Dean Winchester's Witch

“Not much,” she answers just as quietly as he had asked. “A couple texts, and obviously the photos in the group chat.”

Jake smiles despite himself, remembering the selfie you’d dropped in the group chat two nights ago. Mountains behind you, smiling so brightly he’d stared at the picture for five minutes before realizing everyone else had moved on to arguing about something stupid.

Rooster wanders in, taking a chip from the bowl on the countertop. “You bought fancy tortilla chips.”

Jake doesn’t look up from his tablet positioning. “They were on sale.”

“Bullshit,” Rooster scoffs as the rest enter, and all take a sample of said chips.

“You put them in a bowl,” Coyote adds.

“Because I don’t want all your crumby hands touching my stuff.”

“Taste expensive,” Fanboy says around a mouthful.

“They taste like chips.” Jake defends.

“They taste like you were given a list of what to buy,” Payback smirks, crunching a chip loudly.

“Fine,” Jake huffs, adjusting the iPad a half-inch to the left. “I was given strict instructions and a detailed list with pictures. Satisfied?”

“Your girl really knows how to spoil us,” Bob grins.

Even when she’s not here. Instead of saying that aloud, he beams proudly. “My girl really does.”

“Our girl,” Phoenix corrects sternly.

“Exactly,” Rooster agrees, “we’re all emotionally invested now.”

“You did that to yourselves,” Jake shrugs.

Before anyone can throw something at him, the iPad lights up and buzzes against the countertop.

Weirdly, he becomes nervous, his stomach doing a little flip. You promised you’d join game night. Well, you promised Rooster. Jake had smiled and nodded because saying ‘please don’t forget about us,’ would’ve sounded pathetic. Somewhere during the last week, he’d convinced himself you’d cancel.

Ignoring the nerves, he swipes to answer.

Your face fills the screen almost instantly. The backdrop is unmistakably different from San Diego. Beyond the window, the evening sky glows amber against dark silhouettes of distant mountains.

“There she is,” Phoenix cheers.

Before Jake can even say hello, everyone is crowding toward the iPad, waving, shouting greetings over one another until your laugh crackles through the speakers.

“Hi! I can see exactly none of you.”

Jake chuckles, zooming out on the screen so the camera picks up more of the room. “Better?”

“Perfect.” Your gaze settles on him for a beat longer than anyone else, long enough for the corners of your mouth to soften. “Hi.”

His answering smile comes just as easily. “Hi yourself.”

Beside him, Rooster makes an exaggerated gagging noise. Without taking his eyes off the screen, Jake reaches back and blindly punches him on the shoulder. It lands perfectly. Rooster stumbles a step, clutching his arm in mock pain.

“That’s assault,” Rooster teases, “and it’s on video.”

“Worth it,” Jake counters.

“Behave, children,” Phoenix sighs before turning back to the screen. Her brow furrows. “Wait...are you still in the office? It’s after seven.”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “The Wi-Fi at the apartment isn’t great. I didn’t want to risk freezing through game night.”

The apartment.

Not my apartment. Jake isn’t entirely sure why the distinction settles something restless in his chest, but it does.

Before he can examine it any further, Bob leans over the island, toward the screen. “Can we see it?”

You smile, genuinely happy to oblige as you reach to pick up your phone. “Hold on,” you say a moment before the camera flips to show the room.

A wall of built-in bookshelves stretches floor to ceiling, broken only by framed awards and carefully arranged photographs. A charcoal sofa sits opposite two matching armchairs around a low oak coffee table that looks more at home in a designer showroom than a workspace.

“Damn,” Coyote mutters.

The camera pans toward the glass front of the office, the frosted panels offering privacy, but you’d see silhouettes of people pass through the corridor outside.

“You’ve got a lounge?” Payback asks.

“Technically it’s a meeting area.”

“It’s a lounge.”

You laugh but don’t argue.

The camera continues across the room, catching a massive television mounted on the wall before settling on the window behind your desk.

