Hunting Hearts

Chapter 4

Needless to say the ride back to the bunker was quiet and awkward. Dean felt the shift in my mood and Sam felt the shift in Dean. I didn't say anything after walking into the bunker and went straight to the room they'd given me, pulling today's spoils out of the bags. 

Jeans, jeans, and more jeans, I need to update my style. I sighed, shaking my head and putting everything into the laundry hamper I'd discovered in one of the empty dresser drawers before I'd gone to bed. I really hope there's a laundry room in this place, I think. 

I start out the door and work my way through the hall but pause when I hear voices trying unsuccessfully to be quiet from the room with all the bookshelves. 

"You should've told me," Sam says. 

"It was a couple years ago. I didn't think I'd see her again. I didn't think she'd get wrapped up in this." Dean's voice. 

They're talking about  me.

"Dean you were romantically involved with her." 

"So what? It's in the past-"

"Don't give me that crap. I see the way you're looking at her," Sam cuts in. 

"And in what way am I looking her Sam?" 

I decided I definitely didn't want to hear what Sam said next so I made my steps a little louder than necessary and I immediately heard the conversation stop. When I finally enter the room both brothers are a good space apart, Sam with his hands in his pockets and Dean with his arms folded across his chest. The same stormy expression circles in their eyes but Sam quickly masks it when he sees the hamper in my hands. 

"Do you guys, uh, have a laundry room?" I ask, showing them the bag. 

"Yeah, back that hallway the door should have a label on it." Sam tells me. 

"Great. Thanks." I give a close lipped smile and shuffle back down the hall. 

It takes me a couple minutes of walking back and forth to find the door, but when I find it I'm pleasantly surprised. The room itself is a good size and almost looks like a 25 cent laundry mat, washers along one wall and dryers against another. Hanging racks in the back for clothes that can't be thrown into the dryer and cabinets on the wall above the dryers. It's tedious work but I separate the clothes by color and wash type and throw each of the loads into their own washer, hoping it would decrease the amount of time I'd need to spend in here. 

After starting the loads I sneak out and grab a quick read from the bookshelves where Sam and Dean had been arguing earlier. I sit on top of a dryer and begin to flip through the pages, I'd grabbed something on Greek mythology but it wasn't holding my attention. 

It was true what Dean had told Sam, it was years ago, and I don't know if it was romantic in any way, but we did get together. 

"What can I get you?" I ask the handsome stranger in front of me.

"Three double scotches, please." His voice is low and it slides across my skin, but it's not the only thing. I can see his eyes make their way down my body and then back up, landing on my lips. Heat rises to my cheeks, not because I wasn't used to being looked up and down, but because the person doing it looked like that. 

His green eyes were dilated and faint freckles danced across his face. He was gorgeous and he knew it, a small smirk playing on his lips. I coughed after realizing I was just staring and not getting his drinks. I placed them in front of him and watch as he downs them all in quick succession. 

"Long day?" I ask, raising a brow. 

The stranger chuckles, "You have no idea." 

It wasn't long before we started talking and I learned his name; Dean. I liked the way it formed in my mouth and he liked it when I was saying it from underneath him. Right after my shift he'd taken me to his car and it didn't take too long for us to end up in the backseat. We'd gone back the motel he was staying at afterwards and continued throughout the weekend. 

"Teagan?" A voice snaps me from the memory, and speak of the devil. It's like he could sense that I'm thinking about him. I realize that my thighs are clenched together and I'm holding the book with white knuckles, I release the tension but I know Dean saw. Something lights in his eyes but it's gone like smoke when I look closer. 

"Hey," I say nodding at him. He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, hesitantly making his way towards me. I become disappointed when he stops an appropriate distance away from me, clearly reading the tension in my body as something other than what it is. 

"I'm sorry if I did something to upset you today," Dean swallows. "I wasn't trying to-"

"It's fine." I interject and grin at him. "It was kind of fun to see you squirm in the last store." 

He laughs and I see some pressure lift from his shoulders, he scoots closer to me and I fail trying to keep my breathing even. 

"I wasn't interested in her, in case you were wondering." Dean admits surprising me a little. 

"What?"

"The woman who got all touchy, I know you saw." He laughs as a flush creeps up my neck. "You can admit it, I know you were watching." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply but my voice isn't as strong as I want it to be. Dean comes closer and positions himself in front of me, between my legs. It would take nothing to wrap my legs around his waist and for him to pick me up off this dryer. He takes the barely read book out of my hands and puts it to the side. My breathing is unsteady when he places his hands on either side of my thighs. 

"Do you remember the day we met? How I had you under me in the backseat of the very same car that sits outside right now?" His face is slowly closing the space between us. "I remember. I remember the way you felt, the noises you made." 

I don't think I'm breathing anymore, but I say, "Oh yeah?" 

Dean's smile is devilish. "Yeah." I can smell him, ceaderwood and leather and a little bit of alcohol. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me? It's hard to think with his body so close to my own, our breath mixing. 

He abruptly pulls back and cold air washes over me. "Come find me when you're ready to admit it." Dean says and smiles, leaving me hot and alone in the laundry room. The only sound in the room is the running of the washing machines and my own ragged breathing.