I'd Still Make Mistakes
Title: I'd Still Make Mistakes (or Five Times Brooke Thought Dean Was a Bad Life Choice and One Time He Proved Her Wrong).
Fandom: Supernatural/One Tree Hill.
Characters: Dean/Brooke.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 1557.
Spoilers: None. I think.
Summary: She’s barely even twenty; she shouldn’t have worry lines slowly carving themselves out on her forehead already.
Author's Note: For dancinpenguins who wanted five times Brooke thought Dean was a bad life choice and one time he proved her wrong.
1.
“What happened?” Brooke gets up so quickly that her chair nearly falls over, her designs forgotten on the table.
“It’s nothing,” Dean says, pulling away as she lifts her hand to his face. “Just hazards of the job.”
Her hand grips his chin, not letting him pull too far away. The fingertips of her other hand brush lightly over the dark bruise on his cheek bone, her eyebrows pulling together in concern. As his eyes watch her face, Brooke tries to hide the fear she can feel creeping up her spine. Even though he’s been doing this for as long as he can remember, she can’t help but worry constantly when he’s gone.
There’s a small part of her that resents him for being a part of this (while her entire being despises the job itself) because she’s constantly living in fear that he won’t be coming back from his latest hunt.
She’s barely even twenty; she shouldn’t have worry lines slowly carving themselves out on her forehead already.
2.
Dean’s in the middle of making a sandwich (turkey and mayo with a few slices of cheddar, no vegetables in sight) when the front door of Brooke’s apartment slams shut. He’s already cautious when she walks into the kitchen but he only cringes - slightly - when she tosses a bra onto the island next to his plate. He keeps his eyes trained on the sandwich, being extra careful with the placement of the top piece of bread as he recognizes the bra out of the corner of his eye.
It’s bright green and too small to even pass as Brooke’s.
“I’ve accepted the fact that you’re not exactly the poster boy for monogamy,” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest, “But could you at least keep your trophies out of my life? I really don’t need your other conquests rubbed in my face.”
3.
“I don’t want you seein’ him.”
Brooke pauses, the towel in her hands only half folded as she turns her head to look at Dean. The expression on her face is full of disbelief, but he doesn’t regret saying it. Even as she drops the towel in the laundry basket and turns to face him, arms crossing defiantly, he doesn’t regret it.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “I don’t like him,” he says as he crosses his arms, mimicking her posture.
“Lucas is one of my best friends, Dean. I’m not just going to cut him out of my life because you don’t like him.”
Dean’s jaw clenches as she turns back to the laundry. She knows exactly why he doesn’t like Lucas, but jealousy over something that’s been over for years isn’t enough to get her to cut ties with him. It’s not even enough for her to entertain the idea. He’s with Peyton now, and all the “I’m the guy for you” memories are just that - memories she’s left behind.
“Why not?”
Brooke sighs and looks back over at him. “Because he means a lot to me.” Dean’s jaw clenches again and Brooke rolls her eyes, “Not in the way that you’re thinking; I’m over Lucas.” She walks over to him, her hand moving to his cheek. “I’m with you, okay? I don’t want him anymore, I want you.”
“Then why do you keep a box of his stuff in your closet?”
She stills completely, her eyes narrowing a little as she stares at him. The silence grows thick between them as she takes a step back, her hand falling from his cheek. “You went through my closet?”
“I was lookin’ for that shirt you took from me last time I was in town-”
“And you just happened to stumble across the box and the lid magically removed itself, right?” Brooke shook her head in disbelief and turned back to the laundry, her movements sharp and full of anger. “That was private, Dean.”
He snorts a little, the sound completely devoid of any humor. As he goes to say something, Brooke holds up a hand to stop him, her eyes focused on the laundry in front of her. “I think you should go,” she says.
He doesn’t even argue, he just turns on his heel and walks out the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
4.
“Brooke, come on. He said he was sorry.”
She cradles the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she picks up a shirt, looking it over. “Did he say that?”
Sam pauses on the other end of the line, and Brooke can hear traffic in the distance. It’s the first time in as long as she can remember that she doesn’t know where the boys are, and it drives her insane. But she doesn’t ask; if she asks, she’ll end up asking what Dean’s doing, how he’s holding up, if he misses her. “Not in so many words,” he sighs.
She shouldn’t be surprised - it’s Dean, after all, and she knows he doesn’t exactly express his feelings - but it stings.
“Then I’m not forgiving him, Sam.” She hangs up before he gets the chance to say anything else.
5.
The first person she thinks to call is Dean. Instead, she dials Sam’s phone number, her hand shaking slightly as she lifts the phone to her ear.
“Samantha’s phone,” Dean’s voice says. He must not have checked the caller I.D. or he wouldn’t sound as upbeat. At least, that’s what Brooke hopes.
“Is Sam there?”
There’s an intake of breath on the other end of the line that Brooke tries to convince herself isn’t surprise, but it’s sharper than normal. It takes a long time before either of them say anything and, when Dean finally speaks, he sounds distracted.
“He’s in the shower.”
