⋆˙⟡ white feather hawk tail deer hunter — dean winchester
dean winchester x bobby's "daughter"!reader (9k words) summary: when the winchesters show up on your door looking for help on a hunt, you are excited to finally meet the two boys bobby loves so much. however, things take a turn when dean lights a fire inside of you that hot summer night. notes: 18+ mdni, angst, smut, sex in the impala, no foreplay without loreplay, found family, little age gap (dean is like 27/28 you are like 21/22) but the vibe is there, use of "kid," patching him up after a hunt, some insecurity, reader has something to prove, dean is hesitant, secretive.
Growing up, you had always been afraid of the dark. Of course, that’s a normal fear for a kid, but what wasn’t normal was your terror. No reassurances ever shook off that gripping fear, even your practical mother’s explanation that a fear of the dark wasn’t anything more than the fear of the unknown. She would try to convince you there were no monsters, ghosts, serial killers, clowns, or whatever your mind conjured up stalking in the blackness. Now, you look back at that time with a dark vindication. It was the dark that devoured your family whole in one gulp.
It started like all hauntings do. Cold spots in the house, noises in the attic that your dad promised were rats, lights flickering. Then like always, things escalated. One particular night, the china cabinet fell over. Another, you swore you saw something in the mirror behind you. Finally, the poltergeist claimed its victims.
It was a perfect summer night, you remember it so clearly. The AC wasn’t working that night, so you took refuge amongst the fireflies as your parents watched TV on the couch. The cool summer air refreshed you completely from the sweltering heat of the house, and it felt good to be out of that horrifying house. Your parents swore that nothing was wrong, that what you had seen in the mirror was only a figment of your imagination. You wanted to believe them so desperately, but you couldn’t. Now, the darkness that grew outside as the sun set over the trees of Sioux Falls was more comforting than the darkness in the hallway. You refused to go inside, instead opting to catch a firefly in a mason jar your dad had nailed some holes in.
“Bugs gotta breathe too, you know.” That had made you laugh so hard, you nearly forgot how scared you were.
A large firefly flew right past your face and you decided that would be your new pet. With little regard for where you were running, you followed the firefly with your jar away from the house, far enough that you didn’t hear the screaming. It took some time, but you finally caught it and proudly turned to go home. Maybe this was what would protect you, the small bioluminescent creature would give you enough light to chase your fears away. When you ran into the house, you shouted for your parents.
“Mom! Dad! Look what I caught in my jar!” You rounded the corner to the living room when you saw them. The bodies of your parents were hanging from the ceiling, long slits down their bellies allowing their entrails to hang to the floor. The jar slipped from your hands as a scream tore from your chest. That was the last time you ever questioned what was in the dark. From then on, you knew.
Bobby Singer arrived at the police station the next day, the first person who listened to what you pleaded for the police to believe. Within three days, the poltergeist that killed your family was gone. It only took half a week for your life to change. Whatever innocence you had was gone, replaced with a burning fury. It was strong, fed by the knowledge that you had been right all along. If someone had listened to you sooner, none of this would have ever happened. That’s what led to Bobby taking you in, despite much grumbling and debate. You were 13 years old then and had no other family. Nobody wanted to take in a difficult pre-teen with dead parents, especially one that raved about poltergeists. More so, Bobby felt like he was the only one who could channel your anger into something productive.
Thankfully, he didn’t have the same approach as John Winchester. He wanted to give you a chance to have a real life. He kept you enrolled in school and when you got home everyday, he taught you how to defend against spirits, not hunt them. Hunters came through the doors of your home all the time. That, or they were ringing one of his many phones off the hook. You understood early on that you were only one of the many disciples of Bobby’s teachings, he knew everything there was to know about the things that terrified you in the night. That fear slipped away day by day living with Bobby, but it never went away fully. Instead, it transformed itself into a protective shield, it sharpened your instincts and fed your rage. Every time Bobby would consult a hunter or would go on a hunt himself, you would plead with him to let you help him. You knew what was out there, and you knew how to stop other people from suffering like you had. Most of all, you held on to the belief that if you slayed enough monsters, you would be clean again, strong again. It wasn’t a belief you acknowledged often, but it was one that Bobby was very aware of. That’s why he kept you away, and you hated him for it. That was, until you grew up.
By the time you had graduated high school, you started to understand Bobby, even being thankful for the way he protected you from a life doomed to hunting. With a lot of patience and time, Bobby understood you too. He understood the anger inside of you. If nobody had listened to you back then, he would make sure they listened to you now. Instead of going off to college or work like the kids you graduated with, you became a representative for “Bobby’s 24/7 Monster Hunting Hotline” as you liked to call it. He liked it this way— it kept you out of the fray but still allowed you to be a part of the fight. You grew to love it too, and it helped that you were damn good at it. That’s why when the phone rang that morning, he let you take it while he was busy doing his monthly sigil redrawing and salt lining.
