Title: Ramble On

Author: CynicalAuthoress

Fandom: Supernatural/One Tree Hill

Rating: M, to be safe.

Pairing(s): Dean/Haley, Sam/Brooke

Summary: There it was. That incredible stare that saw right through him. Haley James, gorgeous brown eyes and a mind as sharp as anything he might've had in his trunk, sitting in the backseat and reading him over. Just freaking great. D/H drabbles.

Chapter Summary: She was graceful, and just when he thought she'd run out of grace for him, she opened her arms.

Warning: Gore, Violence, Strong Language, Sexual Situations

Notes: I've wanted to do this for a while; now I will :)

Extremely short. 705 words, to be exact. Wish I could've made it longer...but alas, I did not.

I borrowed that "creeping the customers out" line from Haley in 3x21. I've also mentioned ghosts being the specific problem in TH because...let's face it, with Keith and Quentin, the spiritual force in Tree Hill is strong. LOL.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine, although I wouldn't object to the ownership of Jensen Ackles. Yum.

–

She was graceful.

Dean knew that too well, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She'd sit with Sam for hours and let him talk in ways that he just couldn't with Dean. Not without somehow offending him, making him feel guilty. Dean knew. It was Sam's way of just...letting it out. This job was tough enough to make you think you had to carry alone. And, while Dean had gotten proficient at this over the years, like it or not – Sam still needed help along the way.

Haley, with her warm smile and frequent honesty.

Starting these trips to Tree Hill wasn't Dean's idea of safe. You hang around somewhere too long, you're bound to bring trouble with you. That was a way of life with hunters. And Tree Hill, despite the ghost problems that had drawn them there in the first place, wasn't hunting territory. Wasn't fit for the supernatural. But the moment he saw her, he wanted to see her again.

God, he was a freaking idiot.

Matter of fact, that was what he sounded like now: a freakin' lovestruck idiot.

Awesome.

When he came back from Hell, that was when he really needed her. But the first thing he hears when he calls her is yelling. Traditionally, he was against arguing. It was a good enough reason not to be in a relationship with someone. But Sam had told her Dean was in hell. Now, he was back. And even when you knew about the supernatural, how the fuck did you explain that one?

The next thing he hears is muffled tears from over the phone. And a smart-aleck comment about "Winchesters and their damn drama". He can't help but smirk into the phone. He loves the graceful, quiet side of her, but her half-hearted sarcasm isn't bad to hear either.

A few days later, he's suddenly sitting there. Parked outside Karen's cafe. Sitting on the hood of the impala.

He watches her travel from table to table, smiling at everyone but him. She looks happy. He isn't even sure what he's doing here anymore. Sam's somewhere, pining over Brooke. He's watching from the outside of that life, too afraid to participate from within.

He's a freakin' coward, that's what he is.

And, when he turns away to leave, he hears it. First, the chime of the door. Then, the slow footsteps across empty traffic. He doesn't need to see her to know, clearly, he's been had.

"You know, you're creeping out some of the customers," she calls out to him. When he turns around to face her, she continues. "And it's a lot easier to keep tabs on me inside."

He almost chuckles, but she's looking concerned and, when she stares, it's more like she's staring through him, than at him. He settles for a smile. "I wasn't sure you'd see me."

It's a double-entendre, and they both know it.

"I wasn't either," she answers eventually, and there's a silence between them.

Dean takes advantage of it and looks her over. From the silky golden blonde hair that barely slips down her back, to her chestnut brown eyes, bright and warm, to the soft skin at her waist that he now just itched to touch. It all seems like what he missed most about being alive. There was Sammy, the hunt...and there was her.

"I missed you, Hales," he breathes out. It sounds so damn cheesy when he really thinks about it, but it's true. And if cheesy means she's still in his life, then who the hell really cares?

But he doesn't have much time to think about it, because, before he knows it, she's wrapped up in his arms (her own locked around his neck) and he's breathing in perfume and, God help him, purple wildflowers. He almost laughs at how fucking good feels. How he almost feels like he can do this, live again, even with the endless amount of unknowns ahead.

"I missed you too," is the muffled breath against his neck.

She was graceful, and just when he thought she'd run out of grace for him, she opened her arms.