Fear Itself

I knocked on Dean’s front door, only to be answered with a shout of, “It’s unlocked!” Considering this an invitation, I quietly entered, closing the door behind me and making sure that I wasn’t tracking anything in on my boots. I was always very careful of this because it occurred to me that Dean had very nice carpets, and so did my father; my father didn’t like it much when I got mud on the carpets, and I had a feeling that Dean wouldn’t appreciate it either.

Winston was the first to greet me, immediately raced up, panting and tail-wagging. “Hello there!” I cooed to the dog, rubbing his head. “I’ve got something for you!” He looked confused and watched me as I took my bag off and reached into it. When I pulled the dog toy out, he stared at me for a moment. “Take it,” I said, extending it to him. He took it slowly at first, but one his teeth clenched down and the toy squeaked, I could tell he was in heaven. Chuckling softly, I rose to my feet just as Winston plopped down on the floor and started chewing the life out of that poor chew toy. Before I could take a few steps in, Dean rounded the corner and met me with a grin. He scooped me up in a hug and kissed me before I could greet him.

“Sorry that I’m a little late,” I told him with a sheepish grin when our lips parted. He shook his head as he set back down against the floor.

“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re right on time, Blondie.” He just watched me for a moment, smiling, and I grinned up at him just before he seemed to come out of his daze. “Anyway, Chandler left something for you. It’s on my bed, so I’ll let you get to that.” It was only when he walked away that I noticed he was dressed up. I suddenly felt horrendously underdressed, but I pressed on toward his bedroom, and my eyes fell upon a black garment bag laying on the bed. This was what Chandler must have left me, I reasoned, since I didn’t think Dean had any reason to own or use a garment bag.

I could hear Dean shuffling around somewhere, doing whatever it was that he was doing, I wasn’t sure what, hadn’t the time to ask him before he had rushed off either. I unzipped the bag, brimming with curiosity at what could have been inside. The open zipper revealed a flash of sparkling blue, and when opened all the way, that flash of blue became a dress. I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face when I saw it. That’s how beautiful it was. I carefully took that entire hanger out of the bag and examined it. Attached to the front of the dress as a small, green sticky note on the fabric that read: ‘Congratulations on your first custom dress. Make sure you brag for me. There’s more where this came from. Love, Chandler.’

My assumption was that I was supposed to put this on now, and even if that wasn’t the case, I wanted to. I stepped back and nudged the door shut before I shed myself the dress, cardigan, scarf, and hat I wore on the way here. I unlaced my boots and toed them off for a moment, then stopped to examine myself in the mirror and admire Chandler’s previous ‘work’: in the form of a three-piece lingerie set, colored ‘lilac snow,’ equipped with a bra, panties, and a garter belt, all decorated with lace and tiny rhinestones. When I first tried it on in the store, I hadn’t been entirely sold, but now that I was standing in front of Dean’s mirror, I couldn’t help but notice (and admire) the obvious change in the shape of my normally below-average chest.

Pleased, I reached for the dress, unzipped the small zipper on the back, and pulled it over my head. I tossed my hair out of the way to reach back and close it, then stood there in awe at what Chandler had made me. It was a deep blue color, just the perfect shade to make my eyes pop (which I’m sure he did on purpose), and upon closer inspection, it wasn’t just sparkly: it was lined with tiny embroidered details and sequins, which from afar must have created a glittery look. It streamlined my figure, falling to the middle of my thighs, accenting every curve, and the fluted sleeves draped over my arms and created a look of elegance that I wasn’t really used to. I had never worn a dress so nice before.

I looked into the garment bag again and found a few other things: a pair of sparkly, silver ballet flats and a shiny, silver cuff, both of which I put on and stopped to marvel. Last, there was comb with tiny crystal flowers and silver branches adorning it. In front of the mirror, I combed it through the left side of my hair and left it, pinning that side back as I tossed the rest over my shoulder. I felt pretty pleased about this. I would have to thank Chandler profusely for his gift, I thought. Then, I remembered that Dean was probably waiting for me, so I quickly folded my clothes and left them on the garment bag. I figured we would take care of that later, so I left the room and walked down the hallway and out into the living room, where Dean was sitting on the couch. “Hey,” I said softly, smiling. When his eyes fell upon me, he literally stopped and stared, and I couldn’t help but grin. “How do I look?” I asked him, tucking my arms behind my back and twisting around a little.

“You look amazing,” he told me, and a gentle smile crossed his face. He rose to his feet and walked over. His arms wrapped around me. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he added, and we both laughed quietly before he leaned down and kissed me. “So, what do you say we get going then?”

“We’re going somewhere? Where?” I asked, blinking.

“That’s a surprise,” he laughed and kissed my forehead. “Come on. Let’s get you a coat.” I nodded as he took my hand in his and led me over to the hall closet.

