ST★RBOND

One of the staples of your childhood was food.

Food wasn’t just something to nourish the body. It was a tradition. Food meant family, it meant laughter, it meant playing with your cousins until the grass stains on your knees started to fade with the setting sun. To you, it meant normalcy and seeing everyone around the dinner table.

To Leon, food was just, food? Whatever the hell the standard definition of food is, really. Something you scarf down on your way out the door while you shove mismatched socks into untied boots. It never really meant anything to him traditionally. Granted, growing up, he never quite had anyone to share it with in a sentimental way.

Until he met you.

You were twenty, bright-eyed and eager. It was his first day at the DSO field office, and no one paid him any mind. These were the big leagues, no one cared what you survived, how you got there. Just that you did your job and had their six. But you… you walked up to him with a smile on your face and a covered glass dish. He was incredibly confused, and if he remembers correctly, he stared at you with a much more unapproachable look than he really meant to.

You introduced yourself, handing him the dish. “I’ve heard so much about you. I brought you pasta,” you shrugged, like this was just the bare minimum to you, “Just as a welcome to the division kind of thing. I hope you like pasta?”

He fucking loved pasta.

Through the whirlwind and uncertainties of your relationship with Leon, one thing was for sure;

When he came through the front door in the evenings, the first thing to hit him was the smell of something cooking.

Whether he was coming home from a day in the office with paperwork stacked on his desk so fucking high it was hard to believe he was even in there, or stumbling through the door after a bloody assignment, you were there. Really, he didn’t know how you did it. You were by no means a stay at home woman, matter of fact, you two worked on the same damn floor at headquarters. You chopped it up to being more efficient than him at your job, therefore getting out of there hours before he even so much as glanced at his stacks of reports, but he swore you could teleport.

Regardless of the method to your madness, your effort became one of the only constants in his life. Dinners you had freshly ready with his favorite ingredients after weeks away overseas, lunches you brought with you into the office for him in a Tupperware container with a sweet note and a kiss to the head, breakfasts that filled your homey kitchen in D.C. with the smell of bacon and the laughter of you and your daughter on Leon’s rare days off. Your cooking filled your house with family, friends, laughter, and great bottles of wine- a thing that he didn’t know he wanted or needed until you gave him that life. Your desire and excitement to keep him well-fed fell nothing short of a love language between the two of you, and as an added plus, it made him stay accountable in the gym!

But after some twenty-nine odd years of gatherings and dishes passed around the dining table, Leon’s favorite meals were the ones that were just the two of you.

You stood at the counter, leaned over on your elbows next to the stove, scrolling through one of those apps he couldn’t stand with all the dancing teenagers and jokes that made no sense  on your phone. He wandered into the kitchen, all wet hair and the smell of cedarwood. He was fresh off a short, standard assignment a few states away, but even just the singular week that he was forced to live off the shitty military rations in his go bag was far too much for a man as culinary spoiled as Leon Kennedy.

Leon came up behind you, his hips pressing against the plush of your ass as his hands planted on the counter on each side of you. He leaned over, looking over your shoulder to see what you were so indulged in. “Whatever you’ve got going on the stove-” his eyes flicked over curiously to the stovetop, “-smells fucking amazing.”

You hum in acknowledgement, pressing the power button on your phone and setting it aside. “It should be done soon… Hungry?” You turned around in his arms, pressing your back against the counter so you were facing him. He exhaled a laugh through his nose, his sturdy arms wrapping around your waist. “Incredibly. Those poor kids in the service are getting fed shit I wouldn’t give to a goddamn dog. Now, agency’s got the audacity to send me out there with their bag o’ slop and expect me to jump up and down in excitement and go do their bidding. Baby, they’re starving me.”

You rolled your eyes at your husband, who as he’s gotten older has only grown more nitpicky towards his job. “Oh, poor Mr-I-Just-Bought-A-Two-Hundred-Thousand-Dollar-Porsche has to eat canned food for a week like the rest of the government peasants instead of all that organic shit you buy from Whole Foods (if someone had told you twenty years ago that string of words would come out of your mouth in reference to Leon, you would’ve laughed so hard you pissed yourself). How ever will we recover? Should we call the United Nations? Maybe the ICC? Oh god, let me call the president!”

