SPN Fanfics

She pulled into the parking lot of the fire station and took a deep calming breath before climbing out of her car. It was barely noon and had already been an incredibly long day. She walked around to the front where she found Sam and Cas washing the truck.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” Sam asked.

“Long story. Do you know where Dean is?”

Sam pointed towards the other side of the truck. “Right over there.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. She rounded the front of the truck and spotted Dean. The sight nearly made her forget the reason she was there.

He was wearing his navy blue department t-shirt with his bunker pants, red suspenders holding them in place. She watched as he finished folding up a hose and hoisted it onto his shoulder. The sleeves of his shirt strained slightly with the flex of his biceps. He had turned to put the hose away in the side compartment when he spotted her.

He knew she was checking him out. They had been best friends for years. They had shared a handful of drunken nights together and they flirted regularly. But neither of them were ever looking for more. He decided to make a show of putting away the last hose. He lifted it a little slower and flexed more than necessary. Once he finished, he finally turned to give her his full attention.

“You’re drooling, sweetheart.” He winked once she made eye contact.

That managed to snap her out of her trance. “I was not.” She sighed, “I, kinda, need a huge favor.”

“Anything. You know that.” Noticing how stressed she looked, he added, “You alright?”

“Just a really, really long morning. I need a place to stay. My ‘no pets allowed’ apartment building is being fumigated for fleas.”

“Of course. You know you don’t even need to ask. The spare room is basically yours anyway.” He pulled her over to hug her tightly. “You got your key, or you need mine?”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and returned his firm hug. “Yours, please. Mine is in my apartment.

He continued to hold her until her grip finally loosened. “You wanna go hang out there, or you gonna stay here a while?”

“Um, there. I think I might try to take a nap.”

“Okay.” He led her inside to his locker to get his key. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Dean. I’ll see you later.”

She got to Dean’s house and curled up on his couch with the rest of the pint of ice cream she had left there the week before. She turned on a random documentary on Netflix, hoping it would bore her to sleep.

An hour and a half later, she was still wide awake. Her mind was racing, and she was even more exhausted. She decided to try to distract herself with a movie, since sleep seemed a futile venture.

She was surprised when she was being shaken awake. “I brought pizza, if you’re hungry,” said Dean as he turned towards the kitchen. “You been sleeping all day?”

“No, I saw the beginning of this movie,” she started, pausing to see how far in it was. “Woo! Thirty minute power nap.”

“Well you kind of looked like you were having a bad dream,” he stated almost as if it were a question.

“Huh, I don’t remember.”

“Alright, well, let’s eat and watch something better than this chick flick you have on,” he teased.

“You love this movie, don’t even try that.” She got up to grab plates as he pulled out glasses and poured whiskey in both.

“I plead the fifth. Either way, I’m in the mood for an action movie.”

About an hour into the movie, she felt a familiar tightness start to build in her chest. It had been months since she’d had a full attack. She was hoping that streak would continue. But within ten minutes, that hope was gone.

“I gotta pee,” she announced as she nearly sprinted out of the room.

“Want me to pause?” he shouted after her.

“No, I’ve seen it, it’s fine.” She actually wanted the noise so he wouldn’t overhear her. All the years they had been friends, she had managed to keep her panic attacks a secret. He knew about her anxiety, but not about this.

She closed the bathroom door and tried splashing cold water on her face. It did nothing to calm her as she began to lose track of her breathing. She sank to the cool tile floor as she tried to regain control while staying as quiet as possible.

He’s going to find out. He will be worried. He will be mad I’ve never told him before. Her swarming thoughts of Dean learning about this only fueled the attack. She was completely unaware how long she’d been in there when she heard a knock at the door. It sounded a mile away, and she wasn’t even sure she wasn’t imagining the sound.

Then she heard it again, louder this time. The door was cracked open before she heard him, “Did you fall in? You’ve been—” he stopped as the wheezing sound became clear. He pushed open the door to find her curled with her knees to her chest as she was hyperventilating.

“I feel like I can’t breathe,” she managed between shaky breaths.

He had seen enough panic attacks in his line of work to know what was happening. He quickly moved to sit behind her and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Shh, you’re okay,” he soothed. “Can you take a deep breath for me, just one big deep breath?”

It took a few moments, but she was finally able to take one big gasp and managed to exhale a bit slower.

“Good girl. That’s really good. Now, can you tell me five things you can see?”

She took another shaky breath and swallowed roughly as she tried to focus on his request. “Umm, toilet, shower,” she looked around quickly, “towels, scale—”

“One more,” he encouraged.

“Uhh, your toothbrush.” She finished.

“Perfect. Four things you can touch?”

“Floor, towel, cabinets, you,” she stated as she wrapped her fingers tighter around his forearm.

“Good. Deep breath and tell me three things you hear.”

She took another deep breath, holding it for a moment before she exhaled. “Uh, a dog barking, crickets, and, ummm, a clock, I think.”

“Yep, good job,” he praised her. “What about two things you smell?”

That one required her to take another deep inhale through her nose. “Your cologne and smoke. You always smell like smoke.”

“I do not,” he chastised, teasingly. “Last, one thing you taste.”

“Whiskey,” she said, more easily than anything yet.

“Awesome. You feel a little better?” he asked, tentatively as he loosened his grip around her torso.

“I think so, yeah. Sorry.” She relaxed and lolled her head lazily back against his chest.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, sweetheart. I wish you’d told me so I could help, but I get it.” He shifted and lifted her carefully to carry her out to the couch. “How often do you have those?”

“Not very. It’s been months. Actually, years, since I had one that bad,” she explained.

“Do you know what triggered it?” He pulled a blanket over her before sitting where she could rest her head on his leg.

“Nothing? Everything?” She turned her head to look up at him. “I really don’t, just a really stressful day.”

“In the future, please, talk to me. You don’t need to hide it from me, okay?” She watched as concern settled across his features as he waited for a response.

“I’ll try not to. But, old habits die hard.”

“Guess that will have to be good enough. How about for now you just try and get some rest,” he requested. He ran his hand gently up and down her arm.

