Hellhound (Supernatural #1)

19: In the Right Direction

Progress, noun.

1. A movement toward a goal or to a further or higher stage.
2. Advancement in general.

***

When I woke up, my first thought was about the taste in my mouth. When was the last time I had brushed my teeth? The next thought was whether getting up for a painkiller was worth it. Maybe I could get some more sleep; that ought to help with my headache. So I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped for the best. Only sleep didn't come. My mind had rebooted and was telling me it was time to tackle the day. I didn't want to but sleep moved further and further away from me with each passing second.

Finally, I sighed and opened my eyes, admitting defeat.

Then, I noticed I wasn't in my own room. This was turning into a bad habit. I wondered how I had ended up in Tate's room this time. That last time, Dean had kissed me and his hellhound power had been amped up too high, shooting me off into oblivion. What had happened this time? I thought back and only remembered flashing lights and sweet drinks. The scenery of the club came back very slowly. The events of the night came back at greater speed. Tate slipping through a staff-only door. A bouncer approaching. Tate kissing me. Me kissing him back. The bouncer finding us. Throwing up.

Ah yes, was I glad to have those memories back. Not.

I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck I was going to do. Throwing up like that had been embarrassing, but something that hadn't been entirely in my control. Kissing Tate on the other hand, now that was what someone might call a stupid thing to do. Especially after the conversation we had had at the bar. We had fucked up. No doubt things would be awkward again, though this time, I wasn't sure if we could just pretend it hadn't happened.

There was a knock on the door. Then Tate poked his head into the room. "I thought I heard your heart beating faster." I stared wide-eyed; why had my heart been beating faster? Was it because of what I had been thinking about? Tate grinned, coming in. "A heartbeat is much more regular when asleep. I only meant to say that you had woken up. Now that I've seen your reaction, I'm curious; what were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I said too fast, turning my eyes back up to the ceiling. My cheeks got warm. Suddenly, I was warm all over. It was too hot to be under the covers. Pushing the covers back, trying to sit up, the change of temperature made me shiver. Tate was over in a flash, grabbing a blanket from his desk chair and draping it over my shoulders.

"You still had a fever when I checked on you an hour ago. Just stay under the covers."

"Fever?"

"Yeah... long story. How are you feeling? You seem lucid this time," he frowned, putting a hand on my forehead.

"Lucid? What?" He was freaking me out more than reassuring me. His hand did feel wonderfully cool against my face. Without thinking about it, I took hold of it and moved it from my forehead to my left cheek, back up to my forehead again before moving it down to my right cheek. He grinned but didn't seem to mind.

"You woke up a few times since Friday night, but you weren't exactly lucid. You were babbling about that drink you had at the club, wanting more of it. Then you would throw up. The good news is that the drug will have left your system by now."

I blinked a couple of times. "Drug? Tate, what happened?!"

It was Dean who replied, appearing in the door frame. "Let's just say that we found the supernaturals." I blinked a few more times, wondering how that was related to me being sick. Don't get me wrong, it was wonderful that they had found the supernaturals, but it was so confusing.