#spndeanbingo

“So, was it Amara?” Sam asked his older brother as he packed up their bags. Now that the case was done, it was time to leave the motel.

“No,” Dean shook his head as he let out a long breath. “I-I thought it would be too. I really did.”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he listened to Dean’s words. The Qareen they were fighting took on the form of one’s deepest desire. Since the Mark had been lifted, Dean had been obsessed with Amara, unable to hurt or resist her. He was certain it would have been her image that his brother saw. Maybe it really was one of the Daisy Dukes?

“Then who-”

“Y/N.”

The name hung heavy in the air between them as the silence stretched out. Dean looked absolutely distraught and Sam’s heart ached for him.

He hadn’t thought about Y/N in a while, and he felt guilty for it. She had left when Dean first got the Mark, worried for how it was already affecting him. She took off in the night, leaving behind a note. The brothers had been unable to find her anywhere.

Sam secretly looked for her face in every passing stranger they saw. He knew Dean was upset and heartbroken when Y/N left, having been close friends with her. Sam didn’t realize just how much Dean had apparently cared for her, the Qareen appearing as her and breaking Dean all over again.

“You ever gonna tell me what happened between you two?” Sam asked as they climbed into the Impala, ready to head home. Dean drove down the road, the silence stretched out for miles.

"You remember the night she left? You hooked up with that redhead from the bar-"

"Wait. Is that why she left? Because I brought a girl back?" Sam began to panic.

"What? No!" Dean scoffed, "Full of yourself much?"

"You just said-"

"If you'd let me finish…"

One hand holding tightly onto the strap on her shoulder, Y/N raised her other hand, took a deep breath, and knocked quickly on the door. She listened as footsteps approached, a pause, then several locks being disengaged.

The door opened and a smirking Dean Winchester leaned against the doorframe. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Sam found company for the night,” she started. Dean’s brow quirked in interest. “So I was hoping you’d be okay with me sleeping in the car?”

He stood straight, “Why would I let you sleep in the car?”

He opened the door further and gestured her inside. Her eyes looked past him into the room, finding it empty of anyone else, the bed still neatly made.

“I thought you had company,” she uttered.

Dean grinned and relaxed, “You sound jealous.”

She rolled her eyes hard, her head lolling with it, “Yeah, I’ll go find a park bench.”

She turned to leave, Dean stepping forward and grabbing her by the arm, “Don’t be an ass. Get in here.”

Y/N huffed a breath, heading inside the motel room, turning to face Dean as he closed and relocked the door. He looked her up and down, biting his lip and smirking once more. She looked ready to hit him.

“Relax,” he was the one to roll his eyes this time. “We’ve shared a bed before.”

“I know that, it’s not that. I know you went to the bar with Sam. Did you strike out or something?”

“Nah. No one really caught my eye. Wasn’t my night,” he shrugged. “Kinda proud of Sammy though.”

Y/N snorted a laugh, the tension suddenly gone. “You mind if I take a quick shower?”

“Go for it,” he threw back, focusing his attention on cleaning up the small table.

The sound of the bathroom door closing had him turning his gaze toward its surface, staring hard. As if his eyes could see through the door or he could somehow compel her to come back into his line of sight. He took in a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

He rubbed at the Mark on his forearm trying to ease away the burning ache of it. The Mark constantly pulsed and flowed, reminding him of its presence.

Except when Y/N was around.

Just being around her made it grow quieter, the pulsing ebbing away to nothing. She calmed and relaxed him. They were friends and hunting buddies. But since he’d gotten the Mark, she’d grown to mean so much more to him.

It was harder and harder to hide it, the playful flirtations and occasional bed sharing both feeding and teasing him. He refused to give in, to risk ruining one of his most treasured friendships. Especially since she’d never shown interest in him beyond what they already had. The risk was too great.

Dean laid back on the bed, flipping through the channels, not really paying much attention. He was biding time, keeping himself occupied while he waited for Y/N to return. The Mark nagged at him once more and he rubbed it in a vain attempt to soothe the deep ache.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, the steam billowing out behind her. She was dressed in a t-shirt and sleep shorts - her go-to he realized - her bare thighs drawing his attention. She tossed her towel aside after shaking out her hair, casually crawling on the bed to prop herself next to Dean.

“What’re we watching?”

“Nothing on,” he groaned, leaving the TV on some action movie and tossinng the remote to the bed. She immediately reached for it and he smirked as she laid back and got comfortable, flipping through the channels herself before stopping back on the same action flick from before.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed, setting the remote on the nightstand.

Her eye caught Dean rubbing at the Mark. It made her nervous. She hated that damn Mark and what it was doing to Dean. What he was becoming. It terrified her. She stuck around for Dean, her friend and hunting buddy. Not for reasons that she wouldn’t even admit to herself. Especially not now, not when Dean was suffering and fighting with all he had. The last thing he needed was her throwing feelings at him. He needed her friendship and she valued it.

She glanced up to see Dean already looking at her. Her breath caught in her throat, the tension thick. She wanted so badly to soothe his worry and ache, to love him and show him how love could heal. But she was petrified of showing it, admitting it to anyone. In that moment, she wasn't sure what possessed her, other than a need to soothe him - and maybe herself. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his.

He was surprised at first, but quickly melted into it, tilting his head and responding eagerly. She hummed, licking across his lips, making him groan as he opened to her questing tongue. His hands slid down her sides to her hips, pulling her into his lap, allowing him to bring her close and deepen the kiss further.

She whined against his lips, her fingers working quickly to shed his shirt. Her hands roamed down his chest and stomach as she rolled her hips needily against his own, her desperation growing with each touch. She quickly removed her own shirt, pressing herself back against him and gasping against his lips at the contact.

Dean wanted to stop, to ask her what had suddenly made her want him the way he'd been wanting her for so long. But he was selfish. He wanted her so bad, the Mark all but forgotten as her attention rained down on him. He knew she could never want him, especially when he was tainted with the Mark. Even though it would break his heart to only be the once, he needed it and would take whatever she would give him. He could have that at least.

Feeling her roll back into him made Dean groan longingly, crashing again with Y/N's lips to keep himself from being too loud. He quickly worked to remove Y/N's clothes, then his own, before hastily tugging her back down to him with a small chuckle.

“Fuck,” he bit his lip, “You are so fucking hot, ya know that?”

“Have you seen you?” she laughed, rubbing her wet folds against his length and loving the sounds he made.

Amidst the awkwardness, the tension and unspoken feelings, they still managed to laugh. To be the friends they had always been, and that gave them both comfort.

She shifted her hips, sinking down on his length until there was no more to take. She let out a sigh at feeling so full and connected to him.

Dean mouthed a curse, eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as her tight walls sunk around him, tightening as they adjusted to him. He breathed out shakily across Y/N's lips as they ghosted each other, his arms slowly moving to grip on the back of her shoulders, pushing her down onto him.

With a small grunt, he thrust his hips up, forcing Y/N to bounce on his lap as he leaned back against the headboard, slowly thrusting with pinpoint precision. She whined and gasped, her arms wrapped tighter around his shoulders as she held him close, her body moving in sync with his.

It wasn’t long before Dean’s pace quickened to borderline brutal. With a long groan, he buried his face into the crook of Y/N's neck, groaning across her skin before sucking a deep red mark.

As each of his thrusts grew desperately in pace, he growled, hungrily devouring Y/N's lips. He released one of her shoulders, his free hand snaking between them to find her clit.

“I’m so close,” Dean breathed across her mouth, right as he started to rub fast, small circles on the sensitive nub, “Cum with me, cum on my fucking cock, Baby.”

She tried to speak, but a guttural moan was ripped from her lips as she came hard, her eyes squeezed shut and clinging to him, leaving small nail indents in his shoulders as she shook with the force of it in his arms.

Dean kept up his pace as he rode her through her high, his eyes locked and watching her completely blissed out. With a sudden and harsh thrust, he groaned out obscenely, pushing Y/N down onto him as he panted with each spurt of hot cum that shot deep into her belly.

She shook with another small orgasm at feeling his cum shoot within her. She whined and panted as she came down, her head dropped to his shoulder. She grimaced slightly as she felt his seed dripping out around his cock and a brief panic flared in her mind.

Dean’s eyes slowly fluttered open as he panted for breath, the same flash of panic suddenly flooding them too for a moment. When her head dropped to his shoulder, his arms tightened around her - a hell of a lot more gently now - he sighed out and enjoyed the feel of her.

"You okay?" he mumbled as she shook lightly in his arms, her breath fanning over his shoulder.

"Yeah," she sighed back, before yawning. "Tired though," she chuckled.

He inhaled a sharp and shaky breath as he withdrew from her core, laying her beside him and planting soft pecks along her collarbone as he hummed in agreement. He knew they needed to talk, but decided that was tomorrow's problem. With a hand draped across her waist, Dean slowly let himself drift to sleep.

