A Long Day{Dean}

Waycca watched her feet as they scuffed along the tiled floors. She figured a walk around the castle would clear her mind, and she was wrong. Now there was nothing to distract her from the thoughts crowding her head. She promised herself that she'd go see Jane soon - guilt gnawed at her every moment she didn't - but she found she just couldn't face the first year right now. Not after everything she might have done, how much danger she'd put her friend in. And then there was Molly, who'd been left paralyzed on the floor of the trophy room for who knew how long, battered and bruised...

She was brought out of her stupor when her gaze caught on the door of the muggle studies classroom. There was only a moment's hesitation before she rushed forward and knocked, hand already gripping the doorknob.

Dean had been standing at the glass gun case, a glass of whiskey nearby as he packed away the weapons. His gaze kept straying to a puddle of dried blood and shredded ropes near the front of the room, no matter how many times he told himself not to look.

When the knock rang through the classroom, he took a gulp of whiskey before starting towards the door, the tumbler still in hand.

Waycca stared up at him for a moment, studying his face with her eyebrows drawn together. She edged inside the room and nudged the door closed with her hip. Her eyes swiveled to a mess of something nearby, but she immediately returned her gaze to Dean when she saw a hint of red.

She bit her lip for a moment before going forward and burying her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around his middle. She'd heard rumors about something having happened to him, but she'd refused to believe any of it. "Hi," she muttered tiredly into his shirt.

As she slipped into the room he desperately wanted to tell her to leave, she was the last person he wanted to see him like this. And as she carefully examined his face the feeling intensified but he couldn't make himself form the words. And then she wrapped her arms around him and any comprehensive thought abandoned him.

He wrapped his free hand around her, settling it on her hip and bent his head burying his face in her hair, "Hey."

He pulled her tighter as he spoke, needing the contact like a starving man needs food.

Waycca tightened her hold around him and took a shuddering breath, suddenly feeling drained. "H-how are you?" she managed, asking the most redundant question on earth given the circumstances, but she could feel the tension in the arm that was around her, and she wanted so much to be able to help, to fight off whatever had caused it.

She turned her head so that her cheek rested on his chest and she could look up at him. Another deep sigh escaped her, though this one was steadier, more controlled. She didn't want to be a trembling mess before him.

He gave a bitter chuckle and lifted the glass of whiskey to her line of sight, "horrible," he responded bluntly.

He could feel the tension leaving her as she seemed to curl up against him. He moved his arm from her waist to her shoulders and began guiding them towards the comfort of his living area, where there was a fire and more whiskey waiting.

Waycca smirked as she spotted the whiskey. She sure could have used some of that recently. "I see," she murmured, raising a hand to lightly flick the glass, satisfied with the ringing noise that followed.

She allowed herself to be led toward his living area, brightening slightly at the sight of a roaring fire. Her gaze flicked over the room, though it looked relatively unchanged since she was last here - the night of the new years ball felt like a long time ago as she stood here now.

"Here," he handed her the glass of whiskey and seperated himself from her just long enough to pour another glass and grab a thick down blanket. He draped the blanket over her shoulders and moved them both towards the recliner. Once seated, he pulled her close to him again, her presence somewhat calming the guilt raging inside him.

"Don't you dare move," he muttered, almost inaudiable.

Waycca took a long swig of the whiskey and looped her free arm around his neck, leaving a kiss on his temple before taking another sip. The blanket was delightfully soft, and only added to her comfort, though it was still an effort to shake this feeling that had plagued her.

His warmth was an excellent distraction from the thoughts pinging around her head and she had absolutely no intention of changing that. "Wouldn't dream of it," she replied softly, absently using her pinky to trace circles on her glass.

Dean took a long sip of his own drink, the burn of the spirit overwhelming his senses. He set his glass on a side table and wrapped his now free hand around her, effectively trapping her against him, as though she migh actually try to leave. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"This has been, the single worst day of my life," he muttered, feeling safe enough to confide in her.

Waycca studied his face with exhausted eyes and nodded against his head, somewhat relieved that he'd said that so that she could admit it herself. "Ditto," she murmured, the simple honesty taking more of an effort than it should have. Curiosity surged through her and she rested a hand on his cheek, wondering if she had the courage to ask. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, tone ridiculously quiet. The image of the red stain on the classroom floor sprang back to mind and her stomach lurched in dreading anticipation of how it could tie into the single worst day of his life.

"No," he opened his eyes and looked at her inquisitively,"Do you?"

He had heard that she had also been involved in the chaotic incident but he hadnt heard much more and after ensuring that she wasn't one of the many restricted to hospital beds, he had left it at that.

