Plus, he’s had an itch under his skin ever since a certain 6’4” asshole waltzed into the diner earlier that day, placing the most pain in the ass order Jess has ever taken, and being a smug, condescending prick while he was at it.Это фик по 3.13, я чувствую, нас там ждет что-то интересное
“I’m done.”
Jess blinks.
“Done with what,” he says around the mouth of the bottle, raising one eyebrow and feigning disinterest as hard as he can, because it’s the only way to combat the dread that’s climbing up his chest. Because if Dean means what Jess thinks he means then he means he’s done with Jess. Done with whatever little game they’ve been playing all this time, done fighting for dominance, done having verbal battles and knocking his shoulder against him in the hallway at school and towering over him and looking at him like he’s a piece of shit.
And that’s just one more person to add to the list of people who’ve washed their hands of him.
His mother. His father. His entire family, in fact, except for Luke. Luke too, once he catches on that Jess isn’t following his rules, isn’t going to graduate, isn’t going to be worth anything, ever. Rory, soon enough, when she realizes the same thing.
At least when Dean is looking at him like he’s a piece of shit, he’s looking at him.
lol let’s all hold hands and pretend again that 18 year olds would be this skilled and dirty in bed.Ну нееет, блин, ну нахрена ты это делаешь?! они у тебя такие чудесные мальчишки оба,
“Wanna go for a drive?” Jess asks.
Dean gives him an incredulous look. He uncrosses his arms. Scoffs. Crosses them again.
“With you. You’re joking, right? Like I’d ever get in a moving vehicle with you.”
“I’ve got my papers. Passed the vision test and everything. They really try and throw in some curveballs with those unlabeled road signs, but —”
Dean squares his jaw, gaze going flat.
“Oh. Right…that.” Jess clicks his tongue softly, looking away. “Shame, that was.”
Dean huffs, looking properly angry now.
“Shame? You crashed a car I built by fucking hand!” He whisper-shouts, slapping his hands onto the sill and leaning toward Jess, breaths coming fast.
Jess studies his face, trying not to smile. He may have been a bit hasty earlier, with that whole “won’t happen again” thing.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his used joint, twirling it for a moment and raising an eyebrow in invitation.
Dean scoffs again, standing back up. He frowns, jaw working for three seconds before he’s striding decisively across the room, locking his door from the inside, grabbing a jacket off the hook by the door, and climbing out the window.
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