“Thank you, Dean,” she mumbled as her eyelids began to grow heavy.

“I got you, always,” he whispered as she finally succumbed to a peaceful sleep.

Part 1

———

You felt like you were floating. As if you were having an out of body experience. Taking deep breaths, you tried to catch your breath and slow your racing heart.

Dean efficiently released your wrists from the restraints, rubbing over the reddened skin from pulling on the binds. He pressed gentle kisses across the marks before gently rubbing your sore shoulders. “You did amazing tonight, pretty girl.”

You hummed softly at his words of praise.

He tenderly kissed your forehead as you felt him press a straw to your lips. “Sip your juice for me, sweetheart.” You greedily sucked down the cool liquid before he pulled it away and set it on the nightstand.

He was quiet for a moment, and you panicked thinking he had left. You quickly peeled your eyes open just before the bed dipped under his weight. “There you are. You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, reaching for him with grabby hands, wanting him closer. He laid down on his back and pulled you into himself. You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around you and started running his fingers softly up and down your side.

Nuzzling against him, you squeezed him in a hug. He rolled onto his side, seeming to sense you were trying to get closer. He wrapped his other arm over your shoulder and his leg around your hip.

He peppered kisses over your forehead and cheek, everywhere he could reach without letting you go. “You were perfect tonight, sweetheart.”

You sighed contentedly and let yourself drift toward sleep.

Eventually, Dean shifted, disrupting your half asleep bubble. “Let's clean up and then you can sleep.” He moved to stand and you grabbed his hand before he could step away. “I'm just going to start the bath; I'll be right back.”

You shook your head. “Don't leave me.” You knew it wasn't rational, but you weren't ready to be away from him yet.

His eyes swept over your face, assessing. “You feeling a little extra clingy tonight?”

You hid your face in your pillow, suddenly embarrassed.

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder. “Hey, no need to be shy now. You can cling all you want, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Take me with you.”

He hummed. “Okay,” gesturing you towards him, he requested, “stand up.” He patted the bed in front of him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but did as he'd asked and stood on the bed.

He turned his back to you before looking over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

You stepped closer, and he wrapped his hands under your knees and lifted you into a piggyback ride. You squealed as you grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards. Giggling, you tried to shift into a comfortable position as he walked toward the bathroom.

Once he'd turned the water on for the tub to fill, he set you on the counter and pulled out your toothbrush. He put toothpaste on it and handed it over before doing the same with his own.

Toothbrushes replaced in their holder, Dean lifted you off the counter in a bridal carry and shifted to set you carefully in the warm bath. He held your hand as he stepped in and settled behind you. “Warm enough?”

“Just right.” You rolled your eyes. He asked every time even though the water was always the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for taking care of you.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder as you melted into him. “So you still want me to throw out your mini vibe?”

“Dean,” you grumbled, getting a chuckle out of him.

“No, no, I’d never take away our favorite little helper.” He rubbed your shoulders gently, kneading the tense muscles. “We should just get you a spreader bar though so you stop misbehaving once and for all.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” you mumbled, burrowing back into his warm body.

He reached for the cup on the edge of the tub and scooted you forward enough to tilt your head back. Then, he washed and conditioned your hair before washing your body and himself. All the while, he continued to praise you as he littered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses. When the water started to cool, he pulled the drain and stood.

After quickly drying off and wrapping a towel around his hips, he helped you to stand and wrapped an oversized fluffy towel around your shoulders. He helped you step out of the tub and then rubbed his hands over the towel to dry you off. Once he was satisfied, he traded the towel for your rainbow colored robe with unicorn designs all over it. It never failed to make Dean laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Sit,” he requested, leading you towards the closed toilet seat. He ran the towel over your hair, ringing out as much moisture as he could. Next, he grabbed the blow dryer from where it lived on the counter and your brush and then spent the next several minutes brushing and drying your hair.

Once he was done, he took your hand and led you back to the bed. He moved over to his dresser and pulled out clothes—a pair of boxers for himself and a pair for you, along with one of his softest henleys. He untied your robe and pulled your arms free. He rubbed lotion into your skin, taking extra care over all the reddened marks he'd left.

He pulled his shirt over your head and held the arm holes open for you to more easily slip into. Finally, he knelt on the floor in front of you and helped guide your feet into the boxers.

He crawled up onto the bed and pulled you in with him. He settled in the middle and wrapped both arms around you like he had earlier. He kissed the crown of your head. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You slowly started to wake and snuggled into the bed. Shifting, you rubbed your nose, suddenly realizing that that was not a pillow.

Dean chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you. You were lying fully on top of him, your head on his chest and your legs pulled up on either side of him. You tried to roll off him, but he was too fast and wrapped both arms around you and hugged you. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning. Sorry for using you as a body pillow.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I don't mind. I was going to go make your breakfast in bed, but clearly, you had other plans.”

“It's not my fault you're so comfortable.” You lifted your head so you could kiss his chest. “What were you planning on making?”

“Bacon,” he announced. “What do you want? Pancakes? Eggs?”

Your stomach growled loudly. “Yes.”

He finally released you so you could roll off him. “Both, got it. Let's go.”

Half an hour later, you were sitting at the kitchen table with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a large mug of coffee as Dean settled in across from you.

You both ate in comfortable silence until you finally pushed your mostly empty plate away. “I can't eat any more. I'm stuffed.”

He shot you a cocky smirk and a wink.

“Oh, my god. Get your head out of the gutter.” You couldn't help but laugh as you tried to scold him.

He just chuckled as he stuffed more bacon into his mouth.

“Do you want to go grocery shopping with me?” you asked. “Maybe we could also go to the bookstore, and I can buy a new book… or ten.”

He shook his head. “I was thinking more like a lazy day hanging out at home.”

You stood and took your plate to rinse it off. “Why? We need groceries, and I'm almost done with my book.”

He brought his plate over, set it in the sink with yours, and wrapped his arms around you. “Both those things can wait until tomorrow.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder. “You dropped a little harder than usual last night. Just let me take care of you today, please?”