Leon tilted his head like a concerned dog, his steely blue eyes bearing into your own. “Yeah,” his voice dropped in a way that made your breath feel sharper as you inhaled. “Mrs-My-Husband-Also-Bought-Me-A-Two-Hundred-Thousand-Dollar-Porsche, maybe you should make sure they’re taking real good care of me because if I quit, guess who’s car is getting sold first so we have some extra money. Spoiler alert, it sure as hell ain’t mine.” He leaned farther into you, closing the tiny space between your two bodies. “It’s your fault I’m spoiled now.”

“You’re damn right, I’ve given you champagne taste when our lovely president seems to be on a beer budget.” You plant your hand against his broad chest, pushing him back just enough to scoot past him to the stove. His eyes follow you as you move past him, a smirk threatening the corner of his mouth and no doubt some kind of snide remark following it up.

“I know something that’s given me champagne taste,” he said snarkily, his eyes slowly combing down your body. “Corny. Not your best work,” you shot back, thoroughly unamused at his poor attempt at… whatever you call that. “Go sit down, Romeo, I’ll make you a plate.”

Leon sauntered up behind you, his large hand splaying across your abdomen. You felt his head dip down and he began pressing soft kisses against the column of your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin there. You drew in a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut and your head falling back against his shoulder. “Don’t get distracted now, I thought dinner was of the utmost importance.” His voice was gruff against your skin, suddenly giving you brain fog about what you were doing as if the only thing to exist was the sound of his voice in that moment. “Mhm,” you hummed, still making no moves to resume your efforts of plating dinner. He planted a final kiss to your neck and straightened up before retiring to the less official breakfast table just off the kitchen.

You plate the food to your liking, making sure it’s presentable enough for a Master Chef competition before bringing it to Leon (who’s going to inhale it before noticing your masterful plating techniques). As soon as you enter, he puts his phone down and his eyes track you across the table, a small smile gracing his weathered, tough features. You gently place his plate down in front of him and press a kiss to the top of his head, the smell of his expensive shampoo grounding you and reminding you he’s alive. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, reaching across to grab your hand and brushing a kiss over your knuckles. “I love you.”

You barely get the chance to get your reciprocated “I love you,” out before he’s eating like he’s never been fed a day in his life.

Fuck, it kind of makes you a little nauseous sometimes, but at least he was eating.

“P-Promise me you’ll come back, okay?” Dean said, hugging you as if he’d never see you again.

“Of course, Dean,” you replied, squeezing him right back. You were leaving for college, hoping to be done with hunting.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” he told you.

“I love you so much, too, Dean,” you said. “And I’ll call you all the time, okay? I’ll call you so much you’ll be sick of my voice by the time we see each other again.”

“Not fuckin’ possible,” he countered.

The bus pulled up to the stop and you let go of Dean; “This is where I get on.”

“Stay safe,” he said and kissed your forehead before watching you board the bus. You waved at him through the window and he waved back, not letting himself admit how much this was going to hurt him.

**

Three days. It had been three whole days and you hadn’t called him yet. Something must be wrong.

He decided to give you a call, but you didn’t pick up.

“Hey, you’ve reached Y/n, sorry I can’t make it to the phone right now, I’m probably being a badass and hunting monsters. Leave a message at the beep. Or don’t, it’s up to you.”

“Hey hun, it’s Dean… but I guess you know that. Uhm, it’s been a few days since hearing from you, just let me know you’re okay,” he said. 

He waited another day before he tried calling you again.

“Hey, you’ve reached Y/n, sorry I can’t make it to the phone right now, I’m probably being a badass and hunting monsters. Leave a message at the beep. Or don’t, it’s up to you.”

“Sweetheart, call me back please,” he said. “I’m gettin’ worried here and I need to know you’re okay. If you’re ghosting me on purpose please let me know and I’ll stop calling. I just… I need to know you got to Boston safely.”

**

It had been nearly a week since he had seen you when he finally got the call.

“Y/n?” he answered his phone on the first ring.

“Hey, Dean,” you replied. “I’m so sorry for not calling you earlier; my phone charger broke on the bus ride, then the outlets in my dorm weren’t working, then–”

“I get it,” he stopped your ranting. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay, Dean,” you admitted

“What? What’s wrong? Did something follow you to MIT?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “I just meant that I’m not okay because I miss you so much.”

