Chapter Text
Allie couldn’t help watching him. She knew he would notice. He always did. She knew she shouldn’t be noticing either. She suggested they sleep with other people, then she chickened out at the last minute. She should have done it. She should have branched out and tried to prove to herself that she could be single. But Allie was wrong, she couldn’t be, and Dean was not making what she should and shouldn’t be doing any easier. He was too much. Too kind, too insistent, too focused on making her happy. She wasn’t used to it. She wasn’t used to not having to manage the emotions of everyone else, to manage what her actions meant for everything and everyone around her. With Dean she just was, free of expectations and impressions and comments about her chances of success. With Dean Allie was free, and the freedom to feel things she didn’t imagine possible was all too much for her.
Dean smiled as he followed her towards a table, his hand grazing her side. His fingers barely grazed the side of her hip but the merest touch of his skin on hers sent shivers through her. He did it so easily, as if he was guiding her, protecting her, healing her. Dean touched her like it was his only purpose in life. As if holding every last shred of her sanity in his hands was Dean’s hidden talent. That night at the party, before any of it even really started, or so she liked to tell herself, he’d been mesmerized by her. She’d been too afraid to ask what he’d been thinking that night, why he’d swiftly moved to dance with her, the crazy girl making a scene as Sean called her later in the evening. Dean didn’t make her feel crazy, he made her feel seen.
She circled the table Dean brought them to. Trying to keep down the smile threatening to overrun her lips. “You did a nice thing.”
“What?” Allie asked, smiling.
“Getting them back together.” - Dean
Allie shrugged, rolling her eyes. “They got themselves back together.”
“With help from you, and me.. you’re welcome” - Dean
Allie hummed in agreement.
Dean’s smile was too large, too excited. “I get it now. You love love. That’s what you said you wanted right? That night at the fire pit. So I came here to tell you. That uh, I didn’t complete the assignment.”
The pit of Allie’s stomach dropped. Dean was going to tell her it worked, he’d completed the assignment, he didn’t need her anymore. He didn’t want her anymore. She barely kept the panic off her face as she tuned back into his words. She’d missed something as his mouth moved and her thoughts spiraled, a few words, too many words.
“And I wanted to tell you, I didn’t complete the assignment and I don’t want to.” Dean’s words were too much. She was relieved. She was free. Only no she wasn’t because.
“You didn’t?” Allie’s voice wavered as she tried to compose herself. “You didn’t even think about it? But I, I almost did?”
Beau arrived with a trio of drinks and Dean didn’t release her hands. “Somebody tell me why we aren’t drinking over here.”
She watched his eyes narrow in recognition, the pain flashed through them too quickly and hurt too much. She stood, too shocked to speak, her breaths coming too quickly. “I, Johanna told me to screw some guy from a bar but I couldn’t do it. He kissed me and I felt awful and sick and I pushed him away and he tried again and I had to slap him to make him stop and I swear it didn’t mean anything.”.
Beau gulped beside her. “Oh shit.”
Dean stood frozen, as if his brain wasn’t functioning. He was something else there too, a hint of care, worry, for her, her cared about her. Didn’t he? Mustn’t he?
Her eyes caught as the ring of the door drew her attention. There, as if an omen out of her worst nightmare, was the man who kissed her last night. “Oh shit.” She pulled away from Dean slightly, her eyes widening.
“Allie is that who you?” - Beau’s eyes widened
Dean turned, his face hardening into a mask of anger and hurt. His jaw clenched as he turned back to her. “Him?”
“No, yes. Do you know him?” Allie asked.
“Dean,” Beau said, sighing. “Dean, let’s think things through—“ but Dean was already moving towards the guy, his shoulders tensing for a fight. “And he’s not thinking things through.”
“Dean!” Allie tried with Beau, but Dean walked like a man on a mission.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean asked the man from the bar, his eyes cold as ice.
“I heard your team needed saving.” The man smirked, the smug kind Allie hated, the type of expression she used to imagine Dean making before she knew him better. The kind of expression that sent a shiver of horror up Allie’s spine.
Dean’s glare could cut steel. “Ya, get the fuck out”
The man turned towards Logan and Tucker’s table. “Hey uh, Logan you said this was his idea.”
Allie didn’t think Dean could get angrier, and yet, she was somehow, horrifyingly, unequivocally, wrong. “You said what?”
Tucker’s eyes widened. “Dude, you didn’t.”
Allie watched Garret and Hannah get up from their booth. Garret entering the fray while Hannah moved to stand beside Allie. “Hey what the hell is going on here?”
Logan’s eyes gleamed bitter, like he was happy to know the inside of a joke. “Oh you weren’t there, I ah, had to make a call.”
Any semblance of calm fled from Dean’s face. “I’m not skating with this prick”
“Ow, you scared I’m gonna bust your ass again?” The man smirked again. He was far too smug for a man standing in front of a very angry Dean de Laurentis.
“You wanna try?” Dean asked, pushing him back towards the bar. “Let’s try.”
Then, to Allie’s horror, but sadly not her surprise, Dean punched the guy in the face. It was hard to tell who was hitting who and who was restraining who as the bard descended into chaos. Allie gulped, turning to Beau as Hannah asked. “Who is that guy?”
