#soft dean

dean goes to the trunk.

he comes back with a blanket you have never seen before, a smaller fleece thing that was definitely underneath the blanket you have also never seen, and a hoodie that's possibly sam's but he's been evicted so the point is moot.

he stacks them. he adjusts the jacket so the collar folds back. he tests the angle of the headrest, decides against it, finds a rolled-up flannel from somewhere in the door pocket and tucks it into the corner.

all of this takes approximately ninety seconds.

he steps back, looks at what he's built, then he looks at you.

you're already half asleep standing next to the car. you register: backseat, soft, dean holding the door open. so you get in, and you're lights out before he closes it.

dean gets back in the driver's seat. sam gets in after him, brushing gravel off his jacket, and buckles his seatbelt without saying a single word.

they drive. two miles pass.

"you have a hoodie in the trunk," sam says.

"yeah."

"and two blankets."

"so?"

"dean. i've been cold on stakeouts, multiple times. you've told me to think warmer thoughts."

dean doesn't answer. he's watching the road like it owes him something. both hands on the wheel, which is already unusual. the speed is strange too — sam clocks it at four, five under.

dean does a lot of things wrong behind the wheel of this car. going slow isn't one of them.

"you're driving like someone's grandpa," sam says.

"road's uneven."

"it's a highway."

"there's wildlife."

"dean."

nothing. sam looks out the window and comes back to look at his brother, who has the most painfully private expression on his face — jaw loose, eyes soft, one corner of his mouth doing something that sam is going to process later in the privacy of his own head.

giddy is the word. dean's driving five under the speed limit and trying not to look giddy about it.

sam pinches the bridge of his nose.

behind them, you shift, pull the blanket up. dean's eyes go to the rearview mirror for half a second. back to the road with mouth doing the grumbling thing again.

"dean," sam says, very carefully.

"don't."

"i'm not saying anything."

"good. keep not saying it."

another mile. the highway is empty and the radio's off, which has maybe happened twice in sam's life. he's not going to examine why it's off right now because he already knows.

"they're asleep," dean says. not to sam specifically, more to the windshield.

"yeah," sam says. "i know. i watched you build them a nest."

"it's not a nest."

"you found a travel pillow, dean."

"it was in the trunk —"

"from where —"

"it was just there, sam, some stuff just accumulates —"

you make a small sound in the back, as you settled deeper. dean's sentence stops mid-word.

the rearview again. two seconds this time.

sam closes his eyes, and opens them. outside, a mile marker goes by at a stately, considerate pace.

"if you wake them up," dean says, low, almost to himself, "i will leave you on this road."

"you're going forty-three miles an hour," sam says. "i think they're fine."

dean doesn't answer. he just drives, careful as anything, while the road rolls out ahead of them and you sleep through all of it — through the blanket he apparently owns, through sam's suffering, through whatever is happening in the front seat that dean will never in his life put a name to.

his thumb taps once on the steering wheel, then stops.

forty-three miles an hour.

sam looks out the window and decides, firmly, that this isn't his problem tonight.

$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @hisokamywaifu @elarapheonix

$ join taglist

His thumb slowly stroked along the curve of your waist where you were sprawled across him. The movement was absent-minded, grounding. He shook his head. "Bite isn't enough. You've gotta ingest blood too."

You scrunched your nose. "Ew."

Dean chuckled, the low sound rumbling beneath you.

Your fingers drifted lower, pausing over the black ink of the anti-possession tattoo on his left pec. You trace the edges of it slowly, studying the faint freckles scattered across his skin, the small nicks and imperfections only visible up close.

"You know," you murmured, "for a hunter... you have less scars than I expected."

Dean shrugged. "Perks of having an angel for a best friend."

"But scars are part of life," you said softly. "Something you can't really take away."

Dean's hand stilled on your waist. "Just 'cause you can't see them," he said quietly, "doesn't mean they aren't there."

Your finger stopped tracing his tattoo. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his eyes. The weight behind his words hung heavy between you. You knew what he meant. Knew the things he carried that didn't leave marks on skin.

Hell.

Loss.

Guilt.

The quiet belief he was somehow too broken to deserve peace. But when you looked at him, that wasn't what you saw. You saw someone who kept getting back up. Someone who kept fighting even when the world knocked him down again and again. Someone who was strong, brave and worth loving.

Without breaking eye contact, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the small scar on his sternum. Then the faint marks on his neck. Your lips brushed softly against sensitive skin, lingering for just a second longer.

Dean inhaled sharply as you move to his arm, pressing a kiss to the thin scar just beneath the crease of his elbow—the one from the angel-banishing sigil.

Your fingers smoothed over the skin before your lips followed.

Every mark.

Every story.

You kissed them like they were something precious.

Dean watched you the entire time, emerald eyes wide with quiet disbelief.

Like he didn't quite know what to do with the softness of it.

He just kept looking at you like you'd done something impossible.

You'd taken every scar he hated and turned it into something soft and meaningful.

A/N: Also that gif! How is a man that beautiful!!!!!!!

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All he’s ever wanted was a family. People to love and that love him back.

He’ll take care of you. Be damn perfect for you. Cause he sure as shit ain’t letting you go.

Only then did it hit him as how far out of his depths his is. Hes never lived with a girlfriend for more than a weekend and he’s never dated a hunter, well for more than a night. And now he’s doing both. He hated seeing you get hurt on hunts before, but now? He’d burn the world down for you. Maybe they should quit. Would you like that? He can’t exactly buy a place in the suburbs, but there’s plenty of old hunter cabins. He could fix one up for you?

Before he could dive deeper into his self doubt, you whined in your sleep. His breath caught, are you in pain again? But then you mumbled “mine” again and your soft hands tried to pull at him.

He chuckled low, barely a breath, as he pulled you closer. He liked you needy. He knows exactly how to help you then.

Once you’ve settled back into deep sleep on his chest, he pulls out his phone determined to know everything about periods. And how to help you with yours.

And what he finds is very interesting.

There’s the stuff he expected: heat for the cramps, lots of hydrating, lots of rest.

There’s the stuff he didn’t really get: no caffeine but also that caffeine helps, no cheese or chocolate but also that’s all you’ll want, exercise helps a lot but he’s pretty sure you would shoot him if he told you to go work out.

But the best thing he found? That orgasms help, a lot. Especially with bad periods. Especially with painful cramps.

He ended up on some Reddit forum where people talked about how they help their girls with their periods. And damn if they don’t go into some explicit detail.

Dean’s cock is rock hard, squished in his jeans. But he doesn’t dare try and relieve the tension, not with the way you're pressed into his chest.

Eventually, he falls asleep around you. The lights are still mostly on. He’s still fully dressed. He’s still rock hard. Dreaming about making you feel better with his cock.

———

You jolt awake with a gasp, and are surprised to find Dean still leaning up against the headboard.

His eyes pop open a second after yours and those mesmerizing green eyes are warm with affection as they stare down at you.

“Mornin honey” he rasped, voice low and heavy with sleep. And it rumbles down your spine and low into your belly, heating you from the inside out.

