Quietly Yours {Dean Di Laurentis x mute!reader} Part 25
Summary: Everyone at Briar knows Dean Di Laurentis. Nobody knows you. Not because you aren't friendly, but because people tend to make assumptions the moment they realize you don't speak. Some think you're shy. Others think you're rude. A few even assume you're deaf. You're used to correcting people with a tired smile and a note on your phone. Dean is no different...at first. Until he realizes your silence never stopped you from laughing, teasing, arguing, or caring. He starts discovering that you've always had a voice. It just isn't spoken.
Warnings: mentions of being mute, misunderstandings
Dean returned to hockey practice eight days after the concussion.
You found out because he sent you a photograph at six-thirty in the morning.
You stared at the message from beneath your blankets.
The typing bubble appeared instantly.
Dean: ME. THE ANSWER IS ME.
You laughed silently into your pillow.
Your roommate groaned from the other side of the room.
"Tell your boyfriend it's too early."
You: My roommate says you're annoying.
Dean: Your roommate loves me.
You glanced across the room.
She had pulled the blanket over her head.
You: She says she hates you.
Then another message arrived.
Your smile faded slightly.
There wouldn't be hundreds of people.
No player coming from Dean's blind side—
The trainers wouldn't let him back onto the ice if they weren't confident it was safe.
Your body hadn't quite caught up.
Your phone vibrated again.
Dean: No pressure. Just asking.
You stared at that message for a moment.
You: I'll come after class.
His reply was a photograph of Garrett in the background giving the camera the middle finger.
A faint little sound escaped with it.
And carried on with your morning.
That was becoming easier.
Dean was already on the ice when you entered the rink that afternoon.
There were maybe fifteen people in the stands. A few students studying between classes, two girlfriends of other players, someone you vaguely recognised from the athletics department.
For a hockey rink, anyway.
Dean didn't notice you immediately.
You liked watching him before he knew you were there.
There was something different about Dean when nobody was paying attention to him.
He listened when Coach spoke. Concentrated when drills started. Encouraged younger players when they made mistakes.
He still talked constantly.
But this Dean wasn't the campus playboy everyone thought they knew.
Your chest warmed at the thought.
Then Garrett spotted you.
He said something to Dean.
Dean's head turned so quickly you nearly laughed.
Dean skated towards the boards.
He stopped on the other side of the glass.
Dean understood immediately.
You looked towards Garrett.
Garrett gave you a thumbs-up from several feet away.
"You trust him more than me?"
Dean glanced over his shoulder.
He pressed his glove to the glass.
You put your palm against it.
Your hand remained against the glass for a second longer.
Dean took his first proper hit twenty minutes later.
It wasn't particularly hard.
A normal check during a drill.
Nothing remotely close to the hit that had given him the concussion.
The moment another player's shoulder connected with him, something dropped through your stomach.
Your fingers tightened around the edge of the seat.
Even in the middle of practice, he had somehow noticed.
You could see the question forming.
You leaned back against the seat.
A strange pride settled in your chest.
Not because you hadn't been frightened.
Because being frightened hadn't controlled what happened next.
Practice ended an hour later.
You waited outside the locker room while the players showered and changed.
A few students passed you.
Then two girls walked down the hallway.
Your stomach tightened automatically.
She noticed you at almost exactly the same time.
For a second, both of you considered pretending you hadn't.
The other girl looked between you.
Sophie glanced towards the locker-room door.
Her friend smiled slightly.
"So the rumours were true."
You reached for your phone.
Sophie looked uncomfortable.
Her friend didn't seem to notice.
"I honestly thought it was another one of his things."
Your expression hardened.
"I'm not saying anything bad."
She looked towards you again.
Sophie closed her eyes briefly.
"Everyone knows what he's like."
Because the locker-room door opened behind them.
His hair was wet, hockey bag over one shoulder.
"We were just talking about you."
"That's usually dangerous."
Emily seemed determined to make the situation worse.
