Jason Todd's Wife

Across the hockey house living room, you laughed at something the guy beside you said, head tipping back slightly. His hand rested on your knee like he belonged there.

Dean’s stomach twisted violently.

Garrett followed his line of sight and immediately groaned. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You’re jealous.”

Dean scoffed loudly enough to earn a glance from you across the room. “I’m literally not.”

“You absolutely are,” Garrett laughed. “This is incredible. I’ve never witnessed such a sight.”

Dean ignored them both, taking his beer back before shoving himself off the kitchen counter. He needed another drink. Or maybe twelve.

This was ridiculous.

You were single.

He was single.

That was the whole point.

From the beginning, the two of you had agreed this wasn’t serious. No labels. No exclusivity. No clinginess.

Just sex.

Really good sex.

The kind that had somehow turned into movie nights and late-night drives and you stealing his hoodies and Dean memorising your coffee order without meaning to.

Except now there was some finance major touching your thigh like he’d earned it, and Dean suddenly felt borderline homicidal and violently ill.

“You good, D?” Tucker asked as Dean grabbed vodka this time instead of beer.

“Fantastic.”

Tucker looked toward the couch.

“Oh,” he said carefully. “That bad?”

Dean glared at him. “Shut up.”

The worst part was that you looked good tonight.

Dean knew exactly what your skin felt like under his hands. Knew what you sounded like when he got you alone.

And now some other guy was making you laugh.

You spotted him hovering near the kitchen and smiled automatically.

That smile almost made it worse.

You excused yourself from the couch a few minutes later, weaving through the crowd toward him.

“There you are,” you said easily. “You disappeared.”

Dean leaned back against the counter. “You seemed busy.”

One eyebrow lifted immediately.

Uh oh.

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like an asshole.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “Dean.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been glaring at Evan all night.”

“Evan,” Dean repeated flatly. “Jesus Christ, even his name sucks.”

You stared at him for a second before realisation slowly crossed your face.

“No way…”

Dean took another drink.

“Oh my God,” you laughed quietly. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Because I’m hooking up with someone else?”

The directness it was harder than he expected.

Dean’s jaw tightened. “I just think you could do better.”

You blinked at him slowly. “Dean. You literally sleep with half the female population of Briar.”

“Not anymore.”

The words slipped out too fast.

Your expression shifted slightly.

Dean immediately regretted opening his mouth.

You stepped closer, voice softer now, your fingers grazing softly over his shirt covered abdomen, “What’s going on with you?”

Dean didn’t know when this had happened.

Didn’t know when you’d become the first person he looked for at parties. Or when his bed started feeling empty without you in it. Or when hearing another guy make you laugh started feeling like someone scraping a knife against his ribs.

He was fucking Dean Di Laurentis.

He didn’t do this. Relationships were messy. Feelings complicated things. Casual was supposed to be easy.

But watching another guy touch you all night had made him feel insane. And maybe worse than insane was hurt.

“You said casual,” he said finally.

Your face softened slightly. “Hey, we both did.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

Dean laughed once, bitter under his breath. “Because apparently I’m an idiot.”

You went quiet.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw before looking at you directly for the first time all night.

“I didn’t think I’d care.”

There it was.

Ugly and embarrassing and completely unavoidable now.

Your lips parted slightly.

Behind you, the music blasted and people were yelling.

Dean barely noticed any of it.

Because you were just staring at him.

“You care if I hook up with someone else?” you asked carefully.

Dean gave you a look. “That obvious?”

“A little.”

“Fantastic.”

A small smile tugged at your mouth before you shook your head. “You know what the crazy part is?”

“What?”

“I only started talking to Evan because I thought you were losing interest.”

Dean actually frowned. “What?”

“You stopped sleeping with random girls,” you said quietly. “You started acting weirdly domestic with me and then pulling away after. I figured maybe you were getting bored.”

“Bored?” Dean repeated like the word offended him personally.

You shrugged slightly. “You never said anything.”

“Because I was trying not to turn into a psychopath!”

You laughed softly.

Dean stepped closer before he could stop himself.

“You think I liked watching him touch you?”

Your breath caught slightly.

Dean noticed immediately because of course he did. “I almost put him through a wall, baby.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m serious.”

Silence settled between you both, your fingers gripping his shirt a little tighter. The space between you was closing.

He knew he had no right to feel this way when he’d been the one insisting on casual from the start.

But standing here now, looking down at you with your mouth slightly pink from the drink in your hand and your eyes fixed on his, Dean realized something horrifying.

