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Summary: Cordelia runs into Dean Winchester during a hunt, misunderstandings ensue. (co-written with catscorner)

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Cordelia-Centered(Past Donor)CasFR18211,6402113,18518 Apr 0822 Apr 08Yes

Ch. 2 of 2.

Dean paced the length of the small motel room. They’d been here four days, gotten rid of two baddies and were looking for a new gig. Correction, Sam had his nose buried in the papers and was looking. He couldn’t seem to concentrate.

Sam looked up from the paper and glared. “Can you sit down?”

Pointing at himself in question, Dean shrugged, the dropped down on the bed.

“Not on my bed with the shoes.”

Dean looked at his boot clad feet and gave Sam a ‘what the fuck’ look, ignoring him and that long, suffering sigh. He stared at the ceiling. Should be all white and cottage cheesy, right? No. Because he saw her face, her eyes. Why the hell couldn’t he get her out of his mind. Just another chick, right?

The sound of crunching paper was irritating, but you’d think it would pass as soon as Dean had his bag of chips open. But no, he was shaking it back and forth now. “Dude, you’re driving me crazy. Just go... go see her, or something.”

Dean sat up, “Huh?”

“Don’t huh me, just go, you know you’ve been wanting to.” He raised his hand to stop Dean from arguing. “Just go.”

* * *

Dean walked up the stairs and found himself in front of her apartment. Damn... she was probably the type of girl who was used to guys bringing wine or flowers. Tugging his shirt straight, he knocked.

Cordy was just settling in for a long overdue relaxing night at home when the unexpected knock came at her door. Dennis had the bubble bath running and her feet were propped up on the coffee table as she waved her hand across her toenails to dry the fresh coat of red paint. Assuming it was either Angel, Wesley, or Fred, she got up and duck-walked on her heels to avoid knocking the toe spreaders loose as she reached for the door.

Out of habit, she glanced through the peep hole and she jerked her hand off the door handle as if it burned her. It was him. The guy who had been plaguing her thoughts for the past few days.

Totally. Hot. Guy.

Gripped with utter panic, Cordy looked down at herself in horror. “Uh… just a minute…” she called out and broke for her bedroom, skidding across the hardwood as she took the sharp turn into her bedroom.

"Okay... take your time. Hope I didn't catch you with your clothes off or anything." He said the latter much lower, knowing she wouldn't catch it. Shifting, he tried to keep his mind from going to overdrive. He was here just to talk... that was it.

Stripping off her pajama pants and tank top, Cordy rifled through her closet until she found a sexy red dress and threw it on the bed before putting on a matching bra and panty set. Pulling her hair out of the ponytail, she shook it loose and changed her mind on the dress. Too slutty. After the encounter in the car, that was the last impression she wanted to reinforce. She rifled through the closet again and landed on a cute sweater and skirt that looked great with her new sandals. Toeing off the spreaders, she slipped the sandals on and she sprayed a light body spray out in front of her before walked through the mist on her way out of the bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her skirt and spoke in a low voice to her resident ghost. “Dennis, you need to make yourself scarce. Not scary, scarce. You hear me? I mean it…” she made a scowly face to show she meant business before she finally pulled open the door feigning a look of complete surprise.

“Hey…” she pretended to search her memory for the name that was hot on her lips. “Dean, right? Wow… didn’t expect to see you again.”

"Dean, that's right." Ouch. "Winchester," he added, "we seem to have skipped trading last names." As his gaze unabashadly slipped up and down her form, he was disappointed. He'd hoped he'd built her up in his mind, but Cordelia up close and personal affected him as strongly as she did in his imagination.

“That’s right, we did,” she said, not missing the way he just gave her the once over. “Which begs the question, how’d you find out where I live?” she cocked her hip against the door frame, still not inviting him inside.

"Lucky guess. I've got an instinct about these things,” he answered giving her an enigmatic smile, and nodding toward the door she'd effectively blocked. "Am I interrupting something, or can I come in?"