“Hi” you whisper out, suddenly shy. You basically claimed each other last night, does that mean you’re like together now? You really fucking hope so, cause you’re pretty sure you can’t deny your feeling for him any longer.

His sinful full lips curl into a lazy smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead. A soft sigh escapes you at his gentle touch and your fingers tighten in his flannel.

“How d’ ya feel?”

Right…he’s cuddling you because of your period. Because of your many freak outs. Maybe what he said last night was just to calm you down.

You puff out a frustrated sigh and flop to your back, turning out of his arms.

Dean shifts with you though, turning to lean over you. You’re practically nose to nose. You could lean up to kiss him with barely a stretch of your neck. But what if he rejects you? Cause you’re pretty sure that would actually kill you.

“You’re my girl now honey, don’t hide from me”

“Yeah?” It comes out as a whisper. A breath against his lips, and you can’t help but look at his. So close to yours.

“Yeah” he rasps back “ y’ called me yours yesterday. Can’t get rid of me now”

You close the distance with a kiss before you even think about it. Just a feather light dusting of your lips against his.

Dean groans against you. His hand finds your jaw and he just holds you still. Covering you in a blanket of gentle kisses.

He pulls back a second later and you can’t help the little whine that leaves your throat.

He chuckles, low and dark, and it rumbles down your spine, curling your toes. “ y’ can have s’more when you answer my question honey”

“What question?”

His lips twitch with a hint of a smile. “I was askin how you feel”

Oh. Duh. Shame and embarrassment swirls in you crowding out the lust that was burning low in your core. You wish you could curl under the blankets and hide but he’s got that massive hand curled around your jaw, holding you close.

“I dunno. I can’t really tell til I get up.”

“I read the second day is worse, is yours like that?” His voice is low, sweet like you’ve never heard before. The backs of your eyes are burning with unshed tears.

Fucking hormones.

You manage a weak nod, but when sadness fills Dean’s gaze you’re quick to add “but I’m really fine. You don’t have to stay here and baby me. There’s a case. Wait, where’s Sam?”

But then he brushes his thumb against your jaw like he did yesterday and your brain just melts to goo.

You blink up at him dumbly, watching this sexy man who is calling you his. Completely putty in his hands, you’re not even aware that he shut you up and quieted your panic with a brush of his thumb.

After a moment, Dean’s callused grasp slips lower to the hollow of your throat. Like his hand is your own personal necklace

“Shh sweetheart. ‘m gonna take care of you and you’re gonna let me. Sammy’s got the case. And he’ll sleep in Baby til another room opens up. Okay?”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks immediately. Dean fucking Winchester gave up a case for you. Gave up his beloved car (for a day at least) for you. He really does like you. God this just makes you like him even more. He’s so damn good.

“Shh pretty… save ya tears hmm? You can cry on my cock later if you’re good” His hand leaves your throat to brush away the tears. Gentle fingers hardly matching his dirty words

Your breath catches on a gasp. Tears immediately forgotten. “If I’m good?”

He chuckles low, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Wanna be good f’me?”

Fuck. Yes. You’d be so good for him. A desperate little whine left your throat. Before you remembered you can’t even play right now. God dammit fucking period. “Can’t. ‘M still bleeding”

“Ya know I was researchin periods and stuff and orgasms are supposed to help lots with your pain.”

Adoration courses through your body. A different softer deeper kind of warmth, from Dean doing research for you. He’s just so fucking good to you. And you’ve been kinda together for only like 8 hours, and you’ve been passed out for most of them.

But then his words click in. Dean doesn’t care that you’re bleeding. He wants you anyways. He wants to make you cum to help with the bleeding.

You don’t know whether to cry from how sweet he’s being or mount him. You swallow back your storm of emotions.

“Is that so? Seems like a scholarly article you found”

He snorts out a huff of a laugh, “was educational”

“And you’re volunteering to help me? Such a gentleman”

Dean lets outs a grumbling sort of sound. One that’s not quite a disagreement but not exactly a sound of assent. “ ’m gonna take care of ya, remember?” He says with a smirk, before it softens into a gentle smile. “ ’ve waited a damn long time for y’ sweetheart, and y’re finally mine. Can’t blame a guy for hopin he can cure ya with orgasms”

Your head and heart and pussy flutter with his confession. His possession. His gentle affection he must have been saving for you.

“Oh” it’s comes out breathy, even to your ears “okay then”

“Mhmm. But now we’re gonna get up and you’re gonna eat something. And you’re gonna tell me how you’re feeling”

His sweet control makes everything you’re feeling even more intense. You desperately want to be good for him.

You slowly rolled away from him and climbed out of bed. Pain cinched low in your stomach the second you were sitting up, making your breath puff out in a harsh exhale.

Dean was pressed against your back a second later. Warm calloused hands ghosted over your waist, knees bracketing your hips. “Cramps?”

“Just a little twinge from sittin up” you murmured, leaning back to him. Words contradicting your action.

You were tempted to tuck back into his chest and lay back down, where the throbbing pain had finally eased. But you were determined to follow his command.

You gently pushed up to standing, his palms gliding across you as you broke contact. You held your breath with the first step, expecting the worst, but other than a general whole body achiness you felt okay.

You snatched your bag and went to the bathroom, only once you were washing your hands the cramps returned with force. Definitely stronger than yesterday.

You gasped and leaned forward, bracing on the sink. Unaware of the water still running, or of Dean opening the bathroom door behind you.

——

Dean coddled you the rest of the morning, and surprisingly you didn’t hate it. For anyone else you would have argued, fought back, clung to your independence. But Dean wasn’t treating you like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. He acted like he needed to help you.

And if you were being honest, you needed the help.

He helped you dress, when you couldn’t bend over without groaning in pain.

He even helped you put on your shoes before you could try to do it yourself.

He offered about a dozen times to go grab food and bring it back for you, but you were insistent that a walk would be good for you. And he walked slowly at your side, letting you clutch at his hand when a painful cramp hit. And then holding it gently in his, the whole rest of the way.

———

Dean didn’t realize how much everything would change now that you were his.

He wanted to carry you to the diner in his arms, sit you on his lap and hand feed you each bite.

He contained his urges, barely. But he couldn’t stop touching you.

He held your hand the whole way to the diner. He sat on the same side of the booth as you. Something he would have rolled his eyes at another couple for, but now he gets it. He needs to be pressed up against you.

And you don’t complain. No, you lean into him.

But each wince and gasp of pain is killing him. He needs to get you back in bed. Even if it’s just for a nap with a heating pad. He needs to do something to actually help.

Dean places an obscenely large to-go order when you two are almost finished, cause no way is he dragging you down the street again. And when it’s finally time to go, he lets you walk on your own until that first wince of pain.

He scoops you up in his arms, pressed chest to chest as your legs wrap around him on instinct. And when you let out a happy sigh of relief, he can finally take a deep breath again.

He carries you all the way back to bed, door kicked shut behind him. Food dropped unceremoniously on the table still covered in all the things he brought you yesterday.

He presses down into the mattress above you. Lips meeting in a gentle kiss, letting you decide what you want.