You spun in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could see he needed this the same way you had needed him to stay close. “Fine. Deal. But only if I get to pick what we watch.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're going to pick another princess movie, aren't you?”

You shook your head. “I was thinking more like the Christian Bale Batman movies.”

Quicker than you could anticipate the movement, Dean had you thrown over his shoulder as he walked toward the living room. He unceremoniously deposited you on the sectional before settling in beside you and pulling your feet into his lap.

You grabbed the remote and opened Netflix. As you searched for the first movie, he started to rub the arch of your left foot. “Okay. You win. Your plans were better.”

Part 1

———

You felt like you were floating. As if you were having an out of body experience. Taking deep breaths, you tried to catch your breath and slow your racing heart.

Dean efficiently released your wrists from the restraints, rubbing over the reddened skin from pulling on the binds. He pressed gentle kisses across the marks before gently rubbing your sore shoulders. “You did amazing tonight, pretty girl.”

You hummed softly at his words of praise.

He tenderly kissed your forehead as you felt him press a straw to your lips. “Sip your juice for me, sweetheart.” You greedily sucked down the cool liquid before he pulled it away and set it on the nightstand.

He was quiet for a moment, and you panicked thinking he had left. You quickly peeled your eyes open just before the bed dipped under his weight. “There you are. You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, reaching for him with grabby hands, wanting him closer. He laid down on his back and pulled you into himself. You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around you and started running his fingers softly up and down your side.

Nuzzling against him, you squeezed him in a hug. He rolled onto his side, seeming to sense you were trying to get closer. He wrapped his other arm over your shoulder and his leg around your hip.

He peppered kisses over your forehead and cheek, everywhere he could reach without letting you go. “You were perfect tonight, sweetheart.”

You sighed contentedly and let yourself drift toward sleep.

Eventually, Dean shifted, disrupting your half asleep bubble. “Let's clean up and then you can sleep.” He moved to stand and you grabbed his hand before he could step away. “I'm just going to start the bath; I'll be right back.”

You shook your head. “Don't leave me.” You knew it wasn't rational, but you weren't ready to be away from him yet.

His eyes swept over your face, assessing. “You feeling a little extra clingy tonight?”

You hid your face in your pillow, suddenly embarrassed.

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder. “Hey, no need to be shy now. You can cling all you want, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Take me with you.”

He hummed. “Okay,” gesturing you towards him, he requested, “stand up.” He patted the bed in front of him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but did as he'd asked and stood on the bed.

He turned his back to you before looking over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

You stepped closer, and he wrapped his hands under your knees and lifted you into a piggyback ride. You squealed as you grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards. Giggling, you tried to shift into a comfortable position as he walked toward the bathroom.

Once he'd turned the water on for the tub to fill, he set you on the counter and pulled out your toothbrush. He put toothpaste on it and handed it over before doing the same with his own.

Toothbrushes replaced in their holder, Dean lifted you off the counter in a bridal carry and shifted to set you carefully in the warm bath. He held your hand as he stepped in and settled behind you. “Warm enough?”

“Just right.” You rolled your eyes. He asked every time even though the water was always the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for taking care of you.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder as you melted into him. “So you still want me to throw out your mini vibe?”

“Dean,” you grumbled, getting a chuckle out of him.

“No, no, I’d never take away our favorite little helper.” He rubbed your shoulders gently, kneading the tense muscles. “We should just get you a spreader bar though so you stop misbehaving once and for all.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” you mumbled, burrowing back into his warm body.

He reached for the cup on the edge of the tub and scooted you forward enough to tilt your head back. Then, he washed and conditioned your hair before washing your body and himself. All the while, he continued to praise you as he littered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses. When the water started to cool, he pulled the drain and stood.

After quickly drying off and wrapping a towel around his hips, he helped you to stand and wrapped an oversized fluffy towel around your shoulders. He helped you step out of the tub and then rubbed his hands over the towel to dry you off. Once he was satisfied, he traded the towel for your rainbow colored robe with unicorn designs all over it. It never failed to make Dean laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Sit,” he requested, leading you towards the closed toilet seat. He ran the towel over your hair, ringing out as much moisture as he could. Next, he grabbed the blow dryer from where it lived on the counter and your brush and then spent the next several minutes brushing and drying your hair.

Once he was done, he took your hand and led you back to the bed. He moved over to his dresser and pulled out clothes—a pair of boxers for himself and a pair for you, along with one of his softest henleys. He untied your robe and pulled your arms free. He rubbed lotion into your skin, taking extra care over all the reddened marks he'd left.

He pulled his shirt over your head and held the arm holes open for you to more easily slip into. Finally, he knelt on the floor in front of you and helped guide your feet into the boxers.

He crawled up onto the bed and pulled you in with him. He settled in the middle and wrapped both arms around you like he had earlier. He kissed the crown of your head. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You slowly started to wake and snuggled into the bed. Shifting, you rubbed your nose, suddenly realizing that that was not a pillow.

Dean chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you. You were lying fully on top of him, your head on his chest and your legs pulled up on either side of him. You tried to roll off him, but he was too fast and wrapped both arms around you and hugged you. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning. Sorry for using you as a body pillow.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I don't mind. I was going to go make your breakfast in bed, but clearly, you had other plans.”

“It's not my fault you're so comfortable.” You lifted your head so you could kiss his chest. “What were you planning on making?”

“Bacon,” he announced. “What do you want? Pancakes? Eggs?”

Your stomach growled loudly. “Yes.”

He finally released you so you could roll off him. “Both, got it. Let's go.”

Half an hour later, you were sitting at the kitchen table with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a large mug of coffee as Dean settled in across from you.

You both ate in comfortable silence until you finally pushed your mostly empty plate away. “I can't eat any more. I'm stuffed.”

He shot you a cocky smirk and a wink.

“Oh, my god. Get your head out of the gutter.” You couldn't help but laugh as you tried to scold him.

He just chuckled as he stuffed more bacon into his mouth.

“Do you want to go grocery shopping with me?” you asked. “Maybe we could also go to the bookstore, and I can buy a new book… or ten.”

He shook his head. “I was thinking more like a lazy day hanging out at home.”