"When I woke up, she was gone. Only the note was left," Dean spoke, recalling that last night with Y/N, making the hurt fresh all over again.

D-

I'm so sorry.

Please forgive me.

-Y/N

He'd reread the note again and again, the words forever etched into his brain. Sam didn't know that he still had it, tucked away in his trunk of possessions. Every once in a while, he'd take out the note, straightening the ruffled edges and studying the ink from her jotted words.

Sam remembered her cryptic note, Dean not providing much information until now. Y/N and Dean were practically best friends and Sam was sure they'd end up together eventually. He was glad they did, but couldn't figure out why Y/N would run. If anything, he thought Dean would have been the one to turn from intimacy, but Y/N?

"Maybe she was worried about the Mark," Sam offered hesitantly, swallowing hard as Dean squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter. "She doesn't know it's gone. Maybe we could look for her again?"

"Just let it go, Sam," Dean pleaded. "It's been more than a year. If she wanted to be found, we would have heard from her."

"Yeah, but, Dean-"

"Let's just focus on Amara, okay?"

"Ooh! We should stop for lunch at this little town up ahead!" Mary chimed excitedly from the backseat of the Impala.

"That sounds good," Sam agreed, looking over his shoulder at his mother with a smile before turning his attention to Dean at the wheel.

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned, but when both Mary and Sam pleaded, he gave in. He knew he would anyway. He'd do anything for his family.

After helping Amara and Chuck reconcile - and avoiding yet another apocalyptic event - Amara had granted Dean a gift, returning his mother to their lives. He was over-the-moon, but Mary needed time to adjust. He tried to understand, to give her space, and in the end she decided to stay and hunt with her sons.

Dean parked at the small town diner - the same sort of small establishment they frequented all over the country. Dean followed behind as his mother and brother chatted and laughed, finding a booth. He slid in beside his mother, smirking as he listened to the pair animatedly talk with one another.

Over the din, Dean's ears tickled with a familiar sound - a voice. He focused his ears on the sound, hearing two women speaking. Curious, he slightly turned his head, glancing over his shoulder. A waitress stood at the register, handing over a bag to a female customer. As the customer turned, ready to leave, Dean saw her face and his world came to a screeching halt.

She walked out the door and he could only snap his head around, peering out the large front windows of the diner as the woman entered her car.

"Y/N," he breathed out, unaware of his brother questioning him.

Sam's eyes followed Dean's gaze, the whisper of Y/N's name more than confusing him. But as he turned he saw her, clear as day. As she climbed in the car, she looked up, her eyes meeting Sam's and then Dean's through the windows. Just like Dean, she froze.

Sam scooted off the seat, ready to go out and talk to her, but as soon as he rose, she was pulling her car out of the parking spot and away from the diner, the tires squealing slightly in her haste. Immediately, Sam pulled out his phone, using their connected apps and information to look up the license plates.

Looking across the table, he could see that his brother was hurting and his mother was more than curious. Sam, however, was determined.

Y/N took off a little faster than she should have, the tires screeching as she made the turn out of the parking lot. That was Sam and Dean Winchester, she was certain of it! Two years and not a peep, then all of a sudden they're in her town? She panicked, her only thought was that she had to get away. She couldn't face Dean - not then, and not now.

As she raced towards home, she couldn't help but think back on that last night with Dean. He had been exhausted and in turmoil since getting that damn Mark on his arm. She was worried for him in ways that made her insides twist into knots. They were friends, yes, but she had made the biggest mistake - she had fallen in love with him.

She knew better, but it was out of her control, falling for him was as easy as breathing. She also knew Dean would have every reason to reject her, and she didn't want to risk being rejected. So she kept quiet. But seeing him that night, something sparked within her. She wanted to give him comfort, peace, love, if only for a moment.

After, she lie awake with Dean's arm draped over her waist, the sweat still cooling on her skin, her pulse returning to normal. Then the panic set in.

What if it was a one-time thing? She couldn't hide how she felt for him after that. She couldn't bear to see him walk away either. On top of all of that, he had the Mark and it was changing him. She was slowly growing terrified of it, and of him.

So she made the decision to leave in the middle of the night, carefully sneaking out of bed as Dean snored, sleeping more peacefully than she'd ever seen him. She quickly and quietly dressed, gathering her bag and sneaking out of the room.

As she pulled into her garage, she shut off the car, watching as the garage door closed behind her. It wouldn't take Sam more than an hour to find her, track her plates, drive around looking for her car. She could run again, she supposed. Her eyes flicked to the backseat and she sighed.

No more running.

Dean pulled up to the curb, throwing the car in park and eyeing up the house before him.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean sighed, leaving the car running but clibming out, shutting the door behind him. He stood on the sidewalk, hesitant to move forward.

What if she rejected him? She ran away for a reason. Maybe she wouldn't want to see him. He swallowed hard and forced his feet to move. He had to know why she left. Why they had such a beautiful moment together and she reipped it away. He thought their friendship would have been strong enough to survive anything.

"Dean, you don't have to do this. I can go talk to her if you want," Sam offered. He knew one of them had to talk to her, to find out why she took off, to make sure she was alright.

"Nah, I got this," Dean gave his brother a small smirk and a pat on the arm before making his way to the door.

Sam nodded, letting Dean walk up the path to the house. He climbed back in the car, giving his Mom a reassuring smile as they watched Dean and waited.

Y/N knew he was there before he ever knocked, having heard the tell-take sound of the Impala's engine rolling up outside. She was wrong. It took half anhour for Sam to track her down. She smiled despite the panic rearing its ugly head.

She took a deep breath and opened the door, just enough to situate herself in its opening. The mere sight of him took her breath away, as handsome as ever, his eyes filled with emotion.

"Hey, Y/N," he breathed out, his eyes taking in every little detail of her from head to toe, recommiting it to memory and noting the subtle changes.

"H-hey, Dean," she cursed at how her voice shook, her panic and fear still very present. She glanced at his covered arm and Dean followed her gaze.

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the smooth skin. "I don't have the Mark anymore."

"How?" she asked, her eyes wide as she took a step towards him, her fingers running over the smooth skin.

Dean's breath hitched at her touch, her proximity making his heart race. "That's kind of a long story," he chuckled nervously.

She stepped back into the doorway, glancing over her shoulder into the house before looking back at him. She noticed the Impala idling out front, Sam and a woman waiting in the car.

"Do you - is there someone else here?" Dean asked even though he was terrified of her answer. "I can come back or…or just leave," he offered, swallowing hard.

Y/N's heart broke at his vulnerability and she sighed, opening the door wider and stepping aside to allow him in. She closed the door behind them, giving Dean a moment to look over the inside of her house. Basic furnishings and decorations throughout, but she she knew there was no way he'd miss the highchair in the corner of the kitchen or the toys littered about the small space. Or the tiny human in the playpen in the livingroom, cooing as they chewed on a teething ring.

"You have a baby?" Dean asked, his eyes stuck on the small child. She stepped around him, moving to the playpen and taking the child into her arms.

"We have a baby," she corrected him, waiting for his reaction.

The silence drug out as she watched Dean process the information, doing the math in his head, his eyes landing on the child once more.

"Why?" he asked, his voice cracking. She could see his hurt and anger clashing within him, his eyes welling with tears. "Why did you leave? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared," she admitted shamefully. "I was scared of the Mark and what it was doing to you. And I was scared of how I was falling for you, Dean," she forced the words out, feeling her own tears forming. "I was scared to love you and scared to tell you and scared of you," she admitted with a huff.

"You weren't the only one who was scared," Dean spoke after a drawn out silence between them. "You weren't the only one falling and scared, Y/N."

She didn't know how to respond to his statement, her need to run and avoid still thrumming within her.

"Do you want to hold your daughter, Dean?" she asked with a smile. Dean carefully but eagerly took her from Y/N's arms, cradling the child in his own. "Her name's Ava."

"Ava," Dean whispered reverently, his eyes locked on the tiny features of his daughter. His daughter. It felt like a djinn dream. He'd found Y/N and she was alive and well and had their child. Having his Mom back had made Dean happier than he ever thought possible. But this moment right here, this was the greatest single moment of his life. Earmarked as a whole new level of happy washed over him. Until a disturbing thought occured to him.

"Is there a boyfriend or something I need to worry about?" he asked. "Some other father figure in her life?"

"No," Y/N sighed, running her fingers over her daughter head. "There could never be anyone after you, Dean."

He'd definitely address that later. He moved to the couch, gingerly sitting down and being delicate with Ava. He pulled out his phone to send a text, then she heard the Impala driving away. They spent the evening doting Ava with attention, the two of them sharing their lives over their time apart.

Dean participated in every aspect of Ava's nightly routine, helping to bathe her and put her to bed. With every second he was with the two of them his heart swelled further. There was no way he could be apart from them now.