“But Muscles,” I huffed as he reached into the hall closet. “I don’t like surprises very much.” He sputtered a laugh, scoffing, and handed me a coat.

“Well, Blondie, that’s just too bad,” he laughed. He slid his coat on, and it fit him perfectly. When I slid mine on, it hung off me, but I buttoned it anyway. Once we were set, Dean took my hand again and took me outside to the driveway. There was a shiny, red car parked there. I wasn’t used to seeing a car in his driveway. Perhaps he locked them in the garage. I couldn’t blame him. My father often did the same, even though they lived in the better half of London.

“Wow, nice car,” I commented, laughing in awe.

“I know,” he said, pulling keys from his pocket. He pressed a button, and while we approached, the doors began to open, but they didn’t open sideways, they opened upwards, and I stopped dead in my tracks, almost tried to turn around, but he grabbed me, laughing.

“How did you do that!?” I shrieked. He just kept laughing. “Why do they open like that, Muscles?!” He just kept dragging me to the car, even though I kept trying to pedal backward. At one point, he just picked me up, so I kicked my feet instead. “I’m not getting in that metal deathtrap, you can’t make me!” I proclaimed, squirming in his grasp.

“Blondie, it’s not gonna eat you,” he laughed. He set me back on my feet just by the passenger side and brushed my hair out of my face. “You are going to be just fine, I promise,” he assured me, grinning still.

“You promise?” I asked.

“I promise,” he repeated. “Now, get in.” So I did, and so did he, and for a moment, I was too distracted by watching the car doors close to notice anything else, so when the car greeted him in a computerized, female voice, I was caught entirely off-guard.

“Good evening, Dean,” it said, and I squeaked, threw my hand over my mouth, and pressed myself back against the seat. “I cannot identify your friend. Who is with you?”

“Good evening, Siri,” he said, laughing at my reaction. “This is Tali.”

“Good evening, Tali,” Siri addressed me. “Do you have any questions?” For a moment, I just stared at the glowing console in the center of the car: grey with a white apple logo in the center.

“What… what are you?” I sputtered. Dean just kept laughing, but I could tell he was trying to stifle it.

“I am an intelligent, virtual personal assistant,” the machine explained. “I have access to every function of the car, can also send phone calls and text messages, I can schedule meetings, run facial recognitions on passengers, and much more, but you don’t need to know any keywords or commands. I fully understand natural speech. All you need to do is ask me, and if I need more information to complete a task, I will ask for it.”

“Wow,” I laughed in awe, leaning toward, virtually unaware that Dean had even started driving. “You are amazing.”

“Thank you, Tali,” Siri said. “Dean, it appears you are driving. Is there anything you would like me to do?”

“No, Siri,” he responded. “We’re alright.”

“Very well. Let me know if you need anything,” she said, and the screen was replaced by a desktop of sorts, a background full of small icons in the shape of rounded squares. I craned my neck to look at them, absolutely enthralled with all of it. There were a lot of buttons. One for maps, one for mail, for reminders, for sports, for phone, for weather, for almost anything I could imagine. I pressed the orange button with a music note on it, and Siri began to speak again. “Would you like your installed library or radio?” she asked.

“Ooh, let’s try radio, Siri. That’d be lovely,” I told her. Sound began to flood through the speakers, and it was nothing like I had ever heard. It was very upbeat, very happy, but I didn’t hear any synth. I heard some bells and a man with a very smooth voice; he was singing about a reindeer with a red nose. I squealed a little. “Wow, this is fantastic!” I exclaimed. “Muscles what is this?”

“Christmas music,” he explained with a laugh.

“Wow, it’s brilliant!” We continued on that drive for about forty-five minutes, listening to Christmas music, while I asked Dean all about all the songs and his car and about Siri. I discovered that he had heated seats, which was really nice, and that the chairs could massage your back if you asked Siri for it. I was so astounded, I almost didn’t want to get out of the car. We eventually came off of the main road, and everything around was covered with snow. As we rounded a bend, a lake came into view, and just past the lake was a castle. I couldn’t keep myself from gasping. “A castle!” I exclaimed with awe. “Wow, I knew they were still around.” I leaned against the window, staring up at it and taking in how beautiful everything was.

“Yeah, that’s where we’re staying tonight,” Dean told me as he pulled up to the entrance. I gasped.

“Really?!”

“Really,” he chuckled. The car doors opened, and I stepped out slowly as I looked around. A man in a polished uniform rushed around to Dean.

“I’ll take your keys, Mr. Cassidy,” the man said. Dean thanked him, and I watched as I wondered how the man knew Dean’s name without even having to ask, but this continued even as we walked in.

