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The house is weirdly quiet for a Friday night, or as quiet as it can be with Logan and Tucker standing in front of the TV arguing over Xbox and Garrett yelling from the kitchen, putting his two scents in. Dean is sitting on the couch barely paying attention because Allie is standing with Hannah, dressed in boots, jeans, and a top that makes his brain go briefly and inconveniently blank.
Don’t look again, keep your head straight.
That’s the thing he keeps reminding himself. He can’t keep looking at her because nobody knew about him and Allie. Nobody knew about the nights they’ve spent together, nobody knew about the multiple lipstick stains she’s left on his skin and clothes, or the way his chest still does something inconvenient every time she walks into the room. Nobody knew…
Nobody knew except Beau, who is currently next to him on the couch, slouched down with a bored expression on his face.
When he’s done yelling at his friends, Garrett pulls Hannah close to say goodbye, his arm loose around her waist while she teases him for looking at her like she’s leaving for war instead of going out for drinks.
“It’s only a few hours,” she promises him. “You’ll survive.”
Garrett frowns and mumbles, “Barely.”
Allie giggles and it makes the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand up.
“Don’t worry, hockey man, I’ve been taking care of her a lot longer than you have, she’ll be fine.”
“Why isn’t he going with you?” Beau asks from over his shoulder.
“It’s girls night,” Allie answers and Beau suddenly sits up and turns toward the kitchen.
“Can I come?”
Dean’s head snaps toward him, his brows pulled together in confusion.
Hannah turns slowly, already shaking her head. “No.”
Beau pouts. “You didn’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t need to, it’s girls night.”
Beau looks mildly offended by that, like the concept of girls’ night has been invented specifically to exclude him. “I can be honorary.”
Allie laughs, and Dean tries very hard not to smile at the sound, but it’s impossible. He hates that a little bit, how quickly she gets to him without even trying.
“No.”
“I’m fun.”
“You are large,” Hannah corrects. “That’s different.”
Beau sits up with a smile. “Large can be helpful.”
Allie leans down onto the kitchen island and Dean’s eyes instantly move over the curve of her ass.
“Actually, that might not be the worst idea.”
Dean’s eyes flick up to hers before he can stop himself.
Hannah blinks. “You want Beau to come?”
“I mean…” Allie’s mouth twitches before she shrugs. “It might be nice to have him there, you’ll be able to drink and you know, people won’t bother us.”
Beau spread his arms wide. “Exactly, emotional support bouncer.”
Allie looks to him with a small smile.
“Absolutely not what I said.”
“Pretty close,” Beau winks.
“It was not close.”
Hannah laughs, leaning back against Garrett. “No body’s going to bother me. Everyone knows I’m Garrett’s girlfriend.”
Garrett smirks, wrapping his arms around Hannah’s waist. “Damn straight.”
Allie’s expression changes so fast, Dean almost laughs… almost.
But then he realizes that while they’ll be out, Hannah will be safe, and Allie will be thrown into the den of wolves.
“No,” Allie shakes her head and stands, her voice horrified.
Hannah’s grin widens. “Yes, it’s your turn, babe.”
Dean once again looks back as Garrett asks, “What turn?”
Hannah smiles. “Whenever we went out before, Sean always came, which meant people knew Allie was in a relationship, so I was the one that was bothered. Now, it’s her turn!”
Dean’s fingers tighten around the neck of his beer bottle and Beau looks at him with a smirk.
Dean keeps his face neutral, even as his stomach twists at the thought of some guy leaning too close to her, smiling at her, buying her drinks, trying to touch her arm. He knows he has no right to be jealous, no right at all… they aren’t together, there is no commitment between them, they aren’t even anything that made sense out loud.
Still… the thought burns.
Allie continues to stare at Hannah for a quick second longer before she turns toward Beau with wide, dramatic desperation. “Beau.”
Beau pushes himself up with a huge smile and hops over the back of the couch.
“I’m coming.”
Hannah watches Allie in shock as she walks over to Beau and grabs his sleeve.
“You’re DD.” Allie tells him then turns and points at Hannah. “You’re drinking.”
Beau looks smug as he yanks up his jacket and throws it on, while Hannah just shakes her head in defeat and Garrett looks amused. Dean says absolutely nothing, because if he opens his mouth, there is a very real chance he’ll say something stupid like good, or take care of her, or I swear to God, if some guy touches her, call me.
