by Cher Etan
“You’re saying he doesn’t trust you,” Meaghan intoned.
“I’m saying…he needs to know he can trust me so he’s keeping watch.”
“That kind of seems to be contradictory to me. If he trusts you, he wouldn’t need to watch you.”
“I guess it hasn’t been long enough for him to feel like he can just leave me to my own devices in a roomful of men looking for sex, or sexual gratification and just be okay with that. I’m okay with him not being okay. He gives me enough space to work; but at the same time, he’s possessive of me. I kind of like it.”
“Well all due respect Daniel, there’s no men at my work place looking for sexual gratification,” Meaghan protests.
“Yeah, maybe. But there are men who are powerful and attractive who are known to date their female workmates. How many hospital shows are on TV? In all of them, the doctors are sleeping with each other, or with the nurses. Your shifts are long right? These people they spend more time with you than he possibly could…and now you’re having coffee with one of them? Look at it from his perspective.”
“So I’m not supposed to socialize with my workmates?” Meaghan asked incredulously.
“Socialize if you want; but don’t lie about it. Expect your boyfriend to be insecure about it. If he wasn’t, you should be worried. It would mean he doesn’t care.”
Meaghan sighed, thinking about all this. Relationships were so hard…who knew?
“So what should I do then?” she asked Daniel. Who would have guessed that he’d be such a mine of knowledge and wisdom?
“Exactly what you told me to do with Bain. Talk to him,” he said.
Meaghan laughed softly, “I did kind of leave him high and dry.”
“You don’t want to do that. It just gives time for poisonous thoughts to fester,” he said as if he’d been there, done that.
Meaghan fished into her bag, searching for her phone. She extracted it and saw it had gone off. The battery must have died; she’d neglected to charge it since last night, being rather distracted with other things. She sighed and plugged it in, sipping another glass of wine while they waited for it to get enough juice to switch on.
“Do you think Bain and I will make it?” Daniel asked suddenly.
Meaghan thought about Luigi and how that situation could only be labeled as ‘it’s complicated’. And then there was the fact that Daniel was a stripper and Bain couldn’t exactly take him home to mama. Some people got into stripping as some form of rebellion but she had a feeling that Daniel wasn’t one of them. Which meant that he couldn’t just…stop. He’d need to find other employment and he had bills; stripping was probably more lucrative than any blue collar job Daniel could get and that was why he did it; she didn’t get the impression that he enjoyed it. And if he was also looking after this sick brother of his, the hours were probably advantageous too. Like a cherry on top, he was as much from the wrong side of the tracks as Meaghan was. Worse than Meaghan because at least she was a professional.
On the other hand, Bain did spend a lot of time angsting about Daniel and worrying about whether or not he was using him. Which meant he was emotionally invested in this relationship. Would he have the courage to take Daniel on long term though? Meaghan couldn’t say. Bain was one of the bravest people she knew but he chose his battles. Did Bain think that Daniel was worth fighting for? Did Dean think that Meaghan was worth fighting for? Meaghan didn’t want to be drawing these parallels but they seemed to be doing it without any help from her. Daniel was right about one thing; she needed to talk to Dean.
*****
Her phone finally powered on to a series of notifications. It seemed she had a number of text messages; all from the same number. She sighed, wondering what Dean was going to tell her now. Maybe he was breaking up with her. Probably it was more insults. How many was one expected to take of those before the earrings, and all bets, were off? She scrolled through them, just to get the gist;
“I can’t make you forgive me. I get that. I would if I could but I can’t. But there is a choice, Megs, you know there is. I did a bad thing, I get that. But you lied to me. You did a bad thing too. You know. But I won’t… I won’t make you forgive me. So you call me when you can, okay?”
That was the first message and it almost undid her. Meaghan didn’t know how she was supposed to read through the other, God knew how many. She scrolled down, picking another at random. She’d go through them carefully later, when she was alone but for now she just wanted to see how bad things had got.
Please, Megs. Just. I need to know you're still breathing, okay? You don't have to call. And. And I won't pick up if you do. Just... something, okay? A text, just so I know you're... please.”