The city stretches out beneath the building, lights beginning to flicker to life as the last of the sunset paints the distant mountains in shades of gold and burnt orange.

Fanboy whistles. “Okay, that’s ridiculous.”

“She earned it,” Jake says.

There’s a knock against the glass wall of your office. Three light taps. Jake’s attention snaps to the movement, and you haven’t flipped the camera back to you yet.

“Come in,” you call.

As you turn, the camera swings with you. For a split second, Jake catches a broad frame filling the doorway before the phone dips toward the floor as you lower it to your side.

All he can see now is the bottom of a dark oak bookshelf and designer shoes.

His stomach drops.

Him.

Even before the man speaks, Jake knows it’s the owner of the same voice he’d overheard on the phone.

“You left this in the conference room.”

“Oh wow,” Phoenix gasps, eyes flaring wide for a split second before she schools her features.

Jake tears his eyes away from the screen just long enough to glare at her. “Oh wow?” he whisper-shouts, “Seriously?”

She winces apologetically. “Not wow wow,” she gestures helplessly toward the screen. “Just wow, he’s got a deep voice.”

“That’s not any better,” Rooster mutters, trying not to laugh.

Jake completely misses whatever is being said in your office. All he catches is your laugh, not what was funny, just your laugh. He doesn’t like it, and his imagination supplies the rest of the conversation without permission. Some inside joke, mutual thoughts that are whispered behind closed doors to bond, to get closer.

The camera blurs as you move again. “Sorry guys,” you say as the camera lifts. “This is Evan.”

He’s tall. Really tall. Broad shoulders. Evan appears to be around the group's collective average age. Dark curls that somehow manage to look artfully untidy.

Definitely spends forty-five minutes doing his hair. Jake thinks.

The blue button-down looks custom-made, sleeves rolled neatly to below his elbow, the top button casually undone. One hand disappears into the pocket of expensive-looking trousers while the other offers a small, polite wave toward the camera.

Jake has no doubts that a tailored jacket and a tie in the same tone have been meticulously hung in an office closet somewhere.

He immediately decides he hates him. Not because he’s done anything wrong, simply on principle. And because he looks exactly like the cover models on your favorite books.

Probably says things like ‘let’s circle back.’

“Nice to finally meet you,” Evan says with an easy smile.

Jake narrows his eyes.

Huh, typical nice guy act.

“Evan’s been helping me settle in,” you explain. “I’d have died on day two if he hadn’t shown me the good coffee shops.”

He chuckles. “I’ve heard a lot about the legendary game nights.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” Rooster says because Jake can’t seem to find his voice.

“Mostly that they’re non-negotiable. So we’ve accepted we’re losing this one for the monthly Quiz Night,” He nods to you behind the camera. “Have fun.”

“You too.”

“See you Monday.” He calls over his shoulder.

It’s mundane, a polite thing to say, but Jake is suddenly intensely jealous. Evan gets to see you Monday. He doesn’t. It’s irrational, and he hates that.

Jake’s spiraling thoughts are apparently clearly visible on his face, so Bob steps in to save him. “Okay,” he announces loudly. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Over the next hour, three arguments erupt. Phoenix has had to put Coyote in a timeout. Seven times, Fanboy accusingly fact-checks whoever is the Game Master for that round about the answers. Fanboy is wrong exactly seven times. Jake has been uncharacteristically quiet since Payback called you Colorado and everyone adopted the nickname, like he needs the reminder.

“Okay, okay, quiet down,” Phoenix calls like a kindergarten teacher, “Colorado won’t be able to hear.”

Coyote waits for the noise to dissipate and then pulls a card from the deck. "Okay, for the tiebreaker. If Team Two gets this right, you win the game." Pausing, he surveys the groups, ensuring everyone is paying attention before continuing. "Which geographical feature is an isolated hill with steep sides and a small flat top?”

