#deanreader

“I slept with Lindsey,” he said, eyes locked in yours, voice void of emotion. “Happy now?”

“‘Happy now?’” you scoffed. “Are you serious? At least try to pretend you’re sorry.”

“Well, I am sorry. But I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Your hands trembled as they balled into fists. You looked up, blinking away your tears. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve a single tear from you. You could cry once he’d left your house. Not now.

“Why?” your voice wavered. “Just tell me, why would you sleep with her and waste our relationship over one night?”

“I was drunk.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you snarled. “You were drunk, not unconscious. You knew what you were doing. It’s not like you thought she was me, ‘cause we certainly don’t look alike. Not ever our skin color is the same. Let alone our personalities. And it’s not like you tripped and fell naked into her bed.”

“I was drunk, and it clouded my better judgment.”

“Did it happen before?”

“No.”

“Was she the only one?”

“Yes.”

“God, you’re so stupid,” you scoffed with a shook of your head. “We’ve been together for four years. Four fucking years. You decided to waste all that in one night. You took our plans, our promises, our future and threw all of it in the trash.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Fuck you.” A snarl left your lips.

“I know I screwed up. You deserved a whole lot better than that. But couldn’t you see we were burning out?”

You glowered, eyes snapping at him. “Don’t you dare try to find any excuse for your mistake.”

“I hope one day you can forgive me.”

His eyes cast down, face ridden with shame.

“Do you regret it?” your voice trembled.

Alex remained silent. He wouldn’t meet your gaze. He didn’t move. He only took shallow breaths, chest barely rising and falling.

“Do you regret it?” You already knew the answer to your question. Yet the masochist in you had to hear him say it. You needed him to voice it, or else you would forgive him too easily.

“No.” His voice was as loud as a whisper.

“You’re gonna regret it eventually,” you said matter of factly. “Maybe not today, not tomorrow. Maybe not even next week. But you are going to regret it. One day you're gonna wake up and realize the one person who was loyal to you and loved you with their whole being is gone. Then you’re gonna be miserable. That’s when you regret it. When you realize how pathetic and heartless you are.”

He stood there silent. There wasn’t much he could say. He didn’t want to prolong this relationship. It was pointless to try and justify his actions or beg for forgiveness.

Pointing towards the door of your bedroom, you said through gritted teeth. “Get out of my house.”

Alex didn’t fight. He strode out of your room and down the stairs with nothing but a frustrated sigh and zingering eyes. The front door slammed shut. A thud echoed within the walls.

Your knees trembled before giving out and hitting the floor. A sharp pain coursed through your chest. You gasped, breaths shallow and rapid.

“Oh, my god.”

Tugging at the fabric of your shirt over your heart, you allowed a burning tear to fall. It hurt everywhere. Small needles pierced through your chest so deep. You could barely breathe as more tears rolled. Alex had plunged a keen knife into your aching heart and twisted as he watched it bleed.

Tears burned down your cheeks as your heart twitched and clamped within your ribcage. You sobbed, one hand latched on your chest and the other on your stomach. All you could see was the look on his face every time you closed your eyes. Not an ounce of remorse.

But couldn’t you see we were burning out?

His words echoed in your head and splintered your heart. The ache was almost unbearable.

The loud purr of the Impala sounded through the open window of your bedroom before getting cut. Dean was home.

You didn’t want him seeing you like this. Your hand came up to cup your mouth and muffle your sobs. You stared at the open door, trying to get your legs to stand so you could shut it.

“I’m home, and I brought ice cream,” Dean announced, followed by the thud of the front door shutting.

Your mouth opened, but no word came out. You prayed Dean, your roommate and best friend, would go straight to his room. But that wasn’t likely. He’d probably seen your car parked in the driveway, and he was going to check on you.

“Y/N/N? You home?”

More tears were shed. Logger boots sounded heavy on the stairs. Bowing and shaking your head, you closed your eyes tight. Opening them, you found Dean standing on the threshold. He heaved a deep sigh. The edge of his eyes softened as his lips pursed. He knew this moment would come eventually. He only hoped you wouldn’t be the one getting hurt.

You opened your mouth several times, but no sound came out, your throat sore, the ache too much to handle. Dean walked into the room. Green eyes fixated on you, he held out his hand. You shook your head, teeth scraping your bottom lip.

“I can’t,” you said, voice hoarse.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “Take my hand.”

Hesitant, you took it, and he helped you to stand. Dean tucked his arm under your legs, and the other supported your back as he held you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing. He sat on your bed, back rested on the headboard, with you on his lap.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed your temple, his fingers running up and down your arm. “He’s an ass.”

You shook your head. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not, sweetheart.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t. But I do know it’s not your fault.”

Dean leaned to meet your eyes, but you nuzzled into his chest, hiding from his gaze.

“Tell me what happened.”

“He cheated.”

His heart quickened, thudding against your ear. Dean drew a deep breath as his jaw ticked, nostrils flaring.

“Son of a bitch.”

“It’s not his fault. I-I let him.”

“No, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. It’s his.”

“He asked me to come to his friend’s party, and I said I had to study. If I’d been there, he wouldn’t have slept with Lindsey.”

“No, baby. He would’ve waited for you to go home or get distracted, only then he would leave to get his dick wet. He was going to cheat whether you were there or not.”

“Dean-“ you sobbed. The fabric of his shirt was wet with tears and snot.

“You did nothing wrong.” He lifted your chin; bloodshot eyes met forest greens. “He didn’t deserve you or your heart. And I know that doesn’t make it hurt any less, but try to get that through that pretty head of yours.”

You gave him a single nod.

God, how Dean wished you’d look at him differently. He could give you the love you deserve. He could make you the most adored woman to ever walk on earth. All he needed was for you to give him a chance. He could try and heal all the damage that was left. He would kiss your tears away and hold you until your heart was glued back together. He just needed you to say the word.

For now, he was going to hold you and pick all the shattered, tiny pieces of your heart. Once the tears had dried, he was going to help you place them together.

“He had my whole heart, and he broke it either way,” you sniffled.

“I promise you I’m gonna help you put it together after I go kick his ass.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

“You wanna know what’s the worst part?” Your voice was strangled. It hurt your throat to speak. Dean hummed, his hold on you tightening. “He wasn’t mad at what he did. He was mad because I found out.”

“He’s gonna get what he deserves, sweetheart,” Dean promised. “And remember, Alex was never worthy of you nor an ounce of your love. You’re better off without him.”

Nuzzling into his chest, you focused on his scent and his words. Dean was the best friend you could’ve ever asked for.

“No, please,” you protested, grabbing his wrist when he placed you on the bed by his side and attempted to stand up. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna get us the ice cream I bought, I’ll be right back. Why don’t you turn on the tv? We could watch Modern Family. That episode we love. The one they sing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’.”

Your face lightened up slightly, eyes shining and this time it wasn’t because of new tears breeding.  

“Lake Life!”

“That’s the one.” Dean smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he started to walk out of your room to head to the kitchen. When he reached the door, you called.

“Dean?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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You were always a mystery to Dean. Why you had stuck around. How you didn’t let him shut you out. How you fought for him. How made for each other you both were. You never ceased to surprise him. But that’s what he loved. There was so much depth to who you were, and Dean took such a fascination to it. 

And even now, as things got hot and heavy in the bed of your new shared home, he was so fascinated in how you moved and acted. Even Sam had believed you put a spell on him. But you had, over the past few years, changed him for the better. 

“Baby-” Dean choked out as you straddled his lap, lips locked fiercely. The heavy rain pouring outside making the moment feel nothing short of a romantic scene from a movie. The cold sheets being warmed by the fast movements of your bodies was calming yet fueling the fire. 

“I- I know babe,” you whispered against his shoulder as his mouth attacked your neck, almost ruining you, feeling his throbbing cock strained against his jeans. He bit down on your neck, making you yelp, but feeling a shock of arousal pooling inside you. “Dean-” you moaned out, the need for him growing. 

