it ain't hard to define

Text: Sapphire ⤿ Dean

Dean swept into the room and dropped to his knees in front of her and god how she'd missed him. More than she'd realised. Here he was, on his knees, apologising to her. It almost didn't feel real.

He had been ready to grovel at her feet. All the way here, Dean had played this out in his head, with everything he had wanted to say looping around in his mind. Different scenarios–mostly of her yelling or ignoring him–each with their own version of his apology, but not once had he considered the possibility that she would forgive him immediately.

cupid’s match ˚₊ · »-♡→ dean

When Dean was handed the key and the note, he couldn't have moved faster to that hotel room. The thing his match loved was 'tattoos', but under the scribble, he could just about make out his own name in a familiar script. Who else would have written his name down? It might have been aggressively scored out, but the fact that he had been her first thought gave him hope; maybe he really could fix this.

Sapphire barely held back a snort of laughter as she watched Dean try to navigate Ms Fitzherbert. The woman practically bristled at his words, huffing and puffing her way out at his absolute rudeness! "Wow. That was actually painful to watch," she smirked, holding back another laugh by taking a drink. "Don't take this the wrong way, Deano... What are you wearing?"

"Oh? So painful that you couldn't help a guy out? I'll remember this Vandervort." Dean shook his head, looking absolutely livid, but anyone who knew him would know that he was playing it up to hide his amusement. "What do you mean?" He looked down at himself, arms held out to indicate himself. "Are you saying double denim isn't the height of 1800's French fashion?"

Nate had almost walked straight into Ms Fitzherbert and totally interrupted whatever she was about to say to Dean Dawson. One look at Nate, though, and she was turning up her nose. No, literally. She might as well have called Nate 'trash' right there and then, the look she was giving him. Thankfully, she opted to leave instead. It took longer for Nate to realise what he'd overheard. Rose. A guilty feeling started to churn in his gut again. He thought about Rose, now, and how Gossip Girl had used him to put a wedge between her and Tessa. And how he'd agreed to save his own relationships. He'd stayed quiet for too long now, and he desperately willed his brain to say something - anything!

Dean didn't miss the look that Ms. Fitzherbert shot Nate and his eyebrow raised. As much as he liked to convince himself that he didn't care about the scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite, that was interesting. Wasn't he supposed to be the golden boy of the Upper East Side? But before he could comment on it, he said that. Dean stared at him, eyes narrowed because he couldn't possibly be being serious. "Did you become a complete fucking moron for New Year?"

Juliette couldn't help but laugh as she saw Dean dealing with Ms. Fitzherbert, his own fault for talking to her; everyone knew to avoid her if they had something to do.

"Damn it..." Dean mumbled defeatedly, wholeheartedly having hoped he wouldn't have to spend any length of time at this event. "Thanks for–..." He waved a hand in the general direction of Ms. Fitzherbert's retreating silhouette, but found that he was now stuck in yet another social interaction that he hadn't anticipated. "I wouldn't be surprised if she was avoiding me."

"I see you're still making friends wherever you go," Jesse greeted with a smile. Ms Fitzherbert seemed somewhat deflated in whatever retort was on the tip of her tongue. She'd always thought Jesse was a 'lovely young man'. When she made her leave, Jesse turned back to face dean, raising a brow at him.

Dean shot his best friend a look of exasperation as he saved him from that horrendous woman. He knew better than to get cornered by her, but he hadn't paid attention to who he was asking and she had taken him off guard. When he was pulled into a hug, though, the tension left Dean's body almost immediately–he even hugged Jesse back. "Hey, man. I think I've really fucked up this time."

"Ms. Fitzherbert, how nice to see you. I believe that waiter over there has some fresh shrimp puffs." Jason said, pointing to a waiter on the far side of the room and watching as she predicatably scurried off to investigate. "Looking for Rose?" He asked. "I saw her by the bar a few minutes ago." the less than up to date information probably wouldn't help much, but he wanted to see his brothers friend get the girl. A miracle like that might just make him believe in love again.

Dean's jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists when Jason interrupted and sent Ms. Fitzherbert on her way. Was he actually going to raise those fists? No, absolutely not. Did he think about it? Well... "Yeah." He sighed, looking towards the bar when he gave him the info. Of course, he couldn't see her. "Thanks. Maybe if I just stand over there, she'll appear when her drink runs out." He ran a hand through his hair, still looking around the room. "You here with someone?" Maybe Jason was having better luck than him.

｡.｡:∞♡*♥ break my soul in two looking for you ♥*♡∞:｡.｡

Rose almost couldn't believe it, finally she would get to talk to Dean.

After getting Rose to agree to speak with him, Dean snuck his way through the party, hoping that if they went separately people would keep their eyes and opinions to themselves. It was unfortunate that he now seemed to find himself pacing in Logan Hunter's bedroom, but it seemed as private a location as any to have this conversation with Rose.

Louisa was thinking about one thing, and one thing only and that was having fun. So she grabbed the first person she saw and said: "You seem like a fun person - wanna have some fun with me?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at the girl when she grabbed him. "Fun? Is that the vibe I'm giving off?" He looked at himself in the wall mirror across the hall, "I knew this jacket was too much." In one swift movement, he had shrugged the offending item of clothing off his shoulders and dropped it in the nearest trash can.