Hazel eyes narrowed slightly as she gave him a return look over, from his gorgeous green eyes right down to his well-worn boots. Finally, she stepped back and opened the door with a wave of her hand as she headed back into the living room.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and followed her inside, automatically closing the door behind them. "Nice place," he said, liking how open and uncluttered it felt, kind of like her. It smelled good too, or she did. Fresh and clean, like she'd just taken a shower... and there went his mind again.

"Glad I caught you, I mean... your line of business, more likely to be out than in at this time of the night."

“I could say the same about you…” she cocked her head and gestured for him to have a seat. What the hell was he doing here? And why the hell was her heart thumping double time every time she met his gaze? “Can I get you something? Wine? Beer?”

"Guess you could," he spread his hands and acknowledged the truth. "Beer would be great. Ever hear a way to a guy's heart is through his liquor?" Instead of sitting, he followed and leaned against the door frame of the kitchen.

There it went again. The thumpty-thump of a totally erratic heartbeat. And this time she wasn’t even looking at him, but it was what he said… and how he said it. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one…” she replied casually from behind the refrigerator door. Grabbing two bottles of Corona and a lime, she bumped the door shut with her hip. Setting everything on the counter she opened a drawer and produced a bottle opener and knife before turning to him with the utensils in hand. “Are you trying to imply I’m trying to find a way into your heart?” She a cocked a brow and gave him a cool look.

Who'd have thought a girl holding a knife would be that hot. Whew. He took a deep breath and gave her an innocent look. "Oh, I know when to keep my mouth shut, and that you know how to use that thing." Gesturing toward the knife, he looked back up at her. Course the knife was enough to remind him of that night.

He cleared his throat and sobered. "How's your shoulder doing?"

Cordy’s expression warmed into a smile and she handed over the bottle opener while she sliced the lime. “It’s fine… little Neosporin goes a long way, I guess. How’s that woman? She okay?” She kept her eyes on the fruit as her own question reminded her why she’d bolted without waiting to find out. That kiss…

He quickly opened both bottles, holding them out for her to add the lime. "She was confused and... broken jaw, but she's gonna be fine."

He waited for her to turn around. "That's kind of why I'm here. I mean about that night."

Mortified that he might be here to either apologize for or because of her complete lapse in judgment that night in the car, she stopped short with a slice of lime in either hand, refusing to raise her eyes to meet his. After a moment, she reached out and stuffed a wedge in each bottleneck before taking one and brushing past him. “Yeah, you know, if you hadn’t beaten the crap out of her…” she tossed over her shoulder in an attempt to steer clear of the topic of that kiss…

Turning around, she walked backward to lead him into the livingroom as she squeezed her lime into the bottle and licked her fingers.

"You and Sammy... you fight demons and you think you can be gentle," he rubbed his forehead and stopped in the middle of the room, mesmerized by the sight of her licking her fingers. When she turned to him, he dragged his gaze away. Lifting the bottle, he took a much needed swallow of the cold drink and tried to equate it to a cold shower.

Wiping the residue from his mouth with his thumb, he tried again. "Actually, what I'm trying to say is..." What the hell was he doing here anyway, he could be in his hotel room pacing.

Oh God. “Dean… don’t,” Cordy interrupted, her cheeks already burning. “You don’t need to say anything. Can we just forget it ever happened? I don’t normally do that… I mean, I’ve never done that. I don’t know what came over me...” She stopped from a full on attack of Willow-babble by taking a long drink and turning away to try and rein in the flush of embarrassment that colored her features.

He gave her a steady look, trying to figure her out. Any skills he thought he had in reading women were suddenly called into doubt. "I've never... I mean no one's ever done that for me either. Ever." Did it really matter that she hadn't been thinking, that she'd acted on instinct when she stepped in front of the knife? Not really. Not to him.

"I hate when people don't thank me when I..." he cocked his head to the side, "so I just wanted to thank you, but I see it's making you uncomfortable and..." he glanced at the front door and back at her. "Not really my intent. Want me to leave?"

A variety of expressions chased across Cordy’s features as she listened to him tell her he’d never been kissed before. Had he been living on a lesbian colony? No… those eyes… those lips… they’d turn even the most hard core lesbian straight. She opened and closed her mouth, her brows drawn into a look of utter disbelief. “You expect me to believe that was your first kiss? Because… wow…” she shook her head and barely resisting the urge to fan herself. “You hit it right out of the park.”