You reached between the two of you, fumbling with his zipper and jeans buttons, so desperate to feel him you only shove his jeans and boxers down his hips with his help. During the process you were able to do the same with your panties, but they were just dangling off your calf forgotten in the process. 

“You OK?” he asked, words barely escaping, sounding so wrecked, and god, it was beautiful. You were only able to nod, throat feeling blocked by some imaginary ball. His fingers trailed up your stomach and began to kneed your breasts, taking one is his mouth. The feeling of his mouth was intense, and you were only able to choke out some form of ‘yes’ and ‘please’. 

You lifted your hips swiftly, taking his swollen dick in your hand, lowering yourself onto him. Your body filled with heat from head to toe as he helped lower your hips. It had been too long since you had gotten to feel him like this. 

Dean felt himself almost bottom out. He gritted his teeth, muttering a quick profanity between them before gathering his composure. He started to guide your hips along the length of his cock, watching only as you were left breathless. 

It felt like he had taken all the air out of you, being so consumed by nothing but his touch. Noise wanted to slip through your lips, touches wanted to be reciprocated, but it seemed so impossible in the moment. 

“Baby-” he placed his hand on your cheek, “come on, breathe,” and it all came back to you, him, the moment, where you were. You sucked in a deep breath, only able to look him in the eyes. 

He started the movements of your hips once again, and you exhaled, a breathy moan taking over. The feeling of him fucking you so slow but so deep turning you to mush, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Please- Dean,” you whimpered, “more,” was all you could get out. And suddenly he lifted you off him, laid you down and moved back into you in one fast swoop. The angle was so different and much deeper that it almost destroyed you. 

He started to fuck into you faster than ever before and gave no mercy. He made both of you start to get more worked up. His grunts came closer together and your moans and whimpers grew louder. 

Your insides felt like they were about to boil, and the heat that was spreading took over and you came shouting his name. He watched in awe as your face twisted and your jaw dropped, closely following in suit himself. 

“Dean,” you whispered as he was still hovered above you, still inside you. “I missed you so, so much,” you expressed. 

“They've been with me the entire day. The boys deserve a break,” Dean smiled. “‘Sides, what can I say? Being around you and your cheerful mood make me forget all my problems and why I want to punch my dad so much.”

“Oh, having problems with your dear father? Why? Daddy put you on a leash again?” you laughed as you leaned on the counter, signaling for another round.

“Shut up,” with a roll of his eyes, he mumbled. “I don’t get why you despise me so much. Your problem is with my dad, not with me.”

“Well, what’s that saying? The son of my enemy is my enemy?”

“I don’t think there’s such a thing.”

“I definitely heard it somewhere,” you downed your drink before winking at him.

“You two,” Benny called as he brought Dean’s food. “No fighting, no punching, no arguments. If you do any of that, I’m throwing you out, and I’ll never allow any of you here ever again. This is a neutral zone, and as much as I like you both, I gotta keep things peaceful ‘round here, so no fighting.”

“What if I punch him outside of your bar?” You asked with an innocent smile, batting your eyelashes.

“No fighting,” he said, lips quivering slightly as he held back his laugh.

“Can I please get some burgers and fries here?” You pleaded.

“Coming right up, darling.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

“You know, Y/N,” Dean started as Benny left, shoving a couple of French fries into his mouth. “We could either fight to death or have sex to death. It’s your choice.”

“I don’t know, Dean, only fighting to death would get me off. So I’m gonna have to go with that.”

“You’re twisted,” he pointed out before taking a bite out of his burger. “I like that about you. It makes you even hotter.”

“Listen, Dean. I came here to clear my head, not to make small talk with you. Why don't you go back to your brother and your guys? They seem to be having fun.”

“Nah, teasing you is way better,” a smile broke out on his lips.

With a roll of your eyes, you decided it was better to ignore him for the time being. You focused on the delicious burger instead.

Dean had always tried to get on your nerves, and not once had he failed. You had been fighting ever since you’d met. It wasn’t your fault, really. The two of you were conditioned to hate each other. Dean had grown up hearing his father say the most horrible things about your dad and everything related to him, including you. Your father used to tell you to never get close to the Winchesters. Being two stubborn gang leaders, your father and John had many disagreements. At first, they used to have deals and businesses, but at some point, it became impossible for them to agree on anything. They hated each other. Before dying, your dad had tried to fix things with John. He didn’t want you to have an enemy as strong as the Winchester once you took over the gang. John had never given him a chance to make things right.

“This has been bugging me for years now,” he started. “Why do you hate me so much? Please, don’t tell me it’s because of that time I pushed you off the swing when we were eight.”

“To be honest, that was the beginning of everything. I scraped my knees, and it hurt like a bitch.”

“Yeah, I know. After you stopped crying, you punched me,” he chuckled. “I thought we were even, but then the next time you saw me, you kicked me in the nuts. Why? I was just a kid.”

“You were mean,” you said, and he smiled. “I had never seen an evil kid, and then I met you.”

“I rocked your world, huh?”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes.

“If you roll your eyes one more time, I’m afraid you’re gonna have a stroke.”

“Then get away from me.”

“I’m actually having fun here,” he smirked before leaning on the counter. “Hey, Benny? Two negronis, please. One for me and one for my friend Y/N.”

“What? No, I’m not having a drink with you.”

“Don’t listen to her, Benny,” Dean yelled back at his friend, his eyes on you.

“On it, brother.”

“I’m not having a drink with you,” you shook your head, finishing your burger.

“Why not? I promise it won’t hurt that big ego of yours.”

“Trust me, my ego is not nearly as big as yours,” you pointed out with an arched eyebrow.

“Yet I’m the one willing to have a drink with you,” he pressed his lips into a thin line. “C’mon, Y/N, it’ll be fun.”

“Here ya go,” said Benny, placing the tumblers on the wooden counter.

“Thank you, brother.”

Dean held out his glass. You glanced at him with narrowed eyes. He smiled, tilting his head and cocking his brow. You sighed and held out your glass, clinking it to his.

“There ya go,” he said, watching you drink. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

“I swear to god, Winchester, if you’re trying to poison me, I’m gonna kill you,” you threatened through gritted teeth.

“Now, why would I do that?” he asked innocently.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he shrugged. “Unfortunately, Y/N, I’m not trying to poison you.”

“You better be telling the truth.”

“You know what we should do?”

“We are not doing anything.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he dramatically rolled his eyes. “Don’t you see I’m trying to be nice here?”

“I don’t want you to be nice. I want you to get away from me.”

“So you like ‘em rough, huh?” he smirked.

“Oh, my god. Shut up,” you smacked his shoulder.

“Hey, no fighting, remember?”

Drawing a sharp intake of breath, you asked, “What is it that you think we should do?”

“Shoot some darts.”

“Awesome,” Dean smiled as your eyes shone. “You’ll be the target, and I’ll try not to leave you blind or hit any artery.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“Let’s do it,” you jumped from your stool, rubbing your palms on your jeans after finishing the Negroni.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

Dean headed towards the board on the farthest wall. He rolled up the sleeves of his green shirt as his bowlegs carried him with a slight sway of his hips. Even the way he walks is cocky. You followed him. Dean retrieved the darts from the board.

“What a gentleman,” you teased as he handed you three darts and kept one to himself. “Go ‘head. You first.”

Dean nodded. You watched as he positioned himself. His thick fingers gripped the dart steadily, his eyes narrowing as he aimed. Dean threw the dart, and it hit the outside circle of the bullseye. He turned to you, flashing a cocky smile.

“Not bad,” you said.

“Think you can do better?” he smirked.

“Honey, I can do much better,” you teased, aiming and shooting. The dart hit the outside circle of the bullseye too.