It was his personal cell, which meant it was someone close to him. When you picked it up, the Caller ID made you stir. “Dean Winchester,” it read. That couldn’t be good, nothing with him ever was. Not that you had ever met him, but Bobby would tell you things. He was a womanizer, a drinker, and a somewhat reckless hunter. There had been times where Sam and Dean had been dumped at Bobby’s front step for days at a time with no explanation. That stopped before you had come to live with Bobby, but you knew that he felt incredibly protective of those boys. For years they had no contact, but their relationship rekindled once Sam rejoined the hunt because of their dad’s disappearance. When you finally answered, you hit the speaker button just in case Bobby wanted to take over.
“Hello, how can I help you?” You spoke plainly, a little bit of anxiety rumbling inside of you. You had never spoken to one of the Winchesters, but you knew it was inevitable. The voice on the other line came out panicked and confused, much to your surprise.
“Who the hell is this? Where’s Bobby?” Dean barked through the phone. By now, most everyone in Bobby’s inner circle and surrounding knew about you. How had Sam and Dean of all people been unaware?
“Calm down, I’m… Bobby’s… assistant. Whatever you need I can help with, he is a little busy right now,” you attempted to reassure. However, your efforts were in vain.
“Last I checked Bobby doesn’t have an assistant. Put him on the line or I’ll come over there and blast your ass.” Before you could respond, Bobby was beside you.
“Jackass, she’s mine alright. Put some respect in your tone, boy.” That shut him up. For a moment, at least.
“Bobby, I’m sorry, but since when did you have an assistant, and why didn’t you tell me?”
“A while now Dean, and you know why. You’re trouble.” Bobby’s tone got more gruff as he began to walk away with the phone. He couldn’t keep you away though, you were trailing close behind.
“So, she’s hot?” Dean’s voice came through quieter on the phone as if he had pulled it away to his face, possibly intending only for Sam to hear it. Your face grew hot. You hadn’t seen what Dean looked like as a man, only in the pictures of him as a kid, but his voice definitely made something rumble inside of you.
“Winchester! Why the hell did you call me?” He was truly irritated now.
“Shit Bobby, didn’t mean for you to hear that, that’s on me. Well, we’ve got a case and we were hoping we could stop by yours for a hot meal and some answers.” Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose as a deep sigh escaped his lips.
“Alright, how far out are you? We will stay up for ya.” As he spoke, he gave you an apologetic smile. It was already 11 P.M., but you two were night owls. You simply chuckled back, unphased by the offer. You were already half way in the kitchen, starting preparations for this “hot meal.” Even if you were nervous to meet the Winchesters, you enjoyed the company of hunters. They were rowdy and untrusting, sure, but you lived in the same world. You couldn’t say that about many people. There was also a part of you that got a lot of joy from taking care of people; patching up their wounds, feeding them, giving them a slice of normalcy. With everything you’ve heard about the Winchesters, you can’t help but wonder when the last time they felt that was, if ever. Eventually, Dean’s voice snaps you back to reality. He hisses lightly, and you can hear the voice you presume to be Sam grumbling in the background.
“Ahh.. we are about an hour out. Sorry for the short notice, Bobby. See ya soon.” Dean quickly ends the call, leaving Bobby shouting his name into the dead line. He turned to you, a soft smile breaking through his grimace.
“This’ll be the first time we are all under one roof, isn’t it? Just don’t get all soft on me now,” you joked. You knew it wasn’t all jokes though, you both felt the weight of tonight. Bobby didn’t bring up his feelings about you very often, he didn’t ever want to seem like he was trying to replace your parents. The two of you never called yourself father and daughter, but that didn’t change that he had picked up where your father had tragically left off. You were lucky to have three people you could call your parents, even if two of them were long gone.
After a beat, Bobby put the phone down with a half-annoyed, half-amused chuckle.
“Shut up, you idiot.”
You were still working at the stove when the Winchesters had arrived. Embarrassingly, you had freshened up a bit. Your hair was still done from when you had styled it the day before, but you didn’t hesitate to put on some mascara and something other than sweatpants. It wasn’t like you were trying to seduce anyone, but you couldn’t deny that something in you told you to look good tonight. As quickly as those thoughts rose up, you pushed them down. I just want to look nice for company. It’s proper.
The sound of three firm knocks snapped you out of your thoughts. You yelled out to Bobby that they were there, letting him answer it. When he did, you let them reunite for a moment before peeking your head around the corner. There stood two tall men who could only be Sam and Dean. They looked so much like their childhood pictures, but you couldn’t have possibly imagined they would look this good. Your eyes quickly flicked between the two, settling on the one in front. When he spoke, you instantly recognized it was Dean. A worn leather jacket hung loosely from his strong frame, his sharp features adding to his rugged look. As soon as you finished your look up-and-down, you met his eyes. He had already caught you staring, it was too late. A shit-eating grin captured his lips as his eyes quickly flicked over you. You were already trapped in his web.
Bobby turned to face you now, obviously following Dean’s line of sight. As he turned back to the boys, you heard him whisper something. Sam’s face was unchanged, but Dean’s smug expression quickly dropped. Finally, Bobby led them both into the kitchen. He told them your name before fully introducing you.
“This is Sam and Dean, the other two pains in my ass.” Sam kindly reached out a hand and you shook it firmly. Dean followed suit, but instead of shaking it, he just squeezed it softly. You felt the calluses of his palm pressed into your smooth hands, the length of his fingers engulfing yours.
