Supernatural - Chapter 42: From Now On (Patreon)

In the end, Bela stayed to help them tidy up the house enough that they could leave it behind.

She'd calmed down considerably, though her eyes were still red. When Sam finished packing away his notes, she stood in the doorway, looked back at the building that had nearly become her grave, and abruptly announced, “I'm quitting.”

Dean was loading the trunk. He turned around. “What?”

“This business,” Bela said. “Stealing things, selling them, tracking down cursed junk for other people. All of it. I'm done.”

She sounded completely decided.

Ten years ago, she'd sold her soul to escape her parents, and everything that followed had led to the life she'd been living ever since. It seemed Bela had finally had enough. She would dispose of the remaining items in her possession and disappear from the trade for good.

Murphy wasn't surprised in the slightest.

After watching three hellhounds come for her the previous night, anyone would have reason to reconsider their career choices.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You? Retiring?”

Bela gave him a cold look. “I have plenty of money, and I'm still alive. Why shouldn't I?”

Dean raised his brows again but didn't argue.

Before leaving, Bela told them they could contact her if they ever came across something truly important.

Then she got into her car and drove away.

...

It was almost dawn by the time the others made it back to Bobby's house.

Sam had carried his stack of notes the entire journey. The first thing he did when he came through the door was set them on the table and reach for a pen. Bobby had had enough. He snatched the notebook from Sam's hands.

“Go to bed.”

“I just need to...”

“Sam.”

There was no arguing with that tone. Sam gave up.

Dean was delighted to see his brother put in his place. He even gave Sam a shove toward the stairs. “You heard the old man.”

Bobby told them both to get lost.

Murphy was too exhausted to follow the argument. She showered, collapsed into bed, and didn't wake until sunlight was blazing through a gap in the curtains.

She reached for her phone. It was already after two in the afternoon. She lay there staring blankly for another few minutes before dragging herself downstairs in search of food.

Dean was awake, leaning against the kitchen counter and eating leftover pizza. His short blond hair stuck up every which way.

Murphy took a slice and noticed that there was no sign of Sam downstairs.

“Sam still asleep?”

“Mm-hmm.” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of pizza.

That surprised her.

Sam hadn't been sleeping well lately.

It had gotten especially bad since the Mystery Spot incident. He often woke in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep. Sometimes, when Murphy went down for water in the early hours, she found him sitting alone at the computer.

If he was still asleep at half past two, he must have been utterly worn out.

Sam didn't come downstairs until almost half past three.

He still looked half asleep, his hair an even greater mess than usual. He reminded Murphy of a huge, disheveled dog.

He went straight to the kitchen, poured himself some water, took two swallows, and only then remembered to ask the time.

“Nearly three thirty,” Murphy told him.

Sam went still for a few seconds, then looked instinctively toward the living room clock.

Dean laughed from the sofa. “What, you upset about losing half a day of your life?”

“I just didn't expect to sleep that long.”

“It's only ten hours. You've slept that long before.”

Sam gave him a look. “When?”

Dean tried to remember. Nothing came to mind. He opened and closed his mouth like a stranded goldfish.

Murphy couldn't help laughing at how cute he looked.

Sam ignored his brother and carried his water over to review last night's notes.

Murphy expected him to spend another hour or two buried in them. Instead, she soon caught him staring vacantly at the same pages.

They'd already recorded everything they could last night. They still needed to improve the exterior defenses and recheck the array, but doing that tomorrow would make no difference.

There really was nothing else to add for now. After sitting there a little longer, Sam actually closed the notebook.

Murphy found it strangely novel. She hadn't seen Sam with nothing to do in ages.

By evening, boredom had driven him to investigate a dusty cardboard box sitting in the corner of the living room.

“What's that?”

Murphy followed his pointing finger and recognized the packaging.

“Oh...” She'd almost forgotten it existed. “That's the game console I bought.”

Dean came over when he heard. “When did you buy that?”

“A while ago.”

“And you've just left it there?”

“Yep.”

Dean looked baffled. “You bought a console and never played it?”

Murphy crouched to peel away the tape, feeling rather sorry for herself. “You two could try giving me some free time. Before, you practically wouldn't let me go anywhere alone.”

