Always On My Mind

Are You Lonesome Tonight

April 2015

The sun shone through the window and tickled Dean Winchester's toes, which peered out from under the duvet. His breath was shallow and slow.
He didn't allow the wind, which made the long white curtains dance through the opened window interrupt his sleep.
The bed under his body was soft and warm, but even in his sleep, he noticed that something - or someone - was missing. He stretched out his hand and brushed it over the mattress only to be disappointed; the place beside him was empty.
He sighed and rolled, still half asleep, to the other side of the mattress. The familiar smell, belonging to another, that clung to the pillow filled his nostrils; Dean let it consume him. It smelled bitter yet sweet and earthy with the faint, but unmistakable smell of marker pen ink. Dean breathed deeply and smiled, before letting himself fall back into a deep and well deserved sleep after two weeks of late nights and rough days at work.

-

When cold fingers slipped lightly around his waist, he opened his eyes and muttered something that sounded like "five more minutes". Lips began to roam over the sensitive skin on his neck, making him shudder. Dean, somewhat satisfied, sighed and reached out to touch the arms he could feel next to him.

"I think you're lying on my side", the breath on his neck made Dean's skin tingle with anticipation.

He grinned, knowing the man beside him had seen. "Mmmh ... Are you going to punish me now?" The hope of dirty morning sex, where Dean could lie back and not have to do all the work, allow himself to be truly taken, seemed to be just out of reach. 

"Dean... ", James laughed, rolling on his back, his head now on Dean's pillow. "I need to get to work."

Dean finally opened his eyes and blinked lazily against the light. When he adjusted himself to the brightness, a sea of blue was the first thing he saw. So serene and full of hope. He smiled, but the expression wasn't returned. Instead, James turned his head and stared up at the ceiling. His jaw rippled beneath the surface as he ground his teeth in thought. 

"What's wrong, Jimmy?" Dean's asked hesitantly.

Jimmy simply shook his head and closed his eyes. If there was something Dean Winchester loved most in all the world it was the side profile of James (and just about anything else concerning James). The defined jaw line and perfectly angled nose being his particular favourites.
James' hair was beautifully un-styled; some strands hung loosely in his face, others stood up in clumps while most remained flat to the top of his head.
He had folded his hands over his chest, which was hidden beneath a light blue shirt and freshly ironed matching sweater. His legs, covered by light-brown slacks that hung just a little too deep below his hip, were folded upon the bed.
Dean grinned, again, as he saw the socks that James was wearing; they were a gift last year from Dean's father, John Winchester.
John hadn't known what he should give the fiancée of his son (his wife, Mary, had been of very little use; simply encouraging her husband to 'be creative'). So he had settled on a pair of green socks covered with a Christmas present motif.

"It is April", Dean said, pointing to the socks.

He opened his eyes to glance down at his feet before shrugging his shoulders and closing his eyes once more. People, who didn't know James the way Dean did, probably thought that he was relaxed and maybe still a little tired, trying to fit in some last minute rest before work. But Dean knew better. Something was troubling him. Dean could see it in the wringing of his hands, in his pained expression and the way he was breathing - quiet and irregular.

"Jimmy, talk to me", Dean pleaded and propped himself up on his elbow, attempting to get a closer look at his fiancé.

James Novak opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's nothing, nothing important anyway. I have to go soon. Is there anything else you want to do in the next five minutes?" He lowered his voice several octaves and grinned at Dean. But the tension was still there, written all over his face, despite his desperate efforts to underplay his emotions.