#she occupies a very special space in my brain with her 5 minutes of screen time that has hundreds of guards

[hercarisntyours]

ariel from the transformers season 2 episode 44 war dawn, 1985

[from-a-reckless-writer]

here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure. 

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met. 

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics? 

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet. 

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home. 

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death. 

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate. 

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right? 

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?” 

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really. 

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location. 

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.” 

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here. 

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes. 

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her. 

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain. 

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain. 

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life. 

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around. 

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately. 

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side. 

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back. 

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations. 

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes. 

She thinks she’s still being subtle. 

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t. 

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips. 

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside. 

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out. 

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth. 

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes. 

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there. 

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it. 

And it’s not even supposed to be for her. 

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite. 

There’s really no use hiding anything now though. 

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy. 

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity. 

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking. 

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That’s the one. She’s the one. 

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home. 

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is. 

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything. 

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did. 

A conclusion was easily reached. 

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s. 

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem. 

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers. 

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then— 

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet. 

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch. 

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do. 

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there. 

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute. 

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning. 

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault. 

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change. 

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do. 

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give. 

But Lena didn’t want things that way. 

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her. 

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.” 

She makes Kara leave. 

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake. 

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office. 

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again. 

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known. 

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate. 

She was falling in love. 

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that. 

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs. 

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way. 

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara? 

There was no word for that. 

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly. 

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out. 

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today. 

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain. 

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena. 

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara. 

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her. 

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly. 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 5)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. No idea how long it will be, but I’ve got time on my hands. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle. I’m thinking it will go the fluffy route, with some angst, and maybe some smut down the line. Not sure yet.

