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As soon as Jerry opens the door, the pungent smell of herbal tea hits his nose. The wooden floor creaks, making it impossible for him to go unnoticed, and he continued to walk into the kitchen, glancing sideways at what Dean was doing, nestled on the couch. The quiet rustle of pages suggests that he is completely absorbed in reading the comic book, but Jerry feels his curious gaze on him.
He should have expected Dean to be awake at three in the morning, but not that he would be waiting for him in the living room. Jerry shuddered as if he had been doused with ice water. A soft chuckle immediately came from behind him, confirming that he was being closely watched. He didn't doubt it. Jerry tried to keep his back straight and his head held high, but didn't turn around, knowing that everything would collapse as soon as he met Dean's gaze. An incomprehensible feeling spread through his body, making him feel uncomfortable and want to escape to the bedroom, where he could hide from this penetrating gaze. But he would have to go through the living room to do that.
"Pour me some tea, Jerry," Dean's voice is sleepy and very soft. He doesn't say "please", but obviously it's just a request. Jerry could have said no. He could have said, "pour it yourself." And in the end might not have come back so late at the end of the day to avoid getting into such an awkward situation. Any of these things.
The time while the kettle is boiling on the stove seems endless. Dean is not visible from behind the door, only his feet are visible, which he put up on the armrest. Jerry carefully turns around, taking a step forward, but immediately stops. He has the urge to run into the bedroom again, but reaches the couch and sits down. Dean holds out his hands to him. Jerry looks at him blankly, but belatedly realizing what he wants from him, hands him a cup.
"Thank you," Dean lazily drawls, squeezing it in his palms.
Jerry habitually reaches out to tousle his curly hair, but freezes halfway, not daring to touch it. Blood rushes to his face and it turns red in uneven patches. Dean puts his head on his lap and fidgets, trying to find a comfortable position for himself.
Some stupid movie is on TV, and Jerry focuses on the sounds of it, trying to distract himself. Dean rolls over on his stomach and, setting the cup aside, rests his chin on his hip, swinging his legs in the air. Jerry feels that damn look again, which he used to ignore, but now he can't, feeling helpless. He had no idea that he was being watched all the time.
"Jer?"
Dean calls him again, and Jerry continues to stare at the screen.
"Can I hug you?"
"No."
Dean wraps his arms around his waist and hugs him tightly, pressing his face against his stomach.
"Dino, what are you doing?"
Dean laughs quietly, and the vibration of his laughter reverberates throughout his body, making Jerry blush. The usual little things abruptly begin to seem awkward. But only to him. Dean looks and behaves as usual.
"No, I'm not going to hug you. Calm down."
Dean makes a displeased face, and Jerry involuntarily smiles. Suddenly Dean gets up and climbs onto his lap. Jerry looks at his bare legs, not knowing where else to look. It's simply impossible to get angry. Putting his palms on his shoulders, Dean slides them down and puts Jerry's hands on his waist. Jerry doesn't resist, but he doesn't move either.
"Why?" now it seems to him that his voice is trembling.
Dean leans forward, resting his hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head. Sensual lips stretch into a wide smile, which makes Jerry blush even more. Dean moves in just an inch closer. Just an inch, and Jerry feels like oxygen stops flowing into his lungs, and his pulse is beating like crazy in his head, obscuring all background noise.
"Because I love you," Dean breathes into his lips, and Jerry squeezes his arms around his waist. He doesn't want to run away. Not anymore.