She'd ordered a Wii on a whim while shopping online and had it shipped to Bobby's place. By the time it arrived, she hadn't had a chance to unpack it, much less come back and play.

One crisis had followed another, and the box had spent all that time gathering dust.

Now, as Murphy unpacked it, the purchase suddenly seemed remarkably farsighted.

“Well, we've got time now, don't we?”

Naturally, the job of connecting the console fell to Sam.

Murphy sat on the floor opening the game cases. Dean peered over her shoulder, then quickly lost interest in the brightly colored characters on the covers.

“What the hell is all that?”

“Super Smash Bros.”

“Looks like a smash-up, all right.”

“Oh, you have no taste. You're banned from playing.” Despite the words, Murphy held out a controller to him.

Dean didn't take it. He grabbed a beer instead and settled nearby to watch.

Sam picked up the other controller.

“I haven't played this one.”

“It's my first time with this version too.” Murphy dropped onto the sofa. “Perfect.”

The first few matches were completely one-sided.

Sam hadn't even memorized the buttons, and Murphy showed him no mercy. Every time she saw an opening, she knocked his character straight off the stage. After the third knockout, her conscience finally stirred a little.

“Want me to give you a chance to learn the controls?” she asked in an insufferably smug voice.

Sam kept his eyes on the screen. “No.”

Something about his tone made Murphy suspicious.

Sure enough, he started taking the next match seriously.

Sam had nowhere near her experience with games, but he learned fast. After falling for the same tricks a few times, he began remembering which parts of the stage were dangerous, when he could be knocked out, and which direction Murphy preferred when returning to the platform.

In the fifth match, Murphy had barely respawned when Sam cornered her and knocked her character straight off the screen.

She stared at the screen for two seconds, then turned. “Sam.”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Didn't you say this was your first time playing?”

“It is.”

“Then how have you already learned to camp my respawn point?”

Sam smiled faintly. “Because you come back the same way every time.”

Murphy sat bolt upright.

So he'd been studying her the whole time.

“Again.”

The following matches were a different story.

Murphy began changing her habits deliberately to catch him out. Sam learned to recognize when she was about to make a reckless move. Before long, both were desperate to win. They'd started out lounging on the sofa, but now each leaned farther forward than the other.

Murphy won another round and bumped his shoulder triumphantly.

“See that?”

Still holding his controller, Sam tilted sideways from the nudge. “Who attacked me while I was reading the instructions?”

“That was a perfectly legitimate ambush.”

“Those words don't belong together.”

“Losers always have complaints.”

Sam gently pushed her head away from the screen after she deliberately leaned into his line of sight. “Next match.”

“You're still going?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

Murphy was more than happy to oblige.

Dean had originally planned to sit nearby, drink his beer, and watch. After several rounds, the game still didn't interest him much. The two people playing it, however, had caught his attention.

Sam liked Murphy.

The thought didn't surprise Dean as much as it should have.

He was Sam's older brother. He'd practically raised the kid. He could read him better than anyone, although until now he'd preferred not to follow that particular thought too far.

After all, when you could count how many days you had left, what was the point of figuring it out?

But Bela had survived. All at once, the situation didn't seem quite so impossible.

So Sam liked Murphy.

What of it?

Dean liked her too.

For now, the important thing was surviving May 2. They could worry about everything else afterward.

Murphy won yet another match and was triumphantly demanding a rematch from Sam when Dean set down his beer, walked over, and held out his hand.

“Give me one.”

Sam looked up too. “Didn't you say you weren't playing?”

“I changed my mind.”

“We're going to destroy you.”

Dean snorted. “I've watched you two for hours. How hard can it be?”

He sat down beside Murphy.

She found a spare controller for him. At his confident declaration, she cheerfully abandoned the idea of explaining the controls.

“Fine. Figure it out yourself.”

“Gladly.”

Five minutes later, Dean's character fell off the stage for the third time.

Murphy was laughing so hard her hands shook. Sam wasn't faring any better.

Dean was furious. “Is this controller broken?”

Murphy held up hers. “Want to trade?”

“I don't need you humiliating me.”

“You've died three times already.”

The moment she said it, Dean's character went flying off the screen again.

“Four,” Sam corrected.

Dean rounded on him. “Shut up.”

In the next match, Dean abandoned any attempt to understand the rules and attacked whatever moved.

