Cupid ((supernatural/ Dean Winchester))

Chappie Nine: High Tensions

We piled into the small black Chevy Impala, Sam and Dean in the front seat, me and the angle sittingas far as possible from eachother in the back. If I was to describe the meaning of awkward this would be it.

I was sitting directly behind Dean so I started staring intently at the back of his neck counting the tiny freckles.

Everytime he felt my gaze he would turn around and I would look away innocently. Then restart the process over again because I kept losing count. At some point I realized that we had stopped at some cafe place and everyone was starting to look at me abd I blushed a bright shade of pink that probably was close to the shade of my hair.

For a second I thought I saw Dean smirk and blush, like he was the embarrassed one, but he turned away and got out of the car. Shockingly, he pulled the seat forward to let me out.

I muttered my thanks as I crawled out past him. In the corner of my eye I saw Sam and Castiel were already out of the car and heading towards the front door of the small building. Dean and I made eye contact for half a moment and something turned weirdly in my chest but it stopped the second he looked away.

Silently cursing myself to hell for letting him get to me, and cursing him out even worse for making me feel like this, I stalked after him practically shaking with anger.

The cafe was empty beside for a group of the pretty girls gossiping in the corner booth. I could see Dean checking them out, and see the girls all puffing out their over exposed cleavage at him. An emotion stronger than anger, so strong that I couldn't find the words to describe the feeling,  the feeling was sticking on my body,  like a second skin. It felt sticky and thick, almost as if I needed to take a shower to wash it off of me.

I guess the other girls could sense my discomfort with their obvious flirting because they shot evil glares at me, and continued to lure the stupid green eyed devil into their lustful trap.

Turning up my nose I stepped around the entrapped man, without even diverting a fraction of his attention,  and taking place at the booth beside Sam,  leaving the only other spot next to Castiel for whenever he decided to snap out of it.

A friendly looking waiter came by and took our drink orders, leaving only three menus in the table. Good thing too, it looks like Dean is going to sit with the girls across the room.

A hot, burning, and completely unwelcome, flash of jealously shocked me out of my thoughts. I had absolutely no reason to be jealous, I wasn't dating Dean, I didn't even likehim, not in that way. He could be a friend if he was so- so, so idiotic. Idiotic and stupid and handsome. Handsome?

Where did that come from? Cute, maybe. Total doushe bag, yes. But handsome? I've never thought of anyone, especially someone who had nearly killed me, handsome and never been jealous.

But I was. Deep down inside of myself I was jealous and didn't want him to flirt or sit with any of the other girls now, or in the future. I have a major crush on Dean Winchester, and I could not do a thing to stop it.

The clank of my Mountain Dew glass being sat down on the coaster on the table directly infront of me diverted my attention away from the group. I t was probably a good thing too, the girl with the obviously dyed red hair was groping Dean under the table and if I had to watch that for another moment certian personal rules would be broken. 

I stuck the straw in my mouth, focusing on that for a minute I didn't notice that the waiter was looking at me with a large smile, waiting patiently. Pulling back, I wiped my mouth from the dripping liquid and picked up the menu, ordering the first thing that I saw.

"I'll have the- uhm, cheesy double bacon burger with a side of onion rings and maybe a refill on my soda?" The sentence ended in more like a question, he nodded and smiled. I smiled back and handed him my menu, he tucked the menus under his arm and grabbed my glass before walking away.

I tucked my knees between my chest and the table, resting my arms on them I hid my  head in the gap focusing on anything but the way his eyes glow when he is angry, and how his freckles grow darker in the sunlight.

I don't know how long I was sitting like that but at some point I must have fallen asleep because I woke up in a new hotel room my head resting on someone's chest.  My neck was sore, probably from sleeping sitting upright in the cafe, for who knows how long. Carefully not moving too fast I looked up to see who I was using as a pillow.

Unsurprisingly it was Dean. This time I didn't fight to get free, this time I embraced the feeling of his arm around me. So, this was the feeling I so often spread around to others but never truly felt myself, and I was terrified of it.

I don't even remember when I began to feel like this, was it in my dream world, or that first night at the motel? Or some other time and place? How did I not notice? And my largest question, how would I get over it?

No light was coming through the window so it had to be night still, I couldn't read the analog clock on the wall in the limited light. A thin streak of moonlight illuminated his face in the dark, making it easy for me to examine his face better.

His forehead was scrunched, in the little space between his eyebrows, as if he was upset or having a nightmare.  His lips were trembling, not in a scared way, as if he were talking to someone. I couldn't make out anything he was mouthing. He looked pale, paler than he should be even with the moons light draining the color out of him. It was making me nervous, but not to the point that I would wake him up over it.

He gasped and pulled me closer, I worried that he had woke for a second and thought I was escaping, because I had moved into a higher position to get a better look. No, his eyes were still firmly shut.

My heart was beating so loudly I thought he would hear it, in all my hundreds of  years being alive, I have never been this close to a man. Besides for the other night when he groped me, but I didn't count that, I wasn't even awake for the majority of the time.  I gulped down a big breath of air in attempt to slow the beating down, my skin was flushed with the speed of my heart.

Then the girls from the cafe snaked their way into my head and my heart practically shriveled up into nothing. I couldn't find air to breath, or feel anything other than pain. The read heads hand trailing down him chest- PANG! Her chest against his arm- PANG! Her hand touching his crouch- PANG! I recoiled from his body, rolling out if his grasp, crawling to the foot of the bed and folding myself into a ball of pain.

Why did it hurt so bad?

I felt at if I was being burned with the flames of hell from the inside of my chest out. It hurt worse that being stabbed and burned and tortured by him times one hundred. How could something so beautiful cause so much pain?

Rocking back and forth in place I was using the feeble strength of my tired, numb arms to try to hold myself together, to keep from bursting into a million pieces and never be put back together right again.

And then I fell apart.