"My first kiss... you gotta be kidding, I was twelve," he sputtered, glad he had nothing in his mouth or there would have been spewage. He would have been really wounded if she hadn't redeemed herself. "But ah... out of the park? Really? Girl who knows how to use a knife, and her baseball... how'd I get so damned lucky." By the time he finished, he was all but beaming and ready to give her another demonstration.

“Wait… What?” Cordy stared. “If that wasn’t… then what were you thanking me for?”

"I could thank you for the kiss, if you want me to," his gaze dropped to her mouth. "I mean... can't think of anything more thankworthy than that."

Cordy’s lips pursed into a flat line and she folded her arms across her chest, cocking her hip. Clearly she’d been the only one obsessively thinking about that kiss and she’d just made a complete fool out of herself. Great. “You can thank me for the beer on your way out.”

If he hadn't been confused before, this confused the hell out of him. The important part was that he could see she wasn't happy with him, and that she was serious.

He gave her a nod and set the beer down on the coffee table. "Thanks. For the beer." He started to head for the door and turned around. "And for taking that knife for me. I meant what I said... no one's done that for me before, so thanks. I'd give you my number, just in case you ever need anything, but..."

Cordy felt a knot coiling in her belly as he moved toward the door and then his words hit her. “Taking the knife?” she dropped her arms and despite her better judgment she started toward him. “That’s what you were thanking me for?”

He gave a shrug. What the hell did she think he was thanking her for, he wondered, eyeing her warily as she advanced on him.

Not knowing what to say, Cordy squared her shoulders, bottle dangling from her fingers. “Well… you’re welcome, then,” she said a little stiffly, still embarrassed that she thought he’d been talking about the moment they’d shared. A moment that lived only in her own mind, apparently. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

"It was to me," he countered, his voice thick with emotion. Fuck, what the hell had got into him. He should just walk out of there. So what if he couldn't sleep or concentrate or that she kept creeping into his damned thoughts. "But you're probably right," he forced a smile, and reached behind his back for the door knob.

There was something in his voice that made her breath catch in her throat and she found herself closing the distance between them until her hand was on his, stopping him from turning the knob. “Right about what?”

"Nothing," he said automatically, feeling his chest constrict. He tried to tell himself it was just a physical reaction to her nearness, to her scent, but there was something else going on. It was like from the moment she'd saved his worthless hide, she'd been chipping away at the dam that held back his emotions.

A hint of uncertainty entered his eyes, and he dragged his gaze away and looked over at the wall for a minute, before turning back. "Are you angry at me for kissing you? Cause..." Come on, she had to know what she was doing to him, standing so close... touching his hand. He swallowed, and licked his lower lip.

“No,” her eyes fixed on him, studying him. It wasn’t nothing. It was definitely something. But why wouldn’t he say what he meant? Lowering her gaze, she swallowed and hoped that if she gave a little, he would to. “I’m mad because I just made a total idiot of myself…” she dropped her hand from his. “Thought maybe you came because we had some kind of connection.”

"You're not an idiot." Get out. Run. That would be the right thing to do. But Dean was rooted to the spot. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he had to be upfront about it with her. "But I was ... I don't know... crawlin' out of my skin because I had to see you again. I'm not so good with words. The one's that count, I mean."

And apparently he wasn't so good at controlling his body around her either, He had to ball his fists just to prevent himself from touching her, from dragging her up against him, from kissing her until she quenched the fires she'd started a few nights ago. Quickly, he hooded his eyes, afraid she'd see the absolute need in them.

“Tomorrow?” The echoed word slipped out, but whatever else she was going to say was squelched by the suffocating realization that once he walked out that door, she might never see him again.