Murphy was certain he'd be eliminated in seconds. Instead, she and Sam got so caught up in fighting each other that one was knocked out by Dean as he fell, and the other missed a jump and went off the stage alone.

Even Dean looked surprised when the results appeared. That didn't stop him from becoming insufferable a second later.

“Ha!”

Murphy had a terrible feeling about this.

“You see that?”

Sam stared at him. “Do you even know how you won?”

“Of course. Pure skill.” Dean took all the credit for his accidental victory.

“You couldn't even find your own character half the time.”

“So? Results are what matter, Sammy.”

Murphy couldn't stand his smug expression. She selected the next match.

“Again.”

Dean gripped his controller, delighted with himself.

The three of them ended up playing well past dinner.

At one point, the noise brought Bobby out of his room. He stood in the doorway watching them for a while, realized they were merely playing video games, and went back with his coffee.

Dean called after him. “Want a round?”

Bobby didn't look back. “Thanks. I'd like two minutes of peace.”

The three players immediately went back to their game.

Eventually, Murphy's hands began to ache. She dropped the controller beside her and leaned against the sofa.

“Break time.”

“Getting scared?” Dean asked.

She kicked his shin, and he reacted as though she'd inflicted a mortal wound.

They'd ordered pizza for dinner and eaten it in the living room between matches.

Later, Sam even started experimenting with the game's single-player mode. Dean complained that Sam could turn a video game into homework, though he himself refused to put down the controller.

Watching the two brothers bicker over a game, Murphy suddenly found the whole thing rather funny.

The Wii had spent months gathering dust in the corner. Today, at last, she'd gotten her money's worth.

She finished the last bite of her pizza, leaned back on the sofa, and felt thoroughly content.

Around noon the next day, Bobby opened the refrigerator and discovered there was hardly anything edible left inside.

“Don't any of you know how to buy groceries?”

Murphy was in the living room watching Sam investigate the game they'd left unfinished the night before. She leaned toward the kitchen at Bobby's complaint.

Bobby stood in front of the open refrigerator, holding half a carton of milk that was nearing its expiration date. He didn't look pleased.

Dean came to investigate. “There's still beer.”

“You planning to live on beer?”

“Sometimes.”

Bobby slapped the shopping list against Dean's chest.

In the end, all three of them went out.

Dean drove. Sam studied Bobby's rather untidy shopping list in the passenger seat, while Murphy occupied the back. On the way, Dean tried to convince Sam that since they were going to the supermarket anyway, buying a couple of pies was perfectly reasonable.

“They're not on the list.”

“Bobby forgot them.”

“He never asked you to get any.”

“That's why I said he forgot.”

Sam folded the list and stopped answering him.

Murphy hadn't expected grocery shopping to take long. Yet less than ten minutes after they entered the supermarket, their cart had already begun diverging wildly from Bobby's list.

Sam found the actual groceries, one item at a time. Dean added whatever else he felt a house ought to have.

Murphy spent a while choosing coffee. When she came back, the cart contained two bags of chips, a box of doughnuts, and several cartons of ice cream.

“Who put these in?”

Sam didn't look up. “Who do you think?”

Dean attempted to blame Sam. Murphy ignored him and put one of the bags of chips back on the shelf.

As soon as she walked away, Dean put it back in the cart.

Murphy stared at him in disbelief. “Do you remember you're the oldest one here?”

“And?”

He reached for another bag in a different flavor and dropped it in with the rest.

Murphy glanced down. It happened to be one of her favorites.

Dean walked off, pretending nothing had happened.

She followed with her coffee, increasingly suspicious of his behavior today.

He appeared again when she stopped to choose pasta sauce.

Murphy reached toward a jar on the top shelf. She was perfectly tall enough to get it, but before her fingers touched the glass, Dean's hand had already taken it down for her.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She accepted the jar, then stared at him for two seconds.

“What?”

“Did you do something to me that you feel guilty about?”

Dean looked baffled. “No.”

“Then what's with all the attention?”

“I handed you a jar. That's excessive attention now?”

“It's not the first time today.”

Dean considered that for a moment. He apparently had no intention of stopping. “Then I guess you'd better get used to it.”

Murphy had nothing to say.

Somehow, that sounded even stranger.