"I was telling her I didn't think you actually did girlfriends."
That should have been the end of it.
"You're actually together?"
Something about the surprise in her voice made heat crawl beneath your skin.
Her eyes flickered towards you.
"It doesn't exactly seem like your type."
Sophie whispered, "Jesus Christ."
Dean went completely still.
You'd seen it before games when another player said something intended to provoke him.
"What exactly is my type?"
Emily's confidence faltered.
Sophie grabbed Emily's sleeve.
Emily finally allowed herself to be dragged away.
Sophie stopped after several steps.
Then they disappeared around the corner.
Dean dropped his hockey bag to the floor.
But his jaw remained tight.
Dean stared at the screen.
"Because I'm tired of people talking about you like you're some weird choice I made."
Your expression softened.
He rubbed a hand through his wet hair.
"And I'm tired of people acting like dating me means you're waiting for me to get bored."
"Sophie's still in your head."
"You're exactly my type."
Dean gently caught your hand.
"And completely unimpressed by me."
"Which is apparently what I needed."
Your ego needed character development.
Then again because apparently once wasn't enough.
When he pulled back, he picked his bag up.
You started walking beside him.
"You're coming to the house, right?"
"Good. Tucker's cooking."
"You've never tasted my cooking."
"Fine. Tucker's cooking."
The hockey house was louder than usual.
Someone had turned music on in the kitchen. Logan and Garrett were arguing over a video game in the living room while Tucker attempted to cook around three hockey players who apparently believed the kitchen island was a social gathering point.
Dean walked in behind you.
"This is why Tucker hates us."
"I don't hate all of you," Tucker said.
Tucker pointed towards Logan.
Hannah appeared from the living room.
You glanced towards Dean.
He was already telling Garrett about Emily.
Hannah followed your gaze.
Garrett looked towards you.
Then he turned towards Dean.
"Why didn't you say something worse?"
You sat between Dean and Hannah at the kitchen table while Garrett and Logan argued over portions and Tucker repeatedly threatened to ban everyone from eating if they didn't shut up.
Dean's hand rested on your thigh beneath the table.
His thumb moved lazily against your jeans while he listened to Garrett talk.
They knew how you communicated.
They knew to wait when your hands were busy.
They knew you could hear them perfectly.
They knew sometimes a small sound came out when you laughed.
The first time had frightened everyone.
Now, when you made a tiny breathy noise after Logan dropped a piece of garlic bread into his drink, Hannah didn't even blink.
The conversation shifted towards an upcoming hockey fundraiser.
"It's formal," Hannah explained.
"You own three suits that cost more than my car."
"Looking good and enjoying formal events are separate things."
Hannah looked towards you.
He immediately said, "Only if you want to."
Do I get to see him in one of the stupidly expensive suits?
"I look incredible in a suit."
A little sound escaped you with it.
The conversation kept moving.
You were washing dishes with Tucker.
Dean had been banned from helping because he apparently used too much soap.
He was leaning against the counter, bothering both of you.
"I have excellent hand-eye coordination."
Tucker handed you another plate.
Dean didn't notice immediately.
It wasn't the first time anyone had used a pet name for you.
something about it settled warm in your chest.
His eyebrows pulled together.
Then understanding crossed his face.
His grin became dangerous.
You immediately shook your head.
You grabbed the dish towel.
"Violence isn't the answer."
You chased him around the island.
"I'm staying out of this."
Your hand froze in the air.
Dean stopped across the island.
Tucker slowly looked towards you.
Your heart started pounding.
Your mouth was still open.
The second word sat there.
Dean's eyes stayed on yours.
Then Tucker abruptly turned back towards the sink.
His shoulders were shaking.
You realised he was laughing.
Your face slowly broke into a smile.
"Did you just tell me to shut up?"
Dean placed one hand against his chest.
"Your first sentence to me is an insult?"
A rough little sound came with it.
"I've never been prouder."
You pointed the dish towel at him.
Dean's expression changed instantly.
