After a few breaths, it feels like neither one of them has moved. Feels like neither of them is daring to. Faye isn't willing to believe that Dean hasn't pulled himself back to awareness by now, isn't willing to believe that he'd take so much longer than herself to do so, her head turning just a touch, until her cheek presses against his hair, damp with sweat. She doesn't want to be the first to move, but as the seconds pass by, it feels like sand slipping between her fingers, less and less control resting in her palm, so she presses her nose against his temple, almost as though to ease him away, slow, leaving either one of them with a shred of dignity.
"I know I can be good," she remarks, light, a joke, too insubstantial after the weight of the evening. "But I'm not that good."
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Date: 2011-10-19 04:27 am (UTC)"I know I can be good," she remarks, light, a joke, too insubstantial after the weight of the evening. "But I'm not that good."