AN: Alright, I was re-reading my 'Silver Ring' series stories and I decided I never really explained how they got together so I figured I'd do a story about how they realized their feelings and got together. This is a threeshot prequel to the 'Silver Ring' series and I hope it's good. In other news, I now have a promotional image for Wait Until Morning in my profile. It took me awhile to make and I still don't know if it's good enough. Oh, well. Enjoy the story.
Timeline: Sometime in season three.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the songs used in this story.
Written by Becks Rylynn
[1. Ruby, you feel like breathing]
hold your breath, kiss me now you'll catch my death
-natalie merchant, my skin
It will pass.
Those things - what are they called? Ah, yes. Feelings - will go away. He won't be able to get under your skin anymore, the tingling will stop. When you're around him your skin will not hum and feel hot like fire. You will not itch for him.
It will pass. It has to. Because you're not. Supposed. To. Feel.
Not supposed to feel your heart beating wildly whenever he's around you. It will pass, you think. You know it will. This feeling inside, like something's crawling. The fear, the anxiety, the lust, the hunger, the longing, the...need to rip his clothes off.
This is just not the way things are supposed to be.
leave me out with the waste, this is not what i do
-lisa flannigan, nine crimes
The first kiss was innocent.
You could see piercing green eyes growing annoyed as the scores of the game rose in your favor. You could see the intense need to win in emerald orbs, like fire in water. You couldn't let that happen, you just loved messing with him so much.
He had been concentrating on the game, on winning, you could see by the way his jaw was set and his eyes were darkened that he did not just not want to lose. He could not lose. You got the distinct impression that no one had ever beat him at his own game before. Well, you had decided, your own eyes growing fierce and determined and almost black. Things are about to change, Winchester.
Boy, were they ever.
He was just a toy to you back then as you sauntered like a predator, ready to tear him apart. He was only amusement. He was only nothing to you back then. You said his name in a whisper that threatened to turn into a sigh at any given moment. The change in his demeanor was recognizable as soon as his name left your lips in an almost whimper. He was weary (with good reason) as he stood straight and towered over you. He looked at you, half wincing, half smirking, afraid you were going to pounce. ''What, Ruby?'' He had murmured and the edge of his voice was not lost on you.
You shrugged it off and moved slowly and carefully, like some kind of animal. Like a dangerous siren. Like a demon. You hadn't even given him the chance to think let alone speak before you had crushed your lips onto his, tongue violently forcing itself into his mouth.
It was just a game. It was just supposed to throw him off, distract him long enough for you to win the game. Which you did. He was not supposed to pull you closer and wrap an arm tightly around your waist, preventing you from moving. He was not supposed to tangle his tongue in yours and take the control from your lips. He was not supposed to make you feel.
He was not supposed to kiss you back.
it's in the water, baby, it's between you and me
-placebo, post blue
The second kiss was never meant to be innocent.
It was meant to set you on fire.
You could see his dark intentions in his even darker eyes. Congratulations, it worked.
It was violent. He grabbed you in a painful lock and threw you against a wall with enough strength that a mere human would have cried out in pain. You did not. And then he had kissed you hard, shoving his tongue down your throat.
You remember now that you had been afraid. When you tried to get away he had held you tighter, you had struggled but he had effortlessly pressed his body into yours, pinning you to the wall. You were not afraid he would hurt you, he couldn't. Not physically anyways. You were afraid he would make you feel.
Eventually, however, you gave in, hands finding his hair, body melting into his. He pulled away when you moaned against his lips and you remember that his eyes had come about this close to absolutely scaring the shit out of you. Green eyes, usually so lively, so filled with everything, so easily the window to his soul, had been dark and empty. So dark they were almost black. Like the roles had been reversed.
And only two things had shone through otherwise desolate orbs.
Anger and a very animalistic, feral lust that shook you down to your core. He had looked at you for a moment, his breathing unsteady and erratic, like he could not believe what he had just done and then he had walked away.
You had to use every bit of self control not to run after him and finish what had begun.
here where we tremble at the same old thought
-pinback, how we breathe
Things are complicated now.
There are things left lying in between you and that damned (literally) Winchester. Things undiscovered and unsaid. You hate that with a passion because....because it was not supposed to be him. If anyone is ever supposed to make you feel this way, it's Sam. Not him. Fuck, anyone but him. But....
...you find no matter what you do, you cannot fight this. You can fight anything in the world, but you can't fight this. Can't fight the tingling, the itching, the feelings. Can't fight him.
He's going to kill you, he's going to send you spiraling headfirst into a black destruction, you are aware of that. But you simply don't remember how to fight against him. He's tiring, exhausting really as he contaminates your thoughts, your bloodflow, your heart, your every inch. Somehow, he's found a way to get past your walls and inside without doing a thing.
You hold your breath and wait for it to pass.
rather do without, and just hold the smile
-the fray, never say never
The door opens and you lift your eyes to his with a careless smirk as you cross one leg over the other, perched on a table doing your best Basic Instinct impression. You're fully prepared to at least pretend to be in control and converse with the Winchester brothers. But when your instincts take over and the unnatural, hell spawned part of you slips into the driver's seat, you hear what normal people can't.
