#instead of having to cram myself into a childhood bedroom and an impression of me that ive outgrown for two decades now

[your-fave-is-bi]

nearing mid december, time for my yearning and winter sads to come in full swing

[sophisticated-angel]

Halfway

Character: Dean Winchester

Warning: Cheating (depending on who’s side you take)

Word Count: 5,945

Pairing: Almost Dean x Reader

Summary: The reader has no desire for permanent relationships. No man can give her what she wants, so she calls them “halfways”. She knows Dean, and though they both seem to harbor an attraction for one another, he wants something that will last. 

Loosely Based on the Song Halfway by Parachute.

Story

    You are ten and throwing rocks at the ducks floating in a pond in the park. At this age, your aim is accurate but not accurate enough to get a notable success streak. Even if it was, the rocks are too small to do any damage; the ducks startle and quack a bit on the off chance you hit one of them. The park is damp and chilly, shrouded in a thin afternoon fog. It’s too cold here for most people which makes it perfect for you. Dean shows up after you throw your sixth rock.

    “Hey,” he says.

    “Hey,” you answer.

    Wordlessly, he picks up his own rock and chucks it at the nearest duck. It hits the bird dead on the wing, and it waddles away in surprise. You’ve met Dean a few times before, brief visits when his dad came to town on business, but you never pay much attention to him because he’s older. Mostly you play with Sam, who is your age.

    “Where’s Sam?” you ask.

    “On the swings.” Dean throws another rock. This one misses and hits the water with a plop. “This park sucks.”

    “I like the ducks.”

    “Then why do you throw stuff at them?”

    “That’s all there is to do.”

    “Yeah. This park sucks.” Two more rocks are thrown in succession, and then the flock decides they’ve been harassed enough and moves farther out in the pond. You and Dean watch them go. “I’ve got a BB gun in my dad’s car,” Dean says. “Want to get that and really have some fun with those ducks?”

    “Nah. They won’t come back if we do that.”

    “Eh. Wanna catch a movie?”

    “Don’t have money.”

    “Don’t need money to sneak in. Wanna go?”

    You shrug. “Sure.”

    Discarding your last stones, you abandon the pond and the ducks and head out of the park. Sam skips over to join you, brushing wood chips out of his dark hair.

    “We should go to Vegas,” Sam says to you.

    “Too expensive.”

    “The Grand Canyon?”

    “Too hot.”

    “So are the Everglades.”

    “There are alligators in the Everglades, Sam.”

    “So?”

    “I want to see an alligator.”

    “What’s this about going to the Everglades?” Dean inquires.

    “Me and Sam are gonna run away when we’re older,” you explain.

    It’s a plan that has been in the making since the brothers’ last visit. You and Sam share a dislike for your current lives, so you’ve been conspiring to hit the road as soon as one of you can drive. The plan is to tour the States, all fifty if possible.

    “You can come too, Dean,” Sam adds. “That way me and (y/n) won’t have to drive all the time.”

    Dean rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

    “I’m gonna have lots of boyfriends,” you say. “I’ll keep them until they get boring, and then I’ll break up with them.”

    “Little young to be a maneater, aren’t you?”

    “What’s that?”

    “Nothing. What movie do you two snots want to see?”

    You share a look with Sam. “Something R-rated.”

* * * * *

    You are sixteen and still hanging out at the park. Instead of rocks you carry a BB gun and a pocketful of pellets, and you fully intend to use every one. For now you sit on the swings and smoke a cigarette while you wait for some poor animal to get in range of the gun. The cigarettes are a new habit. You aren’t sure where you picked it up, just that you sometimes smoke, usually when stress is at its peak.

    “Get that thing out of your mouth.” A hand flicks the cigarette from between your lips. “You’ll get lung cancer or some crap.”

    “Relax, Dean. I smoke like one a week.”

    “One a week will turn into one a day, and before you know it you’ll be burning through a pack a day. Quit now while it’s still easy.” Dean takes the swing next to you. It sways a bit under his weight.

    “Like you’ve never smoked.”

    “Never.”

    “Pot counts.”

    “Fine. I’ve smoked once.”

