Dean Winchester (
weary_head) wrote2010-05-23 03:59 pm
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timed to May 28th
The Winchester was empty.
Dean had wandered past its silent tables before, snuck in after hours in search of pie, but it wasn't after hours. It was seven p.m. on a Friday night, a prime dinner hour on a prime dinner night, and yet Dean stood alone in the doorway, pulling fitfully at the sleeves of his suit.
He'd worn the suit before. It was his favorite, and judging by the way Angua looked at him when he was in it, he looked handsom in it, so Dean couldn't understand why the collar seemed so tight now, or why the jacket seemed so hot. The lights of the Winchester were turned down low and intimate, emitting no heat for him to blame, and the breeze through the windows was fresh and sweet. Touching his hand to the flush on his neck, Dean swore quietly, taking another cool sip of water before he returned to the door.
Any time now, he'd see Angua on the path. She'd be beautiful, because she always was, and the sight of her would stop his breath, because it always did. It was strange to think on now when Dean felt so close to gasping into a paper bag, but he knew, as soon as he saw her everything would fall into place.
He'd begun working at the clinic more than a year ago. This last week he'd gone back to school. He had a best friend and a hobby that didn't involve a gun, he had a little girl who he looked on as a daughter, he had a dog and a home and a life that could be shared someone. Maybe Dean had a long, long way to go towards perfect, but he'd worked hard to be the kind of man a woman like Angua deserved. He loved her. Compared to the life he'd known, the island was still and safe, and there was time, and there was no one to take it away from him.
Leaning his shoulder against the door, Dean watched the path for a sudden spill of long blond hair. He loved her, he could have this, and it was time.
Dean had wandered past its silent tables before, snuck in after hours in search of pie, but it wasn't after hours. It was seven p.m. on a Friday night, a prime dinner hour on a prime dinner night, and yet Dean stood alone in the doorway, pulling fitfully at the sleeves of his suit.
He'd worn the suit before. It was his favorite, and judging by the way Angua looked at him when he was in it, he looked handsom in it, so Dean couldn't understand why the collar seemed so tight now, or why the jacket seemed so hot. The lights of the Winchester were turned down low and intimate, emitting no heat for him to blame, and the breeze through the windows was fresh and sweet. Touching his hand to the flush on his neck, Dean swore quietly, taking another cool sip of water before he returned to the door.
Any time now, he'd see Angua on the path. She'd be beautiful, because she always was, and the sight of her would stop his breath, because it always did. It was strange to think on now when Dean felt so close to gasping into a paper bag, but he knew, as soon as he saw her everything would fall into place.
He'd begun working at the clinic more than a year ago. This last week he'd gone back to school. He had a best friend and a hobby that didn't involve a gun, he had a little girl who he looked on as a daughter, he had a dog and a home and a life that could be shared someone. Maybe Dean had a long, long way to go towards perfect, but he'd worked hard to be the kind of man a woman like Angua deserved. He loved her. Compared to the life he'd known, the island was still and safe, and there was time, and there was no one to take it away from him.
Leaning his shoulder against the door, Dean watched the path for a sudden spill of long blond hair. He loved her, he could have this, and it was time.
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Finishing the last of his course in three bites, Dean wondered whether he should slow down and rerehearse his speech in his head, or hurry the hell up before he ruined it. Stuck between both options, he opted for more wine.
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She gave the refill a curious look, but didn't say anything. She finished the salad, licking some stray sauce from her thumb.
"That was delicious, thank you."
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"Glad you liked it," he said, putting aside his own plate, too. Even if it had been meat, he couldn't have finished it right now. "You ready for round two?"
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"Huh. If I like this, I don't have to join the Dark Side, right?"
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"What's the Dark Side? Is that what you call vegetarianism behind my back?"
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"I...also call it 'A Waste of Eating Utensils' and 'God Gave Us Canines for a Reason.'"
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"But he also gave us molars!" She took her plate with a nod of thanks, and tried a bite. "Mmm. Definitely joining the Dark Side with this one."
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"You - " he started. "You think you'll have room for dessert?" It was a dumb question, especially when they'd only just begun the main course, but Dean's mouth and his brain seemed to be operating on different levels.
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"Dean. I think you're sweating. You know you don't actually have to try to impress me, right?" She gave an uncertain smile. "You kind of had me no matter what a long time ago."
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Shoving a mouthful in to shut himself up, Dean began to eat by rote, suddenly determined to get to the important part before he broke into freaking hives.
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She continued to eat, and noted Dean was shoveling it in as usual. "You like it? I could actually make this with meat, if you'd like to have it again sometime."
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"Angua," he said and stopped. "I'm gonna get the dessert out."
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"Well. Okay, sure." She smiled, pushing her plate aside. It wasn't like she was very hungry anymore, the salad and what eggplant she had eaten had hit the spot. "What is it?"
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He stood up, making himself walk slowly towards the kitchen. "Good though, I might've sampled it."
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"Here you go," he said, sticking it in front of her with an almost overwhelming roll of nerves through his insides. Eyes wide, he looked down at the dessert, then her.
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She waited, spoon poised, for Dean to sit.
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"Dig in."
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At her second pass her spoon caught on something, clinking hard against the plate when it wouldn't go through the cake. Angua blinked. "Um." She dragged the object out of the cake with her spoon. She picked it up and her mouth opened in surprise as she realized what it was.
There was a ring in her cake.
"Dean?" she said, searching his eyes.
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He plucked the ring from her fingers, dropping onto a knee and taking her hands in his, the diamond circlet curled around his pinkie. "So here's the thing. I lived my whole life never expecting anything good to happen to me. I had good things, sure, I had Sam and I had Bobby and my dad, but I figured that was it, and that nothing else would ever come.
"There wasn't time for it. And I told myself there wasn't need for it, almost until I believed it. And then I came here."
Dean would've have been horrified at the way his eyes stung in that moment if he'd noticed, but he only swallowed and continued.
"Everything was different. I slowed down. I stayed in one place, and I got...I got to start picking things for me. Because I wanted them, and they made me happy. I got to start dreaming again, of what kind of life I'd like to have if I could choose it, and I started reaching for it, and I got it. I know my family's safe, I have a job where I get to stop things bleeding rather than makin'em start. I have friends, I have kids I love to look after. And I've got you." Dean squeezed her hand.
"And I want to keep you for as long as you'll have me. So, Angua, I've got a question to ask you."
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"A question," she repeated.
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"Of course," she said, and, "yes."
She slid out of her chair to wrap her arms around Dean, pulling him into a fierce hug. Five years with Carrot, and she hadn't thought-- no matter how she'd tried she never could imagine herself as his wife. She never thought what they had had a chance of surviving. But with Dean she couldn't see how there was anything else, or anyone, for her.
Dean had helped her in so many ways, she'd never been as happy as she was here, with him and the life they'd made on this strange little island. "I don't ever want to leave you, Dean. I won't."
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