Dean Di Laurentis x Reader-Missy
Part 1-The Library, The Game and The Party
Dean DiLaurentis had a habit of appearing exactly where he shouldn’t be. Which was unfortunate, because today happened to be the first full day that you’d managed to successfully avoid him all week.
“Missy.”
“Dean, what are you doing here?” You didn’t even bother to look up from your book, you watched as his shadow loomed across the pages of your book.
“See, that’s rude,” he said, dropping into the seat opposite you anyway. “I came all the way across campus to see you”
“Incorrect, you came all the way across campus because Garrett probably kicked you out of his room.”
“That is slander.” Dean pointed at you.
“Is it?” You hummed, finally staring up at him pointedly.
Dean was smiling. Not his usual cocky grin. The real one. He was literally grinning from ear to ear. The smile that always made your stomach do something deeply irritating.
“Ah, hello you” he said softly, acknowledging your eye contact.
You rolled your eyes and looked back down at your book before he could see the effect that smile had on you.
Unfortunately, Dean DiLaurentis had never been particularly good at taking hints.
Or reading the room.
Or leaving people alone.
Especially you.
In fact you were pretty sure that was how you had become best friends.
The chair legs scraped against the floor as he dropped his bag down to the floor.
“You’ve been avoiding me”Dean accused as he twiddled his thumbs whilst leaning back on this chair.
“No I haven’t.” You snorted.
“Y/n”
“Dean.”
“You have.”
“Three games.” Dean hummed as he continued to lean across the table.
You froze for half a second. A mistake. A very noticeable mistake.
“There it is.” Dean’s grin widened immediately.
“There what is?”
“That guilty look.”
“I don’t have a guilty look.”you protested, shaking your head violently.
“You absolutely have a guilty look.”
“Why are you counting?” You sighed heavily and finally shut your book.
“Counting what?” Dean blinked.
“The games.”
“What, The games you haven’t been at?”
“Yeah those ones, why are you keeping track?”
“I wasn’t keeping track.” Dean opened his mouth. Then closed it-he’d walked directly into that one.
“Dean.” You narrowed your eyes.
“I noticed okay y/n?!”
“You know that’s weird, right?”
“You’re weird.” Dean lifted his finger and pointed at you.
“That’s not a denial.”
“See, that’s exactly why I came over here.”
“To insult me?”
“To formally invite you to the game tonight.”Dean reached forwards to close your book, making your full attention fall on him.
“You crossed campus to invite me to a hockey game? You stared at him for a second blinking absentmindedly.
“Yes.”
“I guess chivalry isn’t so dead” You laughed despite yourself. Dean looked entirely too pleased about that. Then he nudged the toe of your shoe under the table. A stupid little habit he’d had for years.
One that made your stomach begrudgingly warm.
“So you’re coming?”
“Maybe.” You looked away first with a small shrug.
“Oh my God.” Dean groaned dramatically.
“What now?”you matched his groan with a sigh.
“‘Maybe’ isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the answer you’re getting.”
“Seven o’clock.” He stared at you for a moment. Then stood. Grabbing his backpack from the floor.
“Maybe.” You opened your book again.
“That’s the most commitment-phobic answer I’ve ever heard.” Dean started walking backward.
“Please, go as far away as possible, DiLaurentis.”
“See you tonight, Missy.” His grin flashed one last time.
You watched him disappear around the corner before dropping your forehead lightly against the edge of your book. This was exactly the problem.
Dean DiLaurentis had been your best friend for so long that sometimes you couldn’t remember a version of your life without him in it.
You’d met when you were thirteen.
An unfortunate combination of mutual boredom, poor decision-making and a complete lack of adult supervision had somehow turned into a friendship.
A friendship that had followed you through high school. Through first heartbreaks. Through family drama. Through every terrible haircut Dean had ever gotten.
Which was unfortunately quite a few.
The two of you had become inseparable. Partners in crime. Professional menaces.
If Dean was involved in something stupid, chances were you weren’t far behind. Somewhere along the way, people had stopped asking if you were dating.
Not because they thought you were but because they’d gotten tired of hearing both of you immediately say: “God, no.”
The answer had always been easy. At least for Dean. For you?
Not so much.
The problem was that somewhere between late-night phone calls and road trips and years of being his favorite person, things had gotten complicated.
