⊰Dancing on glass⊱
Novak had already returned to the shabby motel room with two big white bags that smelled heavenly of chinese food.
Dean suddenly remembered something.
“Hey, how’s your head?”
Novak looked confused for a moment as if he’d forgotten the whole thing but soon brought a hand up to the back of his head to feel the tender bump, and winced.
“Sore… but I’ll manage”
He surprised himself with the rush of wanting to take care of and protect and mine. He managed to block the feelings out and gave a sheepish grin. Desperate to break the tension he quirked an eyebrow at the bags overflowing with food and flopped down in one of the armchairs next to the couch.
“Are we expecting company?”, he chuckled.
Novak’s cheeks heated slightly and he shrugged a bit looking confused at the bags.
“I realised I didn’t know your preferences when it comes to food so I bought a little bit of everything”
His cheeks turned a darker shade of pink when he seemed to realise how it’d sounded. Dean felt a sudden pang in his heart watching the older man standing there looking flustered and strangely enough absolutely adorable. He felt a strong urge to be near him, to feel his warm skin, to remove every thread on his body, to-
he quickly shook that thought out of his head, his face joining Novak’s in heating a couple of shades darker. Novak awkwardly cleared his throat and headed for the small kitchenette with the bags. Dean exhaled deeply and sunk down in his seat, flinching lightly at the pain in his abdomen. Even though his brain was in shutdown mode he felt strongly drawn towards Novak- even after everything. He’d had to stop himself from following him to the kitchenette. The thoughts of the other man in various states of undress slowly crept back into his mind making his throat go suddenly dry.
“Water”, he said to himself firmly, and carefully got up to get a glass.
Novak was standing by the only counter in the small kitchenette, carefully unwrapping and placing the various foods on paper plates.