𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

There's a different kind of security to be found in Charlie's arms. It's different from knowing she has salt lining the doors and windows, different from knowing she has an iron bat, different from knowing exorcisms. It isn't the safety she feels knowing Sam and Dean are at her front and rear. Hell, the guy can't even handle a salt shaker. Anyway, she can protect herself. So maybe physical security isn't a big deal when she knows this is the safest place for her heart. Maybe that's why being in Charlie's arms is her ultimate drowsy drug, her safe haven. And a small part of her does feel small around him.

It's words she can't find. It's a feeling. It's a feeling of utter calm, of a weighted blanket, of a wash of sunlight through a window. It's forever in a moment. In waking up in his arms, feeling calloused palms slide underneath her shirt and press into her tense spine, molding her to him. It's the brownies they made last night. It's how he put her up on the counter and kissed her. He just held her and was content to do so.

She had a nightmare last night. 3:13. It wasn't the kind from the other night that sent her into a rapid downward spiral. Only mildly terrifiying...like having a dream of falling. She jerked awake and looked to her left, but Charlie hadn't budged. Lying on his belly, fingers loosely draped over her hip. She leant into it. Gripped his arm, felt him. 

He doesn't have him. He doesn't have him.

But she didn't go back to sleep. She breathed in his scent, felt his warm skin on hers, and stared at the wall over his shoulder. 

He'll be going into work soon, taking her to Sophia's. She'd see him again in eight hours.

The thought doesn't stop her koala fingers around his bicep. Possessive, needy, as she stares at the clock reading 5:23. He presses a kiss into her hair. Butterflies flutter into her chest. His hand slides down her backside, firm pressure and dull scratching the whole way, and he pauses to give it a squeeze. His caress stops at the bend of her knee and hooks it over his hip. 

"Do you have to go in?" Katherine mutters. Charlie can make out the faintest pouty lower lip in the lavender light of oncoming dawn. "Say you're sick."

He chuckles, nearing her lips for a kiss. "I wish. It's a big job this week. The plumbers already fucked up a worksite last week, so now I have to keep my eye on two crews instead of one." 

Katherine moans, quite the protesting little thing this morning. 

"I'm off on Friday, though."

Only two more days. She can make it. Besides, she'd see him tonight, too—

"You're not gonna leave this bed if you keep touching me like that," she murmurs. He cracks a grin, fingertips still lightly trailing low on her belly, just above the waistband of her underwear. Then that eyebrow goes up, and he murmurs,

"Yeah?"

His fingers slip right in. Katherine's grip tightens on his arm.

"Don't you have to get ready?" She asks, eyelids fluttering. "How much time do we have?"

"Plenty." Charlie kisses her again. "Just relax," he whispers. Her breath catches on a moan. "That's it, baby." Her grip flies to his wrist. She can feel every flex of tendon, every light circle of his thumb. 

Blue eyes bore into his. It makes his belly tighten. "I want you."

"You got me," he says.

"Hu-uh—"

His eyebrow quirks again, and a third finger goes in. Katherine's loud moan is absorbed by the furniture in the room. In the early morning hour, a slight panic hits her. But there's no one else in this house. And he wanted to hear it.