So he keeps quiet.
As they leave, Allie looks over her shoulder, and her eyes find Dean’s for half a second. It’s nothing, a tiny look, barely long enough to mean anything.
But it still feels like it means everything.
When they are gone, Garrett walks into the living room and sinks down onto the couch with a sigh. “Honestly? Him going actually makes me feel better.”
Logan snorts. “Yeah because if some drunk idiot tries something, Beau’ll just silently appear behind him like a haunted refrigerator.”
Tucker laughs. “Accurate.”
“Yeah,” Dean says as he stares at the door a moment longer, listening to the muffled laughter disappear outside.
Garrett glances over at him. “What?”
Looking back toward Garrett, he shrugs, “Nothing.”
He takes a slow sip of his beer, his gaze moving back to the TV and stays quiet, but inside, he’s extremely relieved.
Dean tries to have a normal night. He plays Xbox, drinks a few beers, and pretends he’s not wondering what Allie is doing every five minutes. Then he catches Garrett looking at Instagram on his phone, clicking on what he assumes is Hannah’s story and watching the video.
Damn it, Dean thinks as Garrett turns down the volume on the video.
Standing, he walks to the kitchen to get himself another beer, then when he walks back into the living room, he sits on the chair instead of the couch, because it was comfortable…
Not because it makes hiding what he’s looking at on his phone easier.
He swipes on his phone, opening Instagram and the first image he’s hit with is a picture Allie posted of her outfit for the night.
She’s so fucking gorgeous.
Dean double taps on the picture—it’s the only way he can show her support publicly and he’ll take it.
Next, he checks his DMs. There were a few from the guys, a few from some of the puck bunnies, but the one he cared about the most was Allie. He had watched her story earlier of her getting ready and she was mouthing the lyrics ‘you better drop to yo’ knees and bark like you want it’. She looked so incredibly sexy, he couldn’t help but respond.
Woof.
She wrote back a tongue sticking out emoji.
Smirking, his eyes move up to their previous messages. He had posted a story of himself after a workout and she responded telling him to come over, he responded back, ‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes’.
That was a fun night.
Clicking out of their messages, he finds his next target, Hannah’s stories. It starts with pictures of her and Garrett, which, even Dean has to admit, are kind of adorable. Then he hits the jack pot, videos of the start of their night. It starts with Hannah laughing in the back of Beau’s car with Allie next to her, she’s saying something, but he can’t hear it because his volume is down and he curses.
Dean locks his phone and stands, mumbling something about being tired. Nobody argues, but Garrett does throw him a mildly suspicious look before he goes back to texting Hannah. In his room, Dean drops onto his bed and turns the volume up on his phone before he brings Hannah’s story back up.
Allie and Hannah’s laugh fill his ears, the two girls laughing hard, leaning into each other.
“He’s our bodyguard for the night!”
“Emotional support bouncer!” Allie corrects.
Then Hannah swings the camera around to show Beau driving with a wide smile. When the video ends, another pops up of Hannah and Allie still in the back of Beau’s jeep, singing what Dean can only assume is a song from a musical before Hannah turns the camera again to see Beau singing along while he taps away on the steering wheel.
“Ridiculous,” Dean mumbles to himself with a shake of his head.
The next is a picture of the three of them—Hannah, Allie, and Beau—leaning against Beau’s jeep, Beau with his arms wrapped around both girls shoulders and a gif that says ‘girls night’ above them.
Dean laughs at that one and reacts with a laughing emoji.
There are more after that, a blurry cheers video between Allie and Hannah, a video of Allie and Beau dancing—badly—next to their table, and a picture of Allie laughing at something off camera with her whole face lit up and relaxed in a way Dean rarely gets to see.
He screenshots that picture and saves it to his hidden photo album along with all the others that he has.
He likes seeing her happy, that’s all it is, simple… the complicated part is how badly he wants to be the reason for it.
Dean’s just about to close Instagram when he sees Beau’s story appear, and he taps it without thinking. As soon as the picture loads, the good feeling in his chest disappears. In the picture, Beau is standing by a table, rolling his eyes with a smile tugging at his mouth, with Allie tucked into his chest, laughing so hard her face is half-hidden against his hoodie. One of her hands is gripped in the fabric near his ribs, like she needed something to hold onto.
Dean knows there is nothing happening there.