At least on your end. Painfully. Pathetically. Complicated.
And Dean, being Dean, remained completely oblivious. Which was probably for the best. Dean DiLaurentis didn’t do relationships. Dean did hookups. Dean did one-night stands. Dean did names he forgot by breakfast.
And recently—
Your stomach twisted.
Recently, Dean seemed to be spending an awful lot of time with Allie Hayes. Not that you blamed him. Allie was beautiful. Funny. Smart, and of your closest friends.
If Dean was going to fall for anyone, it made sense that it’d be someone like her. Which was precisely why you’d spent the last three games finding literally anything else to do.
At six fifty-eight that evening, you found yourself walking through the doors of Briar University’s hockey arena.
Despite all your efforts to avoid him, Dean had always had a way of getting exactly what he wanted. And apparently, tonight, what Dean wanted was for you to be at his game.
The moment you stepped inside, you were hit by the familiar wall of noise.
The arena was already buzzing with energy. The sharp scrape of skates against the ice echoed beneath the roar of the crowd, while the announcer’s voice boomed overhead. Students packed the stands, dressed head to toe in Briar blue, waving signs and chanting loud enough to shake the building.
This place had become strangely familiar over the years.
You knew exactly which concession stand sold the least offensive coffee. You knew which section Garrett’s family preferred when they came to games. You knew the route Dean always took from the locker room to the ice.
You still didn’t understand the rules. Not really.
Dean had tried explaining them countless times. At this point, you were fairly certain he only kept trying out of spite.
The crowd suddenly erupted. A collective roar rolled through the arena. Your eyes instinctively found the ice.
Dean was flying down the rink.
It was like he sensed that he was being watched because seconds after your eyes fell onto him he glanced up. His gaze swept lazily across the stands before landing on you.
For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, then a boyish grin appeared. He lifted a hand from his stick and pointed toward a section several rows down.
You followed the gesture.
Hannah and Allie were both waving enthusiastically at you. It seemed as though your assigned seating had already been decided.
“Bossy Di Laurentis” you muttered under your breath with a roll of your eyes. With a resigned sigh, you made your way down the steps toward Hannah and Allie.
“Wellsy, you so owe me twenty dollars”Allie smirked over at Hannah the moment you reached them.
“Lovely to see you girls too”you offered them a sheepish smile.
“Y/n you came?!”Hannah pulled you in for a tight hug as she used her other hand to root through her pocket to hand Allie her twenty dollars.
“Don’t make a thing out of it”you jabbed the two girls in the arm before settling into your space between them.
“What?” Hannah asked innocently.
“To be fair” Allie continued “you’ve skipped the last three games. We had every reason to assume you weren’t coming.”
“Well, I’m here now”You sank lower into your seat. The conversation faded as the crowd erupted around you.
On the ice, play had resumed.
Briar was down by a goal, and judging by the expression on Coach Jensen’s face, nobody was particularly happy about it.
The opposing team stole possession near center ice, immediately driving toward Briar’s net. Collective booing rolled through the crowd.
“Come on” Hannah muttered.
The goalie blocked the shot. The puck ricocheted off the boards.
And suddenly Dean had it.
The reaction around the arena was immediate, because Dean with possession of the puck was rarely boring.
You watched as he accelerated down the ice, weaving between defenders with an ease that looked almost unfair. One player attempted to check him against the boards.
The defender tried again, Dean stole the puck back. Then, with a movement so quick you almost missed it, he passed to Garrett.
Garrett scored.
The arena exploded.
Dean threw both arms into the air before Garrett nearly tackled him into the glass. Beside you, Hannah was on her feet screaming.
You refused to acknowledge the smile pulling at your lips. The game continued like that. Fast. Relentless.
Every time Briar gained momentum, the crowd seemed to get louder. And somehow, somewhere in the middle of it all, Dean looked completely different than he had at the start of the game.
More relaxed. More confident. Like he’d finally settled into his rhythm.
“I can’t believe Dean lured me here to watch his ego be inflated”you mumbled as you leant your head against Hannah’s shoulders.
“You love him really” Hannah pointed toward the ice.
Your heart nearly sank. Hannah side eyed you before widening her eyes at you, correcting herself before Allie caught on.
“As a hockey player”
“Right.” You exhaled slowly nodding.