“Nice to finally meet you— and learn you exist,” he cracked. You let out a little laugh.
“I’ve known about you two for quite some time, I was waiting for the day you would stumble through the door.” They both smiled at you, but of course Dean took the opportunity to keep the line coming.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, kid.” A flash of pink warmth spread on your cheeks, obvious to Bobby. Sam tried to take over the situation and explain what was going on to Bobby. Before he could, he was cut off.
“Not yet son, let’s sit down and eat something. I’ve got beers in the fridge, if you can get those too?” The last part was aimed at you, and you gladly nodded. The three of them sat at the table and you made four plates with an equal number of beets, setting them all down on the table. You saw the boys give each other a look, but you shut them up before they could comment.
“I am just as much a part of this team as Bobby is.” You sat beside Bobby while Dean cracked open his beer and took a long sip. The four of you dug in, taking a moment to enjoy each other’s company before they had to return to their hellish reality. They each complimented you on the meal and devoured it as quickly as they had sat down. When each plate was clean, Dean started stacking them all. You stood and tried to take them from his hands, but he wagged a finger at you with a tssk.
“Sweetheart, you can’t cook the meal and wash the dishes. Didn’t you teach her that, Bobby?” Your chest fluttered, betraying the conscious part of your mind that reminded you he was a total womanizer. He probably has pet names for every woman from California to Maine. That didn’t change the fact that when he said it to you, you got lightheaded. Bobby puffed out his cheeks, visibly biting his tongue. Sam shot him an apologetic look, a moment that explained everything about their sibling dynamic you could’ve ever wondered.
After a few minutes, Dean returned with four more beers. You cracked yours, preparing for whatever story the brothers had prepared. Sam took the lead, explaining that in a town two hours out from Sioux Falls, there have been reports of people coming back from being missing and presumed dead and eating their families.
“Well, that just sounds like a zombie,” Bobby said after a breath.
“But that’s the thing, it’s being selective with its targets. Plus, the families are gladly letting them back in. Would you open the door for someone who was deteriorating in front of your eyes like that? So, they’ve gotta look okay enough to look alive. After they feed, they disappear.” You took in Sam’s words, leaning back in your dining chair. Bobby rubbed his beard, a pensive expression pinching his face in. After a moment, something struck you.
“I mean, it could be a ghoul, that would explain the disappearances after the fact, and the not-dead appearances. But why would it ever leave the graveyard?” When you said that, Sam’s eyes lit up. From beside him, Dean’s previously concerned face softened into an impressed smirk. His eyes flicked up at yours, sending deep shivers down your spine.
“Dean, the flood!” You and Bobby exchanged a look, waiting for one of them to fill in the final puzzle piece.
“Shit, you’re right. All the bodies got washed up about a month ago, now they’ve gotta feed on the living. They probably hadn’t had a good body-burger in weeks, that’s why they’ve gotta be stealthy. Weak pieces of shit,” Dean spat. With that, he downed the rest of his beer and got up from the dinner table.
“C’mon Sammy, take a leak then we are out of here.” Bobby stood as well, his hands raising in protest.
“Slow down boy, it’s late, don’t you want to get some sleep?” You eyed him, somewhat surprised at his insistence. He really was protective over those two.
“Bobby, if we don’t go now, someone might be in danger. I’m really sorry,” Sam explained. He was right, of course, but that didn’t change anything. Quietly, invisibly, you put a comforting hand on Bobby’s back. Despite your subtlety, Dean saw it. Before he could stop himself, his lips were moving.
“I promise, we will be back as soon as this is over. You have my word.” Usually, Bobby would have no reason to believe Dean’s promises. Sam gave him an uneasy look, but it quickly shifted once he saw how serious his brother looked.
“Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep,” Bobby replied. He wanted to believe him so badly, but he knew how things got with this life. Priorities get scrambled, promises get broken.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” His convicted gaze flicked between the two of you, lingering on you as long as they could. With that, the Winchester brothers whisked out the door and hit the road. Before he closed the cool black door of the Impala, you swore he shot you a wink. You both watched them roll down the road from the front stoop, but after Bobby went back inside you lingered just a moment longer. When you finally went inside, you made your way straight up to your room, holding Dean’s promise close to your heart.
Two long days passed, each second boiling you alive. You couldn’t deny the heat you felt, the magnetism of Dean’s presence. Bobby kept you busy, delegating tasks to you while he read up on another hunter’s case that required his undivided attention. Between impersonating government officials and various other authoritative figures over the phone and reading up with Bobby, you didn’t have a lot of time to think about Dean. Yet, he weasled his way into your mind as much as he could. You could have sworn you heard that triple knock on the front door one hundred times, so much so that you didn’t believe it when it actually happened.
Quickly, you rushed to the door. Before opening you took a breath, realizing how eager you looked. After your pause, you opened the door, revealing two beat up Winchesters.
“Shit guys, come in here!” You backed up, making space for them to stumble in. Sam looked mostly fine, a couple of bruises and cuts. It was Dean you were worried about. He leaned against Sam’s frame, his free hand pressed tightly against his stomach. When Bobby saw him, he immediately got to work clearing off the dinner table. His voice boomed from the room over, interrogating the both of them.