But when your lips part and your little pink tongue sneaks out to brush against his lips, his control starts to fray. He groans at your taste, maple syrup and salt and you.

Kisses turn desperate, tongues battle, teeth clash, bodies pressed against each other.

Dean’s cock throbs in his jeans, precum already seeping out, but he’s careful not to push you for more. Not when he’s waited so long for you. Not when you’re aching and in pain. But then you press your hips up against his and let out a desperate little whine, he can’t help but groan and grind down into you.

When you break apart to breathe, he licks and kisses across your jaw. Your neck. Your ear. Murmuring praises in between each one.

“so damn pretty sweetheart”

“ ’ve dreamed about this for years, ya know? Ever since I first met ya on that vamp hunt”

“ y’are even more perfect than I dreamed honey”

“Never fucking lettin ya go now”

“Mine”

Each praise, each kiss, and each lick makes your writhe and whine for him. And he can’t believe you're real.

“I wanna try” you breathe out when Dean licks across your collarbone. He stills, eyes darting up to yours, making sure you mean it.

Your cheeks flare a pretty pink under his gaze, and he can’t help but push you a little. “What’d ya wanna try honey?”

The pink deepens and you squirm just a little under him, but you answer anyways. A little whimper of “playing. to…to help with the pain” is all you can manage. And he knows he was right all along. You’re a little submissive, a little soft n sweet, and a little whiny desperate thing. God damn yall are gonna have some fun together.

He groans and kisses you. “I’ll be gentle with ya sweetheart. You just gotta let me love on ya and tell me if anything hurts.” Lips lock back on yours again, somewhere between a vow and a plea.

You pull back with a shy look, cheeks still pink. “You… you don’t think it’s gonna be gross? Or… too messy?”

He doesn’t give a damn about a mess. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but your shy little look stops him.

He sits back slightly, letting you see how serious he is. Eyes never leaving yours, even as he hooks his fingers in your waistband and pulls your soft sweats down. “Wouldn’t suggest this if I did. ‘Sides I’ve been covered head to toe in blood and guts from every piece of shit monster out there. No way is a little of my girl’s blood stopping me”

“Oh” you squeak out, eyes wide. Swallowing hard.

Dean gives you a lazy smirk and finally lets his eyes leave yours.

“Fuckin hell sweetheart” he chokes, voice heavy with lust. “You wearin my boxers?” His fingers trail along the black boxer briefs you stole from his bag

You nodded slow “I… I’m sorry my panties weren’t comfy and -“

Dean presses a big calloused palm over your mouth. “Hush, it’s hot.” He grinds his cock down over your pussy to emphasize his point.

——

Dean surrounds you. Overwhelms you in the best way. You can’t even keep your eyes open at the onslaught of sensation. Stubbled skin scrapes against your jaw. Delicious wet kisses across your throat. Massive callused hands pushed your shirt up, trailing across your skin. Your curves.

Gentle yet urgent.

You can’t help but whine under touch.

He chuckles low, rumbling against your chest. And you eyes flutter open to find him sprawled between your legs. Trailing kisses between your breasts. Green eyes dark with lust, looking up at you though full lashes. Those already full lips, even more sinful kiss bitten.

“Needy little thing hmm? ’ve barely gotten started”

His fingers drag up, each hand cupping your swollen aching breasts. And you moan into his touch. Its a heady combo of relief and pleasure.

Thumbs drag across your painfully hard nipples. Pushing your piercings through. Lightning shoots through your spine at the touch, curling your toes, and making your pussy gush. and for the first time in days the only thing you can focus on is Dean and the delicious pressure coiling low in your core.

“Deeee-“ you whimper out. Back arching to push your tits further into his hold.

He wraps his lips around a sensitive bud. Tongue playing with your piercing, moaning into your skin. Your fingers rake through his hair. Digging into his scalp, to keep him close.

He winds you up, switches breasts. Switches back. Til you’re a whiny whimpering mess under him. And you’re not even fully undressed yet.

“Deann” you beg “Dean, baby, baby pleaseee”

He barely unlatches from you to answer. “Hmm… what do ya need honey”

“To cummm” you whine. Pathetic and desperate.

He just chuckles low and licks at you some more. “Y’ not being very good f’me. I told you to let me love on ya. Lemme take my time hmm? Or y’ gonn make me punish y’ ?”

A pathetic keening sort of noise leaves you as you arch up into him. Because fuck that is so hot. You don’t know if you want to be good or want him to punish you. But you’re so sensitive and overstimulated you can’t do anything but take his slow worship.

Dean had you so worked up you forgot to be self conscious when he dragged his boxers off you and saw your blood stained thighs. And when he dragged out your tampon, you couldn’t help but buck your hips up into him.

“Awesome” he muttered, staring at your puffy aching bleeding cunt.

Stupid man. You rolled your eyes at him.

He used your moment of distraction to shove two thick fingers deep inside you. Making you arch and scream his name.

“Shhh…you’re being such a brat. When I’m just trying to take care of my girl.” Dean coos

Fuck you don’t know if you like him calling you a brat or his girl better. You gushed and clenched around those thick digits of his but he didn’t move them. Just stared at you with that teasing smirk.

“I’ll be good baby. So good for you De please” you babbled. Desperate for him.

“Yeah? Y’ mine. And I’m just trying to take my time making my girl feel good. Y’ gonna let me do that sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically, “yes yes yes!”

He twisted his fingers slightly, making you groan as they slowly dragged against your hypersensitive walls.

You orgasm was so fucking close. If he would do that again you’d probably shatter.

But it’s like he can read your mind, because he stilled his fingers and smirked down at you.

“Ya gonna roll your eyes at me again?”

“No no I’ll be good!” You gasped, pussy clenching around him. Hands coming up to dig into his shoulders.

It felt like hours that he loomed over you, watching you flutter around his fingers (It was probably a single minute) as you babbled about how you’d be good for him and begged him for more, desperately clutching at him.

He finally relented, with a curve of his fingers. Finding your G-spot immediately.

You moaned, thighs shaking, but he didn’t fuck you with his fingers.

No he leaves them pressed into the sensitive nerves, as your body goes haywire. Eyes closed, back arched, chest heaving, legs shaking. Teetering on the edge of your climax.

Dean leans over you, warm breath ghosting against your neck. Making your breath catch.

“Cum f’me honey” he purrs into your ear, as he pushes harder into that sensitive spongey spot.

Your mouth opens on a silent scream as you fall over the edge, your body shakes almost violently through the most powerful orgasm you've ever had.

He finally moved his fingers, gently fucking you through the aftershocks. Prolonging your pleasure as you soak his hand and drip a mess all over the bed.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous” he murmurs kissing your neck gently, as you try and catch your breath. Wiggling your hips in an attempt to get away because he is still thrusting those fingers into you.

“Nuhuh, y’ mine” he groans, sliding to lay next to you freeing up his other hand to hold your hips down.

He doesn’t move faster yet, but harder. His fingers slam inside you, grinding his hand over your clit. Each thrust making those rough fingers drag over your sensitive walls before pushing into your g-spot.

“Deaan” you moan breathing hard, hands coming to clutch at his arms. Nails digging in.