Wow, Dean. Pleading. This was not a good situation they found themselves in. Things had gone left a bit too fast. She needed to get things back on track sooner rather than later. She scrolled down to the last messages.
“...you bitch, you fucking witch, why won't you just fucking... call me, Meaghan, come on, please. It won't be like a third degree or anything. I won't, okay? Not anymore, I swear I won't. I just want to hear your voice, please, Megs. Please-please, okay, just… fucking please.”
Ouch.
She didn’t know Dean even knew such language let alone spoke it. Her fingers skipped to the last message without reference to her brain. She had to know where his head was currently at.
I’m sorry. I’m drunk again. Seems I keep repeating my mistakes. You’re turning me into someone I don’t recognize Meaghan.
Meaghan’s heart ran cold.
“Daniel. Thanks for the talk, and the wine and the meatloaf but I gotta go okay?” she said as she stuffed her phone and other things that had managed to creep out of her bag back in it.
“Sure darlin’ I get it. Boyfriend shenanigans huh?”
“Boyfriend shenanigans,” she agreed standing up. “Now I gotta go nip those poisonous thoughts in the bud before shit gets too real.”
“Good luck,” Daniel came over to her and enveloped her in his big strong arms. He smelled of sandalwood. Meaghan could not absolutely help that her heart sped up. “And thanks,” he added quietly.
“You’re so welcome. And thank you,” she said disengaging herself from him. He smiled down at her with those devastating gray eyes. “I think you and Bain will be just fine,” she said with a smile.
Chapter 4
Meaghan knocked tentatively at Dean’s door, expecting that he would ignore her totally.
“Who is it?” his voice over the intercom was irritated and not exactly sober-sounding.
“Megs,” she said voice trembling only slightly.
She was very surprised when Dean tore open the door and more or less tackled her into the opposite wall yelling about what an asshole she was. Meaghan’s back thumped into the wall, breath leaving her like she'd been punched, because Dean was not really holding back. Meghan’s arms wrapped around Dean more or less in self-defense, because her body was reading this as an attack, and her heart rate was spiking accordingly.
She wasn't getting any kind of chance at recovery either or even getting a word in edgewise, because Dean's mouth was on her neck, talking wild and sounding angry, even if that's not what this was. Dean was just reacting, an over-abundance of adrenaline taking over him, more like. Jarringly honest and angry-pleased and calling Meaghan all kinds of things. Meaghan was completely bemused by this side of Dean. Perfectly capable of hugging the living hell out of her, while still hurling abuse roundly at her. It was so emotional and needy that it was kind of freaking her out. Meaghan just held on for a while. When Dean cursed low against her skin she knew this has gone on for long enough.
“Are we gonna do this in the hallway? Really?” Meaghan asked and Dean pulled back, smiling mad-glad and keeping one hand fisted in Meaghan's shirt so he could drag her along, even when Meaghan wasn’t putting up any kind of fight and sort of laughing if only in shock.
Dean’s surprisingly tiny apartment was not its
usual neat and clean self. There was a bare brick wall at one end, which contrasted nicely with the yellow painted wall on the other, interspersed with bookshelves. The books were haphazardly arranged, almost as if someone had been riffling through them and not bothered to put them back in order. A few books were on the floor beneath the shelf as if they’d been dropped there by someone riffling through the shelves haphazardly enough to drop some books and not pick them up. Dean dragged her through the living room without pause, heading to his room. His usually neatly made bed was stripped, duvet trailing on the floor. Dark curtains on the windows blocked out the sunlight and the one small desk was overflowing with bottles of alcohol. A suspicious looking stain marred the beauty of the white fluffy carpet beneath the bed.
“Asshole,” Dean said and grabbed on to her again and Meaghan was up against the door of the bedroom, Dean plastered to her front and … whoa, kissing.