Like his heart speeding up, like his breathing quickening.
You feel something unwanted rise in your chest and it's like you can't breathe. You swallow hard and tell yourself it will pass.
''Ruby,'' he greets as he shuts the door with an unnecessary loud slam. His jaw twitches in irritation and all you see in his eyes is frustraion.
''Hi,'' you manage to get out. You sound breathy, like you've just reached air after being under the surface of suffocating water. God, how pathetic.
There's a storm brewing deep inside Dean Winchester as he turns away from you and shrugs out of his jacket.
''Sam?'' You ask and you're still gasping slightly, still sputtering for air. Don't worry, it'll pass.
''Not here,'' he deadpans, starting to work the buttons on his shirt. He's going to take his shirt off, you realize with a start. A hysteric laugh grows in your chest and your throat like acid and escapes your lips before you have a chance to stop it. He turns towards you, dark eyes unamused, mouth drawn into a thin line. Unlike all the times you've encountered him, this time is different. There is no mirth, no sarcastic humor, just frustration and anger and if you look deep enough you think you might see a little fear. ''Somethin' funny?''
You swallow and have to close your eyes briefly, pushing away a rush of something a lot like lust at the sound of his deep, rumbling voice. Don'tworryit'llpass. Regaining a smidge of control, you slide off the table and in a rare and strange moment of clumsiness, you stumble. Actually, stumble. How disgustingly human.
It almost brings a smirk to his face, but he stops it before his lips curve.
''Are you hurt?'' You ask hesitantly, running your hands over your jeans in an attempt to stop them from sweating.
''Do you care?'' He snaps, bitterness finding a place in his voice so easily it startles you.
You frown and fold your arms around your middle, seemingly confident as you move and speak with grace and ease. ''You don't like me, do you?''
He freezes, goes rigid, you swear the air goes a few degrees cooler. Your own body tenses and you have to take a step back, suddenly regretting the question. Slowly, he turns to look at you and you see signs of a struggle hidden deep within green eyes. You have to wonder is he struggling because his answer is No, I don't like you or because it's Yes, I do like you. The second option terrifies you and you find yourself hoping he says No, I don't like you, you demonic bitch.
He doesn't say anything for a long time and then he looks away and heaves a heavy sigh, shoulders deflating. You feel his frustration slip away and when he finally looks at you again all you see in his eyes is weariness. ''Ruby,'' he speaks and his voice scares you a little because he just sounds so tired and lost. God, these mood swings of his are going to be the end of you. ''What do you want from me?''
You shift your weight from one foot to the other and wait for it to pass. ''I...I...I don't...I don't...''
''You don't what?!'' He bursts and you flinch, unwillingly.
Something grows inside and your eyes trip into black as you raise your head to glare. ''I don't know!'' Your voice sounds loud and you turn away, raking a shaking hand through blonde hair. ''I don't know, Dean, I don't know what we're doing here.'' There's silence, like a thousand needles and you feel like you should run but your feet won't let you. The chemicals between the two of you are about ready to explode and you can feel his own fear from across the room, mixing with your own. This is something new for both of you. This whole emotion crap. You've never liked it. Even before, when you were...someone. When you were human.
He speaks up, rudely ripping you from your reverie. ''Are you feeling this?''
The words mean more, they mean everything, you know exactly what they mean as you slowly turn to face him. You ask anyways. ''Feeling what?''
''This!'' He throws his hands up in the air and takes a step. And the thought of him being closer nearly makes you tremble. So you go back when he goes forwards. Like an instinct, like a dance. You shouldn't be surprised. All you've ever done with Dean Winchester is dance. ''Whatever this is! This...This something between us!'' He lowers his voice so it's almost a growl and his eyes pierce you like they're blades. ''Do you feel it like I do?''
You gulp and lick your lips. Don't worry, it'll pass. ''I do,'' you close your eyes and shake your head. ''It'll pass.''
He laughs, like a maniac and moves forwards. You go back. He sighs, irritated. ''For God's sake, Ruby, stop doing that!''
''Moving away from me. I'm not a fucking monster.''
Control is but a distant memory as you gaze intently at him and try to slow down your breathing. ''No,'' you say, tonelessly. ''But I am.''
He stops, like someone has pressed pause and looks at you carefully, tilting his head to the side in a movement that can only be described as demonic. You really are a bad influence on this man, aren't you? Something's about to break, you can feel it in the air. Maybe it's you, maybe it's him, maybe it's the invisible wall between you.
''I wish I believed you were a monster, Ruby,'' he whispers, looking away from you. ''It would be easier. But I...I just don't.'' He starts towards you again, moving slowly and almost like you did in that smoky bar the first night your lips met his. He's moving like a lust filled animal.
Well, if the shoe fits....
You do not move away this time, you cannot remember how. He's doing this, he's doing something, he must be.
''I can't think of you like that,'' he continues.
''I don't know why,'' you say and your whisper sounds like a plea. A plea for...what exactly? Do you want him to think of you as a monster? Maybe you do. Maybe it would be easier.