"Come home with me?" Dean asked as they sat in the living room again.

"What?"

"You and Ava, you can move into the Bunker. There's plenty of space and it's warded so it's safe. And we'd have Sam and Mom and Cas to help out."

"Dean-"

"I don't have the Mark anymore, and my feelings haven't changed," he took a chance, scooting closer to her on the couch and cupping her cheek with one hand. "I have missed you every day. I've wondered again and again what I could have done differently. Now that I've found you both I don't ever want to be without you again."

The intensity in his eyes, the warmth from his touch, his familiar smell swirling around her, his heartfelt words that plucked every heartstring made the tears she'd been holding back fall. Once the dam was broken, she couldn't stop the sobs from taking over.

Dean shushed her, his hand moving to the back of her head as he tucked her face into the crook of his neck, soothing her the best he could. His own tears fell as he held her, the pain of the past falling away with each shed tear.

"I'm so sorry," she finally spoke, pulling back to meet his eyes and let him know she truly meant it. "I was scared but I never wanted to hurt you. I'm so sorry, Dean."

He wiped her tears with his thumbs, cupping her face and gently pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

"It's okay," he insisted. "We're here now, right?"

She nodded and he kissed her again. This time she responded eagerly, so grateful for his forgiveness, for his love, for him. She had so very much missed her Dean.

She panted for breath between kisses, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as goosebumps rose on her skin. She tried to push herself impossibly closer, hooking her arms under his and clutching the back of his shirt.

He pulled her tightly against him as he kissed her passionately, pouring himself into it, his hands tangling in her hair as he held her to him. The taste and feel of her was better than he remembered, sending sparks through his entire being. He needed to connect with her again.

In a seamless maneuver, he lifted her by the hips to straddle his lap, then stood and walked to her bedroom, setting her back on her feet once the door was closed behind them. He paused, taking a moment to appreciate her in front of him and in his arms once more.

The fear began to creep back in, making him doubt if he should take the chance again. He didn't think he could survive it if she left again or asked him to go. She said she had fallen for him back then, but did she still feel that way? He did, he said as much, but did she?

She cupped his cheek, instinctually knowing what was going through his mind just then. Afterall, the had been close friends for years and that intuation doesn't just go away. The connection they had seemed to flare back up between them as if they'd never been apart.

"I want you," she reassured him, kissing him sweetly and meeting his eyes once more. "I love you, Dean, and I want you."

A distinct whine could be heard passing his lips as he crashed them into hers once more, hungrily devouring her mouth as his hands clutched and pulled at her clothes. Walking her back toward the bed, his lips trailed down her neck, nipping and sucking marks along the way.

He pulled back long enough to remove her shirt before attacking her mouth once more, the force of his kisses sending her falling back onto the bed. His lips never left her as he followed her down, pressing the length of his body against her.

His hands worked quickly, removing her bra as his lips moved over her collarbone and down to her breasts, leaving a wet trail to cool in the air. Reaching her nipple, he sucked and licked with the tip of his tongue as one hand moved to massage the neglected breast. His other hand trailed down her stomach and flicked open the button of her jeans.

He groaned, getting lost in the feel and taste of her, his ears rang with the sweet little sounds that fell from her parted lips.

He switched breasts suddenly, his mouth worked her into a frenzy as he removed the rest of her clothing. He paused to look over her now bare body, taking in every detail. She cupped his cheek, leaning up to kiss kim. He returned it, but pulled back before it could go too far. Instead, he kissed down her stomach -ignoring her whines of protest- and settled between her legs.

Her head rolled back, a shout falling from her lips at the sudden feel of his mouth and tongue sinfully devouring her pussy. She looked down at him, his eyes closed as he held her firmly in place and savored her flavor. He was still fully clothed and something about the contrast turned her on even more.

Dean proceeded to lick, nip, suck, and kiss every line, crease, and fold, grunting and moaning with her flavor. Bringing a finger to her entrance he slid in slowly, feeling her tight, wet warmth accept him greedily. He hummed in satisfaction, the vibrations causing her hips to jerk involuntarily. As her walls relaxed, he added a second finger finding her sweet spot in a matter of seconds.

He thrust his hand fast and with a final harsh flick of his tongue against her clit she came, screaming loudly. Her walls clenched around his fingers, thighs trembling and chest heaving. He pumped his fingers harder, sucking on her clit and riding her through her orgasm, taking every ounce of it for himself greedily.

As she lay recovering, her body shaking from the force of her climax, he climbed from the bed, quickly removing his clothes and covering her body with his before she even had time to miss his warmth.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he breathed out, his heart beating hard in his chest at seeing the bliss swimming in her eyes.

Wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his lips to hers, she wrapped her legs around his hips, attempting to pull him as close as possible to her. Every hair on her body was standing on end and every inch of skin pined for his touch. Breathing heavily, her eyes flooded with need, she looked deep into his eyes.

“Please, Dean-” she whined, pressing her chest against his, “-I need you.”

"I need you too, so much," he swore, rutting his length against her wet folds, teasing them both and slicking himself up. Holding her gaze he slowly entered her core, both of them gasping at the slick slide.

As he bottomed out, she could feel herself fluttering around him, her walls relaxing for the exquisite stretch of his cock. Her hands clutched at his back, her thighs squeezing his hips. He places tender kisses along her skin as she adjusted, the shift of her hips and delicious moan letting him know she was ready.

She expected he might be hard and fast, but what she got was another side to Dean entirely. He slowly withdrew, every inch of him dragging against her walls, pushing back in at the same slow pace. He watched her face, kissing her sweetly, enjoying her.

He felt so good, so warm and solid and real, stretching her deliciously, his sweaty skin gliding against hers as the heat between them amped up. The slower pace had her mind focusing and feeling every spot in which they were connected. From his hands on her sides and hips, to his lips all over her face and neck, to her thigh against his hip. She was surrounded in all things Dean, all of him touching and loving all of her.

"Dean." She felt on the verge of tears, her heart swelling with her emotions, the tender look in his glistening eyes saying more than words ever could.

"I know, Baby," he kissed her deeply, lifting her leg higher against his side and increasing his pace slightly.

Dean had never experienced sex like this before, with an intensity and purpose far beyond just getting off. He wanted to feel her, to savor every inch of her, to enjoy the climb to the summit with her. Every move, every sound she made had him moaning and biting his lip, using all his self-control to maintain his gentler pace.

When she tilted her hips, her thighs clenching around him, he immediately hit her sweet spot, making her gasp and clutch him tighter. He slowed even further, his arms under her shoulders holding her close as he smirked down at her.

"Right there, Baby?" he asked, thrusting his hips just enough that the spongey head of his dick hit her sensitive g-spot.

She threw her head back into the pillow, a guttural moan ripped deep from her chest. He took the opening, lowering his mouth to suck a mark on her exposed throat. Rolling his hips with deep fluid strokes, he felt her walls ripple as she grew closer and closer to her peak.

“I’m gonna make you cum so hard,” he promised, nipping at her ear lobe.

The moans fell from her lips with no control. It was a good thing he was holding onto to her so tightly, she felt like she might explode into a million pieces if he wasn't grounding her.

“Come for me, Baby. I wanna feel it,” he whispered in her ear, his breath panting in short bursts, his cock twitching inside her as he neared his own release.

Her eyes clenched shut, her breath held as his words pushed her dangerously to the edge. She tried to hold it back as long as she could, wanting to feel him just like this for as long as possible, but his relentless pounding made her efforts short-lived. Feeling him twitch inside her, hearing his grunts and hushed curses, her orgasm ripped through her entire being.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, watching her face as she climaxed in a beautiful explosion. His brow furrowed, his mouth hung open as she pulled him over the edge with her. He choked on a sound as his face fell to the crook of her neck, his hips pumping lazily until slowing to a stop. His body shook against hers before he slowly pulled from her, wincing at the effort.

Moving to lay beside her, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to lay on her side facing him. Leaning in, he captured her lips again, completely drunk on her. Turning to his back, he tucked her into his side, her arm draped across his middle.

I’m exhausted,” she giggled, “You’re amazing.”

He laughed, the post-coital bliss making his head spin. He wished it could always be like this. It didn't take her long to fall asleep, but Dean was hesitant to relax. He was terrified he'd wake up to find her gone again, or worse, that it was all a dream. Emotional and physical exhaustion won out in the end, so he gave in to the need to sleep, his arms still holding her close.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath as he suddenly came to consciousness. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he sat up a little, forcing his vision to focus. A bit of panic flared up in him, not immediately recognizing the room. Then he remember last night. Looking to the other side of the bed, it was empty, the sheets cool. The panic flared up again, wondering if she had left him like before.

He hastily dressed, donning his flannel after an unsuccessful attempt to find his t-shirt. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Dean made his way down the hall, peering into Ava's room and finding her gone as well. A sinking feeling landed in his stomach, twisting painfully.