“Dean, what the hell happened? Why didn’t you go to the damn hospital?” Bitterly, Dean let out a laugh.
“Just so happens the best doctor I know is only two hours away, and I promised him and the cute nurse I’d swing by when the job was done. Plus, it's free” He took advantage of the situation to slip in the flirtation, and you let it slide. There were much more important things at hand. You and Sam laid him out on the table and without a second thought, you peeled back his t-shirt.
“Go get me my med-bag. Sam, I need you out of here.” Sam moved to protest, but you cut him off.
“I’m really sorry, I can’t work if everyone’s watching me. I promise, I will take care of him.” Sam relented wordlessly, shooting Dean one last worried look. Bobby dropped off your supplies and went to the living room with the younger Winchester. When it was just the two of you, you pressed a stressed palm to your forehead before getting to work.
“What the hell happened out there, Dean?” Your voice came out more concerned than you’d like, but there was no point in disguising your worry. Afterall, he was one of Bobby’s too, right?
“You should see the other guy,” he breathed out, his voice heavy with suppressed pain. You shook your head as you poured whiskey onto a rag, giving him a belt to bite into.
“Open up,” you commanded, once again opening the door for him.
“Yes, ma’am.” You put the belt between his lips. Admittedly, he could’ve done it himself, but who said you can’t have your fun as well? A pained chuckle crept through the leather and settled low in your stomach. That went away as soon as you pressed the alcohol-soaked rag to his stomach, pouring some extra on top to additionally clean the gash. The sounds that came from him filled you with a mix of concern and something else you didn’t dare to acknowledge. He would survive, it wasn’t like this was life or death, but you knew you shouldn’t be thinking that right now. As you went to pull your hand away, his own covered yours again, pressing down onto the wound. He pulled the belt from his mouth, grimacing instead of gritting his teeth.
“I can take it, don’t gotta take it easy on me kid. I can take it,” he repeated, almost like a mantra to himself. You couldn’t help yourself from asking.
“Stop calling me that, Dean.” Using his name felt like it created some distance between the two of you. However, it did the opposite. His hand left yours and ran up your arm, wrapping his long fingers around your elbow.
“What, you want something more grown up? Sugar? Sexy? What is it?” He picked his head up slightly to watch your reaction before letting it fall back to the table with a smile as you completely faltered. You opted out of answering his question, instead pulling your arm away to get your curved needle and dental floss. When you spoke again, your voice was instructive and as unbothered as you could manage.
“This isn’t too bad. It isn’t going to heal overnight, much less this week, but not too bad. What even happened?” You successfully redirected his attention, or at least you hoped so.
“First, you were right about the ghouls… and you know how they can tunnel?” You nodded with a soft hum.
“Well, they decided to tunnel right through me instead of the ground. Honest mistake, really.” There it was again, that glib affectation. You rolled your eyes, readying yourself to make the first stitch. Internally, you felt some satisfaction about your ghoul hypothesis being proven.
“Alright Winchester, I’m gonna need you to keep quiet down there.” Ignoring your demands, he spoke.
“So now I’m just ‘Winchester?’ Ouch, kid.” He punctuated the ridiculous nickname this time, earning the pierce of your needle into his wound.
“I said, keep it down,” your voice threatening to betray you as you tried to establish some even ground. You denied him the pleasure of a reaction and a response, which was the best you could do. Yet, he ignored you once again.
“Feisty, I like that.” You continued in silence, and finally he stopped badgering you. When the sutures were finished, you made him rest elevated by his elbows so you could wrap him in gauze. As you did so, you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes raked across his strong build, your fingers making minimal but impactful contact with his bare skin. His heat radiated from him, pulling you impossibly in, but you fought the urges with every ounce of your strength. He watched you, quietly admiring the way you admired him, the amount of restraint you were showing. Dean was no stranger to being desired, especially when there was a forbidden aspect involved. This was different though, it held stakes both ways. Both of you owed it to Bobby to not let that desire manifest, but that’s exactly what enticed him so much. That, and everything else about you. He watched the way you bit your lip as you worked with laser focus, the way you quietly tended to Bobby, the pride you took in being right the other night, all of it made him want to peek inside and see who you were. His thoughts were interrupted when your hands finally withdrew, your heat still ghosting against his stomach.
“All done. I know you probably won’t listen, but you two really shouldn’t leave tonight. Stay, even if it’s just until tomorrow.” And for once, Dean let himself be selfish.
“Okay, okay, we’ll stay.” His voice was more serious than you had heard it yet. That didn’t mean a lot, you had only known each other for two days, but you knew enough to know that probably didn’t happen often.
After you had finished your repairs, the three men sat in the living room drinking beers and talking about the hunt. Now that the job was done, they had a proper chance to spend some time together. You chose to retreat to your room, both disappointed that you couldn’t spend some time with the two brothers who you knew Bobby valued so deeply and wisely wanting to stay as far away from Dean as you could. Of course, that wasn’t what you really wanted, but you knew it was for the best. He was playing games, games you had no interest in. You knew well enough that you would only get burned. He would hop in that Impala and leave you in the dust. Your heart was not something you wanted to play with or put at risk, especially with someone Bobby cared so deeply for. Who knew what kind of wedge that could’ve driven between you two?