He doesn’t relent. Keeping a slow punishing pace.

The moan of his name turns into a chant. A prayer. As he slowly, methodically, builds you right back up to the edge.

When he licks up the shell of your ear, your orgasm surprises the both of you. You’re fluttering around his fingers, moaning his name, whole body arched up and tight.

Dean chuckles softly against your ear, “Damn honey y’ so sensitive. This just y’ period?”

“No” you gasp once you finally catch your breath, despite the thick fingers still inside you “You… you do this to me”

He groans and captures your lips with his. You are so overwhelmed by everything Dean, you can barely kiss him back.

He trails his lips down your throat, leaving his mark all over you. Making you whimper and twitch and bear down on his thick digits.

He pushes a third finger into you, stretching you out, and starting to slowly thrust his fingers in you again.

“Baby…baby please. Please. Please fuck me” you babble incoherently

“Give me another. Need my pretty girl to cum f’me again first”

It’s no time at all before he has you teetering on the edge. Dean plays your body like he’s done this a million times before. Your heart aches for a single second as you think about all the experience he has.

Then nips at your pulse point and murmurs “I can’t believe you’re finally mine”

And your body melts for him, turning into a whiney babbling shaking mess.

He presses the heel of his hand against your clit and you shatter violently. Squirting a mess all over the two of you.

“Oh there ya’ go” he coos softly “thats my good girl”

You whimper at the praise, “De- pleasee” to overstimulated to get out anything else

“I know honey, I know” he murmurs softly as he finishes undressing you like you are precious.

——

When he finally thrusts into you, he doesn’t ease his way in. He bottoms out in one thrust with a groan of your name. You shatter instantly at the sheer intensity of it all, biting his big muscled bicep as your sensitive pussy tries to milk him dry.

“Fuckkk honey” he grits out between his teeth “Y’ keep squeezin me like this n’ I’m gonna cum”

You can’t stop clenching and fluttering and whining into his thick arm. You're too drunk on Dean and his fat cock splitting you open.

He growls grinding his hips into you making you gasp and release his arm

He sits back on his heels, pulling you up by your hips leaving just your shoulders pressed into the mattress as he bullies your cervix. Each thrust slow. Hard. Claiming

Tears track down your cheeks. Back arching. Body clenched and shaking. You can’t speak. Moaning and gasping and whining at the onslaught of sensations.

He stares down at you with hearts in his eyes, mouth hanging open. Grunting and groaning. Fingers digging into the meat of your hips. Choking out praises as your pussy clutches around him.

Your orgasm is building powerfully with each slow thrust and sweet word.

Suddenly he yanks you up, continuing to thrust into you. One hand against your back, pressing you into him. The other tangles in your hair, pulling your head back just enough for Dean to kiss and nip at your jaw.

He licks up the shell of your ear, groaning. He growls low “mine”

The damn breaks. A scream trapped in your throat. Vision darkening. Body quivering as you pulse around him. Your cunt trying to milk his thick cock into coming with you.

Dean groans, thrusts becoming frantic as his own orgasm nears.

He pulls out just in time, shoving his fat cock between your bodies, as he shutters and coats you both in his warm sticky cum.

———

You’re not quite sure how he got you in the shower, your brain is still sufficiently fried.

You don’t need your brain, you decide, since Dean is wrapped around you under the warm water. He’s holding you up against him with an arm around your middle as he cleans you gently.

“Damn you’re perfect” he murmurs low into your hair. More a thought that slipped out that praise for you, but it melts you all the same.

You whine just a little, and he chuckles. “Y’ comin back t’ me, honey? Almost done. Will get back ‘n bed ‘n a sec, m’kay?”

———

“C’mon pretty girl. Y’ gotta drink a little for me” Dean mumbles into your shoulder between soft kisses.

You’re wrapped up in the clean bed with him now, wearing his shirt. And boxers. And he even helped you with a fresh tampon. Completely unfazed.

You follow his instructions as he coos at you. Until you can lay back down and nuzzle into his bare chest.

You place lazy kisses there. Fingers playing in his chest hair. “Thank you De” you whisper into him

“Y’ my girl sweetheart. ‘M gonna treat ya right. Don’t have t’ thank me” Deans voice is a quiet rumble in his chest. His fingers drawing circles on your back. Coaxing you to sleep

Your eyelids are heavy, quickly finding sleep under his spell. You’re awake just long enough to murmur lazily “Wanna thank you… so good to me…my good boy…Mine”

Dean places a soft kiss in your hair. “Yah’ honey. ‘M yours”

The bunker was quiet when Dean pushed the door open, boots heavy against the floor, the familiar creak echoing down the hall.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he started, shrugging off his jacket

And then he stopped.

“…Huh.”

You were curled up on the couch, TV playing low in the background, legs tucked under you. Your hands were in your hair, carefully working through one of your braids, unraveling it piece by piece.

You glanced up, already smiling a little. “You just gonna stand there or?”

“I...” he huffed a quiet laugh, stepping further into the room. “I’ve just… never seen you do that before.”

“Take my hair down?” you teased.

“Yeah,” he said, slower this time, eyes still on you. “It’s… kinda amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was warmth behind it. “It’s a process, trust me. These took hours to put in.”

He moved closer without really thinking about it, drawn in. “Looks like it,” he muttered, crouching slightly beside the couch.

His gaze followed your fingers, the careful way you unraveled each section.

There was something about it, something quiet, something beautiful.

“…Can I?” he asked suddenly.

You paused, raising a brow. “Can you what?”

“Help,” he said, a little more tentative now. “I mean, if that’s okay. I don’t wanna mess it up or anything.”

You studied him for a second, then smiled softly, a little amused.

“Alright,” you said, shifting so there was space beside you. “But you gotta listen. You can’t just go pulling stuff.”

Dean held his hands up. “Hey, I can follow instructions.”

“I guess we'll find out,” you shot back, but you were already pulling him closer.

He sat down behind you, surprisingly careful, like he was afraid of doing something wrong.

“Okay,” you said, picking up one braid and placing it gently in his hands. “First, you find where it’s secured at the end, and there’s a little knot

Dean leaned in, brow furrowed in concentration. “Alright… I see it.”

“Good. Now loosen it. Gently, just give it a little twist.”

His fingers moved slower than you’d ever seen them, no rush, no impatience. Just careful, soft movements as he worked the end free.

"This right?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. Now you just start unraveling. Don’t pull, just let it come apart.”

He followed your lead, fingers brushing against yours every now and then.

"This is kinda relaxing,” he admitted after a moment.

You laughed softly.

He glanced at you, then back at your hair, a small smile working its way onto his face. “It’s nice. Makes me feel like I'm important.”

Your expression softened at that.

“You are,” you said quietly.

He didn’t say anything for a second, just kept working. The braid loosened under his hand.

“It’s really pretty,” he said, almost under his breath.

You stilled slightly. “My hair?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was obvious. “All of it. When it's in braids, his fingers gently separated a section, careful not to tug “like this too.”

There was no teasing in his voice. No jokes.

Just honesty.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and something warm settled in your chest.

“Thanks, Dean.”

