#summer driving

It feels like old times too, just him and me driving with no specific destination in mind, one of his tapes singing to us. This time he let me pick the music, so I chose an Eagles tape. In fact it’s the one I gifted him years ago when I accidentally bought two, or at least that’s what I told him had happened.

He’s drumming along to the song, fingers tapping the steering wheel as I hang out the window watching the fields, on either side of the road, dance in the breeze.

There’s a tug on the belt loop of my shorts,“You’re gonna fall out the window,” he warns, his hooked finger slipping away just before I sit properly and put my seat belt on.

“I definitely wasn’t,” I laugh, nudging his arm. “I’m totally experienced in hanging out car windows.”

He snorts, shaking his head, “Yeah, like a dog.”

“A very pretty dog,” I correct.

“Yeah, a pretty one,” he agrees. But then the smile is slipping off his face, and he’s clearing his throat. “Uh, you know I was thinking I could drop you off at your brothers. ‘Know you’ve been meaning to go.”

“Oh, sure!” I chirp, “But, what do you mean “drop off?” He’d let all of us stay, you know that right?” I turn to him, sitting sideways, despite the fact that he’s looking straight ahead.

I watch his Adam’s-apple bob, distracting me from tracing his sharp jaw. He shifts a little as if he’s uncomfortable, his knuckles whitening against the steering wheel. He’s making me nervous now. “I, uh, I think it’s time you go home.”

“What?” I whisper before I can fully register his words. All the joy I had harbored and the bright smile on my face instantly vanished, replaced instead by something too big to put a name to.

“I asked you to tag along to find my Dad. Well, we found him and he’s gone now. So, you can go home,” he clarifies.

It makes sense now; he didn’t take me on a nice drive because he felt bad about the other day, he’s taking me on a drive because he knew he’d feel bad about what he was going to say.

My throat aches and yet I really don’t want to cry. “I…I don’t understand,” I mumble, shifting my body to face forward. I don’t want to look at him right now, it’ll only make it harder not to cry.

I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with him and Sam, but especially him. “I don’t mind staying around. I want to,” I add.

He sighs through his nose, his head hanging low for a moment before he has to focus on the road. “You should go home,” he states. He’s telling me. This was never a conversation, there was never going to be a negotiation. His mind is already made up.

It feels as if a long sword was shoved through my heart and I’m left to choke on my blood. He’s being mean. I want to hate him or to scream but instead I look down at my clenched hands, nails digging into my palm. “That’s not fair,” I answer, trying to speak around the invisible hand that grips my vocal cords.

“Is this because of Gordon? Did he say something or…or make you realize something?” I ask, my head snapping towards him. But he’s already looking at me, his eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling on his lips.

“No, that’s—“ he tries to answer but I’m already cutting him off.

“I know what I am, I’m sorry,” I plead through a crack in my voice. “I wish I could change it but I can’t. But I can…I can stop using my powers. I don’t have to use them, we can forget it exi—“

The car comes to a sudden halt, a gasp cutting myself off. His hands move quick to put the car in park right where we stand in the middle of the road. He really looks at me then, not stolen glances while he drives, but full on attention. “You don’t apologize, you hear me?” he says sternly, his green eyes suddenly hard and sharp. He pauses long enough to hit the music off, never looking away from me.

“I don’t want you to ever change for me or anyone else,” he continues, firmly. “I don’t care what the hell you are. You could put a hex on me, and I still wouldn’t care, hell, I’d probably thank you. You’re my girl. If I ever say otherwise or say anything about you bein’ a witch like that then you hit me, understand?”

I nod, stunned. It’s a total 360. One moment he wants me gone, and the next he’s calling me “his girl.” And like an idiot my heart lurches in my chest like a bow against the strings of a violin in a slow song. “Then why do you want me gone?” I ask softly.

“I don—“ he clears his throat, eyes shutting as his head hangs low. “Fuck,” he mutters, finally looking at me again. His eyes have softened up, the storm passed right through. “You need to go home because I keep putting you in danger. Every hunt. The car crash. Gordon, for hells sake. I was too busy being an asshole to leave with you when you said you wanted to and it could’ve gotten you killed.”

“Dean, it takes a lot to kill me, you don’t have—“

“Doesn’t matter,” he cuts me off, his jaw clenched tightly. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and you’ll always be in danger if you stay with me.”

“But I want to stay with you,” I reply. “I knew what I was signing up for when I came along with you.”

“No, you couldn’t have guessed all of this,” he corrects. He’s desperate for me to agree with him.

“Maybe not all of it but I don’t care. Dean, this isn’t for you to decide. I know what I’m getting into and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” I argue, finding some strength.

“You don’t mean that,” he shakes his head.

“How can you say that?” I ask, offended. “I do mean it. I mean it with my entire being, with every breath I take, and every pulse of my heart.”

He swallows roughly, his lip twitching as he looks down.

“There is nowhere in the world that I’d rather be than right beside you,” I continue, pleading. He doesn’t need to answer, doesn’t need to say a word. I just need him to listen and to understand. His eyes close tightly as if he took a hit just from me speaking. “You can’t get rid of me, not unless you really want me gone ‘cause you can’t stand to see my face.”

His eyes snap up at me then like I said something crazy. “I’m not going anywhere,” I double down. “It’s sweet that you care so much and I know it scary to lose people, but you can’t just push me away. I’m not leaving.”

“Don’t,” he exhales.

“I won’t.”

“Good,” he nods, lips parted just slightly.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am,” he nods.

“Are you just agreeing with everything I say?” I ask.

“Only the parts where you’re right,” he answers.

“I must be really right then,” I remark.

His lip twitches, pulling into a slight smirk. “You are. I’m an idiot and an asshole.”

“Stop with that self deprecating nonsense,” I frown. “I know you think of yourself as some bad guy, for whatever reason. But you’re not. You’re incredibly kind, and loyal, and—“

“Don’t,” he cuts me off.

“Why?”

“I don’t deserve that. I made you upset,” he explains.

“You did make me upset,” I acknowledge. “But it stemmed from a good place, and I get it.”

“You shouldn’t forgive me,” he shakes his head.

“Why not?” I ask, nearly laughing.

“You shouldn’t,” he repeats.

“Okay silly, you’re forgiven,” I smile.

He scuffs, putting the car back in drive. “You’re annoying,” he mutters, smiling.

“Thanks,” I chirp.

“But, I’m…um,” his smile drops from his face. “I am sorry.”

“Oh, shut up and buy me a slushie, please.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

(Next Chapter)

A/N: This is lowkey inspired by this Eagles tape i’ve been listening to on repeat for the last two days. This also reminds me of the Laurie-Amy confession scene in Little Women (2019) which is kind of gonna make me crash out even though i’m the one who wrote it.