That fear was proven to not be as convicting as you thought it was when you heard three soft knocks on your door late that night. You were in your bed, nose buried in your book when the sound snapped you out of your daze. The noise downstairs had died less than an hour ago, so you assumed it was Bobby coming to say goodnight. Rolling out of bed, you made your way to the door, a sleepy smile making its way to your face. To your surprise, there stood Dean, that signature smile on his lips.
“Dean, hey, what’s… up?” A part of you wondered if there was something wrong with his stitches, the other part knew he was likely here for no good reason. His arm reached up to support himself on your doorframe and you instinctively took a step back. No amount of distance could stop the heat of his presence from filling your veins.
“Hope you weren’t sleeping or I’ll feel like a real asshole,” his voice teased before capturing his bottom lip in between his teeth.
Desire, it’s one of the closest things most people get to witchcraft. That wasn’t true for people like you and him, but at least you could ward against real magic with sigils and amulets. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t stop yourself from letting your eyes flick down. You were weak to this magic. Even if it was for just a moment, nothing you did went without his noticing. There was no way you trusted your voice to answer him, instead opting to shake your head. That unspoken force of nature let your head tilt down, your eyes shadowed by long eyelashes as you looked up at his own. He took that as permission to keep pushing.
“I’ve got a couple of beers and a nice place to sit, if you wanna go enjoy this perfect Summer night,” his eyes flicked onto your bed, spotting your abandoned book before continuing, “or you could go back to Wonderland and I’ll go to bed. Choice is yours.” Again, the teasing, like you were some little kid. That’s what you let doubt creep into your mind. He isn’t seriously flirting, he is just being Dean. I’m just Bobby’s kid. If that was the truth, then that meant there was nothing wrong with what you said next.
“No, let’s go… just let me put something on.” You expected him to say something flirtatious, especially considering you were in nothing but a tank top and sleep shorts, but he surprisingly bit his tongue.
“Meet you outside in 5,” he said as he backed away from the door. He gave you a small wave as you closed the door, your heart audibly thumping once you were out of his sight. You elected to keep the tank top on, the feeling of having something to prove mixed with your selfish desire bubbling inside of you now. You wanted him to look at you. You traded out the sleep shorts for denim ones, and you couldn’t help but notice the way your thong stuck out slightly if you leaned over. Hopefully he’d notice too.
You made your way outside, the warm Summer air wrapping you in its hot spell. Nothing good happens after dark, you knew that better than most, but tonight you were willing to take the risk. Especially when the risk was this enticing. It took the form of Dean Winchester, black tee shirt and jeans perfectly wrapping around his body, a six pack hanging from his fingers. Relief that you didn’t detect washed over his face when he saw you appear. He had been driving himself crazy all night with his racing mind; the doubt, the consequences, all of it becoming so much that it was leaking from his pores. There was so much wrong in his mind. He didn’t want to hurt Bobby, he didn’t want to hurt you. He knew he wasn’t your age and he didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. Of course he let himself have some fun, he was always a flirt, but he knew this could be too far. Your confirmation, you showing up, that was the only way he could feel okay about this. If you both wanted it, then maybe it was allowed. Bobby didn’t have to know, right?
You hesitated in the glow of the porch light, giving him enough time to trace the line of your body up and down. Without a word, he turned away from you and started walking into the darkness. There was no instruction, you didn’t know if you were meant to follow. After a few moments, Dean turned, his amused smile and shaking head filling you with embarrassment. Finally, he beckoned you.
“You comin’?” You nodded, scurrying to his side as he kept walking. It was your turn to ask questions now.
“Where are we going?” He was making his way towards the scrap yard, but what could be out there?
“I told you, I know a place for a night like this. I’m not gonna kill you, if that’s what you’re so skittish about.” You hadn’t noticed it, but he was right. Your awareness suddenly turned inwards to the way your hands were squeezed in front of you, a physical symptom of your shyness. Despite his read being completely correct, you felt the need to defend yourself.
“I’m not skittish, it’s just chilly.” Total bullshit. It was 75 degrees out there, even with the sun down. An incredulous laugh escaped him, his deep rumble sending a shock through your system.
“Whatever you say, kid.” Now he was just having fun, playing with his food. It was impossible for you to get a read on him. Before you could even try, you came to a small clearing in the junkyard. There in the middle sat the Impala, so dark and shiny it almost blended into the night. You paused, letting him take the lead ahead of you. He put the 6-pack on the hood, leaning against it while looking at you expectantly.
“Dean, we can’t leave now, Bobby will…” you couldn’t finish the sentence. What would Bobby do? You two were doing nothing wrong. Just enjoying the night together, that was it.
“What, your old man gonna beat my ass for keeping you out past your bedtime?” Your face grew red hot and you shuffled your feet as embarrassment filled your body. This was a bad idea, and now your mind was screaming at you to turn around and go back inside. Dean sensed it in your silence, and he couldn’t help the wave of frustration that washed over him, both at himself and the situation he was in.