Section Word Count:  3,000

Section Warnings: fluff, angst, some R-rated language, Dean flirting/arousing/eating/breathing - the man needs his own warning label

~~~~~

Julie had done some reconnaissance before heading out her front door. She stared at Wes and Samuel’s backyard for some minutes prior. There was no sign of them. Samuel’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway. She figured she had a few minutes to take the walk around and past their corner house in safety. They wouldn’t assault her with questions about where she was off to, taking a stroll she never took in her neighborhood. And they wouldn’t ask what she had in that box she was holding so carefully.

This can’t end well, can it? Her thoughts of Dean were confused and irrational. She was going by pure feeling. And that hadn’t always proved the best course of action.

He’s too fucking gorgeous and too much of a flirt. Guys like that will usually sleep with anyone that tug at the bait. Her father had been that way. Handsome. Could have had his pick of any woman he wanted. And even though he’d one hell of a wife in her mother, he insisted on rutting with anything that came sniffing. Mom had finally had enough twenty years ago and divorced him. She would have taken him for everything she could, if he’d anything worth taking.

And, here she was, having just gone through an eerily similar situation with her now ex-husband… walking up the incline to Dean Winchester’s front door.

Maybe it’s genetic? I could blame this very bad idea on that. Tonight, that’s what I’ll do. She glanced around the side of the house she never saw up close. The cream-colored siding could use a power washing, but the front lawn was neat and tidy. Just like his backyard. There was no landscaping to speak of and the concrete driveway had seen better days. 

His Impala, seated on her throne yards away from the door, demanded the spotlight. The slick black paint shone more than usual. Julie wondered if he’d taken her through a car wash that day. Or maybe he’d washed her himself. Then, she thought about Dean wet and soapy, rubbing his body all over that car, hosing her down. Hose me down, Jesus. Her brain short circuited for a second.

I could turn around and head back. It’s not too late. I could just leave it on the step and text him when I get back home. The sky was turning a dusty pink with purple ribbons. 

No doorbell. The berry red front door teased and tested the outreached fingers of one hand as she balanced the dessert in the other.

She pulled her hand back. Eyes closed. Head tilted. There was a split second where she’d decided to leave. An immediate flash in her thoughts of Dean’s smiling face, those green eyes, those lips, overpowered her senses. She opened her eyes to the sound of her betraying knuckles as they rapped on the door.

You are not desperate. You are going after something you want.

She waited. Some time went by. An awkward amount of time.

Maybe it wasn’t loud enough. Maybe he’s in the shower. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe this really was a bad idea. Oh God, what if he has a woman over?

She turned and darted down the small landing and got halfway across the walkway when she heard him. “Julie?”

She pressed her lids together in embarrassment, took a quick breath, and prepared to face the music that was Dean Winchester.

Damn. He was even more tempting than the last time she’d seen him. Surprise overtook his exquisite features. A blank expression gazed at her, open and waiting. His lips parted. Grey sweatpants and a cadet blue Henley draped over his frame. But fabric still hugged taut muscles and beautiful curves. She tried to regain her focus and stared at the ground by his... Shit, and he’s barefoot. Even his feet are fucking perfect. His toes wiggled on the concrete. Just take me now, Dean. She sighed and, realizing no part of him would be unattractive or neutral territory, returned his inspection.

“Is everything okay?” He looked past her onto the street and did a quick survey of the area around him. She nodded. His brow furrowed and then his gaze landed on the box in her hands.

“I made a cake.” Her arms outstretched. It was the only motion she could think to make at the time. “Thought you might want a piece.”

“Oh.” A small smile danced over his mouth in a wave.

She retracted the box back to her chest. “I should have called first. Sorry.”

“No. It’s more than fine. I just…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve such special treatment.”

Have you looked at yourself? “Kind of selfishness on my part.”

He gave her that quizzical look again.

“Want to see how much you enjoy my dessert, up close and personal.” She quipped.

He licked his lips on instinct. “You’re giving me lots of opportunities to not behave myself with this mouth o’ mine.”

Jesus. “Is that a preemptive apology, or a promise?” She couldn’t help it. He brought out the flirt in her, full on. Her reaction was like a runaway train with no conductor at the controls.

His laugh was deep, sexy. “Come on in. I won’t apologize for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” He nudged the front door open with a bare foot and stuffed his hands into hidden pockets. A step back cleared the threshold.

She walked towards him. When she got closer to his figure, she had to look up to meet his gaze. Almost a foot taller, his presence made her feel small and vulnerable. The grin didn’t help to calm the sensations. He uses Irish Spring soap. She wiggled her nose at the clean, fresh out of the shower scent his skin exuded.

The house wasn’t much on the inside in terms of construction. But it possessed a style somewhere between mountain man and perpetual bachelor. All Dean. Dark paneled wood confirmed a 70s architectural build that had never been updated. The open living room and kitchen area felt smaller than it was because of the dim lighting. She squinted through her glasses. A floor lamp was on and near a muted, flat screen television atop a console table. Something was blowing up on the screen, flashing and illuminating the lived-in space. She stepped in farther. Her flats skimmed off a small area rug to tap onto wood laminate. Stale beer and spicy alcohol permeated the stagnant air in the room. She wondered again how much he drank on a regular basis. The front door click froze her in place.