He shrugged, a little bashful now. “Just telling the truth.”

You nudged his shoulder lightly. “Keep going, Winchester. You’ve got a whole head of hair to get through.”

He smirked, focusing on the braid in his hands. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t rush me.”

But he leaned in closer anyway, settling closer behind you so your back could rest against his legs as not to strain yourself.

"Did you understand anything from that lecture?" Tim asks nudging your shoulder.

The sour smell of beer and sweat fades in and out of your nose as you make your way to the Science building through the mass of students on the way to the football game. It was a Thursday night, Thursday night for everyone else meant tailgating, cheap beer, and face paint, but Thursday night for you meant four hours in the anatomy lab surrounded by the oppressive smell of formaldehyde and bent over a table examining the internal intricacies of the human body.

It wasn’t unwelcome, you knew what you signed up for when you decided to go to medical school, but you still wished that the lab was earlier in the day instead of at 6 pm.

The air is filled with the dull throb of energy, pulsing with the music from speakers all over campus, and through the throngs of people that pass you on the way to the stadium. The buzz of excitement in the air vibrated through your nerve endings. If you paid attention to how well the football team was doing, you would have known that tonight was the championship, but the closest you got to pigskin was the bag of pork rinds in your backpack and the occasional football player that asked you for help finding research materials during your shifts at the library.

"Nope." You reply jostling past a group of guys toting a giant stuffed pig wearing jersey of the school’s rival while they catcall some girls up ahead dressed from head to toe in bright red.

"Then why did you keep nodding?"

"Because Professor Drake was staring right at me!"

"You didn't have to make eye contact."

"It's a little late for that don't you think?" You smile up at him. He's taller than you, with dark hair falling forward into his glasses and a lean build. "But it's alright, I'll just binge watch YouTube videos."

Tim laughs adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You had been lab partners since your first year, randomly assigned and forced to collaborate, but after many late night study sessions and mental breakdowns, Tim was one of your only friends.

“You seem to spend a lot of time on YouTube." He smiles.

"It's free education."

"Seems ridiculous to pay all this money just to learn it on YouTube."

"If YouTube handed out degrees for watching videos I’d be a doctor by now. I’d probably also have a degree in culinary arts.” You look down to check the watch on your wrist. You were both running late for lab. Dr. Welsh hated it when students were late, in fact, he was notorious for locking the door. Each week there was always some poor soul that banged on the door for entry, but Dr. Welsh knew no mercy. One time, you witnessed another student attempt to sneak in through the window an hour late. Dr. Welsh made them go back out the way they came, despite the lab being on the third floor.

At least the student brought a ladder with him.

“Culinary arts?”

“I like pie. Plus baking helps me cope with my stress.” You knock into his shoulder to shut him up. “What? You don’t watch anything weird on YouTube?”

“I usually start watching videos to understand the lectures and suddenly it’s been 7 hours, it’s 3 am and I’m watching a timelapse of metal rusting.”

“We’ve all been there buddy.”

"Hey doll-face!" You hear from somewhere behind you, but you ignore it, believing it to be another group of guys who splash beer over the sidewalk.

You glance down at your watch again.

"We're not going to be late." Jake says sensing your anxiety. "We've got 5 minutes."

"Early is on time, on time is late, late is inexcusable." You sing-song.

"Dr. Welsh embroider that on a pillow for you?"

"No it’s just-"

Someone grabs your backpack and pulls you back a step. What the- You whirl around prepared to cuss out a drunken frat boy, but you weren't expecting Dean Winchester.

"Dean." You say in surprise.

He looks better than you remember. Dean's wearing a red flannel covered by a black jacket, his hair tousled just the right amount to look effortless, his green eyes crinkled around the edges as his mouth pulls into a smile that makes your knees weak.

Your relationship, if you could even call it that, began your first week of classes, two years ago. You had just moved into your apartment and met your new roommate, but instead of going out to the new student mixer with her, you decided to stay in and unpack. It was past midnight when you heard a commotion in the apartment next door and when you opened your front door to investigate, you found Dean in the hallway leaning against the wall.

His clothes were torn, he had a knife in his hand, blood was soaked through the front of his shirt, but when his eyes met yours, you weren't afraid. He looked so broken, so small that you had to help him. So you pulled him into your apartment and stitched him up the best you could, while he tried to lie about how it happened and explain why he looked like he'd been through a blender. Dean had never been good at lying to you, not even then. He was also the biggest baby you had ever met when it came to wound care.

In the months that followed Dean continued to show up, each time with injuries less and less life threatening asking you to help him, until one day he showed up perfectly fine and continued to show up. You would spend every minute together for a few days and then he would leave like nothing happened, only to show up again in a few weeks and it would start all over again. 

Sometimes you thought that he wanted more than just a few days together, but then he would just leave, not giving you any other explanation. You hadn't expected to fall for him as hard as you did, but each time he left it broke you. You found yourself hoping each day that he would show up, only to be disappointed when he didn't. Days would drag by fading into shades of gray until finally Dean would show up and everything went back to color, only to sink back into monochrome when he left. The last time you had seen him was a month ago, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and told him not to come back.

But now he was here, again.

"Hey Doll-face." Dean smiles wider.

You try to ignore how your heart stutters in your chest when he smiles at you.

"Do you know this guy?" Tim asks you taking a step forward to put himself between Dean and you.

Dean's eyes trace Tim, smile slipping into confident smirk as he sizes him up. He opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever thought was about to come out.

"Unfortunately I do." You sigh. "Tim can you give us a minute."

"Sure. But-"

"I know." You say, understanding that he was going to remind you what time it was. "We won't be late."

"I'll be over there." Tim puts a healthy distance between the two of you, far enough to give you space, but close enough that he can see you.

Dean is still smirking at him. "Boyfriend?" His eyes flit to yours, amused.

"Lab partner." You adjust your grip on your backpack unsure what to do.

I said everything I needed to say the last time. I thought that was it. Did he think I didn't mean it?

You think about the last time he was here, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and when he finally left, how you skipped all your classes and stayed in bed for two days clutching a pillow to your chest and wishing that it was him. It had felt like the end. The end of whatever the hell this had been. Sometimes you wished that you had defined it the first time you slept together, wished that you had told him you didn't do that ever, that you didn't just sleep with people without feelings because you knew sooner or later it would end up like this.

Then again you knew that you always had feelings for him, since the moment you locked eyes with his the night you met.

"He’s cute. If you’re into that geeky kind of thing. Though you could always date Sam-"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Plus I didn’t want to miss the big game.”  Dean's eyes flit to the mass of people swarming around you, shouting and singing as they stumble down the cracked pavement. The dark shadows of the buildings stretch long over campus, illuminated by the lamplights that line the sidewalks.

"You should have called"

"I did. You never pick up" He arches a perfect eyebrow.

"Most would take that as a hint"

"Well Sweetheart given my profession you not picking up made me worry."

By now you knew exactly what he did. Despite Dean not acting like he wanted a relationship, when all was quiet and it was just the two of you laying in bed he confided in you, told you things about his life that made you hold him close and wish that you could make him forget all about it. You loved those soft moments with Dean, when it felt like more and you could imagine that Dean wanted to be as wrapped up in you as you were in him.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you try to forget it all, forget the day he walked into your life, and forget how much you like him.