“Here’s your room key, Mr. Cassidy,” said the receptionist when she handed him a car. He thanked her too, leading me with an arm wrapped around my waist. People passed us, whispering or staring. We came to a large room with lots and lots of tables and people there. It was a little darker, there was a bar on the far left, and all the people seated were eating and laughing. As soon as we approached the wooden podium, a man in a vest was grabbing us large, laminated things, menus, I thought, much like the delivery menus Dean showed me before, but these were much more official and important.

“This way, Mr. Cassidy. Your table is ready,” the man said with a smile before leading us off to the back of the room, in a corner just lit enough that we could really only see the people nearby. It was a table enclosed in a wraparound booth with shiny, vinyl cushions. The man set the menus down and added, “Someone will be right with you.”

Dean sat, so I followed suit, and we both shrugged our coats off. I looked around the table with curiosity, and I saw two glasses of water already there, waiting for us. “How did they know I wanted water?” I asked, looking at Dean with a look of absolute surprise on my face. He looked at me for a moment as though he didn’t know if I was being serious or not, but then another man in a vest came up to us with a pad of paper in his hand.

“Good evening, my name is David, I’ll be your server tonight.” I didn’t mean to stare him funny, truthfully. I was just very confused. He averted his gaze to Dean. “Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

Blinking, my eyes went back to the glass of water in front of me. “You mean, I can get something else besides water?” I asked, slowly looking up at the waiter who really didn’t seem to know how to respond to my question.

Fighting laughter, Dean interjected, “A bottle of Château Pomeaux would be great. Thank you.” The waiter walked away, and Dean was laughing quietly, he hugged me, squeezing tight. “Oh, Blondie,” he chuckled. “You can get anything you want, okay? You just need to ask him.” I nodded, and Dean pulled away just a little, but left one arm around me. “Here,” he said gently as he handed me a menu. “Look through that, and pick out what you want. If you have any questions, you can ask me.”

I took the thing in my hands and examined the front for a moment, but my eyes fell upon the silverware set on the table. “Muscles,” I asked very quietly, reaching a bit to tug on his shirt. “Psst.”

“Yes, Blondie?” he chuckled softly, turning his head to me. I leaned in very close to ear, wanting to whisper because people were already staring, and I didn’t want them to hear me.

“Why do I have so many forks and spoons? Don’t I only need one of each?” I asked, and he just grinned.

“No, no,” he told me, still quiet. “See, they give you two of each for soup, salad, and then the other courses.”

“But how do I know which one to use first?”

“Just work from the outside in, Blondie,” he explained. He turned his head and kissed my cheek. “Or just use whichever one you think looks nicer. No one will care.”

“Kay,” I said, smiling pleasantly as I finally opened the menu to look, but then came more confusion: how to make sense of the thing. After a moment or so, I managed to process the fact that meals were served in courses, and the end there were numbers. Prices. I frowned. “Muscles, these are all really expensive,” I murmured sadly.

“I know that,” he said, unaffected, looking at his own menu.

“No, but… but Muscles,” I said. “I don’t have any money.” Dean turned his head to me, looking confused, perhaps even a little sad for a moment, but something must have dawned on him. His face softened up, and he smiled.

“Blondie, did you really think I was going to let you pay?” he asked. A grin cracked through his smile, his arm tugged me closer, and he kissed my forehead. “This is my treat. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you,” I told him quietly, smiling up at him, and leaning to quickly kiss him on the lips.

The waiter came back shortly after with a small contraption that held a bucket of ice that he sat by the table. He popped the cork out of the bottle in his hands and poured the liquid, deep and red, into both of our glasses. He closed the bottle and set it in the bucket of ice. “Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?” he asked.

Dean looked at me and leaned in, whispering quietly, “Do you need some time?” I smiled and shook my head. “No, I believe we’re ready,” he said, turning back to the waiter. We both ordered, and I extended the waiter thanks, quite profusely, because I knew that putting up with me was probably not normal for him. Dean reached forward and grabbed his glass, sipping from it. I did the same, and I continued, even though it tasted very bitter at first, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it; Dean liked it, so I thought I should at least try.

I set the glass back against the table, and I brushed my fingers over his tie, gently resting my head against his shoulder to look up at him. “I didn’t get to tell you how good you look,” I told him, grinning. He looked back to me, raising an eyebrow with a bit of a smirk.

“You know, I’m supposed to tell you how good you look,” he chuckled. “That’s usually how this works.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” I told him. “You look good too. You deserve to know.” A smile crossed his face, and he looked away from me for just a moment.

“Thanks, Blondie,” he said, running a hand over my cheek as he leaned down to kiss me. I grinned up at him while our faces were still close, but a basket on the table caught my eye, and curiosity took over. I shifted and leaned forward. I nearly gasped when I saw it: rolls. I took one in my hand and held it up to show Dean.

