Venom

032

After four days of checking and double checking the plan, Helen, Dean, Savannah and Mickey finally looked at each other and nodded. It was done. Tomorrow, it would start.

That first day - after Dean had weeped in Helen's arms for a good fifteen minutes - the two assassins had barely been able to talk at the meeting. They both noticed Savannah and Mickey's confused glances.

What Dean had said that day... Come back home. But... what was home? Was it the Cage? Or was it this apartment?
Or was it Dean?
Why did he have to be so confusing?

Even though she wished she could stay away from him as much as possible, she realized all the equipment she'd need for the plan was at Dean's place. Awesome.
Someone up there really enjoyed putting her in awkward and uncomfortable situations, hm?

And since apparently God wasn't satisfied yet, He decided to send a goddamn storm on New York, causing Helen to reach Dean's apartment soaking wet. At least she wasn't wearing a white shirt.

Chattering her teeth and clutching her coat tightly around her body, she rang the doorbell. This time, he wasn't half naked when he opened up. "Hey," he said with a soft smile. Then frowned, looking her up and down. "It's raining?"

Helen moved past him, inside the warmth of his apartment that hugged her in its welcoming embrace. She exhaled. "No. I just like to walk through waterfalls and swim in puddles," she answered, looking at him with a tired face. "Yes, Sherlock, it's freaking raining," she snapped.

He chuckled, taking her wet coat. "You sound funny when you say freaking," he told her, hanging the item.

She rolled her eyes and turned to him, keeping her arms around her cold body. "Freaking give me freaking clothes, for freak sake," she bit, dropping on a chair. "And some tea, too, thank you."

"Do I look like a waiter to you?" he asked, arching a brow.

Helen ignored him and closed her eyes. She heard him sigh and five minutes later he was back with dry clothes. "Thanks," she simply said, before starting stripping right in the middle of the living room.

Dean widened his eyes and immediately stopped her hands on the hem of her shirt. "Woah, there. What the hell are you doing?" he questioned, furrowing his brows.

Her lips twiched. "It's nothing you haven't seen already," she explained, taking the shirt off and dropping it on the floor.

For his sake, she turned around when she took off her bra, and slipped into his large t-shirt- its sleeves went below her elbows.
Even though it looked like a dress she still put on sweatpants, tying them up tight enough for them to stay on her and not slip off her waist. She added an extra hoodie and then socks. "Ah, much better," she said, nodding her head once.

When she turned to Dean, his eyes were closed. "You done?"

Helen chucked down a laugh. "Yeah. You can look," she confirmed, lying down on his couch. With a groan of pleasure, she said, "God, I love your couch," closing her eyes.

Dean was already making tea. "I know. It's amazing, isn't it?" She only hummed in response. While the water boiled he frowned at her. "Have you been sleeping these past few days, Helen?" he asked, concerned.

She lifted her hand and put her forefinger and thumb close in a sign that meant, a little bit.

Dean shook his head. "Nightmares?" he asked. She shrugged, which meant yes. "Get some sleep now, okay? I'll pack the stuff you need for you," he told her, pouring the water into a single cup for him. She'd be asleep anyway.

"Hmm, no, it's fine," she mumbled, already falling asleep. "I'll do it in a sec," she added, and then her breathing became heavier and she was long gone.