Venom

013

There was something wrong with Dean.

At some point during the night he started breathing deeply, unevenly. He was panting, and it sounded painful. When Helen heard his choked breaths, she quickly turned to him. He was still asleep, his arms under the pillow, but he was mumbling something. A name.

Helen tried to stretch out a hand to wake him up, but the handcuffs stopped her. She cursed under her breath. He wasn't going to like this, but the nightmare he was stuck into sounded more painful than a kick in the shin.

Dean felt Helen's cold foot against his leg, and immediately shot up. He looked at her, ready to snap her neck, but she was just staring back at him with...worry? Damn, he must have been dreaming.

As soon as she looked at him, he seemed lost. Like he had no idea who he - and she - was and what he was doing there. Then, he blinked, and he was himself again. "Are you okay?" she asked, keeping her voice low as though she might wake their neighbors - if there were any.

Dean rubbed his hands on his face, trying to focus. When the world didn't seem blurred anymore he took a breath, dropping his hands in his lap. "I'm fine," he stated, getting out of bed and walking towards the bathroom.

Helen didn't push it. What did she expect? That he would suddenly start opening up to her and tell her all his problems?

So Helen lay back down, and rolled on her side, trying to fall asleep. The water in the shower started running, and remained open for twenty minutes. Was he drowning in there? She should check on him. She could snap the needle out and free her hands.
No. She didn't care. She couldn't care.

At last, Dean decided to get out of his ice cold shower. He'd stayed in there until the water stopped feeling like water and started darting against his skin like bullets. He wrapped a towel around his waist and got out of the bathroom, back into the dark bedroom.

Helen thanked God that there was no light. The idea that he might see her blushing face made her even redder. Though, she was glad there was moonlight pouring in just enough for her to take a better look at his painted torso, wet muscles popping out and gleaming in the dim light. Luckily, she was cuffed. She didn't think she would have stayed in bed with her hands to herself if she had been free.

Dean looked for another pair of sweatpants after the other one felt dirty with the memories of his latest nightmare. He was tempted to get dressed in front of Helen, but he was too drained to start another teasing session. And he was too unstable to be sure that he'd be able to stop at the teasing. So, he went back into the bathroom and got changed, soon lying back in bed, where Helen was down, but staring at him. He didn't want her pity. Yet, he wanted to get distracted. "Sorry I woke you up," he said.

Helen hummed. "It's okay. You need anything?" she asked, trying to be caring.

Dean lay on his back, his eyes covered by his arm. He breathed a laugh. "Do I need anything? What could I need?" There was nothing that could help him. He knew it, he'd tried to find a cure or something that ended dreams completely. Nothing worked.

Helen shrugged, sitting up. "I don't know. A hug?" she joked. He laughed again, this time more genuinely. It actually sounded quite pleasant, his laugh. Warm and deep. Especially with his voice hoarse by the sleep.

Dean looked at her, unable to erase the smile on his mouth before meeting her eyes. "No. I don't need a hug, thanks. I need..." He exhaled, thinking. He pinched the bridge of his nose with to fingers. "I need a drink," he stated then, getting up again from the bed and going towards the kitchen.

"Hey!" she called. He turned around, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. "Aren't you gonna ask me if I want a drink, too?" she pointed out. Keeping her eyes on his face and not his body was a challenge.