He knows it with complete certainty. Beau is his best friend, Beau knows about him and Allie, Beau offered to be a human shield just so Allie could save herself from being hit on all night…
But still, Dean stares at the picture for a little too long.
Then he responds privately to the photo before he can talk himself out of it.
That’s a little too close.
The second he sends it, he drops his phone onto his chest, brings his hands to his face and groans.
Cool. Very casual. Very mature.
A few minutes pass before he gets the notification of Beau responding to the DM.
She’s laughing because I told her I didn’t want to hear any more about how good of a kisser you are.
Dean goes still and the corner of his mouth lifts. He reads it again, because apparently, he hates himself and also wants to feel like this forever.
She said that?
Beau’s answer comes almost immediately.
For twenty minutes.
Dean laughs, pressing his hand over his mouth even though there’s nobody there to hear him.
Another message appears.
I know things about your mouth that I never wanted to know.
Dean shakes his head, still smiling.
Shut up.
His brow furrows when a picture appears and he clicks on it. It’s Allie, leaning down to her drink, with the straw in her mouth, and winking at the camera.
Please date her soon so I can stop being involved in this nonsense.
Dean doesn’t answer that one, he simply saves the photo and lets the phone rest against his chest. The night feels different, now. Softer at the edges, not tense, because while he’s not sure what he and Allie are, he feels better knowing that she’s at the bar with his best friend, talking about him.
A little while later, Dean’s still lying on his bed, his phone held out above him as he reads an article on the NHL draft when a notification appears at the top of his screen.
Hannah Wells is live.
Dean clicks it so fast, he doesn’t even pretend there was a decision involved.
The live opens on Hannah’s face—flushed and grinning—the music around her loud enough that Dean has to turn his volume back down.
“Hi,” Hannah says, waving at the screen. “Aww, Garrett’s here, hi babe!” Dean rolls his eyes even as he smiles. “Oh, Dean, too!”
He hears Beau snort and his eyes narrow.
Dean will definitely be having a talk with his best friend later.
“Okay!” Hannah giggles, before she places her phone down and her and Beau move slightly into the frame. Hannah then picks up her pina colada glass and holds it like a microphone. “We are reporting to you live from O’Maley’s this evening, I gotta say Maxwell, I’m impressed with your defense tonight. You’ve come up against a lot of competition and not once have you fumbled the ball.”
Dean’s brow pulls together as Beau also lifts his soda up like a microphone and nods.
“Thank you, Wellsy, I have to say, I can’t take all the credit, the offence here just isn’t putting in the effort.” Beau turns ever so slightly to look behind him. “For example, lets watch this male subject approaching.”
Dean sits up at that and his jaw tightens.
When Hannah moves to the side, his eyes move around until he notices what they are looking at—Allie standing at the bar, possibly waiting for her drink, completely unaware that a guy in a gray shirt is standing next to her, eyeing her backside.
“The offense takes the slow approach, making sure their target, Ms. Allie Hayes, feels comfortable enough to have her back to the crowd. Not a bad plan, from first glance. But that all depends on his next approach.”
The comments are exploding so quickly, Dean can’t read them all.
NOT THE SPORTS COMMENTARY
WELLSY AND BEAU HOSTING A DATING SHOW?
RUN ALLIE RUN!
On screen, the guy in the gray shirt moves closer to Allie’s side and leans in to say something to her.
“Ohhh,” Beau winces, with a shake of his head. “Too much lean, I don’t think that’s going to work out very well for him, Wellsy.”
“Way too much lean, you hate to see it.” Hannah nods seriously. “The confidence is there, but the execution is sloppy.”
“Christ, Wellsy,” Dean huffs out a laugh.
“Let’s see how she handles it, shall we?” Beau asks.
Allie smiles at the guy, gives a little nod, before she turns back to the bar.
“The cold shoulder!” Hannah cries out. “What a move, Hayes used it earlier, but will it work out for her now?”
The comments section is cackling, but Dean, is no longer laughing.
What the fuck did she mean she used it earlier?
Beau hums at Wellsy’s observation with a nod before turning back to the bar. The guy leans in again and Dean throws his legs over the side of his bed getting ready to do… he’s not exactly sure.
Allie shakes her head and points to the bartender, before she once again looks away.
Hannah keeps narrating, delighted. “Looks like we got a stubborn one tonight folks.”
Beau then places his soda on the table and starts to bounce on his feet. He rolls his shoulders once, tilts his head from left to right, then completely deadpan, says, “Tap me in, coach!”