“Oh,” she says, trying to keep the shakiness of her voice to a minimum. An awkward silence fills the line again as Brooke tries to decide if she’d rather wait for Sam to call her back, or if she should just tell Dean what’s going on. “There’s something weird happening in town and-”
“We’ll be there in a couple hours,” he cuts her off, not even asking for specifics. She tries to ignore the way her heart seems to swell in her chest.
-----
It’s a regular, run of the mill demon and the exorcism is simple, clean compared to some of their others, but it still has Brooke more shaken up than she’d like to admit. She’s standing near the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself when Dean and Sam finally finish.
She’s known about their actual jobs for a while now, but it’s the first time she’s even been caught in the crosshairs. There’s a bruise already throbbing her on cheek and a bleeding cut on her lip, and when Dean looks over at her, Brooke doesn’t let their eyes lock. She looks down towards the floor, her arms tightening slightly around herself.
He’s in front of her in a few long strides, his hand reaching up to touch her arm. He stops himself before their skin actually connects, though, and just lets his hand hover for a moment before it drops back to his side.
“You okay?”
Brooke laughs bitterly and finally looks up at his face. “What do you think?”
He lets her walk out of the room, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks back at Sam. Words have never really come easily to him, and sex was almost always the way he offered comfort to women, but it wouldn’t work this time. Not with Brooke. So he walks back over to where the body is and helps Sam lift it and carry it out of her apartment.
6.
There’s a light knock on her door and then, when she doesn’t respond, it opens slowly. Brooke doesn’t even lift her head from the pillow it’s resting on; she knows it’s Dean even though she’s on her side with her back to the door, but she doesn’t say anything. Her breathing’s too light for her to be asleep, so Dean steps inside and slowly closes the door.
Brooke’s eyes focus on the window, the moonlight spilling in across her floor. The air seems thicker as neither of them break the silence. After a few long moments, Brooke feels the bed dip slightly as he sits down beside her. Then his fingers brush tentatively over her arm before his hand finally settles near her elbow and he gives her a light squeeze.
When he starts to pull away, Brooke grabs his hand. Neither of them moves for a while and the only sound in the room is their breathing, the steady inhale and exhale that eventually match rhythms. She pulls him arm around her, her eyes still focused on the light on her floor. The bed moves again as he lays down, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist as he pulls her close.
Letting her hand linger on top of his, Brooke turns her head slightly towards him and closes her eyes, their fingers lacing together. His lips brush the skin behind her ear as his thumb catches hers, curling slightly around it.
“You’re safe,” he whispers into her hair and for the first time in a long time, she actually feels like she can believe it.
Fandom: Supernatural/One Tree Hill.
Characters: Dean/Brooke.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 1557.
Spoilers: None. I think.
Summary: She’s barely even twenty; she shouldn’t have worry lines slowly carving themselves out on her forehead already.
Author's Note: For dancinpenguins who wanted five times Brooke thought Dean was a bad life choice and one time he proved her wrong.
1.
“What happened?” Brooke gets up so quickly that her chair nearly falls over, her designs forgotten on the table.
“It’s nothing,” Dean says, pulling away as she lifts her hand to his face. “Just hazards of the job.”
Her hand grips his chin, not letting him pull too far away. The fingertips of her other hand brush lightly over the dark bruise on his cheek bone, her eyebrows pulling together in concern. As his eyes watch her face, Brooke tries to hide the fear she can feel creeping up her spine. Even though he’s been doing this for as long as he can remember, she can’t help but worry constantly when he’s gone.
There’s a small part of her that resents him for being a part of this (while her entire being despises the job itself) because she’s constantly living in fear that he won’t be coming back from his latest hunt.
She’s barely even twenty; she shouldn’t have worry lines slowly carving themselves out on her forehead already.
2.
Dean’s in the middle of making a sandwich (turkey and mayo with a few slices of cheddar, no vegetables in sight) when the front door of Brooke’s apartment slams shut. He’s already cautious when she walks into the kitchen but he only cringes - slightly - when she tosses a bra onto the island next to his plate. He keeps his eyes trained on the sandwich, being extra careful with the placement of the top piece of bread as he recognizes the bra out of the corner of his eye.
It’s bright green and too small to even pass as Brooke’s.
“I’ve accepted the fact that you’re not exactly the poster boy for monogamy,” she says as she crosses her arms over her chest, “But could you at least keep your trophies out of my life? I really don’t need your other conquests rubbed in my face.”
3.
“I don’t want you seein’ him.”
Brooke pauses, the towel in her hands only half folded as she turns her head to look at Dean. The expression on her face is full of disbelief, but he doesn’t regret saying it. Even as she drops the towel in the laundry basket and turns to face him, arms crossing defiantly, he doesn’t regret it.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “I don’t like him,” he says as he crosses his arms, mimicking her posture.
“Lucas is one of my best friends, Dean. I’m not just going to cut him out of my life because you don’t like him.”