You stood and took your plate to rinse it off. “Why? We need groceries, and I'm almost done with my book.”

He brought his plate over, set it in the sink with yours, and wrapped his arms around you. “Both those things can wait until tomorrow.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder. “You dropped a little harder than usual last night. Just let me take care of you today, please?”

You spun in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could see he needed this the same way you had needed him to stay close. “Fine. Deal. But only if I get to pick what we watch.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're going to pick another princess movie, aren't you?”

You shook your head. “I was thinking more like the Christian Bale Batman movies.”

Quicker than you could anticipate the movement, Dean had you thrown over his shoulder as he walked toward the living room. He unceremoniously deposited you on the sectional before settling in beside you and pulling your feet into his lap.

You grabbed the remote and opened Netflix. As you searched for the first movie, he started to rub the arch of your left foot. “Okay. You win. Your plans were better.”

Part 1

———

You felt like you were floating. As if you were having an out of body experience. Taking deep breaths, you tried to catch your breath and slow your racing heart.

Dean efficiently released your wrists from the restraints, rubbing over the reddened skin from pulling on the binds. He pressed gentle kisses across the marks before gently rubbing your sore shoulders. “You did amazing tonight, pretty girl.”

You hummed softly at his words of praise.

He tenderly kissed your forehead as you felt him press a straw to your lips. “Sip your juice for me, sweetheart.” You greedily sucked down the cool liquid before he pulled it away and set it on the nightstand.

He was quiet for a moment, and you panicked thinking he had left. You quickly peeled your eyes open just before the bed dipped under his weight. “There you are. You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, reaching for him with grabby hands, wanting him closer. He laid down on his back and pulled you into himself. You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around you and started running his fingers softly up and down your side.

Nuzzling against him, you squeezed him in a hug. He rolled onto his side, seeming to sense you were trying to get closer. He wrapped his other arm over your shoulder and his leg around your hip.

He peppered kisses over your forehead and cheek, everywhere he could reach without letting you go. “You were perfect tonight, sweetheart.”

You sighed contentedly and let yourself drift toward sleep.

Eventually, Dean shifted, disrupting your half asleep bubble. “Let's clean up and then you can sleep.” He moved to stand and you grabbed his hand before he could step away. “I'm just going to start the bath; I'll be right back.”

You shook your head. “Don't leave me.” You knew it wasn't rational, but you weren't ready to be away from him yet.

His eyes swept over your face, assessing. “You feeling a little extra clingy tonight?”

You hid your face in your pillow, suddenly embarrassed.

He leaned over and kissed your shoulder. “Hey, no need to be shy now. You can cling all you want, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Take me with you.”

He hummed. “Okay,” gesturing you towards him, he requested, “stand up.” He patted the bed in front of him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but did as he'd asked and stood on the bed.

He turned his back to you before looking over his shoulder. “Hop on.”

You stepped closer, and he wrapped his hands under your knees and lifted you into a piggyback ride. You squealed as you grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards. Giggling, you tried to shift into a comfortable position as he walked toward the bathroom.

Once he'd turned the water on for the tub to fill, he set you on the counter and pulled out your toothbrush. He put toothpaste on it and handed it over before doing the same with his own.

Toothbrushes replaced in their holder, Dean lifted you off the counter in a bridal carry and shifted to set you carefully in the warm bath. He held your hand as he stepped in and settled behind you. “Warm enough?”

“Just right.” You rolled your eyes. He asked every time even though the water was always the perfect temperature. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me for taking care of you.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder as you melted into him. “So you still want me to throw out your mini vibe?”

“Dean,” you grumbled, getting a chuckle out of him.

“No, no, I’d never take away our favorite little helper.” He rubbed your shoulders gently, kneading the tense muscles. “We should just get you a spreader bar though so you stop misbehaving once and for all.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time,” you mumbled, burrowing back into his warm body.

He reached for the cup on the edge of the tub and scooted you forward enough to tilt your head back. Then, he washed and conditioned your hair before washing your body and himself. All the while, he continued to praise you as he littered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses. When the water started to cool, he pulled the drain and stood.

After quickly drying off and wrapping a towel around his hips, he helped you to stand and wrapped an oversized fluffy towel around your shoulders. He helped you step out of the tub and then rubbed his hands over the towel to dry you off. Once he was satisfied, he traded the towel for your rainbow colored robe with unicorn designs all over it. It never failed to make Dean laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Sit,” he requested, leading you towards the closed toilet seat. He ran the towel over your hair, ringing out as much moisture as he could. Next, he grabbed the blow dryer from where it lived on the counter and your brush and then spent the next several minutes brushing and drying your hair.

Once he was done, he took your hand and led you back to the bed. He moved over to his dresser and pulled out clothes—a pair of boxers for himself and a pair for you, along with one of his softest henleys. He untied your robe and pulled your arms free. He rubbed lotion into your skin, taking extra care over all the reddened marks he'd left.

He pulled his shirt over your head and held the arm holes open for you to more easily slip into. Finally, he knelt on the floor in front of you and helped guide your feet into the boxers.

He crawled up onto the bed and pulled you in with him. He settled in the middle and wrapped both arms around you like he had earlier. He kissed the crown of your head. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You slowly started to wake and snuggled into the bed. Shifting, you rubbed your nose, suddenly realizing that that was not a pillow.

Dean chuckled, and the sound vibrated through you. You were lying fully on top of him, your head on his chest and your legs pulled up on either side of him. You tried to roll off him, but he was too fast and wrapped both arms around you and hugged you. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning. Sorry for using you as a body pillow.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I don't mind. I was going to go make your breakfast in bed, but clearly, you had other plans.”

“It's not my fault you're so comfortable.” You lifted your head so you could kiss his chest. “What were you planning on making?”

“Bacon,” he announced. “What do you want? Pancakes? Eggs?”

Your stomach growled loudly. “Yes.”

He finally released you so you could roll off him. “Both, got it. Let's go.”

Half an hour later, you were sitting at the kitchen table with pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a large mug of coffee as Dean settled in across from you.