“Get over here, c’mon,” he commanded. Reassurance mixed with enticement laced his tone and you couldn’t bring yourself to disobey— you didn’t want to. You made your way over to him and when you finally were in front of him, he situated himself to put you between him and the car.
“Not a bad spot, right? Go ahead, sit.” You followed his orders again, sliding onto the long hood of the Chevy. He took two beers from the rack, holding one between his thumb and index and the other between the latter and his middle finger. He opened them both, handing one to you as he sat beside you. The arm that divided the two of you slid back to support his weight as he looked you over one last time. He memorized the way you looked against his Baby. The way your fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle let his imagination play, as did the slight spread of your legs. You were supporting yourself the same as him, but you kept your distance by holding your beer between the two of you. He forced his gaze up at the sky, the stars not nearly as interesting as the shine of the moonlight off your skin.
“It’s nice, yeah. I always like the night out here, being away from town lets you see all the stars.” He was glad that his attempt at playing it cool was working— that you both were letting the stars lead the conversation.
“Yeah, I know. I used to spend a lot of time out here when I was a little shit. Sammy and I were here a lot, must’ve been before you ever moved in.” Slowly, he was introducing his curiosity about you. How long have you been here, and how did I not know? How does a girl like you end up in this life?
“Right, I almost forgot I’m not the only ‘little shit’ Bobby keeps around,” there it was, the real you again.
“I’ve heard a lot about you and your brother through the years. Bobby really loves you guys.” Dean wasn’t a praying man, but right now he prayed to whatever higher power there was that you would stop bringing up your shared paternal figure. Whenever you said his name, he swore he could feel his eyes from somewhere far away.
“We love him too… but I want to know about you. How’d you end up here?” That was the question, one that for any hunter carried nothing but tragedy. He knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know you.
“Well, it’s not a great story. Poltergeist killed my parents when I was thirteen, Bobby killed it. I had nowhere else to go, and I was hellbent on getting some sort of revenge. Guess he knew it wouldn’t have been wise to leave me on my own, I probably would’ve gotten myself killed fast. I’ve been here since, he put me through high school then gave me a choice— go to college and never return to this life, go really make something of myself, or keep helpin’ him. But, I knew I couldn’t go back. So I stayed, and now it’s been a few years,” the final words came out deliberately, almost like you were granting him permission, trying to show him something. It didn’t go unnoticed, but that wasn’t what had his attention now.
“Shit kid, that’s rough.. I guess Bobby learned from my dad. Learned from his mistakes, I should say. Giving you the choice but still wanting you to get out, I wish mine could’ve talked to Sammy like that.” Dean took a long swig from his beer, the memories of the day Sam left playing in his mind. The cassette had been rewound hundreds of times on this memory, sometimes with anger, sometimes with pride, always with jealousy. Your eyes finally let themselves watch him, you could tell that his mind was somewhere else.
“Dean… I’m sorry. I’ve heard a lot about your dad, how things were for you guys,” your voice trailed as you tried to say the right thing, but he stopped you.
“Stop, don’t do that. It’s not your job to make me feel better about my shitty life. Besides, it’s not like it doesn’t have its perks.” With that, he gave you a wink, but you weren’t convinced. Your beer switched hands and you sat up more now as you ventured to put a hand on his arm. It simmered there, your pinky finger just past the length of his short sleeves to rest on his warm skin.
“It’s not up to you to prove anything to me, Dean. I know it was hard.” That was all you had to say for the magic of the night to cast its spell on you both again, the seriousness of the moment being replaced by the formation of a deep bond. His eyes now caught your lips. Your tongue subconsciously flicked over them, wetting them enough to catch the sparkle of the moon. Unlike you, he didn’t look away. He didn’t need to. His hand reached behind you, and you took that as a sign to close the space between the two of you.
His lips were warm, just like the rest of him. You moved in sync with him, your shock not being strong enough to make you freeze but enough to make you simmer. His body craned over yours slightly, his chest pushing into yours like there was a magnetic force pulling you together. Desire. Against your will, your knees pressed against each other, desperately trying to capture the heat of the night in your core.
The kiss didn’t last as long as you desperately needed it to. When he pulled away, a single ribbon of saliva connected you both. He stayed there for a flash, looking down at it before it broke. His gaze met yours with one thousand undecipherable emotions pouring out. To you they were unknown, but he knew too well what his eyes were saying. I want you, but I can’t. What if I break you? I can’t want this, you shouldn’t be involved with me at all. That’s why Bobby kept us apart. What if he finds out, what then? What happens when I leave? His thoughts spiraled as the silence between you two stretched thin. You were oblivious to his internal conflict, only feeling shame intruding on your enchantment. He doesn’t want you. Get out. You started to shift off the Impala as you hid your face from him. Despite your best efforts to suppress it, your eyes were stinging.
“Sorry Dean, I don’t know why I thought—”
“Say it again.” He spoke with authority once again, the kind that really froze you in your tracks this time. You were barely off the hood of the Impala as you turned to face him. You knew what he was asking, but you couldn’t understand why. Regardless, you obeyed.