Dean’s jaw clenches as she turns back to the laundry. She knows exactly why he doesn’t like Lucas, but jealousy over something that’s been over for years isn’t enough to get her to cut ties with him. It’s not even enough for her to entertain the idea. He’s with Peyton now, and all the “I’m the guy for you” memories are just that - memories she’s left behind.
“Why not?”
Brooke sighs and looks back over at him. “Because he means a lot to me.” Dean’s jaw clenches again and Brooke rolls her eyes, “Not in the way that you’re thinking; I’m over Lucas.” She walks over to him, her hand moving to his cheek. “I’m with you, okay? I don’t want him anymore, I want you.”
“Then why do you keep a box of his stuff in your closet?”
She stills completely, her eyes narrowing a little as she stares at him. The silence grows thick between them as she takes a step back, her hand falling from his cheek. “You went through my closet?”
“I was lookin’ for that shirt you took from me last time I was in town-”
“And you just happened to stumble across the box and the lid magically removed itself, right?” Brooke shook her head in disbelief and turned back to the laundry, her movements sharp and full of anger. “That was private, Dean.”
He snorts a little, the sound completely devoid of any humor. As he goes to say something, Brooke holds up a hand to stop him, her eyes focused on the laundry in front of her. “I think you should go,” she says.
He doesn’t even argue, he just turns on his heel and walks out the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
4.
“Brooke, come on. He said he was sorry.”
She cradles the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she picks up a shirt, looking it over. “Did he say that?”
Sam pauses on the other end of the line, and Brooke can hear traffic in the distance. It’s the first time in as long as she can remember that she doesn’t know where the boys are, and it drives her insane. But she doesn’t ask; if she asks, she’ll end up asking what Dean’s doing, how he’s holding up, if he misses her. “Not in so many words,” he sighs.
She shouldn’t be surprised - it’s Dean, after all, and she knows he doesn’t exactly express his feelings - but it stings.
“Then I’m not forgiving him, Sam.” She hangs up before he gets the chance to say anything else.
5.
The first person she thinks to call is Dean. Instead, she dials Sam’s phone number, her hand shaking slightly as she lifts the phone to her ear.
“Samantha’s phone,” Dean’s voice says. He must not have checked the caller I.D. or he wouldn’t sound as upbeat. At least, that’s what Brooke hopes.
“Is Sam there?”
There’s an intake of breath on the other end of the line that Brooke tries to convince herself isn’t surprise, but it’s sharper than normal. It takes a long time before either of them say anything and, when Dean finally speaks, he sounds distracted.
“He’s in the shower.”
“Oh,” she says, trying to keep the shakiness of her voice to a minimum. An awkward silence fills the line again as Brooke tries to decide if she’d rather wait for Sam to call her back, or if she should just tell Dean what’s going on. “There’s something weird happening in town and-”
“We’ll be there in a couple hours,” he cuts her off, not even asking for specifics. She tries to ignore the way her heart seems to swell in her chest.
-----
It’s a regular, run of the mill demon and the exorcism is simple, clean compared to some of their others, but it still has Brooke more shaken up than she’d like to admit. She’s standing near the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself when Dean and Sam finally finish.
She’s known about their actual jobs for a while now, but it’s the first time she’s even been caught in the crosshairs. There’s a bruise already throbbing her on cheek and a bleeding cut on her lip, and when Dean looks over at her, Brooke doesn’t let their eyes lock. She looks down towards the floor, her arms tightening slightly around herself.
He’s in front of her in a few long strides, his hand reaching up to touch her arm. He stops himself before their skin actually connects, though, and just lets his hand hover for a moment before it drops back to his side.
“You okay?”
Brooke laughs bitterly and finally looks up at his face. “What do you think?”
He lets her walk out of the room, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks back at Sam. Words have never really come easily to him, and sex was almost always the way he offered comfort to women, but it wouldn’t work this time. Not with Brooke. So he walks back over to where the body is and helps Sam lift it and carry it out of her apartment.
6.
There’s a light knock on her door and then, when she doesn’t respond, it opens slowly. Brooke doesn’t even lift her head from the pillow it’s resting on; she knows it’s Dean even though she’s on her side with her back to the door, but she doesn’t say anything. Her breathing’s too light for her to be asleep, so Dean steps inside and slowly closes the door.
Brooke’s eyes focus on the window, the moonlight spilling in across her floor. The air seems thicker as neither of them break the silence. After a few long moments, Brooke feels the bed dip slightly as he sits down beside her. Then his fingers brush tentatively over her arm before his hand finally settles near her elbow and he gives her a light squeeze.
When he starts to pull away, Brooke grabs his hand. Neither of them moves for a while and the only sound in the room is their breathing, the steady inhale and exhale that eventually match rhythms. She pulls him arm around her, her eyes still focused on the light on her floor. The bed moves again as he lays down, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist as he pulls her close.
Letting her hand linger on top of his, Brooke turns her head slightly towards him and closes her eyes, their fingers lacing together. His lips brush the skin behind her ear as his thumb catches hers, curling slightly around it.
“You’re safe,” he whispers into her hair and for the first time in a long time, she actually feels like she can believe it.