Page 51 of Dean

I’d give him the best load. My very best.

“I don’t want to nag, but you should eat a little more and lay off the copious amounts of coffee you drink.”

He peers at me from the side of his eye. “That so?”

“Mhm. Remember? Bossy bitch?”

His lips quirk up and he takes another bite.

“Avery?” he says after a moment of quiet chewing.

“Hm?”

“If you want to fuck someone…or have a hookup…shit.” His words trail off, and I just sit completely still, waiting for him to explain. “I mean, if you want to hook up, I’d rather it not be at the house.”

My eyebrows rise. “And why are you talking about this now?”

He clears his throat and takes a sip of water. “Just wanted to put it out there since we’re roommates now.”

“Of course. I won’t bring a fuck to the house. Jesus, Dean. That would be so rude.”

“I just thought, last night when that guy brought you up the walkway…that maybe you two would…you know?”

“I wouldn’t do that. Not without talking to you first.”

“All right.”

He takes another bite and I do the same, letting those words sit between us. Why would it bother him so much if I brought home someone to fuck? Because he’s jealous? Or because the thought of hearing me take it up the ass grosses him out?

“And no, it’s not because I’m homophobic or some shit. So stop thinking that.”

My mouth opens and then slams shut.

“I just…I just don’t want to hear it. Not in my house.”

“All right. You don’t need to explain, Dean. It’s your house. Your rules.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He takes another bite, and I sigh, my mind reeling. So he just doesn’t want to hear it. What does that mean? Does he not like the idea of me getting off around him because I’m a man? Or is it because he doesn’t want to hear me getting off with someone other than him? I let out a depressed exhale, and Dean stares at me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Your mind goes a mile a minute so I know it’s not nothing. What is it?”

“Nothing, just still hungover is all.”

He doesn’t believe me but doesn’t call me out on my obvious lie. I mean, I’m hungover, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Before Dean can ask me anything else, I hear Ford calling up to him, and Dean sets his sandwich down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and disappears out of the office.

He looks…sad. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it.

I can’t help but follow him, curious about what Ford wanted. Cash and Ben aren’t around, but I do see a man in all black, his dark hair tucked behind his ears, chatting with Ford and Dean near the entrance. In his hand is a folder and his cell phone.

Grabbing a pad of paper to make any notes they may need, I move down and step up next to Dean.

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