Meaghan thought about putting the brakes on this, because wait, hold on, that's not... they needed to talk…sort things out. Well okay she’d expected he’d want to…but there's too much desperation and Meaghan didn't mean for this to be like that. Doesn't mean this to be like that. Meaghan got a hand on Dean’s chest, feeling his heart beat trip hammering in his chest like he’s ran a marathon or is scared shitless. Is he scared shitless right now? Fuck, Meaghan felt like she’s in way over her head. She tried to push him away, to get her mouth free so she could ask but Dean made this sound, this low warning not-done-yet noise. Meaghan grabbed a handful of Dean's glossy dark soft hair and kissed him back just enough for him to lose some of the tension in his muscles and then she pushed him away none too gently. Dean's green eyes were dark, wild and half-closed when Meaghan got a peek at them. There was anger there, and fear; maybe something softer that she couldn’t exactly name…
“Why did you shut me out like that?” Dean asked.
“I didn’t know that I was. My phone died - know that sounds like a shitty asshole excuse but it also happens to be true – and I was trying to think, figure this whole thing out. Trying to understand why you would think that I would cheat on you.”
Dean blanched. He really didn't like that, fighting to get back in closer, like that was going to prove some kind of point for him Meaghan was already getting an imprint of the door handle she was backed against into her skin and Dean was plastered to her front, so tight and snug. She was not all the way sure she wasn't going to have a bruise in the shape of Dean's belt buckle. Might get his buttons too.
“Chill out,” she told Dean even though she knew it was a mistake.
“No,” Dean responded, perfectly reasonable, tone calm and sure, and pushed in closer.
Meaghan tried to squirm away from the door but Dean’s grip on her was inexorable and all she managed to do was wedge him more firmly against her. From the way he gasped at her squirming and the hard length she could feel through her jeans, she guessed that this situation needed to be defused forthwith before they could hash things out verbally.
“You smell like wine. What have you been doing? Shit, I've missed you,” Dean mumbled in between kissing licks at Meaghan’s skin and then there was the rough slide of his hips, one hand coming up to Meaghan's neck and the other pressing to the ribs on Meaghan's left side.
“Peel me off the fucking wall and I'll tell you,” Meaghan tried and Dean just huffed a quiet laugh, warm air skating Meaghan's mouth and then they're right back to kissing again, only this time Meaghan's not even trying to pretend to fight it.
She gave every bit as good as she got and Dean wasn't letting up. Meaghan started to feel like Dean was not going to be done until he had Meaghan like this right up against the goddamned door and it wasn't at all the way she'd seen this going.
“Okay, you know what?” Meaghan got out and pushed with her whole body, forcing Dean to take a step back unless he wanted to lose his balance.
Dean moved with her, still holding on to her, all easy compliance and soft stepping. Meaghan was too confused to even think about that until Dean's tongue rolled back into her mouth, slow and deep and with so much to it that she followed Dean without thought; not thinking about it at all, which was just so stupid, because Dean was so smart. And Dean was backing up so Meaghan had to step with him, keeping that golden roll going until they're at the bed and Dean was stripping her out of her jacket and no, wait, that wasn't the way this was supposed to go.
Because they do this. They try to sex their problems away and they don’t talk and so far it's worked because they’ve been keeping things very much on the surface; trying to keep things easy and fun. And now Dean wanted things that Meaghan was quite sure weren't going to be appeased with a quick and dirty fuck, or even a slow burning meandering fuck. Dean’s hands were all over her, though, so that when he pulled, she went down, landing half on top of Dean with her knees and elbows braced for impact.
Meaghan didn't have a prayer. She was truly, deeply screwed and it only got worse when Dean’s hands found their way in under her shirt and Meaghan’s legs spread for him without her conscious volition. They’d never done it like this before; in the middle of the knock down drag out they appeared to be having. He pressed his finger into her, seeking that nub of sensitivity that always turned her to soft blubbering mush when he rubbed it just right.
Meaghan tried to pull back, even with everything in her screaming at her to give in to it instead. Dean's fingers were buried deep within her working her like a guitar and he was still rolling his hips in that clever way that doesn't make things any easier. Meaghan didn't come here for this. Shit, she wasn't sure what the hell she thought she was coming here for. In hindsight she should have known. Truth be told, though, some things are what they are, solid and significant and not at all that easy to get around.
