"i got no a-levels, no job, no future, but i tell ya what i have got; jericho street jr school, under 7s gymnastics team; i got the bronze"- rose tyler
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
Dean walked backwards as Cassie spoke, manoeuvring the mat - which actually probably didn’t require the strength of two people - towards a pile in the corner. He probably should’ve been concentrating more on where he was going and less on Cassie’s excited rambles, but alas.
“That’s the one! But er, less ghosts and more pub brawls. And less… bastardisation of our lovely accent?” he winced playfully, swinging the mat in unison with Cassie before letting go, landing atop the others in a cloud of chalk dust.
“Kinda. But she was a bit too busy being a teen pop star for us to ever cross paths. Billie, that is. Rose was saving the world, you know how it is.”
“What?!” Cassie gasped, feigning offence. “What do you mean? That was a great impression. Like, that’s totally exactlyhow you sound, actually.”
Shaking her head and grinning, she turned her back to him as she skipped her way towards the next mat, scooping the corners up into her grip yet again, foot tapping as she waited for Dean to join her.
“Yeah, that is true. Plus, with a baby face like that, you must have been, like, in diapers when she was being her cutest popstar self, right?” she teased. “Hey, if we dated, wouldn’t that make you my boy toy?”
The second the question left her lips she regretted it, always true to character as she effortlessly prattled on without a care or thought in the world.
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
At her words, Dean couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. She had a strange sense of humour, one Dean didn’t always pretend to understand. American, and all that. He cocked his head to the side, mirroring her subconsciously, as though he could help himself see what she saw, garner her words by mimicking her actions.
“You’re a funny little thing, Cass.” Dean commented, a lazy smile slipping onto his face. Definitely cute. Tolerable, if he caught her in the right mood. Or when bribed with compliments.
“Er, yeah. I could maybe do that.” he said, leaning forward to catch a few curls obscuring her vision. He tucked them neatly behind her ear, fingers lingering at her cheek for a fraction of a second too long.
Pulling back, Dean cast a wide glance over the hall, seizing up the corner of a mat so he no longer had to look at her. He didn’t want her to see the embarrassment that was surely plain on his face.
“Come help me with this. You’re familiar with the East End of London, right?”
Cassie wanted to scream. Like, top of a mountain, middle of nowhere kind of screams, every inch of joy she’d ever felt in all her life fit to burst from her chest. Because the hot British guy from her gym that she’d been trying to crack for months was touching her cheek. And Cassie kinda loved it. Ugh, Louis was gonna think she was a doofus.
Glancing around with him, Cassie nodded, glad to finally have a distraction. Quickly leaning down, she tucked her Brand! New! Lego! TARDIS! away into her backpack and returned to his side, grabbing the edge of the mat as he spoke.
“Yeah, it’s, well, it isn’t quite where Rose Tyler is from, because she’s from South London, but still!” she rambled on, endlessly pleased that her Doctor Who trivia had some uses away from her screaming at her TV screen during gameshows.
“Wait, in Army of Ghosts Jackie is, like, watching that one show where the lady is like,” she paused, clearing her throat and prepping herself for her best imitation of a British accent. “GET OUT OF ME PUB!”
Grinning, she glanced back up at Dean, gaging his response, certain that whatever sound had just escaped her was definitely the worst thing he’d ever heard.
“Is that Eastenders? Oh my God– Are you and Rose Tyler from the same part of London? Have you ever met Billie Piper?
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
This was far too saccharine a moment for him, was his first thought. Dean wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of guy, a heartfelt apology guy, a Lego gift giving kind of guy. He was making her giggle, for crying out loud. But it wasn’t so bad, really. It was tolerable, actually. Cassie’s sweet shyness, the way she didn’t seem to realise just how cute she actually was.
Fuck.
Did Dean think Cassie was cute?
He squeezed her hand gently, hoping to elicit some kind of response from her. Perhaps he’d come on a bit strong with the bum talk. But if the blush on her face was anything to go by, she seemed to have liked it.
“You. Pretty. Does this mean I’m off the hook?” Dean asked, feeling like he already knew the answer to that question. “Oh, nothing. Just a very realistic telly show about Londoners. Very close to my own life, actually.”
Truth be told, Cassie still felt dazed. Stupidly so. Like a school girl with an embarrassing crush on the badboy exchange student. She tipped her head to the side, a dopey smile on her face.
“I think I’m the one who’s hooked here,” she responded, barely taking in a word he said.