The sound of familiar voices drew him through the house to the dining room. Ava was sat in her highchair, Sam and Mary sat either side of her, doting the small child with all of their attention and affection. His eyes drifted into the connected kitchen, seeing Y/N sipping on her coffee as she cooked breakfast.

Clearing his throat to annouce himself, Dean made his way to his mother first, leaning down and squeezing her shoulders as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"Mornin', Mom," he smiled, before moving on to Ava to do the same. "Mornin', Precious." He simply gave Sam an acknowledging nod and his brother returned the gesture. With a deep breath, he made his way into the kitchen.

Now that his panic had subsided, he felt like a guilt fool. He couldn't help but think she'd left him again. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, eyeing Y/N from head to toe.

"That's why I couldn't find my t-shirt," he smirked, seeing her wearing said clothing with a pair of shorts.

She blushed and finished cooking, turning everything off and putting it on plates to table to the table. As Dean looked over the dining table, everyone he cared about most together and alive in once place. It was something he could definitely get used to.

"So, are you and Ava coming back to the Bunker with us?" Mary asked as they all dug into the food.

"Oh, she's coming back!" Sam argued, "Even if I have to hogtie her and throw her in the backseat."

"Sam!" Mary chastized.

"He's not the only one she left," Sam accused, pointing at Y/N.

"Sam," Y/N was heartbroken. Her and Sam had been close friends as well and in the midst of everything with Dean, she honestly hadn't thought about how it might affect him too. "I'm so sorry. I was afraid, of a lot of things. But I am coming back. Ava and I are coming home."

She knew it would take time for them to fully forgive her and trust her again. She was willing to put in the work, to be patient and understanding. It wasn't their fault this mess happened. This time, it was all on her, and she intended to fix it come hell or high water.

"Good," Sam nodded, casually digging back into his breakfast. "You hurt him again and I'm coming for you."

Even though he flashed her a playful grin, she knew he wasn't entirely joking. She nodded and smiled, letting him know she understood. She had no intentions of leaving ever again. She'd found her family. Or rather, they'd found her. Seeing everyone together, she wondered why she was ever afraid to begin with.

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\Now, time to see about that bath, she muses to herself as she hobbles back through the bunker. And maybe another cup of tea.

“Hello, boys,” Rowena greets Sam and Dean as the door to their motel room opens for her, Sam standing to one side courteously and swinging his arm wide in invitation for the witch to enter. “How are you, Samuel?” She greets the taller of the brothers with a smile, and Sam bends down dutifully to allow her to kiss his cheek in greeting. 

“Good, Rowena, thanks,” he smiles easily. “How you been?” 

“Oh, well enough,” Rowena waves idly, setting down her bag and lowering herself elegantly onto the rickety wooden chair that Sam has pulled away from the table for her. “And you, Dean?” She raises her voice ever so slightly and calls out curiously, leaning forward to better see around the partition that divides the room’s amenities from the beds. 

Dean is lying back on one of the beds, atop the puce-green paisley quilt, his legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest. His head is tilted back against the brim of the headboard, his eyes shut in feigned rest, and he hadn’t moved a muscle since the witch arrived, however, it was still obvious that he wasn’t asleep, simply ignoring their present company. 

“Just peachy,” the eldest brother grunts, eyes remaining stubbornly shut. Rowena rolls her own eyes towards Sam in exasperation, as if to say ‘what bee’s gotten in his bonnet’? Sam shoots a tight-lipped look of disdain toward his brother and then shifts a look of apology to Rowena. 

“He’s grumpy because Y/N’s back at the bunker with a minor injury, and he’s blaming himself for no reason,” Sam stage whispers, as if he’s trying to spare Dean’s feelings but knowing full well the other man can hear him, which Dean illustrates by flipping Sam the bird from his still-unmoving position on the bed. 

“Oh,” Rowena frowns sympathetically. “Is the poor dear alright?” 

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Sam chuckles under his breath. “Dean just has a complex about everything being his fault when she’s on a hunt with us.” 

“It’s not a complex if it’s actually my fucking fault,” Dean hisses under his breath, but Sam chooses to ignore him for the present in favour of catching Rowena up to speed on their present predicament. 

There have been a string of strange deaths in the town of Jenson, Kentucky and Sam and Dean have a strong suspicion after speaking with some of the locals that it has to have something to do with the collection of colonial artefacts that had recently been unearthed from storage and put on display for the town’s founding anniversary. The early settlers of the area were largely Scottish, and just possibly, some of Rowena’s old acquaintances. Maybe even friends or distant relatives–her grandson had tried to make the crossing to America after all, if unsuccessfully. Sam knows that Rowena recognising the names on the original town charter and settlement rolls is a long shot, but with Y/N back at the bunker and no real clue what they were dealing with yet, he thought it was at least worth a shot to see if Rowena was amenable to helping them out. And they’re in luck. 

She and Sam collect their things and head out to visit the historical society library, where they can have a look at the documents, leaving Dean to sulk on his lonesome for the time being. 

“If you decide you want to cheer up and actually help, give me a call,” Sam slaps Dean’s booted feet by way of a farewell. 

Dean grunts unenthusiastically but knows he needs to pull himself together. He doesn’t want Sam all on his own if whatever’s been killing people turns up where he happens to be going. “Call me if you find something,” he shouts after Sam. “Don’t let her turn you into a frog or whatever.” 

“Charming, Dean,” Rowena grimaces lightly, too proud to stoop to the bait, and waltzes her way out of the motel room. “Come along, Samuel.” 

Dean makes a silent whipping motion in retaliation that makes Sam feel a strong urge to stick his tongue out at his older brother, but he quashes down the immature impulse and settles for an unimpressed look before he grabs his shoulder bag and follows Rowena outside, the motel room door slowly drifting closed behind him.

Y/N putters around the bunker on her hobbled ankle easily enough. Sure it still hurts if she puts her entire weight on it or bends the ankle too far to the side, but the injury is really more of a nuisance at this point than an actual pain. If she continues her regime of keeping it elevated with an ice pack for a few hours a couple of times a day she thinks she’ll be up and running again in no time. 

Glancing at her phone while she waits for the water in her pot to boil on the stove, Y/N wonders what Sam and Dean might be up to right now. They’ve been gone a few days already, and she knows Sam called Rowena in two days ago for some extra backup because he suspects the thing making the unsuspecting Kentuckians disappear may be magical, Scottish, or likely, both. Sam and Rowena have an odd kinship, sort of like what Dean has with Cas when he joins them for a hunt from time to time. Y/N likes Rowena just fine, and in reality, so does Dean, but he pretends not to. Given their rocky history, Y/N doesn’t blame Dean one bit, and honestly, it’s quite funny watching him go all grumpy whenever she’s around. His grumpy pout is equal parts cute and sexy in Y/N’s eyes. 

Reasoning that it’s been a few hours since Dean had texted her to say that they were heading out into the woods to find the original dig site of the artefacts that they think might be causing the unexplained sidewalk drownings, Y/N decides it’s not too clingy to give her boyfriend a call. Just to get an update. She’s not worried or anything. The water comes to a boil with an advertising bubbling over onto the stovetop, producing a shrill hiss as the foam hits the open gas flames tickling the bottom of the pot, and Y/N quickly jumps into action, putting in the pasta and turning on the extractor fan to keep down the bubbles. Dinner now safely progressing again, she grabs her phone and flips it open to recent calls, hitting Dean’s name and letting it ring. 

“Hello?” Her boyfriend’s gruff, slightly tinny voice answers the call after a few rings. 

“Hey there,” Y/N smiles.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asks quickly, an edge of concern in his tone, and Y/N can’t help rolling her eyes. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one out hunting ancient Scottish fishing equipment or whatever,” she scoffs lightly, and Dean chuckles under his breath. Y/N can imagine how his cheeks might blush a little under his stubble as he responds.

“You know I worry about you when we’re gone. Fuck knows what’s hiding in some of those old boxes.” 

“Well, there’s a comforting thought,” Y/N smirks to herself. “I’m fine, Dean. Promise. I just wanted to see how it was going with you guys.” 

“Sam and witch-bitch have me out here spelunking through hillbilly backcountry looking for rusty fish hooks that are just as likely to kill me as give me tetanus, so you, I’m awesome,” Dean groans. It sounds like he might have found somewhere to sit down for a minute, and Y/N thinks she can hear running water in the background too. 

“You’re going through caves on your own?” she raises an eyebrow unhappily. “You guys should really stick in a group if you’re going into Appalachian caves, it’s really easy to get lost up there.” 

“Caves?” Dean asks.

“You said you were spelunking, that means cave exploring,” Y/N points out. 

“Oh, well,” Dean clears his throat. “I’m doing whatever the river version of that is, then. No caves, don’t worry.” The running water in the background makes a little more sense now. “And we’re not really split up. I can see Sam’s antlers further upstream, we’re just spread out a bit to cover more ground.” 

