Doya: By the sea

Doya: By the sea

A/N: Just a lovely moment between Oya and Dean, by the sea and with beers. Still during the Thomas” case.

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“I like the sound of the ocean...I don't like the beach, but I like the sound of the ocean. Is it weird?” -Oya asked as she sat on a bench with a beer in her hand-

“Not at all.” -Dean replied as he stood in front of her, his beer in his hand.- “I don't really like the ocean, as a matter of fact, I hate the beach too, but I get that you like the sound of the waves crashing on the shores.” He raised his beer and drank to that.-

“Yeah... I guess the human mind is really weird..” -She chuckled and chugged some beer.- “Dean, have you ever wanted another life? Something different from what you have now?” She asked, with both arms laid on her legs.

“I have...I even experienced it but it wasn't for me. Have you?” -She shrugged. She knew he was talking about his time with Lisa and her son. Yes, he had tried the apple pie kind of life and it didn't work for him. He was meant to be a hunter after all.-

“I haven't...I have?” She scratched the back of her head. “In my country, we were who we were, it wasn't a big deal. I see it now, that we were more tools than actually accepted by our people, but at least we could have families, strong communities... we were still somehow valued and seen...I was engaged.” She furrowed her brows. “And for a while, I thought I had it all. I thought I had it good, you know? Engaged, maybe even a mother very soon, happy... but it was all an illusion. As soon as I wasn't useful to Fabrice, he just dumped me... my community crumbled, my family was slaughtered. I couldn't have the apple pie life I wanted.. it wasn't meant for me.”

She sighed and leaned her head back so she could chug some beer down. Her eyes quickly turned empty as she was wondering if it was what she wanted. Kids had always been something she wished she had someday, up until she drank that potion that made her barren. She knew she wouldn't be able to have any and gave up on this dream as soon as her mind was filled with revenge and guilt. Over time, the desire to procreate just vanished as she lived in the USA. A hunter's life here was crap, there was no sustainable future for a potential child there, and back in the days, there was even no one to share this dream with. So she gave up on kids.

She accommodated to her new situation, she even enjoyed her life as it was. Seeing Sarah and her family, listening to Joshua, and his desire to have his own family shook the hunter who questioned herself. Was she really okay with the life she was leading with Dean? He was a dad already, twice. He was not a “good” dad too...in his own words, he screwed up with his kids like he screwed up with plenty of people in his life. It wasn't meant for him. Would he try to do differently if given the choice? Oya believed he would. Would he try differently, if she became pregnant? She knew he would. But the question wasn't even in the air because she was unable to have children. A spell was a spell... consequences were permanent and she made her peace with it. Oya didn't want kids..anymore. She wasn't the same person she was a decade ago.

Dean gave her the life she wanted to live. A life with a solid partner, someone who would always be there with her. Someone who cared for her, someone who loved her. He was her family, alongside Sam and Castiel and she didn't need more to feel complete. Dean was there, always. He was there when she had nightmares, he was there when she needed comfort and he let her in when he needed some. He let her love him. He let her be in his life. Dean hunted with her, and by Chuck, Oya loved hunting. Hunting was akin to a sport for her. It was all about the style, the difficulty, the fighting techniques she was perfecting. It was about the least casualties possible and saving the most people as well. She didn't mind her scars -except for the one she got from the Asanbosam, she still had trouble with-, for they were a testimony of her hard dedication to her work. Being able to hunt with the best hunter that ever excited was a privilege and a chance for the woman, so why would she complain?

“..........You said you were happy with me.”

“And I mean it. I am. The apple pie kind of life, for me, is the life I am leading with you Dean. I thought, yeah, for a long time I thought that eventually, I would want to have kids or that maybe I wanted the white picket fences kind of life Sarah has... but I was wrong. I don't need any of this as long as I'm hunting with you. As long as I'm with you. I don't need more. I have a family who loves me, people who would go to hell and back if that was for me. I am with people I can sacrifice my life for...shit...” She looked at him and smiled a wet smile. “...I wouldn't want it any other way, okay?” She shrugged and drank her beer. “I have my dream life...this is my life, the apple pie life..” She added before he grinned at her and walked closer. He sat on the bench near Oya and patted his thigh so she could sit on his lap. She rolled her eyes but ended up sitting on his lap. Face turned towards the beautiful sea before their very eyes.

“ I guess that means you don't want another life than the one you have right now.” She gently poked his shoulder and nodded. “Ouch, how violent you are!”

“I didn't hurt you Dickhead! Quit crying.” She poked his shoulder again before she wrapped her arm around his neck and watched as he took a sip of his beer.

