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[ It's been a long time since she's basked in the afterglow of anything. She figures she'd be a broken record by now if she said as much but it's hard to shake the feeling that so much of tonight has been new, a first; and even though she knows that, it still takes her by surprise. If it were anyone else, these moments after might feel awkward — the pair of them stripped bare in every literal and figurative way, having crossed a line they can't come back from. But Dean is safe, always has been, and their friendship was built on that foundation from the start. It hasn't wavered since. If anything, she's never felt more certain in her life — of this, him, choosing him. This happened because they both wanted it; mutual, reciprocal, unconditional. (Not like before where she was just a means to an end.)

He's right — there's something great about being with someone fully. It's such an intoxicating feeling, Bev still feels lightheaded with it, helpless to do much else but smile when he answers her, gratified by it. Her eyes fall closed for a heartbeat when he touches her, the gesture so delicate it's like he's handling a soap bubble — like he's not sure she's really in front of him, like she might disappear. His fingers rest on her neck and it doesn't even occur to her to flinch, the glowing affection for him washing out old reflexes formed by fear. (Safe, safe, safe. She never wants him to stop touching her. She'd feel a little unmoored without this anchor point; but even without, he's still her harbour.)

You're incredible lands differently now that they aren't lost in each others' passionate embrace. It's as honest now as it was then, but something about it being offered so simply instead of gasped between their hungry kisses makes her blush deeper now; her eyes blink open again to look at him in the lamplight, pleased and flattered and delighted. (Maybe a little self-conscious. There's a flicker of old anxiety, wondering if she'd done enough for him, but then he says awesome and that worry goes quiet.) But her laugh is as warm as ever, bubbling free without shame. ]

Thank you? [ God, look at him. He's just lying there, looking at her like she's holding the universe together, and she thinks her heart might burst. She almost can't take it. Almost. (She almost can't get enough.) She grins, bright and playful. ] You're pretty awesome yourself, Winchester. Actually, I think the word is — mindblowing.

[ It's teasingly said, but she means it. How can she find the words to convey what this meant? What he means? She doesn't want to ruin the moment by burdening it with too much expectation, but there's no denying there's something there, something that goes beyond tonight. She knows he can feel it too. And she knows the best and only way forward is one step at a time — together. God, she wants nothing more than to explore this together.

Beverly studies him for a moment, curled up on her side and legs tangled with his under the covers. They're close, but not close enough. ]

C'mere, [ she murmurs, voice still buoyant with immeasurable fondness, as she leans up to kiss him. Words are hard, but she can do justice to half of them with this; it's chaste, but no less tender because of it, the press of their lips soft and lingering. When she breaks away, she doesn't go far, her nose brushing his as she whispers against him, ] You should stay.

[ Here. The night. With me. It's almost a question, almost a request. And it's entirely up to him. ]

Edited 2020-10-10 00:59 (UTC)

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