He nodded. "Texas... then... we're on the road most of the time." It was crazy, but he couldn't fight the need to kiss her just one more time. He swore it would be enough, just one time to keep him going... to give him that fantasy of having found someone who would lay down her life for him, not because he was family or because she had to, but because she cared. He put his hands on the sides of her face and pulled her toward him as he lowered his mouth over hers. One light touch, and he was on fire. Stroking the planes of her face, and throat, learning them with his palms and thumbs, he deepened the kiss, needing, wanting her to burn up with him, to validate this thing he was feeling... suffering... was not his imagination.

A strangled noise escaped her lips, but she didn’t stop him… couldn’t stop him. Her hands traveled over the contours of his muscles and she pressed deeper into the kiss. Slipping her hands around his broad shoulders, she pulled herself tighter against his frame, desperate to feel his body pulsing against hers.

When she finally withdrew, her chest rose and fell with each quick breath, her gaze locked on his. What was she doing? It was crazy. He’d flat out told her he was leaving. At best it would be a one night stand that she’d never forget… and at worst, it would be a one night stand she would never forget…

And then she was kissing him again. Backing toward her bedroom, she lifted his shirt and dragged it over his head. As it fell to the floor she slowed, her gaze skimming over his chest, eyes flicking from the medallion that hung around his neck to the symbol emblazoned on his left pec. “Oh God,” she uttered the words, captivated by the sheer salty goodness that stood before her.

“Just Dean,” he answered, but was nowhere near as calm as he sounded. His heart was hammering up a storm so loud he could hardly hear, and it was all because of the way she looked at him. Like she was really seeing him... focusing on him.

He placed his hands on her slender waist and pushed the soft material of her sweater up slowly, the heat of her skin burning his palms. When she raised her arms, he pulled it off her and tossed it aside. As his gaze swept downwards, he became sharply aware of her... of her high breasts and the peaks of her nipples straining against the thin material of her bra. His entire body tensed with need, and it was his turn to groan, “oh God.”

He should go slow, he knew that. But he stepped forward, inserted one leg between hers, and bent his head, taking possession of her mouth. Consumed with need, he didn’t bother trying to hide it as he pulled her flush against him, and started to explore her body as thoroughly as he was exploring the tight confines of her mouth.

It was as if she’d been falling off a building with the ground rushing toward her when he swooped in to catch her, spinning trepidation into exhilaration that had her returning his kiss with equaled fervor. Adrenaline surged through her body as it molded to his. Everywhere he touched sent jolts of pleasure to her core and she mewled as his thigh pressed between her legs, her skirt hiking higher as she responded with a slow rock of her hips.

Needing more, she broke the kiss, her chest heaving breathlessly as her mouth moved over the angles of his face. Her tongue explored each curve and hollow, tasting him as she traveled down his neck. With effort, she slowed her movements and brought her hands together on his chest, resting her forehead there while she caught her breath. What was she doing? This was crazy…

At the feel of her mouth pressed against his chest, his breath slammed out of him. Skimming his hand down her long soft tresses, he reached the zipper at the back of her skirt and pulled it down. The thought of seeing her in just her panties and bra had his cock pulsing, even before her skirt dropped to the ground and she stepped away from it.

Beautiful didn’t do her justice. “So... not built like a demon hunter, not at all,” he said thickly, meeting her gaze. A hunter. Someone who got what he was doing, who was in the good fight herself... and he had to meet her now? His timing sucked. It fucking hurt.

Her head tilted to the side and a half smile on her lips, she looked into his eyes, sparking green emeralds more vibrant than any jewels she’d ever seen framed by lashes any girl would kill for. “You’ve got pretty definite ideas about demons and demon hunters…” Her hands smoothed down his chest and over his abdomen until she hooked her fingers inside the front of his jeans to jerk him back toward her. She could feel his thick arousal pressing against her belly as she worked his belt buckle loose. “You ready to start expanding your horizons?” The half smile pulled into a coy smirk as her hand slipped over his groin and she pressed against him.

His gut clenched in reaction, making it hard for him to speak. “Believe me, you got me expanding in the right directions,” he whispered harshly over her ear, drawing her close and breathing her scent in, enjoying the way her breasts felt against his chest.

As her hand slid up and down his straining cock, his undid her bra and moved his hand between their bodies, cupping her breast. He squeezed her, teased her, and tried not to concentrate on the intensity of the reactions she was drawing from him, until it became impossible for him to take it a minute longer.