“You shoulda specified that way quicker, sweetheart!” he exclaimed.

“Sorry,” you said. 

He paused, running a hand down his face as he took a deep breath; “I miss you too,” he said. “Like… a lot.”

“If you wanna come visit me sometime that’d be cool,” you suggested. 

“Really? You’d be okay with that? I wouldn’t like… embarrass you in front of all your new friends?”

“Honestly I kinda wanna show you off, you’re like stupid hot, remember?”

He laughed; “Well, I guess I need to find a case close to you so I have an excuse for dropping in.”

“Sounds perfect, handsome,” you replied. “Though, for the record, you don’t need an excuse for visiting me, Dean, you’re always welcome to stop by.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiled. 

Though his heart clenched, this seemed all too familiar to him. During Sam’s first few months at Stanford, he would make time to fill Dean in on his life—the classes he was taking, gossip that Dean was all too interested in, even what he’d eaten for lunch that day. But that eventually stopped when Sam started making more and more friends of his own, getting himself a whole new world to live in and leaving Dean out in the cold.

He didn’t want the same thing to happen to you, you weren’t just his girlfriend you were his best friend. He loved talking with you for hours on end while you sat in the passenger seat of his beloved car. He loved how you’d turn the radio up when you liked a song, how you’d gaze out the window when Mother Nature was looking particularly lovely, or how you would put your head on his shoulder when you got tired. 

He loved you so completely that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Even the thought of you not being right next to him at that moment made his heart hurt; hearing your voice wasn’t enough, he wanted to hold you. 

Sam still called his older brother once in a while, just to be sure Dean was okay. But they both knew it was more of a formality at this point. Dean knew Sam was just checking in to know whether he was alive or not.

“Damn it, I gotta go,” you told Dean.

“Already?” He tried to mask his utter disappointment, but you still heard the heartbreak in his voice.

“I’m so, so sorry, hun, I just realized I have this event I have to get to,” you said. He furrowed his brows, listening to the sound of you hurrying to get your things together. 

“An event, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s for this math class I’m in,” you said. “I’m really sorry Dean, I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you so much, Dean.”

“I love you too, buh-bye.”

“Bye.”

**

When you got back from the “math class event” your phone was dead again. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you groaned when it wouldn’t charge and made a mental note to buy a new one before the end of the week.

All you wanted was to call Dean, to hear his voice, but at this moment it seemed hopeless. You figured he probably wasn’t staying up waiting for you to call, so you decided to continue with your new nightly routine of showering, brushing your teeth, watching something fun and not monster-related on your new laptop, and hitting the sack.

As you worked through each step of your routine, Dean sat up in his motel bed many miles away, waiting for your call.

He decided to call you and, again, all he got was your fucking voicemail box.

**

The next day you went out and bought a phone. The first thing you did was put in all of Dean’s numbers. The second thing you did was call him.

“You’ve reached Dean, you know the drill.”

“Hey Dean, it’s Y/n. My other phone is officially broken so that’s why I couldn’t call you last night, I hope I didn’t worry you. Please call me when you get a chance; my first class isn’t until noon today so that gives you about three hours. My last class ends at five but I have another event so I might not be able to talk much later. I love you so much and I miss your voice, so if you get my voicemail just… leave a cute message or something I dunno. I love you, Dean. Bye.”

**

“Hey, you’ve reached Y/n! Leave a message at the beep.” Your new outgoing message made Dean sigh. 

“Hey, gorgeous, I saw you called on this new number, sad I missed you but I guess that’s what I get for sleepin’ in,” he laughed humorlessly. “You wanted me to leave a cute message and I gotta be honest… not sure what that means. I love you though, and I miss you like crazy. Hope you’re not having too much fun over there… joining a sorority… partying with the football team…” He caught himself rambling; “I-I’m sorry. I love you, call me when you can.”

**

“This is Dean’s other other cell, you know what to do.”