He appeared at her side. “Let me.” His eager open hands waited. The box dropped into them. “Whoa. Heavy. What’d you make?” He strolled over to the breakfast bar along the edge of the kitchen. The broad shoulders got her all swoony. Bowlegs weren’t as obvious in the baggy sweatpants. The curvy ass, however, was quite prominent. He waited for an answer with an expectant look after placing the dessert on the counter.

“Oh. Just a white cake with chocolate frosting. Um, have you ever had a Tastykake Chocolate Junior?”

“More than likely.” He shrugged. “Convenience store grub was sustenance for many, many years.”

She filed that bit of information away for future dissection. “It’s a pretty spot on flavor recreation. They were my favorite growing up.”

“Should I slice it up then? See if it jogs my memory?”

She smiled. “That’s why I’m here.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Make yourself comfortable.” He pointed to the living room. “Move whatever you need to.”

Even the couch is covered in plaid. An open bag of chips occupied a spot where she guessed he’d been sitting. A couple beer bottles were on the coffee table. Again.

She debated on whether to sit on the armchair or the tiny lumberjack couch. There were some books and papers on the chair. She plopped on the empty side of the two-seater. The chips were placed on the table after a careful bag fold over. 

Her body shifted, ancy and excited. Should she do the relaxed, one leg folded under the other? How far of a tilt in his general direction? Had she dressed up too much? She tugged at the low-neck paisley peasant top she’d thrown on with her dark jeans. A finger wiped at the corner of her mouth, reminding her of the shiny gloss applied before she left the house. A faint cherry flavor hit the tip of her tongue.

Her gaze wandered back to him while she continued her inner debate on the best position. He’d gotten out plates and rested a rather long knife on the counter. His fingers lifted the box lid. “Oh, man,” he mumbled to himself. He reached in and pulled out the cake, his focus never leaving the treat. Her eyes widened when he grabbed the knife and flipped it in his hands like a skilled warrior. The blade slid into the cake without hesitation. He repeated the action three more times and then served the slices. His brow lifted and he looked over to Julie. “A cake like this deserves milk, but I’m fresh out. Water do? Beer?”

“Um, water’s good.” She was still getting over the display he’d put on.

He nodded, grabbing two bottles from the fridge and wedging them between his arm and side. He strolled over with a plate in each hand and offered one to Julie. The waters dropped on the table.

“Wow. You don’t play around.” She laughed at the enormous pieces he’d doled out.

“I do not… at least when it comes to dessert.” He settled into the seat beside her, thighs splayed out, encroaching into her territory. He pointed at Julie with the tines of his fork. “And, if you can’t finish yours, I will.” He leaned back and brought the plate to perch at his midsection.

She scooted back, deciding a cross legged approach would have to do to avoid brushing against him. The cake plate rested on her lap. Her gaze traced his body from his very close knee all the way back to his face. “You don’t even know if you’ll like it yet.”

He scoffed. “Please.” His grin turned playful. Yes, I could definitely stare at this man for an indefinite amount of time. “Ready?” He inquired with a side glance.

Her cheeks rose along with the wide smile she returned him. “Ready.”

He cleared his throat in deference to the upcoming act. Julie pursed her lips together. His fork sank into the dessert. “I’ve got to get a decent amount of both cake and frosting for this to be a fair sample to judge.” He nodded and tilted the forkful in inspection. His jaw dropped like a nutcracker. He shoveled the mound of cake into his mouth and chewed. Eyes shut as the chews continued. There were no audible cues expressing enjoyment this time, compared to the meal they shared on the patio. The silence was gut wrenching, but Dean’s physical actions were making Julie’s mouth water. She wanted to dive on top of him and latch lips onto that pout. The man was legit dampening her panties. She squirmed in her cross-legged position.

His eyes bolted open and he swallowed. Dean cocked his head at her. “That… is… amazing.”

She stifled a giggle rising in her throat. “Yeah? Not just saying that cause I’m right here?”

His brow dipped down, looking a bit pained in his expression. “I’m a straight shooter.”

I bet.

He attacked the cake again. Julie tried it for herself to see if he was right. She nodded at her handiwork when the smooth chocolate frosting melted in her mouth. It hadn’t gotten grainy from over whipping.

“Thanks.” Dean came up for air after a single piece remained on his plate.

“Welcome.”

“So, is this your interrogation tactic? Getting me into a sugary-stupor so I answer all your burning questions?” He grinned at her.

She stopped in mid-chew and swallowed.

“Cause it’s a pretty good play.” His eyelids looked heavy as he finished the last piece. He tossed the plate onto the table and grabbed one of the beer bottles. He went with the one leg folded under the other position this time and shifted at her, full tilt.

She cleared her throat, feeling the heat of his gaze. A long swig of beer and smack of his lips warmed her cheeks. “I was just being neighborly.” She lifted a shoulder.

“Hm.” White light from the television danced over his face. His stare seemed chiseled out of marble in the strobing spotlight. “Coming over unannounced. And, considering you didn’t want me in your house… why’d you think I’d invite you in?” His jaw clenched after the question.

Shit. “I had cake.” It was half statement, half question.

“Secret weapon aside,” he mumbled, “chocolate frosting wouldn’t protect you from… well, you don’t know anything about me.” His eyes drew her in further, danger and searing intensity illuminated with each flash. 

“I’d like to know you,” she whispered back without thinking, inwardly cursing at the admission.