“Oh, well that doesn’t sound so bad the–AHH!” Y/N yelps in shock as the pasta water bubbles over again, making an evil hissing noise and splashing a bit of the boiling water onto the hand she had leaned against the kitchen counter. 

“Y/N!? What’s wrong?!” Dean demands, his voice suddenly serious and sharp as iron. 

“It’s fine,” Y/N pants, quickly turning down the gas on the stove and grabbing something to stir the pot with in order to dissipate the bubbles. “It’s fine,” she repeats, a little less breathlessly. “I let the water boil over and it startled me. It’s fine.” 

“Y/N…” Dean growls, warning her that she had better not be lying to him. 

“Telling the truth! I promise,” she giggles. “You’re just distracting me from cooking, as usual.” 

“Well, I am very distracting,” her boyfriend responds in an instantly flirty manner like it’s an automatic response he has no control over. Sometimes Y/N thinks he really doesn’t. 

“Yes, you are,” she agrees, teeth sinking into her lower lip thoughtfully. “Maybe when you’re done spelunking later tonight you can distract me some more. Netflix is getting boring.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Dean grins, his cocky smile practically visible even over the phone. “You need something different to concentrate on tonight, sweetheart? Something a little more… entertaining?” 

“Well, if you’re not too busy,” Y/N shrugs even though she knows he can’t see her, trying to play it off as if she’s not overly eager for the attention. Downright desperate would be a better description actually, but Dean doesn’t need that ego boost just now. 

“Oh, for you baby, never too…” Dean trails off. Y/N hears a splash, and what might be a garbled shout in the distance. “I’ve gotta go.” 

The line goes dead, and Y/N stands mutely in front of the pasta. It’s nearly ready, but she’s not really hungry anymore.

Dean helps Sam limp back through the motel door, the taller brother’s arm slung over Dean’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around Sam’s waist, carefully avoiding the gash in his side. Rowena glides along behind them, unconcerned as if she’s bored by the proceedings. Goddamn Kelpie had gotten the jump on Sam while Dean had been on the phone to Y/N. Yet another injury that can be added to the list of things that are Dean’s fault. 

Sam sits gingerly on the edge of the bed while Dean goes for the whiskey and the first aid kit, and Rowena sits opposite Sam on the other bed, giving him a sympathetic once-over. 

“Does it sting, dearie?” she asks as Sam peels off his t-shirt, wincing when the cotton unsticks itself from his skin where the blood has already dried. 

“Yeah,” Sam grunts, raising a brow at the witch. “How’d you know.” 

“Kelpies have highland nettle essence in their tails,” she explains sagely in her lilting voice. “Getting whipped with the end isn’t fatal, but it’ll sting and itch something fierce for a while.” 

“Great,” Dean grunts, kneeling in front of Sam to inspect the wound. He uncorks the bottle of whiskey with his teeth and splashes a little over the area to wash off the tacky blood. Sam grunts, biting back the pain, and Dean’s face twitches in a conflicted mash of a smirk and a grimace; half big-brotherly pride, half big-brotherly guilt. 

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam huffs in exasperation, noticing the look on his brother’s face. 

“If I hadn’t been on the phone–” Dean begins to argue, already beating himself up, but Sam cuts across him angrily. 

“No! Cut the crap, Dean! You were at least a hundred yards away when the thing grabbed me. You wouldn’t have stopped its tail slicing me if you hadn’t been on the phone unless you can teleport like Cas and forgot to tell me about it,” Sam raises a stern brow in challenge and Dean almost lets himself be cowed but tries again to protest.

“I was distracted worrying about Y/N, if I hadn’t wandered so far away then maybe I’d have gotten back quicker,” Dean reasons. 

“And maybe the Kelpie would have gotten the jump on you instead’a me? Is that what you’re sayin’?” Sam asks angrily. Dean merely shrugs, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he roots through the first aid kit looking for gauze and medical tape. “Dean, we’re both hunters here. We’re both shouldering the risks of going after these things. And it’s the same with Y/N. She knows the risks of hunting and she takes responsibility for herself when she’s out here with us. You’re not going to be the only one to ever get hurt while we’re hunting, and quite frankly you shouldn’t be, otherwise, you’d probably be dead. It’s not like these are serious hurts, I don’t even need stitches!”

“Y/N is in this because of me,” Dean growls defensively as if Sam’s suggestion that he’s not responsible for every little paper cut anyone around him gets is actually offensive. “She never woulda known about hunting or monsters or been around any of that crap if we weren’t together, so anything that happens to her is on me. And anything that happens to my little brother? Of course, that’s on me too!” 

“Tell you what is gonna be your fault, is when I punch you in the face in a minute for being such an idiot!” Sam scolds Dean, tearing the first aid kit away from him in irritation to finish tending to his own wound. “Go call Y/N so she knows nobody died. She’s probably worrying her head off right now.” 

Dean glares at Sam but ceases arguing, hauling himself up from the floor between the beds and stomping outside to call Y/N and let her know they’re all okay. Mostly. Sam rolls his eyes at the back of the slamming door as Dean exits to the parking lot, and the shake of Rowena’s red curls catches his attention. 

“What?” he asks, eyeing her contemplative look with a hint of apprehension. 

“Oh, nothing,” she sighs heavily. “I was simply lamenting the fact that he feels so burdened by it all.” 

“Tell me about it,” Sam scoffs, wincing a little as he spreads some antibiotic ointment over his cut. It’s not deep, but it is beginning to itch like a motherfucker. “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself. And Y/N is just as capable. I think he’s worried that deep down we secretly blame him too, or something. But I guess there’s no way to convince him we don’t if he doesn’t want to believe it.” The younger brother shrugs in resignation. 

“Oh…I don’t know about that,” Rowena muses. “A way for him to know that you two don’t blame him, you say?” 

“Yeah…” Sam looks at the witch hesitantly while a smile blooms across her rose-pink lips. 

“His birthday is next week, right?” she checks and Sam nods affirmatively. “I may just pop out and get you boys something for dinner. And maybe a little treat, as an early birthday celebration.” 

“Rowena–” Sam stands and starts to go after her, but she holds up a hand to stop him. 

“It’s nothing nefarious, Samuel. It’s a simple spell, temporary. He’ll never know until it kicks in.” 

“Until what kicks in?” 

“It’s a sort of mutual feeling,” Rowena explains. “Something that won’t let him read thoughts so much as emotions, sensations. I can do it with wee Y/N since I sense that’s who he feels truly upset about. Am I right?” 

Sam nods slowly. It actually sounds like exactly the kind of thing that could convince Dean that they’re telling the truth when they say they’re alright and that they don’t blame him. And having the stick removed from his ass would probably make Dean better able to concentrate when he’s hunting if he’s not worrying so much about Y/N instead of looking after himself. 

“He won’t know until it’s done?” Sam checks. Dean is not a fan of magic, he’d never agree to let them spell him if he has a choice in it. 

“Won’t suspect a thing,” Rowena smirks.

Dean wakes up feeling a wave of energy that he almost never experiences first thing in the morning. He sits up on the crappy motel bed with a sore back but somehow simultaneously feeling like he’s gotten a sound night of ten hours of sleep on his memory foam mattress back in the bunker. There’s a faint hum in his ears like he can hear his blood as it drifts through his body, pumping from heart to head to toes and back up the circuit. There’s a slight twinge in his ankle that he doesn’t remember being there when he went to bed, but it really just feels like pins and needles or like he’s slept on it funny. Getting up gingerly, he puts his weight on both feet and finds a dull soreness in the limb but nothing debilitating. 

Weird, he thinks to himself, yawning as he stumbles towards the coffee machine and bangs through making a pot. The cupcakes Rowena had brought last night with dinner are still sitting on the counter next to the machine, two empty holes in the container and two more cupcakes still sitting there, appetisingly. Dean grabs one and crams it into his mouth over the course of two bites while he makes his way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day. In the shower, he contemplates doing something with the half-there morning wood he’s sporting but is suddenly desperate to get his coffee and get on the road to start the drive back to Kansas–and Y/N. 

It’s a nearly fourteen-hour drive, so it will be a fucking long day, but they can do it in one if he speeds on some of the country highways, Dean reasons. There’s a foreign warmth in his chest that’s making him feel like he absolutely has to get back and see Y/N today. As soon as possible. Somehow, he can just tell that she’s really missing him right now. Not that he’s not missing her, because of course he is, but this doesn’t feel like his feeling. And that thought alone is fucking weird. How the hell would he be feeling a feeling that isn’t his own? It should make him feel a little pig-headed, imagining that Y/N is desperately missing him, but he tries not to beat himself up about it. 