Blinking, she shook her head and then gasped, finally catching his meaning. “Wait– yes, you’re… you know what I mean.”
With a sigh, she blew out a long breath, a few stray strands of hair flailing in the process and shrugged.
“Maybe you should tell me about it while we tidy? The Eastenders thingy, and… your life?” she suggested, feeling shy. Dean wasn’t exactly the sharing type. “Um, since y’know, we’re calling a truce.”
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
“A sexy British spin, eh?” Dean teased, a mixture of disbelief and playfulness colouring his tone. Why was it with Cassie, the girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, it was so difficult to figure out where he stood? He’d knocked her back a thousand times, but she still had a smile for him, a kind word. With any other girl, any other time, Dean might’ve thought she was flirting. But girls like Cassie Croft didn’t flirt with guys like him.
He watched as she fell quiet, her fingers gently running over the coarse, hard skin of his knuckles. Boxer’s hands, gymnast’s body. So many parts of him rough and broken town, places that twinged with pain if you applied pressure in slightly the wrong way. He wondered if he should be embarrassed, of hands like that, felt a sudden urge to tug free of hold when he watched her forehead crease with concern.
“Hey, where’d the brightest, cutest, prettiest girl in the world go, just then?” Dean asked, dropping their intertwined hands between them, so that Cassie could no longer inspect his for evidence of wear, hard work and split knuckles.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze, making sure to lay his accent on thick before he said, “Look, babe, I’m super duper sorry I behaved like an absolute wanker. I missed you like mad, it was pure shit not being able to see your darling little face and your fit bum at work every day.”
Biting back a laugh, Dean pressed his lips together, searching her face for signs of approval.
“Bit too Eastenders?”
“Did I say sexy?” Cassie muttered absently, a high blush brightening her cheeks. Averting her gaze, she shrugged, “I think I said silly, actually. Yep.”
Her mind was still racing with thoughts of his knuckles against leather, the skin being split open, an urgent, startling desire to press a kiss to all the broken, damaged spaces. He pulled her from her reverie as suddenly as she’d entered it, a sudden stream of compliments spilling from his lips.
Eyes widening, cheeks burning, Cassie stared at him, an abrupt giggle escaping her when he remarked on her butt. Biting her lip, she ducked her head, feeling shy all of a sudden, even despite having asked for the praise. The weight of his hand in hers combine with him calling her babe and telling her she was pretty was… a shock to the system, to say the least.
Silence seemed to fill the air around them as she stared at him, her brain abuzz with a thousand conflicting thoughts and feelings, when she realised she’d taken far too long to respond.
“Huh? Me- pretty? What?” she stuttered, clearing her throat of the pathetic rasp that her voice had taken on. She felt flustered and confused, her thumb absently brushing his palm. “What’s an eastenders?”
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
“Oi!” Dean laughed with her, impossible not to. That laugh was infectious. Actually, maybe when Dean wasn’t feeling that way out, Cassie’s whole mood was infectious.
He moved to pull his hand back, as though to cradle it close to his chest. As if the barely-there tap she’d delivered to his hand could’ve caused any kind of serious damage. But it seemed Cassie wasn’t letting him get away that easy, and Dean relented, practically melting under her touch. He was starting to understand how she had Scotty and that man of hers wrapped around her little finger.
“There’s conditions to me helping you clear up now, eh?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows as Cassie manoeuvred his arms like the world’s cutest puppeteer. “In those exact words? Do I have to say ‘super duper’, or?”
“Hmmm, well, no, you can always help me,” she relented, rolling her eyes. “But if you really want my forgiveness, you’ve gotta say those words. Maybe adlib a little, put a sexy British spin on it, too!”
Bringing their arms to a stop, she took a tiny step closer to him and pulled their hands to her chest, her thumb absently sliding across his knuckles. The skin there was rough, mottled, and she glanced down with a sharp intake of breath. Cassie knew that Dean trained with Scotty a bunch, was even used to Scotty fighting after all these years of friendship, but the cuts, scars and bruises always filled her with fresh concern each time. Seeing the same injuries marring Dean’s skin somehow felt worse, despite being self inflicted, and she couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
Eyebrows knitted together with concern, Cassie’s teeth worried over her lower lip before she sharply returned to reality and glanced back up at Dean’s face, policing her features into that same, happy smile from before.
“So, come on, Rocky Balboa! Shower me in words of your undying love,” she teased.