“Cordy... ahhh,” he groaned out the desperate plea, pulling her leg up over his hip and shuddering when her core slid against his cock. “Fu... I knew you were gonna be the death of me.” Unable to fight the needs of his body, he was thrusting against her. It felt good, so good... and once they were skin to skin... Bed, he needed to get her into bed.

Need slammed into her like a velvet hammer, knocking her completely senseless. Hands clutching the back of his neck, Cordy pulled herself up his body. She felt his strong hands cupping her ass and when he lifted, she wrapped her legs around his waist, hips grinding as he walked her into the bedroom. When he kicked the door open, she was momentarily distracted by the fact that the slutty red dress was strewn on the bed and the room was littered with remnants of her mad dash to look presentable when Dean had unexpectedly arrived at her door. At the time, she never would have imagined she’d be ending up back here with him so soon. But now, she couldn’t imagine anything else.

When he lowered her onto the bed, she laid back and smiled up at him. Traces of a sultry yearning glinted in her eyes and her awareness of him showed plainly in her face. The way he was looking at her sent a thrill rippling through her and brought an irrepressible smile to her lips. Her eyes trailed over his chest and six pack abs settling on the contour of his cock straining against his jeans.

Lifting her leg, she ran her foot up the inside of his leg, beckoning him to come join her on the bed.

Dean bit his lower lip at the unexpected touch and caught her ankle. Pulling her to the edge of the bed and never taking his eyes off her, he grinned back... no doubt about it, he liked what he saw. And even more, he liked that she wasn’t shy or coy... that she didn’t hide from him.

He kneeled and kissed her stomach, moving his open mouth back and forth. She tasted good, so good. And smelled like vanilla. God he wanted her... but he wanted her crazy for him first, so he kept part of his clothes to help him resist what his body was screaming for.

Cordy writhed into his touch, her muscles quivering as his lips and tongue skated over her. Her hands moved to his head, fingering through his hair. “Dean…” she gasped and raised her hips when he pressed forward, forcing her legs to spread around his broad chest. “One of us has way too much clothing on…” she said through ragged breaths.

Raising himself up so his cock slid up against her, he gave her a pained smile. “Believe me, I’m doing this for you.”

An unintelligible noise escaped her lips and she threw her head back, arching and clenching her legs around him. “Oh God…” she moved her hips, desperately seeking the friction her body craved.

“Just Dean,” he reminded, moving against her, once, twice... watching her reactions and almost going mad with need. It was as if they both ignited at once, he lowered himself over her, she arched up toward him, and their mouths met in hard, frenzied kisses. He stroked and squeezed her, ran his hands over every part of her, burning, needing, thrusting, trying to ease his aching need.

This woman was made for loving. Damn.... The sounds she made almost had him crying. He couldn’t get enough, and needed more. Sliding his hand between them, he slipped hand under her panties, groaning as his fingers slid over her wet heat. It made him think of how she’d feel around him, clenching him, the way her legs were clenched around his waist.

The laugh that broke her lips at his lame repeated quip morphed into a primal moan as he ravaged her, touching her in a way that had her writhing and fisting the comforter. Her hips rose to meet his fingers and she drew in fast, shallow pants… she could feel her control slipping away and she fought to maintain it, her head rolling back and forth.

“Please… Dean…” It was going too fast. What was it about him that had her mind and body on a collision course? One night. They only had one night and she wanted it to last forever, but her body had other ideas. Her thighs clamped hard around him and her nails bit into his shoulder blades even as her hips bucked up into him. “Want you.”

Pressing his lips together, he nodded. "Ditto." Pulling back, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a tin foil, then quickly shucked his jeans. Pulling her leg up over his shoulder, he started to kiss up and down her inner thigh, distracting her while he put on the condom.

When he was ready, he pulled her other leg up over his shoulder, dragging her so close that his surging cock was lodged up against her entrance. Clasping an arm around one of her legs, and gripping her waist with the other, he started to rock back and forth, each time a little harder, working his cock inside her. The intensity of the sensations washing over him had him gripping her hard, struggling to breath. He wanted to snap his hips forwarded, wanted so bad to fuck, he thought he was gonna die.