Sam returned with a box of cereal just in time to catch the end. “Get used to what?”

“Nothing,” Murphy said.

Dean simply wheeled the cart away.

Sam dropped the cereal inside and went back to the list.

Outside, Sam returned the cart while Dean and Murphy loaded the bags into the trunk. When they were nearly finished, Dean fished two bottles of soda out of a bag, opened one, and handed it to her.

Murphy took a drink.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“You're being really weird today.”

“How am I weird?”

“I can't quite explain it.”

Dean shut the trunk. “Then tell me when you've figured it out.”

Murphy couldn't put her finger on it, so she decided to let it go.

It wasn't anything unpleasant, after all.

Back at Bobby's, she was putting things away when she found several home-design magazines she'd picked up on a whim at the bottom of one of the bags.

The basic work on the house was almost finished, and some furniture was already there. But it was a long way from being truly comfortable.

Murphy had been planning to let the brothers choose everything that remained after she told them about the house. It was hard to decide what would make somebody else feel at home.

But seeing those magazines at the store had given her an idea. There was no reason she had to wait that long.

Why not find out what they liked ahead of time?

That evening, when the three of them gathered in the living room again, Murphy opened one of the magazines.

Sam had just finished a match. He put down his controller and noticed what she was reading.

“Since when are you into furniture magazines?”

“Picked it up at the store.” Murphy turned a page. “Just looking at how other people decorate.”

Sam thought nothing of it. He flipped through a couple of pages and stopped at a picture of a study.

Murphy had planned to ask his preferences indirectly, but she didn't even have to try.

Sam took the magazine and looked through it himself. He wasn't interested in immaculate show-home studies. He preferred more bookshelves and darker wood. Ideally, the desk would stand near a window, with a quiet reading corner beside it.

Murphy made a mental note of everything.

The bedroom reserved for Sam on the second floor was already spacious, and the third-floor attic included a private study for him. None of those changes would be difficult.

Dean showed little interest. “Whatever's fine.”

“Don't believe him,” Sam said immediately.

Dean turned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're just not used to having a choice.”

“No. I've just got a big heart.”

Murphy's gaze flickered to Dean's broad chest. He certainly had room for one.

Eventually, Dean took the magazine himself. Within a few pages, he was making demands of his own. He disliked overly white, empty rooms. The living room should look lived in, the sofa had to be comfortable, and the kitchen shouldn't be so precious that you were afraid to touch anything.

When he reached the pictures of garages, he became markedly more interested.

“This one's decent.” Dean pointed at a photograph. “Workbench against the wall, tools hung up where I can see them. Plenty of light. A sink would be nice, too.”

Murphy looked at him. “I thought anything was fine.”

“I'm saying if there happened to be one.”

“What else?”

Dean thought for a moment. “If it's big enough, Baby goes in the middle, with some room on either side. Oh, and there's got to be a sound system.”

Sam couldn't help himself. “Why would you need speakers in a garage?”

“Can't I listen to music while I work on the car?”

“The neighbors will hate you.”

“Then we'll live farther away.”

Murphy struggled not to smile. Their nearest neighbors were already plenty far away.

The garage had a sink and proper drainage. The workbench and tool wall were almost exactly where Dean wanted them. Apparently, the plans she'd made using what she knew about him had been remarkably accurate.

“What're you smiling at?”

“Just thinking you've put a lot of thought into this.”

Dean didn't deny it. “If I'm going to imagine it, might as well do it properly. If I ever have a garage of my own, I'm not settling for just anything.”

Murphy slowed as she turned the page.

Over the past few days, Dean had begun saying if and someday without thinking twice.

She was pleased enough not to point it out. She simply kept looking through the magazine.

By now, she'd learned nearly everything she needed.

For the next few days, the magazines stayed scattered around the living room.

Sam picked them up now and then, and Dean occasionally stopped to browse. Murphy used the opportunity to revise most of her shopping list. Bookshelves and a reading nook for Sam, a dark sofa and record storage for Dean. She added each detail as she learned it. The garage scarcely needed any changes at all.

...

A few evenings later, Sam went to shower after finishing a game, and Bobby had already retired to his room.

Murphy was still on the sofa, her laptop open to the shopping list, when Dean came out of the kitchen.