“You don’t seem much better to me,” he scoffed.

“I’m just warming up,” with a smirk, you tossed the two remaining darts, landing on the bullseye. You tilt your head, looking at the board. “Yeah, it seems so much better to me.”

“That was impressive,” he nodded.

“It was quite easy. I was just picturing your face.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “How about we make things more interesting?”

“Yes! You go there in front of the board, and I’ll try not to shoot your eye.”

“You’re not funny,” he deadpanned.

“I’m hilarious,” you chuckled. “But fine, Benny said no fighting, so what do you have in mind?”

“Every time we hit the bullseye, we get to ask each other a question.”

“What’s the fun in that?” you frowned, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why are you like that?”

“Fine, I guess it’s good to get to know your enemies, right?”

“I’m not your enemy, Y/N,” he shook his head. “I think that deep down, in that cold heart of yours, you’re attracted to me. And you hate that, but you don’t hate me.”

“You wish,” you rolled your eyes, walking towards the board. Waiting for you to give him two darts, Dean held out his hand, and you placed them on his palm. His fingers wrapped around your wrist. You looked up at him.

“No more eye-rolling.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, his grip on you tightened. “Okay, okay, no more eye-rolling. I promise.”

“Good,” he let go of you. “You go first; I’ll go get us some beers. Don’t cheat.”

“Why would I cheat? I’m better than you.”

“That was a lucky shot, sweetheart,” he smirked, heading to the bar.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you promptly tossed the two darts. The last one landed on the bullseye. “Yes!”

Dean returned with two uncapped beers, offering you one. You thanked him. He glanced at the board before taking a gulp of his beverage.

“Alright, what’d you wanna know?”

“Favorite song?” you asked, sipping at your beer.

“It’s a tie.”

“Between?”

“Led Zeppelin ‘Ramble On’ and ‘Traveling Riverside Blue’,” he said proudly.

“Those are great,” you nodded. “Your turn now.”

“How many people have you slept with?” he asked after hitting the bullseye.

You were glad he had his back to you and didn’t see the initial surprise in your face. Masking the shock, you answered, “I don’t know. Lost count, I guess.”

“Okay, I’ll take that as an answer.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” you queried.

“Yep.”

“Really?” your jaw dropped.

“Yeah,” a proud smile made its way to his plump lips.

“I didn’t think you had balls to get a tattoo.”

“Oh, shut up,” he chuckled, tossing his darts. “Biggest turn-on?”

“Hands,” you said. “Biggest turn-on?”

“You.”

“Oh,” your heart skipped a beat or two as his eyes bored into yours. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back. “Yeah, I’m everybody’s biggest turn-on. What can I say? I’m irresistible.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“No eye-rolling, remember?”

“Right.”

“Shit,” you cursed as both darts missed the bullseye.

“Looks like you’re not that good after all,” he smirked. “Did you ever have public sex?”

“That’s none of your business,” you pointed out, eyes trained on your target.

“C’mon, don’t do that.”

“Have you ever had public sex?” you asked with a smirk on your lips.

“Now you’re stealing my questions,” he grumbled, taking a gulp at his beer. “But since I’m not a party pooper, I’m answering. Yes, I have.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Wait, you’re not answering me?”

“As I said, it’s none of your business.”

“You’re no fun,” you had to repress a laugh from bursting when he slightly popped out his bottom lip. He shot again. “How many times have you come in one session?”

You choked on your beer. Dean reached out to pat your shoulder, but you pushed him away.

“There was this one time,” you started. “I think it was five.”

“Five.”

“Five,” you sipped your drink.

“At least those you count.”

“Oh, shut up,” you chuckled. “Just quit asking me about sex.”

“Okay. No more sex questions.”

“I don’t wanna play darts any more.”

“No more darts then.”

Dean turned his back, ready to return to the bar.

“What do we do now?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he stopped in his tracks, turning to look at you. “What do you wanna do?”

“A game of pool maybe,” you suggested. “I wanna know if you’re as good as people say you are.”

“I’m even better,” he winked. “But first, I’d say we get some shots, shall we?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can win?” playfully, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’d never do that,” he chuckled. Holding out his hand, he called. “C’mon.”

You smiled and placed your hand in his. Dean dragged you to the counter. He called for a round of whiskey.  

“What are we toasting to?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged.

“Our first date,” Dean smiled, holding his glass.

“This is not a date,” you shook your head.

“I don’t care. I’m toasting to our first date.”

With a shake of your head, you tapped your glass to his. Tilting it back, you emptied it with your eyes closed. A harsh breath left your lips.

“What are you doing?” you asked, chuckling, as Dean looked around the bar suspiciously.

“Checking if Benny is close.”

“Why?”

“So I can do this,” he leaned over the counter, reaching down for a bottle of Johnie Walker Blue and two tumblers. “Let's go.”

You rushed out of the stool straight to the pool hall. Dean served the glasses and placed the bottle on a round table nearby.

“Here,” he handed you the glass.

“You’re definitely trying to get me drunk,” you sipped your drink.

“No, I’m not,” chuckling, Dean grabbed a stick and handed it to you. You worked your way around the table to chalk the tip.

“I’ll break.”

“Then I’ll rack.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

Dean slid the cue ball into place and stepped aside. You leaned over the table, your grip on the stick firm. A loud crack echoed in the bar as you broke, pocketing two solid balls. You winked at him as he finished his drink.

“Lucky shot, I guess,” he mumbled.

“No luck. I’m just that good.”

In a few minutes, the green felt was cleared of solid balls. You moved around the table, eyes fixed on the last target. Leaning over, you looked up at him.

“Eightball, side pocket.”

A snap sounded before the eightball fell in the side pocket. You burst out laughing at his defeated look.

“See? I told you I was good.”

“This is not how I thought our first date would go,” Dean sighed, picking the balls from the pockets and racking them.

“We’re not on a date,” you reminded him.

“Oh, c’mon, a guy can dream,” he said before bending over the table, looking up at you. “And don’t you dare to roll your eyes at me.”

“I won’t,” you held up your hands.

“Good,” a loud crack followed his husky voice as he shot the cue ball.

“So, how’d you think our first date would go?”

“So you admit this is our first date?” he stood up, moving around the table.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t go like this,” he sunk a third stripe ball. “Maybe we’d watch a movie and then go to a restaurant. I don’t know. The hardest part would be to ask you out since you’d probably answer with a punch.”

“I would not,” you chuckled, emptying your drink.

“The only thing keeping you from punching me right now is Benny,” he said.

“Turns out you’re not that bad, Dean,” you admitted, his green eyes finding yours.

“Shit,” he cursed as the striped ball missed the pocket.

“Move aside,” you said.

Intently, Dean watched as you bent over the table. You were so close to him. His fist clenched to deter himself from reaching out to you. He drew in a sharp breath, swallowing thickly as you stood up and walked around. His eyes followed every sway of your hips. Under long eyelashes, you stared up at him, smirking. His emerald green eyes and luscious lips made it impossible to look away. With a deep breath, you focused on the game in front of you.

“Fuck, no,” you said as you missed the ball.

“Lucky me,” a mischievous grin made its way to his lips.

“You’re not gonna win this game, Winchester,” you said, stopping in front of him

“I’m gonna win this game, Y/N,” he smiled, his body impossibly close. “And most important, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“The hell you are,” you snorted with arms crossed over your chest. The heat of his body sipped through the fabric of your clothes into your skin.

“Move over,” he asked.

“No.”

“C’mon. What are you? Five?” he chuckled, but you didn’t budge. “Okay, remember you made me do this,” lightly, his hands fell to your hips, and he pushed you aside.

Dean walked around the table, his eyes trained on the game. He bent over the table, thick fingers meeting the green felt. His lips curled into a wicked grin, eyes lifting to you. A crack sounded, startling you. The blue striped ball fell into the pocket. Dean stood straight with a smug grin, his eyes eating you alive. You swallowed thickly before moving to the small round table to fill your glass.  The liquid ran smoothly down your throat as you emptied the contents.

