Fic: Picking Up (11/11)

[serafina20]

Title Picking Up
Author serafina20
Fandom SPN
Pairing Dean/OFC
Rating Mature
Summary Dean and Rachel search for Sam.
Series Captured Soul, Kitsune, Another Kind of Trap, and The Greater Good.
Spoilers In My Time of Dying, Everybody Loves a Clown
Notes Thanks for waiting. Sorry it took so long. Enjoy and please, I love feedback!

Previous Parts




Rachel's stomach growled loudly.

"Hungry?" Dean asked. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side. One hand reached out and stroked down her torso, caressing her stomach.

"A little," she admitted. "We've been in here for, what? Four hours now? I can't imagine how many calories we've burned." She rolled over to face Dean. "Not that I'm complaining by any stretch of the imagination." Still feeling a bit shy, she smiled at him.

He smiled back. Ran his thumb down her cheek, over what Rachel knew to be a tearstain. "You telling me that you don't know how many calories the average person burns during sex?"

"It's different for everyone," she said, cheeks flushing. "Depends on height, weight, activity level, how vigorous the sex was."

Dean glanced at the wall where the headboard had punched a hole in the cheap plaster. "I'm going for pretty damn vigorous."

She blushed harder. "And since I don't pay that much attention to calories and weight loss anyway, I can honestly say, no, I don't know how many calories an average person burns during sex. I just know we've been in here four hours, had full penetrative intercourse three times, oral sex twice, and you've fingered me to orgasm at least three more times, so..."

"God, baby, I love it when you talk dirty," Dean growled. He rolled on top of her, capturing her mouth with his.

Rachel opened her mouth, kissing him back. It was so strange. So weird how much things changed, even when she never thought they would. One day ago, lying naked in bed with Dean would have been nerve-wracking. Hell, four hours ago, after that first time, it had been. She'd felt awkward and shy. Worse, she'd been unable to stop crying. She hadn't been upset or even in pain because, Lord knew, Dean had taken all the time in the world to get her so ready and so aroused that any pain there might have been was mere discomfort and any discomfort was quickly washed away by overwhelming pleasure.

Whatever bragging Dean may have ever done about his sexual prowess was well deserved.

She hadn't wanted to try, or even meant to. She'd just been so overwhelmed by everything, the tears came.

Dean hadn't said anything, except to make sure she wasn't in pain and wasn't regretting what'd happen. Once she'd reassured him that it'd been great, he'd settled back and held her until the tears slowed. As they'd slowed, the kisses had heated. And then the kissing turned into more.

Her stomach growled again. His responded.

"Sam needs to come home, soon," Dean said, breaking the kiss. "I'm starving, too."

Rachel pulled him down to her. Kissed him. "So. Do we thank him when he comes back, or kill him?"

Dean shook his head. "I was thinking we just not say anything. Lull him into a false sense of security, then, when he least expects it, get him back."

"Sounds good. How?"

"It'll come to us." He kissed her forehead. "I'm keeping you, by the way."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah." He rolled off her. His fingers threaded into her hair and combed through the sweat-damp locks.

"So, does this mean you'll talk to me about things? Like feeling that you're dirty or about your father."

Dean closed his eyes. "I'm not good with the whole talking thing. About feelings and stuff."

"I know. And, believe me, I don't expect, like, heartfelt declarations or anything. Christ, Dean, the only time you've told me you love me, you having an out of body experience. But I know you do."

He lifted his head and opened his eyes. "I do."

"I know." She smiled. Traced his lips with her fingers. "And I know that you hate talking about your feelings. But if I'm going to be your wife, and you're planning on keeping me, then use me."

Dean smirked. "Oh, I'll use you baby."

"Dean."

He leaned over and kissed her neck. "Speaking of, do you want make it official?"

"What?"

"Get married for real. Do the whole preacher or justice of the peace or whatever. Wedding dress, family. The whole nine yards thing."

Okay, she hadn't been expecting that. She was still surprised at how important the wedding rings had been to him in the first place. "I don't know," she said cautiously. "Do you?"

He shrugged. "Might not be so bad. But I know it's, like, supposed to be really important to girls. And I know that none of this is what you planned for you life."

"You're feeling guilty?" Then she winced. Duh, he was feeling guilty. Lately, he was feeling nothing but guilty. "Sorry," she said. "The sex. It made my brain mush."

