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6. A drunken kiss
she hadn’t planned on having a release party for This Is the Only Gift I Can Give You, but it feels like the right thing to do. everybody had expected one, after all, and far be it from jane to not do what people expect. she hates every moment of it; listening to stories of what a good guy dylan was when she knows the truth about him feels like having to live through their marriage all over again. every time she has to say something nice about him, her tongue tastes like she’s curled it around metal, which means she has to have another drink to rid herself of the iron in her mouth. her mind is fuzzy and overwhelmed. she has to get out.
she slips a hand into the crook of dean’s elbow at the bar and says nothing. the way that her eyes shimmer with tears should be enough, and it is; when she heads out to the patio to get some air, he’s there with her. it’s still impossible to find a single word to say that would even begin to describe how this night feels. silent, she wipes her face and finishes off her drink before turning her attention to him.
“i can’t do this,” she says finally, and then she stumbles in closer, tucking her face away into dean’s chest so that she can pretend the rest of the world isn’t happening. it already feels better, natural; him, close and familiar. her heart swells. it was always going to be this way. a love like theirs burned so brightly that even now, when it’s meant to be over, each of them still glows. he gives off little beams in the same way that squinting at the sunlight does, and she can’t bear to look away from them. these are the arms that held her through everything. here are the hands that put her back together when she thought the pieces were lost for good. and those are the lips that said i love you, i love you--
before she knows why she’s doing it, jane is on her toes, kissing him. through the delicate veil of her eyelids she sees a bright light flash, then another, and another. a voice she doesn’t recognise shouts jay! over here! and something in her clicks. they’re outside. they’re in public.
even through the haze the alcohol gives her, jane knows she’s fucked up. “wait-- d, fuck, i’m sorry.” she recoils, but knows the damage is already done. how is this going to look? how is she going to explain that at a party in her husband’s memory, she’s outside alone with an ex-boyfriend? she can already sense the wyndchester forever! sweeping through the internet, can already imagine what everybody is going to think of her. guilt sinks into the pit of her stomach and awakes a nausea she didn’t even notice was there. she’s had far too much to drink. throwing one last look to the assholes with the cameras, she takes a step back. “think-- god, i think i’m gonna fucking hurl.”