The thought of describing what she had done to her best friends was enough to make her shake her head no. Those words could never make their way out of her mouth, whether she wanted them to or not. "I think it's best to leave it at that we've both had a shitstorm of a day," she murmured, taking another involuntary sip of whiskey and pursing her lips aagainst the taste.

"That's the perfect way to describe it," he agreed. A small smile tugged at his lips when she pursed her lips in reaction to the strong alcohol, he bent his head and lightly kissed her, tasting the remains of the whiskey on her lips.

Waycca slowly returned the kiss, reaching her arm to its full length to rest her glass on the side table so that she could cup his face in her hands. She pulled back slightly so that their lips were barely touching and examined his face, desperately wanting this moment to last and that this guilt could all be flushed away.

"What's wrong?" He asked, normally she thrived on this type of physical contact. It worried him when she looked at him so seriously, and at this point it seemed like the contact was the only thing keeping the guilt at bay.

"Tell me," he brushed some of her hair away from her neck and began gently massaging the muscles that the movement had revealed.

Waycca relaxed into the movement of his fingers on her neck and shrugged, a small smile coming across her face. "Nothing," she muttered. "I just wanna stay in this damn recliner with a gorgeous man for a while, that's all." Which shouldn't seem like a problem, as that was just what she was doing, but she felt so restricted by the fact that she couldn't stay here for long. She shook her head and leaned her head forward to meet his lips again, shoving those thoughts away.

((Annnd, I gotta get to bed. Night!))

Dean stopped massaging her skin and reached around to cup the back of her neck, holding her in place. A small groan escaped him as her lips became pliant against his. Yes, staying here in the damn recliner seemed like a very good idea. He put a slight amount of pressure on the small of her back and began another gentle massage while he nibbled lightly on her lower lip.

((Night and auto correct fail Dean into Shawn...))

((Geesh, auto correct is now on my top 5 sarcastic list of intelligent beings. And sorry it took all day to reply - classes have sucked my soul - and free time - from my very being.))

Waycca let her left hand drop from his cheek to grip his collar, tugging him closer. Goosebumps sprang up along her skin as he nibbled on her lip and she made a small noise of pleasure, the hand on her back only adding to the sensation. She took it upon herself to deepen the kiss, her other hand coming up to brush through his hair.

((That's totally fine... The hour and a half bus ride home is what kills me..))

Dean added slightly more pressure to her lower back as she dragged her hand across his scalp. This was the Waycca he was used to, now all he needed was a dose of her patented sarcasm and all would be right with the world.

He dragged his hand from her lower back to settle comfortably on her hip. He was quickly discovering just how much he enjoyed the small noises she would make when in these situations.

Waycca's eyes remained half-closed as she kissed him greedily, hungrily. Oh, there was no doubt in her mind that this was exactly what was needed to recover from the mountain of horror that today had been. She reached behind her without breaking contact with his lips and draped the blanket tighter around them, further comforted by the hand on her hip.

Dean bit down on her lip, as the blanket settled more comfortably around them both and groaned in contentment. Involuntarily his hand began to move lower on her leg and the other reached up to tangle itself in her hair. Part of his subconscious was screaming at him that this was not the best way to handle guilt, but the rest of his mind had long ago decided not to care, she was a willing participant and from the eagerness she displayed he was sure that she needed this distraction as much as he did. As his fingers kneedeed the muscles underneath them, he found himself wishing that it was skin under his hand not cloth.

((I'm so sorry that took so long, my head hit the pillow and it was bye bye Aisling))

((No problem dear, though I'm probably about to say hello to my own pillow in a bit, so if I disappear that's why.))

Waycca let out something between a moan and a squeak as she felt him bite down on her lip. A shiver of excitement danced up her spine when his hand travel down to her leg. She placed her other hand on the neck of his shirt beside the other and began skimming her fingers over his collar bone, kisses movingnto his jaw line before migrating back to his lips. She briefly, vaguely wondered exactly where this would go, but the movements of his hands and mouth were enough to drain any rational thought from her brain. This was what she'd been craving all day, and the perfect distraction from all that had happened.

Dean shifted as she peppered kisses along his jaw line and grinned slightly, he allowed her to take control of the kiss for a moment. And when her lips left his momentarily to breathe, he ducked his head and latched onto the junction where her slender neck met her shoulder. He kissed and nipped at the skin, enjoying the taste of her.

Her skin tingled where his lips or teeth grazed it, and her grip on his shirt tightened slightly. Her hands moved back up to his hair, tugging on the ends the slightest bit. "Planning on giving me a hickey, sir?" she murmured into his ear, voice a bit husky, unable to resist voicing the thought when it popped into her head.