"I can’t do this with you right now, I’ve got a lab in 3 minutes." You turn towards where Tim is standing, prepared to leave.

"Come on you can blow off one lab.”  Dean grabs your backpack turning you back to face him. “We can go to the big game. You know I can’t say no to free beer-“ The look in his eyes is joking.

He doesn't understand.

You shake him off. "No I can't Dean. This is important to me. This is my life. I can't drop everything just because you show up out of the blue."

"It wouldn't be out of the blue if you picked up your phone." His smile dips into an attractive pout that makes it very difficult to think.

"Dean why are you here?"

"I told you, I was in the neighborhood-"

"We talked about this. I can't do this anymore."

"I remember you talking about it."

"Yes and I remember you leaving." You snap as the memory of the last time you saw him rises in the back of your throat. You think about the days that followed, when you couldn't focus and flunked a test. 

"Y/n-“ Dean sighs.

"Look, I like spending time with you, but I can't keep doing this to myself. You show up, we spend every second together for days, and then you leave. It would be one thing if we were trying to do long distance, but we’re not.  All I get is radio silence for weeks and then you show  up all over again like nothing happened, expecting to pick up right where we left off, and the cycle begins all over again."

"I don't go radio silent for weeks. It’s you that doesn’t pick up your phone or text me back.”

"Yes you do and I can't do it. I won't do it. Because every time you leave I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see you and-" You take in a breath to stop the ball of emotion that lodges itself in your throat. "It does something to me. And I'm not saying that what you do is any less important than what I'm trying to accomplish here. I’m not telling you to stop hunting. But this is my life Dean, my future. And I don’t want to put that in jeopardy because you show up every few weeks when you’re feeling restless. I want more than a few days every few weeks. I want more and I'm worth more. And if you can't give that to me that's fine, but please stop coming around and so I can find someone else who can."

The expression on Dean's face shifts, it's no longer the playful smirk or attractive pout, it almost looks heartbroken.

But that can't be right. Dean doesn't see me that way.

You look at where Tim is waiting for you to avoid Dean's gaze. He’s looking down at the watch on his wrist and you can feel his apprehension.

"I've got to get to my lab." You turn away from Dean, but stop halfway to Tim. "It was good to see you Dean. I wish you the best."

As Tim and you begin to walk away, you can feel Dean's eyes on you the whole way up the stairs into the science building, but you refuse to turn back.

"Are you okay?" Tim whispers.

"I will be. Let's just go before Dr. Welsh locks the door." You mutter while pushing down the guilt that rose when you thought of how Dean looked when you walked away.

Despite Dr. Welsh’s attempts to lock the door, you were far too angry with Dean to let another man stand in your way, so when you and Tim arrived to lab 10 seconds before the clock struck 6, you shoved your boot in the door before Dr. Welsh could shut it. And by some miracle he let you in. Maybe it was the murder in your eyes.

Tim had been stunned, you were usually more reserved, not quick tempered. But everything that happened with Dean rubbed you the wrong way.

You couldn’t decide if you liked him or hated him. Right now the hate was winning.

How dare he? You thought to yourself, hand clenching on the scalpel so tightly that Tim backed up. How dare he just show up again after I told him not to?

“Y/n, are you okay?” Tim had asked.

“I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?” You’d snapped at him.

Even Dr. Welsh had given you a wide berth through lab.

 After you cleaned up everything it was 10:26 pm, which meant you had a little time before your late shift in the library.

“Did you want to go see if that shawarma food truck is still parked around the corner?” Tim asks hesitantly.

“No. I’m just gonna go to the library and study before my shift.” You mumble, shouldering your backpack and ignoring the urge to think about Dean.

Hopefully he took the hint and he’s gone. The thought brought a prick of guilt. Would that be the last time I ever saw him? Would those be the last words I ever said to him? You fight the urge to call him, to apologize, because the one thing you had wanted to say was that you liked him and you didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay in your life permanently. Sure long distance was hard, but for him it would be worth it.

“Oh.” Tim pauses for a minute. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?”

“Well that Dean guy. You seemed kinda upset.”

“I was- am. But it’s okay, give me a few hours I’ll be over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Make sure to send the link to that Timelapse of metal rusting.” You try to smile, but the joke falls flat.

“Okay.” Tim watches you go.

The library was only a 9 minute walk from the science building, but it still felt too long. You longed to be lost in your notes, to think of anything else other than Dean, but you couldn’t.

Why did he have to come back? Why couldn’t he have just let it lie? I was doing better-

You think about the weeks that followed his last visit, a haze of homework, tests, and work.

Well, I was doing okay.

The thrum of music is still in the air, but now less people pass you as you walk down the sidewalk, and the ones that do are holding hands and laughing. Your thoughts shift to Dean again.

I like him, but I have to get over him because it’s not going anywhere. You think about the first time you slept together. Maybe this is my fault, maybe I should have defined this from the beginning. I mean, I know the kind of person he is…

That thought makes you pause. Sure the first few times you’d patched his wounds Dean was sexy and flirty, but all the times that followed he seemed, sweet, charming. It wasn’t that you spent every moment in bed, he had taken you out to dinner at the diner down the street, fought with you over the last slice of pie, took you to a bar for drinks  where he shamelessly beat you at pool, other times he waited for you to be done with your classes to make sure that you didn't have to walk home alone at night. You remember how mad he had been when you told him you did that, but gas was so expensive and it was easier to walk the four blocks.

Someone grabs your arm from behind, pulling you out of your memories, and you finally snap. Using the only self defense move you knew, besides S-I-N-G from Miss Congeniality, you knock off the hand and flip the offender over your shoulder prepared to spray them in the face with the mace in your pocket.

But then you realize who it is.

Dean frowns up at you from the ground. “When I taught you that, I didn’t expect you to use it on me.”

“Just be happy that I didn’t pepper spray you.” Your eyes narrow.

 Maybe I should. It would make me feel better.

“Would have been the highlight of my night.” He stands up from the ground brushing off the front of his clothes with a pointed look.

“Dean what are you still doing here?”

“I want to talk.”

“I’ve said all I need to.”

“But I haven’t.”

“I don’t care. You’ve heard what I need to say and I’m sick of you not listening.”

“Y/n-“

“Fine, I’ll say it one more time, but listen this time.  I've never, never depended on anyone else in my life. It's been me, me for a long time.” You poke your finger into his chest to emphasize your point. “Then you just sauntered in and changed everything. You made me care about you, worry about you, and you made me depend on you showing up in my life. Every time you leave it breaks me. Every time I’m in a funk for days. The last time you left, I cried for two days and I didn’t go to any of my classes! I'm trying to be serious about my life. And I can't do that if you show up every few weeks and make me expect something and then leave a few days later and I'm devastated.”

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I have to get over you Dean, and I can't do that if you keep showing up. So please just go.” You turn away from him.

His hand comes down on your arm again to turn you back to him. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?”

“Do you think I like leaving you? Do you really think it’s that easy for me?” He looks hurt.

