Siren's Song

Home

It's different with her gone - in that peculiar, not quite bored to tears, but definitely still bored way that only seems to take hold when she's not home. When she's flown to London for work on whatever cooking show wants her to show them a thing or two.

You'd think after being single, or unwed at least, for so long, having the house to himself wouldn't be such a dreadful experience but it quickly becomes a monotonous routine.

Coffee, breakfast, kill time, lunch, kill time, dinner, kill time, and then dent his pillow in an effort to make it more comfortable. Not that it is any less comfortable. The beating is frustration more than anything.

Tonight?

The same.

He's there, in their bed, sheets bunched across his waist, one arm draped across his eyes, the other flung across the empty mattress where she should be. It's cold and empty and it'll be three more days before her warmth is back where it should be. Sleep is a sneaky bastard, and he can't help but groan when it evades capture, once more.

"You could just call her..." he grumbles to himself, dropping the arm covering his eyes. He gropes the nightstand for his phone, picking it up to check the time.

One a.m.

It'd be about nine a.m., give or take a few minutes, and she's probably at work, already, or at least, getting ready for work. He shouldn't disturb her for a few minutes of conversation that won't satisfy his need to see her. Of course, if asked, he'd say he doesn't remember dialing her number but he does.

"Isn't it, like, one in the morning over there?" is her question when the line clicks.

"Yes." he sighs, sinking into the mattress.

"Can't sleep? She inquires.

"Nope." he grumbles, "Your side of the bed is too cold, sweetheart."

"You know, you could have come with me." she doesn't laugh at his pain, but she also knows, he could have hopped that same flight to London she had. He could be there with her. "You could be with me in my tourist ventures that are bound to get me laughed at by locals."

"Nobody's gonna laugh at you, Teri." Dean laughs softly. "If they do, you have knitting needles. You can always beat the shit out of them."

"That's not really me, though." Teri reminds him. A pause, a sigh, and then a forlorn, "I guess I'll have to get a handsome British man to buy me a drink..."

Dean's jealousy is immediate; hot and furious and a dark growl torn from his throat.

"Like hell!"

Teri giggles on the other end. He's made the quiet morning off seem a little less lonely, made her feel a little less homesick. But, she knows he needs to rest, he's got work to do, and he'll collapse on the set if he doesn't get some rest. "Have you slept since I left?"

"I caught a couple hours on the couch, yesterday." Dean murmurs; his voice a thick rasp from exhaustion, despite the inability to sleep.

"So, no?"

"Not a full night, no."

"Dean..." Teri sighs. "Do we need to see a doctor?"

"I'll be fine as soon as you get back." Dean reminds her. "I always am. It's just while you're gone that makes me miserable."

"I'm homesick, too." Teri sniffles. "I have the day off and it's not the same without you. I hate this little hotel room and I miss you and our coffee and I want to come home, Dean."

"I know, but it's just a couple of more days, sweetheart." his reassurance does little but he tries. "You'll be home in a couple of days and we'll have coffee and breakfast together and you'll be back in our bed." but it does little to abate the tears and sniffles. "Hey, sweetheart, sing for me?"

"What?" the shock of his request is enough to stop the sniffles.

"Sing?"

Okay, but what? There was always - well, no, that's just a cliche, given the number of times she sang it for one episode. Or there was - wait, no. That song was about cheating. Bad move, Hatcher. Bad, bad move. A little further down the mental playlist of songs to practice when bored is one that might fit both of them.

"Another summer day has come and gone away in Paris and Rome but I want to go home..." it's soft, needing to sink into the melody a little, steady herself, and build her confidence. "Maybe surrounded by a million people, I still feel all alone...I just want to go home. Oh, I miss you, you know."

A little more confidence, a little louder, she croons tenderly to her husband an ocean away; "And, I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you, each one a line or two, I'm fine, baby, how are you...well, I would send them but I know that it's just not enough. My words were cold and flat and you deserve more than that..."

Dean feels her voice tugging the tense knots of frustration out of his muscles, pulling at his eyelids, softening his huffs of annoyance into deep, even breaths. "Another aeroplane, another sunny place, I'm lucky I know but I want to go home..."

Sniffle and then a gentle hum; "Mmmm, I've got to go home, let me go home." she picks it up, again. "I'm just too far from where you are, I want to come home. And I feel just like I'm living someone else's life. It's like I just stepped outside when everything was goin' right. And, I know just why you could not come along with me, this was not your dream, but you always believed in me..."

The homesickness, exhaustion, insomnia, it all fades away because travelling the world to cook for this show, or that charity - that's her dream, not his, but he never told her not to do it. He wanted her to do whatever made her happy, as long as she came home, again. And, she does. She always goes home, and that's where she's headed, just as soon as filming wraps, tomorrow.

"Another winter day has come and gone away in even Paris and Rome and I want to go home, let me go home," she quietens her voice again; something tender and soothing to chase away the last remnants of his insomnia, something to tug irresistibly at him until he's giving in and drifting off, allowing himself the comfort of sleep. "Let me go home. And I'm surrounded by a million people, I still feel alone. Oh, let me go home. Oh I miss you, you know."

God, does she miss him.

She misses his heavy presence, his heat, she misses the feel of him underneath her, on top of her, surrounding her. And, sleeping alone only emphasizes that void. "Let me go home, I've had my run...baby, I'm done. I gotta go home. Let me go home. It'll all be alright. I'll be home tonight..."

"I'm coming back home.."

Dean drifts off to sleep.

Teri wishes she could go home.