better man/worse than nicotine » arthur ketch

five: you're lucky you're a good kisser.

A/N: He's staring into my soul smh

Also, more lyrics from 'Honest':

all of these feelings are saying/that i could never find a better love than you

Ketch pulls into the gravel driveway of what looks like a slightly less run-down version of diners that I can remember eating at with Sam and Dean during hunts. Those were run-down because they were, well, old. But this one looks new. Like it's rustic appearance is on purpose, not the product of being taken care of less than it should.

            Once inside, Ketch and I take a booth by the window. We sit across from each other, which normally is okay, but as the seconds have passed, it is harder and harder for me to quit staring at him like he's some stranger.

            I can't help it.

            The waitress snaps me out of it, asking what we'd like. I allow Ketch to order, saying we'll have two cups of hot tea to start. She gives us a weird look – most people probably order coffee, which I could actually go for, but I promised him I would have tea with him – before going off to fill the order.

            Instead of staring at Ketch like I'm crazy, I opt for staring around the diner, thinking that looks more acceptable.

            And it does. He just feels the need to spark conversation.

            "You really don't leave that bunker much, do you?"

            I shake my head, my eyes falling down to meet his. "Nope. I uh—I remember, before I died, coming to diners like these." I look back around, a small smile settling over my lips. "I forgot how much I love these places."

            I can feel him looking at me, his eyes studying my expression. I'm preparing myself for a comment about what a shame it is that I never leave that bunker, that I never go outside. But one never comes. I instead let my eyes finally meet his after a few moments of feeling his stare, a light blush settling over my cheeks.

            "I wouldn't mind doing...this – more often."

            I raise my eyebrows, teasing, "Don't you have a job?"

            "I do, yes, but it is not a job that currently requires my attention every single day."

            I smirk. "I can tell." I think if he was supposed to be more closely involved with his job, he wouldn't be spending nights at the bunker with me or sitting here with me to have tea.

            "All I am saying," he pauses when the waitress comes over with two cups and a small kettle of tea. She sets the kettle down alongside a bowl of sugar and cream before taking our orders. He waits until she is gone to continue. "All I am saying, is I would not mind taking you outside those concrete walls more often."

            I hum, watching as he pours tea in both of our cups.

"It would have to be when Sam and Dean are hunting," I blurt, watching as he stops halfway from putting sugar in his tea to listen to me. "I don't think they'd want to know about this, but..." I trail away, my earlier argument coming to mind. I have to believe in it. "But I'm an adult. And if they don't like that, it's their problem."

It feels foreign to hear those words actually coming out of my mouth. I have thought them many times. Many times, before I met Ketch. When I wanted to leave in the night and go stay in a new town for a couple days. Obviously, I never went through with the plan, but the argument has been stored in my mind for months. I never thought I would hear it out loud.