Born of Chaos and Grace

Chapter Eight: Affliction - Part II

Dean's gaze keeps flitting back to her during the majority of the drive back to the motel, and the moment she becomes free from his ever-present stare is when she excuses herself to go shower. She is wholly surprised when Dean heads down to the convenience store down the street to pick up some snacks and a case of beer, but she doesn't protest when he leaves.

By the time she is out of the shower and has changed into a pair of comfy sweats and a loose tank top, Dean is back. He has taken residence up on his bed with his eyes closed, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his stomach.

As she makes her way towards the bed she claimed, she runs a comb through her hair in an attempt to disentangle the fiery mass of wetness atop her head. Dropping onto the too soft mattress, she watches Dean's still as stone form on the other bed, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he is still awake.

Tossing the comb back into her bag on the floor, she crawls off the bed and walks into the kitchenette. Opening the small refrigerator, she grabs a nearly cold beer bottle from inside before making her way back over to the beds, this time situating herself on Dean's.

After popping the cap off on the nightstand, she takes a long swig and then offers the bottle to Dean, twisting in her spot to face him.

His right eye peaks open and his gaze flicks between her and the beer before he places his hand around the body of the bottle, guiding it to his mouth to take an even longer drink. He closes his eye again and she shifts to place the bottle on the nightstand.

Rolling onto her back, she leans her head against the wall and stares ahead, the two of them falling into companionable silence. She begins tugging at a loose piece of fabric on the duvet, twisting the thread between her fingers, when Dean's hand slides off his stomach and lands on the blanket next to hers. She spares a quick glance at Dean, his eyes still closed and face peaceful, before looking back down to their hands mere inches apart.

The touch is sudden and tentative, but when she doesn't protest or move away, Dean's hand slips against hers and their fingers intertwine. She can't fight the small smile that grows on her face as his hand settles against hers, a warm and familiar presence.

"I missed this," she mumbles, the words slipping out before she can stop them, as she traces the back of his hand with her thumb. "I missed you."

"You're not the only one," he replies after a few beats of silence and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. "You sure you're okay? After what happened earlier –"

She cuts him off with a sigh. "Dean, I'm fine. Nothing happened and nothing would've happened."

His eyes shoot open and his hand tightens around hers, his gaze refusing to meet hers, instead directed straight ahead. "You don't know that."

"But I do. Nothing would have happened, even if you hadn't of shown up when you did." He opens his mouth again and she can sense an argument brewing, but instead of letting him reply, she nestles down on the bed and against his side. It earns her the result she was hoping for – silence. "Let's not talk about that, okay?"

A deep breath leaves Dean's lips and his eyes fall shut again, but he doesn't press the topic any further. She is thankful when he switches topics a few moments later, but it's not a subject she expects him to bring up.

"At the school today..."

"Yeah?" she prods, twisting more onto her side so she can view his face. Both of his eyes are open now, mossy green meeting gunmetal blue.

"I keep remembering senior year." Nodding, she follows Dean's movements with her eyes, watching as he releases her hand and instead begins to trail his fingers gentle over her palm and wrist. "You remember the party?"