Fallen

Chapter Twenty-Six

     After the diner, we head back to the bunker. By the time we're there, Ezekiel has allowed Sam control of his body. Zeke had said that Sam was strong enough to handle it now. It's good to have Sam back, though he's clueless of having ever been in a coma.

     When we arrive at the bunker, I tell Sam that I need some time alone with Dean. He reminds me of how late it is, and says that he needs to get some rest anyway. Before he heads to his room, I pull him into a hug. He wraps one arm around my shoulders and places his other hand on my head.

     "What's this for?" He says.

     "Our talk," I answer. "Thank you."

     He pulls away and looks down at me. "Is that why you need time with Dean?" I purse my lips and nod. He places a light kiss on the top of my head. "Good luck, kiddo. Even though I know you won't need it. You don't have to worry about Dean."

     I give a small smile. "Are you sure?"

     "Positive," he smiles back. He kisses my head again and heads to his room.

     I take a deep breath and walk down the hallway with rooms lining the walls. I turn the first corner and stop at the door marked with the number 11. I lift my fist and gingerly knock on the door.

     "Come in," Dean says on the other side of the door.

     I turn the knob and push the door. Dean stands between his bed and his dresser with pajama pants and a t-shirt laid out on the bed in front of him. He wears only his jeans from today. He doesn't speak, as he knows why I'm here. I close the door behind myself and try my best not to stare at Dean's toned torso as I make my way to sit on the foot of his bed. I sit so that I'm facing the door instead of him.

     There's a long moment of silence before I finally speak. "It was more than two," I say.

     "What?"

     I mentally slap myself, thinking of the thousands of better ways I could've started this. "When I first met you," I start. "I said that there were two guys that I... Ya know... There were more than two. A lot more." My eyes start to become glassy with the last sentence.

     I feel the bed sink a little behind me. "Okay, and?"

     I'm taken aback by his complete unconcern with my words. "What do you mean 'Okay, and'?" I say, turning to face him.

     He sits with one leg bent on the bed and the other hanging beside it. He brings his other leg up. "I have a big number too. It's not a big deal."

     I turn back around. "That's different, you're older than me," I mumble.

     Dean places his hand on my shoulder and turns me to face him again. "I don't care how many people you've slept with, Cel. Really."

     My eyes start to swell. "But it's not just that." Don't get me wrong, I'm relieved that he's not hesitating when he says that he's unbothered by it. I just know that I can't get too happy about it until he knows everything.

     I start the story of my retched past, and Dean just listens. He doesn't interject once. He just sits quietly as I go on. Honestly, he hardly even reacts. The most he does is nods. When I'm finished, silence washes over the room. Eventually, I can't take it anymore.

     "For the love of God, say something!" I say just under a shout.

     Dean takes a deep breath. "There's nothing to say."

     "What does that mean?"

     He chuckles a bit. "It means that there's nothing to say. The past is the past. We've all done messed up things that we wish we could change. But we can't, and that's okay, Cel. You don't do any of that stuff anymore, and that's what matters. I don't care what you used to do in your free time. I just care that you're with me now."

     His words stun me. For a moment, I just stare at him, trying to see some shift in his expression that tells me what he's really thinking. Nothing. There's no shift. His eyes stay locked on mine, and his face stays relaxed and gentle. He doesn't avoid eye contact, his jaw doesn't clench, and his breathing doesn't falter.

     It finally sets in that he's serious. He's not just telling me what I want to hear. He believes every word.

     When I finally realize this, I lean forward and smash my lips against his without a word. He places a hand on the back of my neck, and before long, the kiss is quickly heating up. My hands roam around his bare torso while his grip my waist and pull me closer to him. Eventually, my fingers glide down his chest and stomach and land on his belt. As I start to fiddle with the buckle, Dean grabs my wrists and pulls away from the kiss.

     "We don't have to do this yet, Cel," he says.

     I smile. "I know. I want to." I start to lean back in, but he moves a hand to my shoulder and stops me.

     "I mean it," he insists. "I don't want you to think that I'll leave you if we don't. I don't want you to think that I won't love you if we don't right now. I'm not like those other asshats. I'll never treat you like those guys did."

     Blush creeps onto my cheeks. "Exactly," I say. "That's why I want to."

     I smile again, and this time, he lets me lean back in and reconnect our lips. Our kiss deepens. Our movements pick up their pace. Our hands travel all over each other. Soon, our clothes fall onto the floor.