"That was very good," Morgan said as she set her napkin back in her lap. "You keep feeding me like this, you're going to spoil me."

He smiled as he stood and took their plates to the sink. "Good. That's what I'm aiming for."

"You need help with those?" she asked as she gathered up their glasses.

"Nah." He took the glasses from her before she could go any further with them. "I'm just going to leave them for Adam anyway. Dishes are his job."

"Even when he doesn't get to eat the food?" Morgan leaned against the counter as he rinsed the dishes and stacked them by the dishwasher for Adam.

"Hey, I made enough. I already put the leftovers in the fridge for him."

She laughed. "You don't have to defend yourself. If I were responsible for dinner, he'd be making his own frozen dinners."

"C'mon, let's go sit down. The living room's more comfortable."

They curled up on the couch. She wondered if he would turn on the TV or the stereo, but he seemed content just to sit with her in silence. The only sound was the ticking of Adam's grandfather clock.

She chuckled after a moment. "That noise would drive me crazy. I purposely buy clocks that don't tick noisily."

"You learn to tune it out," he said. "But it was rough for a while."

"Jeremy bought me a clock once – for my birthday one year, I think – that absolutely drove me up the wall. It was a beautiful crystal clock, but it sounded like a metronome. I moved it from my dresser to my closet, and I finally had to put it in the guest room – it's still there, I think. Later on, he admitted that he'd gone to a clock shop and bought the one with the loudest tick he could find. I almost threw it at him."

Dean laughed. "I don't know Jeremy very well, but that does seem to be something he would do."

"He loves practical jokes," she said, smiling as she remembered some of his more elaborate pranks. They were usually funny to everyone except the target.

"He doesn't like Adam very much, does he?"

"No," Morgan said with a laugh, emphatically shaking her head. "No, they really don't get along. Adam propositioned Jeremy the first time they met, Jeremy insulted him, and it all went downhill from there. I thought they were going to get physical – and not in the way Adam had intended. For some reason, Adam still thinks Jeremy's just playing hard to get. You notice Jeremy sat as far away from Adam as he possibly could on Saturday night?"

He smirked, resting his cheek on her hair. "I noticed that, yes." There was another quiet moment, and he asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"No. Thank you, but don't you dare move. This is nice. I don't think we've ever had a chance to just relax together."

"Both too busy, I guess," he murmured. He pulled her close to his side and pressed a kiss to her temple, and then to her cheek. She smiled and turned into his kiss, capturing his lips with hers.

He growled with satisfaction, shifting so that he leaned against the arm of the couch, with her laying halfway across his body. Her arm fell lightly against his stomach, and she kneaded the soft material of his shirt between her fingers, stroking the hard ab muscles under her hand.

Dean nipped at her, nibbling and lapping at her mouth as he wrapped her in his arms. He slid one hand up her arm to caress her neck and the spot under her ear that made her shiver. Pulling her hair down from the loose knot it was held in, he began to sift it through his fingers, cradling the back of her head and drawing her into his kiss.

They broke apart to breathe, and he peppered soft kisses over her face. She laughed with delight, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

"You feel so good," he whispered breathlessly, and she nodded against his lips. Burying her face in his neck, she breathed in the scent of him and pressed against his body, molding herself to him.

Dean pressed a hand into the small of her back, arching up into her, and she felt his body stirring against her, responding to her closeness. Morgan felt joy and need – and power – sizzle through her like an electric current, and she kissed him again, harder, aching to feel more of him.

Brushing her chest against his, she gasped at the sensation, and Dean moaned, kissing her more fiercely. He shifted his legs, and her body moved further into him, slipping between the juncture of his thighs. He thrust a hard, muscled thigh between her legs, pressing her body tightly against his, and the ache she felt intensified tenfold.

Sparks danced through her, building with each trembling breath she took. His hand slid underneath her shirt, stroking the skin of her back, playing around the edges of her bra. A finger slipped underneath the fabric, gliding over the skin beneath.