Dean was looking at her, light shining out of his eyes and a sharp edge to his smile.
“Are you going to make me ask? Beg? Really? 'Cause I will, I swear,” Dean said and Meaghan wanted to jump in right away with reassurances that she would never…the look in his eyes; did he even know how he was looking at her right now?
Dean had a wide bed, suitable for playing any games they might imagine and there was scant light playing around in the gloom of the darkened room. And Meaghan was lost. She knew from the moment she left Bain’s house to come here. She might have told herself that she wasn’t coming for this but that was not exactly the truth. Whatever craziness might come between them, they would always have this. Maybe it was because Dean was her first – and she knew no other. She didn’t know why, but every time she was in his vicinity, she felt the pull of this thing between them like sex was a drug and she was an addict. Meaghan propped herself on one elbow, chest pressed tight against Dean's, and ran her free hand up Dean's neck, over his jawbone, up his temple, light careful fingers combing slowly through Dean’s hair, pushing it out of his face. She took in the flush, the hectic light in Dean's gaze, the shadows lurking there and the dark smudge under his eyes. Clearly this thing was taking its toll. Meaghan was sorry about that. She hadn’t meant for this to happen.
“I didn't come here for this,” Meaghan tries to say. “I wanted to clear things up with you,” she continues but her voice goes deep and husky when Dean rolls his hips up again, thighs flexing and relaxing the better to strain against her and his hand so warm on Meaghan’s back.
“I know,” Dean says slowly, softly, like a promise. “I thought that was what we were doing.”
And just like Meaghan had been thinking that's sort of the problem. There were things they couldn't sex away. And Meaghan was pretty sure distrust was one of them. They needed to develop better communication skills, and the only way she knew how to do that was by actually talking. She thought that she probably shouldn't be lying on the bed on top of her boyfriend – was it really boyfriend if no-one is supposed to know they're together? - thinking about how to make good on the promises in Dean's eyes, in his voice, made with his hands. Meaghan had really just come here to make sure that Dean was
okay.
“Dean...” Meaghan tried again even though her brain felt lobotomized. Dean’s hands were so far inside her, she was pretty sure he was brushing against her womb. Why was it not his penis again?
“No. You're here. That's. It's okay. It's just … you and me.”
Meaghan wasn't sure that it was okay but she was willing to go along with it for now. They could always talk after, after all. Except that they never did. She’s tried before. Dean always cuts her off before the conversation can really get going with a kiss, or a murmured ‘it’s okay’. And she’s let it go before because it was…okay. At least she’d thought it was. But then Dean fell apart over nothing more than coffee with a colleague…clearly everything isn’t fine. Still, they could postpone talking for another hour or so right? Dean was so warm under her, so close and so good.
“Be here with me, okay?” Dean whispered against her skin.
Meaghan figured this was what it was and lowered herself enough so that her lips could touch his; lost in the sweetness, like there was even a choice to make here. Dean was languid against her just long enough for Meaghan to get lulled by it and then his hands grasped and held on and he hooked a leg behind Meaghan's knee, sliding his mouth away to talk, hot against Meaghan's skin, about exactly what he wanted her to do to him, and Meaghan knew she was going to, even when she was still shaking her head.
Dean's words send heat skating down her spine and she shivered all the way through in a way that made Dean laugh low and content when he felt it. Dean was smart enough, always smart enough. He knew what to say and how to say it. The dirtiest words he could find turned into appeals and Dean was already moving against her, the deep driven need making that too good already. Meaghan wanted him so deep inside her that he couldn't find his way out again. She wanted to tell him but she was still shy. Dean didn't have any of those restrictions. Dean told her everything he wanted, every dirty detail, while he worked on Meaghan's clothes and his own. And no matter how Meaghan tried to tug and pull and shift them, Dean stayed on his back, keeping Meaghan pressed in close but nowhere near close enough for her. When Meaghan tried to slide down his body Dean held her right where she was, long legs and strong hands and talking, all the while talking like Meaghan was not going blind from all this already.