Dean laughs despite himself, he can’t help it. Even pissed off, even jealous, even currently contemplating how fast he can get to the bar if necessary, that gets him.
Beau is hilarious.
Hannah nearly drops her drink from laughing so hard and taps him on the shoulder, “You’re up, champ.”
Dean watches as Beau moves to the bar without rushing, but with enough purpose that Dean feels something unclench inside him.
Hannah leans in to whisper into the phone, “And the defender enters the play.”
When Beau reaches Allie, he slides an arm around her shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world and looks down at the guy with a lazy, unimpressed stare.
The guy backs off almost instantly and Beau lifts one hand in a tiny goodbye.
Hannah lifts her hands in the air. “It’s no good, the attempt is no good!”
The people in the comments lose their minds.
Allie waits exactly three seconds before bursting into laughter, folding slightly against Beau’s side. Beau smiles, leaning behind her to grab her drink from the bar and they walk back to the table.
Hannah turns back to the table.
“What a beautiful play, really, Hayes, Maxwell, how do you do it?”
Allie looks confused while Beau leans to speak into Hannah’s drink, his arm still around her shoulders.
“Wellsy, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication, but I couldn’t do it without my partner here.”
“What the hell is going on?” Allie asks, laughing.
Hannah turns back to the camera and brings her drink back to her.
“For anyone just joining, Beau has now been deployed five times on six attempts.”
Beau lifts a brow and smirks, looking right into the camera.
“Seven if you count the bartender.”
Dean’s eyes widen and he asks, “What fucking bartender?”
But no one obviously could hear him.
Allie finally gasps as she leans into the table.
“Oh my god, are you two filming?!”
Hannah is laughing too hard to explain, so Beau tells Allie it’s live, and she looks horrified. Dean watches as Beau leans into whisper something in Allie’s ear, and a second later, Allie’s eyes connect with the camera and she smiles.
Dean stares at the screen, and he knows… he just knows that the thing Beau said in Allie’s ear was that he was watching.
When they live ends, Dean lays back down on his bed and stares up at the ceiling. He knew from the beginning of the night that jealousy was going to be a problem for him, and yeah, it’s there. Of course it is, the picture annoyed him, the guys approaching her made him want to climb through the screen… but beneath that was something warmer and steadier.
Relief.
Beau is there, Hannah is there. Allie is safe and laughing and probably having one of the best nights she’s ever had in a long while.
And for Dean… that’s enough.
A little after midnight, while Dean is playing himself in chess, his phone buzzes across his desk with a message from the house group chat.
Beau: Have two beers and three shots of vodka ready for me.
Beau: And fair warning, it’s about to get LOUD.
Dean is out of his chair before he has time to tell himself not to be pathetic about it.
He moves quickly at first, already halfway to the hall before his brain caught up with his body and reminded him that lunging out of his room at the mere possibility of seeing Allie is not exactly subtle. By the time he hits the stairs, he forces himself to slow down, dragging one hand casually along the railing like he didn’t just launch himself from his desk like the house was on fire. When he reaches the living room, Garrett, Tucker, and Logan are still exactly where he left them, sprawled around the TV with controllers in their hands and their attention locked on whatever game they were currently abusing each other over.
Garrett looks up as Dean crosses into the kitchen and starts pulling the vodka and beers from the fridge.
“Guess you weren’t that tired?”
Dean shrugs, twisting the cap off the bottle of vodka and grabbing three shot glasses from the cabinet. “I’m being hospitable.”
“You’re being something,” Garrett mumbles.
Dean ignores him. He lines up the shots, pops the tops off the beers, and tells himself there is nothing weird about being prepared. Beau asked for drinks, Dean is getting drinks. This is normal. This is a thing any good best friend would do.
Garrett keeps staring at him.
Dean finally glances over. “What?”
Before Garrett can answer, the sound comes from outside.
Not knocking. Not footsteps. Not even normal drunk-girl giggling.
“LOATHING, UNADULTERATED LOATHING!”
Singing.
Loud, theatrical, off-key singing that seems to hit the porch about three seconds before the girls do. All four guys freeze, heads turning toward the door at once, while a high-pitched, dramatic shout—“EVERY LITTLE TRAIT, HOWEVER SMALL, MAKES MY VERY FLESH BEGING TO CRAWL!”—carries through the front windows with absolutely no concern for the fact that it’s past midnight.