    You chuckle. Having seen Dean Winchester doped up on pain meds, you can only imagine what he’d be like high on pot. It was last year when you saw how he was on acceptable drugs. Your dad pressured you into working a hunt with the older brother, and it ended with him getting a couple of cracked ribs, you breaking a wrist, and both of you running away from a string of cops that were on your tail. After that, your dad stopped pushing you to hunt, and you haven’t asked about it since.

    “Heard about your breakup,” says Dean. “Tough break.”

    “He was an idiot anyway. I’m over it.”

    “I’ll shoot him if you want.”

    “He’s not worth it.”

    “You gonna hit him with that BB gun yourself?”

    “This is for shooting ducks.”

    “You used to like the ducks.”

    “Still do. They make great target practice.”

    “Damn.”

    Sighing, you toe the gun at your feet. “Man, as soon as I turn eighteen, I am out of here.”

    “Not happy?”

    “Nope. I need out. Is Sam up for running away still?”

    “Sammy’s thinking about going to college and settling down. Don't tell my dad.”

    “Boring.”

    “That’s what I said.”

    “Guess I’ll have to go by myself then.”

    He nods. “Go for it.”

    “Mm.” Resting your head on the chain of the swing, you look Dean up and down.

    He’s barely twenty years old, and already he looks accustomed to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Standing, he has an imposing, easy stance; sitting, he gives the impression of owning the place. Girls flock to him, and in the one month of high school you had together, you felt cool when he hung out with you in the halls. Anyone who doesn’t think he’s a catch is an idiot.

    You kiss him now, for no apparent reason. You don’t have a crush on him, you aren’t desperate for a rebound, you just want to kiss him. So you kiss him. It’s warm, but the suddenness makes it stiff and a little awkward. Both of you hold your breath, and when you pull away, he’s staring unblinking at you. Biting your lip, you scoop up the BB gun and fire a shot at a passing squirrel. The pellet misses, burrows harmlessly into the damp earth, and the squirrel scampers to safety. Dean jumps at the noise.

    “What the hell was that?” he breathes.

    “Just trying to bag a squirrel.”

    “Not that, the . . . the-”

    “The kiss?” You shrug and fire at a second squirrel. This one misses too. “It was just a kiss. They happen.”

    “Not between us, they don't. You’re my best friend!”

    “It was a kiss, Dean. Geez.” From your jacket you pull a new cigarette, but Dean smacks it out of your hand before you can get a lighter.

    “Get rid of the damn smokes!”

    With a huff, you tuck the gun under your arm and get up from the swings. You practically jog out of the park, leaving Dean and the kiss behind you.

* * * * *

    You are twenty-one and have finally moved out of your childhood house. It was never a home, just four walls and a roof that protected you from outside elements, not so much from an oppressive lifestyle and negligent parenting. Anyway, it was probably cram-packed with asbestos and lead and mold. Your little apartment is much better than that old house. Your cigarette and BB gun days are over, traded out for a job and the adventures of bill paying. Presently, Dean Winchester is shacking up with you, using your ever vacant parking spot for his car and sharing your bed. He’s a gifted lover who brings home burgers and beer, but you don’t consider him permanent. Gifted or not, he’s not your ‘boyfriend’, and he won’t be here forever. None of them have ever lasted very long.

    “Is it alright if Sam comes over?” he asks when you come home today.

    “I thought Sam was in college.” Setting your purse on the table, you head to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

    “He is, but it’s spring break, and he’s still not on speaking terms with Dad. I just haven’t seen him in a while, and I know you haven’t either.” He speaks utterly unfazed while you strip down in front of him. “It’s just for a couple of days. His buddies are going to Washington next week.”

    “Washington?”

    “Law geeks, remember?”

    “Ah. Well, I suppose he can stay. He’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

    “Thanks.”

    There comes a knock at the door just as you pull on one of Dean’s t-shirts, and you raise an eyebrow questioningly.

    “That would be Sam . . .”

    Hands on your hips, you mutter “really?” as you walk past him and to the door. On the other side stands Sam, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looks worn out from his long drive, and he smells like he hasn’t showered in couple of days. Still, you embrace him.

    “Damn, you got tall,” you observe. “Finally got that growth spurt, huh?”

    “I guess so.” He pauses, looking you up and down, not missing your pantslessness. “Dean just asked if I could stay, didn’t he?”

    “Of course not. He asked weeks ago.”

    Sam laughs. “I’m sorry about him.”