“This is the last number you’ve got, honey, where are you?” you said. “We keep missing each other, how fuckin’ stupid is that? I wanna tell you about one of my professors, he’s very anti-paranormal and it’s hilarious. I’m all set up in my room, I’ve got my landline plugged in and your picture by my bed. My roommate is pretty cool, she has a record player and put up a Kurt Cobain poster today, I think you two would get along. Who knows maybe this living on campus thing won’t be so bad after all. Although, testing to see if she’s a monster was not a great ice breaker and spilling holy water on someone is not forgiven lightly. Tests all went well though, she’s human. I hope Sammy’s doing the same stuff over at Stanford and that he hasn’t forgotten his ‘hunting roots’. Well…” you sighed, “I miss you Dean, and I’ve gotta be honest it’s not that fun over here. Yet, anyway; I know you were joking but I am trying to get into a sorority. Please call me when you get this. Bye.”

**

“Dean?” you answered the call.

“Oh my god, it’s really you!” Dean exclaimed, making you laugh. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“I miss you!” you whined. “And I haven’t made a single friend! Unless you count my roommate, but she’s basically stuck with me, so.”

“It’ll get better,” Dean assured you. “Sammy had trouble too the first few weeks; just give yourself some time and before you know it you’ll be the most popular girl in school.”

“Oh god, I hope not!” you laughed. “What I want is to find some common ground to stand on with these people but I have no idea how to socialize with someone and not bring up monsters.”

“Sammy had some trouble with that too, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But again, give it time. You’ll get used to the college life sooner or later.”

“One thing I won’t get used to is not seeing you every night,” you said. A small smile formed on his lips at the thought of you still missing him. “I feel homesick without you.”

“Really? You miss me that much?”

“...Yeah? Is that silly?” you hesitated to ask. 

“No! No, I miss you like crazy, too.” He cleared his throat a little; “I um, I’m actually about half a day’s drive from you. Do you have time to grab some coffee tomorrow morning?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, a little too loudly and he instinctively pulled the phone from his ear for a second. “I mean… yeah, sure it’s like… whatever.”

He laughed; “You’ve already shown your cards, sweetheart and you’re clearly excited to see me.”

“Whatever,” you continued to tease. “I know you’re excited to see me, too.”

“That I am sweetheart,” he sighed. “I’m gonna see you and hug you and kiss you and… fuck you.”

“Strong words comin’ from a guy who’s still half a day’s drive away!” you mocked. 

“Oh I’m closer than you think, sweetheart.”

A loud knock hit your door.

“Hold on Dean, someone’s at the door,” you told him.

“That’s alright, I’ll hold. Just don’t hang up,” he said.

“Of course not!” you all but scoffed. “I’m sure it’s just a package or one of Katy’s friends, she seems to know a lot of people.”

“Katy?”

“Oh my roommate, did I not tell you her name?”

The door to your place didn’t have a peephole so you took your chances with opening the door.

You were met with none other than Dean Winchester himself, standing there with a huge grin; “I’m here to see Katy.” 

“My god am I glad to see you,” you mumbled. The phone slipped from your hand, hitting the floor and probably breaking. You didn’t give two shits about the phone, but you gave a lot more than two shits for the man you wrapped up in a tight hug. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his wrapped around your torso.

“Hey babe,” he mumbled against your cheek as he kissed you there. “Missed you.”

“How dare you make me think I wouldn’t see you till tomorrow,” you replied. 

“Are you gonna let me in or—”

You cut him off by kissing his plush lips deeply, yours curving into a smile at the familiar touch. You both stumbled through the door, neither wanting the kiss to end, and Dean kicked the door closed, locking it once again.

“Can’t believe it’s only been a couple of weeks since I’ve seen you,” he laughed humorlessly.

“Too long.”

He nudged you onto the bed and you fell backward onto your mattress. He shrugged off his jacket and flannel as you swiftly took your sweatpants off. You took your shirt off next as he rid himself of his as well. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, taking in the beautiful site of you in a bra and panties. He didn’t have enough patience to get his pants off and couldn’t help joining you on the bed, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He trailed his lips down your neck and rested his forehead on your chest; “Wowza, I missed these, how’ve you two been?”

“Dean–”

“Excuse me,” he stopped you, briefly looking into your eyes from where he was hovering over your breasts, “if you don’t mind, we’re trying to have a conversation, here!”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his ridiculous behavior.