He spun his car keys around his fingers a couple of times, lingered beside the sofa, then finally spoke.

“Feel like going out?”

Murphy looked up, assuming something had happened. After a couple of questions, though, she established there was no case to investigate and nothing they needed to buy.

“So you just want to go for a drive?” she asked, puzzled.

“Something like that.”

Dean caught the keys in his palm and tilted his head toward the door. “You coming?”

Murphy studied him for two seconds. He really had been acting stranger and stranger lately.

She shut the laptop and stood.

“Sure.”

“Thought you'd at least think about it.”

“Oh, okay. Give me a minute, then.” Murphy sat down again and reopened the computer.

Dean immediately reached over and closed the lid. “Forget I said anything.”

“Too late.”

“Murphy.” Dean gave her his most pitiful look.

She stared back. She really couldn't withstand him looking at her like that, so she set the laptop aside and got to her feet. “Come on, then.”

Sam was still in the shower when they left. Only after Murphy reached Baby did she remember to glance back at the house.

“Should we tell Sam?”

“He'll figure out we're gone when he finishes showering,” Dean said with complete confidence.

That sounded reasonable enough to Murphy, so she got in.

Once Baby was on the road, Dean chose no particular route. He simply followed the highway. Nearly twenty minutes passed before Murphy became convinced he really had no other purpose.

“You've got time on your hands tonight.”

“Been pretty free lately.”

“I thought you'd have trouble getting used to it.”

“A little,” Dean admitted readily.

There had always been another job waiting. Finish one case, drive to the next town. If there wasn't a case, find one. And for the past six months, he'd woken every morning knowing the countdown was still running, its weight almost enough to crush him.

The first day with nothing urgent to do had felt strange. But playing video games, shopping, and taking a drive just because he felt like it didn't seem nearly as unbearable as he'd imagined.

Murphy leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the road slide past outside. “Where are we actually going?”

“Finding something to eat.”

“Didn't we just have dinner?”

“That's why we're getting dessert. Dessert doesn't count.”

Murphy silently filed that away under Dean Logic.

When they passed a little diner that was still open, Dean pulled over and bought two drinks and a slice of pie.

Murphy was about to order a second slice for herself, but Dean insisted one was plenty.

Only after they got back in the car did she realize that by one is plenty, he'd meant they would share.

She accepted the carton, bemused. “Aren't you usually territorial about food?”

“Me? Territorial?”

Dean sounded perfectly sincere, as though he hadn't held a grudge until the following morning the last time Sam deliberately stole part of his dinner.

Murphy cut herself a small piece of pie with the fork. “Sam took a couple of bites from your plate last time, and you almost made him pay for it at breakfast.”

“That was Sam.”

“Ohhh.” Murphy deliberately drew out the sound. “So there's a double standard.”

Dean was leaning back in the driver's seat with his drink. He didn't deny it, merely nudged the carton of pie closer to her.

“Or you could say some people get better treatment.”

Murphy stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth.

She'd meant it as a joke. She hadn't expected Dean to answer quite so readily.

His behavior had been odd for days now. At the store he'd kept finding excuses to hover near her, even remembering what she liked to eat. Tonight he'd invited her out simply to drive around. And now he was openly admitting to treating her differently.

Murphy looked at him.

Dean showed no sign of wanting to take the words back. In fact, he looked rather pleased by her reaction.

So she hadn't imagined it.

Warmth crept up toward her ears. She ate the bite of pie and tried to sound perfectly casual. “The treatment's been all right so far.”

“Only all right?” Dean clearly objected to that rating.

“Obviously my standards are high.” Murphy settled back into her seat. “You're the one who decided to give someone special treatment.”

Dean didn't argue. He took a sip of his drink. “Then I'll have to keep trying.”

Murphy liked that answer very much. “Sounds good.”

Music played inside the car, and there was hardly any traffic. As Murphy watched the streetlights slip past outside, the purpose of tonight's drive began to seem increasingly obvious.

She turned toward him. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“Are we on a date?”

Dean put on an exaggerated look of surprise. “You're only figuring that out now?”

Murphy's face went scarlet. “Then why didn't you tell me?”

“Would you have said no?”

“Of course not.” She thought for a second. “But I could have looked forward to it properly.”

