The door was locked.

Author's Note: This additional story route was written by TreePizza, and is an interpretation of Jjaymes94 characters and story. As TreePizza, the person writing this Author's Note, I had gotten inspired to write because of this story and had hastily retconned many details because of this. So treat this route as you will; it wasn't planned by the original author and popped up out of nowhere like an anomaly. I will treat this route with creative liberty, and Jjaymes94 retains the right to edit my writing practices.

So with this in mind, the characters will behave differently here due to my involvement. That's all I wanted to say: to provide a reason for any discrepancies. It's like an alternate universe, kinda. Okay, I'm done.

Dean only wanted to check inside, but had no intention to enter Richard's room. He just needed to open the door.

Dean placed a gentle grip on the knob and turned with the similar demeanor. It was to be locked from the inside. Dean's heart stopped.

Stop, Dean said to himself, I'm overreacting. I'm too pent-up and nervous right now. Richard has the right to lock his door. But where the fuck is my Brooke?

Everyone knows Brooke loves him and he to her; and Richard was a sweaty introvert with the human appeal of a substance abusing block of cheese. Dean should smile and enjoy this part of him. Sex is sex, so this is supposed to be fun. A fun, sexy charity for poor Richard.

He's probably so nervous, laying in his bed right now, thinking about Brooke's amazing throat like a traumatized child. It must be too much for him. Who knows, maybe Richard would open up some more and develop some common ground and responsibility. And maybe want to be friends with Dean to get at Brooke again.

Dean chuckled silently to himself and gravitated his hand to his bulge, stroking himself absentmindedly. He released a shaky hot breath and walked up to his bedroom as quietly as he could, to avoid detection from the house's third wheel.

Maybe Brooke was testing some fabric in their bedroom? Maybe she took a nap. Oh, maybe she sent some pictures?

Dean pulled his phone out and opened his messages. He made it to his bedroom door and opened it with ease. He looked up, but when he entered, his eyes widened with disbelief: the room was dark and the bed was neatly made. And Brooke wasn't here. He looked down at his phone.

Brooke: Hey baby, I love you!! Also, I took Richard to go sightseeing in the city. We've really inspired him to go job hunting!! Tho I was hoping he'd get his first girl at the club and develop some people skills. We'll be back soon, food is on the counter babe!

There were no pictures...

Dean's leaned against the doorframe and texted back:

Dean: okay luv, don't hurt yourself. How was work?

Just a simple text. But FUCK. Why would Brooke leave the house and take Richard out without thinking to tell Dean? A sexy blowjob was the deal, not a detour date into the city. And a text doesn't count as communication when Dean couldn't affirm anything. And where the fuck are the sexting?

She never would have done this actively, especially during work hours. And her car is still outside, which spells out suspicious. This better be a cruel joke-of-a prank.

Five minutes of waiting pass and no response came from Brooke's end. And then Dean felt his stomach give in without warning, gurgling, and his heart shuddered. It was a sudden need to fart; his stomach was very agitated. He waited three more minutes, leaning against the doorframe in silence, thinking of what to text her.

Dean: Hey babe, how was that ‘thing’ with Richard? Did you enjoy it, haha. Any pictures or something? Don't make me get jealous

He exhaled and powered off his phone. Entering the bathroom, Dean unbuckled his pants with haste and accidentally dropped his phone. He sat on the toilet, at the edge, and hugged his stomach, his agitated stomach. The stomach of the shocked. And yet his soldier was still stubbornly rigid amidst his still booming heart. His imagination was racing, causing him to shudder within the warm winds.

Moments passed without anything else passing into the toilet bowl.

Dean was at the mirror and was studying his face. Breathing deeply. He reminded himself that he was being unfair.

"I am handsome... Brooke wouldn't love him..." He smiled at himself, imagining her gorgeous face. "I remember the threesomes we shared with her girls... And the explosion of kinky sex done together with her. I don't own her, Brooke is my friend..."

Dean started laughing, shaking his head. This fetish was intense. Or maybe it was just his imagination. He wonders how those two are doing at the city and he hopes they're having a good time together. He picked up the phone and realized he spent thirty-seven minutes in the bathroom. Brooke still didn't answer him back.