    “I’m used to it. You coming in or what?”

    Through dinner and after, Sam regales you of his adventures in higher education. He turns out to be the boring kind of student, so nothing he’s done is too exciting. He tells you of the time he thought he smoked pot but it turned out to be oregano, of the appallingly tame parties he’s attended and hosted, the kegger where a couple of jocks streaked across campus (shamefully, he has no photo evidence of this), the girl or two that tried to come on to him but was discouraged by his incessant nerdiness, and the nights he stayed up for hours cramming for midterms. None of you are really interested in the movie playing on TV.

    Eventually you persuade Sam to use your shower, and while the movie plays out, Dean falls asleep stretched out across the couch with his feet on your lap. Credits roll, and Sam returns, this time in sweats and a bleach-stained t-shirt. He stuffs his dirty clothes into his backpack and then observes his unconscious brother, and you observe him.

    Since you last saw him, he’s changed. There’s the mental shift from hardened hunter to educated boy with a dream, but the physical change is what you always return to. No longer is he the skinny, gawky, uncoordinated teenager with too-long arms and bangs in front of his eyes. Now he’s grown into his limbs, developed muscle, and holds his still-narrow shoulders straight and confidently. His thick, damp hair, wavy in places, frames his face rather than obscures it, and his head is carried gracefully by his slender neck. The dimple on his cheek appears when he smiles, which he seems to do more often and more honestly now.

    “I see I won’t be sleeping on the couch,” he comments.

    “We can make him move.”

    “Have you ever tried that? Once he’s out, he’s out. I can sleep on the floor.”

    “Wanna sleep with me?”

    “You mean - in bed with you?”

    “Yeah. It’s cold in my room. Thin blankets.”

    “Um, that’s okay.” He blushes furiously. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

    “You won’t.” Standing, you stretch. “You coming or not?”

    He hesitates, scratching his head and averting his eyes, so you step over to him and kiss him full on the mouth. Your thumbs hook his waistband, and you finish with a kiss on his dimple.

    “You got tall, Winchester. That growth spurt hit all of you?”

    An hour later, Sam’s fingers card your hair, and your t-shirt is bunched and twisted around your waist. His own lies at the foot of the bed where you tossed it earlier. Lazily, he kisses your ear and sighs contentedly.

    “I heard about your dad,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

    “He was a dick. I’m over it.”

    “Heard anything from your mom lately?”

    “Nope.”

    “I figured she’d at least try to call you or something.”

    “Are we gonna talk about my family life all night?”

    “I’m just trying to be sensitive.”

    “There’s nothing worth being sensitive about. Trust me.” Rolling over, you brace yourself above him. “Now, are we gonna go for round two, or are you too tired?”

    He grins and meets your lips halfway, hands finding your waist. Focused on him, you don’t hear the shuffling in the living room, the footsteps drawing near your bedroom, or the door opening. You do startle out of it when Dean chokes on air when he sees what he’s walked into.

    “What the hell is this?”

    “Damn, Dean. A little privacy?” you wipe Sam’s spit from your mouth and sit up. Beneath you, Sam hurriedly grabs for the blankets,

    Dean, eyes wide in disbelief, scoffs and turns to stalk out of the room. You get up and follow him, and Sam scrambles to pull on his pants.

    “Dean, what’s wrong?”

    “What’s wrong?” He wheels on you, angry heat rising to his cheeks. “How the hell can you ask that?”

    “Geez. Maybe because you seem upset?”

    “Let me lay this out for you: I just walked in on you sleeping with my brother.”

    “Yeah? And?”

    “And? And? And you’re with me, (y/n)!” He jabs a finger into his chest. “You’ve been sleeping with me. You just cheated on me!”

    “We’re not in a relationship! There’s nothing to cheat on!”

    “So I mean nothing to you?”

    From behind you, Sam timidly breaks in, “Dean, I had no idea.”

    “Shut up, Sam!” Dean barks, shoulders trembling.

    “I like you, okay?” you say. “I do. You’re just - you’re not everything I want.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    You bite your lip, thinking of an explanation. “It means you’re a halfway. You’re good, but you’re not it.”

    “And that makes it okay to sleep around on me?”

    “Come on, Dean. I know you do the same thing.”

    “No,” he states flatly. “I don’t.”

    “Do you think we’re dating?”