“It's not too late to raise those expectations now.”

Murphy studied Dean's face carefully.

She had always known he was handsome. But she was so used to looking at him, and he worked so hard at his tough-guy act, that she sometimes forgot just how unfairly good-looking he was.

His eyes were large, his eyelashes ridiculously long, and his green irises particularly lovely up close. Faint freckles dotted the bridge of his straight nose, almost invisible unless you looked carefully.

Her gaze drifted downward to his mouth.

Dean had full lips, naturally well-colored and still a little damp from his drink. They looked impossibly soft.

Perfect for kissing, really.

Murphy lingered there for a couple of seconds.

It was a face beautiful enough to make you stare, yet Dean usually lowered his brows, twisted his mouth into some scowl, and paired it all with a leather jacket and an attitude that said he didn't care about anything.

His smile was another matter entirely.

His teeth were white and even, except for two slightly longer canines that made him look almost adorable when they showed.

Every time Murphy noticed them, she thought they were completely at odds with the image he tried to project.

After being studied so openly for long enough, Dean finally asked, “Finished looking?”

“Not yet,” Murphy answered without a trace of embarrassment.

That stopped Dean cold. He glanced at her once, then again, as though restraining himself from doing something.

Murphy enjoyed another two seconds of looking before turning away, satisfied. “You can keep driving now.”

The road grew quieter around them.

They had no destination, so they went wherever they felt like going. Eventually Dean pulled off onto a deserted stretch of roadside, with no hurry to turn back. Murphy finished the remaining pie, drank some of her soda, and settled comfortably into her seat.

There was still a chill in the April night air. She rolled her window almost all the way up, leaving a narrow gap.

“This is actually really nice.”

Dean thought so too.

He hadn't made any elaborate plans when he'd asked Murphy to come out.

Sam had gone to shower, leaving Murphy curled on the living room sofa with her laptop. Dean had seen her when he came out of the kitchen, and suddenly he'd wanted to ask her to go somewhere with him.

Before, whenever a thought like that crossed his mind, May 2 followed immediately.

The date still came to him. But it no longer made every possibility beyond it seem pointless.

Bela was alive. Their ritual had worked.

In three weeks, all they had to do was perform it again.

For the first time, Dean felt that he might genuinely live past May.

And if that was true, why should he hold back from spending time alone with Murphy when he liked her?

He couldn't think of a single reason.

Murphy had been leaning back listening to the music when she turned to him. “Why'd you decide to come out tonight?”

The question caught Dean off guard. He was too embarrassed to confess he'd liked her for quite a while but hadn't dared say anything because of his looming death and a few complicated, unresolved ethical questions.

Murphy would definitely laugh at him.

So he answered with a question of his own. “You don't like it?”

“When did I say that?”

Murphy replied without hesitation.

“There you go, then.” Dean looked smug.

For a moment, she had no answer.

Thinking back, Dean hadn't exactly been innocent before.

He'd always liked provoking her, especially by snatching things away. Sometimes he'd come unexpectedly close and done little things that could easily have been mistaken for flirting.

But he was such an incorrigible nuisance in general that Murphy had always assumed he was bored. She'd never seriously thought he might be courting her.

Tonight was different. He had admitted this was a date.

He'd deliberately been giving her special treatment, and even when she confronted him, he made no attempt to brush it off.

It took Murphy a little while to realize how much that pleased her.

“You really have been different lately.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Before, I mostly figured you were being obnoxious.”

“Murphy.” He sounded offended.

Suppressing a smile, she continued, “Now it seems more like...”

She paused on purpose.

“Like you're actually trying to win me over.”

Dean didn't even try to deny it. “You know how miserable it is when the person you like is this oblivious? Makes me look like a complete failure, doesn't it?”

The words person you like hit Murphy so hard that her ability to speak seemed to fail. “I... I just... I'm not really used to it.”

“Then take your time getting used to it,” he said lightly, as though there were no question this would continue.

Murphy settled back into her seat, feeling oddly reassured.

They sat quietly for a while as another song began. Dean reached over to adjust the volume. Murphy couldn't be bothered to put a label on whatever was happening between them just yet.

She knew she liked tonight's date.

A little later, she teased him about his advice to get used to it, asking whether he intended to keep treating her this attentively.