“It certainly seems to be when you walk out after a few days with a smile like it means nothing! Like I mean nothing-“ You fight the tears that burn against your eyes. You wanted to be something for him just as much as he was something for you, but you were afraid. You hadn’t depended on anyone since you graduated and moved away from home. You weren’t used to needing someone in your life this much.

"You mean everything!” Dean shouts grabbing your shoulders. “It’s me that means nothing."

You blink your eyes for a second, not comprehending what he’s trying to say. "Dean what are you talking about?"

"I didn't think you wanted that-" He looks down.

Your eyes trace the slump in his shoulders, the frown on his handsome face, and the way he won’t meet your gaze.

What is he talking about?

You try to think of a time that you’d seen him look so vulnerable, but the only time you imagine was the night you met.

"Wanted what?"

"Me.” Dean’s voice is a whisper.

"I'm confused."

His eyebrows are furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m nothing like you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re a little younger than me and you’re smart and you’ve got this bright future ahead of you. You don’t need someone like me dragging you down-“

“Someone like you? Dragging me down? Dean what are you talking about?" You can't comprehend what he's saying. You reach up to cup his cheeks, but Dean pulls back from you, glancing away.

“I didn’t go to a fancy college, I barely finished high school. I’ve spent most of my life in motel rooms  committing credit card fraud and trying not to die.  And then I met you. You’re funny and caring and so smart, and  I just thought that you would like it more if I came by every once in a while to relieve some tension. I didn’t think that you would want me to stay.”

He didn’t think that I would want him? That can't be right. Dean is so confident usually. You search his face and see the genuine vulnerability behind his green eyes.

“Are you serious?” You ask him.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Dean, you are smart-“

“Not the same way you are”

“Dean.” You can’t help but take his hand. Dean’s green eyes focus on yours for a second, wide and open. “You don’t have to go to college to be smart. You’re resourceful and you know more about supernatural creatures than anyone else. Even the top scientists and doctors in the world don’t believe in them and they went to stuffy old colleges and fight with one another over who’s smarter. I don’t care that you didn’t go to a fancy college. What you do is important, probably more important than what I’m going to do. You protect people, you’ve saved the world more than once, and sure maybe it’s not glamorous to some people but it is to me.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“Have you thought that maybe I like spending time with you because you’re so different than the people I see everyday?” You ask him softly, squeezing his hand.

“No.” Dean mutters.

“I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I don’t have lavish wealthy parents bankrolling me. My dad is a mechanic. I work two jobs and send him money so I don’t have to worry about him. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. But when you show up I don’t feel like a freak. With you I feel like I don’t have to pretend, I can just be me. And I like you, a lot. This has never just been about relieving tension or sex for me. Ever. I mean it’s nice-“

“Just nice?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

You flush bright red. “I like spending time with you without that too. All the times we spent laying in bed or went to a bar or went to get food, and we talked were equally as wonderful for me. I like talking with you. I like hearing about your life. I just assumed that you had someone in every state that you visit when you’re feeling restless and that you didn’t want a relationship.”

“There’s no one else. Hasn’t been since I met you.”

Deans eyes lock with yours as you comprehend what he just confessed.

“Really?” Your voice is only a whisper.

“Fuck I’m not good at this romantic comedy shit-“ He mutters to himself shaking his head. “I like you too. I wish that I could be here all the time. I hate leaving you. It’s too quiet. When I’m not here all I do is think about you, what you’re doing, how your day was.”

Your entire body explodes with his words, heart beating so fast you think it’ll grow wings and take flight.

“When I was younger I used to laugh at Sam because he wanted a normal life, but with you I understand.  You’re so different than anyone I’ve ever met and it hurts me when I’m away from you.” Dean continues with a soft smile that makes you lose all feeling in your legs.

He takes your other hand. “I understand that what you’re doing is important and I’m not asking you to quit school. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. I want to make this work. I know that long distance isn’t easy, but I want to try.” His eyes search yours, begging for a answer, but you can barely breathe let alone speak. You watch his face fall as he takes your silence as your answer. “But I understand if you don’t want to, because you are worth more. You’re worth more than a few days, than a phone call or a text. You deserve someone who can be here with you all the time. You’re worth more than what I can give you. And you shouldn’t have to settle-“

You grab the front of his flannel because you can’t think of anything to say and pull him down to you for a kiss. Pins and needles trace down your spine as his soft lips move against yours. He smiles against your mouth, folding you into him, his large hand on the small of your back just under your backpack causing warmth to shoot down your spine. You lose yourself in the way his body fits around yours

“I’m not settling.” Your hands cup his cheeks as you look deep into his eyes. “I never want you to feel that way, because you are worth a hundred of any man I have ever met in my life. And if it’s my cross to bear to make you understand that every day of my life, then so be it. Because I would be lucky to spend any amount of time with you. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, Dean. I’ve wanted you since the day we met and every day after. And I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Dean’s smile breaks open something in the pit of your stomach and goosebumps scorch across your skin. “I can’t imagine not wanting you.” He presses his forehead against yours.

You stand there with his warm hand pressed into your back trying to think of another time that you felt even a fraction of what you feel for him. You think about your high school boyfriend, about a few of the guys you dated in during your undergrad years, but you come up with nothing. Because you can’t compare him to anyone else you’ve ever met. And it hurt you to think that Dean thought so little of himself in the grand scheme of things.

He leans down to kiss you again, pulling you against his chest so tight that everything blissfully falls away.

“Are you hungry?” He whispers against your lips after a minute.

“Yes, but my shift at the library starts soon. I’m there til 2.” You tighten your hands at the back of his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“Dean it’s okay if you just want to go back to my apartment and sleep. I can give you the key-“ You notice the dark circles under his eyes, but you know that Dean wasn’t one to complain about being tired.

“It’s worth being tired if I get to see you.” Dean smiles. “But I’ll go get us some food, because I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t forget the pie.”

“Have I ever?” He brushes his lips to yours one more time, but you don’t remove your arms from around his neck. “You’re going to have to let me go doll.”

“Just 5 more minutes.”

You spend the weekend together in your apartment. All those blissful moments together solidify the thought that this is real, that this time it’s going to be different. Every night going to bed with Dean tucking you against him and waking up every morning with your head on his chest feels like a dream, and you never want to wake. Every kiss and intimate moment between you feels like more, and you have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t just sex, hasn’t ever been just sex. Dean wants to be there with you all the time, hold you close to him and share things with you. And this time you finally understand that you do help him forget and know that you do bring him as much comfort as he brings you.

When Monday comes and Dean has to go, you try not to think of it as the end.

Dean leans back against the door of the Impala, his hands on your hips, green eyes blazing in the sun, but it’s his eyes that warm you more than the sun’s rays.

"Sweetheart-" Dean begins, sensing what you’re thinking. His thumbs rub smooth circles against waist where your t-shirt rests.

"I know." You press your face into his flannel, inhaling the scent you ascribe to Dean. He smells like oil, leather, and the spicy scent of the soap he uses that tickles your nose.

