Small Cuts (Supernatural Dark!fic)

t w e n t y - t w o

"It's probably somethin' that shouldn't be said out loud
Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now"
Bury A Friend - Billie Eilish 

The steady rhythm of Amara's breath filled the training room as she pushed herself harder, each movement sharp and precise, her body dripping with sweat from the intensity of her workout. She had been at it for over an hour now, the weight of everything that had happened driving her to train relentlessly, to push herself past the limits she thought she had.

Dressed in just a pair of tight-fitting black sports shorts and a sports bra, her usual flowing white dress discarded in the corner, Amara moved with a determination that burned hot inside her. Every punch, every kick, was more controlled, more powerful than before. She could feel herself getting stronger, faster, her muscles burning as she forced herself to keep going.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of sweat and effort, but Amara didn't care. She was too focused on the rhythm of her movements, the way her body responded to the commands her mind gave it. She wasn't going to let herself be weak anymore. She wasn't going to be left behind.

Just as she spun into a powerful kick, the door to the training room creaked open behind her. Amara didn't stop, didn't break her rhythm, but she was aware of the presence that had entered the room—aware of the way their gaze seemed to linger on her, taking in every movement, every drop of sweat that slid down her bare skin.

She finished her set, breathing heavily, and turned to find Dean standing near the door, his green eyes wide with surprise but gleaming with something that looked like... admiration.

"Damn," Dean muttered, stepping further into the room, his gaze never leaving her as he approached. "You've been working hard."

Amara swallowed, her chest still heaving from the exertion, but she felt a flicker of satisfaction at the impressed look in Dean's eyes. "Yeah," she said, her voice breathy but steady. "I've been training."

Dean raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I can see that," he said, his voice low and rough as his eyes flicked over her. "You wanna partner up? Show me what you've been working on?"

Amara's heart skipped a beat at the challenge in his tone, and despite the exhaustion settling in her muscles, she nodded, eager to show him just how far she had come. "Yeah," she said, straightening up and wiping the sweat from her brow. "Let's go."

Dean grinned, stepping into position as Amara squared off with him. He moved first, his strikes quick and deliberate, but this time, Amara was ready. She dodged and weaved, her body moving with a precision that surprised even herself. Dean's attacks came fast, but she was faster, her instincts sharper than ever.

She blocked a punch, spinning around him, and before he could react, she hooked her leg behind his and swept him off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground with a grunt. Amara moved quickly, pinning him to the mat, her hands pressing down on his chest as she straddled him, her breath coming in heavy bursts.

For a moment, the room seemed to still. Dean lay beneath her, his green eyes wide with surprise but gleaming with something darker, something that made Amara's pulse quicken. She could feel the heat of his body beneath her, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he looked up at her, the tension between them thick and electric.

"Not bad," Dean murmured, his voice low and rough, his eyes flicking down to her lips for a brief second before snapping back up to meet hers. "You've definitely improved."

Amara's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as the intensity of the moment settled over them. The heat between them was undeniable, and for a second, she thought about leaning in, about closing the distance between them and—