Dean clearly didn't consider it a question worth agonizing over.

“If you like it, why would I stop?”

Murphy had asked casually, but his reply left her quiet for a moment.

He said it as though there was no reason this couldn't go on indefinitely. It hadn't even occurred to him to give it an expiration date.

The thought made Murphy feel unexpectedly tender toward him.

She lowered her head and took a sip of her drink. After a moment, she said softly, “Then keep it up.”

Dean smiled. “You got it.”

Music continued playing inside the car.

They were already sitting close together, and even after he'd answered, Dean kept looking at her.

Murphy fell quiet, content to let the moment develop on its own.

Dean reached up and tucked a strand of hair away from her face where the breeze had blown it. His fingertips brushed her ear before settling gently against the side of her neck.

Her heart began beating faster. He was coming closer, close enough that she could feel his breath.

Murphy knew what might happen next. More than that, she was starting to look forward to it.

Dean lowered his head toward her, then stopped when only a sliver of space separated them.

Murphy waited two seconds.

Dean didn't draw away. The hand against her neck slid around to the back and drew her toward him instead. Murphy found herself unexpectedly pulled into his arms, and she quickly wrapped hers around him.

He held her tightly, one hand resting against her back. Murphy buried her face against his shoulder and felt his heart beating much faster than usual.

That delighted her.

They stayed like that for some time. Murphy expected Dean to be the first to let go, but he showed absolutely no inclination to do so.

She couldn't help laughing against his shoulder.

“So this is the improved treatment?”

“Is it enough for now?”

Murphy considered the question seriously.

“No. I'll need a hug every day.”

Dean tightened his arms around her a little more.

Eventually, he loosened his grip. Murphy was still resting against his chest, and their faces were close again.

This time, Dean didn't hesitate.

His lips touched hers lightly, even more gently than Murphy had expected. She froze for an instant, then tilted her face upward to kiss him back.

Their first kiss was brief.

When they parted, Dean stayed close and watched her.

To Murphy's own surprise, her first thought was simply this.

She'd been right. Those lips were made for kissing.

Before she could tease him about it, Dean leaned in and kissed her again.

This time was nothing like the first.

His hand closed around the back of her neck, and the kiss turned deep and urgent. Murphy tilted back under the pressure, then reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer again.

Whatever restraint he'd shown before seemed to vanish.

Dean's other hand moved to her waist and drew her against him through the fabric of her clothes. Murphy pressed close enough to feel his heartbeat. Before long, she was struggling to catch her breath.

She'd thought she would take this calmly. It turned out she had been completely wrong.

Being held and kissed like this by someone she'd liked for so long was nothing like imagining it.

Dean didn't seem any more composed.

Murphy gripped the collar at the back of his neck and drew away slightly to breathe. A moment later, he kissed her again, even more intensely. She leaned farther into his arms, and the hand at her lower back tightened.

If they kept going, things might get a little dangerous.

The thought had barely crossed Murphy's mind when Dean stopped first.

He didn't release her, merely pulled back a little, keeping one steady hand at her waist.

They rested their foreheads together while they caught their breath.

Murphy's lips felt numb. Actually, her whole body was tingling. Her breathing was still uneven, but she was absurdly happy.

“Well?” Dean asked, licking his lips. “How was that?”

“How was what?” Murphy pretended not to understand.

“My performance.”

She suppressed a laugh and pretended to consider it carefully.

“Barely a pass.”

Dean looked deeply unconvinced and immediately leaned in to improve his score.

Murphy caught him by the chest before he reached her. “That's enough.”

“Thought you said it wasn't enough?”

“The daily hug requirement still stands,” Murphy reminded him. “This is a separate category.”

Dean laughed softly, gave her one more kiss, and finally let go.

They settled back into their seats. Murphy straightened her rumpled clothes, and Dean took a little time to recover his composure before starting the engine again.

“Home?”

“Home.”

It was already late when they set off.

Baby rolled back onto the highway. Murphy leaned against the passenger seat and listened to the music. The lingering sensation on her lips took a long time to fade. Dean drove slowly. Neither of them was in a hurry.

Murphy suddenly remembered the shopping list she still hadn't finished revising on her laptop.

She made a decision. The day after Dean broke his contract, she would take both brothers to see their new house.