You both ate in comfortable silence until you finally pushed your mostly empty plate away. “I can't eat any more. I'm stuffed.”

He shot you a cocky smirk and a wink.

“Oh, my god. Get your head out of the gutter.” You couldn't help but laugh as you tried to scold him.

He just chuckled as he stuffed more bacon into his mouth.

“Do you want to go grocery shopping with me?” you asked. “Maybe we could also go to the bookstore, and I can buy a new book… or ten.”

He shook his head. “I was thinking more like a lazy day hanging out at home.”

You stood and took your plate to rinse it off. “Why? We need groceries, and I'm almost done with my book.”

He brought his plate over, set it in the sink with yours, and wrapped his arms around you. “Both those things can wait until tomorrow.” He kissed along your neck and shoulder. “You dropped a little harder than usual last night. Just let me take care of you today, please?”

You spun in his arms and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could see he needed this the same way you had needed him to stay close. “Fine. Deal. But only if I get to pick what we watch.”

He rolled his eyes. “You're going to pick another princess movie, aren't you?”

You shook your head. “I was thinking more like the Christian Bale Batman movies.”

Quicker than you could anticipate the movement, Dean had you thrown over his shoulder as he walked toward the living room. He unceremoniously deposited you on the sectional before settling in beside you and pulling your feet into his lap.

You grabbed the remote and opened Netflix. As you searched for the first movie, he started to rub the arch of your left foot. “Okay. You win. Your plans were better.”

You arched your back, sighing quietly through your first orgasm, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Dean slid his body back up to yours, stealing your lips away for his own pleasure, smiling against them. You went to reach for his hair, keep him close, but felt the gentle tug of the padded restraint on your wrist.

“Good girl,” Dean murmured against your ear, one hand sliding between your bodies, finding your breast and brushing over your pointed nipple. You groaned as he teased it. A pinch here. Roll of the fingers there. You strained again, huffing when he tsked you. “Greedy tonight, are we?”

“Dean,” you growled, pouting when he stopped playing with you completely. His face hovered over yours, a dark smirk on his face.

“Good girls get orgasms and you’re not being very good right now. Maybe I ought to remind you how to behave.” 

“No! I can be good,” you said, Dean already winking and disappearing from view. You swallowed when he rolled off the bed, rummaging around. You lifted your head, frowning when he returned to the end of the bed holding a small black tube. 

“I love this little thing,” he said, flipping the switch on. You swallowed thickly, Dean grinning as you squeezed your legs together. “No, no. You wanted me to give you my full attention and you’ve got it.”

He swatted your thigh, the two of you staring at one another, silently fighting for control. “Open now or I edge you for an hour and you don’t get to come again tonight.”

You closed your eyes and relented. You spread yourself wide for him, Dean humming his satisfaction at your compliance. Your breath hitched as the bed dipped, the low vibrations of the mini vibe against your clit pleasant but nowhere near enough to get you off.

“Give me one, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing up your body, mouthing at you nipple. “Just one and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll feel me for days.”

You arched your hips up into his hand, Dean teasing you by pulling the vibe away. You yanked on the restraints again, Dean toying with your breast with his free hand, his mouth nipping at the other. With an ungodly amount of willpower, you forced your legs to go still and body to ease back into the bed. Dean rewarded you with the vibe, a thin layer of sweat breaking out over your warm skin. 

You whole body was tingly, wanting desperately that second orgasm that would blow the first one out of the water. Dean Winchester was a man that knew how to deliver on the first go around but there was nothing he loved more than pushing you to the edge of your limits and then some. Which was clearly his goal tonight. You could feel that familiar pressure in your core growing but Dean wanted that elusive nipple orgasm that you’d only managed a few times before.

He sucked hard on your breast, his pinching becoming borderline painful but god, it felt so damn good. Sparks of pleasure ran from your nipples straight to your clit, Dean humming as you started to grind against the vibrator. Hips rolled in time with his assault on your breasts, Dean sure to leave bruises behind. Fuck, you were right there, Dean greedily crushing the poor bud under his strong fingers.

And then the vibrations stopped and you thrust up into open air, clit throbbing as your deep, low orgasm rumbled through you, turning sharp and pointed when Dean didn’t let up teasing your breasts. You cried out, legs scrambling for something to squeeze, Dean pushing you through it until you were sucking in deep breaths.

“And you say you hate that toy,” he chuckled, swiping his tongue over your nipple, an ungodly spark of pleasure coursing through you. “So…sensitive.”

He brought the vibe up, leaning down to kiss you roughly as he let the tip of it drag over your swollen peak. You squealed straight into him, Dean’s tongue mapping out your mouth for the millionth time. You pressed your chest up, Dean kissing you harder as your head spun, a brutal wave of pleasure building up in your body.

“You’re right,” he said, suddenly pulling everything away, your head spinning as the cusp of another high was stolen. “Such a silly little toy. I ought to go throw this away.”

Some garbled half moan, half screech left your lips, Dean grinning and climbing on top of you. The tip of his cock hit your clit and you nearly forgot how to breathe.

“One more for me, sweetheart.” You were so wet there was no need for lube. Dean slammed himself inside of you in one go, resting one hand by your head. You squeezed your eyes shut, Dean’s lips finding yours. “Go as many times you need to, sweetheart, cause I ain’t stopping until I give you all I got.”

Dean’s hips snapped forward, your walls trying desperately to clamp down onto him as he fucked your pliant body hard and fast. You shouted against his closed lips when the vibe touched your clit, an orgasm rocking through you, head pounding. Dean didn’t falter one bit, even with the added friction of your death grip on his cock. Over and over, your toes curling, legs wrapped around his back so hard you knew you’d leave marks on him.

Your orgasm barely faded before you rolled into the next one, Dean kissing under your jaw as you openly shouted. Too much pleasure rocked your body, too much heat, too much of Dean’s scent, his kisses, his body all around yours.

You threw your head back hard when you came around him, Dean biting your collarbone, his cock throbbing as he came deep within you.

____________

The four walls of the narrow elevator shook and creaked as it cleared the 20th floor. You inhaled sharply, but resisted the urge to grab the inner guardrail. This thing was old, just like the rest of the building.

