Dallas // [dean winchester] DISCONTINUED

12 - "I've been waiting all night to do that, baby."

April 2004

"Dallas Winters, Masters in Social-Cognitive Theory." My name is called and I walk across the stage to get my masters degree from Columbia University. There was a crowd of screams, my family, John and Dean, my floor from my first year of being an RA, who I've stayed in touch with and become good friends with the majority of the girls, my colleagues from where I was working as a psychologist in training at a clinic, and a whole bunch of my dad's hunting buddies.

"Fuck yeah, Dal!" I hear Dean scream, along with the airhorn that I know Ricki brought. A big blush comes across my cheeks as I walk down the stairs.

"Who's the cutie cheering for you?" My good friend, Annie White, asks, looking at Dean and Ricki.

"The one in the leather or the one in the flannel?" I ask, looking back at Ricki and Dean as they finally calm down.

"The flannel."

"That would be my brother." I say, and her eyes widen.

"Oh, I didn't know, I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

"No, I think you should go for it. He's got a house on Long Island. No big job but he works at a little car shop on the weekends."

"I was thinking fuck and run, but thanks for the rundown."

"No, that makes sense. He'd like that more." I laugh. "I'll put in a word about you."

And then the commencement service was over and I officially had my degree and could begin my career as a practicing psychologist.

"I'm so proud of you." Ricki hugs me, and then my dad, and then Heath.

"Thanks." I smile, and hug my dad again.

"A psychologist." John nods. "Now you can tell us what the fuck is going on in each of our heads."

"Exactly." I laugh and hug him.

"I'm proud of you, Dal." Dean hugs me.

"Thanks, Dean." I smile, and hug him, inhaling his familiar scent and telling myself not to cry.

"At least now I've got my own personal psychologist, to tell all my fucked up shit to."

"Hey, I'm not cheap. And I don't take credit cards." I wink and Dean smiles and hugs me again.

"I've missed you, Dal." He whispers.

After we broke up, four years ago, we kind of cut off all contact with each other. It was what would be best for both of us. And it was good. We got to discover more about ourselves, and that was exactly what I needed. I'm not sure what he got out of the break up other than not having to report back to a girlfriend every couple of days.

"I've missed you too, Dean." It was true. I have missed him. When we talk, it's always around other people, and I don't even want to imagine the two of us together after a couple drinks. We'd probably be dry humping each other in whatever bar we were drowning our sorrows in.

"We've got a lot to catch up on, don't we?" He asks and I smile and nod.

"But not before we get some drinks to celebrate, right?!" Ricki shouts and I just roll my eyes and smile.