Selfless // Dean Winchester

7. Shoot Me or Kiss Me?

One Week Later

   "Thank you again for letting me crash here," said Y/N, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

   Bela Talbot leaned against the counter, looking at her friend over the brim of her own cup. "It's no problem. I enjoy the company."

   Bela lived in an apartment in Queens. Y/N had been there a couple of times. She always enjoyed staying with Bela. Back at her hometown, the attire was all flannel, leather, and denim. Anyone who had a classy sense of fashion would be thought of as stuck-up. But here, with Bela, she could dress as stylish as she wanted. On this day particularly, Y/N donned a high-waisted black pencil skirt and a navy blue turtleneck. Her hair was up in a French twist.

   "What are your plans for today?" asked Y/N. She was getting restless.

   "I've got that auction at the Cennifield Manor," announced Bela, setting her cup on the marble counter. "Why don't you come along?"

   "Oh, I dunno about that."

   "Come on. I can introduce you to all of my friends. In this line of work, it's good to be acquainted with powerful figures."

   "That's what I have you for," said Y/N, mimicking Bela's accent.

   Bela rolled her eyes. "Just come. You need to get out more. If you're not going to tell me why you left home, you need to at least do this for me."

____________________________________________________________

   The auction was uneventful and full of rich snobs who Y/N greeted as politely as possible. She met a young man who claimed to be a member of the British Men of Letters. While Y/N had no clue what that was, the man seemed nice and attractive enough- but not enough to take her mind off of Dean Winchester.

   She drove back to Bela's place alone around midnight. Bela had chosen to stay out late and would probably go home with somebody else. If I'm going to spend the night by myself, I'm going to do it right, with a tub of ice cream and some cheesy soap operas, thought Y/N as she unlocked the door with the key Bela had given her.

   She went straight upstairs to her room and shut the door behind her. The place seemed to be empty- she hadn't remembered leaving the lamp on but didn't give it much thought. However, when the floor creaked beneath the foot of someone who definitely wasn't her, she stiffened.

   "You caught up quicker than I thought," Y/N said faintly. She fought to keep all emotion out of her voice. She felt so many different things, fear, guilt, a bit of relief. "Honestly, seven days? Obsessed much?"

   Dean stood in the corner of her room. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw set. His hand, holding a gun pointed at the floor, shook ever so slightly when she spoke.

   Y/N removed her coat and laid it on the bed, pulling a pin from her hair. "So, what? You're just going to stand there? Shoot me or something."

   He slowly raised the gun. Her heart skipped a beat. "You're not going to do it," she said.

   "Give me one good reason I shouldn't."

   "I didn't betray you, Dean. I didn't take John from you. He had already left you."

   "You don't know what you're talking about," said Dean scornfully.

   "You said that over the phone, too," remarked Y/N. "I'm beginning to think you simply don't want to believe what you're hearing. It's the truth." She removed the last pin from her hair and ran her fingers through her curls. She tilted her head to the side. "Make a move, Winchester. I don't have all night."

   He crossed the room until they were only a foot apart. She had to lift her chin to look him in the eyes, tempted to step back, but forcing herself to stand her ground.

   "Are you going to shoot me or kiss me?" she whispered. "Because, I don't know about you, but I've been wishing for a chance to finish what we started at that motel."

   Dean had the most expressive eyes Y/N had ever seen. Even back when he was seventeen, she could tell exactly what he was feeling by holding his gaze. And now, despite his serious expression, she knew he was feeling conflicted about what he had come to complete. And he wasn't looking at her eyes- he was looking at her lips.

   Without warning, he set his gun on the dresser and roughly pushed her against the door, his hands on her hips. A smile spread across Y/N's face, and then he was kissing her hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck as though she could pull him any closer. It didn't matter that he'd wanted to kill her and still might want to, it didn't matter what would happen in the future- all she cared about was this moment with Dean.

   He tended to have that effect on her.

   Without breaking the kiss, he moved his hands from her hips to her waist, underneath her shirt. The feeling of his hands on her skin sent shivers throughout Y/N's entire body. Dean began to trail kisses from the corner of her mouth to her jaw, and she lifted her chin to give him access to her neck. She let out a sigh as his lips collided with her skin.

   What she had done at the motel had been the right choice. Secrets and intimate relationships didn't mix well. But this time, even though there was distrust and possibly hatred on his side, it made everything more scandalous, exciting.

   And this time, she didn't push him away.