    “I thought you might appreciate my loyalty.” He laughs bitterly. “I guess not.”

    “Dean-”

    “I think I should go.” Turning on his heel, he shoves on his shoes and grabs his car keys from beside the kitchen sink. Moments later, he exits the apartment with a slam of the door. Your ears ring in the sudden silence.

    Sam appears beside you, fully dressed now and carrying his backpack. “I, um, I’m going to leave too,” he says. “It was nice seeing you again.”

    He offers a small smile, and then he’s gone too. From the hallway the brothers’ voices come, first Dean’s harsh one, and then Sam is yelling right back at him, and then you hear your next door neighbors shouting for them to keep it down. They fade as they get farther away. Soon they’re gone altogether.

    Adjusting your shirt - Dean’s, you remember - you return to your room, curl up in bed, and sleep until morning.

* * * * *

    You are twenty-nine and hightailing it out of the suburbs where you just torched a mother changeling. Your apartment and your job have been things of the past for almost eight years. After that episode with the Winchesters, domestic living lost its appeal, so you turned to hunting as an alternative. Growing up, your family, mostly your parents and a few extended relatives, hunted, but you were spared the hassle of moving around all the time. You didn’t really do much actual hunting after that one job with Dean as a teenager, but you’ve since learned that all the travelling is quite freeing. It reminds you of what you planned as a kid - running away to see the sights and never following anybody’s rules. You’ve been to Vegas, to the Grand Canyon, to the Everglades, always hunting but making time for pleasure when you can.

    There are a number of men who have been left waiting for a girl who will never show, not after the first night. You never explicitly say that they’ll see you again, but you don’t say they won’t, either. They’re halfways, all of them, a good time and nothing more. Permanence is something you shy away from; it holds you back and ruins the freedom you’ve only recently found.

    Speeding away from the ashes of the monster, you wipe soot from your face with a wet wipe. You drive for hours until you find an exit leading to a fairly populated corner of some random town, bypassing the strip club and making your way to a rundown little bar with a sign that only partially lights up. There’s an empty parking spot near the door, and you pull into it and turn the car off.

    “Scotch, neat,” you tell the bartender, and she fills up a glass with a practiced motion and slides it across the counter to you.

    “Scotch, huh?” comes a man's voice. “Thought you were more of a whiskey girl.”

    Looking over, you see Dean taking the stool beside you. Sam sits on his other side. Both brothers are dressed in the only thing they seem to own: flannel and a pair of worn out jeans. They look cleaner than you can ever remember them being, and they've aged, not only in years but also in their souls. Dean has lost that boyish twinkle in his eye, and Sam looks more tired of the world than he used to.

    “And in Vegas I was a Three M's girl.”

    “Three M's?”

    “Martinis, mojitos, and margaritas.”

    “In one night?”

    “Once or twice.”

    “Agents Weisman and Ferrato, nice to see you again!” The bartender chirps. “What can I get you?”

    “Two beers, sweetheart.” Dean replies.

    “Two beers, on the house.” She sets the bottles on the counter, and as she turns away, Dean flashes her a wink, and she blushes.

    “Oh the house?” You lift one eyebrow. “What'd you do, Agent Weisman?”

    “Broke up a fight. I think one of them was her ex.”

    “Well, she obviously appreciated it.”

    “Believe me, she did.” Smirking, Dean takes a drink.

    “Nice, Dean,” Sam mutters.

    “So, Vegas. How'd you fare?”

    You shrug. “Didn't have a lot of time for just fun, but I did come out ahead.”

    “By how much?”

    “Like ten bucks.”

    “Hey, ten bucks'll get you a decent drink.”

    “That's exactly where it went.”

    Dean laughs and takes another drink of his beer. A couple minutes later, the two of you glance over at Sam to find him speaking to a very pretty girl who's intentions are glaringly obvious. Sam says something to her, politely trying to turn her down, but Dean intervenes.

    “You aren't trying to hurt the nice girl's feelings, are you?” He shrugs apologetically at the woman.

    “No, I'm only-”

    “Sam, if you don't get out of here, I will personally disown you.” With that, Dean presses his car keys into his brother's palm and waves towards the door.

    Finally, with the girl on his arm, Sam leaves the bar carrying his beer bottle. With a proud grin on his face, Dean turns back to the bar and drains the last of his own drink. By now you're on your second scotch and enjoying the warm feeling spreading to your extremities.