"Hey." His free hand comes under your chin to raise your gaze back to his. "I promise I'm gonna come back. I promise that we're going to make this work. It’s going to be different.” He cups your cheek, eyes soft and understanding.

“I know, but you’re still leaving.” Your tighten your arms around his chest.

“I wish I didn’t have to. But Sam called, he needs me-“

“I know.” You breathe.

You don’t want Dean to feel any worse than he does about leaving, especially when you remember what he said to you a few days ago, about you deserving more and about how he wished he could be more for you. Deep down you know that both of you are determined to make this work, so you put on a smile.

 “It’s okay.” You gently rub his back.   “You’ll be back in 2 weeks and I’ll be on spring break in a month.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to see you in a bikini?” Dean grins.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Hmm. Well until I see you-“ He raises his right hand from where it rests on your hip to remove the large silver ring from his finger. "Don't panic, it's not an engagement ring." Dean's smile breaks you a little.  "Just me promising that I'll come back, that I'll call and text you so much that you'll be sick of me." He slides the ring onto your thumb, the weight comforting.

"I could never be sick of you."

“Just you wait.” He winks, holding your hand to his chest. “I bet I can prove you wrong.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

The kiss goodbye is bittersweet, but you hold yourself together, refusing to cry as Dean gets into his car and leaves. You watch the Impala disappear around the corner, taking your heart with it, but just as it does your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I miss you.” Dean’s voice fills the line and this time you can’t stop the tears.

“I miss you too.”

“I promise I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Okay. Please be careful.” You remember all the stories he's told you over the time you’ve known him, all the horrible things that happened to him and Sam. Sometimes you wish he hadn’t, because you can’t help but worry.

“I’m always careful.” You can hear him rolling his eyes.

“As the person who has spent the past 2 years patching you up, I can say with certainty that you are not always careful.”

“Then I promise to be more careful than usual.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The wind picks up, pulling your hair from the ponytail at the back of your head.

“I’ll call you when I make it back to the bunker.”

“Good.”

“Bye Sweetheart.”

“Bye Dean.”

Your gaze drops to the heavy ring on your thumb and you hold tight to the hope and belief that this time is different, allowing the memories of the past few days to brush away any doubts that threaten the thought of what the future will bring.

It had been months since Sam had taken that jump, and Dean had gone to show up on Lisa's doorstep, completely out of his mind with grief and fueled purely by the promise he'd made to his brother. He had his good days and bad days, though a lot of them were bad days and a lot of the "good days" were rated as such just because they were the days he was able to successfully fake it. Lately, though, some of the good days were starting to feel more genuine, and he was at least settling into a routine. He still couldn't totally give up his search for a way to fix things, to save Sam and bring him back, but he wasn't insane about it anymore; Lisa and Ben had helped to curb that. There probably wouldn't ever be a day where he gave up, but he was trying not to let it consume him.

Today, however, was proving to be one of his bad days. Dean had woken up after hours of what felt like nonstop nightmares in a bad mood and haunted by worse memories. Lisa, of course, had noticed right away. Making himself get out of bed had taken effort that it shouldn't have; he barely managed a few grunts over breakfast, even when Ben tried to talk to him about making some last-minute changes to his Halloween costume, and something about seeing himself in the mirror made his own blood run cold. It felt wrong that he got to live, and Sam didn't, and something about seeing his own reflection, alive and unharmed, was too painful. It wasn't the first time, and Dean resigned himself to a day or two of avoiding mirrors until this latest low passed him by, too.

When he reached for the whiskey before noon, however, and Lisa caught his eye, a meaningful look passing between them, and he pulled his hand back and instead wandered into the living room, grabbing for the remote as he dropped into the couch. It felt ridiculous to consider something that small an accomplishment, but relative to what his behavior had been? Yeah, he was gonna call it a fucking win.

Lisa had never really given him a hard time — if anything, she'd been too patient with him — but his drinking was something they had been working on.

"Look, I'm not saying I don't get it," she'd said at one point, "but it's just a band-aid, and it's only gonna get worse. I'm not saying give it up either… just, maybe try not to lean on it so hard. Find some other coping mechanisms. That's all."

"I assume diving further into lore books doesn't count?" he'd quipped. Lisa had given him a fond but exasperated smile as she rolled her eyes.

"Smart ass. No, it does not. Pretty sure that can go under the same category as the drinking."

She'd settled into him after that, letting the conversation drop, but Dean had been trying since, knowing she was right, knowing it was the least he could do considering everything she'd done for him. Knowing that if he was going to be in Ben's life, the kid deserved better.

Today, though, he was so caught up in his own head, his own dark, spiraling thoughts, he completely forgot there were expectations of him beyond getting through the day. But then Lisa was standing over him, looking down curiously.

"You know we have to go soon, right?"

"Go? Go where?"

The look that crossed Lisa's face told him immediately that he'd fucked up. "To the block party? For Halloween? We were going to go, and Ben's going to go trick-or-treating with some of the other kids."

Shit.

He'd completely forgotten it was Halloween, and that he'd promised not only her and Ben, but one of the few "friends" he'd made since moving in with her that he'd show. It was the last thing he wanted to do, though, go to a fucking party. Putting his hand through a meat grinder sounded like it might be more appealing in that moment than slapping on a fake smile and pretending that everything was fine, and he was normal, and he didn't feel like the walls were closing in around him.

Dean hated the idea of disappointing her, he felt like he did that enough, but the idea of getting up felt worse.

"Lis, I don't know if —"

"Oh no," she cut him off immediately, her voice taking on that no-nonsense tone that managed to be firm without being bitchy. "Don't even try. We've been talking about this for weeks, and it's Halloween. You love Halloween. And it'll be better for you to get out of the house. C'mon, get up."

Dean sighed, contemplating for half a second, continuing to resist. But then Lisa held her hand out to help him up, an encouraging smile on her face and a spark in her eye that always made his heart flutter, even on days like today. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Ben moving around, and he remembered how excited the kid had been about Halloween this year, how much time he'd spent helping him with the Wendigo mask for his costume.

He couldn't let them down. Not again. Maybe it felt like his world had ended, but he needed to try to remember that not everyone else's had, and that he had people that counted on him. People he loved that, as hard as it was for him to remember sometimes, loved him too.

So Dean took the offered hand and pushed to his feet, wrapping an arm around Lisa when he was at his full height and ducking his head for a short but meaningful kiss, and when they pulled apart, he hovered, his eyes lingering on her face as though he could memorize every detail.

"Alright," he agreed, "but if the party sucks, I reserve the right to go trick-or-treating with the kid."

Lisa smiled and went up on her toes to kiss him again, squeezing him briefly as she did.

"He'd love that, anyway. C'mon, go get changed. I'll go wrangle Ben, and we can get going."

Without any complaint, Dean went back upstairs, distantly listening to the sounds of Lisa and Ben in the house while he got ready himself.

He missed Sam. He missed his life, as fucked up as it had been, and he didn't think he'd ever be the same person he'd been before. There were some blows in life that couldn't be totally recovered from — and if anyone knew that, it was him. But he knew that he could at least get better, and on the bad days like these, he couldn't help but feel lucky he at least had a reason to try.