“Hey, easy there,” Dean called as he saw you filling and downing another glass. “We don’t want to get you drunk, do we?”

“No, we don’t.”

“Right, so you should slow things down a bit,” he suggested, turning his attention back to the game.

“This is not fair,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“What’s not fair?” he chuckled. Dean wanted to kiss that pout off your lips.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. It’s not fair that you are winning this game.”

“I can’t help it if I’m that good, sweetheart,” a cocky grin made its way to his lips.

“Just shut up,” you wanted to roll your eyes, but you didn’t. Instead, you downed another shot.  

Dean pocketed the last of the striped balls. You sighed. A stupid smile wouldn’t leave his plump lips. He looked up at you; his green eyes darker. He tapped the corner pocket on his right. He aimed and struck. The eightball sunk in the exact spot he called. With a smug grin, Dean laid his stick on the table.

“I’m that good,” he said, making his way over to you.

“Remember I beat you first.”

“So we’re even?” he took the stick from your hands, his fingers brushing your skin.

“We’re even.”

“Good,” he smiled. “It would be terrible of me to leave my date unsatisfied. I always leave them happy. Especially after our first date.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m happy,” you shrugged. “I just lost, so there’s no way I can be happy after that.”

“I could change it,” he took a step forward, and you backed.

“You think you can make me happy?” you challenged with a small smirk.

“Very happy,” another step forward. His eyes were locked in yours.

Your breath was caught in your throat, chest heavily rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. You flinched as your back hit the wall. Dean was impossibly close. You averted his hungry eyes, trying not to focus on the way he was making you feel. On the other side of the bar, you found your guys — that had come with you for protection — standing up from their seats. With a shake of your head, they sat and returned to their drinks and games.

“Look at me,” he rasped lowly, and you obeyed.

Dean’s hands fell to your hips, sending goosebumps throughout your entire body. His tongue peeked between his lascivious lips, wetting them. He pressed his body to yours. His head ducked in the curve of your neck. He breathed you in with closed eyes. Your delicious scent filled his lungs. He hummed. His breath ghosted over your skin as his lips met your ear.

“I’ll get out of this bar alone and wait outside for you. If you don’t show up in five minutes, then I’ll leave, and we’ll try to ignore everything we’re feeling right now. Or you meet me outside—“ he prompted. “— and I’ll show you how happy I can make you tonight.”

A whimper left your lips as he pressed his crotch to you.

“It’s your choice, sweetheart,” he pulled away reluctantly. “Five minutes.”

Dean warned, his eyes dipping to your lips one last time before he pulled away and turned on his step. Your thighs clenched unwittingly, wetness pooling between your legs. You watched as he carried himself towards the door. He knew his effect on you, and, right now, he was using it against you. With parted lips, you tried to remind yourself how to breathe.

A raging war started in your mind between resisting him and giving in to him. Between pride and pleasure. One night with him wouldn't damage your pride enough, but one night with Dean Winchester wouldn't be enough. One night with him was a taste of hell. A taste wasn't enough for a sinner like you.

“Ah, fuck this,” you mumbled, pouring another drink and downing it.

With firm steps and unsteady legs, you headed out of the bar. The cool air hit your skin, raising goosebumps all over you. There was no one outside. Your eyes followed the numerous cars parked until they landed on the sleek black Impala. Dean leaned against the car, his arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed. The corner of his lips tilted into a smirk once he saw you. With a mirrored smile, you walked towards him. A mix of liquor and desire coursed through your veins, poisoning your blood. It was all his doing.

“Thought you wouldn’t come,” his gruff voice broke the silence as you made your way to him.

Your fingers reached for the collar of his green shirt as your lips crashed into his. His mouth was still, soft against yours. Dean’s brow arched in surprise before his eyes fell shut, and he kissed you. His arm snaked around your waist, pressing your body firmly to him. Every glide of his lips intoxicated you. Dean pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. His hand came up to your face, his warm palm pressing to your cheek as his thumb traced your parted lips.

Dean kissed you firmly. His tongue teased inside your mouth as he stole every last breath from your lungs. Your fingers found his hair, tugging at his short brown locks and deepening the kiss. Dean drank in the moan that fell from your lips. He parted, holding your face in his large hands. A smile broke across his lips as he watched you intently. Your lips were puffed, and your eyes remained closed.

“This is definitely better than I’d imagined,” he chuckled.

“So much better,” you smirked, pulling him closer.

His head dipped as he pressed his lips to your neck. The growing stubble tickled at your skin. His soft mouth planted delicate kisses down your throat to your exposed collarbone. Hastened hands skimmed down your body, finding the first button of your jeans. A moan escaped you as his teeth nibbled on your sensitive skin.

“Dean,” you breathed.

He unfastened the buttons of your jeans, shoving them down your feet along with your panties. The cold air licked at your skin, yet heat flooded your veins. Your mind was hazy. Maybe it was the Johnnie Walker. Maybe it was Dean Winchester. At this point, you didn’t know for certain. His lips kissing every exposed patch of skin and his hands gripping your thighs had turned off your rational switch. It was all primal desire.

Dean lifted you as though you weighed nothing and turned with you in his arms. He positioned you on top of the hood of the Impala gently. A whimper rolled out your tongue as the cold metal met the bare skin of your ass.

“Someone could see us,” you panted.

“So what?” a smirk appeared on his lips, a devilish look in his eyes. “I bet they’d wish they were us.”

“Dean,” you moaned as his hand trailed down your body to where you needed him most. “Please.”

He slipped his middle finger between your folds before bringing it up to his eye level. Your slick glistened on his coated digit. A cocky grin spread on his lips.

“You’re really wet for someone who claims to hate me so much.”

“If I hated you that much, this wouldn’t be happening right now,” you moaned.

“Good to know.”

You made a strangled sound as his lips wrapped around his thick finger. He sucked your arousal off his skin with a moan. You clenched around nothing.

“You taste so good,” he whispered, his breath fanning at your cheek.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, inching him closer. His hand rested on the nape of your neck as the other cupped your mound. His index and ring fingers parted your lips, and his middle finger circled your clit. He set a torturous pace. He gave you enough to drive you crazy, yet not enough to make you come. Your hips bucked against him.

“So needy,” he mumbled against your lips, his voice husky.

“Please,” you choked.

His finger circled your entrance before slipping inside. You gasped. He thrust slowly, curling it. Dean smiled as he learned all the spots that had you writhing under his touch. His thumb grazed over your clit. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders. Dean groaned in your neck, picking up the pace.

“More, please,” you purred.

“So polite,” another finger slid inside you.

Your head fell forward on the curve of his neck as your hips rolled. Dean groaned when you kissed his neck. His fingers tugged at your hair. He pulled you for a searing kiss. His tongue was as sinful as his fingers.

“Oh, god, more,” you begged as he hit your sweet spot.

“Oh, imagine if your boys walked out of that bar right now and found you coming hard on my fingers,” he rasped against your lips, adding another digit. “That’d be terrible for you.”

“I’m their boss. They wouldn’t dare to say a word. But you?“ a heated chuckle left your lips. “If your daddy dearest found out you were fingers deep in my pussy, you’d sleep in the doghouse. Literally.”

He halted his movements, pulling away to look at you. A dark shade of green stared back at you. He slipped his fingers out of you.

“Dean,” you whined. “Don’t.”

“You got a mouth on ya, huh?”

“And I could put it to good use if you give me what I want,” you licked your lips and searched for his. Your hand traveled down his body, stopping on the impressive bulge on his jeans. “And I know you want it.”

“Yeah, but tonight is not about me, sweetheart,” he growled.