Morgan broke the kiss, opening her eyes to study his face. His eyes drifted open, heavy lidded and dark with desire.

"Hmm?" he asked, his voice husky and hoarse with want. His fingers kept grazing the soft skin of her breast, sending need spiraling deeper and deeper within her.

"Nothing," she murmured, lowering her head. She pressed a kiss to his adam's apple, laughing as it jumped when he gasped. She fluttered kisses over his neck and his chest where the collar of his shirt parted. Hissing in pleasure, he rested his head against the back of the couch and bucked up into her body.

Swiftly, he rolled to his right, and she squeaked in surprise as it tipped her off of him. Long, and lean, and hot, his body pressed her into the back of the couch, and she wrapped her leg over his thigh so that their lower bodies melded seamlessly against each other.

Their mouths found each other again, mimicking the erotic dance below as their bodies strained against each other. Dean cupped her breast through her bra, and she hummed with satisfaction, arching into his hand. He swept his fingers over the firm peak, and she gasped.

"God, Morgan," he moaned, and he lowered his head to nuzzle at her. His hands slid down to her waist to inch her shirt up, and then the garage door growled and grumbled as it opened.

They flew apart, and Morgan caught Dean as he jumped backward and almost fell off the couch. They both quickly sat up to adjust their rumpled clothing.

Morgan noticed his hands were shaking as he re-buttoned his shirt and swept a hand through his hair. Her own body was trembling with unfulfilled need, but it was a wonderful feeling, one she hadn't felt in far too long.

"Okay, this is ridiculous," Dean muttered. "I need to get my own place. I'm not going to feel like a damn teenager in my own living room."

She trailed a finger down his chest. "Oh, I don't know, I thought it was kind of fun." He growled, only half in annoyance, and she giggled, leaning back against his chest. "How come you haven't?" she asked, looking up at him. She lowered her voice, though Adam hadn't come in the house yet. "Moved out, I mean. I don't care how little rent he's charging you, he's definitely not an ideal housemate. I know him, remember?"

Dean chuckled, and she sighed with pleasure as she felt the vibrations of his laugh. "I haven't felt the need until now," he said. "We keep mostly to ourselves, and..." He lowered his head, nuzzling her just beneath the ear. "The neighborhood is nice. There's this one girl, she lives next door..." He nipped at her, and she laughed. "She's really cute," he whispered in her ear.

The door from the garage slammed. Adam trudged through the hallway towards his bedroom, and then he stopped and leaned backward, sticking his head into the living room.

"Do I need to turn the garden hose on you two?"

Dean sighed. "There's no need to be crude, Adam. We're just talking."

Morgan bit her lip to suppress her mortified laughter. Oh, yes, she thought. There was definitely some pretty heavy talking going on!

"I was just about to walk her home," Dean said as he tried to surreptitiously glance at the hulking clock in the corner. "It's late."

Home... to my empty house... with no interfering housemates... she thought with a shiver. Dean felt it and rubbed his hand comfortingly up and down her arm.

"Night, Adam," she said, hoping her voice didn't tremble noticeably.

"Night, Morgan," he said, and she was sure she wasn't imagining the disapproval in his tone.

"There's food in the fridge if you're hungry," Dean called, but Adam made no reply as he disappeared down the hall.

"You working Friday?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Nope. Day off – they're switching me to nights and evenings for a while, starting Saturday, and they give you a day off in between."

"I have tickets to the Angels game Friday. You interested? Or do you hate baseball?"

Morgan shrugged. "I don't hate it – my father loved it, and so did Jason. He played all throughout high school and college. We used to go to games – his games, of course, and some professional games. It was fun, though I never got very much into it because of course my brother loved it, so it couldn't be any good."

Dean chuckled, but he held her tighter, hearing the wistful tone in her voice as she spoke of her family.

"You sure you don't want to take someone else? A real fan? Does Adam like baseball?"

Dean laughed. "Adam? You kidding? He hates sports. If I take him, all he'll do is whine."

