the way we danced - SN ficlet - PG

[tigriswolf]

Title: the way we danced

Fandom: “Supernatural”

Disclaimer: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Denise Levertov.

Warnings: spoilers for season one

Pairings: Dean/Cassie

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 680

Point of view: third

 

 

            Cassie learned about skin color in first grade when Mark Castillo called her a nigger. She’d never known about it before. The word didn’t hurt, not till later, but the tone—he sounded so angry and she had no idea why. Mrs. Wilson put him in time-out and didn’t let him go to recess. She also gave Cassie extra cookies at snack.

            Cassie asked Mama about the word and Mama cried. Daddy hugged her close. All they said was it was nasty and hateful, but words can’t hurt, not really, unless you let them.

            That was Cassie’s first experience with racism. There were never very many over the years, just some comments here and there, but she read her history books and listened to the old folks who had lived it. Her mother told her to marry a black man because straddling the line was so hard.

            “I would do it again,” Mom said. “I love your daddy that much. But I want an easier life for you.”

            She chose journalism and made good grades and had dozens of friends but none that were very close. Cassie wanted to succeed and had no time for frivolities. She’d had two boyfriends in her entire life, neither of which lasted longer than a year. 

            “Are you happy?” Mom asked. “That’s all I want for you.”

            “Take a break,” Dad said. “You’ll burn out.”

            But Cassie knew her limits, and knew she had reserves of strength left that hadn’t even been touched.

            It was just after her twenty-third birthday when Dean Winchester padded into her life, like a giant cat in James Dean’s coat. He was gorgeous and funny and sweet—and dangerous. So very very dangerous.  Cassie had never been boy-crazy, but missed days of work for him. He took her to art galleries and museums and for walks in the park. They fell into bed and worshipped each other, and Cassie felt out-of-control. She liked it.

            She traced his scars, kissed each one, and said, “Tell me.” He made up fanciful stories and she listened to his heartbeat.

            It lasted for almost a month. Then he told her he hunted ghosts and she tossed him out of her life.

            Cassie went back home, went to work with Dad, and tried to forget Dean Winchester, his hands and eyes and, God, his lips. She dreamed about him and fantasized about him, the first white boy she ever kissed. He had never seemed to notice the dirty looks from little old ladies and grizzled old men. Cassie ignored them, but Dean didn’t see them, and Cassie had to remind herself he was crazy when the regret caused tears in her eyes.

            He was crazy and clearly wanted to break-up—why else say something so out there? But even when he was hurt and angry, he had never said the slurs that others dropped so easily, with such glee. He had stared at her with those eyes, so wide and aching, and though he’d opened his mouth, he said nothing.

            She’d yelled, “Get out!” and he went. He could have torn her apart—she’d felt the power in his body, the strength in his hands. He could have beaten her, with fists or words, and she’d known other men that would’ve. But she told him to go and he did. He drove out of town in his behemoth of a car and left her crying.

            Cassie had thought about forever, had imagined them as old and happy, like her parents, still in love after almost forty years. But Dean had to tell her some bullshit story, trying to break-up, and then she went home. Alone.

            She had no time for dating or friends. She was either at the paper or writing, trying to make it big, with breaks for eating, sleeping, and visiting her parents.

            “You’ll burn out,” Dad said. “Slow down, baby. You’re young. Go out and have fun!”

            “I will, Dad,” she promised, and went right back to work.

            Two weeks later, she called Dean and he didn’t seem that crazy at all.

 

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[tigriswolf]

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