Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-09-27 01:07 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2007-09-27 01:07 pm
Dean/Calleigh - Two Jerks Playing with Matches
Fandom: Supernatural/CSI: Miami
Title: Two Jerks Playing with Matches
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Characters: Dean Winchester/Calleigh Duquesne
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_cd_mix Prompt: Braille - Regina Spektor
7_crossovers Prompt: 4. Bittersweet
Content Warning: Spoilers through the end of the current seasons (5 for Miami and 2 for SPN), Character Death.
Summary: Calleigh gets an unexpected visit from an old friend.
Author's Note: This isn't part of my initial Dean/Calleigh AU, but it came to me in a flash, and I decided to write it. This is also a bit cliche, but I really like it, so there.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural or CSI: Miami. They're owned by CBS and the CW. I also don't own the lyrics, they were written by the amazing Regina Spektor. However, all original characters are mine, so please do not borrow them without my permission.
And it was raining cats and dogs out side of her window
And she knew they were destined to become sacred road kill on the way
And she was listening to the sound of heavens shaking
Thinking about puddles, puddles and mistakes
Now it's turpentine and patches
Now it's cold, cold Campbell's from the can
They were just two jerks playing with matches
Cause that's all they knew how to play
She knew exactly when the hellhounds got him.
She’s not sure how she knew, but it was like a deep punch to the gut at midnight on the night of his last day. It hadn’t been long after he left her, an hour, maybe two, and then it happened, enough to force her to double over and cling to the side of her bed as she tried to get up and sit somewhere a bit more comfortable. She couldn’t though, and just let herself drop to the floor next to her the footboard and let her eyes wander to the rain falling down the windows, letting the thunder shake the room around her.
Dean should have never come back to Miami.
They hadn’t seen each other in years, not since she was back home in New Orleans. Someone had sent John Winchester her father’s way on a hunt, and he had sent Dean to check it out. She wasn’t stupid—she knew what was out there, and so did her father. Dean seemed to have a problem focusing on the hunt though, because she couldn’t get him to stop flirting with her. While she liked the attention, she wasn’t interested—not really. Dean was just a kid then. He had no idea what he was doing in that respect.
He wasn’t a kid anymore. And she didn’t know what made him think of her in the first place, a woman from his past who she had shot down more times than he could count. But for some reason he was there, in front of her. He made small talk at first, letting her pour him a cup of coffee, before the situation they were in came out. Calleigh was a bit shocked at first, as was expected, but she let it go, just giving them a smile, and making a small joke, before saying she was going to refill the coffee.
She didn’t understand how he could be so stupid. No one ever thought that Dean would be the kind of guy to make a deal with the devil, and when she got the reason why, Calleigh couldn’t say she was surprised. Everyone thought he was going to get out of it though. No one thought he would actually have to hold up his end of the deal, but when it came down to that final day, and neither of them had the answer yet—Dean must have decided to make sure he didn’t have any regrets. Or maybe that she didn’t, she wasn’t sure which.
She had finished pouring the coffee back into the cups when she looked up and saw him standing there a telltale smirk on his face.
“So, Calleigh—how ‘bout granting a dying man his last request?”
“If you think you’re ‘dying’ is going to give you what you want, I think you’re going to be sorely mistaken, Dean,” she began, trying to keep the unevenness out of her voice and keep herself calm. He couldn’t see that she was upset about this. If he saw that he’d us it, and then she’d most definitely be doing something she regrets.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, giving her a look. “And you know it.”
“Dean—” she began, shaking her head. “—what are you doing here?”
It was his last day. He should have been out driving in that damned car of his and he wasn’t. Instead he had landed at her front door, soaking wet, and all she could do was stare back at him, asking him what he wanted here. Aside from the obvious. Because, while she wanted the obvious too—she knew there was something more to it.