“Alright, Bitch, I won't protest.” -He chuckled and set his emerald eyes onto her hazel ones. Oya was beautiful right now, relaxed, happy and he could tell by her body language that she wasn't pretending. She felt good by his side, she felt right on his lap. He sighed and leaned his head against her chest, burying his face in her bosom while she let her hand run over his dirty blonde hair. “Why did you ask that question?”

“I wanted to know if you were happy with me. I felt that maybe I wasn't offering you what you needed.” She started before she planted a kiss on top of his head. “ I just wanted to make sure you knew you had a home in me too... You have somewhere to return to, someone to come home to...I want to be sure that you know that Dean...You're not alone anymore, you never will from now..” She said as she planted another kiss to his forehead while he wrapped his arm tighter around her waist.

“I'm aware of that. I know...You always make sure I feel home with you;”

He added, clearing his throat as he didn't know how to channel his emotions. As a matter of fact, the Winchester realized that Oya simply needed to be reassured. He wasn't excellent at calming nerves, but he would still give it a try. She was giving him more than he wanted, more than he could ever ask. She was giving him the freedom to be himself, and she was giving him the ability to not have to choose between love and work. With Oya things were easy, the easiest they've ever been. With Oya, things just went smoothly and he didn't need to compromise himself, or the life he was leading. He didn't need to pretend. He didn't need to hide. With Oya..; he simply was. She was giving him the comfort of knowing he was loved and no matter what happened, she wasn't leaving. She chose him, and very often let him know that she did, but he realized he wasn't saying it enough. Dean was a man of actions, not a man of words, but from time to time, he acknowledged, that saying a little something was actually more helpful than not. He gently let his hand move from her waist to her back and then lost a few fingers into her thick black curly mane. He massaged her scalp and leaned his head better against her chest.

“Oya, Nzi Mulenge.. please, forgive me if I fucked up your name... O... You're giving me more than I could ever ask for. You've been in our lives, five years now? It's the longest someone ever stayed with me... the longest, and the best..” He cleared his throat and looked up to her face. “I don't want more because I don't need more. I have the best already with me.” He gave her an earnest smile and leaned his chin against her chest. “I have the best there is and ever will...I can't express how much..how happ—happy I am with you. But it's there and I beg of you, O, to look at all the things I do that I can't say. I'm here... I'm here with you.” He managed to say before he leaned his head back against her chest. “Always... and forever.” He ended his sentence and watched as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gently sobbed against him.

“Forever and always...” Was all she could whisper before her sobs took over and she just cuddled with him. She felt relieved, he could tell by the sigh she let out, but she also was happy by the confirmation that he had what he needed and she was making him happy. It was all the hunter needed to feel okay. She needed to know so he said something, by the sea.

-TBC-

concours les flammes vives: A l'amour comme à la Guerre

//Poème N°2: concours les flammes vives

« A L'amour comme à la Guerre »

Il vivait l'amour comme il vécut la guerre ! La propagande sur l'amour avait fini par le gagner.

Alors, il rêvait de belles aventures, de ces montagnes russes qui vous transportent au paradis.

Alors, il rêvait de cet être si doux qui allait l'accompagner tout au long de sa vie : l'âme-soeur.

Tout comme il s'était imaginé la Guerre, la belle, la grande et noble Guerre pour la liberté.

Celle qui était censée sauver le pays, sauver le continent aussi, de la conquête de l'ennemi.

Il s'était imaginé en héros des temps modernes et en amour, il aurait été heureux.

Il vivait l'amour comme il vécut la guerre ! La propagande avait fini par s'effondrer.

Petit à petit son rêve s'est brisé et la cruelle réalité a montré son visage repoussant.

L'amour comme la guerre, était laid. C'était une tourmente éternelle, un monstre repoussant.

Les adieux, la déception et les mensonges étaient autant de balles qui perçaient son coeur

Les blessures étaient invisibles, profondes et traumatisantes comme fut la Grande Guerre.

La boucherie qui avait fait de lui une victime et avait atteint le reste de sa famille.

Car l'amour comme la guerre ne fait jamais qu'une seule victime. Il détruit tout sur son chemin.

Il vivait l'amour comme il vécut la guerre. Dévasté par les ruptures, affaiblie par le chagrin.

Il n'était plus suffisant de simplement souffrir de souvenirs de la Mort en direct, des cris et pleurs.

Il n'était plus suffisant d'avoir honte d'être un survivant de l'horreur, de pouvoir en témoigner.