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
With his face buried in her hair, in the quiet of the gym, Dean allowed himself a small indulgence. At the sound of her laugh, he let the barest of smiles touch his lips. Instinctively pulling her closer - not that there was too much space between them to begin with - he felt her giggle reverberate in his chest. Stupid, traitorous body.
“You gotta take care of it, alright?” Dean chided, playfulness colouring his tone. Earnest interactions didn’t come easily to him, genuine moments of friendship and thoughtfulness, and now that this one had begun, Dean found he didn’t want it to end. He flashed her a smile, just to earn another one of hers. Just to keep this going, as long as he could.
What didn’t come easy to Dean was second nature to Cassie. She showed herself through affectionate touches, a cheerful thumbs up across the gym, or, in this instance, a small, sweet hand pressed to the curve of his jaw. Dean felt his cheeks grow hot as he felt the full force of her smile, with no where to turn. There was no similar embarrassment on Cassie’s open face, all of her actions held weight and meaning. For whatever reason, she meant to do this.
“Alright, now you’re just embarrassing me.” Dean teased, trying his best to avert his gaze. His fingers gently tugged the ends of her ponytail, desperate to inject some humour into the otherwise too-sincere moment. “You want some help clearing away the equipment, or something?”
Right now, Dean was smiling at her, and Cassie felt like her heart was fit to explode. She knew, at the heart of it, she shouldn’t be quite so forgiving – certainly not to the man who had made her cry and hide herself away for the past week and a half. All the same, she knew that everyone had their baggage, and maybe he really hadn’t meant to make her cry! Maybe she’d been exaggerating. After all, Louis hadn’t been the friendliest person alive when she’d first met him, but now he was her bestie and the most protective guy ever! Maybe Dean was just having a bad day, or… year.
“I promise I will,” she insisted, nodding earnestly at him. A wave of warmth washed over her chest as he stared down at her, this nagging desire to impress him tugging at her from within. Now that she had the full weight of his smile directed at her, she never wanted it to go away. She found that it actually made him kinda… handsome.
As he tugged at her hair, Cassie laughed, loud and bright, pulling back only to swat at his hand. Feeling much more like herself, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, playfully trapping him as she shot him a cheeky grin.
“Only on one condition,” she told him, swinging their arms in the space that separated them. “You have to admit that you missed me sooooooo so so much while I was gone and tell me that you’re super duper sorry for being a doofus.”
“And that I’m the brightest, cutest, bestest girl in the world,” she added, for extra measure.
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
The seconds seemed to stretch out into minutes, hours, even. A large stretch of time of Cassie just staring at him, probably choosing her most vicious words, which probably weren’t vicious at all to a non-Cassie human being. He felt the humiliation all over his face, cheeks tinted red. He suddenly regretted ever forking out for the stupid gift, for having to play nice with the employee who advised him on it, for standing in the queue imagining Cassie’s face splitting into a grin, as she told him they were alright now, that she forgave him, that of course they could be friends.
Instead, a bundle of gold curls and squealing girl launched herself at him, her hard gymnast’s body colliding with his, arms locking around his neck. Nose pressed against her hair, he took note of the sweet smell of her shampoo, overpowering the light sheen of sweat that clung to her frame. Dean’s arms flailed uselessly at his side, still clutching the box with one hand as the other came up to slowly, cautiously pat her on the back. He really hoped she wouldn’t cry.
“Alright, sunshine, no need for waterworks. And don’t squash your gift - how’s the Doctor supposed to get about if you crush her Tardis?” he teased lightly, a hand splayed between her shoulder blades. “What do you say, you forgive me? Truce?”
Hugging Dean was an unexpectedly sweet experience – not that Cassie liked admitting that to herself. She was mad at him, after all, and he was always making her feel awful about herself. The blonde really had no business feeling anything positive towards him, yet despite her best efforts, she always gave in and found herself trying to sneak a smile out of him on a bad day. Only today was her bad day, so logic said that she should have continued scolding him. And yet, here he was, down on his knees, lego TARDIS in hand, making her smile from ear to ear.
“I’m not even gonna yell at you for calling me sunshine because right now that’s exactly how I feel!” she giggled, the sweet sound muffled ever so slightly against his chest.
And what a chest it was, Cassie thought absently, her stomach flipping as she felt his hand brush against her back, her skin traitorously itching for further contact. Dean was all hard lines and abs, a chest carved by Gods – she’d seen it plenty of times during gym hours, and yet being pressed up against it was an entirely new sensation. There was something deeply satisfying about feeling the combination of all those hard, chiselled muscles alongside all the softer parts of him, too.