Y/N told him she missed him when they were on the phone last night, after all. It’s not like he’s imagining it or just inventing it out of thin air. There’s always a bit of a pull when they’re apart from each other. That’ll happen when you wind up dating/living with the first girlfriend you’ve ever had. There were other girlfriends between Y/N and Dean separating and them getting back together, considering they had only been eight the first time they ‘dated’. But there’s always been a sense of fate drawing them back together, of them not being meant to stay apart for too long. Fuck, when did he start thinking about it so sappily? Obviously, Dean’s always felt that way, but he doesn’t remember ever thinking about it in exactly those terms before. What is going on? 

Dean sips his coffee, not even remembering pouring it for himself in the fog of thoughts and feelings his brain has become this morning, and he decides not to worry about it too much. It’s kind of nice, actually, feeling so confident in how much they love each other. Thinking about Y/N isn’t leaving him with the same bitter taste of ‘what if…’ that it typically does, and he doesn’t know why, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Y/N looks around the bunker at a loss, feeling a profound sense of boredom and a deep longing for Dean to be home already. She checks the clock on the wall of the library again, in the vain hope that more than a few minutes have passed since the last time she looked up, but no luck. Checking her messages, there’s nothing new from Dean in the past few hours, which makes sense because he’s driving. She hadn’t been lying to him on the phone yesterday when she’d said Netflix was starting to get boring. She’s watched as much Friends as she can stomach right now, and she promised Sam she wouldn’t download the new Game of Thrones episode without him, so she’s at a bit of a loss for what to watch to while the hours away. 

With a smirk to herself, Y/N thinks about what Dean would do in this situation. Just watch porn. Deciding to head to the kitchen for a snack, Y/N makes her way to the refrigerator and stands in front of the industrial silvers coolers, scanning the shelves for something that appeals. She really isn’t particularly hungry, she realises as she stares aimlessly at the food. Except for… There’s a small throb low in her stomach, but it isn’t hunger per se. It is a desire.  A need. The ‘what would Dean do’ possibility floats back across her mind and Y/N purses her lips. 

You know what, why the fuck not? 

Dean stares blankly at the mostly empty highway through the Impala’s dashboard, eyes unconsciously darting back and forth across the lanes of traffic and fields of dirt that will be wheat or corn when spring hits in a few months. They go over a pothole that he doesn’t notice in time to swerve around, and the chassis jostles beneath him. Randomly, a twinge of arousal thrums through him, deep in his hips, like a pulse of bright heat. Just for a second, and then it burns out again. He feels a look of confusion cross his face, wondering where the hell that had come from. Sure he loves his car, but not that much. 

Must have been the pothole, he thinks after a brief interrogation of his thoughts over the past few minutes, unable to come up with another explanation.

Y/N settles back into the memory foam mattress comfortably, on Dean’s side of the bed, pulling his pillows around her to surround herself with his familiar scent. Under the comforter, she slides her sweatpants down her legs and then brings her fingers back up to her panties, teasing the small bundle of nerves between her legs through the fabric while she browses for something… stimulating to watch on her phone. It takes a few minutes of scrolling and lazy touching, but she eventually settles on something that looks like it will be more than suitable. 

Pulling her hand back out from beneath the covers, she reaches out for the toy she left out, now eager to get down to business. 

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat again, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He’s driving his car with his giant little brother crunched into the seat next to him and Metallica on the radio. Perfectly normal, everyday situation. Nothing exciting or even remotely arousing about his current set of circumstances. But for the past ten minutes or so, he’s felt himself growing steadily more and more alert in the pants department. And try as he might to think of dead puppies or wendigos or Sam, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling.

There’s a sharp twitch of arousal and suddenly he’s at full mast, nothing slow about the build-up like the past few minutes, and his hips jerk off the seat in surprise. 

“Dude, what is going on?” Sam demands in irritation, looking up from his phone and across the bench seat at his brother. Dean feels himself blush in humiliation and frustration at not understanding what the fuck is happening to him, praying that Sam won’t notice anything untoward. 

His hopes do not pan out. 

“Dean, what the fuck?!” 

Y/N is definitely not bored anymore. She’s gone through the first video, and a second, and she’s very much enjoyed her new entertainment material. Way better than Friends. Since it’s still a while until she’s expecting Dean and Sam back though, she decides to just go ahead and make an afternoon of it, working herself up and then backing off when she starts to get a little too close to the edge. The constant buzz and pressure from her clit-sucking vibrator are perfect for helping her to just relax and enjoy the pleasure washing over her. It’s been a while since she’s had the opportunity to really enjoy edging herself, so she’s milking this chance for all it’s worth. 

With a pang of desire between her legs, she clicks on the video title that has just popped up on the screen with enthusiasm. Doggy Fucking In My Classic Car. The car isn’t the right decade or manufacturer, but it is black, with a black interior, and the guy in the video is lean with short, light brown hair. It’s close enough. When he goes down on the girl in the backseat and memories flood her mind, Y/N lets herself moan loudly in appreciation. 

Dean moans. He flat-out moans. Like he’s in a fucking porno. 

“Seriously!? Dean, what the fuck?!” Sam shouts in disgust, giving Dean a look as if he’s a piece of trash they just fished out of the bottom of a lake. 

“I don’t know!” Dean shouts back, slamming the centre of the wheel in anger and accidentally honking the horn at a passing Honda, which honks back at him angrily. “Fuck,” he shudders, his dick actually jumping in excitement, and the pressure around its crown seems to be increasing somehow and Dean thinks he actually might start crying it feels so good and so frustrating at the same time. Because it’s been doing this for a fucking hour. 

“Dean!” Sam shouts, hand shooting out to grab the wheel and redirect the Impala because Dean’s just let go of the wheel entirely and almost let them swerve into the next lane of traffic. Dean is panting, his hands pressing desperately into his lap as if somehow the pressure will keep him from feeling like he’s about to cum in his jeans. It only makes it worse. With a monumental effort, Dean makes himself focus back on the road and retakes control of the wheel from Sam long enough to ease them off onto the shoulder of the highway, parked safely out of the way. 

“You’re gonna have to drive, Sammy,” Dean grunts, fumbling with the handle of his door and toppling out. He makes his way to the passenger side and collapses against the frame of the door that Sam leaves open for him. “Fuuuck,” he moans again, biting his lip, trying to keep quiet, but it’s becoming exponentially harder by the second. He’s gonna cum, he realises in horror. Right here, on the side of the road, with his brother right fucking there, sitting in the car two feet away. And Dean’s gonna cum in his pants. 

He wants to reach in and jerk himself off, help himself get there and get it over with, but he can’t exactly do that when his hips are currently at Sam's height while he’s slumped against the car, panting heavily, breath catching in his throat. Almost. There.

Y/N stretches out with a sigh when she’s finished, having worked herself through a couple of tiny orgasms following her big fall over the edge. It’s always easier to force herself into multiple when she’s been edging, and now every bit of her body feels warm and floppy and nice. Rolling over onto her side, she pulls Dean’s pillow under her head and cradles it in her arm, letting her eyes slide shut for a nap.  

Dean is going to hang Sam from the fucking rafters. And he’s gonna put a magical hit out on Rowena. He can’t fucking believe they would put a spell on him like that. How fucking invasive. For Dean and Y/N! Yeah. Sam and Rowena are dead meat. But Sam says the spell will only last for forty-eight hours, so that’s a relief at least. And Dean since the damage has already been done, Dean is going to take advantage of it while he can. No use crying over spilt spellwork. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean bangs through the door to the bunker and down the ironwork stairs with more excitement than belongs to him because he now knows that part of what he’s feeling is coming from Y/N thanks to Rowena’s spell. Said girlfriend comes skidding around the corner into the hallway and runs into his arms with relief. 

“I missed you,” Y/N mumbles into Dean’s shoulder, and it’s so so weird to feel the love that’s radiating off of her as Dean and as Y/N. It’s overwhelming, the depth of feeling that’s there, and it makes Dean’s breath catch in his chest as he crushes her to him, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head, smelling a comforting combination of her shampoo and the sweet scent she gets when she’s just woken up from sleeping. 

“I missed you too, baby,” Dean smiles, tilting her chin up and dropping a small kiss on her lips. Sweet and chaste. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he whispers against her mouth, and Y/N jerks back, startled. He levels her with a cocky smirk as she blinks at him, her face pinching in embarrassment. 

“How did you know?” Y/N can’t look him in the eye, and Dean chuckles under his breath at how cute and innocent she can be sometimes. No one would ever think she could get embarrassed if they saw her in the bedroom the way he’s seen her. 

“I’ll explain,” Dean grabs her hand and starts pulling her toward their bedroom. “Did you use your toys?” he asks, eyes darkening as he takes in the disarray of their bedcovers and the slightly open nightstand drawer. 

“Yeah,” Y/N answers breathlessly, the shadow of a giggle.

“The sucking one?” Dean asks knowingly. He had run through the possibilities in his head endlessly on the drive home, and considering the sensations he’d been privy to, that’s the toy that seemed to fit the most. He can see now why she likes it as much as she does. 