He didn’t say anything in response to the question, turning away from her for a minute, and she watched him. She studied his face, trying to whittle her way into his head and figure out what the hell he was thinking, but that was always something that had been near to impossible. She just waited, the silence stretching out almost infinitely until he finally took a few steps forward and pulled her against him, kissing her hard. It was something she had been expecting to happen for years, but never thought he would have to go through with it like this. She was to surprised to do anything more than kiss him back, but once she regained herself, it didn’t stop her from melting into him.
“Dean?” she began, the beginnings of protest in her voice, but not enough to stop him from doing it again. There was just a hint of “please” reaching her ears before his mouth connected with hers again, and she was lost in the moment, knowing this was only going to hurt her more in the end, but not really caring at this point.
This wasn’t how she pictured this happening. And, yes, she had pictured it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered this happening—he was Dean Winchester for crying out loud, any woman who had ever passed him on the street would consider doing what she was about to do, and she was a woman after all. But she wasn’t going to be another conquest for him. Even though subconsciously she knew that she never would be, Calleigh wasn’t that kind of girl anyway. She would wait until Dean knew what he wanted. And when he was ready—which was probably going to be never, but he had always told her she was better off that way—she would be, too.
She was certain there wasn’t a shot in hell of them making it to her bedroom as well, but they managed to swing that too, dropping damp clothes in piles along the way, and soon it was calloused hands on smooth skin with taught muscles under her fingers, and she couldn’t think about anything else. Not that it would be the last time or the only time, just of the fact that he was here in her bed, and she should enjoy it while he was. Because regardless of whether he would live or die tomorrow, Dean was the kind of guy who was always gone in the morning without a goodbye. That was just the easier way to roll.
But this time he didn’t leave without goodbye. He didn’t exactly wake her up, either, but he did say goodbye. She was half-asleep when there was the kiss on her cheek, and a murmured “thank you” in her ear, and then he was gone, clothes and all. She just laid there for a while, trying to figure out whether or not she should just accept that she did something she shouldn’t have and just let it go, or blame it on him. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that it had happened. When that heavy punch to the gut came, all she had left to do was cry for the man she had lost—friend or otherwise—and try and start over again.
Although, after all the heartbreak she’d already been through, she wasn’t sure she still wanted to try.
Title: Two Jerks Playing with Matches
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Characters: Dean Winchester/Calleigh Duquesne
fic_cd_mix Prompt: Braille - Regina Spektor7_crossovers Prompt: 4. BittersweetContent Warning: Spoilers through the end of the current seasons (5 for Miami and 2 for SPN), Character Death.
Summary: Calleigh gets an unexpected visit from an old friend.
Author's Note: This isn't part of my initial Dean/Calleigh AU, but it came to me in a flash, and I decided to write it. This is also a bit cliche, but I really like it, so there.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Supernatural or CSI: Miami. They're owned by CBS and the CW. I also don't own the lyrics, they were written by the amazing Regina Spektor. However, all original characters are mine, so please do not borrow them without my permission.
And it was raining cats and dogs out side of her window
And she knew they were destined to become sacred road kill on the way
And she was listening to the sound of heavens shaking
Thinking about puddles, puddles and mistakes
Now it's turpentine and patches
Now it's cold, cold Campbell's from the can
They were just two jerks playing with matches
Cause that's all they knew how to play
She knew exactly when the hellhounds got him.
She’s not sure how she knew, but it was like a deep punch to the gut at midnight on the night of his last day. It hadn’t been long after he left her, an hour, maybe two, and then it happened, enough to force her to double over and cling to the side of her bed as she tried to get up and sit somewhere a bit more comfortable. She couldn’t though, and just let herself drop to the floor next to her the footboard and let her eyes wander to the rain falling down the windows, letting the thunder shake the room around her.
Dean should have never come back to Miami.
They hadn’t seen each other in years, not since she was back home in New Orleans. Someone had sent John Winchester her father’s way on a hunt, and he had sent Dean to check it out. She wasn’t stupid—she knew what was out there, and so did her father. Dean seemed to have a problem focusing on the hunt though, because she couldn’t get him to stop flirting with her. While she liked the attention, she wasn’t interested—not really. Dean was just a kid then. He had no idea what he was doing in that respect.