Logan blinks once, then nods. “Loud.”
The front door bursts open.
Hannah and Allie stumble in first, holding each other up and singing like they are auditioning for Broadway.
“AND I WILL BE LOATHING, LOATHING YOU MY WHOLE LIFE LONG!”
Their arms are locked together, their hair is a little wild from the night air, and their voices are so loud, that Tucker actually flinches. Beau comes in behind them, shutting the door with his shoulder while laughing like a man who just survived a war and is a proud of it.
“For the record,” Beau calls over them, “they’ve been doing this since the parking lot.”
Hannah throws one arm up dramatically and nearly takes Allie down with her. Allie shrieks, catches her balance against the wall, and then starts laughing so hard she almost bumps her head.
Beau walks straight to the kitchen island, sees the drinks waiting for him, and puts a hand over his heart. “Thank God.”
He takes one shot without hesitation, then grabs the beer Dean opened for him.
“Baby!” Hannah squeals suddenly, as if just remembering Garrett exists.
She releases Allie and makes an unsteady beeline for the couch, except her version of a beeline involves veering into the coffee table, correcting too hard, and then flopping over the back of the couch directly on top of her boyfriend. Tucker shoots out of the way just in time while Logan bursts out laughing. Garrett makes a sound somewhere between pain and love as Hannah lands half across his chest, her hair falling into his face.
Allie laughs so hard, she has to grip the wall.
Dean would laugh too, probably, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way Allie looks.
She’s flushed from the cold and alcohol, her cheeks pink, her eyes glassy, and bright. There’s something loose about her tonight, something unguarded in the way she smiles before she thinks to hide it.
Then she turns toward the kitchen and see Beau lifting his beer.
“Chug, chug, chug!” Allie starts chanting, rushing over to the island like it was the most important event of the evening.
Beau tips his beer back and commits to the bit immediately. The guys start yelling, Hannah lifts her head off Garrett’s face just enough to cheer from the couch. Allie claps when Beau finished, delighted and a little breathless, and Dean tries not to stare at how her smile takes over her whole face.
“Aww, Beau,” Hannah calls from where she is still lying on Garrett like a blanket. “Thank you again for tonight. Seriously, I really appreciate it.”
“Any time, Wellsy,” Beau offers as he lifts another shot up for cheers. “Any time.”
That is when Allie finally looks at Dean.
It lasts half a second, maybe less. Her eyes meet his, and something flickers across her face before she looks away again too quickly, like it’s something forbidden. Dean’s chest tightens. He wants more of that. Wants a real look, wants her to say his name in that soft, tipsy voice. Wants to tug her into him and feel her relax the way she does when no one else is around.
Then her hand spreads across the island.
Casual, natural. Easy enough that no one else would ever notice, and her pinkie brushes against his knuckles.
It’s nothing, it’s barely a touch, but it hits him straight in the heart like she’s reached inside him and grabbed hold.
Dean keeps his face blank because everyone is in the room, because Garrett is two feet away, because Allie still isn’t his in any way he is allowed to announce. But he doesn’t move his hand and neither does she. For a few seconds, they stand there like that, side by side at the island with Beau throwing back vodka beside them and Hannah laughing from the couch, and Dean letting himself have that tiny hidden thing.
Eventually, everyone drifts into the living room, pulled there by natural gravity of drunk storytelling and Garrett’s snack stash. Beau takes over the center of the room like he’s hosting a debriefing, beer in hand, while Hannah stays curled sideway on Garrett’s lap and steals pretzels from Tucker’s bowl.
“All I’m saying,” Beau continues, “is I deserve compensation for my services. It is a full-time job scaring men away from drunk girls who do not wish to be approached.”
Hannah points at him with a pretzel. “You were very brave.”
“I was,” Beau agrees. “Heroic, even.”
Logan leans back into the couch and calls out to Allie who is in the kitchen, opening herself a beer. “What did that one guy ask you, Al? Something about your zodiac sign?”
Hannah is the one that answers with a giggle.
“He said, ‘I bet you’re a libra, that means we’re a perfect match!’”
Everyone groans at once.
Dean laughs along from the recliner, but there is an ache under it. Not because the guy matters, he doesn’t. But the thought of Allie out there getting hit on by men who didn’t know how she smiled when she was trying not to, men who didn’t know she gets quiet when she’s overwhelmed, men who don’t know anything about her except that she is beautiful, made something possessive and miserable curl low in Dean’s stomach.