“Seriously, how the fuck do you know?!” Y/N demands, letting Dean push her down on the bed and kissing him back eagerly when he climbs over her. 

“I’ll explain,” he repeats elusively, kissing down Y/N’s body and peeling her clothes off as he goes until she’s spread out and naked beneath him. He presses her thighs open, exposing the glistening folds of her cunt. He wonders if that’s from her afternoon’s activities or if that’s just appeared since he’s come home. “First, I need to know what it feels like to have this pussy fucked on my tongue.”

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“We liked it…very much,” the alpha laughs as you finally let go of him. “You see, Dean hates unfinished business. Please take his money and buy some flowers or more pink pillows.”

“I told him before; I don’t want his money. Nothing happened, Sam. I had two bruised knees and a scratch on my forehead. No biggie,” Sam smiles as you are a ray of sunshine to him. “Do you want to come in and join me for lunch? I’m done with work for today.”

“It’s barely noon,” looking at his watch Sam frowns.

“I work from home most of the day,” you shrug. “I’m a day trader for a few hours and a pink enthusiast and creative mind the rest of the day.”

“A day trader?” the alpha chokes on air. He believed you are an artist, or florist, or anything in between. “Whoa…that’s not what I thought you’d do for a living.”

“It’s creative in its own way,” he nods, still not believing you are more than a silly girl enchanting his brother. “Numbers, and mathematics. It’s like my mind can relax when I do this and afterward, I put all my energy into one of my projects.”

“That’s kind of—” Sam bites his tongue. He didn’t want to judge your lifestyle or appearance. It’s just that you are a cute and lovely omega to him. He never thought you have such a stressful job and love it. “So, you work from home for only a few hours?”

“I used to work at a day trading firm, wasting most of my time. One day I had a change of mind. I realized that I hated my boss, and the way he treated me. I quit, and only focused on these few hours per day. Afterward, I can do whatever I want to do.”

“What do we want to do with my brother? Dean will not give in, Y/N,” you silently nod. “Please help me here.”

“Okay, Sam,” you pat his chest. “How about he donates to the animal shelter and buys Mrs. Babcock some flowers? She loves roses. Yellow roses are her favorites.”

“You are a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“Open the door, omega,” Dean repeatedly knocks at your door. “I want to talk to you about the donation and the flowers. Sammy said you don’t want to take my money.”

“Hi, Dean,” you open the door, smiling softly as Dean stands in front of your house, a bottle of wine in his arms. “What’s with the wine?”

“I was on my way to—” he knits his brows together as you already tug at his wrist to invite him into your home. “I got wine, sweetheart. I thought we could share it.”

“I’m not much of a wine drinker,” you walk toward your kitchen to get a wine glass and one for juice. “Would you be mad if I drink my homemade lemonade?”

“Do you always make lemonade? How do you make it? What do you use?” he follows you inside your kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me that you are a day trader?”

“I got freshly baked banana cream pie, too,” Dean licks his lips as you open the fridge. “I just wanted to eat my homemade fish sticks. Do you like fish sticks? I’ll share with you.”

“Uh, yeah. I like fish,” he lies poorly. “It’s not a burger or pizza, but fish is fine.” Dean salivates as you hold a plate with homemade lasagna under his nose. “Lasagna. You are trying to bribe me, huh? What’s your endgame?”

“What is your endgame, Dean? Why did you come here? I agreed that you can give your money to the animal shelter and buy Mrs. Babcock some flowers. Why is this not enough?”

“I came here to...,” he follows you inside your living room. “I don’t know, to be honest. For the first time in ages, I got a day off and didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Awesome,” you state. “This way I can show you my newest slippers. You won’t be able to guess what I made this time.”

“A pink panther?” he smirks now. “A pink alligator? A pink turtle.”

“You’re not nice again,” pointing your index finger at Dean you make sure he knows this is strike one. “I made you a pair with your car.”

“Wait—what? You made me slippers with Baby?” Dean purrs low in his throat. “Can I see them? Did you already finish them? Can I try them on?”

“Just a minute,” you put the plate with your fish sticks on the coffee table. “I want to know if you will leave me alone now.”

“No,” he huffs, making you gasp. “I still owe you a few bucks. My lawyer told me I still must pay you ten more bucks.”

“Ten bucks, you say, Mr. Winchester,” you giggle as he gets his wallet out to wave ten bucks in front of your face. “I’m not into your money. You should give it to someone needing it more.”

“I can pay you for the slippers,” he offers. “You already made me a pair. I can’t take another one for free.”

“If you’ll leave me alone then, I’ll take your ten bucks,” Dean looks at the money. He frowns deeply; huffs and crumples up the ten bucks. “What was that?”

“This way, I still owe you the ten bucks. Now, how about you show me these slippers you were talking about? We can eat later…”

“I like them. Very much. I want you to become my personal slipper designer,” Dean looks down at his feet. He’s wearing the slippers you made for him, grinning from ear to ear. “I mean, I want to come back and eat ice cream with you.”

“Last time you left me hanging and drove to that meeting,” you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t believe you.”

“How about I invite you to ice cream and dinner, sweetheart?” he scoots a little closer to place his hand on your thigh. “I’ll raise you to a whole lot of flowers. We can go to your favorite flower shop.”

“You want to spend time with me at a flower shop?” Dean slowly nods as you look at him. “Good. Then I’ll spend time with you at your favorite place next.”

“It’s Bobby’s garage,” he explains. “I like to work on my car and get my hands dirty. Do you want to come with me tomorrow?”

“That sounds like fun,” you lean your head against Dean’s shoulder. “You know that I like how you smell, right?”

“Of course, you do,” he whispers while moving his arm around your shoulders. “You’re my true mate, sweetheart…”

>> Part 3

A phone call in the middle of the night was never a good sign. You wearily picked up your phone, sitting up in bed and yawning as you answered.

“Dean,” you said, rubbing your eyes. 

“Hey,” he said, voice a little breathy. “This is kinda embarrassing-”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I sort of need a ride. You uh, know how I had a date tonight?”

“What’s her name, Casey, yeah. Everything okay?” you asked, climbing out of bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor.

“Um…well good news is the dinner I had tonight was amazing. Bad news, she kicked me out of her car on the side of the road,” he said. You froze, blinking a few times.

“She what?”

“We got in a little fight and she got pissed cause I didn’t act like a dick to a guy that wasn’t acting like a dick to her and yeah, I’m uh, sort of on the side of some dark as fuck backwoods road at the moment.”

“...Why?”

“She kinda drove out of town cause she was driving and we were arguing and she pulled off the highway somewhere. I do see some small town diner down the road. Very, very far down the road.”

“Text me the road and I’ll meet you at that diner,” you said, thunder cracking overhead. You peeled back your curtains and saw rain hitting the windows. “Please tell me you have a coat.”

“I have that nice gray sweater you bought me for my birthday,” he said. “Although it is kind of soaked.”

“I’m gonna kill this bitch when I see her,” you mumbled, yanking up your pants, going into your closet and finding a pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie you’d stolen from him in there. “I’ll bring you some warm clothes, okay?”

“Thanks. She’s not a bitch. We had a little-”

“I’ve known you since I was five. If some guy ditched me on the side of the road in the middle of the night, what do you think you’d be doing?”

“Kill him,” he said. “Yeah, well, we broke up anyways so you’ll never have to see her again.”

“Good call,” you said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can Dean. Just stay away from strangers and if you hear a chainsaw-”

“I don’t need that mental image right now, Y/N,” he said. “Be careful driving. Rain is coming down pretty hard.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, heading out to your front door. “I’ll be right there.”

You shook off the rain when you stepped inside the diner, Dean sat in the corner booth, shaking slightly, holding his hands over the radiator vent behind the seat.

“Dean,” you said walking over, his head turning your way, a big smile on his face.

“Aw. Your pajamas have a little fox on them. Wait. Are those the same ones from high school?”

“Yes, they are,” you said, holding out the fresh clothes to him. “Go get out of those wet clothes. There’s underwear in there too.”

“How-”

“I stopped at the dollar store quick on the way here. Figured you’d be soaked,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the items and quickly ducking into the bathroom. You sat down at the booth, the lone waitress at the counter walking over, a menu in her hand. 

“He said he was waiting for a ride,” she said.

“Do you have any tomato soup? Or grilled cheese?” you asked.

“Yeah we can do that. For you?” she asked.

“Um, I’ll have a slice of that pumpkin pie. Oh and do you have onion rings? And coffee?” you asked.

“Be out in a few minutes,” she said, turning and leaving, Dean exiting the bathroom after a minute. He slid back into the booth, tucking into your side, your hands going to his. 

“You’re freezing,” you said. 

“I’m okay,” he breathed out. You reached into your purse and pulled out a small oval shaped thing, ripping it out of the baggie and shoving it into the pouch of his hoodie. “What’s that?”