''I don't know why either.'' His voice drops to a murmur that promises danger.
''Maybe this will help.'' Blue turns black again and all you want is for these feelings to go away. ''Do you see the monster now, Dean?'' Don't worry, it'll pass.
He looks at you and then shakes his head slowly. ''Nope,'' he's close now, really close, there isn't even inches between you. You can feel heat radiating off of him and have to wonder if you feel cold compared to him. You always feel cold in the absence of the flames. ''All I see is Ruby,'' and then his lips are on your neck before you can stop him and you gasp in surprise and something else, black falling away like it was never there at all. ''You're not like the others, Ruby,'' he says and you feel like you're dying.
This is all too much.
The lust, the hunger, the need, the fear, the...everything. The feelings. You decide you don't like them and you wish for them to go away. ''It'll pass,'' you hear your unsteady voice say.
He looks at you and you can see clearly now, like a veil has been lifted. He's just as scared as you are, masking it with anger and lust. ''It'll pass?'' He asks of you, his voice daring to be hopeful.
''Yes,'' you find your arms wind around his neck and you're totally powerless to stop it. He tilts his head so his forehead is touching yours and his lips are inches away from yours. Your eyes close because you can't find the strength to keep them open. ''It will pass,'' you manage to get out, in a breathy whisper.
And then his lips meet yours and every last broken piece of fragmented control, logic and reason slips through your fingertips. The next thing you know, his tongue is in your mouth and your back is hitting the soft motel mattress. His hands move to the edge of your shirt and your hands snake towards the buckle on his jeans, shaking and fumbling nervously. But when his lips move to your neck and he says your name, you remember that you're afraid.
You remember that you're waiting for it to pass.
''N-No.'' You push him off of you and stand, swiping at your lips. ''We can't do this. I...I can't do this.'' Because you're not ready to admit that it won't pass.
''I can't either,'' he says and runs a hand through his hair. ''This is wrong.'' He stands and his eyes crinkle with darkness. ''We're wrong.''
You shouldn't feel anything at those words because he's right. Actually, you shouldn't feel anything. Peroid. But you do. You feel everything. And it sucks. ''We are.'' You nod and try not to look at him. You try to look somewhere else. Anywhere else. The stained carpet, the scratched table, the cracked ceiling. But his body is like a magnet and your eyes must be made of metal because you can't look away.
''Jesus, Ruby,'' he mutters, shakily. ''What are you doing to me?''
And then he's crossed the distance and he's kissing you again. You kiss back eagerly, even though your terrified heart and head are telling you to run. He kisses your lips and your neck and your cheeks and your every inch of you, like he can't seem to stop himself. Can't let you go. One of you, you're not sure who, starts to move towards the door.
It'll pass. Don't worry, it'll pass. It'll pass, it'll pass, it'll pass.
''You have to go,'' he mumbles against you.
You nod weakly and cling to him when your body starts to tremble. ''Have to go,'' you repeat, like it isn't getting through. ''I have to go.'' Your hand reaches behind you and grasps the doorknob. ''Dean...'' His name comes out in a breathless whisper.
''I don't want you to go.''
''I don't want to go.'' His lips are still on your skin, you're both still holding on tightly and you're sure the heat between you is making it impossible to breathe. ''I have to.''
He nods and the door opens, bitterly cold air spilling through and hitting the both of you like physical slaps. ''I know.''
''Dean...'' It comes out in a gasp, because you're having a really hard time breathing right about now. ''Wait for it to pass.''
''Right,'' he whispers, ''wait for it to pass.''
And then you're outside with your back against the door, chest heaving up and down. Your breathing is barely ragged gasps and it hangs in the cold air, little gray wisps of lust, desire and something you cannot name. He's still there, on the other side of the door. You can feel him. You don't know how, so don't ask, you just can. The world is spinning in an unfamiliar way that you do not like and there's something rising inside, like a virus. Your legs won't support you anymore, you can't stand any longer, so you slide to the ground and you swear you can feel him do the same, but maybe that is just your imagination.
Your eyes close and you feel pressure build behind blue irises. Are those tears? Your lip curls in disgust and you swallow down a scoff at the human feeling, but you let one single tear fall anyways. You don't know what to do, you don't know how to deal with these things - feelings, you have to remind yourself - inside. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be him. Not him. You don't really want to have to deal. Words cannot describe how much you wish you were cold and unfeeling like all the others right about now. But you're not like the others, you never will be and you are going to have to deal with these feelings...eventually.
For now...denial sounds good.
So you do the only thing you're ready to do.
You wait for it to pass.
(and in the night skies, within the shadows of the cold, dark, motel, they wait for it to pass....)
how stupid could i be, a simpleton could see, that you're no good for me, but you're the only one i see
-sarah mclachlan, stupid
end part one
AN: So, yeah, that's part one. I don't know how I feel about the way the lyrics are, but they fit so well with the story. The title of this chapter comes from the song Come Around by Rosi Golan. Anyways, the next part is in Dean's POV. It's the same night, only with his thoughts. I don't have a lot to say about this story besides I hope you liked it.