[sunday_reveries] Can You Take It All Away?
(For ilove_atallman, by request for the kiss meme. Set somewhere down the line.)
It was the year of questions. It was the year of fog over the vineyard.
The year you started falling. A damaged year.
-Veronica Patterson
She was standing by his car when he stepped out of the diner. Her back was to him. He sighed, then started towards her. She didn’t turn, but he knew she knew he was behind her. He didn’t stop until his body was against hers, and he gently lifted the hair from the back of her neck. His thumb brushed along the skin there, before he leaned in to tuck his face where her neck met her shoulder, and kissed her.
He felt her relax back against him, and she sighed. “You smell like French fries.”
Dean breathed her in slowly, a smirk moving against her neck. “Is it turning you on?”
“No. It’s making me want French fries.”
“You sayin’ I should buy you fries?”
She turned around, her arms dropping against his shoulders. A brow rose as she pressed herself against him. “Up to you. I’ll get them one way or another.”
“Mmhmm.” His hands slid down her back slowly, resting to the small of her back as he pulled her closer. His head dipped and he kissed her neck again, making his way to her earlobe. He felt her leaning into him and he sighed. Sometimes it felt like having her close was the only time he could actually breathe. The only time he could truly be numb from the pain, and think of nothing but the moment.
“Dean?”
His lips had stopped below her ear moments before, and he hadn’t moved otherwise. “Hmm?”
Her fingers came up to brush through his hair slowly. She didn’t have to ask him if he was okay, or anything at all. The simple act was words enough. He pulled up from her neck, nodding, and took a step back. He looked down at her and a hint of a smile - one of those rarities as of late - came to his lips.
“Hey Ruby. How ‘bout we get some French fries?”
She smirked. “Love to.”
“With catsup.”
“Even better,” she said, letting him rest his hand to her back as they walked back in the direction of the diner.
389
It was the year of questions. It was the year of fog over the vineyard.
The year you started falling. A damaged year.
-Veronica Patterson
She was standing by his car when he stepped out of the diner. Her back was to him. He sighed, then started towards her. She didn’t turn, but he knew she knew he was behind her. He didn’t stop until his body was against hers, and he gently lifted the hair from the back of her neck. His thumb brushed along the skin there, before he leaned in to tuck his face where her neck met her shoulder, and kissed her.
He felt her relax back against him, and she sighed. “You smell like French fries.”
Dean breathed her in slowly, a smirk moving against her neck. “Is it turning you on?”
“No. It’s making me want French fries.”
“You sayin’ I should buy you fries?”
She turned around, her arms dropping against his shoulders. A brow rose as she pressed herself against him. “Up to you. I’ll get them one way or another.”
“Mmhmm.” His hands slid down her back slowly, resting to the small of her back as he pulled her closer. His head dipped and he kissed her neck again, making his way to her earlobe. He felt her leaning into him and he sighed. Sometimes it felt like having her close was the only time he could actually breathe. The only time he could truly be numb from the pain, and think of nothing but the moment.
“Dean?”
His lips had stopped below her ear moments before, and he hadn’t moved otherwise. “Hmm?”
Her fingers came up to brush through his hair slowly. She didn’t have to ask him if he was okay, or anything at all. The simple act was words enough. He pulled up from her neck, nodding, and took a step back. He looked down at her and a hint of a smile - one of those rarities as of late - came to his lips.
“Hey Ruby. How ‘bout we get some French fries?”
She smirked. “Love to.”
“With catsup.”
“Even better,” she said, letting him rest his hand to her back as they walked back in the direction of the diner.
389