Cordy threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, clutching at the bedspread and releasing tiny whimpers of pleasure as he inched inside her with excruciating control. “Oh GOD!” she finally cried out, slamming her pelvis into him to take him to the hilt. She bit her lip and her eyes flew open, locking on his as she held him there, feeling every part of him inside her. “Don’t say it…”

"Say..." he could barely think with his entire body throbbing, but he glimpsed the humor flashing in her eyes, and he got it. "It's Dean," he growled, making a heroic effort not to lose it. Pulling back, he surged forward, burying himself deep inside her in a long, hard stroke. She was rocking his world, did she know it, he wondered, as he set a fast rhythm, leaning over her as far as he could, skimming his mouth over her breasts and abdomen, breathing her scent with every ragged breath he took.

“You said it,” she gasped out in a strangled cry, teetering precariously close to the edge of bliss as her hips bucked in perfect synch with the turbulent rhythm Dean set. A slight shift and he was suddenly striking her clit with each powerful stroke, shattering whatever control she had left. When she felt herself start to convulse around him, she clutched his arms, nails biting into rock hard muscles as her body lifted and arched. She cried out in a greedy sob of need, begging him not to stop, their momentum growing faster and harder all at once, replacing the pangs of pleasure with one steady, aching storm of ecstasy.

"Did I? Would it make it better, if I said sorry?" he ground out haltingly. It took everything he had to be able to keep talking as he pumped, his biceps straining each time he lifted. Her cries were bringing him close to the edge, making him crazy with need... he was close, so close, but the image of her on top of him kept teasing his mind. That’s how he’d been imagining her the last few days, with her long hair brushing over him. That’s how he had to have her.

Stopping abruptly, he moved back and re-adjusted and rolled over, supporting her back so she came up into a sitting position on top of him. He knew she’d been as close as he was, and needed to explain, even as he gripped her hips and started to rock his own up. “Been thinking about this, since you fought me for my gun...” Her hair was swaying over him, inches from touching him the way he ached to be touched.

Cordy released a frustrated groan even as her hips started to gyrate over him. Eyes dark with lust locked on his and she quirked a wicked grin. “Well I got your gun now…” her inner walls tightened around him, sheathing his cock as she reset their pace to a slow, measured grind. “So I guess this means I win,” she lowered herself so she could capture his lips in a sensual kiss, never stopping the motion of her hips as she worked over his arousal.

"Locked and loaded, baby," he pulled her down, running his fingers through her hair. It felt better than he'd even imagined, tickling his chest... fanning around his face, stroking his cheek.

She was squeezing him each time she rocked. Making him almost blind with desire. Slow was good, but he needed fast. Gripping her tight, he started lifting his hips clear off the bed, burying himself so deep inside her, murmuring her name repeatedly as he got closer to finding his release.

“Oh no…” she lifted her hips to counter his thrust, forcing him back to her pace. “I win… means my way.” Lips pulled into a seductive smile, she teased him, alternating a deep churning grind with a pump of her pelvis to squeeze him like a vice. Her hair fell in a black curtain around her face and she held his gaze. God, but he was gorgeous.

"You really want to break me, don't you?" He was hoarse, and frustrated, and desperate, but he couldn't complain. Not when her velvety hot walls closed on him like that, not when each of her movements sent searing heat through his system. And not when he'd found someone who didn't mind talking through sex.

Forcing himself to hold back, to let her show him how she wanted him, let her have it. He reached up, lingering on her curves, then moving his hand up to the slender column of her throat, and to her mouth. "You've got a wicked mouth on you, know that?" he asked, tracing it as if mesmerized, and running his finger across its seam.

“Mmmhmmm,” she murmured, eyes dropping to half-lidded as his touch seared her already burning flesh. Her lips parted and closed around his fingers, sucking as her hips rocked, drawing him in and out of her slick heat.