Allie nodded. “Ya, Beau who is that guy?”
Beau sighed. “That, is Hunter Davenport.”
“Why, exactly does Dean seem to hate him so much?” Hannah asked, eyeing Garret as he tried to pull Dean away from Hunter.
Beau took a long sip of his beer. “Hunter uh, fooled around with Dean’s sister Summer a couple years back, when she was still in high school. He slept with her, then dumped her.”
Oh god, Allie thought. She had kissed a guy who Dean already hated, for fooling around with his sister. Allie’s eyes widened in horror, a horrible nausea rolling in her stomach. This night was quite possibly the worst thing she could imagine. Dean was being held back by one half of the hockey team, Hunter by the other. Garret standing between the to sides trying to get them to calm down. Dean was bleeding, a small wound on his face. Allie’s stomach rolled again. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Honestly I wouldn’t blame you,” Beau mused, taking another sip of his beer before placing the glass down and rolling up his sleeves. “This situation is fucked up man.”
“You shouldn’t be stressed about this, Als,” Hannah said. “This is not your problem.
Allie clutched Beau’s arm, dizzy and hot like she stepped off a rollercoaster, her throat dry in notification. “No, guys, I think I’m gonna puke.”
“Als, you haven’t even finished your first round of shots.” Hannah’s reassurance did not however stop the awful illness within Allie. Her hand still clutching Beau’s arm Allie nearly fell over as she threw up, almost taking Beau with her.
“Oh shit!” Hannah yelled. The noise, Allie noticed as Beau steadied her, moving to hold her by the waist, had finally disrupted the fight. Garret stared at the large puddle of vomit in front of Allie for a split second before his eyes locked onto Hannah who, miraculously escaped the blast. Tucker and Logan, both of their bodies actively keeping Dean forcefully back from Hunter gulped seemingly enlisting the pure chaos of the fight. Hunter looked at her with the same smug smirk, as if he’d realized she, with Beau’s arms around her and Dean seemingly close to her, was another thing he could take from Dean. And then, as Hannah forced behind Beau t get her a glass of water from the bar, she finally glanced at Dean. Dean whose eyes were red rimmed, whose mouth was open seemingly mid shout, whose dimples were drawn down no longer in rage but in fear. Because Dean’s expression was one of such clear, pure worry that Allie almost cried.
Instead, she swayed in Beau’s arms and threw up again.
“That’s enough!” Garret shouted, Allie’s vomit seemingly the spark that calmed everything down. “You lot go back to your partying. You.” He turned to Hunter. “We will deal with tomorrow. Leave. And you.” He turned to Dean, whose gaze was still locked on Allie before he realized she should turn away and focused his attention on Garret. “We will discuss this incident, at length, at home.”
Garret clamped his hand on Dean’s back, pulling him away from Tucker and Logan, and forcing him towards the door. Hannah arrived with a glass of water. “We should leave too, Beau would you mind helping me get her back to our dorm?”
“Nope,” Beau replied, his arms still firmly around her. “Come on Allie let’s get you out of the bar filled with drunk idiots and into a dorm room surrounded by drunk idiots.”
Allie barely registered the drive home, her stomach still tied in knots, her mind replacing her conversation with Dean. As street lights flashed outside Beau’s car. A car she last sat in on the way back from Thanksgiving it’s Dean. A car that reminded her of a lengthy entertaining drive. A car that reminded her of how she wished then, in the deepest parts of herself, things would always be like.
Beau helped her up the stairs and assisted Hannah with laying her on the couch her mind still out of it. Her only moment of sanity was found when she briefly asked Hannah to go get her some tea. “That calming chamomile I like, please, and some cookies maybe? I think there’s still some leftover from the batch I made last week.”
“You want cookies after throwing up?” Hannah asked with a raised eyebrow. Beau snickered at her, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the request as he moved to follow Hannah out the door. “I know you like sugar on your periods but seriously, if you throw up more after this you’re cleaning the bathroom.”
Hannah left with Beau as Allie sat, her mind once again replaying the words and events of the night. She’d thrown up because of stress, stress and her period. Well, no, actually. Allie stood up, wobbling as horror seeped through her. She ran to the counter where Hannah left her phone and opened the calendar app, focusing on the date. The 15th of December. The 15th, five days after the 10th, when Allie usually reached the painful part of her period. The 15th, a day Allie often warns Hannah about because of how much of a crappy crazy mood she is in all day. The 15th, five days after she was supposed to start her period.
Allie swayed again as she headed Beau’s voice echoing behind the half door Hannah left ajar. “Wait, I forgot my phone, I’ll see you tomorrow Hannah.”
Allie clutched the edge of the counter as Beau opened the door, grabbed his phone from the couch and then noticed Allie’s horror stricken face. “Allie” Only Allie barely registered his movements, or anything about him really. Because Allie was too busy panicking. Because Allie was too busy replaying a single thought a single phrase, a single statement that would ruin her and Dean, ruin her, if she was right. Because Allie Hayes, aspiring actress, best friend extraordinaire, and seeming center of all drama because of course, was late. “Oh shit!”