"And how do you know I won't?" she asked with a coy smile.

"Well, if you do," he said, punctuating his words with quick kisses, "It'll be in a much prettier voice than his."

"Well, how could I refuse such an offer?" she asked, laughing. "I'd love to go."

"Great!" He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I'd say ‘I'll pick you up at 5:45,' but it's not like I'll be driving anywhere to get you."

"You walk me home, so why can't you pick me up?"

Dean grinned. "Very true. Okay, then, I'll pick you up at 5:45."

"Sounds good."

"Let's get you home."

They walked hand in hand to her door, and Morgan turned to him, taking a deep breath.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked, hoping her nervousness wasn't completely obvious to him.

Dean gazed into her eyes, studying her face. "I'd love to," he finally said, just as she was about to shake him to make him answer.

She smiled shakily. "Okay. Well, good."

He returned her smile. "It might be easier for us to go in if you open the door," he murmured when she made no further move.

Morgan was lost in his smile. "What? Oh!" Turning, she fumbled her key into the lock with trembling hands.

When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was paper. Everywhere.

"What the hell?"

Dean grasped her shoulder, stopping her from entering. "What is it?" he asked, his voice full of concern as he peered over her shoulder.

The paper was in tiny pieces. Tiny, shredded, chewed looking pieces. Morgan narrowed her eyes as the realization hit.

"Chaos!"

There was a yelp and the sound of claws scrabbling fast over tile in the opposite direction.

"What happened?" he asked her. When she took a glance at him, his eyes were wide as he surveyed the damage. "Wow."

Morgan sighed. "I left him in the house during dinner. I didn't think there'd be a problem. I wasn't really planning to be gone for a long time, or I wouldn't have done it. I thought he'd be okay for a little while. Looks like I was gone a little too long and he got into the newspaper – oh, dammit, and the mail."

Dean looked contrite. "I'm sorry. I kept you – "

She turned her back on the mess, putting a hand on his chest and looking him in the eye. "Don't be sorry. The lateness of the hour was the last thing on my mind. I was..." She looked down, feeling her face flush. "I was having a wonderful time."

He tipped her chin up, giving her a quick, reassuring kiss. "Good. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Morgan. I was, too. Having a wonderful time, I mean."

She sighed again, looking over her shoulder. "I really would love for you to come in, Dean, and I mean that sincerely. But I have to clean this mess up. I'm sort of afraid to see what else he's done."

"I understand," Dean said with a nod. "There'll be other nights."

God, I hope so, Morgan thought, frustrated. And soon, or I'm going to explode!

"Do you need any help?" he asked, staring again at the mess.

"No," Morgan said, shaking her head. "No, I'll manage. I just have to figure out what bills he destroyed."

"You mean, ‘The dog ate my statement' isn't an acceptable excuse for late payment?" His eyes were sparkling with laughter, and she grinned weakly.

"I suppose I could try it."

"How could they refuse you?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her once more and giving her a quick hug. "You sure you don't need my help?" he asked as he stepped back to arm's length.

"No, but thank you." She moved closer again and gave him a kiss, intending for it to be quick, but Dean caught her and held her, deepening it before she could move away.

It was a kiss full of the promise of things to come. His tongue plunged into her mouth, claiming her as it mated and played with hers. She pulled away smiling and breathless.

"Good night," he murmured. "Don't kill him, okay?"

"I won't," she laughed. "Good night."

When the door closed behind him, she stalked off to find the puppy.

"Chaos!" she snapped. "When I find you, I'm gonna kill you!"

— ² –

Chaos sat in the armchair by her bed on Friday afternoon, watching her with his head cocked as she tried to figure out what to wear. He sniffed at her teddy bear, and she snapped her fingers.

"You touch him, and you sleep outside for a month," she warned.

He laid his head back down on his paws and watched her, yipping every time she tossed another shirt on her bed.

"I don't have anything red!" she grumbled.