“You wanna know something pathetic?” he asked quietly.

You looked wary already. “Probably not.”

“I have your coffee order saved in my notes app.”

You blinked.

Dean pushed forward before he could lose his nerve.

“You leave hair ties all over my apartment and I don’t throw them out anymore. Tucker asked why there’s strawberry yogurt in our fridge because I don’t eat strawberry yogurt but you do when you’re studying. Garrett says I smile differently when you text me.” He paused. “And apparently seeing another guy touch you makes me physically ill.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered. “That’s pretty much how I felt too.”

For a second neither of you moved.

Then quietly, “So what now?”

Dean looked at you for a long moment.

Then his eyes flicked toward the living room where Evan was still sitting on the couch waiting for your return.

“Now,” Dean said calmly, “I’m gonna walk over there and tell him to stop looking at my girl.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Your girl?”

The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted slightly.

Hunter Davenport.

Oh no.

You knew that look on Dean’s face.

Everyone did.

Garrett noticed a second later, muttering, “Shit.”

Dean was already moving.

You were out of your seat before anyone else reacted.

“Dean.”

He barely glanced at you, still stalking toward Hunter. “Y/N, move.”

His voice was dangerously calm.

“Dean, no.”

“I mean it.” He gently but firmly pushed you aside by your arm without looking away from Hunter. “Hey, Davenport!”

Every head in Malone’s started turning.

Hunter looked up from where he stood with a couple teammates near the bar.

Recognition flashed. Then smug amusement.

Huge mistake.

You saw Dean’s jaw tighten instantly.

“Dean Hayward Di Laurentis,” you snapped sharply, stepping in front of him again, “turn around right now.”

For the first time his eyes actually landed on you.

“What?”

“Turn around.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

Because you knew him. Knew that once Dean got angry enough, common sense disappeared completely beneath loyalty and emotion and impulse.

You could practically see it happening now.

The tunnel vision. The adrenaline. One bad second away from ruining everything.

“Baby,” you said quickly, reaching for his wrist before you even realized the word slipped out, “listen to me. Just turn around, okay? Don’t do this.”

Silence.

Behind you, Logan choked on his drink.

Hannah’s eyes widened.

Garrett looked like he’d just witnessed a magic trick.

Because Dean froze.

Completely.

Not at the command, At the baby.

You saw it hit him in real time.

Saw the anger crack just enough for him to actually look at you properly.

And once he did, you knew you had him.

“Wha…” His voice came out rougher now. Confused. “What?”

Your fingers tightened around his wrist.

“Dean,” you said softly this time, desperate now that you had his attention, “walk away. Babe, we’ll deal with this, okay? But you are not throwing your life away over him.”

His chest rose heavily.

Still angry.

But now he was looking at you instead of Hunter.

“Look at me,” you whispered.

Dean’s eyes locked onto yours immediately.

There he is.

Not hockey Dean.

Not party Dean.

Not angry Dean.

Your Dean.

The one who always listened to you eventually.

“You hit him,” you continued carefully, “and then what? Suspension? Charges? You wanna explain that to your coach? Your family?”

Dean swallowed hard.

Hunter laughed somewhere behind you. “Aw, Di Laurentis needs his ex to calm him down?”

You felt Dean tense all over again.

“Dean,” you warned immediately.

His jaw flexed.

You stepped closer without thinking, both hands against his chest now.

And quieter, “Please.”

That did it.

You literally watched the fight drain out of him.

Not completely but enough.

Dean closed his eyes briefly before exhaling hard through his nose.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Relief hit you so fast your knees almost weakened.

Behind you, Garrett quietly said, “Holy shit.”

Dean looked down at you finally, really looked.

Your worried eyes.

Your grip on his shirt.

The way you were standing between him and a fistfight without hesitation.

“You called me babe,” he said quietly.

Heat flooded your face instantly. Of course that was what he focused on.

“Dean.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth despite everything. “You called me babe.”

“You were about to commit aggravated assault.”

“Yeah, but you said babe.”

You stared at him incredulously.

Logan barked out a laugh somewhere behind you.

Even Tucker muttered, “He’s unbelievable.”

Dean finally dragged his eyes away from you long enough to glare over your shoulder at Hunter.

Then back to you.

Then, with visible effort, he stepped backward.

Away from the fight.

The entire bar looked stunned.

Because nobody stopped Dean Di Laurentis when he got like that.

Nobody except you.