Without warning, he slammed back inside you, three fingers deep in your cunt. You gasped, clinging to him. The heel of his hand pressed to your clit, rubbing it in tandem with his hungry fingers. You groaned into his mouth. Dean smirked.

“C’mon, you’re almost there,” he whispered.

Your hips circled, the need of him growing inside you. You kissed him fiercely, claiming his lips the same way his fingers claimed your pussy. A low groan vibrated in his throat. Your fingers tugged to his hair painfully, nails brushing his scalp.

“Oh, fuck,” you cried out. “Oh, fuck,” his lips shushed you. Your body trembled as the coil tightened.

The rustling sound made you push Dean away quickly, your head snapping to look around.

“Dean-”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing, we’re alone,” he said, kissing a trail down your jaw to your neck.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he whispered.

His fingers curled.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “Harder.”

The pad of his fingers stroked your g-spot, and you whimpered. The scent of his aftershave overflowed you; your mind became fuzzy.

“Dean,” his name spilled from your lips in a cry.

Your nails raked over his hair, your face buried in the curve of his neck. You kissed his warm skin. Dean moaned as your teeth nibbled over his sensitive spot.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he said in a husky whisper. “I need you to come for me.”

His fingers pounded into you as your thighs clenched around his wrist. The coil snapped, and your blood turned into a coursing fire. Your walls fluttered around him.

“Fuck, Dean,” you cried out his name.

Your ass lifted from the hood of the car as your arms and legs wrapped around him, pressing you to his body. Your hips rolled against his hand. You squeezed his ceasing fingers. Shockwaves ripped through your body.

“Holy shit,” you giggled once your vision came back.

Dean chuckled as the cries of his name turned into a fit of drunken giggles. He dragged his fingers out of you. His glistening digits reached his plump lips. He sucked them clean.

“You’re so pretty,” you sighed, cupping his face.

Dean smiled, green eyes shining.

“And you’re drunk,” he chuckled.

“Maybe,” you giggled, pecking his lips. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re pretty.”

“Good,” he smiled against your mouth.

Dean helped you hop out of the hood of the car. Your legs wobbled, and he chuckled.

“Don’t laugh,” you slapped his shoulder, giggling. “This is your fault.”

He pulled up your pants before buttoning your jeans.

“Such a gentleman.”

“Always,” he winked.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him for a kiss. Your lips were soft against his. Dean parted too soon, resting his forehead to yours.

“We should get you home,” he sighed, frustrated.

“Yeah, I know.”

“If I could, I’d drive you home, but I don’t wanna die tonight.”

“That would be terrible,” you chuckled, looking down at your body pressed to him. “Just so you know, I hang out here at Benny’s every Thursday around seven.”

“That’s really good to know,” he smirked.

“I’m usually free on the weekends,” you added. “And sometimes, I get out of town for a couple of days. Alone.”

“I can get out of town for a couple of days,” Dean chuckled, pecking your lips. “And I’m sure we can work things out so we can have a real first date.”

“That we can.”

“And until you and my dad make things right, we’ll keep this a secret, okay?”

“I like secrets,” your lips curled into a smirk. “Everything is hotter when you have to hide it.”

“Okay, hot stuff,” Dean chuckled. ”You better get back in that bar before someone decides to come after you and kill me in the process.”

“I thought I’d get to take care of you tonight,” you pouted, hand shooting down to his erection. Dean groaned, closing his eyes.

“It pains me to say this, but it’ll have to be some other time. When there’s no alcohol involved.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes.

“But, hey,” his finger lifted your chin to look at him. “I’ll take care of myself when I get home, and I’ll make sure you know how I did it.”

“How will you do that?” you bit your lip.

“You can give me your number, for starters. Maybe I’ll call you, or maybe I’ll just send you something, so you’ll know I was well taken care of.”

“I like the sound of that,” you smiled mischievously. “C’mon, gimme your phone.”

He pulled his phone from his pockets and handed it to you. With fast fingers, you typed your number and saved it.

“There you go.”

“I like this,” Dean chuckled as he read the name you saved your contact under. “Hot stuff. It suits you damn well.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Okay, you better get going inside,” he said, the smile vanishing from his face. “Just please, no more drinking tonight.”

“Nah, I’ll just tell the guys I’m tired, and they’ll drive me home.”

“Good. Let me know when you get home.”

“Mmhmm,” you leaned on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to him on a passionate, lasting kiss. “Good night, Dean.”

“Night, Y/N.”

Dean watched as you made your way inside the bar on shaky legs. His body started missing your warmth by the time the door shut. He drove back to his place with a smile on his lips. You were the reason behind that smile, and Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to shake it off his lips for the rest of the night.

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“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” it was your time to roll your eyes. “C’mon, Dean, there's a motel in a few miles. We can crash there. I'm tired. I desperately need my beauty sleep and my feet hurt and I need out of these uncomfortable clothes.”

“Well, my head hurts from hearing you ramble, but I'm not complaining, am I?” he glanced at you, pursing his lips.

“It's late and it's raining. Do you really want to put Baby through this rain? I bet she's cold.”

“Nah, she likes it when it rains. She thinks it's romantic,” his lips pulled up into an asymmetric grin. “If you want to, you can go into the backseat, change into your pjs and get some of your beauty sleep. I promise I won't look while you change. Unless you ask me to.”

“Dean, c’mon.”

“If I pull up at the motel and we crash there for the night, will you stop whining?”

“I'll never whine again for the rest of my life. Cross my heart.”

“Hey, careful there.”

“Please,” you batted your eyelashes. “Do it for me. I know that, deep down in that cold heart of yours, you love me.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “You won.”

“Have I mentioned you are the bestest friend in the world?” you grinned.

“Nope.”

“Well, you are the bestest friend in the world.”

Dean drove for a few more miles. The rain cracked on the hood of the Impala. The sound was relaxing and lulling. The neon sign greeted you, and Dean turned left to head into the parking lot.

“Really? Mirth Motel? What kind of name is that?” he grunted.

“I don’t know, Dean,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “At this point, I couldn't care less about the name of the motel. As long as it has beds and a shower, it's fine by me.”

Dean took a few turns in the parking lot, struggling to find a spot he could park his car.

“Oh for fucks sake, everyone decided to stay here tonight?”

“Stop complaining,” you nearly whined.

“There isn't a single spot where I can park Baby. There better be a room available for us.”

“Stop being so grumpy. There's a space available right there.”

“Where?”

“There!”

“Thanks,” he huffed.

“You're welcome,” you pouted.

Dean parked the car, cutting off the engine. He sighed and glanced at you.

“We’re far away from the entry,” he pointed out. “There's no way to get inside without getting ourselves wet.”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged. “As long as I get to take a shower as soon as I step foot in there, it's okay.”

“Okay.”

You and Dean climbed out of the car quickly with duffle bags over your shoulders. You made a beeline to the entrance of the building, the rain mercilessly pouring down on you. Dean immediately went to the front desk, some of his wet hair stuck to his forehead. You took a few steps back, grabbing your phone and deciding to text Sam to let him know you had made a stop at a motel.

“Two queens, please,” Dean smiled at the old lady behind the counter. She nodded and checked on the system.

“I’m sorry, dear, we don’t have any room available with two queen-sized beds,” she offered him a sympathetic smile. “But we do have a room that will settle you for the night just fine.”

“Okay,” Dean frowned as the woman handed him the keys with a smirk. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, dear. It's on the second floor. Have fun,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Dean turned to you with wide eyes. You glanced up from your phone.

“All good?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Got it.”

“Great. Shall we?”

Dean gave a short nod and led the way.