“I won’t crush it, I promise!” Cassie insisted, pulling back as a show of sincerity. As she withdrew from the hug, her hands slowly drifted from their hold around his shoulders, sliding around to absently cup his jaw, a bright smile filling her face. “I one billion percent forgive you.”
Cassie’s classes were infuriatingly noisy, and it made sharing the gym space with her almost unbearable. The sound of squeaking tennis shoes, high, girlish giggles and bubblegum pop would always interrupt his classes, forcing Dean to shout louder, wave his arms and stamp his feet in order to be heard. All while the blonde pointedly ignored the dirty looks he shot her.
Today, however, Dean was thankful for the commotion of her class. It allowed him to slip through the front door undetected, Little Mix covering the sound of the door clipping shut as bodies tossed and turned in the air, as Cassie laid a gentle hand on a girl’s back, silently correcting her posture.
Dean had seen Cassie recently, but only in flashes of pink gym shorts and bouncing ponytails as she ran from the room faster than the bloody Flash. It did make him feel a bit shit, really. He hadn’t meant to upset the poor girl quite this much, and from what Scotty had said, and from the sound of Little Mix’s angriest man hating anthems playing, he’d really done a number on her.
As the class began to wind down and kids scurried to grab their bags, Dean seized his moment to approach Cassie. She had her back to him, bent at the waist, fussing with something or other. Dean tried his hardest to stare at the back of her head. It wouldn’t do him much good to get caught perving over a girl who currently hated his guts.
Clearing his throat, Dean tried to make his voice sound as un-threatening and cheerful as possible. In other words, he was doing his best Cassie impression.
Panic gripped Dean’s chest as he watched tears spring to Cassie’s eyes - as much as she didn’t want him to notice, it was hard to ignore a girl crying right in front of you. God, Scotty was going to kick his ass.
“Not you, that’s not what I meant.” Dean fumbled with the right words. He never knew what to do with somebody crying. To reach out and touch her seemed so wrong, so uncomfortably clumsy. Surely it would only make her cry harder?
“I didn’t even get to - you’re not letting me apologise.” he said, voice dangerously close to a whine. Clearly, there was no reasoning with her. Everything he did seemed to rub her the wrong way, bring her closer to tears.
With an exasperated cry, Dean dropped to his knees and began rummaging through his bag with the fervour of a man possessed, digging until his fingers felt the cardboard corners of the box. Upon straightening up, Dean gracelessly thrust the box at her. It was unwrapped, a little squashed from the journey over. He wasn’t even sure he’d remembered to take the price tag off.
“I got you this. Just like, a nice gesture. To say sorry for being such a bellend to you.”
Hand extended, Dean squirmed uncomfortably. There was every chance she wouldn’t take it, that she would turn on her heel and storm out of the gym. He’d given her the opportunity to humiliate him, she’d be an idiot not to take it. Dean meekly rattled the box, hoping to entice her with the sound of the pieces inside clanging together.
“It’s a Lego TARDIS, see?” Dean explained, gesturing to the blue box on the packaging. “‘Cause I know you like Doctor Who. And I dunno, everyone likes Lego. Lego’s brilliant. But if you don’t want it or you wanna chuck it at me, that’s fine too.”
Combing her fingers through her hair, she groaned in frustration at Dean’s incessant rambles. Usually she was the incessant rambler, and now she was starting to see why it might be seen as irritating.
“If you’re so freaking sorry, maybe you should actually get to the part where you, I dunno, apologise?” she snapped, finally returning her gaze back to his.
The sight that met her, however, was unexpected, and her heart leapt in her chest, panic taking hold as she watched him lower himself onto his knees.
“What the heck are you doing down there? Please tell me you aren’t going to beg. I- ugh, I forgive you, just stand up!” she whined, embarrassment taking hold.
She felt silly now, bringing her hands up to cover her face, hardly daring to peek through her fingers at the court jester in front of her.
Then the apology came, followed by a rattling noise that immediately caught her attention. Brows darting up in surprise, Cassie dropped her hands to look at Dean, her jaw dropping comically as she lapsed into a bewildered and rather uncharacteristic silence.
The silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity, Cassie lost for words. Shaking her head, she attempted to find something to say, but fell flat. Instead, she threw caution to the wind and found herself launching her tiny body at the unsuspecting Brit, still kneeling, as her arms came to wrap around his neck.
A loud, harsh shriek escaped her as she tightened her grip around Dean, screaming, “Oh my Gosh, I’m gonna cry!”
