#becs-bunker

"Yesh, Winchester, quite a welcoming."

Dean lowered his gun with a small puff of relief, only to keep the baffled expression on his face. But a thin smile forged through. "What are you doing here? It's late, isn't your husband wondering where you are?" he sneered the word husband, always having had a strong distaste for the man.

"I left him," you began, grabbing the handles of your bags before dragging them along as you descended the stairs. "I'm moving in."

Dean let the information soak in a full second, before tripping over himself as he eagerly went to meet you on the stairs.

Startled by his sudden movements, you second-thought your decision. "If that's okay with you and Sam," you added, eyeing the eldest Winchester, wondering through your upset and tired haze that you'd become inconsiderate.

"No, yeah!" Dean mentally kicked himself over his response. "I just, uh, wanted to help with your bags," he offered, taking two off your arm, walking back down the stairs, mesmerized by your appearance at the bunker. "You're always welcome here. What happened, you, uh..." He stepped down the last step, staring up at you, unsure if he should ask what went wrong in your marriage.

You frowned, thinking about the fight with your husband; the lies, the tears. "He had another girl," you breathed out, having already dried yourself of tears during your trip over to the bunker.  

"Oh, Y/N," Dean began. "I am so sorry." Then the anger set in. "You want me to kick his ass?"

You smiled at Dean's offer. "Don't bother. I don't know where he went. Besides, I, um, already took care of it."

Dean offered a smile, imaging the hell you must've put him through as he began to led you through the bunker. "What'd you do, cut his dick off?"

"No, I came clean. Told him I was a hunter, well, showed him really. He had no idea what I'd hidden under our bed, in my car, the kitchen...And I told him that if I ever heard from him again, I'd treat him like the monster he truly is and gank him. He ran out of the apartment after that."

"Jesus, remind me never to piss you off." Dean led you down the hallway, traipsing to an open bedroom, which happened to be across from his. "Hey, nobody's used this room in a while, so it needs some sprucing, but I'll get you fresh sheets and other shit you may need-"

"It's perfect. Thank you, Dean." You dropped your bag, turning toward Dean to hug him.

Surprised, Dean accidentally bunked you with a bag, but it didn't deter you. You held on tight, unable to remember the last time you'd hugged your friend.

"Anytime."

"Hey," you heard Sam call. "who the hell are you hugging?"

Dean pulled away as you reluctantly dropped your arms, turning to have a front row seat to watch Sam's face light up at his realization.

"Y/N," Sam greeted, wrapping an arm around you. "What are you doing here? Have a case?"

"She's moving in," Dean said with a grin, ignoring the reason why.

"If that's alright," you added quickly, looking up at Sam. Sam nodded, hugging you again. You continued. "Well, I'm going to start getting settled. Thank you guys, so much." You turned and went inside the room, leaving the door open as you unzipped a bag, starting to sort your clothes.

Dean and Sam's eyes lingered on you. "What the hell happened?"

"Husband's a dick," Dean told, his voice low as not to upset you. "thinking of cutting his off."

Sam scoffed. "And the moment she comes running in here, you just happen to give her the room across from yours?" Sam hinted, speaking loud enough to allow you to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Dean shook his head. "She needs someone to keep an eye on her."

"Whatever you say, Romeo."

"Hey, Y/N," Dean called, ignoring his brother. "You want something to drink, take the edge off?"

"Anything would be great, thanks, Dean," you called back, sticking your head out the door.

Dean looked at him.

"Hey," Sam called after Dean, following behind. Dean slowed down slightly. "Don't let her marry anyone else this time."

Dean didn't respond, turning down the hall toward the Kitchen, leaving Sam behind.

"I brought the bottle." Dean, held up the scotch, entering your room a few moments later.

You smiled, watching Dean lift the bottle to one of the glasses in his opposing hand, and hand it off to you. Dean sat on the edge of your bed beside you, placing the bottle in the middle.

Taking a big gulp, the drink scratched the entire way down. "Ahh... just what I needed."

"I bet," Dean mumbled after he swallowed, looking down into his glass, swirling it as though to find something inside.