Levering upright so her back was straight, her head lolled back and his wet finger dropped from her mouth to trace the soft contour of her chin, dragging down over her curves until he was cupping her breasts, skimming his thumbs over her nipples as their hips ground together. The more gently he touched her, the more aroused she became, her breaths quickening again to match the palpitations of her heart.

When she rocked forward again, she fixed him with a sultry gaze as she placed her hand over his and guided it down to where their bodies where joined. When his thumb flicked over her clit, she hissed out her pleasure and started moving faster, riding him harder, meeting his rising hips thrust for thrust.

Dean moved his thumb in circles, groaning when she clenched and unclenched her muscles around his cock, now aching for release so bad he was ready to beg. His hips surged up higher, faster, until they were both moving at a fevered pitch. He didn't know where she ended and where he began, or how much time passed, but he knew he needed to come off ... now. Raising himself up, he licked a path up her abdomen, as far as he could reach, then pleaded. "Now Cordy... please, now."

His desperate plea was like a detonator rocketing through to her core to trigger a rapturous explosion that had her shrieking his name. As Dean spilled over the edge with her, her entire body seized and shuddered, riding the shockwaves that ripped through her with each primal jerk of his pelvis.

He heard a thick, broken cry, and realized it came from him... that he'd answered her call. Though the sharp edge of his desire had eased, intense sensations continued to wash over him each time she moved, trying to make it last as long as she could.

His gaze locked with hers. Is this what they meant when they said it was different when there was a connection? Scared to think on that further, he dragged her down to him. Her hair spilled over his chest, then he felt her breasts brush against him as he sought out her mouth, plundering it and trying to quiet the voices in his head. Live for the moments, make them count... that's what he was doing right here... and maybe this was going down as his best moment.

Still dizzy with euphoria, Cordy’s mouth closed over his. Where she had no breath, he breathed new life into her… where she should have felt weak, she found strength in his kisses… where there should have been quips and jokes to ease the awkwardness of their one night stand, there was only the exchange of wanton murmurs… where they should have parted to go their separate ways, their bodies remained joined as one.

When she finally pulled back, Cordy looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he was still there. He wasn’t a fantasy. He was the real deal. Her heart leapt into her throat and her breath hitched. She didn’t know what to say… they only had tonight. Slowly, she slid to the side and rolled over so her back was to him, closing her eyes as he curled protectively around her.

Something had flashed in her eyes for the space of a heart beat. Something he couldn't answer, not with words, or explanations. Not even when for once in his life he wanted to... really wanted to.

Instead, he bent his head, and gently kissed her shoulder blade. The wound would fade. It was selfish of him to wonder whether he would fade from her memories with them, and even worse that he felt a stab of pain at the possibility.

* * *

Dean stared resentfully at the clock. 4:58 a.m. Time was the enemy. The Enemy was time. Two more minutes were slipping by too fast.

He leaned into the woman he’d been holding onto all night long. Breathed in her scent, trying to memorize it, trying to tell himself it would be enough. But when she murmured something sounding like his name, his chest constricted. Fear. Fear of losing something precious.

Sonovabitch. He couldn’t do this. Shouldn’t have to do this. 4:59.

“Cordy,” he whispered so low, even he had trouble hearing his voice. She didn’t stir. They’d pretty much worn each other out. In the shower, ... on the bed, when they’d made love, he hadn’t thought it was possible to go so long on a slow burn.

Weird thing was, it had all been in silence. He felt like they were communicating just by the looks that passed between them, and the touches. Like she knew nothing could change the fact he had to go. She hadn’t asked why... hadn’t made him feel guilty... hadn’t asked him to stay. She just knew.

If that wasn’t a connection, what was?

The number 59 slipped into 00, and every cell in Dean’s body rebelled. But then he thought of the alternatives, and whipped her soft sheets aside. It took him a while to get dressed since he had to find his clothes that were strewn all over the place. Almost the entire time, even when he was in the other room getting his shirt, his eyes were on her sleeping body.

When he returned and stood over her, he found it hard to swallow. So perfect, and that hair, how the hell had he gotten so freakin’ obsessed over hair? Reaching out, he twirled a strand around his finger, closed his eyes and was lost for a moment in a world that could not be.