For a few seconds the noise was almost deafening as Briar’s players poured onto the ice, colliding with one another in celebration. The crowd remained on its feet, applause echoing throughout the arena as the team gathered near center ice.
Beside you, Hannah and Allie threw both arms into the air.
The win felt good. Really good. The kind of win that left the entire team buzzing with adrenaline.
You watched Dean from where you stood. Even from across the arena, it was easy to spot him amongst the chaos. He was grinning as Logan attempted to put him in a headlock, batting him away while Garrett doubled over laughing at whatever had just been said.
For a moment, the familiar warmth settled in your chest.
Then you remembered why you’d spent the last three games avoiding this exact situation.
The warmth disappeared just as quickly.
Without waiting for the crowd to thin out, you grabbed your bag from beneath your seat.
“You’re leaving already?” Hannah asked.
“Party starts in an hour. Figured I’d get out before traffic becomes a nightmare.”you shrugged aimlessly.
Neither Hannah nor Allie seemed particularly suspicious. Why would they be? You’d become very good at pretending.
So with one final glance toward the ice, you turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Eventually the celebration began to break apart. Players drifted toward the tunnel leading back to the locker rooms while the crowd started filing toward the exits.
Dean pulled off his helmet. Ran a hand through his damp hair. And glanced toward the stands.
Instinctively. The familiar section was already half-empty.
Hannah was still there. Allie too. But the seat between them sat vacant.
Dean stood there for a moment longer than necessary, helmet hanging loosely from his fingers as the crowd continued to pour toward the exits around him.
You always stayed.
Sometimes you would wait outside the locker rooms. Sometimes you’d find him halfway to the parking lot. It had become routine. And Dean liked routine far more than he'd ever admit.
Especially when that routine involved you.
Yet tonight you’d disappeared before the celebrations had even finished. The thought followed him all the way into the locker room.
The place was chaos. Music blasted from someone's speaker while Logan stood on a bench passionately retelling the final goal to anybody willing to listen. Tucker was arguing with him. Garrett was laughing. Coach Jensen was attempting to give a speech and being ignored by at least half the team.
Normally Dean would've been right in the middle of it.
Instead, he found himself dropping onto the bench in front of his locker and pulling out his phone.
Nothing. No texts. No notifications. No sarcastic commentary. Dean tossed the phone onto the bench, immediately picking it back up again.
You were allowed to have a life. You were allowed to leave early. You were allowed to go a few hours without speaking to him. But that didn't stop the irritation from settling somewhere beneath his ribs.
This wasn't really just about tonight.
Three missed games. Replies that used to take minutes now taking hours. Plans you would suddenly become too busy for. Conversations cut short. Excuses.
The more Dean thought about it, the less he liked it.
"Earth to Dean” a voice rang out before a towel hit him square in the face.
“You good?” Across the room Logan was grinning.
“Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I just scored the winning goal, of course I’m fine”
“Yeah.” Logan hopped down from the bench.
“Which is why it’s weird that you look like somebody just ran over your dog.” Logan wandered closer.
For a few seconds Dean debated on keeping his mouth shut. Then—
“Hey.”
“Yeah bro?” Logan looked up.
Dean hesitated. The question felt stupid. Which should’ve been enough reason not to ask it. Instead he found himself saying,
“Do you know what’s up with Missy?”
“Y/N?” Logan blinked.
“There is no other Missy, so yes Logan. Y/N.” Dean stared at him.
“She seems fine to me” Logan shrugged.
“Well she isn’t” Dean let out a short laugh. One completely lacking humor. The certainty in his own voice surprised him. It surprised Logan too.
“How do you know?” Logan’s eyebrows immediately shot upward.
Dean opened his mouth. Then paused. Because how exactly was he supposed to explain it?
How was he supposed to explain that Y/N had been acting differently for weeks and he couldn’t stop noticing every single little change?
“I just know”Dean settled for that.
“When we went for coffee yesterday she seemed okay." Logan studied him for a second. Then shrugged. The words landed with far more force than they should have.
"You went for coffee with Y/N?" Dean stared.
"Uh... yeah." Logan immediately looked confused.
The irritation that sat low in Dean’s soul sharpened.
You were friends with Logan. You were friends with everybody. There was absolutely nothing strange about the two of you spending time together. So why hadn't you mentioned it?
