𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡

Ch.17 - The Troublesome Caller

~A/N~ Another pic of the oh-so-scrumptious Dean!

I leaned back against the closed front door and sunk down to the floor.

"Ugh, thank you Faye..." I muttered sourly to myself, releasing the huff of air I had been holding in. I now have numerous unwelcome thoughts swarming throughout my head. Every last one concerning a certain blue eyed demon with a sharp tongue and a bad habit of breaking the law like its his own personal toothpick.

Can Dean really teach me how to hold my own ground against Jack? Most likely.

Am I insane? Also very likely.

Is he safe to be around? Heck no.

Then why does cool calm and collected Patience disappear when he's near, and get replaced with a hot and bothered one? It's best I not even answer that.

Am I making a bad situation worse? Again, most likely.

But, do I have any other options?

Dear sweet Faye, thank you for bringing all these wonderful thoughts to light by simply mentioning Dean Sawyer. I'll have to be sure to repay you in full someday soon.

I scrambled back to my feet.

Its about seven o'clock, so I have plenty of time to relax before Jack the Ripper gets home. He always stays out extra late on weekends. He eventually gets home around one in the morning, smelling like he fell head first in into a pool full of whiskey. A while back I actually got curious as to where he was spending all that time. As a matter of fact, I still am. My best guess is that he and his band of merry brutes are out wasting their lives away in some shady bar. Because that's just Jack. Shady job, shady friends, shady bars.

If the portion about the bars is true, then I wish alcohol poisoning would kick in someday. Then all the problems would be gone.

Just like that, the dark thought I'd been pushing back for so long escaped. My senses jolted with awareness and my eyes widen to the size of golf balls. Did I just wish death on a person?! Do I still wish it? My wayward conscience claims no. Meanwhile every scrape, scar and bruise on me screams otherwise.I bite my lip, desperately trying to hold on to the paper thin resolve, and ferociously shake all thoughts from my head.

I'm not a killer. I should know better than to think such things.

I jet up the steps and into my room. Once inside, layers of clothing begin to peel off and I head to my drawers to grab a set of pajamas. After pulling on a pair of black sweatpants, the large wicker basket of folded shirts at the top of my closet is next on my agenda.I reached up to grab it but only managed to touch a few inches higher than the bottom of the troublesome basket. Why did I put that all the way up there anyway? I balance myself on the tip of my toes and continue the struggle of reaching the basket. What are the odds that I'm going to reach this thing? I'm a girl standing five foot-six inches at best, going up against a seven foot closet. Remind me again, how I even got it up there to begin with?!

I extend my left arm as high as humanly possible and still....nothing.

"Come...on!" I groan in frustration. I was afraid I was going to have to do this. Swallowing my pride, I begin jumping up for the basket. My face lights up when I finally snag the top of the basket after the third jump. My happiness is short lived though, because literally the multi-second I grab the stupid basket, my phone rings full blast on my dresser across the room. The unexpected sound practically has me flying out of my skin and my startled relaxes pull the clothes basket out too fast.

Like Humpty Dumpty himself, the basket and its mass of clothes inside, along with a highly disgruntled Patience Phillips, go crashing to the floor. My head and back make a concrete thud as they collide with the ground and a gush of wind is knocked out of me. If "I hate the world" was a single word in the dictionary, guess who's face would be the picture next to the definition right now.

I push the basket off my stomach, then toss various T-shirts, tank tops, and tunics away also. After clearing my way, I roll off my back and onto my hands and knees. My phone continues its annoying ringing and vibrating on the dresser; completely unaware of my troubles at opposite side of the room. I jump back to my feet and scurry over to the still hollering cellphone.

"What?!" I practically snarl into it once it's fully in my hands. Whoops. Regret sets in only after the words leave my mouth. I didn't even check who it was! Some poor innocent caller is probably traumatized because I took my annoyance out on them and-

"Well that's attractive..." Dean's sarcastic voice interrupts my thoughts. Never mind...

"Oh, hey Dean." I greet dully.

"Sounds like someones having a bad day."

"And you care?" The question in my voice is evident. I can almost hear the cocky smirk that comes next.

"No, not really. I just thought that that was how normal people start a conversation." I told you I could hear the smirk. I resist the urge to lay my finger over the close call button. "Are you busy right now? And don't lie this is important." He asks, turning mildly serious again. I blow some hair out of my face and glance over at the holy mess surrounding my closet. The sight recalls the whole embarrassing fall I had just seconds ago.

"Making scrambled eggs." I say, then smile at my corny remark. It's not exactly a lie, now is it? After all, I did just reenact Humpty Dumpty. All that's left is for some helpful king's horses and men to come pick up all these godforsaken clothes. Although I don't think I'll be putting that basket at the top of the closet anymore.

"Sure princess. Scrambling eggs counts as important..." Dean mutters at the other end. "I need to know if you're free today. I'm busy till Friday, so if you were hoping to train at all this week it's gotta get done now."

My eyebrows furrowed at his words. What could possibly have him busy all week? Is he going to be....fighting?

"Yes, as a matter of fact. He is going to be fighting." Dean states knowingly, sounding as if he's evaluating my sanity. My eyes widen at the realization that I actually voiced my thoughts out loud. "Please tell me that's not going to be a habit."

I decide to skip this whole part of the conversation and pretend as if the past five seconds of our lives were totally nonexistent.

"Um....yeah so, what time did you want to meet?" I say, chuckling nervously. For a good ten seconds there is straight silence on the other end.

"Well I did say now, meaning, I'll see you at the gym in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes!" I scoff. He can't be serious!

"Safe driving Phillips!" Dean retorts happily and hangs up.

I hate him...I really genuinely hate this guy.

~A/N~

Well hello again kind peoples! It' s obvious that I've been off the grid for a WHILE. What can I say, summer vacation has been busy :) But now I'm back and ready to update! Looking forward to the next one. I won't be as boring as this one was.

Patience is in for a shock....(*que dramatic ,music*)

Until then, see you next chapter!