Dean had called her from his office at lunchtime to confirm their date for the game. He'd sounded frazzled.

"God, I can't wait to see you," he'd murmured. "This place is driving me nuts."

"Dean!" she'd heard someone shout in the background. "Line one! And then line four!"

He'd sighed. "I gotta go. I'll see you tonight. Oh! Wear something red, if you have it, okay?"

"What? Red?"

"Yes, red! Bye!"

So now, here she was, tearing apart her closet. She favored black and blue and green. The occasional white or grey t-shirt. No red.

"Ha!" she exclaimed as she dug deeper and found a red and white and black checkered shirt. "This will have to do."

Morgan froze as an idea occurred to her. Slowly, and with trepidation, she walked out of the room and down the hall. Chaos jumped off the chair and trotted at her heels. She stopped in front of the closed door of the room that had been her brother's.

Though he hadn't been living at home for several years at the time of his death, their parents hadn't done anything with Jason's room, so it had remained much as it had always looked. After their deaths, when she'd finally been able to do it without collapsing from grief, she'd boxed up some of her parents' belongings and placed them in Jason's room. After that, the door had always stayed closed, and she only went in there occasionally to dust.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan opened the door. She closed her eyes as a voice drifted to her from the past. Get out of my room, squirt!

She took a few steps in and stopped, just gazing around. The object she was looking for was draped over a bedpost. Morgan forced herself to take a few more steps in, but she whirled around when Chaos began to follow her.

"No! Stay out of here!" she said sternly, and the dog cowered and sat in the doorway. She grabbed the ball cap and hurried from the room, shutting the door forcefully behind her.

"What do you think, boy?" she asked, but the dog cringed from her voice. "Aww," she said, reaching down to scoop him up. "Sorry, boy, didn't mean to snap. I still love you. But look! You think he'll be surprised if I wear it?"

She showed the dog the cap, and he sniffed curiously at it. Navy blue with a red brim, haloed A on the front. It was well worn, well loved, and well taken care of. She wondered if Jason would mind her wearing it.

"Think he'd be mad?" she asked Chaos, trying to ignore how her voice was shaking. "I think he'd like Dean, don't you? I hope so, anyway." Chaos licked her face, and she laughed. "Guess you agree, then."

She settled the cap on her head. It was a fitted cap, sized to her brother's head and therefore a little big, but it was perfect. "Perfect," she murmured, cuddling Chaos close to her chest.

— ² –

"Hey," Dean said as she opened the door, and then he broke into a huge smile. "Wow, that's a great cap! Classic! Where'd you get it?"

"It was Jason's. He wore it all the time. I don't know if... I mean... I thought it would be..." She shrugged and trailed off.

His smile changed, becoming softer, gentler. "It looks great on you," he said, pulling her closer and giving her a quick kiss. When he let her go, she backed up and did a quick pirouette, arms out at her sides.

"This okay?" she asked. "It's all I had that has red in it."

"It's perfect."

Morgan sighed in relief. "Good. You look great, by the way."

Dean was wearing a deep red polo shirt with dark jeans, a red ball cap turned backward on his head. He grinned. "Thanks. Ready?"

"Yep."

"You put the monster out?" he asked, and she laughed.

"Yep. My mail is safe."

"Then let's go!"

When he turned, taking her hand in his, she noticed that the A on his cap was a little more modern, a little more stylized than hers. They crossed to his driveway, and he headed for his truck.

"No bike?" she asked in disappointment.

His face was apologetic as he shook his head. "Not tonight – I feel safer going to the stadium in a bigger vehicle; there's too much traffic before and after the game, and people act crazy in the parking lots. We'll go for a ride soon, I promise."

"The company truck, though?"

"I won't tell if you won't tell."

She laughed. "We can take my car if it'll keep you from getting into trouble."

"Nah. Save your gas – I'm allowed to use it for moderate personal use."

When they were in his truck, she asked, "So who are they playing, anyway? I didn't even ask."

"Texas," he answered. "First of a three game series."