"When?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.
"Yesterday."
Yesterday. Interesting. Because yesterday Dean had texted you. Twice. And six hours later you had responded with a single word.
Busy. Apparently not that busy.
Logan continued talking, completely oblivious to the fact Dean was no longer listening.
Something about a paper. Something about class. Something about how you had helped him finish an assignment he'd been avoiding for weeks.
Dean's jaw tightened slightly and he found himself reaching for his phone the second Logan wandered off, before he could talk himself out of it, his thumbs were already moving.
‘Where'd you disappear to?’
Dean stared at the message. Read it once. Then again. It looked harmless enough. Casual. The kind of thing a friend would send. Still, something about it felt embarrassing.
With a frustrated sigh, he hit send.
The message disappeared. Delivered immediately. Dean dropped his phone onto the bench.
There. Done. Problem solved. Now you would reply with some smartass response. Maybe you’d tell him to mind his business. Maybe you would accuse him of being clingy.
At this point he'd take any of the above.
He got no response. No typing bubble. Dean looked at his phone again. Then immediately hated himself for looking. Because now he was waiting. And Dean DiLaurentis did not wait for people.
-
The hockey house was already crowded by the time Dean arrived.
Music spilled through the speakers, shaking the walls as people filtered through the front door carrying drinks and stories from the game. Everywhere he looked somebody was laughing, shouting, or recounting the final goal as though they personally deserved credit for it.
Normally Dean loved nights like this. Tonight, he couldn’t seem to settle. He’d told himself it was the adrenaline from the game.
All he knew was that every time the front door opened, his eyes drifted toward it before he could stop them.
The first few times he didn’t notice himself doing it and by the seventh, he absolutely did. Which only irritated him further.
The thought had crossed his mind when the front door swung open again. Dean looked up automatically.
For a brief moment, everything else seemed to blur into the background. The music. The conversation. The movement of people crossing through the room.
You stood in the doorway shrugging off your coat, your hair slightly windswept from the cold outside, your makeup still perfect like you had only just done it.
Immediately something inside him relaxed, just enough that the strange tension he’d been carrying around since the arena loosened slightly.
Your eyes met across the room. Only for a second. Long enough for recognition to flicker across your face. Long enough for Dean to think that you were heading his way.
Then your gaze shifted. Past him and towards Allie. Dean followed the look automatically.
Allie was standing beside him, laughing at something Garrett had just said. When Dean looked back, You had already turnt away.
The brief smile you’d offered him had disappeared. And instead of crossing the room toward him like you normally would’ve, you headed in the opposite direction.
Dean frowned.
He watched you weave through the crowd before stopping beside Logan. The two of you exchanged a quick hug. Logan said something. You laughed.
And for reasons Dean couldn’t explain, the sight bothered him far more than it should have.
Watching the way you smiled. Watching the way Logan leaned against the wall while you talked. It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.
The memory of the locker room conversation resurfaced immediately. “When we went for coffee yesterday she seemed okay”
Dean’s jaw tightened.
Across the room, Logan said something else which made you nod and grin, suddenly Dean found himself wondering whether you’d laughed like that over coffee.
The thought landed badly.
Far worse than it should have. For the first time in his life, Dean found himself considering something he’d never really considered before.
You with someone else.
Not Logan specifically. Just someone. Some guy taking you out to dinner. Some guy learning all the little things Dean already knew by heart.
He hated it. Immediately.
Not because he wanted to date you. At least he didn’t think so.
The idea just felt so wrong, and at this point Dean was really confused. It was like imagining Garrett playing for another team.
Like imagining a future that didn’t quite make sense. For years you had occupied a place in Dean’s life that nobody else touched.
Nobody else even came close. He’d never questioned it. Never thought about it. Never had a reason to.
Until now.
Dean dragged a hand down his face and looked away. Maybe he was overthinking it. Actually, he was definitely overthinking it.
The problem was that knowing that didn’t make the feeling disappear.
You lingered on the dance floor , fingers tightening around the strap of your bag as you took everything in.
Across the room Dean was now laughing at something Allie had said while Allie shook her head, smiling to herself. They stood close enough that it was obvious they were comfortable around one another, comfortable in the easy way that only came from spending time together.
You felt foolish because there was nobody to be angry at. Nobody to blame. Allie wasn't stealing Dean. Dean wasn't doing anything wrong.