    “It's been a while,” Dean says after a long pause.

    “Eight years.” You nod. “How've you been?”

    “Dead, alive, and a number of other things.” He laughs bitterly, gazing at his empty bottle.

    Silently, you down a mouthful of scotch, and then you say what you've been wanting to say for years. “I'm sorry about what I did. I didn't think you'd mind, but if I'd known you would, I wouldn't have done it.”

    Dean shakes his head. “I'm over it.”

    “You sure?”

    “Very. I've got bigger problems, and I've done worse things.”

    “You got a girl someplace?”

    “Unless you count one night stands, no, I don't.”

    So he's still single, and he's still as hot as ever. A shadow of scruff darkens his jaw and lends him a dangerous air. He's like a fine wine. He only gets better with age. What is he now, thirty-three?

    “Alright, I've had enough scotch for one night, and Sam took your car. Want a ride?”

    “Sure.”

    Standing, you leave a bill on the counter for your drinks and let Dean escort you out to the parking lot. The night is a cool one, and goosebumps rise on your exposed arms. You get to your car, and Dean begins to offer to drive, but you cut him off with a kiss. You grab his shirt collar and pull him in, backing him against the car door. He lets out an “mmph” but gets into it half a second later. Just as he does, you pull away, leaving him hanging.

    “You wanna?” you murmur.

    Dean simply nods before taking control of the situation. In what looks like one motion, he unlocks the car and opens the door, and then he eagerly guides you into the backseat where he begins the motions of foreplay he used eight years ago: another kiss, then a path of them across your jaw and down your neck, a mix of tenderness and restraint, while his hands grip your waist. It's when he reaches the neckline of your t-shirt that you take over, pushing him back and straddling his hips and returning his kisses while your own hands work at unbuttoning his shirt.

    “Stop,” he huffs suddenly and grabs one of your wrists.

    “I haven't even gotten one button. How can you be too worked up yet?”

    “Wait, alright? Hold on a second.” Bracing one arm on the headrest, he sits up with you still on his lap. “What am I to you?”

    “And by that you mean . . .?”

    “Am I just a good lay-”

    “You're an amazing lay.” You grin and go in for a kiss.

    Dean pulls away, even puts a hand on your shoulder to hold you off. “What was it you said I was last time? A halfway? Am I still a halfway?”

    You shrug. “Yeah. Why? Is that not okay with you?”

    He sighs and leans his head against the window. “I can't do this again.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I don't want to be used like that again. I don't want invest time into a relationship if my partner isn't there for me as much as for her.” He gets out from under you and gets out of the car, straightening his shirt.

    “Dean, wait.” You follow him into the dark parking lot. “If this is about me sleeping with your brother, I already said I was sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. And I won't do it this time. I won't sleep with other people if you think it's cheating.”

    “That's not the problem.” He purses his lips and looks into space. “You don't want me, not really. You think I'm fun, that I'm useful, but after a while I'll lose my appeal, and you'll move on. You don't want to stay with me any longer than you can hold your breath.”

    You fold your arms across your chest. “I'm sorry I don't want permanence, Dean.”

    “I do.” He jabs a finger into his chest. “Everything else I know goes away, so excuse me for wanting something that'll last a while.”

    “So what do you want me to do? I can't change who I am because you don't like it.”

    “I'm not asking you to.” He licks his lips thoughtfully and hands you your keys. “Maybe I'll see you in a few years, and maybe things will be different, but right now . . .”

    “I get it.” You twirl your keys and turn back to your car.

    “Goodbye, (y/n).”

* * * * *

    You're thirty-four and have left hunting mostly behind you. There are occasions where you get out and do a little hands-on, but it's not as fun as it used to be, and it's a relief to return to your penthouse apartment at the end of the day. When you half-retired, you decided that you deserved to live in a little luxury, and a couple of cons and lies on credit card forms allowed for just that. To keep people from getting suspicious, you pass yourself off as an event planner and even work the occasional gig to really sell it.

    Compared to how it used to be, your life has settled quite a bit. It's steady, predictable, and there's no chance for an adrenaline rush spurred on by torching a changeling. Not two years ago you would have gagged at the thought of living like this, but now you're happy with it. Honestly, it's kind of nice not worrying about dying all the time.