Morgan nodded, lapsing back into silence.

"So," he said after a moment. "You said your brother played?" When she glanced at him, he looked uncomfortable. "I mean... if you don't want to talk about it... about him... I – "

"No," she interrupted him. "It's okay. Yeah, Jason played first base, did a little pitching. He was pretty good too. Or at least, that's what his coaches said. Endlessly, afterward. ‘He had such potential, it's such a shame.' Like the worst thing about it was that they lost a great player. Never mind the fact that he was – gone."

She stared out the window at the scenery blurring by. After a moment, Dean's hand settled on her thigh, rubbing it gently. She sighed.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan," he murmured, and when she turned to look at him, he was glancing back and forth between her and the road.

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get all bitter on you. I miss him."

"I – I didn't mean to stir up memories with this."

She smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, really. They're memories of Jase. Good memories, he really did love this game, and this team. And we'll make new ones. And those will be good too."

Dean grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

"Didn't you say you played football and wrestled?" she asked. When he nodded, she added, "But you're a baseball fan?"

He shrugged. "I always wanted to play baseball, but I can't hit a curveball to save my life. My career ended in Little League. I can hit people though, and take them down, so that's what I did."

She chuckled. "Well, that's good to know. If I ever need a bodyguard, I'll call you."

"You better."

— ² –

The stadium was filling up quickly when they arrived, and he led her to their seats, about six rows up right behind first base. She smiled at the coincidence, thinking how Jason would have loved these seats.

"These are great seats!" she told Dean. "We used to sit up... right about up there," she told him, pointing at the far reaches of the upper deck.

He laughed. "They're the company's. They give them to us to woo customers with, and nobody was using them this weekend, so I snagged a pair."

"'Big Bang Friday'," she read on the jumbotron, and then the graphic caught her eye. She turned to him excitedly. "Fireworks?"

He laughed. "I had tickets to tomorrow's game, but I traded with one of the other salesmen – I knew you'd like tonight's better."

"You're the best!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him close to plant a quick kiss on him.

Dean laughed, his cheeks turning a faint pink at her praise. "I try."

The game started, and though Morgan tried to concentrate on the action on the field, she found herself captivated by Dean. She tried not to stare at him, but she was fascinated by the shifting moods and expressions she saw on his face. He was happy when the team was doing well, and upset when they made a mistake, and as he followed the game, she followed him.

She was watching him with a smile on her face after one of the Angels – the cute second baseman, she noted absently – hit a two run home run. He glanced over at her.

"You're not watching," he said.

"I am too," she said with a smile, recalling the similar conversation they'd had during the fireworks at the park. "It's very interesting."

He laughed. "You having a good time?"

"I'm having a great time."

"Want something to drink? I think I'm gonna go get a beer."

"Surprise me."

He grinned wickedly. "That could be dangerous."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "I think I'm safe with you. And if something happens, I know where you live. My friends will come and find you, and between all of them, I'm sure they can manage to kick your ass."

He laughed. "I don't doubt it. I'll be right back."

While he was gone, she pondered their last exchange. Months before, she would have been worried and confused by his words, wondering at his meaning and his motives. But now, she just smiled. He was only teasing, and she wasn't worried about him trying to get into her pants. If that's all he wanted, she thought, He would have either tried harder or given up long ago.

Having eaten dinner with her for months now, he knew she wasn't a big beer drinker. When he came back, he handed her what looked to her like cranberry juice and vodka.

She glanced from it to his smiling face. "Where'd you get this?"

"I had to travel far and wide to find it..." he said dramatically, taking a sip of his beer.

Morgan laughed. "Dope. Where'd you get it?"

"There's a little bar next to the beer vendor. Makes it handy for more... discriminating tastes."

"Finicky drinkers, you mean," she said and Dean just shrugged, giving her a wry smile.

"You said it, not me."

She laughed. "Thanks," she said, raising her glass to him before taking a sip. "Mmm... it's perfect."