He gave her a small smile. “Might not like what you find. I’m much better if you take me in small doses.” His hand lifted. A flat palm, dangling the bottleneck between two fingers, slid in the air. “Deal with what’s on the surface. Digging deeper is usually a disappointment.” He drank again, then thumbed the bottle opening.

She sighed. “Well, I guess we just do the good neighbor thing and keep things civil, distant.”

He nodded. “Would be for the best.”

She dropped the plate onto the table. “Should I go then?”

He shook his head. “I like your company. Almost as sweet as that cake.”

“That’s all surface stuff.” She tested.

“Is it now?” He leaned in a little closer. His arm draped over the seat back. “Just proving my point.” A grin.

Julie held his gaze and inhaled. “Spill with some surface stuff, then. To appease my curiosity.”

“Okay.” The word dripped out of his mouth, slow, like honey. “I’m 43.” He waited.

Julie smiled. “Are you expecting me to tell you how old I am?”

“I’m not stupid enough to guess.”

Her hand wiggled a finger in the air. “Point for you.” But she chose not to answer.

The triumphant, pleased with himself smile returned. “Moved here a couple years back. Used to work with my brother. Now, I take care of business solo.”

She nodded. “I won’t ask what kind of business.”

“Thanks. That wouldn’t be a simple explanation.” Another sip of beer. “Uh,” he cleared his throat in thought, “I listen to classic rock… nothing else is real music, anyway.” He caught the rise of her eyebrow. “In my opinion, of course. Been all over the country. Driven through almost every state, even Alaska. I hate flying. Oh, and I love my Baby.”

“Your baby?” Her heart stopped.

“My car.” He clarified. A hint of nostalgia passed over his face. “Been to hell and back in her. She belonged to my Dad.”

“She’s a beauty. You take good care of her.” Julie didn’t push for more, marveling at the little chips in his exterior.

“Family’s important to you?” Dean asked.

It made her pause. “The ones that matter are. The ones that don’t give up on you, even when it would be easier to. Those people are important to me. Those are the ones I’m loyal to.”

The smile he produced held an air of… it took her a few seconds to identify it. Respect. 

“Thing is,” Dean whispered, “I think you’re a decent woman. And I consider myself a good judge of character.” His eyes peeked down to her chest for a brief instant. “And, if I do what I want to right now… well, that might make the whole neighbor thing awkward. I can be an ass,” he licked his lips, “after.”

“After what?” Nervous energy caused her fingers to fiddle with her eyeglasses.

His knees brushed against her thigh. Warm fingers skimmed up her forearm. Her breath hitched. His hand traveled up over her shoulder and swept the ends of her brown hair to rest on her back. A thumb dipped into the hollow past her clavicle. He skirted under the collar of her shirt, not asking permission. Not needing to. The thick pads of his fingers massaged the skin. His eyes never left her face. “After.” He repeated.  

Charges of electricity pulsed and awakened the cells in her body. Thighs squeezed together while her mouth opened, struggling to make heads or tails of what would be the best course of action. “Being an ass would mean no more dessert.”

He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “It would.” His fingers retreated from her skin. “Shouldn’t risk it, then.”

They sat in silence for a minute, the moment gone and the space now awkward. Once she felt her heart rate return to a normal beat, she clapped her hands softly on her knees. “Well, I’m going to go. Keep the cake.” She rose. “Figure out how much you want to keep.” She stared down at the confused look on his face. “And bring me the rest tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“When you come by to mow my lawn.”

He smiled. “Still want me to?”

“Of course.”

“Okay then.” Even though she hurried, expecting to beat him to the door, he managed to get there first again. “Still wanna get to know me?”

She nodded. “I’ve got lots of time.”

He sighed. “I might not be that patient.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy. For either of us.” She let herself out and stepped into the dusk.

“Julie.” He called out. She turned to take in that perfect figure in the doorway. “Let me walk you back.”

“I’m just around the corner.”

“Just let me.” He raised a finger, dashing away for a few seconds, and returned wearing slippers. A quick lock of the door and he slid down the walk to join her.

She shook her head in protest. “You really don’t have to.”

“Too late.” He slowed his pace and strolled with her in the night. The neighborhood only had a few streetlights scattered throughout. They were flickering in that fickle in between before true night enveloped the area. Their short walk was in the shadows of trees and Wes and Samuel’s house.

“Who’s going to walk you back?” she quipped.

“I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t see his face well but sensed a smirk. His slippers shuffled on the asphalt.

When they rounded the corner and her house was in sight, she raised a hand. “There. You can watch me from here.”

“Uh-uh. To the door.” He trudged up the hill.

“You’re quite chivalrous for an apparent ass.”

He chuckled. “I do try sometimes.”

The rest of the walk was in silence, side by side, until Julie took the lead up the narrow concrete path. She bounced up the two steps to the square slab that was her tiny porchway and turned back. It was quick enough to catch that he’d been admiring her ass as he stood on the path by the bottom step.

She was thankful he couldn’t see the blush she felt creeping up on her cheeks. “Well, good deed done.”

His hands plunged into his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded. And waited.

She sighed and pulled out the key to unlock her door. “Are you worried I’m going to get attacked by a monster hiding in the bushes?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

The door acquiesced and Julie stepped inside. “Satisfied.”

“I will be when you lock the door behind you.”

She shook her head and whispered through the narrowing gap. “Night, Dean.”

“Good Night, Julie.”

Part 6

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