Un monde à nous

Chapitre 8

Dean didn't know what to think anymore when he heard that, but one thing was sure, he must be oblivious too. Meeting Stiles' gaze, he knew he was lost on him, he needed to clear things up.

- My name is Dean Winchester. Scott, call 555.625.28.45. My brother Sam will answer you. Tell him what's going on, you'll see I'm not the reason your best friend won't wake up.

- Do it Scott. Stiles replied.

-Okay. I don't know if I could come back, it's already the second time I've entered your head like this. Peter waited a moment before telling me to do it.

-How long have I been in a coma?

-Two weeks.

It felt like they had been here for three months. All those moments.... The feeling that something was wrong came back to him. So that was it, they weren't really living these moments, yet he was sure of what he felt for the young man.

-I go. Stiles....

*****

Stiles didn't know what to think when Scott told him he was leaving. The latter took him in his arms, he had the impression that everything was real, he even smelled the smell of gingerbread from his best friend. He would cry, because if even that smell was fake, all his moments with Dean were only fleeting.

He saw the sadness in his wolf's eyes, they had to figure out how to wake up to find him. And his father? How was he?

-Scott.

-Yes?

-My father...

-He longs to hear you lose yourself in your monologues.

They smile.

-Kiss him for me. Even Peter.

-It will be done.

His best friend has disappeared.

-Stiles...

-Not now Dean.

He took his jacket, as if he needed it in this false landscape and went out. Even knowing the truth, everything had remained the same, the chalet, the snow, his roscoe and Dean's impala. He hoped to get an answer about the other man soon, because he couldn't bear the thought that he wasn't real. Mias on the other hand; even if he really existed, that didn't mean that they would see each other again, from what he understood, they were often on the road. Finally once again if all this were true.

*****

Dean was hurt. He understood that Stiles doubted his existence and he couldn't prove to him that he was real, they had to wait. He didn't want to lose their bond, he was too good.

He sighed as he ran his hands through his hair and then across his face before collapsing onto the couch. Seeing the time, at least the one marked on the clock, he decided to prepare breakfast, even if everything was wrong.

He was done doing the dishes when Stiles came back.

-Dean? What...

-Breakfast. he cut him off. And before you tell me we don't need to eat, sit down and do it anyway.

He saw a small smile stretch the young man's lips.

-Thank you.

He saw him take a bite.

- So? Judgment?

-Even if it's not real, I find it good.

-It's the only thing I know how to do. I'm not as good as you. By tale, I wonder how it is possible that we feel the tastes.

-Our memory. What I cooked for you, I know the taste, I've done it before, so it got into my cooking, that's how you were able to enjoy the meals. What?

-You are really brilliant.

He saw him blush. He leaned down to kiss her, but as their lips touched, a clearing of his throat was heard. He almost collapsed on the table when he saw Scott come back with Castiel.