When time stands stil...

Dean narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher what I was getting at.

"So do you…" said Dean, very, very slowly. He wiped away the tear drops that flowed down my cheeks.

"You know what I mean," I said wrinkling my nose. Dean licked his full lips, eying me. I remembered the way he had kissed me in the hallway. They had been so soft. The corner of his lips turned up and his eyes danced. "I am doing it again, aren't I?" I shook my head and rolled my eyes, unable to stop smiling through my tears.

"Mhhh," he said, and both of his hands glided down the back of my torso. My whole body shivered. The sensation had me moving even closer to him.

"That is much better," approved Dean while he dragged his finger across my smile. Dean seemed to study my face. "Are you referring to the fact that you are a couple of years older than me," questioned Dean with a hint of smile.

It looked like he found it amusing, I did not. "Dean I am nine years older than you!" I said a little too loud! He did not look impressed. "Eight years," corrected Dean. "And five months," he added.

I laughed and then I caught on to something. "Wait, when is your birthday?" I asked him. "October 7th," he answered simply. I started counting in my head and Dean's grin grew wider. "How did you know my birthday was in May?" I uttered ,thrown off balance.

"I know a lot of things," he wiggled with his eyebrows. "Those eyes," he smirked. I shot him a look and Dean started laughing out loud. I shook my head. "What?!" I muttered.

"But in all seriousness," said Dean, and straightened out his face. "You are worried about the age difference, I suppose," he said

"Yes, no. Yes, I guess" I rattled on. "That, but not only that," I sighed.

"You are young, you need to go downstair and have a good party, live life to the max. I am a momma, and I am proud of that. You are young and I am…" I trailed off.

"You are a mother," stated Dean. "Yes," I breathed.

Dean cupped my face and looked at me. He wiped away the remaining tears and kissed the crown of my head. It was quiet for a while.

"We haven't finished our conversation, but I hardly feel, with all that has happened, that it's a good time right now," Dean seemed to think out loud. "Our conversation?" I repeated him, not knowing what he meant.

"Yes, about what you want form me," noted Dean. "Oh," I breathed, looking at my feet again.

"Dean, listen. I am not good for you. I am broken. The only thing that is left of me are bits and pieces," I told him. "I have way too much baggage for a young guy like you." I sighed.

Dean opened his mouth, wanting to interrupt me. I put my finger on his mouth, hushing him.

"The boys are being carried out of their bed right now… I have to file a restraining order against Mason… " I sought for the right words.

He seemed to get nervous, fidgeting with my dress. "It will be selfish of me, to tell you what I want from you," I said and that was the truth.

"And you don't find it relevant what it is that I want?" hypothesized Dean.

"For heaven's sake… how can the both of us really know what we want from each other?" I said feeling stressed. "I mean.." I sighed. "I hardly know you, although I have met you two years ago, we never had a real conversation before this week," I pouted my lips stubbornly.

Dean made a face, I ignored that. "You have to acknowledge that this, " he said as he tilted my chin up and brushed his nose against mine. My breathing spiked in my throat. "This is…" he trailed off, leaning in.

I wanted him to kiss me. I toyed with his shirt, pulling him even closer. Our bodies were now lined up together. Dean playfully took my upper lip in his mouth and gently sucked on it. I grabbed his neck, wanting more and tangled my fingers in his hair.

Like earlier, I felt him smile against my lips. I groaned a little when I thought he took too long to kiss me, like I wanted him to. Dean noticed that and chuckled.

"Admit it," said Dean in utter confidence. "Admit what?" I panted. "You don't want me to go downstairs… you want me to stay here and kiss you." His voice sounded husky. The smell of him was hypnotic beyond any reason.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice thick with longing. "I'll admit that it sounds incredibly alluring," I said hoarse. His hair felt soft against my fingers.

"Mhh.." he teased me, still not kissing me. His eyes were dancing again. "Please," I pleaded, bringing my lips against his. "Princess, my attention and affection will never be something you have to beg for," Dean said and claimed my lips.

When his lips met mine, it felt like time stopped altogether. I could only focus on how he felt against me, addictively invading all my senses.

"I shouldn't," I finally said and broke part from him. Both out of breath, we gazed at each other.

I carefully pecked his lips and put space between us. "I need to sleep," I told him. "It is still early for you, so… But I have to go to sleep," I said again.

"You want to sleep without me," observed Dean. He seemed disheartened. I bit my lip. "I think that will be best," I lied.

"Alright," he simply said. Dean stroke his fingers through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. His hair looked messy, but that was probably more my fault than his.

"Shoot," I muttered. "What…" questioned Dean with narrowed eyes. "I uhm… I have nothing to sleep in," I noted. "Well… that can be fixed," said Dean walking out of the bathroom. I followed him into the bedroom.

Dean walked to his closet and took out one of his sweaters. "Here you go," he offered me a grey sweater. It would probably look like a dress on me. "I believe it would look better on you than it does on me," Dean said sheepishly and then his smile vanished.

He kissed my forehead and walked to the door. "Dean," I called after him. Dean turned around and when our gazes met, it was like the room was on fire. I swallowed.

"This is your bedroom," I reminded him. "I will be in the next room," he said. "It is empty anyway…" he shrugged. I could hear that he was not really thrilled about sleeping there, but I thought it would be best.

"Good night," I finally said.