He wants to pull her onto his lap, he wants to kiss her neck in front of everyone and say, mine.
But she isn’t… not really.
“Even if I wanted to drink tonight, I couldn’t,” Beau continues, shaking his head. “Couldn’t let my guard down for a second. Full-time protection detail.”
Allie walks back into the living room, beer in hand and smile still lingering. “Oh, please. I got you a girl’s number, that’s payment enough.”
Beau’s eyes widen and he lifts his bottle to point at her. “True. Allie-Cat came through with the win.”
“What happened?” Logan asks.
Dean watches as Allie comes toward him without seeming to think about it.
“Hannah and I were in the bathroom,” Allie begins, “and I was in the stall, minding my own business, being a lady—”
“You were singing to yourself,” Hannah corrects.
“I was minding my own business musically,” Allie says, then takes a sip of her beer. “And I overheard this girl talking about the hot football player at the bar that she wanted to climb like a tree.”
Beau wiggles his eyebrows while the guys immediately start making obnoxious noises at him.
Allie rolls her eyes and sinks down onto the arm of Dean’s recliner, making him go very still.
She keeps talking like she didn’t just sit close enough for her thigh to brush his shoulder. “Anyway, then she got all sad because she thought Beau had a girlfriend—me. So I came out of that stall so fast, I think I scared the poor girl. I was like, no, no, no, he’s not my boyfriend. We are just friends, he is helping me keep guys away so my friend and I can have a girls’ night in peace!”
“Which,” Hannah adds, “made her like him more.”
Beau mimics fixing his tie and Hannah threw a pretzel at him.
Allie laughs and shifts to get more comfortable, lifting one foot onto the edge of the recliner cushion. It looks innocent enough, just a drunk girl settling in while she tells a story. But her toes brush Dean’s side, and her thigh comes to rest lightly against his arm, warm though the thin fabric of her jeans.
Dean takes a slow sip of his beer and tries to remember how to behave like a normal person.
“She gave me her number, and asked me to give it to Daddy Beau.”
The room erupts.
Logan nearly chokes, Tucker gasps, Garrett starts laughing so hard, Hannah bounces on his lap and Dean holds out his hand without looking away from Beau, who slaps it with great dignity for a man being called Daddy Beau.
“I texted her as soon as I got in the car,” Beau admits, pulling his phone from his pocket with a smug little grin.
“She was really pretty too,” Hannah says around a mouthful of pretzels. “Super nice. She put the tag back in my shirt because it was sticking out.”
Logan tilts his head. “She put your tag back in your shirt?”
Hannah nods with a very serious look on her face. “That’s top-tier girl code. You always fix the tag.”
“We should do that?” Tucker asks.
“No,” every guy in the room says at once.
Allie snorts, leaning back just enough that her hair brushes Dean’s shoulder.
Not that he notices.
Dean adjusts in the recliner, slow and casual, so her thigh presses a little more firmly into his arm.
“Dude,” he says to Tucker, “you don’t put your hands on a girl unless she allows it. Until she consents, your hands stay put.”
Tucker looks genuinely baffled.
“Why can girls do it, then?”
“Girl code,” Allie and Hannah say together.
Tucker shakes his head like he has been personally victimized by feminism, while Beau raises his beer.
“Anyway, to Allie-Cat and her elite wingman skills!”
Everyone lifts their drinks. Allie laughs, cheeks pink, accepting the toast with an exaggerated little bow from her perch on the arm of Dean’s chair.
Dean raises his beer too, but when he takes a sip, he uses the bottle to hide the way his left hand settles around Allie’s ankle.
Her foot goes still against him.
For one second, he thinks she might pull away. But then her toes curl lightly against his side, and Dean keeps drinking, face carefully blank, while her ankle stays warm in his hand.
The night keeps going with Hannah eventually stealing Garrett’s controller, challenging Logan to a match that she plays terribly at. Tucker explains to them all the importance of letting food rest after it comes out of the oven, while Beau sits on the floor in front of Dean, drinking his beer and texting the girl from earlier.
The entire time, Dean keeps his hand on Allie’s ankle, rubbing his thumb softly against the skin.
Slowly, though, the energy drains out of the room, and as people start to disperse, there’s no logical reason for Allie to stay on the arm of the chair any longer and moves to the couch. Garrett eventually convinces Hannah to leave by promising food, which leads to a ten-minute debate over what kind of food counts as romantic at two in the morning.
