Venom

047

It had been two weeks since Savannah's death. One week since her funeral. Not a day had gone by that Helen hadn't felt empty. To cope with that, Dean had always been there, present, filling a part of her emptiness.

Helen was now sitting in the kitchen, having breakfast while Dean finished getting ready for work. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to work from home every day.

When he wasn't home, she usually went for long runs or worked on a new plan to get revenge, although failing repeatedly. Derek was many things, but he wasn't stupid. He was not going to go down easily. He would put on one hell of a fight.

Sipping the warm tea in her mug, Helen checked her most recent emails. Nothing too important. When Dean walked in, his suit perfect as always, he gave her a quick kiss, pouring some coffee in a cup.

He cleared his throat. Then, he said, "Hey, uhm, can I ask you something?" He was looking at her with uncertainty.

Helen nodded. "Sure. What's up?"

"So... You know, we've kinda been... Well, we're like, you know..." he fumbled to find the words. With a heavy sigh, he at last blurted out, "Will you move in with me?"

Helen's heart skipped a beat. Then another. And probably another.
Move in.
With Dean.

"You can say no. I understand. I know it's probably not the best time, and—"

"Yes."

Dean blinked. "Yes?"

"Yes. Yes, I will move in with you," she smiled, getting up from her chair and walking up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, while his went to her waist. "I'll go to my apartment today to grab my stuff," she went on, moving towards his lips. "By the time you're back from work, this place will be more mine than yours."

Grinning, he replied, "I can't wait." He pressed his lips on hers, filling his hands with her ass and lifting her on the counter, settling his body between her legs. Weren't it for Chris, his secretary covering what was Savannah's job, Dean would have not been able to stop. Scratch that— he didn't stop. Helen made him stop, grabbing the ringing phone and giving it to him. "Do I have to?" he asked like a little child, scowling at the phone.

"Yep. Pick up and go to work, lazy man. I'll see you later when I've redecorated the whole apartment," she replied, winking and getting off the counter. He laughed, then picked up the phone.

The call was about to finish. "Alright. Yeah, yeah. I'll be there soon, okay? Jeez. Well, if they wanna meet me so bad, tell them to look me up on Google. Jesus Christ, I'm not Harry Styles. Why do people insist so much on meeting me? Oh, oh because I'm a young multi billionaire? Yeah, that's just another way to say that they're old failures. Sorry. Not you, Chris. You're great. Yeah, okay, fine. Fine. I'll see you in a bit, okay? Tell my fans to get a life. Bye." The call ended, and Dean shook his head.

Helen simply stared at him with amusement written on her face. "One hell of a conversation, huh? Of course you're not Harry Styles," she told him, earning a smile from him. "He's better." The smile left his face while he rolled his eyes and she laughed.

~~~

Her apartment was always clean. She wouldn't lie: she was going to miss this place. But in the end, home wasn't a place anymore.

Helen started packing, picking up all her clothes and as many shoes as she could. Half her hoodies were actually Dean's.

While picking out her dresses, her fingers stopped over one. She swallowed back her tears when she touched the dress she'd bought with Savannah. Shaking her head at the painful memory of her friend's smile, she moved past it, tugging it away. When she did that, something fell with a soft clink.