Lost and Found by Trish Marie Dawson Page B

there's always a Plan B. And Connor will eventually have to come upstairs and climb
     into bed with me.
     
    ***
     
    Connor was still drinking with the other men well past one in the morning. The rare
     bottle of Glenfiddich had been a treat for them, especially Skip, who wasn't much of a drinker but did
     enjoy the occasional snifter of whiskey. The bottle was gone in less than an hour
     and the men had moved on to another amber-colored liquid that I stayed clear of. By
     the time I dragged myself upstairs, I was more than ready for sleep.
    When my head hit the pillow, the weight of my eyelids multiplied exponentially and
     rather than struggle to keep them open, I submitted to my body's call for sleep. My
     last conscious thought was about Connor and how I was going to convince him to get
     on one of the horses as soon as they were ready to ride.
    It was the change in the air around the bed that roused me from a dreamless sleep.
     I heard the curtain from one of the windows drag across the windowsill and sensed
     its movement as it fluttered up against the glass. I lifted my head, my vision still
     blurry and smiled up at the face peering down at me.
    "Connor…did you get enough to drink tonight?" I mumbled.
    The face leaned forward slightly and I felt the mattress give a little as his elbows
     pressed into the bed. A chill ran along my cheek, travelling down the side of my face
     and crawled around to the back of my neck, lifting the small hairs that ran along
     my spine. The sensation made me shudder and I bolted upright and away from the man
     kneeling on the worn, wooden floor next to where I had been sleeping.
    It wasn't Connor.
     
    ***
     
     
    Connor stumbled up the stairs, half-laughing and half-grimacing as the drink he'd
     poured eagerly down his throat threatened to resurface with each step he took up to
     the second landing. For the first time since Fin, he was happily drunk, without a
     care in the world. And so was Winchester, who was sprawled out on the living room
     sofa, and Jacks, who was helped back to the cabin next door by Skip, where a pregnant
     Ana waited.
    He giggled, not bothering to cover his mouth while he passed Kris's dark bedroom as
     the image of Ana came mind. She would be pissed to see Jacks indisposed and unable
     to wait on her. The tongue-lashing she would give the man would be epic and Connor
     was more than bummed that he would not be there to hear it.
    After precariously weaving down the hallway, he finally made it to the room he shared
     with Riley. He was surprised to see a crack of light coming from the underside of
     the closed door and he pushed on it until the heavy wood creaked inward. Riley sat
     on the mattress, pillows clutched to her chest with her back pressed into the bedframe.
     She didn't look at him as he nosily entered their bedchambers, tugging at his shirt
     with one hand and the buttons of his jeans with the other.
    "Hey baby…you waited for me?" he slurred his words as he kicked off his shoes before
     plopping down onto the side of the bed.
    The shirt was fighting with him and he cursed as the material twisted under his arms
     and around his neck. He couldn't seem to get the damn thing off. "Whada fuck," he
     hissed, as the shirt snagged his lips and nose. With both arms awkwardly flailing
     in mid-air he began to giggle again. "Baaaaby, tink I's need help," he said. A full
     minute went by in silence as he continued to struggle against the tight fabric before
     he was free. He tossed the stretched out shirt onto the ground at his feet and noticed
     a wet stain down the front of it. "Huh."
    Riley hadn't said a word since he came into the room. The thought that she was angry
     occurred to him but his head had begun to spin and the room was tilting and swaying
     with it.
    "Fine. Ya win, baby. I give, mmkay?" His accent was strong, even to his drunk self
     and that made him giggle again.
    When she finally did speak, her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. It