But then, Betsy screeched and made an abrupt stop.

You were woefully unprepared. You slid in your heels and gasped—both at the jolt, and at the hot lattes tipping out of your hand and down your blouse and skirt.

Shit!

You didn’t even have time to wince at the scalding hot coffee, as you nearly rolled an ankle in the spillage. Luckily, you were able to grab at that guardrail. You sucked in relatively even breaths as you realized what happened…

The elevator stopped, but not on your floor.

“Oh, God…” you uttered, staring up at the red, digital “21” above the metal doors. It was blinking, but not moving. Just like you weren’t moving. Which meant…you were stuck.

Okay, not a big deal. You’re fine, you thought, trying to calm yourself. All you had on you was your phone, your ID, and your credit card. You’d decided to leave your purse in your desk, since you were just walking across the street.

But that was okay! Because you still had your phone…

“No service. Of course,” you muttered, raising your phone high to try and get a bar. This elevator was a dead zone, and it always had been. Fucking hell…

So you did the only thing you could think of.

You shouted for help.

You pressed the emergency alarm, several times.

You could hear it blare and echo outside of the chamber of the elevator, but no one seemed to hear you. Your work building was huge, made up of several departments and hundreds of employees here at Savage & Co. There was always plenty going on, especially in the middle of the morning.

Maybe no one could hear you.

“All right. Don’t…don’t panic,” you told yourself. Even though your heart was beginning to pound.

You finally pressed the “Call” button outlined in red. You didn’t know if it worked; half the floor buttons on the console didn’t even light up anymore.

But to your relief, the sound of a phone line ringing echoed through the small speaker. After a few rings, someone answered.

“Fire Department.”

“Oh, God. Yes!”

With a hand on the rail, you managed to kneel down next to the speaker. Your free hand brushed a strand of hair away from your dewy face. There was no AC in here, and you were starting to sweat. Thankfully, the rest of your hair was pulled up into a clip.

“I’m stuck in one of the oldest elevators known to man,” you told the disembodied voice.

“Sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”

You gave them your name, along with the address of your company’s building. The voice promised that they were dispatching a until to come and get you out soon.

“How soon is soon?” you asked.

“…About forty-five minutes, give or take.”

Jesus Christ.

You baked inside Betsy for close to an hour. While your makeup slowly melted, you found a corner of the ground that wasn’t covered by a coffee puddle, and you pressed the alarm button at random intervals. Still, no one seemed to hear it. You used the empty coffee tray to try and fan yourself.

Your phone was also useless. You tucked that along with your credit card into your bra for safe keeping. You’d definitely missed your meeting about the prospective Zimmerman account—one you and your coworker Josh were competing to nail down, as the top performers in the sales department. You couldn’t even catch up on your emails.

Damn it, Nick’s gonna chew my head off, you thought. But then you frowned, your brows furrowing. Well, it’s his fault for not maintaining this damn building. And for ordering a damn caramel frappe! What is he, a 12-year-old girl?

Your skirt was still sticky on the side. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the metal wall and closed your eyes. Ah, well. At least I’m not claustrophobic.

“Fire Department!” called a man’s voice from above. “Can you hear me down there?”

You gasped and opened your eyes. Your gaze raised heavenward, and you called out to the voice.

“Hello?!”

“Ah, we found you. You okay, ma’am? Are you hurt?”

“Y-Yes…” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I mean, no. I’m not hurt.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “You’re stuck between two floors, but we’re gonna get you out, all right?”

“Okay.” You sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed the rail so you could get back onto your feet. “I’m stuck on the 21st floor right?”

“Well, in between 21 and 22. Hold on one sec.”

 You stood there with bated breath, just waiting for something to happen. You heard tools whirring, felt the elevator shutter for a moment, but it didn’t budge. Until you heard a thump on the roof. You looked up, but of course you couldn’t see what was happening.

Until a square patch in the roof was unscrewed and drawn back, revealing a firefighter in almost all his gear: wearing a gray shirt tucked into navy pants, red suspenders, black boots and gloves. All he was missing was a jacket and a hardhat.

He did wear a harness, and he held another one in his gloved hand, as well as a charming, almost boyish grin on his face.

“There you are,” he greeted.

You didn’t know if it was the lack of AC, or his ridiculously handsome features, but you felt your face heat up further.

“Uh, hi,” you said, very eloquently. You offered a smile back. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten there yet, but we will,” he said, still with that grin as he lowered the second harness down to you. “I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

You gave it to him as you took the harness.

“Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t have this on your bingo card today, did ya?”

You snorted in response. “Not even in my fortune cookie.”

It earned an amused look from him. Then he proceeded to instruct you on how to put the harness on around your waist and shoulders and clip the straps together.

“Okay, good. Now tug it, make sure it’s tight enough,” Dean said, motioning with his hand. You obliged him.

“Perfect.” He nodded, before crouching down and lowering his hands through the compartment. “All right, now. Just take my hands. I’m gonna pull you up.”

You looked up at him, then and at the narrow escape hatch with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he said, noting your reluctance (and your white-knuckle grip on the guardrail). “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, I doubt anything about this situation is safe,” you replied wryly. You glanced at the elevator’s metal walls. Even now, they groaned under Dean’s shifting weight.

“I mean, I’m sure you’re strong and all,” you said, with a vague gesturing hand at him. You couldn’t quite tell from your limited vantage point, but Dean could barely fit his broad shoulders through the hole he’d opened up. He was probably a big guy.

Still, you didn’t like the idea of your legs dangling in mid-air. 

“I’m a woman, but I’m still a full-grown person,” you said, your brows beginning to furrow in worry. “People are heavy, and this thing is rickety as hell, and that’s a really tiny window…”

“All right,” Dean gently interrupted. He looked like he was trying hard not to chuckle, and you didn’t appreciate it…even though you were biting your lip, trying not to smile too (more in embarrassment).

“I promise you, the line’s got you,” he said. And he tugged on the sturdy rope that connected to your harness.

His eyes met yours directly, firm and assuring. They were green, you noticed, even in this fluorescent lighting.

