No Strings Attached

Day 267

I bet you pimped yourself out to the first person you saw.

What did he do? Treat you like the whore you are?

Who else are you sleeping with?

I should have left you in Mystic Falls to rot!

And you call me a monster.

            Elena quickly shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. Instantly feeling bad, Dean wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs, shushing her and kissing her forehead until she calms down.

            "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Please don't cry. If you cry then I'm gonna cry and I'm a really gross crier," Dean tells her, attempting to make her laugh. "I mean like Brad Pitt meets Tom Cruise gross."

            "Brad isn't a gross crier," Elena defends, a slight chuckle breaking up her sobs. "He just gets all scrunched up."

            "Exactly. Gross," Dean says, sticking out his tongue and making a face. Now Elena does laugh, even if it is a short one. Wiping at her eyes, she takes a deep breath before looking back down at Dean. "I'm gonna get a washcloth and clean up your face, okay?"

            Elena nods and Dean stands, walking to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. He watches Elena in the mirror as he runs the water, studying her. The best description he can come up with is a shell. She's sitting there, but it's not really her. Dena stifles the anger that boils up inside him, shutting off the water and heading back into the room.

            "Come here," he whispers, running the wet washcloth over her cheek. She flinches at first, but eventually she lets him clean her face. Dean is unbelievably gentle, treating her like a porcelain doll as he removes the mascara from under her eye. Once he's done, he offers her a soft smile. "Do you want to shower? I know you don't have any clean clothes, but you can borrow my shirt if you'd like."

            Nodding, Elena stands up and turns around. Taking the hint, Dean's fingers grasp the zipper and give it a gentle tug. It unzips easily, opening up to reveal Elena's supple skin. His fingers gently trace her shoulder blades, feeling for any bruise or cut Damon might have left behind. When Elena shivers, Dean pulls back, clearing his throat before pointing toward the bathroom. Elena offers him one last smile before stepping into the small room and closing the door.

            The tile is cold beneath Elena's feet as she sheds herself of her clothes, turning on the shower to its maximum heat. Her whole body feels like ice, though the temperature outside is plenty warm. Sighing when her cold skin finally hits the steamy water, Elena slowly begins to wash herself clean of the previous night.

            "Hey Lena? I'm gonna go get us some coffee. I'll be right back okay?" Dean leans his ear against the door, waiting to hear her response. When she doesn't respond, Dean sighs and heads for the door, leaving his red button up shirt for her to wear.

            When he returns with the steaming cups of black liquid, Elena is sitting rigidly on the edge of the bed. She buttoned the shirt wrong, one side higher up than the other. Her hair is dripping wet, darkening the shade of the shirt and pooling on the bed around her. She's staring at the floor, not even bothering to look up when Dean puts the cup of coffee in her hands.

            "Are you tired? Did you sleep at all last night?" Dean sits down beside her, taking her free hand in his. Elena shakes her head, slowly lifting the liquid to her lips and taking a sip. "What can I do to help?"

            "I don't know," Elena mumbles, chancing a glance in Dean's direction. "I just... We made such a mess, Dean."

            "I know," Dean agrees, squeezing her fingers.