Fanboy does a drum roll on the kitchen countertop, and Payback flips the timer.

“A cliff?” Rooster asks, looking at Phoenix, clearly not confident with his answer.

“It’s a butte,” you shout through the speaker.

Everyone turns toward the iPad. “Are you sure?” Phoenix asks.

You laugh. “I’ve spent the last three weeks surrounded by them and getting lectured on the differences between a mountain, a butte, and a mesa.”

“I’m going to need your final answer.”

“Butte,” you and your three teammates say simultaneously.

“Correct,” Coyote says.

“Show off,” Jake smiles at you.

Although the apartment is a mess, pizza boxes stacked haphazardly, empty beer bottles littering every available surface, Jake insists he doesn’t need help cleaning up. He’ll happily tackle it alone if it buys him ten more minutes with you.

He carries the iPad with him, holding it to his chest as he herds everyone out of the front door. They all call goodbye, and you promise to call Phoenix tomorrow three times before she agrees to leave.

Finally, the front door closes, and silence settles. Jake takes you both to the couch, propping the iPad on the coffee table.

“God,” You murmur, smile faltering. “I miss you guys.”

“Feeling's mutual.”

He watches as you drop your gaze, and he recognizes the deep inhale for what it is—an attempt to stifle your emotions.

“Hey,” he says gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Your answer comes a fraction too quickly, and the rise of his brow makes you confess, “I’m just a little homesick.”

He nods slowly. He more than understands. It’s not an area code you miss. It’s the people in it. “That’s allowed.”

“Is it?”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t.”

You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m busy, which is good. But everyone keeps asking how I’m settling in.” You glance toward the office door before looking back at him. “I keep telling them I’m getting there.”

There’s too long a pause, so Jake asks, “And are you?”

“Some days.” You sigh. “But then I talk to you or Phoenix calls, and I’m back to convincing myself I made the wrong decision.”

“You didn’t,” he says, though he doesn’t entirely feel it. He changes the subject before he drops to his knees and begs you to come home. “Work’s good though?”

“Work’s,” you hesitate, searching for an answer, “everything I thought it would be.”

It’s not quite an answer. He notices now that you look exhausted, heavy shadows beneath your eyes.

“You’re working too hard.”

“Probably,” you huff a laugh.

“Take a day off.” Though he wants to say, ‘come home.’

“Mr. Seresin, are you encouraging poor work ethic?”

“I’m encouraging my favorite person to stop answering emails after eight o’clock.”

That earns him a genuine smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s the best you’re getting tonight.”

“I’ll take it.”

Swiveling in your chair to look out at the mountains, you sigh, “You ever seen them?”

“I’ve flown over them a couple times.”

“Going Mach 8 in a fighter jet doesn’t exactly give you time to take in the scenery.”

He chuckles. “True.”

“They’re beautiful,” you say quietly as if to yourself. “They’re just not home.”

He smiles. “Home isn’t going anywhere. And I’m coming to you in a couple weeks.”

You return the smile. “I know.”

“Go get some sleep,” he says, reluctantly.

“Copy that, Lieutenant,” you chuckle with a lazy salute.

He sits up straighter, uses his radio voice, “Hangman to Tower.”

You raise an eyebrow but play along. “Go ahead, Hangman.”

“Requesting permission to terminate communications.”

You smile sadly and take a moment to reply. “Permission granted.”

He salutes. “Sweet dreams, Colorado.”

“Only if you’re in them.”

“Flirt,” Jake teases. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A/N 2: I’m sure I’ll be exploring more of these 2 in the future so be sure to get on my tag list so you don’t miss it.

My tag lists are open. If you want to join please complete this form. You don’t need a google account to fill it in. Using the form makes it easier to track.

Alternatively follow my library blog @princessmisery666-library - I only post my fics.

Tags: @alexxavicry / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore

/ @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / 

@letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / 

@xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @atarmychick007 / @kmc1989 / @novagreen04