Hunted

Drinks impair judgement, kids

Two hours later, we return to the motel, both about one hundred dollars richer. "Well, I'd say tonight was a success," Dean says. Although he had six good sized beers, he doesn't seem fazed by it. I, on the other hand, am tipsy from the four I had. It didn't help that Dean encouraged me to do shots. I'm not a heavy drinker, so even one beer is a lot for me. 

"Yeah. Well I'm gonna take a shower," I say as I stride over to the bathroom. I'm a naturally clumsy person, so when I'm drunk, I'm a total disaster. I trip over my own feet and fall, right into Dean's muscular arms. 

"Whoa there. You're not used to drinking, are you?" He asks looking down at me in his grasp. I shake my head from side to side and smile, which makes him laugh. I like the feeling of his chest against me, and without knowing what I am doing, I kind of rest my head on his shoulders. He doesn't do anything to stop me, so we stand there for a while, me encircled by his warm embrace. It feels really nice, but of course my gut has to ruin it, by telling me that it's 'wrong' and there's no way I could fall for Dean Winchester. Regrettably, I back away and stomp to the shower, plastic bag in hand. I use the toilet and find that my period has stopped. Thank goodness.

I clean off and get out, but putting on my dirty clothes kind of ruins the freshness I felt. Since I have more money now, I need to go and buy another pair of jeans and a shirt, plus some pajamas. For tonight, though, I guess this will suffice. I try to de-fog the mirror but am not succesful, so I step out of the bathroom and see that Dean is nowhere to be found. There's a note and a red plaid shirt on the small table by our bed that reads:

C,

Went out to get some beer and other crap. Use the shirt as pajamas or something. No offense, but you need to wash your clothes. I'll be back in a sec.

Dean

That idiot. He's drunk! What if Meg or another demon decides to come after him? He wouldn't be able to defeat them! On top of that, it's the middle of the night! No one will be around to call the cops! I run over to my phone and call him, but I hear a vibration from his duffel. Dammit, Dean. As I anxiously wait for him to get back, I accept the shirt and replace my stinky clothes with it. There's a small washer at the end of the hallway that I saw, so I insert a couple coins into it and throw my stuff in there, along with some shirts Dean had that were crumpled and at the top of his bag. I return to our dimly lit room and sit on our bed, trying to watch TV, but my mind keeps flicking to Dean. I have almost driven myself crazy when he comes back, a six pack of beer in one hand, a bag of tortilla chips in the other. He gives me a crooked smile but I am furious. His grin disappears as soon as he sees my face.

"What the hell Dean!" I yell. He was clearly not expecting this. "I didn't know where you were and you left your phone and a demon could've gotten you and your brother is already missing and-" At this point I'm starting to tear up."I thought you were kidnapped too and it's the middle of the night and you took the car so I didn't know what to do and-"

"Ella, El, it's okay. I'm here now. You didn't have to worry about me." He walks over to me, where I am sobbing, and even though he knows my reaction is mostly due to the alcohol I've had, he scoops me into his arms and sits down on the bed, leaning against the wall the bed is pushed up against. He rest his cheek on the top of my head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that. It was stupid of me."

I look up at him through the tears with a small smile. "It was very stupid. Don't do that again. Promise?" He grips me tighter. "Promise. By the way, I like the shirt on you."

 I snort. "It's like a dress. Thanks though, my clothes are super stinky. In fact, they're probably done washing right now." I scramble out of his arms, even though I want to stay there for a while, maybe even forever (snap out of it, Eleanor) and walk outside, where the brisk night air makes me shiver. I realize I must look ridiculous: a girl wearing nothing but underwear and a man's shirt, with red eyes from crying. I guess Dean thinks so to, because seconds later, he also steps out of our hotel to make sure no one else is outside. I love how protective he gets around some things. I tug at the washing machine door till it opens and pull out all of the wet clothes. Dean opens the dryer for me and I stuff them all in, hitting a few buttons and closing it again.

"I washed a couple of your things as well. I thought they might need it." He nods. "Thanks. I'll come and take these out in fifteen minutes, when they finish drying. You need to get to sleep. You're an emotional drunk, you know that?."

 Although I know I am, I say, "I'm not drunk. I could drive a car." As if to prove my point, I start to walk towards the Impala, but Dean grabs my shoulders and steers me back towards our room. "Oh no. You will not lay a finger on Baby tonight." I surrender and let him lead me back inside. "I'm not tired though," I whine. Contradicting me, a small yawn escapes my mouth. Dean laughs. "Really now?" I frown and shake my head. "I am hungry though. Let's crack open those chips and have a beer."

"I will let you eat some of those chips, but you've had enough alcohol tonight. Four beers and some shots would make anyone that tiny drunk, but a non-drinker? You are drunk enough, and believe me, you'll thank me in the morning." I continue to pout, but Dean is steadfast. "Fine then, you turd," I say, scowling. This makes Dean crack up. "Wow, 'turd'. I'm offended." Glaring at him, I say, "You should be."

We sit down and turn on the TV while eating the chips. Right now, Gossip Girl is on and since I have the remote, it stays on. I kind of like this show. Dean doesn't argue. After about fifteen minutes, he goes to get the laundry, and when he returns, I help him fold some of it. He chuckles like a thirteen year old boy when he gets to my bra, a black lacy one. I snatch it from him and continue on folding. When we finish, he insists on me going to bed.

"I just wanna finish this episode," I argue. "No," he says, stern. "Whatever, Mom." He laughs and says, "Goodnight. I'm actually pretty tired myself, I think I'll sleep too." He strips down to his boxers, and I can't help staring. I look away before he catches me. We both get under the covers and turn off the lights, keeping a respectful distance from each other. For some reason, I am happier than I've been in a long time, and I drift off to sleep immediately.