The simple truth was that Dean was Dean. Dean slept with people. The entire campus knew it.
You had spent weeks piecing together enough evidence to convince herself you’d figured it out. The late nights.
The way Allie occasionally disappeared from parties around the same time Dean did. The looks. The familiarity between them.
The fact that Dean seemed to gravitate toward Allie without even realizing it. It wasn't exactly difficult math.
As far as you were concerned, the answer had been obvious for a while now.
They were sleeping together.
Maybe it was casual. Maybe it wasn't. Either way, it didn't really matter. The result was the same.
Dean wasn't yours. He never had been.
That was the part you kept trying to remind herself whenever you caught your thoughts drifting somewhere dangerous. Dean had never made you any promises. He’d never led you on. He’d never looked at you and offered you anything beyond the friendship that you already shared.
The problem was that friendship with Dean had always felt like too much and not enough all at once because Dean occupied every important corner of your life whether he meant to or not.
He was the first person you called when something good happened. The first person you wanted to tell when something went wrong. He was woven into nearly every memory you had from the last several years, somehow managing to be present for every milestone, every disaster.
Sometimes you thought that Dean knew you better than you knew yourself.
Sometimes you thought that were the problem.
You couldn’t seem to stop yourself from noticing how they looked standing beside one another. You couldn’t stop comparing yourself to Allie, despite knowing how unfair that was.
Allie was beautiful. Effortlessly so. It was the kind of beautiful that made people turn their heads without even realizing they’d done it. Allie was also insanely kind.
God, that was the worst part.
If Allie had been awful to you, you could have blamed her. Instead you loved her. Which meant the jealousy had nowhere to go except inward.
So you smiled, you laughed when Logan said something funny.
You let yourself be pulled into conversations and accepted the drinks that were handed to you whilst pretending that you weren’t painfully aware of Dean’s existence from the opposite side of the room.
It was a skill you’d developed recently. Pretending that you were perfectly happy being his friend. You didn’t want to avoid Dean, but you really believed that it was for the best.
Perhaps you were simply getting tired of carrying feelings that had nowhere to go.
Some habits were harder to break than others.
And loving Dean DiLaurentis, it seemed, was one of them.
“Thought you weren’t coming anyway” Logan laughed.
“I thought about not coming.” You accepted the drink Logan handed you before leaning against the kitchen counter beside him.
“What’s been going on, you seem really distant”
“Oh God. It’s spreading, not you too.” You groaned.
“No seriously, are you okay?” Logan took a sip from his drink.
“Perfectly fine” you lied, throwing your arms into the air with a burst of energy as you backed away to the crowd attempting to avoid any more questions.
-
An hour had gone by and Dean tried to focus on the conversations happening around him. He tried listening to whatever ridiculous story Garrett was telling and even attempted to pay attention when Tucker started arguing with Logan over something neither of them actually cared about.
It didn’t work.
Every few minutes his attention drifted back across the room. Not deliberately. Not in a way he could control.
You simply seemed to exist at the edge of his awareness no matter where you went.
At some point you abandoned the kitchen and joined a group in the living room. Half an hour later he caught sight of you sitting cross-legged on the arm of a sofa, laughing so hard at something Hannah had said that you nearly dropped her drink. Later you disappeared into the backyard before eventually reappearing with a fresh cup in your hand and an increasingly noticeable flush colouring your cheeks.
Dean found himself watching the progression despite himself.
The first drink had relaxed you. The second had made you louder. By the third, you’d started talking with your hands. Liquid courage you called it.
It wasn’t until you almost walked directly into a coffee table while looking over your shoulder at Allie that Dean realized he’d unconsciously taken a step forward.
The movement stopped as soon as it started. Nobody else seemed to notice. Dean certainly pretended not to.
Still, he remained where he was until you regained your balance and continued on your way completely unharmed. Only then did he relax.
You were a grown woman. You did not require supervision. Yet every time you disappeared from view for too long, his eyes automatically searched the room until he found you again.
It had always been that way. Dean just hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe he’d never had a reason to.
Because until recently, you had never felt so far away while standing in the same room.
As the night wore on, that distance seemed to grow rather than shrink. Every time your paths threatened to cross, you veered elsewhere. Every time Dean considered walking over, somebody interrupted.