“Dude, we’ve been to a lot of crappy motels, but this one takes the cake,” he mumbled as you climbed up the stairs. “Why the hell couldn’t I just park the car and get in a room like every other motel?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but complaining won’t make any difference,” you chided. “And we’re gonna stay here for less than twelve hours. We’re gonna be on the road first thing in the morning, so please, just stop complaining, or I’ll smack your head in the wall.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Dean twisted the key in the lock, swinging the door open. He stepped inside, flicking on the lights; you followed suit. Dean sighed and threw his head back with a roll of his eyes. You frowned with a tilt of your head before looking over his shoulder.

“Of course there’s only one bed,” you blew out a breath. “Are we in a movie? ‘Cause now it certainly feels like we’re in a movie.”

Dean placed his bag on the table; you did the same.

“I expected more from a place called Mirth Motel,” he said. “I am certainly feeling mirthless.”

“Very funny, Dean,” you rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m gonna take a shower now, and when I get out, you better not be in a sour mood.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go get us some burgers. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Grabbing the keys, Dean walked out of the room. You picked up everything you needed and headed to the shower. The water pressure wasn’t nearly as good as the one you had in the bunker, but, right now, it was everything you needed.

By the time Dean got back, you were laying on the right side of the bed - knowing he’d rather sleep on the right -, reading your book. He held the paper bag in one hand and two beers in the other.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, placing the food on the table. “The burgers are still warm, but I think the beers might need to go in the fridge for a bit.”

“Want me to wait for you?”

“Nah, there’s no need to.”

“Okay, I’m waiting for you,” you said, and he chuckled. “What? There’s no fun in eating alone.”

“It’s gonna get cold.”

“We microwave it.”

“Right,” he smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hmm, this delicious,” you nearly moaned, mouthful.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean smiled as he finished his burger, taking a long swig of his beer. “Look, if you want to, I can sleep in the backseat of Baby. I don’t mind. She’s comfy.”

“No, Dean, it’s okay,” you assured him, hand reaching out to his thick forearm. “The bed is big enough for both of us. It’s a king-sized bed, after all. We’d be in trouble if Sam had come with us.”

“Yeah, we would,” he chuckled. “He hogs all the blankets.”

“And all the space. That giant.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“One-hundred percent sure,” you smiled. “Unless you are the one who doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

“Huh? I- uh- of course, I wanna sleep with you,” he stumbled over his words, his voice trembling. You blurt out laughing. “No. I mean- I don’t mind sleeping with you on the same bed. Clothed and all. Not, uh, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and, uh- yeah, not that.”

“Easy, tiger. No need to get all flustered,” you chuckled. The point of his ears turned pink as his cheeks blushed. He took a long gulp of his beer. “For the record, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you. I mean, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and all. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

His wide green eyes lifted at you before averting your face again. Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

“Would you?” you asked.

“Would I what?”

“Mind sleeping with me butt-naked.”

“Oh. No, of course not,” he stammered, shaking his head nervously. “Not even a bit.”

“Good,” you nodded. “It’s good to know we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh- I’m gonna go to sleep then,” he announced, awkwardly standing to his feet. “I’m tired.”

“Okay, you do that. I’ll be right after you.”

“Okay, good. Great.”

Dean locked himself in the bathroom, doing who knows what. You chuckled to yourself with a shake of your head. You loved making him feel embarrassed. Dean would get all cute whenever he felt uncomfortable. His eyes would widen, and he would lose every ability to talk. When his cheeks turned into a bright pink along with the tip of his ears, then everything was chaotic. It was nice to make him blush.

You laid on your back. The mattress wasn’t that comfortable. You didn’t expect it to be memory foam, but you hoped it would be a little comfier than it actually was. Your eyes were glued on the ceiling, your hands over your stomach as your finger tapped the back of your right one. An awkward silence filled the atmosphere as Dean, too, laid on his back without saying a word. His green eyes stared up as he chewed on his lip.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you said quietly, glancing at him.

“The ceiling is moving.”

“What?” you looked up with wide eyes. The ceiling was perfectly still.“Are you high?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I've been staring at it for too long, and now it’s moving.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Thanks, you too,” Dean turned on his side, glancing at you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that shirt.”

“My shirt?” you bit your lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter.

“No, my shirt. You stole it.”

“You don’t remember, do you? You gave it to me as a birthday present.”

“It isn’t your birthday for the next month and a half.”

“You said it was an early gift,” you said firmly.

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I had given it to you,” he said. “But what do I know, right?”

“What do you know,” you licked your lips, turning to him.

“It looks better on you anyway,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, it does.”

Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment, then backed up to your eyes. You drew a sharp intake of breath. His emerald green orbs seemed to unravel all the mysteries of your soul. You swallowed thick, avoiding his gaze. Slowly, Dean’s hand reached to yours under the blankets, his thumb caressed your skin. You looked up at him, his eyes locked in yours. As a way to avoid the growing tension between the two of you, you gave him a playful smirk and placed your feet on his legs.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling away; his hand didn’t let go, though. “Why are your feet so cold?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled innocently “You’re always hot, so now you’re gonna warm my feet since the blanket isn’t doing its job.”

“Jesus, it’s like the feet of a corpse.”

“Hey!” you smacked his shoulder. “Don’t say that.”

“Well, maybe if you wore some pants instead of shorts and actually put on some socks, your feet wouldn't be this cold.”

“You’re not fun, ” you pouted.

“If I had my feet against your shins, you wouldn't be too happy about it either.”

“Just admit you love having me this close to you,” you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.

“G’night, Y/N,” he turned his back on you.

“My feet are still cold,” you whined. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know. Use my calves maybe. Just don’t put those dead feet on my back.”

“Can I put them on your ass? I bet it would get them warm pretty quick.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbled, you could almost hear his eyes rolling.

“Is that a yes or a no?” you insisted.

“That’s a no. Now shut it and go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Good night, Dean.”

Eventually, your feet got warm, and you pulled away from Dean. Some time, in the middle of the night, he found your back turned to him and decided to snuggle closer. His strong arm draped over your waist, knees tucked behind yours. Dean was laying on his back when the sun rose, and you rested your head on his chest, his arms once again securing you close. Of course, none of you would talk about waking up in each other's arms for the next four hours you’d be in the car. Perhaps you would only mention it once you were back at the bunker, forced to face what was said and done at the Mirth Motel.

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“Yeah, you're too distracting,” he rasped, warm breath fanning at your neck. “Dancing like that, you knew things could only end in one way.”

“No, Dean,” you half-chuckled half-gasped when he slid one finger inside you. “The music. It's killing the mood.”

Dean looked up at you, green eyes wide under furrowed brows. His movements ceased.

“What?”

“It’s annoying,” you grimaced. “Plus, I've always thought you were gonna fuck me through your Led Zeppelin cassette, not Kiss.”

“I’m having the time of my life here and you wanna talk about background music?”

“No, it's just-”

“Let's not kill the mood here, alright?” you nodded. “Next time I'll make sure there's no music playing. For now, lemme work my magic.”

“You're an idiot, you know that?” you laughed.

“Yeah, but you're still with me, so I win.”

Dean smiled against your lips before capturing them in a searing kiss. You moaned against him when he added another digit, hips bucking against his hand. His thumb circled your clit. The pace was torturous, making you claw at his skin. His thick fingers curled and stroked your sweet spot frantically. The coil inside you snapped as your body quivered under him, fingers digging into the freckled skin of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you cried out.

Green eyes met your lust-hooded ones. Dean smirked.

“See? All you had to do was focus on me.”

“You cocky son of a bitch,” you chuckled.

“I got reason to be,” he winked.

Dean dragged the tip of his cock along your folds lazily. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Don’t tease,” a whine left your lips. “Please.”

Dean lined his cock with your entrance, pushing inside. His hips slammed into you, forcing your body on the backseat as you gasped. Your legs hooked around his waist, hands splayed on his back. His hazy eyes met yours, the darkness of the car matching the many dark shades of green in his orbs. Dean thrust harder into you, eyes locked in yours as you threw your head back.