Alors que d'autres étaient tombés sous les balles, d'autres s'étaient sacrifiés pour de vrai.

L'amour n'était pas un voyage sans retour, même si pour lui, il était à deux doigts d'en finir.

L'espoir tout comme à la guerre, l'espoir le maintenait en vie.

L'espoir de quoi ? Vous direz-vous. Qu'avons-nous à espérer de l'amour si ce n'est un cœur brisé ?

Il vivait l'amour comme il vécut la guerre. La belle, la grande guerre. Il y survécut et le ferait encore.

Il y avait bien la jolie Annette, rencontrée au hasard d'une promenade, qui l'avait sauvé.

C'était son débarquement en Normandie, sa libération de Paris, c'était l'amour de sa vie.

Elle lui avait redonné espoir, l'avait aidé à se reconstruire et il y avait du chantier dans le cœur de Roger.

Il n'était plus une coquille vide, ni un survivant. Non ! Avec Annette, il s'était enfin senti vivant.

Le tendre

Qu'il était tendre ce grand gaillard!

La main sur le cœur et le cœur sur la main, il vous faisait fondre sur place.

Il avait un sourire qui réchauffait les cœurs, une poigne franche et un regard enjôleur.

Il aimait la vie et la vie le lui rendait bien. Du moins en apparence.

Qu'il était tendre ce grand gaillard!

Il aimait donner autours de lui, de l'amour, de l'attention en veux-tu en voilà!

Et il en avait des amis, des vrais, de très gentils et des un peu cons tout comme lui.

Ils aimaient la vie aussi, alors ils riaient très souvent tous ensembles.

Qu'il était tendre ce doux idiot!

Naïf qu'il était avec les filles, se laissant entraîner par la première venue pourvue qu'elle lui sourit.

Elles lui auront brisé le coeur et parfois malgré sa candeur il n'était pas en reste aussi.
Oui, il en avait fait souffrir car parfois l'amour ne suffit pas, mais il espérait trouver un équilibre

Il était tendre, il aimait la vie mais il se sentait bien seul, c'était vrai aussi! 

Il n'avait pas remarqué la jolie Julie.

Une tête de linotte qui égarait souvent ses affaires. Qu'elle était maladroite cette Julie!

Elle était discrète avec un petit sourire timide au coin des lèvres qu'il n'avait jamais remarqué.

Elle aimait les gens aussi, mais à petite dose. introvertie la petite Julie? Apparemment oui!

Julie, elle était secrète et très petite, c'était à peine s'il se souvenait d'elle. 

Elle avait l'air mystérieux, mais elle ne l'était pas du tout, au contraire! Julie était facile à cerner.

Elle aimait les choses carrées, la routine de tous les jours et la discrétion absolue.

Ses romances et ses peines, elle les vivait recluse, ne mettant que ses amis dans la confidence.

Alors il ne s'était pas rendu compte du rapprochement.

Car la mini-Julie, elle l'avait remarqué ce grand dadais.

Elle s'était rapprochée tout doucement, faisant en sorte de rentrer dans sa vie en toute discrétion.

Point de fanfares, point de scandales. Ils passaient du temps ensemble et sans le savoir, Changement!

En effet, de l'autre bout du canapé, elle avait finit par se rapprocher de lui, se tenant à ses côtés.

Et un soir, alors qu'ils étaient en train de se parler le soir du nouvel an.

Elle sortit du gui pour ensuite l'embrasser à pleine bouche. Sacrée  petite Julie! 

Julie la discrète, Julie la mignonne, Julie la casse-cou! Elle en a pris du risque cette soirée là.

Et pourtant son baiser, il lui a rendu, se sentant nigaud de l'avoir ignoré toutes ces années.

Qu'il était tendre ce grand gaillard! 

Le sourire aux lèvres toute la journée, une chanson dans le cœur tous les matins.

Il aimait les gens, il aimait la vie et il savait que sa jolie femme Julie aimait cela à petite dose.

Alors ils se laissaient vivre leur vie, se retrouvant dans le nid douillet qu'ils s'étaient construits.

Et jamais, ô jamais, Julie ne rejetait les bras de son mari.

Car le grand tendre qu'il était, ce géant au grand cœur, le nigaud plein d'espoir

Pouvait enfin donner à celle qu'il aimait des embrassades dignes des grands aurevoirs

Chaque jour qui pouvait se lever était un jour de plus en plein bonheur.

Malgré les nuages qui se dressaient et les orages qui s'abattait, ces murs ci étaient bien solides.