By midnight, Dean was beginning to suspect he was losing his mind.
Across the house, You were beginning to suspect the exact same thing.
The alcohol had taken the sharpest edge off your thoughts, but unfortunately it hadn’t done much to improve your judgment.
Dean was standing near the dining room talking to Allie.
Again. Just existing together in that easy, comfortable way that somehow felt worse. You looked away before either of them could notice.
“Nope” you hiccuped to yourself.
A trip to the bathroom suddenly seemed like an excellent idea.
-
Unfortunately, half the female population of Briar appeared to have had the same thought.
The queue stretched down the hallway. You groaned dramatically before taking your place at the back.
This was a cruel and unusual punishment. The line barely moved.
By the time your reached the middle of it, you were leaning against the wall and contemplating whether jumping out of a window would somehow be faster.
That was when you looked up and immediately froze.
Dean. Of course.
The universe had decided that you hadn’t suffered enough for one evening.
He was standing at the opposite end of the hallway talking to somebody from the team. His attention wasn’t on you.
The smart thing would have been to stay standing where you were. Instead, you did what you’d been doing for weeks.
You turned around and tried to escape.
Unfortunately for you, Dean chose that exact moment to look up.
Your eyes met. For a split second neither of you moved, abruptly you looked away and started walking in the opposite direction.
Dean stared after you, his confusion lasted approximately two seconds before his brain took over.
Oh you were not going to pull a fast one on him. Not tonight.
You had almost reached the corner when a hand closed gently around yours.
Not enough to hurt. Not enough to stop you by force, it was just enough to make you turn around.
Surprise flashed across your face.
Dean ran a hand through his hair and finally asked the question that had been bothering him for weeks.
“Where the fuck have you been, Missy?”
You blinked at him.
Then glanced toward the bathroom queue that you had just abandoned.
Then back at Dean.
“The bathroom queue.”
“That’s your answer?” Dean stared and you stared right back.
“It’s a very accurate answer.”
“Y/N.”
“Dean.” The pitch of your voice wobbled slightly before getting higher as you spoke making you kick yourself mentally at the weakness of it all.
“Do you ever get tired of being a pain in my ass?”his tone dropped low, his voice becoming rough and you swore you noticed a hint of desperation.
“No, actually.” Your expression brightened immediately. “Thank you for asking”
Dean didn’t let go of your hand. That should have been your first warning.
His fingers tightened around yours and he turned, weaving through the crowd like he’d already decided this conversation was happening whether you agreed to it or not.
You stumbled after him.
“Dean—”
Nothing.
“Dean.”
Still nothing. You looked down at where his hand was wrapped around yours, then back up at the broad line of his shoulders.
“Dean Di Laurentis.”
“Y/N.”
“Where are we going?” you demanded as he pulled you around a group of people crowded around the kitchen island. “I still need the toilet.”
"You'll see."
"That's not remotely comforting."
Dean ignored you and continued weaving through the crowded house, Around you, the party continued in full force. Music pounded through the walls while voices overlapped in every direction, the further you moved from the center of the house, the quieter it became.
A moment later he stopped in front of a plain white door tucked away near the back of the house. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a key.
"Absolutely not." You blinked, then looked at the key, your eyes flickering over to him a second later.
"Absolutely yes." A smug expression immediately appeared on Dean's face.
"There is a secret bathroom?"
"It isn't secret."
"It has a key."
Dean unlocked the door and stepped aside. The sight that greeted you nearly brought tears to your eyes.
An empty bathroom. No queue. No waiting. No strangers pounding on the door every thirty seconds asking how much longer you were going to be.
"Go to the bathroom Missy”he gestured towards the bathroom.
"You are the greatest man I've ever known."
Left alone in the hallway, Dean leaned back against the wall and exhaled slowly.
For the first time all night, there were no distractions. No teammates demanding his attention. No music loud enough to drown out his thoughts. No crowd separating him from the conversation he'd been trying to have for weeks.
Just silence.
Several minutes later the door opened again.
You stepped back into the hallway looking significantly less irritated with the world.
"Life-changing experience?" Dean asked.
"Honestly? A spiritual awakening." A small smile pulled at the corner of your mouth.
"You're welcome."
"Thank you."
The words came easily. Too easily.
And the second they were spoken, the silence returned.