“Dean.” His name came out like a command of your own, your ownership of it giving you some power. Both of you were breathless, staring each other down like a dare. He moved quicker than you could respond to, closing the distance between you again with another deep kiss. He took the beer from your hand, dropping them both to the ground. Instinctively you pulled away to see if they had shattered, but Dean’s commanding hands brought you back in.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. One thumb slipped into your belt loop and pulled you in by your hips while the other wrapped around your waist. Your own hands timidly explored him, fingers weaving through his hair and up his back. His lips moved slowly and deliberately as they slowly worked yours open. At first you didn’t give in, opting instead to lightly tugging his hair. A grunt escaped him, leaving his mouth slightly open just long enough to slip your tongue in first. However, you pulled it back when he tried to engage. He wasn’t having any of it and quickly used his hold on you to turn you both, trapping you between him and the Impala. A surprised yelp left you vulnerable for him, an entrance he took advantage of. There were no complaints on your end. Rather, you accepted him gladly, any and all traces of your teasing disappearing into the steamy night air.
Dean continued to apply pressure, sliding his knee in between yours. They hovered for a moment, not yet making full contact. You groaned and pushed your hips forward, chasing that friction, but he denied you. He pulled his knee back in tandem with his lips and looked down at you with cruel dominance.
“You want it? Want me to touch you?” You nodded furiously, giving him that same fluttering stare, but it wasn’t enough.
“I want to hear you say it.” You gave in quickly.
“Please, Dean, I want you.” It didn’t take much more for him to give you what you wanted. Denim met denim at your core as you grinded down into him. Your lips never broke, but you hummed into his open mouth as waves of pleasure washed over you. His fingers released your belt loop and made their way up, his large flat palms catching the material of your top on the way up. He gently squeezed your breast, massaging you through the fabric. His other hand wrapped around your hips, tugging up firmly. You took the silent command to hop and he guided you onto the hood, deepening the kiss as he leaned further over you. You both kept your pace as you felt your slick accumulating despite him not even touching your skin. As soon as you became aware of it, you became hungry for skin-to-skin contact. One hand ventured under his shirt while the other began to make its way down to where he needed you most. Through his jeans, you could feel him beginning to get hard. As soon as that contact was made, a grumble escaped his mouth, sending vibrations into your kiss. Just as you were losing yourself in the pleasure, Dean broke the kiss again.
“Come here, kid,” he whispered as he wrapped both hands around your hips and lifted you into his embrace. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist as you let your lips cascade down his neck. He opened the back seat and laid you down on the bench seat, standing tall over you as you scooted backwards and opened your legs to give him space. As soon as he joined you, you eagerly tugged off his shirt. You tried to take a moment to admire him, but he needed your lips back on his. Obediently you kissed him back, once again groping at his bulge. His hands worked fast to unbuckle his belt but he left you to the rest, instead turning his attention to working you out of your tank and bra. When they were finally off, he looked you up and down. His head dipped low, slowly kissing his way down your chest while unbuttoning your shorts. Once they were opened, he couldn’t believe his eyes. White lace panties, his weakness. He buried his head in your stomach, taking small nibbles at the flesh at your waist as he teased the hem. Your fingers laced in his hair again, eagerly pushing him down, but he refused. His eyes met yours as he slightly raised his head, his voice breaking through the silence of the night.
“Let me take my time with you, baby, please.” Your head fell back against the window of the car as he continued at his agonizing pace, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties for only a moment before retracting, the fabric snapping against your sensitive skin. Finally, he lifted your hips and pulled your shorts and underwear down in one pull. You laid bare before him as he let his hungry eyes feast. The seconds before contact were excruciating but worth the way. He quickly began indulging himself in you, his tongue working quick circles around your clit while his finger slowly prodded your entrance. He took his time there, agonizingly tracing up and down, up and down…
“Please, I can’t take it any more,” you squeaked out. He ignored you for a long moment before indulging you, pressing his long index inside of you. A soft moan escaped you as he worked his way inside of you, slowly pumping in and out. It wasn’t long before he added a second finger— he didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. Maybe it was pity, maybe it was his desire to feel you. His eyes met yours as he devoured you. His smugness was gone, replaced by a reverent need to please you. Your heart rate ramped as you made your way up to your climax. You knew it was coming, but you were left unable to vocalize it. Dean felt it anyways as your walls firmly clamped around his fingers, but his pace was unrelenting. He kept working you, murmuring soft encouragements against your core that only intensified your orgasm. When you finally peaked, your hips shot off the leather of the seats. He held you sturdy in place, a submission you revelled in.
When his lips finally broke from you, you could see the remnants of you all over his face from the light trickling into the car. You pulled yourself up to meet you, crashing your lips back into his as he shared your taste with you. Finally, you began pulling down his pants and boxers, desperate to feel him inside of you. When his dick was finally free, you broke away from him to look. Its angry red tip was pressed against his toned stomach, beads of precum smearing on his skin with every movement. His lips didn’t leave you fully alone after the kiss broke. Instead they made their way to your ear to whisper obscene demands.
“You taste so fucking good baby, but I need to ruin you. I need to feel you come apart for me baby, can you do that?” You nodded eagerly, completely unable to speak. He lined himself up, smearing your slick between your folds with his cock. With one fluid motion he was inside of you. You both let out cries of satisfaction as you squeezed around him. He started with the tip at first, taking you further with each small stroke until he was filling you up. He fit perfectly inside you, hitting exactly where you needed him to with each movement. Still, it wasn’t enough.