    The event you're planning presently is a retirement dinner party for a CEO of some big company. You don't know anything about him or his company besides their names, and that's as far as you want to care. A perk of being the person running the event is that everyone working for you already mostly knows what to do, so all you have to do is show up and make sure things don't fall into chaos. It's a rather cushy job, and you do have some fun doing it. Because the dinner is tonight, all that's left is some finishing touches – flowers, place settings, sound checks, etc. As soon as everything is in place, you're out of here, and you plan to enjoy a hot bath and a long nap.

    “Mic one isn't working, and mic two has terrible feedback,” an attendant informs you.

    “Okay, well, don't we have more than two microphones?”

    “Yes, ma'am.”

    “So try those and see if they do work. If there's still an issue, go find Evan. He's the sound guy, not me.”

    Nodding, the attendant rushes off to fix the microphones, and you look over the list on the clipboard in your hands. You still have to make sure the hall will be closed off once the party starts. The hotel hosting the event has been pretty good with doing their job, but it can't hurt to double check. Lesser mistakes have been made in better locations. Tucking the clipboard under your arm, you head for the front desk, your heels clicking on the marble floor, and the sound echos in the grand foyer. Staff dressed in red uniforms and white gloves populate the area, attending to incoming guests and doing whatever else it is they have to do.

    “(y/n)!” a new voice echos behind you.

    When you turn, you see a vaguely familiar man striding towards you. It takes you a second to recognize him, and your eyes go wide. It's Dean, but it doesn't look like Dean. This man is too clean, too well-kept to be the man you've known since childhood. Instead of flannel he wears a pale blue button down shirt, and his jeans look brand new. Even his shoes lack scuff marks and crusted dirt. He's clean shaven, his hair has been combed, and as he draws closer a light fragrance floats your way.

    “Dean Winchester, are you wearing perfume?”

    “It's cologne, actually.”

    “Same thing. Come here, you.” Smiling, you pull him in for a hug. Yes, he's wearing perfume, and it smells damn good on him.

    “What you doing here?” he asks when you break apart. “Last place I ever thought I'd see you was in the city.”

    “Last thing I ever thought I'd see you be was presentable,” you tease. “I'm planning a retirement dinner, and later I'm going back to my penthouse for a nice evening in.”

    “Penthouse?” Dean's eyes go wide. “How'd you pull that off?”

    “Not legally.”

    “The job isn't legit either, is it?”

    “Nope.”

    He laughs. “That's the (y/n) I know. So you've settled down now? No more bouncing around, no more Three M's?”

    “Three M's?”

    “Martinis, mojitos, and margaritas. Vegas, remember? The days of your wild youth?”

    “I spent my youth throwing rocks and shooting BB pellets at ducks.”

    “And you never bagged a single one.”

    Everything you've ever done together comes flooding back, especially the most recent encounters. Twice now you've left him – or he's left you might be more accurate – because you didn't want a steady relationship. Impermanence gave you a high like an addictive drug, and you two didn't fit. Living like that was fine back then, it really did make you happy, but things have changed for you. Dean was never bad to you, never did anything but care – even in bed he made sure you got more out of it than he did – but you didn't realize that until you could look back on those times with a different mindset. Now you're ready for something different, something permanent, and here is a man who has been waiting for permanent his whole life. He obviously likes you, and now he's exactly what you want.

    Just as you open your mouth to speak again, a pretty, dark-haired woman appears out of nowhere and stands by his side. She's a little younger than him, maybe younger than you, and she dresses like a girl raised in the wealthy upper class. There isn't a wrinkle or out-of-place hair to be seen, and she practically oozes sophistication and money. Confused, you watch her take his hand and smile up at him.

    “Hey, babe,” she purrs. “Where've you been?”

    “Felicity, this is (y/n). (y/n), Felicity.”

    “Oh! This is (y/n)!” Felicity smiles, showing too-white teeth, and extends her free left hand for you to shake. “Dean's told me all about you!”

    Once you reorient yourself to be able to take her left hand, you shake it a little stiffly, and then you notice the diamond ring on her finger. She notices you noticing and immediately brightens up more than you thought was possible even for her.

    “He proposed last month!” she exclaims.

