The next morning, I woke up by myself, with no one dragging me from unconsciousness without my permission. The first thing I did was blink the sleep out of my eyes and look at the clock. Two in the afternoon.
I shifted and felt someone at my side, glancing down quickly and seeing Dean fast asleep right next to me. And I was curved into him. We were cuddling. We had been cuddling while we were sleeping.
I sat up slowly so I didn't wake him up, the night before coming back to me in dizzy memories. The only perfectly clear moment was the kiss, which I never planned on forgetting.
"Have fun last night after I left?" Sam asked, making me jump. I looked across the room, seeing him set up on his bed with his laptop. He was half-smirking.
"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking with sleep. I stood up and caught myself on the edge of the bed, dizzy for a few seconds. "We had a blast."
"You're not too hungover, then. Good." He full out grinned then. "I would have bet money last night, judging from the way you were acting, that you would be running to the bathroom first thing."
I rolled my eyes. "I can handle my alcohol."
"Maybe after the fact," he said pointedly, and I ignored him, looking back down at Dean.
"Did we both sleep here because the cot was gone?" I asked, glancing at Sam. He nodded.
"It wasn't like Dean was gunna sleep on the floor. Next time, though, he'll probably make you sleep on the cot for two days in a row, since you stole his bed when it was your turn on the cot."
"Well the cot wasn't here, was it?" I smiled and glanced down at myself, realizing I was still wearing the dress. I raced to the bathroom, making sure no damage had been done to it while either sleeping or dancing while I was incredibly drunk. When I was sure I was fine, I decided now would probably be a pretty good time to shower, getting everything ready while I made Sam examine the bathroom for spiders. When it was all clear, I started the water, taking off the dress slowly and reexamining myself for any bruises that hadn't formed yesterday.
I didn't look much worse, the bruises a little darker but nothing too horrible. They weren't that sore, either, but my feet sure were. There weren't any blisters, though, which was a very good thing. Maybe I could be the first super fashionable hunter and wear the boots while I killed stuff.
While in the shower, I thought over last night with Dean, especially the ending when I'd professed my drunken love for him and he'd laughed me off. I wasn't hurt; I mean, I had been super drunk. But that didn't mean I'd been lying. I loved him just as much now as I had last night while kissing him, and I didn't want to wait for him to wake up before making sure he knew I'd be serious. Though problems could arise since a relationship could end badly, thus ending our three-sided-partnership in hunting, I wanted him to know where I stood anyway. And if he didn't feel the same, well, I would handle it. We'd gone long enough just being friends, why did that have to change now just because I had a crush on him?
Saying the word crush made me flinch. I would know if I had a crush on him. No, this was something different, and the only way I could say it and understand it was that I loved him. Just thinking it felt right. How had it taken me this long to realize it?
I suddenly wondered if anyone else had realized it, cough cough Sammy. Did he even know Dean and I had kissed last night? Had he suspected that I loved Dean all along? I didn't know how or when I would ask him about it, but I needed to. Maybe in ten years, if Dean and I were married and Sam had some wife that was good enough for him, we could laugh about it together and reminisce.
Yeah, maybe not.
When I got out of the shower and started getting dressed, the thought occurred to me that we probably wouldn't be alive in ten years, if we kept on hunting. Oh well. I figured that if I died, or any of us died, I would want it to be together, the three of us or none of us. I think we'd gone for so long depending on each other that if one of us was gone, we would destroy ourselves trying to bring them back. That was basically the track record for Sam and Dean.
About the time I had on underwear and a shirt, Dean walked right in grinning widely, making himself comfortable and starting to brush his teeth. I rolled my eyes, writing him off and sliding on my jeans like he wasn't there. I brushed my hair next to him, the whole while debating on bringing up the subject now or waiting until later, when we would be completely alone instead of Sammy being fully awake and aware the next room over. When he was finished brushing his teeth, I moved to leave the bathroom, but turned around just as I put my foot over the threshold.
"By the way, Dean," I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "I wasn't kidding."
I turned back around, walking out of the bathroom but stopping short when he grabbed my wrist and pulled me. I spun around and into his chest not of my own free well, though I definitely wasn't uncomfortable there.
Our closeness didn't affect him whatsoever. "What?"
I closed my eyes, fighting a blush. "I said I wasn't kidding. Last night, when you were making fun of me for being super drunk and completely unaware of what I was saying. I wasn't kidding then, and I'm not now."
He looked confused and then concerned, not loosening his grip on my wrist. "Please clarify."
I nodded towards the other room where Sammy waited, pulling my wrist out of his hand slowly. "I'll explain later."
"No, explain now." He looked exasperated, his hand staying extended in the air, like he wanted to grab my arm again.
"I can't. Seriously. Tonight, okay?" I smiled comfortingly, trying to not seem like I was going to drop a huge bombshell that would either make things awesome or awkward. I couldn't figure out what else to do to try and make him feel better, settling for just hugging him. It didn't last long at all, but I let go anyway, smiling again and then walking back into bedroom.
Dean and I didn't mention it again the whole rest of the time we spent getting our things together and loading them into the Impala, and when he offered to check us out, I feared for the worst. What if he didn't want to be around me anymore, because he knew I loved him? What if I'd ruined everything?
He seemed fine while we drove and stopped at a truck stop half an hour after we left, as excited as he ever was about food. I could see he was still thinking in his eyes, though. He hadn't forgotten about it at all, that was for sure.