“More importantly, I’ve got you. And there’s no way I’m gonna let you fall,” he said, with what seemed like every conviction in the world. “Just take my hands.”

He leaned in further so you could reach him.

…And damn it, you believed him.

Staring into his eyes, you found the courage to suck in a deep breath and release the guardrail. You reached up and let his hands curl tightly around yours. You gripped him right back.

“All right, pull up!” he called back over his shoulder.

You couldn’t see them, but you heard the voices of other firefighters as they slowly retracted Dean’s harness line as well as yours. When he was able to plant his feet on the roof of the elevator again, you held your breath as he pulled you all the way up as well.

You lost a heel along the way though. It fell off your foot and hit the bottom of the elevator below.

“Woops,” Dean said. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you securely against him when your heel (and bare foot) also met the elevator roof, a bit awkwardly. You both peered back down through the square hole.

“Want me to get that for you?” he offered, with another one of those grins.

Now you knew you were blushing. Stop it!

You shook your head as you clung to his arms. You felt the strength in them, and it steadied you, along with the easy way about him that said he was more than comfortable with the perils of rescuing trapped women from old-ass elevators.

“Don’t even worry about it,” you told him. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

Dean chuckled then. “I hear ya. Let’s go, then.”

He glanced up and called out to a “Benny” and a “Gordon.” You assumed they were the men securing the harnesses that held you and Dean.

“Okay. You ready, sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod, even as you bit your lip again at the endearment. Usually when men called you sweetheart, (like your boss), it was like nails on a damn chalkboard.

But somehow, it didn’t seem so sleezy coming from the charming fireman.

You craned to looked up at his face. He was much taller than you, even with half your heels. Dean met your eyes again, and for a moment, you were tense. The elevator shaft was dark and cold, but the light from the open doors of the floor above allowed you to see his face, decorated lightly with stubble, and his brown hair that spiked to one side.

Your mouth parted, though you didn’t have a clue of what to say next…

You were saved when the lines went even more taut, and the firefighters on the floor above brought you and Dean all the way up to the 22nd floor. He helped you reach out to a bearded fireman, who supported your arms and carried you out of the elevator shaft, onto solid ground.

A small crowd had formed in the lobby. Zachariah the CFO was there, along with the building manager, and your friend Andréa, who looked both worried and relieved to see you. And even your boss, Nick, came forward to meet you once Benny and Dean helped you take off the harness.

“You’ve had a busy morning,” Nick drawled.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

Technically, he was everyone’s boss: Nick Savage, CEO of Savage & Co. He’d inherited the company from his father. However, Nick believed his one sad year of college business classes made him an expert on running your sales department with a firm hand.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re all right,” he said. Though his eyes glanced down your stained, white blouse, down to your bare foot. His gaze made your spine prickle. And not in a good way.

You crossed your arms on reflex. “I know I missed the meeting—”

“We recorded it. You’ll be able to watch it later, take notes, all that good stuff,” he said, his head tilting in that lazy way of his. He gestured at you with a finger. “But, uh…once you’re done cleaning up, think you could nip back out and get me that coffee? Since, you know, you’re kind of wearing it.”

Behind you, the team of firefighters discreetly watched the scene while packing up their gear—some with curiosity and bemusement, others (namely Dean) with a subtle frown.

You were livid.

But you managed to keep it down, just beneath your skin, as you bent down and took off your remaining heel.

“I’m requesting the afternoon off as personal time,” you informed him with (mostly) all due professionalism. There was a fire in your eyes, however, that not even you could tame.

“But don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll still land the Zimmerman account by Friday.”

You turned and dropped your shoe into a nearby garbage can. You didn’t want to be reminded of your boss every time you saw the coffee stains.

Before you left, you stopped in front of Dean and the other firefighters.

“Thank you very much for all your help,” you said, giving them all a smile. Your gaze lingered on Dean, who smiled back at you and nodded, his hands resting on his belt.

“You got it, sweetheart.”

Your lips twitched. Then you continued on your way towards the exit door, to the stairwell. You shoved it open and walked bare-footed up to your office to get your purse. 

You’d left Nick silently fuming in the middle of the hall. You knew there wasn’t too much he could do with an entire crowd of witnesses.

He soon huffed and let your behavior roll off his back, as he became distracted by Zachariah and the building manager asking about the last time the elevator was properly serviced.

Meanwhile, Dean and Benny shared an amused look as their team rolled out.

Damn, Dean thought, remembering how you’d stopped in your little storm out, just to thank them. And how you’d held your head high as you walked away on bare feet.

He could admit, you had both class and style.

“Really, Grandpa. I’m fine,” you insisted.

Now in the comfort of your own home, and in your pajamas after a nice hot shower, you stirred a pot of chicken soup for your Grandpa George. He eyed you from the kitchen table with a measure of suspicion.

“Well, it’s lucky for you we’ve got a responsive Fire Department,” he said. “In the sleepy little town I grew up in, you’d be lucky if the whole damn building didn’t cave in before somebody got to ya.”

You shot him an amused look.

“Thanks. Makes me feel better about stepping into an elevator ever again.”

George seemed to consider the prospect, but he soon waved a vague hand.

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” George said, waving a hand. “Even if one of the cables snapped, you’d have three more holdin’ you up. And it should only need one cable to support the compartment, make sure the whole thing doesn’t fall to the damn ground.”

Your grandfather had been a technician for sixty years, so he knew a little thing about commercial building maintenance. However, right now, he wasn’t making you feel any better about your somewhat perilous experience. You paled a bit at the thought of cables snapping, leading to a long, Tower of Terror-style drop.

Except there’d be nothing to catch you at the bottom.

“It’s okay. I’ll just start walking up all 22 floors up to my office every day,” you said, smiling wryly. “I’ll finally have thighs like Wonder Woman.”

George laughed, though it soon ended on a cough. You eyed him with a frown as you ladled out a bowl of soup for him. You went over to him, both to set down the bowl in front of him and rub his back.

“Still with that cough. I don’t like it,” you said. “I’m making an appointment with your doctor.”