Dean smirked, but there was still hurt in his eyes.

Rachel sighed and climbed onto Dean. "I read somewhere that everyone gets the life they want. If this wasn't the life I wanted, I wouldn't be here."

He looked somewhat mollified.

"As for a wedding, why don't we hold off awhile."

"Yeah." He frowned, averted his eyes. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Because my parents will want to pay for it. My mom will want to go dress shopping, and I wouldn't mind some presents." She kissed him.

Dean looked back to her. "That sounds reasonable. But, uh. How big would this thing be? Because, I uh..."

"Not big. I wouldn't want a big wedding. In fact, I will beg for the extended family not to come."

He looked wistful for a moment. "Must be nice, though. Having an extended family."

"It can be both a burden and a blessing." She traced his lips. "We can have them, if you want."

"We'll see what happens. Truth is? I just want to see you in a wedding dress. And white lacy underwear and all that." He leered at her.

She wanted to suggest she just get a wedding dress--and the white lacy underwear--but she knew him better than that. Sex wasn't just what he was after. He wanted what his father had fought twenty odd years for: a woman worth giving up everything for.

Rachel could only hope that she could live up to the challenge.

There was a sound outside of gravel being crunched by tires. Lights flashes through the thin curtains, then died.

"Sam's home," Dean said.

"We should have showered. And dressed. Sam's gonna unlock the door and find us all naked and smelly."

"Serves him right."

The door opened. "Look guys," Sam said, sticking his head in. His eyes widened, then looked away. A deep blush crept over his cheeks. "Okay, good. You talked. I'll, uh.... I'll just leave this here." He placed a bag of food inside the door. "Sorry."

"Serves you right," Dean said.

"I know." He closed the door.

"Food." Rachel bounced out of bed and immediately regretted it. "Oh, crap. I'm sore."

"What'd you expect?" Dean, gentleman that he was, had already reached the food. He grabbed a handful of fries and stuffed them into his mouth. "We've been having sex." He passed her a burger.

"First time. Didn't think about that." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and added softly, "Didn't think about a lot of things."

"We're cool, though. Right? I mean..." Dean trailed off and looked at her, worry on his face.

Rachel smiled at him, trying for reassuring. It was hard, though; for some reason, she wanted to cry again. "Yeah. Yeah, we're cool. And we're totally doing it again. Just... tomorrow or something." She took a bite of her burger, then set it down. "I'm going to wash up. I'll be back in a few."

Dean came over. Took her around the waist. Practically bent her over backwards as he kissed her. "I'm glad..." He stopped. Frowned. Then shrugged and said, "I'm glad for you."

"Yeah." She kissed him softly and whispered, "I'm glad for you, too." She kissed him again, then untangled herself and went into the bathroom.

So. It was done. She'd committed herself not. Not that she hadn't before, because she'd been so stupid in love with Dean before, there'd been no way she could ever leave him. But now it was different.

Rachel stood in front of the sink, looking at her reflection. She knew that, really, she wasn't any different than before. Just, not a virgin and, as Dean put it, fairly proficient at giving blow jobs. At least proficient enough for him. But, she felt different. More comfortable in her own body. It wasn't quite the mystery it was before.

Plus, Dean had seen her at her worst. Crying like a baby, red faced and sweaty, making weird sounds, babbling in tongues (French and Latin, for reasons she couldn't even begin to fathom). There wasn't much worse she could do that was as embarrassing as any of that.

At least she hoped.

And, as for the potential threat of a demon baby... Well. She'd just have to keep being really careful. Birth control was a wonderful thing, especially when you used a lot of it.

For a moment, she toyed with the idea of telling Dean what the demon had threatened. Then she rejected it. Now wasn't the time. He was going through too much, and she didn't want to add to that. She was supposed to take care of him. Ease his burdens. Not add to them.

"All right," she said to her reflection. "So I won't tell him. But it's fine. He doesn't need to know, anyway. And I'm not letting some third rate, pathetic excuse for a demon try to scare me into hiding." With those words, she bent over the sink. Turned the water on and splashed it on her face.

When she rose, her reflection was already there, yellow eyed and smirking.

"Shit," she said.

The demon smirked deeper. "Game on, Princess." It blew her a kiss then disappeared, leaving Rachel staring at her reflection alone.

Fin