    “He? You mean Dean?” Your heart leaps into your throat, and your hands shake when she lets go, still flashing her ring.

    “Yes! It was all very romantic. We were at dinner, and suddenly he pulls out a little box, and inside is this ring! I was wondering when he would do it. I mean, we've been together for two years!” She giggles, a girlish tittering noise that makes you cringe. Dean doesn't seem to be bothered by it, but he blushes and sticks his hands in his pockets.

    “Two years, huh?”

    Dean shrugs. “Guess she thought I was worth waiting for.”

    “Ah.” You swallow hard. “So when's the wedding?”

    “Saturday. Rehearsal dinner tonight, bachelor and bachelorette parties tomorrow, and then the big day. Her dad rented out an entire country club for the rehearsal dinner and the reception and then two suites here for the parties.”

    “Wow. Sounds a little fancy. Didn't think you were a big fan of stuff like that.”

    “Oh, Daddy's old money,” Felicity interrupts. “He owns like thirty restaurants and three football teams, and my family's always been really good in business. I have six cousins who are lawyers in the federal government, two of my uncles are in the FBI, and then one of my second cousins is a model who married a celebrity basketball player.”

    “That's . . . nice.”

    “Yeah, we're all proud of cousin Maisie.” Dean hugs her shoulders. “She ain't as good as you though, sweetheart.”

    Felicity giggles again and kisses him. When she slips her hand in his back pocket, you feel the sudden urge to puke all over her designer shoes. With that comes the prickle of tears forming in your eyes. This isn't fair. Dean loves you, not this shallow, spoiled, tittering Daddy's girl who stuffed him into button downs and dress shoes. He can't want this. There's no way he could be happy having a wedding worthy of royalty and then living in a mansion. Yet, you can't bring yourself to say any of this. You're absolutely sure about him, but then there's the chance that you're wrong. What if you called him out, and it turned out that he is truly happy? Wouldn't that be embarrassing.

    Forcing a smile, you clear your throat. “Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a dinner that starts in two hours and a list of things that still need to get done.”

    “We won't keep you then,” says Dean. “Anyway, we gotta make sure those rooms are all set for tomorrow. Call me sometime, yeah?”

    “Yeah.” You nod. “Congratulations, you guys. I'm happy for you. Really.”

    Dean smiles and thanks you, and then you turn away before he can notices the tears brimming in your eyes. Walking away quickly, you head into the dining hall where your staff is bustling to get everything finalized and pass off the clipboard to the first person you see with instructions to take over. You head out a back door, not bothering to hail a taxi but instead walking all the way back to your apartment building, somehow managing to keep it together until the elevator opens to the top floor and you make it into your penthouse.

    The moment you sink down in front of the picture window, you let everything out. Every ounce of anger within you and the hope you had for Dean, now battered and useless, comes pouring out. Your tears fall onto the white carpet, dampening the strings and glistening in the sunlight. For a moment, you try to be happy for Dean and Felicity, you really do, but it's pointless, and you can't feel anything but hatred and jealousy for that spoiled little bitch.

    But didn't he always say he wanted permanence? Isn't that why he never wanted to try again with you? You're the one who missed the opportunity. Dean finally found what he wanted, and there's no reason you shouldn't be happy for him, but it just won't work. It's all your fault. With this burning you up on the inside and hot tears running down your face, you curl up on the floor and drift off into a restless sleep. Meanwhile, somewhere in the city, Dean prepares to marry the girl who can give him what you never would.

[dizzydjc]

What a fantastic week it has been, it has been real action packed as I also went to Legoland last weekend before heading to Edinburgh for three days this past Monday.

So I am no stranger to Edinburgh, I last visited the capital city of bonnie Scotland back in 2014 and before then visited a few times as a kid when I lived just up the road in the county of Fife. I hold some dear memories of these times from my childhood and going to Scotland always feels like going home for me, despite the fact I am not a true Scottish man. In a way though, I do have Scottish heritage as my mum is through and through Scottish and so is her side of the family, so I guess that is why I think of it as home.

Anyway, going off topic there, I visited Edinburgh this week with two good friends of mine, Hannah and Gill who I know from my college days. We still remain good friends to this day and we wanted to get a nice break somewhere to explore a city or place and get away from home. Edinburgh was suggested and because I always will hold a special place in my heart for the city I jumped at the chance to go with them.