By the time they are gone, the house settles into a quiet that feels almost strange after so much noise, with only Beau, Allie, and Dean remaining in the living room.
Allie curls herself into the corner of the couch beneath a blanket, her boots kicked off and one cheek pressed against the cushion. Beau still sits on the floor in front of Dean, his gaze fixed on his phone and Dean stares at him.
After a moment, Beau must sense Dean’s gaze, and looks up over his shoulder. Dean lifts his brows in a silent get out and Beau looks around.
With a small laugh, he nods and stands. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
Allie snorts and Beau pats her on the head when he walks by the couch.
“Night, tiny menace.”
She smiles into the blanket. “Goodnight.”
Beau heads upstairs, and a moment later, his footsteps fade. Then it’s quiet, really quiet.
For the first time all night, there’s no screen between Dean and Allie. No room full of people, no hiding. Just the low sound of the tv, the tiny light from the lamp, and Allie looking at him from beneath the blanket with tired eyes and a soft smile.
Dean stands from the recliner and moves toward the couch, smiling down at her.
“You survived girls’ night.”
Alliet lets out a quiet laugh. “Barely.”
“I heard it was dangerous out there.”
She bites her lip. “Did you?”
With a shrug, he puts one knee on the couch, and his left hand on the back of it to brace himself. “Rumors.”
“Well, you tend to hear a lot of rumors when you watch someone’s live.” Dean keeps his face perfectly blank and Allie smiles wide. “You were the second one on there.”
Dean leans down just a little, his chain dangling between them.
“I was bored.”
“Sure.”
She raises her brow and he tilts his head. “You’re very smug for someone who needed a bodyguard at the bar.”
With a groan, she turns so she’s fully on her back. “Don’t remind me.”
“That bad?” He asks, using his right hand to brush a piece of hair away from her face.
“Easier that Beau was there, he told one guy I was allergic to men.”
Dean barks out a laugh while Allie giggles. After a beat, she reaches up and cups his neck, her thumbs brushing the underside of his jaw.
“Just so you know, it’s shark week, so we can’t do anything tonight.”
His mouth curves despite himself. “Allie.”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t do anything with you right now, anyway.”
Her brow furrows. “Why?”
“Because you’re drunk.”
Her face becomes gentle and her fingers tighten ever so slightly against his neck.
“Oh,” she says.
“Yeah.”
They stay silent for a moment, and Allie’s eyes move down to his chain. Her thumbs continue to rub softly against his jaw and she hums before looking back up at him.
“Does that mean you won’t kiss me either?”
Dean doesn’t answer immediately, he can’t. There’s something in her voice that makes him go still, something playful on the surface, but careful underneath. He lifts his right hand to her to cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin.
He doesn’t say anything, he just leans down and kisses her. And for a second, everything else goes quiet in a way it hasn’t all night.
It’s not rushed, it’s not hungry in the way their kisses have been before, when the passion between them can do nothing but explode, this is slower, softer, almost careful.
He’s so fucked.
Allie leans up, her arms circling around his neck and Dean slowly lowers himself until he’s lying on top of her. She gives a soft sigh and Dean feels the sound all the way through him. His chest loosens, his shoulders relax, and feels just utterly perfect.
When they pull apart, Dean rests his forehead against hers as they breathe the same air. He finally opens his eyes, and looks at her, his thumb still brushing along her cheek.
“Will you stay?” she asks softly, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
Her voice is so low and honest in a way that makes him feel like maybe he’s not alone in the way he feels.
Toeing off his sneakers, Dean and Allie shift so he can lay next to her and he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her so close that he can feel her breath on his chin. She rests her forehead against his lips, and he presses a kiss there that makes her sigh.
A few minutes later, when her breathing starts to slow, he rubs his hand up and down her back and watches as her face becomes peaceful in a way that makes his throat tighten. Tomorrow morning, he’ll have to wake up before the rest of the house, he’ll have to slip away quietly and pretend he didn’t spend the night with Allie in his arms. He’ll have to go back to acting normal in front of their friends, back to pretending he didn’t notice every time she walked into a room.
Tomorrow, everything will go back to being complicated.
But tonight, Allie is warm against him and she asked him to stay.
Dean rests his cheek against her hair, closed his eyes, and let himself have it, just for now, just until morning, just this one quiet, stolen piece of her.