George shook his head and grabbed his glass of water.

“Just something caught in my throat.”

“Mhmm,” you replied. He was the absolute king of downplaying. It used to drive your grandma nuts.

You sighed and raised a hand to your forehead. An ache was building behind your eyes. Or maybe it had been there since you left work early today, and you were just now realizing how tightly wound your spine was.

“You okay?” George asked. You read the concern in his eyes and tried to relax your face from its scrunching.

“Yeah. Just a tension headache.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should spend less time worrying about me, and more time taking care of yourself,” he pointed out. “You had a stressful day. Why don’t you go relax? Or better yet, go out! Go see your friends. Get in a bar fight. Something productive.”

A grin curved your lips as you raised a brow.

“A bar fight would make me more productive?”

George grinned up at you. “Well, at least it’d get you out of the house.”

You pursed your lips. There was a reason you didn’t go out very often, and your grandfather knew it. You were the only one who could watch out for him now, even if he didn’t think he needed it. Your mouth opened to reply, but before you could, your cell phone rang through the house.

For a moment, the two of you stared at one another. Until George raised his brows.

“You should get that, huh?” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, despite your small smile, and you raised a finger as you went to get your purse over in the living room.

“We’re not done, old man,” you said over your shoulder.

“Oh, believe me. I know,” he grumbled, delving into his soup with a spoon.

Meanwhile, you fished your phone out of your purse and answered. A genuine, if tired smile graced your lips. It was your best friend, Andréa. She worked with you at Savage & Co., over in Marketing as a graphic designer.

As fate would have it, the two of you were hired on the same day five years ago. She’d invited you to lunch that day, and from then on, you two had been rocking through corporate life like Thelma and Louise—if Thelma had been a Greek artist and Louise had been a sarcastic saleswoman. 

“Hey, Dre,” you greeted.

“Hello, my love. Congratulations for surviving your near-death experience, and getting to serve Nick Savage a bit of humble pie,” she teased. “I thought you were going to lobby your Prada heel at his head.”

You huffed and plopped down on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table.

“First of all, let’s not be too dramatic. I was stuck in an elevator, not a Chilean mine shaft,” you said wryly. “Second, you really think I would throw away Prada? Even if it was coffee stained… Those were just my $30 Steve Maddens.”

And yet, they had been your most comfortable heels. Maybe you should just find some sensible flats in the back of your closet and be done with it. But you liked the height and confidence that a nice pair of heels gave you—especially in that office filled with “Mad Men” wannabes.

Every male on your sales team thought he was Jon Hamm in a room full of George Costanzas.

Nick Savage was the worst out of all of them.

You dealt with it, however, and sometimes even thrived on being the only woman on the team. Mostly because you needed your job.

It paid well enough, but most of it went into the upkeep of your grandparents’ old house, and for the past few years, their extensive medical bills…

“Still, at least you got a Mission Impossible-style rescue out of it,” said Andréa. Her tone turned both leading and flirtatious. “Tell me you got that fireman’s number. Dear God Almighty, what a Grade-A Hottie.”

You chortled through your blush at remembering Dean, the firefighter who saved you. You could admit, he’d been one fine specimen of a man.

“Grade-A Hottie. What are we, in middle school?” you retorted. “Besides, he was just doing his job.”

“Ugh, you’re so pragmatic it hurts,” your friend lamented. “You really need to live a little, while you’re still hot and firm.”

You laughed fully at that one. “Yeah, I think taking the stairs from now on will help with the ‘firm’ bit.”

Just like the strength of the firefighter’s hold had been. You’d felt entirely secure after he’d pulled you up on the elevator roof. His arms had reassured you even more than the harness, if you thought about it. (And your face heated up further at said thought.)

“I do wish I could say thank you again, somehow,” you mused out loud, not really thinking about who exactly you were talking to.

“Oh, yeah?” Andréa said. You could practically hear her mischievous grin. It made you slightly nervous. “Well, it’s not unheard of for a grateful civilian to stop by a firehouse. You could bring him lunch or something!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” you said. Your instinct was to withdraw inward at the thought of putting yourself out there like that. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.

“What’re you talking about? Firefighters love food! Believe me, my cousin Meg is a paramedic,” Andréa said. Then she gasped. “Oh, girl. I have the perfect idea for you. Why don’t you bake something for the whole firehouse? That way it takes some of the pressure off, but you still get to see him.”

You became more contemplative then.

Bake something, huh?

Now, that you could do. Andréa knew all too well that the one thing that could get your gears turning was getting your apron on, as baking was your ultimate hobby. It made you feel creative, and damn-near stress free…

And her idea wasn’t too shabby, the more you thought about it. It was something kind that you knew you could do. And more than anything, you really did just want to say thank you, one more time.

You smiled.

“Okay. I think we have a plan.” However, your smile soon fell. “Wait, I have no idea what firehouse he works at.”

“Hmm, my cousin might know,” Andréa said. “Let me reach out to her…what’s his name again?”

“Dean,” you replied. Another small smile reached your lips, against your will.

“His name was Dean.”

AN: Ah, the first chapter! Launching a new story is always so exciting! 🥰 What did you think of the reader and Dean's first meeting?

Also, feel free to imagine Mark Pellegrino's "Nick" for this (I am). He didn't have a last name on the show, so I created one for this story, as he's going to be an important antagonist throughout.

And just so you guys know, my knowledge of the inner workings of fire departments and law enforcement will largely come from my own research and being a huge fan of procedurals, like Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Law & Order, etc.

Yes, aspects are fictionalized on those shows, but a lot of it is rooted in real-life protocol and stories. All the love and respect for creator/executive producer Dick Wolf. 😂

...Oh, and the elevator scene was inspired by true events. (Yes, I've been stuck in an elevator before. 🫠 Two ridiculously hot firefighters pulled me out, but by then I was melting from the lack of AC, had no makeup, and was dressed like a female!Dean, plaid and all lmao.)

Anywho...

Next Time:

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled a bit. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

Due to Tumblr's dumb 50-only tag rule, I'm tagging the rest of you in a reblog. 😘

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420