His thrusts became erratic. He shoved his hand between your bodies, fingers circling your clit. Orgasm rippled through your body; you shuddered beneath his touch. His name fell off your lips in an ecstatic moan. You clenched around him, triggering his own orgasm.

“Ngh- oh fuck,” his lips ghosted over your neck as his cum painted your pulsing walls.

Once you both rode your high, he pulled away, shifting so he could lay in the sticky backseat with you on top of him.

I wanna rock and roll all nite and party every day

Dean chuckled as the music echoed in the car.

“Yeah, no music next time.”

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It was frustrating, to say the least when you didn’t even remember the guy’s appearance. You could only hope a glimpse of his face would come back to you. You took one last glance at him before getting up. You nearly choked when your eyes landed on the small scar on the side of his hip. There was no way in hell you wouldn’t recognize that scar. You were the one who stitched him up back then. Clothes formed a trail on the floor, you scooped them up and dressed as fast and as quiet as you could. Your heart was almost leaping out of your chest by the time you walked out of the room.

Outside of the motel, you allowed your breath to even and your heart to calm down in your chest. His car was parked only a few feet away. You ignored the shining impala and made your way back to the bunker. It wasn’t the first time you came to this particular motel so you knew the way.

It was early. Dean never wakes up before noon after a night at a bar. You had enough time to get home, shower, and take a nap before he came back. You could only hope he’d remember as much as you did. Nothing. The thought of ruining your friendship with Dean had your palms sweating. It was undeniable that you felt something for him. Those feelings were buried way too deep and throughout the years you learned how to live with them. He didn’t make it any easier on you though. Dean was constantly flirting with you. In the beginning, it was tough to be around him. Dean’s a flirt. Every now and then he’d give you his signature smirk and wink followed by a flirty comment. Although it caused a weak in your knees, you figured it was best to keep your feelings to yourself rather than risk losing him.

Arriving at the bunker, you made your way to the war room, hoping to find one of your best friends. There was no sign of Sam. You figured he’d either be on his morning run or making breakfast. It wasn’t even eight yet, so he must be home.

“Hey you,” you smiled, leaning on the fridge.

“Hey,” he greeted as he finished making his sandwich. “I didn’t expect you to be back already.”

“Yeah, I know. Just missed my bed I guess.”

“Dean’s not home yet. Did you hear from him?”

“Nope,” you were grateful he had his back to you and wouldn’t catch you lying.

“Do you want me to make you something?” He turned to you, hazel eyes widening as they roamed over your entire body. “You okay? You've been crying?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Your mascara or eyeliner, I don’t know, is a little smudged.”

“Oh,” your fingertips touched the skin under your eyes softly. You left in such a hurry that you didn’t even look in the mirror. “Guess that’s what happens when you sleep with makeup on,” you shrugged. “Alright, I’m gonna take a shower then take a nap. Trust me, I need it.”

“Okay, you do you.”

You headed straight to the shower. The need to wash off the guilt and fear of ruining your thirteen-year friendship grew stronger by the second. You could only hope those feelings would be dispelled down the drain along with the stink of alcohol and sex. The water felt good on your tired body. You didn’t take long in there though. Every cell in your body claimed to be in bed again. You needed at least two more hours of sleep to survive the rest of the day. That and being away from Dean for twenty-four hours both physically and psychologically. Mission impossible.

Your eyes fell closed the second your body hit the soft mattress. Memory foam hugged your limbs, lulling you to sleep.

The headboard banged against the wall. Your mind was in a haze of alcohol and pleasure. Dean’s groans sounded distant. His hands were all over your body. His thrusts were erratic as he searched for the final push. You arched against him, breasts pressed to his firm chest. He whispered soft praises against your skin as a wave of pleasure consumed you.

Your eyes shot open as you sat in bed abruptly. Beads of sweat covered your forehead. Pulling the covers off, you got up, making a beeline to the bathroom. You washed your face in an attempt to get rid of the images of last night. It was in vain. The mirror only reflected how screwed you were. As if the images and the sounds running wild in your mind weren’t enough, your cleavage was covered in hickeys. You closed your eyes and suddenly you were back in that cheap motel room.

Dean’s lips kissed and sucked every patch of skin they could. Your hand shot to his head, fingers tugging at his hair. He groaned against the curve of your neck. His lips descended to your collarbone. Dean marked your skin as his hand squeezed your breast softly. He drunkenly mumbled “mine” against you.

Shaking the memory away, you turned off the tap and headed to your room. It was early which meant you had high chances of not seeing Dean. You just needed to eat and take a pill for the pounding headache. Then you could come back and hide in your room for the rest of the day. Pulling on a hoodie, you made your way to the kitchen.

“You’re awake,” Sam greeted. “Thought you were gonna sleep for the rest of the morning.”

“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, turning on the coffee maker before grabbing some bacon in the fridge for you to cook. “I wanted to, but I had a bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you shrugged.

“I found us a case,” he announced as you sat in front of him with a plate and a mug in your hands. “Omaha, Nebraska. I think it’s a spirit. A quick salt and burn will do it.”

“Good. When do we leave?” you asked, munching the crispy bacon.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“And, uh, do you mind if it’s just you and Dean on this one? Eileen and I have a date tomorrow and uh-“

“Yeah, s-sure. I don’t mind going alone with Dean. I mean… Why would I mind? It’s not like we haven’t been on hunts just the two of us.”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” you tried to keep your voice as normal as you could, but failed miserably. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one acting weird.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I need to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Last night I didn’t come home because I was with Dean. After you left the bar, we had a few more drinks. A lot more. And we slept together.”

“Finally,” he breathed out and you gasped at his reaction. “I just don’t understand why you guys went to a motel instead of coming home.”

“The motel was closer and we were kinda in a hurry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said as you finished your breakfast.

“Why didn’t he come home with you?”

“I panicked when I saw him sleeping next to me. I practically ran out of the room. I think he won’t remember a thing. At least I hope he doesn’t.”

“Why? You’ve known each other for thirteen years. You have feelings for each other for at least ten. I’m surprised it took this long for something to happen.”

“You don’t understand, Sam,” you shook your head. “I can’t ruin my friendship with him. I can’t risk that.”

“Of course you can. You’re just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Dean asked as he walked into the room. You nearly gasped. He shouldn’t be back already.

Dean was sporting a hickey on the right side of his neck. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of it.

“I’m afraid of spiders and I can’t kill them,” you said fast before Sam could say anything.

Dean only hummed, opening the fridge and grabbing a pot with overdue food. He put some in his mouth but spat most of it, grimacing. A chuckle left your lips at the scene.

“What you got?” he mumbled, turning on the coffee machine.

“Salt and burn. Omaha, Nebraska. Should be easy for you and Y/N.”

“You not tagging along?”

“Nah, got a date with Eileen,” Sam smiled.

“You’re finally getting some,” the older Winchester teased. “Y/N and I can cover it. We are a great team, right sweetheart?”

He gave you a wink. You wondered if he remembered anything of your activities the previous night.

“Right,” you clicked your tongue.

Dean grabbed his coffee and sat beside you. He stank of alcohol and sex. He should’ve gone straight to the shower but he didn’t. He was still in the same clothes as last night for crying out loud.

“Dude, you smell terrible,” Sam grimaced.

“That, Sammy, is the smell of a man who had a crazy night of hot sex. You should try it sometime.”

Fuck, he remembers, you cursed.

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a shame I had what was probably the best night of my life and I don’t remember shit. Not even her face. She left without a note. She could at least have left her phone number somewhere. But she did leave this bad boy here,” he pointed to the purple mark in his neck.

You could only hope neither of them would notice your flaming cheeks. He was so close. You were afraid he’d take one look at your face and all the memories would come back to him. You were afraid he’d still be able to smell his scent ingrained in your skin.