"You're welcome. Anything for my girl."

A thrill went through her at his words, and she smiled giddily as she took another sip of her drink.

By the time the game ended – happily, in an Angels victory, though it had been a close game the whole way through – she'd had three drinks and she felt pleasantly buzzed. Dean had stopped after two, because he was driving. The game had ended, but nobody was leaving. The field lights dimmed, and she beamed in anticipation.

It was a wonderful show, and she watched with a smile on her face. It wasn't quite as amazing as the show at the park, but it was still beautiful. She oohed and aahed and cheered just as much as the little boy next to her, sticking her tongue out at Dean when he laughed good-naturedly at her enthusiasm.

— ² –

"Thanks for inviting me," she told him in the car as they neared their neighborhood.

Dean glanced over at her and smiled before turning back to the road. "You're very welcome. I'm glad you had a good time."

"I had a wonderful time."

Her hand lay on the seat between them, and he covered it with his, squeezing it gently. "I'm glad," he repeated. "I was hoping you would."

When they got to Dean's house, he pulled into the driveway, but she stopped him as he reached for the remote to open the garage.

"Don't wake him," she murmured, knowing how loud their garage door was. "We'll go next door, and you can leave the truck in the driveway for now."

Dean studied her appraisingly, a predatory look in his dark eyes. Inwardly, she shivered, but she gave him what she hoped was a confident smile. Without another word, she got out of the truck, her smile growing when she heard Dean scrambling to follow her.

When she stopped on the porch to search for her keys, he stepped up very close behind her, and his nearness almost made her drop her purse. Trying to hide how flustered she was, she unlocked the door and led him into the house.

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked as she tossed her coat on the couch.

Dean caught her wrist, tugging her to him. "No," he murmured huskily. "I don't want coffee."

When he kissed her, it was gentle, patient, but determined. She melted into his body, and he splayed one hand across the small of her back, holding her steady as he rocked against her.

Breaking the kiss, he removed her brother's cap from her head, tossing it gently onto the couch before tangling his fingers in her hair. She reached up to grab his cap off his head, and she couldn't stifle her giggle.

His eyes popped open. "That's not a good sound."

"Sorry," she laughed. "Hat head."

He tried to smooth his hair down, and she caught his hand. "Don't," she murmured. "I like it." She slid her hands into his hair, stretching up to capture his lips with hers.

"Wait," she murmured after a long moment, pulling away. "Not here... I'm not feeling like a teenager tonight," she said, and he chuckled, his voice hoarse with desire.

Taking him by the hand, she turned, but he moved in close to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He ground his hips against her body, nipping at her neck.

"Dean..." she moaned, her breath catching in her throat. "Oh..."

"God, Morgan," he whispered, as he slid his hand beneath her shirt to cup her breast. He swept his thumb along the peak, groaning low in his throat as it pebbled beneath his fingertip. "So beautiful..."

She tried to pull away. "No."

"Yes," he said vehemently, holding her tighter. "Beautiful." He thrust his hips against her, and liquid want pooled deep within her as she felt the heat and the hardness of him.

"Come on," she murmured. "Not that the hallway wouldn't be nice..."

She led him to her bedroom, and she was fuzzily thankful that she'd cleaned up after trying to find something to wear before the game.

They were in her bedroom, and he was looking at her hungrily, eyes half-lidded and dark with lust. Morgan was suddenly overtaken by a wave of extreme anxiety. She turned halfway away from him, crossing her arms nervously over her chest.

"Morgan?"

Her cheeks were burning as she examined the pattern of her bedspread. "I..."

Dean grasped her shoulder and gently turned her back into his embrace. "Shh..." he said, kissing her temple, and then her cheek. "Just let go," he murmured as he rubbed her back. "Let go..."

He kissed her again, and she relaxed into his arms. Slipping her shirt over her shoulders, he tossed it aside, skimming his hands across her stomach. He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her closer, until she stood between his legs, her hands draped loosely around his neck. Hands cradling her hips, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss between her breasts before trailing his lips down her stomach.