“Bread!” I exclaimed. “They have bread! I know what to do with this! I understand this!” Dean stared at me incredulously before he sputtered out a laugh.

“You understand bread?” he asked mockingly, but I didn’t catch that at first.

I happily split the roll in half and spread butter on it, and I proceeded to take a bite out of it. I didn’t quite bother to swallow before I said, “See?” Then, I swallowed. “I know what to do with it.” Dean laughed

“Very good, Blondie,” he told me, grinning, as he ran a hand through my hair and leaned over to kiss my forehead.

“Thanks, Muscles,” I giggled before continuing to munch on my roll, absolutely content to just sit there and eat bread all night because I knew what to do it with and didn’t totally feel like an idiot.

Dean kept me close, sipping on his wine. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he commented quietly, laughing and looking at me. I nodded quickly.

“Yes, I am,” I told him. “Very much so.”

“Good,” he replied with a tiny smile. We stayed like that for a little, not too long, because soon the first dish came out, and that soon encompassed both my attention and my growling stomach. Another glass of wine later, the next course was out, and Dean still kept me tucked close at his side, letting all of the restaurant know that I was with him, that we were together, and that he wanted me there. It was a good feeling.

By the time dessert came out, I was barely focused on the food, just his face really. If I hadn’t thought it was impossible to physically be an closer to him, then I was wrong. We took turns trying each others’ desserts, paying no attention to anybody surrounding. They didn’t matter. Even after our plates were cleared, we stayed there for a little, drinking wine (which was finally starting to taste good), and quietly joking with each other, pressed close, smiling softly, gazes unwavering. Just quiet, calm, happy.

As the waiter passed again, Dean asked him for the check. I barely remembered paying. I was anticipating the fact that soon we’d be headed for our room, alone for the rest of the evening. Once the money was exchanged, we left the restaurant hand in hand, sharing quiet laughs and flirty glances all the way to the elevator.

We stepped into the thing, looked like nothing more than a box with lots of shiny panels and railings around the walls (didn’t know why an elevator needed railings though). Dean hit the button for the top floor, and as soon as the door closed, his arms looped around my waist a tugged me toward him. “C’mere you,” he laughed softly, leaning down and kissing me deep and hard. My arms slide up his chest and over his shoulders while his hands seemed to roam wherever they pleased.

He held me tight, at least until a ding sounded. He withdrew abruptly but kept an arm locked around my waist when we exited without a word. There was maybe one person that passed us; there weren’t many rooms here. We got to the door, and Dean swiped the key through the lock. I didn’t have much time to look around the room. It seemed that the second the door clicked shut, Dean had picked me up and pressed my back against the wall, resuming what we had started in the elevator. I giggled and hummed as we kissed, unsure of whether or not I was just very excited or if I was feeling the after-effects of the wine.

Somehow, with my eyes closed, I managed to tug his tie loose and throw it on the carpet. When he broke to kiss my neck, I took my time to breathe. His lips sucked at my throat as my fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. We’d never been ones to necessarily take our time, but it had never felt this hurried. I didn’t recall ever wanting him so badly or needing him so urgently, but I was feeling it now, and I knew that his shirt needed to come off. Now.

He dropped his hands from under my legs and let me stand. First, he helped me with his shirt, and that came off, but I barely had time to admire the chest I loved so much because his fingers were prying at the zipper of my dress, soon tugging it over my head, but when he dropped it, he was distracted. His free hand settled on my hip, and he was staring. “Blondie, what is this?” he asked, sounding rather pleased if you asked me. I smiled coyly at him and laughed softly.

“Merry Christmas, Muscles,” I told him, biting my lower lip playfully. He laughed low and deep in his throat before he leaned down to bite softly at my collarbone. He hummed a little.

“Merry Christmas, indeed,” he mused breathlessly before he picked me up again, tossing me against the bed. Soon enough, those pretty undergarments Chandler and I had spent so long picking out ended up on the floor, and Dean gladly had his way with me more than once (not that I was complaining about that at all). Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, we entangled ourselves under the sheets, worn out and exhausted, but giddy nonetheless. Sweaty, perhaps, but more than satisfied.

We laid in bed, close, skin against skin, drinking more wine and munching on the plate of Christmas cookies that had been left on the nightstand prior to our arrival. “I’m hungry,” Dean announced, stretching and wrapping an arm around me, pulling me even closer to his chest. I laughed and hugged him tight as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get some more food, yeah?” I nodded and rested my head against his chest as he reached in the drawer of the nightstand, taking out another piece of laminated paper, another menu.

I shifted a bit so I could see it to, and I furrowed my brows. “Wow, there’s delivery here too?” I asked, and Dean laughed.

“Yeah, Blondie. Called room service,” he explained. So we did that. We laid there, and laughed, and ate, and kissed until we eventually both dozed off, exhausted and drunk on wine and happiness.