“I do remember some things though. Hmmm, some really good things,” Dean nearly moaned as he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Sam quickly glanced at you, hazel eyes wide before staring back at his brother. “Whoever she was she surely knew what she was doing to me. Her body was trapped under mine as if she belonged there. Her hands all over my body, exploring it. Oh, and her skin felt so good under my touch. That I remember damn well.”

You fought hard to repress a moan. The words rolled out his tongue in a sensual song. Your thighs clenched unwittingly. Though you were as much aroused as you were embarrassed. He was saying all that in front of his brother after all. Sam didn’t want to know anything about Dean’s activities, but the look in his eyes told you he was having fun seeing you suffer.

“And she smelled good too. So fucking good. I swear that if I close my eyes, I can feel her touch. I can even hear her soft moans. What wouldn’t I give just to know her name.”

“Maybe you should try asking the bartender if he remembers her face or even her name,” Sam suggested and you kicked his foot under the table. “I’m sure he might remember something.”

“She felt absolutely perfect,” Dean completely ignored his brother. “The way her fingers tugged at my hair, making it hurt just a little. Then her legs wrapped around me and… fuck,” he growled. “That was mind-blowing. She clenched around me so tight-”

“Dude, too much information. You should keep that to yourself,” Sam interrupted his brother while you prayed neither of them had listened to the small groan that left your lips.

“All I’m saying is she was too fucking hot. I wished she could’ve had the decency of leaving me her number,” he sighed. “If you guys think this hickey is the only thing she left for me, you’re wrong. She might not have left a note, but she did leave some real sexy marks all over me. Hmm, I love it when they mark me up. So damn hot.”

“Dude-“

“And if I concentrate hard enough I can still taste her in my tongue,” Dean smirked.

“That’s enough, man. I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction and took one last gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

“Excuse me, but I, uh, I’m gonna take a nap. I’m tired,” you hurriedly stood from your seat. “I’ll catch with you guys later.”

As you disappeared in the hall, Dean’s grin got even wider as he shook his head. Sam scoffed, realization dawned on him.

“You remember, don’t you?” Sam asked his brother, a smile on his lips.

“Every single detail,” Dean nodded with a smirk.

“Dude, you aren’t worth a penny.”

“What can I say? I love seeing her squirm.”

“You should go after her.”

“I am,” Dean said. “I’m just gonna give her some time to pull herself together.”

Sam nodded. Silence fell between the brothers. Each of them lost in their own world. Dean tried to come up with a way to approach you without making it weird. Sam tried to erase the images his brother put in his mind. The younger Winchester was sure he threw up in his mouth a little. Dean had given him a share of traumas concerning sex when they were teenagers and now this?

Dean got up from his seat and before he headed to your bedroom, he placed his mug on the dishwasher. He was about to leave the kitchen but stopped and glanced at his brother.

“You were the only one who didn’t score last night, Samuel,” he teased and Sam rolled his eyes.

Three soft knocks on the door startled you, dragging you out of your trance. Mumbling a “c’mon in”, you straightened yourself at the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, peeking his head through the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, a thumping beat of your heart in your chest.

Dean made his way to your bed and sat just a few inches from you. His thigh brushing against yours.

“How’re you feeling?” He glanced at you but your eyes were fixated on the closed door.

“Really tired. You?”

“Exhausted. Don’t know if I should take a shower or a nap.”

“I think you need both,” you smiled as a chuckle reverberated in his throat.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he clicked his tongue, green eyes falling in his hands as he rubbed them together. “You know, I must confess that you did rock my world last night.”

“You remember?” You stared at him wide eyed only to meet a crooked grin on his lips. “Of course you do,” groaning, you buried your face in your hands.

“How could I ever forget?”

“We had a lot of drinks. A whole lot.”

“Yeah, guess I just needed to get my ass drunk to finally go after something I wanted.”

“Don’t do this, Dean,” you pleaded, staring into his forest green eyes.

“I thought last night meant something, you know? I thought it would change things between us for the best. I couldn’t believe I was the only one feeling something. Not with the way we look at each other and the constant flirting and the way we hold each other. Now imagine my disappointment when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Dean, I-“

“I thought you were gonna be there. I thought we were gonna talk and figure things out between us, but you didn’t even give me a chance. It felt as if you regretted it, as if what happened between us was a mistake,” his voice was low, barely upon a whisper.

“No, Dean, I don’t regret it,” you shook your head. “It wasn’t a mistake but we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why? Why shouldn't we have done it? Give me one good reason why.”

“Because we are friends and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“We were never friends, Y/N. I feel something for you from day one. And I know you feel something for me too. Now you either-“

You captured his plump lips in yours. His eyes widened and it took him a second before kissing you back. His hand cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek. The gentle press of his lips almost made your heart leap out of your chest. He pulled away a little too soon for your liking. Dean placed a small peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“Now I either what?” You giggled, opening your eyes and finding his still closed.

“I don’t know,” Dean chuckled. “Guess this changes things, right?”

“Mmhmm,” your hands were on each side of his neck as you pecked his lips.

“Good.”

“I hate to tell you but you need a shower.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said sheepishly, his hands were on your waist as he moved you to straddle his lips. “But I think you should come with me. You know, that whole save water, shower together thing.”

“Hmmm, I’ve kinda already showered.”

“Do it again. I promise you won’t regret it,” he smirked.

“I thought you said you hated shower sex. You said it was too complicated.”

“I don’t hate it. It is complicated though, but I’m sure we can work things out,” he grinned, standing up with you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “‘Sides, you ought to see all the damage you caused last night.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Winchester.”

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Forevers: @hobby27​ @thewinchesterandreidwhore

“And I'm wanted dead or alive,” he sang, the sweetest voice under his breath.

“Well, I hope you didn't kill anyone or something,” you chuckled, startling him.

Wide green eyes stared back at you. His features softened, and he smiled. You were a lost cause.

“That was terrible,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“It wasn't as terrible as you glued to the jukebox in a house full of people,” you countered.

He chuckled sheepishly, taking a large gulp at his beer.

“I like it here.”

“So what you're saying is that rock is better than everyone in this room?” you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Pretty much everyone,” he shrugged playfully.

“I can assure you I'm way better than rock.”

“I don't know,” he shook his head, dirty blond hair spiking everywhere. “You don’t seem better than Bon Jovi.”

“How dare you?” you gasped, hand over your heart. “So what’s your name Mr. I Love Rock ‘n Roll?”

“That don't matter,” he said with a shrug, averting your eyes.

“Of course it does.”

“Hey, Dean! Get your ass over here,” the guys called and he sighed defeated.

“You should go to your boys,” you smirked. “Dean.”

His name rolled out of your tongue.

“Just know that we're not done yet, Y/N,” he winked before walking away and leaving you dumbstruck.

For the next hour, you and Dean stole looks at each other. He’d shoot you a wink and you’d bite your bottom lip.

“Here he comes,” Emma muttered.

“You mind if I steal your friend for a lil bit?”

“She's all yours.”

Dean took you by the hand, dragging you along the house. He opened the door to one of the rooms and pushed you inside.

“You not even gonna buy me dinner first?” you smirked.

Your back hit the wall as his lips claimed yours. Warm hands cupped your face, his body pressed to you. Dean teased your mouth open, tongue tracing your bottom lip. Your fingers tugged at his hair and he groaned. You parted momentarily.

Dean pressed his lips to yours once again firm, then gentle. His hands traveled down your body, fingers digging in your hips. He kissed down your neck, nibbling softly at your skin.

A knock on the door caused you to pull away.

“Fuck,” he groaned, chest heaving. His half-lidded eyes gazed hungrily at you.

“Y/N, you coming home with me or not?” Emma asked.

Panting, you replied high-pitched, “I’m coming.”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask! 

Forevers: @hobby27 @thewinchesterandreidwhore @tatted-trina6 @doozywoozy @mogaruke @babypink224221​