He wasn’t a kid anymore. And she didn’t know what made him think of her in the first place, a woman from his past who she had shot down more times than he could count. But for some reason he was there, in front of her. He made small talk at first, letting her pour him a cup of coffee, before the situation they were in came out. Calleigh was a bit shocked at first, as was expected, but she let it go, just giving them a smile, and making a small joke, before saying she was going to refill the coffee.
She didn’t understand how he could be so stupid. No one ever thought that Dean would be the kind of guy to make a deal with the devil, and when she got the reason why, Calleigh couldn’t say she was surprised. Everyone thought he was going to get out of it though. No one thought he would actually have to hold up his end of the deal, but when it came down to that final day, and neither of them had the answer yet—Dean must have decided to make sure he didn’t have any regrets. Or maybe that she didn’t, she wasn’t sure which.
She had finished pouring the coffee back into the cups when she looked up and saw him standing there a telltale smirk on his face.
“So, Calleigh—how ‘bout granting a dying man his last request?”
“If you think you’re ‘dying’ is going to give you what you want, I think you’re going to be sorely mistaken, Dean,” she began, trying to keep the unevenness out of her voice and keep herself calm. He couldn’t see that she was upset about this. If he saw that he’d us it, and then she’d most definitely be doing something she regrets.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, giving her a look. “And you know it.”
“Dean—” she began, shaking her head. “—what are you doing here?”
It was his last day. He should have been out driving in that damned car of his and he wasn’t. Instead he had landed at her front door, soaking wet, and all she could do was stare back at him, asking him what he wanted here. Aside from the obvious. Because, while she wanted the obvious too—she knew there was something more to it.
He didn’t say anything in response to the question, turning away from her for a minute, and she watched him. She studied his face, trying to whittle her way into his head and figure out what the hell he was thinking, but that was always something that had been near to impossible. She just waited, the silence stretching out almost infinitely until he finally took a few steps forward and pulled her against him, kissing her hard. It was something she had been expecting to happen for years, but never thought he would have to go through with it like this. She was to surprised to do anything more than kiss him back, but once she regained herself, it didn’t stop her from melting into him.
“Dean?” she began, the beginnings of protest in her voice, but not enough to stop him from doing it again. There was just a hint of “please” reaching her ears before his mouth connected with hers again, and she was lost in the moment, knowing this was only going to hurt her more in the end, but not really caring at this point.
This wasn’t how she pictured this happening. And, yes, she had pictured it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered this happening—he was Dean Winchester for crying out loud, any woman who had ever passed him on the street would consider doing what she was about to do, and she was a woman after all. But she wasn’t going to be another conquest for him. Even though subconsciously she knew that she never would be, Calleigh wasn’t that kind of girl anyway. She would wait until Dean knew what he wanted. And when he was ready—which was probably going to be never, but he had always told her she was better off that way—she would be, too.
She was certain there wasn’t a shot in hell of them making it to her bedroom as well, but they managed to swing that too, dropping damp clothes in piles along the way, and soon it was calloused hands on smooth skin with taught muscles under her fingers, and she couldn’t think about anything else. Not that it would be the last time or the only time, just of the fact that he was here in her bed, and she should enjoy it while he was. Because regardless of whether he would live or die tomorrow, Dean was the kind of guy who was always gone in the morning without a goodbye. That was just the easier way to roll.
But this time he didn’t leave without goodbye. He didn’t exactly wake her up, either, but he did say goodbye. She was half-asleep when there was the kiss on her cheek, and a murmured “thank you” in her ear, and then he was gone, clothes and all. She just laid there for a while, trying to figure out whether or not she should just accept that she did something she shouldn’t have and just let it go, or blame it on him. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that it had happened. When that heavy punch to the gut came, all she had left to do was cry for the man she had lost—friend or otherwise—and try and start over again.
Although, after all the heartbreak she’d already been through, she wasn’t sure she still wanted to try.