We booked flights with EasyJet and also booked a self-catering apartment with two bedrooms in the heart of Edinburgh to stay in. The apartment was a steal and was a bargain, and what a bargain it was as the place was fantastic and we all wanted to call it our home and never leave. The two girls shared the bigger bedroom and I had a bedroom all to myself, along with a very swanky bathroom (with separate bath and shower units) as well as a huge living space with a kitchen in that space too. I was also very impressed with the Nest thermostat which controlled the temperature in the place, the tech nerd inside me was so excited by this!

  One of the bedrooms we stayed in.

On the 1st day, we took an early morning flight to Edinburgh from London Gatwick so that we could use a day up in Edinburgh to cram in more things to do. So, when we got there we took the tram to the centre of Edinburgh and found where our apartment was. We then dumped our suitcases and then headed to the city centre, to explore where we will be staying. We ended up walking up the steep hill to Edinburgh Castle (instead of taking the main road route – goodness knows why) and then paid the extortionate price of £16 to explore the castle. Believe me, as good as the place is, it is definitely not worth a £16 price tag. From there, we decided that we wanted to go on a ghost bus tour around the main sites of Edinburgh and it turned out to be so much fun, especially as my friend got very spooked in a graveyard we stopped at along the way. The ghost bus tour in Edinburgh was so much better than the one I went on in London last year and I would definitely recommend it. After being scared to our heart’s content, we found a bar which is disguised as a barber shop to have a couple of cocktails in. You even have to open a bookcase to get into it, talk about kooky!

Edinburgh Castle is so beautiful but pricey.

After a good nights sleep, it was time for day 2 in the city. We had a lot already booked and planned for this day already. We started off with a nice French breakfast before heading to the Edinburgh Dungeon. This was so much fun and also had a £16 price tag, but it was a price tag that felt like it had so much more value to it. The tour and the rides in the dungeons were so much fun and actually scary, we all had a great time in there. My friend (the same one who got spooked in the graveyard) got accused of being a witch and was about to be hung to death in one scene, but it was OK as of course this is only a tour and luckily we are not in the Middle Ages anymore. We did take the mick out of her for the rest of the day though and I bet she got annoyed with us constantly referring to her as a witch all day, oh well. We then had lunch and then went to a cat café where we had hot chocolate and tea whilst in the company of about 10 cats. They were all so cute and despite a few of them being tired and sleepy, it was great to pet them and have them come sit with you. I made one friend in the form of a sphinx cat called Elodie, who was so cute! Is it wrong that I wanted to try and sneak her out and take her home? The final thing of the day was to visit the Camera Obscura museum right next to Edinburgh Castle, what a great find this is. The place is full of illusions and interactive items that you take part in and it is so interesting as well as fun. I think the funniest thing was the feature that you could see yourself as a baby, a woman, a man, as an elder and also as a chimp. We all had a laugh at our portraits in this way, I actually think I would make a beautiful woman!

The sphinx cat called Elodie

On the third and final day, we didn’t really know what to do with ourselves, but it was weird as we kept walking around and finding unique and weird places to visit. The first of these was the Frankenstein bar and restaurant which is dedicated to all things to do with Frankenstein himself. Our holiday seemed to be horror themed really, as every day we had done things which were all a bit scary in one way or another. Whilst we were eating our lunch here, there was a show where Frankenstein gets up from his slumber and looks at you. Yeah, a bit worrying really as you’re eating your fish and chips. We also found a cool retro sweets shop and a retro dress store where we all dressed up in many costumes and hats throughout the course of history. The 70’s and 80’s dresses were pretty cool to see. We then made our slow approach back to Edinburgh airport where we waited to head home. These were sad times. I don’t think any of us wanted the trip to end as we had so much fun.

We found Greyfriars Bobby on our walk too!

So there you go, that was that really. Here are a few more pictures from our trip which I took with my fantastic Nikon camera. It’s all back to reality tomorrow for me though as I go back to work after a week off, what a week it has been though!

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Thank you for taking the time to read this blog and watch out for more adventures coming soon! Before you go, check out our Edinburgh VLOG which has been recently uploaded to my YouTube channel…

A Trip To Edinburgh What a fantastic week it has been, it has been real action packed as I also went to Legoland last weekend before heading to Edinburgh for three days this past Monday.