When the daydreams came to a braking halt, he bit his lip, shook his head at himself, and walked away. Just walked away.

* * *

They’d been driving for hours in silence. Sam kept trying to strike up conversation, but Dean barely responded. He just stared straight ahead, one arm over the steering wheel, face set like stone.

“Dean?” Sam tried again.


Sam shrugged. Dean had to know what he was asking.


Yeah, he knew. “I think we should talk about it.” Despite his non-confrontational tone, Dean’s mouth straightened into an unhappy line.

“Nothing to talk about. How far are we from the next town? I need java.”

“About a hundred twenty.” Sam answered, catching the silent oath that his brother mouthed. That was it, he had to get him to talk. “Pull over.”

Dean stepped on the gas pedal, switched lanes to get by a slow driver, and kept speeding up. His jaw was set, and he was wearing that ‘don’t fuck with me’ look. Sam had to wondered if Dean was using the roar of the engine to drown out the troubles plaguing his mind. Lord knew, he’d used that trick himself.

He should let it drop. He would have, if he didn’t feel the misery and tension roiling off Dean. It worried him when Dean wouldn’t confront his feelings. And yeah, he felt guilty. He’d been the one to push him to go see Cordelia. He’d never dreamed his brother would come back looking broken on the inside.

Sam licked his lips and braced. “Dean...”

“Sam,” Dean snapped. “Enough.”

“Listen…” He kept watching Dean, trying to find the words. In the end, he decided to keep it simple. “What happened last night?”

That did it. Sam had to hold onto the ‘oh shit handle’ when Dean suddenly pulled to the side of the road and got out. He took a deep breath and followed, moving from the passenger side to the front of the car, and half sitting on the hood next to Dean. The way dean was staring at the field in front of them, you’d think something other than wheat growing was going on.

“Whatever it is, it’s eating you up, Dean.”

“It’s nothing.” Dean pressed his lips together, brushing off Sam’s worries.

“It’s not nothing. Now what happened?” Sam insisted, touching Dean’s shoulder, making him acknowledge his presence.

Dean turned. “What do you think happened?”

“Apart from the obvious?” Sam asked, spreading his hands in the air. “You fell for her.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, and didn’t answer.

“Did you give her your number?” Another silent response, one that drew a heated question from Sam. “Dean, why not?”

“Don’t get fucking sentimental on me, alright?” Dean cleared his throat, and glared at him.

Sam kept his mouth shut and waited. He could tell Dean resented the questions, the silence. But he was still sitting here, and that was good sign.

“What the fuck does she need my number for? Huh? In case you’ve forgotten, I’m just a dead man walking.”

Sam flinched. Their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. “I’m not letting you go, and you’re not giving up.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“But you’re giving her up.” He’d never seen Dean this worked up over a girl, he was afraid for him.

“Can’t give up what you don’t have. Are you done, now?”

Dean was looking down at the ground, stoic as ever. Sam just wanted to cry for him. For the pain he might cause with his next question. “No, I’m not done. Love her?”

Dean made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know her.” But when he looked up and their gazes locked, Sam saw right through him. He waited, urged him on with a look. There had to be more.

“But I could have… maybe.” Dean’s throat convulsed.

“Let’s go back. To L.A.”

“For what?” Dean’s head snapped toward Sam. “To tell her to what, wait for something that might never happen? You think that’s fair, Sam?” There was a pause. “Didn’t think so. Now get back in the car or I’m leaving your ass here.”

Sam couldn’t hide his feelings anymore than Dean could. How could anything so fucking wrong be right? Knowing Dean meant business, that he’d had enough, Sam patted his back and headed to the passenger side. From inside that car, he watched his brother take a few moments alone. His shoulders moved like he was taking a deep breath, then shoved a pair of sunglasses on and pushed away from the car.

The brittle smile he wore when he started the car up didn’t fool Sam. He knew why Dean had those glasses on. “Wake me up when we get there,” he said quietly, leaning back and closing his eyes. Maybe the roar of the engine would drive both of their demons away.


(A/N: Hope you enjoyed that. This was just a test run, so the story is short. We hope to write a more plotty and longer story soon)

The End

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