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instead of living in your head

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You didn't realize at first.

"Think you can handle it on your own?" John had said in place of your father, too.

"Yes, sir." You had said, in place of Dean. Because of course a word to Dean was a word to you. The way of the world is you and Dean.

You didn't realize when the world was a picturesque pastel watercolor of smoke or hallucination and Dean's voice made the words, "Are you okay?" You thought maybe Dean wasn't choking like you were. But he was. And when she smoke cleared and he'd had the time to think about your nonverbal yet audible response, he'd looked up at you with a look of fascination-horror no Winchester had made in your vicinity. Yet, despite your lungs still reeling and the fear of what ensued, it was a secret. The witch was dead, oh god you shot someone oh no, and that's all that matters. After all, this could be fun.
You were sixteen then.

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You've got one bookbag. Inconspicuous and natural, you're unlike the Winchesters in the way of blending in. Your rental cars are just your average, nothing flashy or pleasantly classic. Nothing to make you wonder. And, well, you didn't carry yourself guarded and wary. You give off that impression of naive trust.
You've learned by now how to close Dean off from your thoughts at least temporarily, and you're relishing the privacy. Normally you couldn't think without Dean melting into your mind, memories and thoughts all fused together. A nightmare and a dream wrapped up in one, you couldn't distinguish it one way or the other. The only exception to that is the times when Dean wakes up, all cold sweats and panting and you can feel every shudder and toxic thought. It's hard to keep yourself in your bed, or in your room for that matter.
But, blankly staring at the motel ceiling, you miss it. You miss Dean's presence like a child missing a blanket. It's been five years since the Incident; it's no easier.

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The floor echoes uncomfortably under Dean's shoes, almost more unsettling than the stick-stick-stick sound when you're barefoot walking. He's going out to keep his thoughts from straying so close to you that it ruptures the fragile privacy you've crafted, but animated enough that you don't go digging through his head to seek out the silence. Unlike you, he hasn't quite mastered the mental wall. Regardless, you try to respect his privacy, even now that his head is loud and oh god there's moaning. You push back against Dean's consciousness- he feels a gentle pressure- which brings him to the realization that he thinks loud, tries to be less... Disruptive? Yes, that's the word. You're trying to think here. think about... Not Dean, not in your bed, not with his skin flush against yours and hickeys everywhere and your moans filling the empty air. The world dissolves around your momentarily, but you snap out of it immediately; that feeling, it's a little reality you call make for the two of you. If you were religious you'd pray he didn't feel it, not your body under his, chest rising and falling like a marathon. But Dean did. The girl was a small, frail thing. Not you in any way. She didn't taste like you, didn't breathe like you, so when he felt your body and soul it was striking. Somewhere, in the panic, you thought you felt him smirk.

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You came back days later, and that was days too long.

Dean was incredibly silent, unsettlingly withdrawn. You thought it was trouble, Dean thought it as an exercise of restraint. The air bit at your skin every rest stop, longing bit at Dean's consciousness with every passing second.

New York had snowed, Jersey had flurries and hail and the other states got gradually warmer until your skin was home at last, home with Dean and-

His lips were even hotter on yours. Missedyoumissedyoumissedyou the bond sang, bodies twined together and your back pressed against the wall. It was a wonderful feeling, like tea after snow.

Like a bond after silence.

You felt an acute sense of breathlessness as the kiss went on, heated and intensified, and you vaguely noticed your abrupt lack of clothing.

Inside you, Dean came alive and you awoke.

He groaned out feral growls, your eyes wide and wondered.

Mind and body, melted into a beautifully perfect unity.