“Dean, faster, fuck,” the words tumbled out. You needed him now and hard, but he couldn’t do it yet.
“I don’t want to hurt you baby, fuck, trust me, it’s killing me just as much as you.”
“Then do it, please,” you pleaded again, “you won’t hurt me.” Dean shook his head, becoming aware of just how untrue that statement was. He was bound to hurt you, even if it wasn’t in this moment. Him and Sam couldn’t stay forever, he would have to leave you. No matter how casual you would pretend to be tomorrow, he could tell that wasn’t really you.
“Can’t make promises I know I can’t keep,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Frustration and impatience took the wheel in that moment as you clasped your hands around his face, his soft thrusts coming to a stop inside of you.
“It’s too late to take this back. I want you, I need you right now. Please, I’m not some stupid kid.” Your self-consciousness from early was returning in full force. However, you couldn’t have misunderstood Dean more.
“Sweetheart, that’s not what this is about, can’t you see that?” He never intended for you to feel this way, but he couldn’t help his need to protect you. You, so beautiful and pure underneath him, giving yourself to a man who barely deemed himself worthy to wake up in the morning, much less to share a moment like this with a girl as good as you.
“This is about me. I’m not good for you, tomorrow I’m gonna be out of here and you might never see me again. Are you really okay with that?” There was a moment of silence between you before you shook your head, the emotions of the moment welling in your eyes.
“Dean, I know that. Of course I’m not okay with it, but it’s worth it to be with you, even just for tonight. So please, let me feel you. Let go.” Finally, you broke through to him. It was his turn to obey. He dipped his head back down to meet your lips and finally gave you what you wanted. One arm wrapped around your head to protect you from impact with the door as he deeply thrusted into you with fast, calculated pounds. You fell apart around him, completely unable to keep your noises or your hands to yourself. His free hand grabbed your ankle and propped it over his shoulder to reach deeper inside of you. He wanted to bury himself in you until he could touch your soul. He wished you had met somewhere else, had more time to get to know each other, maybe if you were two different people completely you could have that. But that wasn’t real life. All he had was now, in this car, tonight. He wanted to make it everything you both wished, a memory that would burn through the night into infinity. He didn’t love you, how could he when he just met you? That didn’t change that he knew you two were meant to meet, and maybe in another world you could have.
He grimaced into the kiss at the thought and you knew exactly why. Your mind was in the same place, feeling all of the same things. Your fingers wrapped around his cheeks, stroking them softly as he kept his quick pace. You smiled back into the kiss, shining with reassurance and bliss that melted away his fear. Finally, you feel his pace begin to falter. His lips momentarily break from yours, his lips speaking deeply against yours.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby,” he grumbles before taking his last piece of you. He pulls out, spilling himself onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire you there, still spread out and covered in him, absolutely beautiful. His hand reaches out without his control, brushing your hair behind your ear before cupping your face. You rest your cheek against it, closing your eyes. I wish we could stay like this forever. A dangerous thought, but you couldn’t help it.
After a moment, Dean reached into the glove box in the front to get something to clean you with. He does it gently, making sure to get every drop off your skin. You watch him work meticulously, your smile slowly turning sentimental. It was time to speak.
“Dean, I…”
“I hope I see you again,” he interrupts. You weren’t sure what you were going to say, but you knew that what better than whatever you could have conjured.
“You will. Whenever it is, make your way back to me. You know where I’ll be.” For a moment, he wished he didn't. He wondered what your life could’ve been if you would have taken Bobby’s other option for you. You could have gone to college, met a nice, normal guy who could give you the stability you deserved. Again, you watched Dean float away into his own worries.
“You can always reach out for any help too, you’ve got my number,” you spoke sweetly, hoping to pull him out of his spiral.
“I’ve got Bobby’s number, not yours.” A soft laugh escaped your lips as he began to dress you, pulling your top over your head as you raised your arms. It felt nice being taken care of by Dean, you didn’t want it to end yet, but you knew it was time. Through whispers, you both finished getting dressed before crawling out of the back seat. He gathers the rack of beers with one hand before wrapping his free arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to the house. When you make it inside and up the stairs, he takes you to your door. You both linger there, you standing in the open doorway, him just outside in the hall.
“This is goodnight then. Will I see you in the morning?” The question was bold, but you needed to hear him say it. You needed to know this wasn’t it yet.
“We’ll be at breakfast, I promise. After that we’ll have to hit the road though… I’m sorry.” It wasn’t an apology for him leaving, it was for the fact that this was his life, your life.
“It’s okay Dean, we don’t have to think about it now. If you’re at breakfast tomorrow morning, I’ll know you’re sorry. Maybe I’ll give you my number then,” you joked at the end, hoping to alleviate the weight of the moment. Dean felt no need to dismiss it though, this was the most real he had felt in a long time.
“I’m counting on it,” he leaned in for one last goodnight kiss before disappearing down the hallway, into the darkness you once hated so much. Now, you only prayed it would someday return him to you.