"Perfect enough that I was deeply wounded."
Dean took the towel from your hand.
You placed your hand in his.
Tucker finally turned around.
"She told me to shut up."
He turned back to the sink.
You immediately shook your head.
"Can I tell Garrett if he asks why I'm smiling like an idiot?"
"Best insult I've ever received."
Everyone was gathered in the living room.
Hannah was sitting on Garrett's lap. Logan occupied most of the floor. Tucker was reading in the armchair.
But he'd been smiling for forty minutes.
Dean looked back at Garrett.
"She told me to shut up."
Hannah looked towards you.
Everyone looked towards you.
For half a second, the attention felt like the hockey house after your first sound.
Everyone immediately looked elsewhere.
Hannah picked up her drink.
Garrett suddenly became very interested in the television.
A little sound came with it.
You reached for Dean's hand.
He laced your fingers together.
Several minutes later, Hannah looked towards you.
Dean walked you home later.
Only lightly, small flakes catching beneath the streetlights and disappearing against the pavement.
Dean's hand remained inside yours.
He had been quiet for nearly three minutes.
He kicked at a patch of snow.
"Today was the first time you said something because you wanted me to stop talking."
"I know that doesn't sound important."
Dean glanced towards you.
"But everything else you've said..."
"They all had emotion attached."
"You were just annoyed with me."
There was that word again.
"Not normal like you needed to talk."
He struggled for the wording.
"You weren't thinking about trauma or recovery or whether your voice worked."
"You just wanted your annoying boyfriend to shut the hell up."
A smile spread across your face.
Dean stopped beneath one of the streetlights.
He kissed you beneath the falling snow.
Just warm lips and cold air and his hand at your waist.
When he pulled away, you stayed close.
An invitation without pressure.
You felt it in your throat.
He answered the same way.
Then you started walking again.
A few steps later, Dean began talking about the fundraiser.
Naturally, he had opinions about what you should wear.
You listened for approximately twenty seconds.
He stopped talking immediately.
Dean burst out laughing so hard he nearly slipped on the snow.
You didn't need the spoken words this time.
You'd already made your point.
Taglist {open}: @ooopssssu @sleep-i-ness @zagreen @alice07ea @adrienneleclerc @nau-van @kmc1989 @femurgetokill @sshxamy @redbag55 @meriamloves-tsunoda-yuki @rainbowstar405 @gandalfthegoatsblog @dina2223 @partygetsmewetter12 @notplutos @lulusa27 @angelsvoice1love @superbfishhumanoidweasel @ilocuras24 @inchidentontheracetrack @five-seconds-flat @thecraziestcrayon @yolasturlis @noonenuts @wonderland2425 @purplerainx1 @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense-blog @iamshiningeuw @nicolej04 @mld25 @brianna28483 @fangirl93 @bellarkeselection @calums-betch @mswwvaleska @wiishies @bookluver114 @hagarsays @lilliepetalx @raynetargaryan2 @c-a-b3002 @mariamadison6-blog @baeeyarr @monayyy-21 @demirunner @flannelshirts-and-fingerguns @loverofmusic @velvetsighs @alwaysclassyeagle @missbmc94 @ethanthequeefqueen @garrettgrahamssexysnaps @parker-barnes-af @peterpangirl21 @katrinaellie @idontknowwhyimhere33 @powellssaturn @sangxiaonisworld @ephemeralninon @kkkkisworld @laenys-targaryen @smilezzz-artzs @chanelwidag @superlegend216 @thatsavioletiontobe @hwishwimcl @spooky-librarian-ghost @alexnpsblog @tillyk @treeofgarbage @lily-ann22 @outpostsworld @saltyfriendsaladbandit @buckandeddiesverison @caffeinatednerd90 @ryswritingrecord @yukimaniac @sapphire-deity @run-for-the-hills @wolfiee10 @itssamitime @daykrisr9libraries @v4mpir3s0oul @noodlestheexplorer