“Now where were we…” He looked back down at your boobs before he began kissing every visible inch of them, leaving marks that you were sure would last for days.

**

About twenty-five minutes and three earth-shattering highs later, Dean rolled off (and out) of you before resting his head on the pillow next to you. 

“Dean, I’ve been thinking…” you started, flipping to your side so you could look him in the eyes.

“Wonders never cease!” he teased, earning a playful slap to his left arm with your right hand.

“Should I bother with this whole college thing? It’s not too late to drop out and go back to hunting.”

“What? Why would you wanna do that? I thought MIT was your dream?”

“It was until…”

“Until what, babe?” He looked back at you, thoroughly confused as he put his left hand on your right cheek.

“Until I realized how much I hate sleeping without you,” you whispered, causing him to smile sadly. “I miss you all the time, Dean.”

“I know the feeling,” he mumbled. 

“And we’ve only been apart two weeks! That’s nothing! What’s gonna happen when we have to go two months without seeing each other? How—“

He cut you off with a swift kiss; “We'll figure it out, I promise. Besides, it was just extra hard this time because we couldn’t talk over the phone; once we get a bit of a schedule going, it’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

“But… what if we can’t handle this long-distance thing?” you wondered. “What if things change between us because I’m at this stupid college?”

Dean sighed before he pulled you closer and onto his chest; “It’s not stupid. I know you don’t wanna be a hunter for the rest of your life and this place is your ticket out! It might even be a ticket out for me too, if you think about it.”

“How’s that?”

“Well… fast forward five or ten years; we’re still together, maybe we’re married, and you’re making bank because you’re a genius, so I can afford to be a stay-at-home trophy husband who hunts sometimes if he wants.”

“Sounds perfect to me. As long as you exclusively wear gray sweats and unbuttoned flannels when you lounge around the house, then I’ll spoil you with all my riches,” you teased.

“Think I could manage that,” he laughed lightly.

Picturing a future like that with Dean truly did sound perfect and the idea that he had dreams about that kinda thing made your smile deepen.

“These years are gonna fly past us and before you know it we’ll be able to settle down like that,” Dean said. “So you keep doing your nerd thing and I’ll keep doing my badass thing, okay?”

“Mkay,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“As much as I wanna stay tangled up like this, we should get dressed in case my roommate comes back soon.” 

He sighed dramatically as you sat up, quickly kissing his lips before you put your shirt back on. 

Timing truly was on your side, because the second you were both presentable your roommate knocked on the door.

“Hey, I forgot my key, could you please open up?” she called from the other side.

You did as she asked and her eyes widened when she saw Dean.

“Katy, this is my boyfriend; Dean, this is my roommate, Katy,” you introduced them.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Dean,” she said.

“Likewise,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Nice record player you’ve got there.”

**

You’d been at university for nearly six months and had truly gotten used to the life. Your grades were phenomenal and you managed to make quite a few friends.

The one thing that didn’t sit right with you was your relationship with Dean. You both knew it was on the back burner as of right now.

It broke your heart, thinking of Dean all alone out there with his dad. You knew he needed you, you hated not seeing him all the time and you hated how far you two had drifted.

You actually weren’t sure why he hadn’t just called things off with you, you only called him once a week.

But every message he left was still nothing but ‘I love you’s and ‘I miss you’s, which warmed your heart. 

Your alarm went off and it pulled you out of your thoughts; it was time for your weekly catch-up with Dean.

“This is Dean, leave your name, number, and nightmare at the beep.”

Of course, you only got his voicemail box.

**

Dean watched his phone ring, watched your name flash on the screen.

“Don’t answer that,” John said.

“I can’t just…”

“You have to! She and Sammy are no longer hunters Dean,” John exclaimed. “They both chose to leave the life, leave us.”

“But she’s didn’t leave me, Dad.” Dean watched as his cell sent you to voicemail. “I still see a future with her, a life; kids, barbeques, mini-vans–”

“You can’t talk like that,” John snapped at him. “You can’t have that life, Dean.”

“But, maybe–”

“No! You are a hunter through and through,” he said. “And when Y/n went off to college, she killed any future you two had together because she chose to quit hunting! Don’t you get that?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Dean sighed. 

“I am.”

**