You did the same, glancing up momentarily to gaze at your friend in anything but a "friend" way. "So, how've you been?" You ask, breaking the silence.

"Fine. Saving people, hunting things," Dean's eyes glazed over with a promising thought. "You know, I killed Hitler."

You scoffed. "He's been dead."

Dean shook his head, "No, they put his soul into someone else's body. And let's just say, I shut that shit down."

"Wow, my hero," you teased. "Who's next, Mussolini? Stalin?"

"Nah, I've got my sights on a worse villain."

"Who?"

Dean didn't have to say anything for you to understand a second after. You smiled, unable to deny the appreciation the thought brought.

"He's a tool, but I'm not sure if he's worthy of Dean Winchester's wrath," you said, raising your glass to take another sip. The silence crept over your shoulders until you decided to speak. "I don't even know why I married him in the first place," you muttered into your drink, but Dean heard it perfectly clear. "To tell you the truth, I enjoy hunting with you guys more than playing housewife."

And you never did understand why you'd choose to marry a man when your heart never belonged to him.

"You're a fighter. You never needed him."

You nodded. "I just didn't want to be alone."

"You were never alone." You glance up at the sound of Dean's words. Your eyes bore into his green ones for a second before you glanced at Dean's lips, simultaneously leaning in toward the Winchester. But Dean with strained, leaning back, denying the kiss from proceeding.

Not knowing any better, you took his motion as a rejection. "I guess I'll never have you the way I need you."

"Y/N..." Dean began but found himself unable to express the meaning behind his withdrawal.

"You know what," you began, setting your drink on the nightstand and standing up. "I'm gonna go find a hunt."

Dean's head snapped up. "Now? It's late."

"So what?" It was a matter of fact as you rummaged through your duffle, picking out clothes that you wouldn't take. "It's not like you care."

But that wasn't the truth.

"Look, you shouldn't jump into anything. Relax for a couple of days, clear your-."

"Dean," your tone cut through his words, not allowing him to get to his main point, that he wanted to let you calm down before either of you made any advances toward the other. He wanted to make sure it was real, that he wasn't a quick rebound. "I just want to gank something; start a fight. I don't want to sit around thinking about how you don't like me that way, okay? I just want a distraction," you continued.

And like that, you were gone, taking whatever you'd previously packed in the single duffle bag along with you out of the bedroom.

"You dick," Dean whispered to himself, rubbing the brink of his nose, thinking of how he missed the perfect opportunity with you.

Dean knew your imidate snap had been his fault; his fear of allowing himself to be open to you. After all that he'd lost, he couldn't fear to lose you too by telling you how he truly felt. But now, he could lose you for a different reason.

Dean chased after you in the hall. Finding you not too far away. He didn't verbally call after you, but you stopped, staring at Dean, hurt etched in your eyes.

Dean let his actions speak for him as he grabbed your arm, pulling you into his kiss. And you didn't push him away.

It was intense. Dean kissed you long, and hard, as though making up for all the years he'd spent on the sidelines, watching you meet your future husband and then marry the man. After his actions had begun to make sense, you dissolved into the kiss, returning the gesture.

Dean maneuvered you against a bunker door, his hand dropping from your arm to land on your waist, exploring the curves he'd long to feel for years. As the other hand held your face, securing his place against your lips.

Someone cleared their throat awkwardly behind Dean. He didn't pull away but slowed his pace reluctantly. After another grunt from the mystery person, you were the one to pull away, with a small groan from Dean.

"Oh," you said, seeing Sam watching with an annoyed expression. "Is this-"

"My door that you decided to canoodle and contaminant against, yes it is." Sam finished, bitch face in full mode as he stared at both you and Dean.

"Sorry Sam," you apologized sheepishly, standing out of the way of the door.

Sam glanced at you and Dean again before disappearing into the room and slamming the door.

"Asshole," you hissed at Dean.

"But I'm your asshole," Dean cheekily smiled, leaning down for another kiss.

"Get a room!" Sam shouted from inside, producing laughter between you and Dean.