Morgan climbed onto the bed, straddling him, pressing her body against him, and he hissed in pleasure. She tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, pulling it over his head.

His chest was smooth, and hard, and she glided her fingertips over it, down his belly, watching as the muscles flexed and jumped beneath her touch. Dean arched his back, bucking up into her body, and she leaned forward, urging him further back onto the bed.

Her kisses were tentative, but she grew more confident as the sparks ignited, and soon she forgot her nervousness as they lost themselves in each other.

— ² –

Morgan hummed with pleasure as she awoke, curled on her side like normal, and then she froze as she realized she wasn't alone in her bed – definitely not normal. There was a heavy arm thrown over her waist, fingertips curled into a loose fist, resting on her stomach. A still, sleeping presence behind her, and soft, steady breaths in her ear.

She craned her head back and caught a glimpse of Dean sleeping peacefully behind her, his face serene, his hair invitingly tousled.

Memories of the night before came back to her with a rush of remembered pleasure, and she closed her eyes, smiling happily. She needed to stretch, but she didn't want to move, didn't want to wake Dean.

Muscles she'd nearly forgotten about were aching, but it was a good, full ache, a satisfied ache, and she lay sated in his arms.

Watching the dust motes dance in a shaft of sunlight, she stayed motionless as she thought about the way Dean had made love to her. He'd been careful, gentle – almost too gentle, and that had told her that he was nervous too.

At least the first time, she thought with a wicked grin, and she felt her face flush as she remembered the second time. The hard, fast coupling in the middle of the night that had left them sweaty, breathless, and exhausted, tangled in the sheets. God, I can't believe that was me!

Dean muttered something unintelligible in his sleep and drew her closer, his arm tightening over her, and she moved willingly into his body.

She'd promised herself that she wouldn't compare him to Rob anymore, but she couldn't help but make one more. Rob had never cuddled, not even in his sleep. All throughout their relationship, whenever they had slept together, he'd slept on his side with his back to her. They'd woken up more than one morning with him plastered to the wall because she'd unconsciously moved towards him and he'd unconsciously moved away from her.

This is nice, she thought as she brought her hand up to rest on Dean's arm where it lay over her. More than nice. I could really get used to this.

She was just drifting off again when she felt him stirring behind her, his body moving gently against her as he began to wake up.

He froze momentarily, just as she had, but when he relaxed, he began to gently disentangle himself from her, obviously trying not to wake her. She turned in his arms, and he jumped in surprise.

"You're awake," he said, his eyes wide and still glassy with sleep.

"Mmm," she agreed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Morning. Did you sleep well?"

He stared at her, and she was concerned when she saw the half-confused, half-panicked look in his eyes. Just for a moment, it softened as she smiled nervously at him, and then it was back. He tried to pull away from her again, and she caught his arm.

"Dean..."

"Um, yeah. Slept well." His gaze darted around the room, never settling on anything and completely avoiding her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He pulled his arm away from her, and she either had to let go or get dragged across the bed.

"Then why are you so anxious to go? Why won't you look at me?"

"Nothing's wrong, Morgan." He looked into her eyes, but only for a moment, and that strange, panicked look was gone. His face was as unreadable to her as it had been when she'd first met him. "I just remembered I'm supposed to be in Oceanside by noon, and I think I'm going to be late."

He was already shrugging into his jeans and buttoning them, and she watched, speechless, as he pulled his shirt over his head and ran a hand through his hair.

"Dean, if something's wrong, let's talk about it. Don't run, please."

"I'm not running." He bit his lower lip, his expression conflicted as he obviously battled with himself about something, and then he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, running his hand through her hair.

"Don't go, not right now," Morgan pleaded, clutching the sheets to her body.

Dean glanced at the clock. "I'm gonna be late. I have to go. I'll... I'll talk to you soon, I promise."

She stared at the doorway long after he was gone, too stunned to cry.

On to Chapter 10