Only this time it felt different. Heavier.
Because now there was nothing left to distract either of you from the fact that Dean hadn't dragged you halfway across the house because he was concerned about bathroom logistics.
And judging by the look in his eyes, You were beginning to realise that too.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck before looking at you.
“You walked into the party and immediately disappeared again.”
“Uh-Sorry I just really wanted a drink, it’s been a long day”you defended yourself by lying.
“With Logan?” The question slipped out before Dean could stop it.
“With Logan? wha- A lot of people were drinking with Logan.” Your eyebrows rose and you scrunched up your nose in confusion.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No?”
“No.”
The conversation stalled for a moment before Dean shook his head and started over.
“What is going on with you lately”
You looked away for a moment. The movement was subtle, but Dean caught it anyway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s bullshit.” The words came out sharper than he’d intended.
“Excuse me?” Your head snapped back toward him.
“You heard me” Dean dragged a hand through his hair, already frustrated by the fact that he sounded frustrated.
“I’ve been texting you, calling you, trying to reach out to you”he exhaled heavily, trying to gather his thoughts.
“Dea-
Dean’s expression softened immediately.
“Have I done something to upset you Missy, I’m sor-
“No, of course not Dean- everything is fine”you shook your head. You started to feel bad, it wasn’t his fault.
“No.” The certainty in his voice made her chest ache.
“It’s normal, Dean.”
“What is?”
“Sometimes there’s just a lot going on in life.” You forced yourself to meet his eyes. The words felt rehearsed because you’d spent weeks repeating them to yourself.
“People drift apart.”
For a moment Dean simply stared at you. Then he shook his head. Slowly. Firmly. Like the very idea made him feel sick.
“That’s not normal for us and I don’t want it to become normal” He stepped forward slightly. Dean wasn't entirely sure why he felt so strongly about it.
For years you’d been one of the few constants in his life. that. Now you were standing in front of him talking as though your friendship was something temporary.
Your expression faltered slightly.
"I don't understand what's happening," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "A few months ago everything was fine."
The second the words left his mouth, You almost laughed. A few months ago. Right.
"Whatever it is" Dean continued, "tell me."
You looked away. Immediately. Because you couldn't. That was the problem. The hallway suddenly felt much smaller than it had a minute ago.
“Are you dating someone?”
The question caught you so off guard that you actually laughed. A short, startled sound.
“What?”
“Are you?”
“No.” The answer came a little too quickly. You groaned and looked toward the ceiling as though divine intervention might somehow save you from this conversation.
Unfortunately, it did not. Dean took another step closer.
“Then why have you been avoiding me like the plague?”
“Are we still friends?”he added quickly, his eyes widening.
The question landed softly. So softly that it took you a second to process it. The vulnerability in his voice caught you completely off guard. Dean rarely admitted when something mattered enough to scare him.
“Yes.” Your voice came out quieter this time.
“Yes, we’re still friends, Dean.”you repeated, your gaze dropping to the floor. Friends.
The word settled heavily between you. Dean’s jaw tightened. Not because he didn’t believe you. Because deep down it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Oh my God.”
Both of you looked up. Allie Hayes stood at the end of the hallway holding two red cups and looking personally offended.
You immediately straightened. Dean pushed himself off the wall.
“There you are.”
“Allie.”You greeted her with a lazy smile.
“Don’t ‘Allie’ me.” She pointed at both of you.
“I have been looking for you idiots for like ten minutes.”
“Why?” Dean frowned.
“Because everyone is looking for you guys.” Allie looked at you as if you were the dumbest person she’d ever met.
“Why is everyone looking for us?” You blinked.
“Because we’re playing a game.”
“Allie, now is not the time for ga-” Dean warned.
“Dean” Allie mocked right back, interrupting his protests.
“Whatever game you’re about to force us into—”
“Too late.”
“—I don’t want—”
“Too late.”
“This is how dictatorships start to happen.” You pointed at her.
“All dictators wish they had this level of authority.” Allie shoved both of you toward the living room.
“This conversation is far from over.” Dean slowed beside you. Close enough that only you could hear him. His shoulder brushed yours. His voice dropped low.
Naturally, you responded with the maturity of a twelve-year-old.
“Oh, goodie”you clapped sarcastically as you rolled your eyes.
