Words by You

New Ground is Hard to Tread On

"It's nice to see you're warming up to each other again."

"What do you mean?"

"The banter, the longing looks," she listed, her eyes narrowing.

Thank goodness neither of them were in earshot. "What longing? He was barely a foot away."

"And yet there was the whole him-looking-when-you-weren't, then you-looking-when-he-wasn't."

I scoffed at her words. I wasn't looking (often), but I could feel that he was. When I spoke, when I laughed, even when I was just listening. And somehow the knowledge made it harder to look back.

"That doesn't make it a thing," I said curtly.

Her lips curled into a slow smirk. "Sure it doesn't." She slapped her hands on the couch cushions and heaved herself up. "I mean what do I know, I'm just the neutral third party."

I bit down the urge to point out she didn't sound so neutral, letting her escape into the kitchen. Her words were more to tease than anything else, but a self-conscious wave still bubbled under my skin.

I forced it down when Dean returned, alone, wiping his hands on his jeans. My gaze unconsciously travelled over him as he approached, taking stock. Broad, sloping shoulders. Sun-kissed freckled cheeks. Forest pine eyes. All the little things that'd gotten familiar with time, and yet I couldn't help staring anyway.

He opted for the couch this time, sitting next to me. Close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from him, but nothing more. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, the food helped." So did the ice pack keeping my spine numb. "What about you? You haven't given those sutures a break today." I pointed out.

He brushed it off with a shrug. "I'm fine. I barely feel anything."

"Barely isn't nothing." I gave him a scrutinizing look. "It means you are feeling something."

"That would be the bottomless depth of your concern," he drawled, all charm. He just couldn't help redirecting the concern from himself. Like he had to tough it out on his own.

"You're ridiculously stubborn."

"That's a better way to describe you."

I bit the side of my tongue. "Do you always have to disagree with what I say?"

"Kinda. It's fun to fight with you."

"You're a glutton for punishment, Winchester."

He dipped his head, those long lashes curtaining his eyes in shadow. "If you're handing it out, I'm first in line, sweetheart."

My stupid insides did a little flip. I couldn't even think of a retort. "Shut up."

But I was smiling. He was too, and it triggered that feeling again. Warm and giddy and sweet like soft serve under a hot sun, melting my insides freely now that I knew there was no catch. His big bad secret had been blown wide open, and none of the bad was actually from him. It was like that gaping chasm between us was getting smaller, the distance gradually vanishing the more time I spent around him. And I was getting more and more swallowed up in the idea of what it would feel like to have it be gone entirely.

~~~

When it got late, Sunnie drove herself home. Her apartment was finally stalker-free and she insisted she was ready to head back and strive for some sense of normalcy. Sam went out too, taking the Impala to run an errand.

The house was left much quieter with just me and Dean. He acted right at home, rolling up his sleeves to tackle the leftover dishes. He didn't have a problem rebuffing my help, or supporting my snail-paced stride up the staircase.