“It’s a hand warmer cause someone always teases me about my cold little hands,” you said, reaching in and turning it on. He shut his eyes and smiled when it started to give off heat, Dean humming.

“Oh I love you, so much.”

“I know. I ordered you some hot food to warm up. Then we’ll head home okay?” you said. He hummed, kicking off his boots and sitting cross legged, toes tucked under his legs. “You really are far out. Like you must have been arguing for awhile.”

“I mean…yeah, we were. The me not causing drama for her when there was none started it and eventually we got to how I supposedly really like you and treat you like my girlfriend and her saying she’s not taking a backseat to you. I told her she could leave then cause you come with the package.”

“Right, right,” you said, rubbing his back. “So you’re saying she was out of line and I’m just your best friend? It’s that simple?”

“Well…” he trailed off. You smiled, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “How obvious have I been?”

“I had a sneaking suspicion in third and twelfth grade but I let it go. But you did just accidentally text me something I think was meant to go to Sam. Something like, I should have been dating Y/N the whole time?” you said. His cheeks flushed and you smiled. “You know, dating could be a good thing. A really good thing. If you want to really give it a-”

He tilted his head, meeting your lips, smiling through it before finally pulling back. 

“Yeah, I like that,” he said softly. 

“Good. I like that too.” Your food came out and you took Dean’s wet sweater and other clothes from him, giving him more room to eat. “You know when I bought that sweater I just kept thinking how cute you’d look in it.”

“Not my usual style but I like it.”

“Oh really? Why?”

“Because it’s my lucky sweater. I got you didn’t I?” he said. You laughed and nodded, Dean’s eyes going big when your pie came out. “Oh you even got me pie!”

“We’re sharing that Winchester.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he said, smirking and bumping your shoulder. You bumped him back, Dean chuckling. “Thanks for having my back always, means a lot.”

“Always Dean. Always. Now eat up so we can get the hell out of this place.”

The truth is: to be human means everything. It can’t be narrowed down to one single trait. It’s the sum of every little part that makes the whole.

Love and hate. Joy and sadness. Empathy and anger. Pride and shame. Hope and fear.

Being human means trying your best, even through loss, heartbreak, and pain. To be human means everything – the good and the bad.

One sunny morning in Lawrence City, KS…

The fire station is pleasantly quiet in the early morning hours, the sun rays flooding in through the big scarlet garage doors providing the green-eyed firefighter with sufficient lighting as he gives the engine a few touch-ups and checks if any of the hoses need patching while sipping blissfully on his coffee. He always enjoys the silence and calm of the mornings, knowing full well how fast the day can quite literally heat up in a city inhabited by two million.

“Good morning, Winchester!”

Her chipper voice echoes through the deserted garage, his head shooting up to her with a wide smile as she saunters towards him with an enthusiastic swing in her hips and a coffee in hand. There’s no doubt Y/N’s his favorite person out of the two million living in Lawrence City.

“Morning,” he chuckles and sets the rag and cleaner aside when she stops so close in front of him he can practically smell the cherry body wash on her skin from this morning’s shower. “What’s gotten you in such a good mood today? You’re not usually a morning person.”

Honestly, Y/N is the kind of person that just glows whenever she enters a room (even in the mornings). No matter where she goes, she instantly makes everything brighter, illuminates even the darkest spots – pure fucking sunshine in a bottle. If she were a drink, she’d probably be marketed as that. Maybe that’s why she’s been his best friend for ages – he’s mostly rain and thunder and he knows Y/N’s probably the only person that willingly puts up with his bullshit. Sam’s just forced to. That’s just how it works with brothers. With Y/N around him, though, even Dean’s darkest clouds always seem to dissipate.

“Well, uh, today I am a morning person and you’d be too if you had a big story coming up,” she announces with that broad grin of hers, showing off her cute dimples that he loves seeing so much. It instantly makes his mornings better. He craves her smile with his caffeine at this point; otherwise, it’s just a bad day guaranteed.

She pulls out her tape recorder and holds it up to his face, no boundaries whatsoever for personal space. Her eyes focus on the little freckles that dust his nose and the way it twitches when he tries to play annoyed but is actually biting back a smile. “Speaking of which, any comment on the fire last night? My sources are saying it was arson.”

Amused over her little trick, he sniggers, “No comment. You know I can’t tell you.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes back dramatically, “Oh, c’mon, Winchester! What’s a girl gotta do to get a good story around here? First Jo, then you. The people of Lawrence City have a right to know what’s going on in their hometown. Freedom of press… all that.”

Laughing, he shakes his head at her. She’s always been like this – eager, tenacious, and never taking no for an answer. “Hey, if your sister, the detective, refuses to give out any info, I sure as hell won’t either. Not falling for that again, sweetheart.”

She playfully narrows her eyes at him and stores her recorder back in her bag, adding another theatrical sigh to her reply, “Fine. Buzzkill… If I get fired, though, I’m blaming you.”

“If you get fired, I’ll buy you a drink at the bar. How does that sound?”

“Drinks,” she corrects him with a smirk.

“Drinks,” he nods resolutely and winks, seeing her cheeks flush a little. He loves he’s had that effect on her since they were little. “Are you coming to Sammy’s birthday party tonight?”

“Duh. Wouldn’t miss it. Can’t believe that little dork is turning twenty-three. We’re getting old, Winchester,” she huffs with a laugh, gracefully guiding the paper cup to her lips without spilling anything on her white blouse tucked into a pair of washed-out high-waisted jeans.

“Speak for yourself,” the firefighter chuckles. “Still don’t feel a day older than twenty.”

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed by all the wrinkles on your face,” she sasses, smirking.

He glares a little at her, but it’s all fun and games. It wouldn’t be Y/N and Dean if there wasn’t the occasional bickering and bantering. That’s just how they rolled. And honestly, he’s glad she keeps his ego in check, keeps him grounded. He knows he needs that.

“Ha ha. Don’t you have a job to get to? No wonder your editor hates you,” Dean retorts and she raises her hands in surrender, slowly retreating backwards out of the garage with a sly grin.

“Say no more. I’m going… Tell Sasquatch I’m coming a little later. Still have that big event at COSMOS tonight!” she shouts from the curb.

“Oh, yeah, right. Good luck!” he calls after her, trying not to seem too worried whenever she goes out on an assignment. It’s not like her job is dangerous – she’s thankfully not reporting out of a riot in the Middle East – but knowing Y/N as well as he does, she’d find the danger somehow anyway. That girl is trouble through and through. “And Y/N? If you run into trouble-”

“Run away from the danger, not towards it! I know! I got it! You tell me every time,” she shouts back, laughing like a teenager at a worrying father. He can still see the little mischievous twinkle in her eyes from feet away. It’s crazy hot every time she does it and all he wants is to smack her goddamn ass, but alas, he’s left to resort to words alone.

“Never seems to take, though!”

Smiling softly, he leans against the fire engine, a little sigh leaving his plump lips as he watches her disappear down the busy street, her hips swaying with every joyful step.

“Are you ever gonna tell that girl how you feel?”

The firefighter startles and spins around to look into a set of shining blue eyes, “Geez, man, you scared me.”

Benny only laughs wholeheartedly in response, “Sorry, brother. Didn’t mean to wake you from your daydream.”

“I wasn’t-… She’s not-…,” Dean starts to argue, opening and closing his mouth several times, and then stops with a swallow, knowing it’s not going to help his case the more he says. Instead, he fixes a glare at his co-worker, “We’re best friends. She’s just Y/N to me, man. I’ve known her since I was five. She’s like a little sister to me.”

Ouch. That lie even hurt him. He doesn’t want to think of Y/N as his little sister because he’s had way too many R-rated dreams about her over the years to stomach that with a clean conscience. He’d be the worst big brother ever. Not to mention, she’s only seven months younger than him and has always been more mature by like, light-years. So if anything, she’d be more like his older sister or even his mom. Wait… God, no, it’s just getting worse now, isn’t it?

Let’s just say she’s the one and only Y/N to him. She’s unique in her uniqueness, you know? So Dean has always put their friendship on a pedestal and held it close to his heart. She’s been pretty much special to him ever since he saved her from that bullying kindergartner on the playground when they were both only five years old. Maybe it’s because she’s called him her hero after and kissed his cheek, and that just did things to him he can’t explain to this day. It’s like she became his after that and it was just a sealed deal, you know? The gold standard of the best-friends-forever club.

Of course, romantic feelings have surfaced on occasion over the years. When they were six, he asked her to marry him and they even held a ceremony in Y/N’s backyard. There’s still video of it, too. Their moms just loved to haul that one outta the attic whenever Christmas arrived – so much so, he and Y/N ended up calling it Cringemas. Honestly, the video is cute altogether. He still remembers his ‘vows’ word for word, even though it’s been so long. Isn’t that just weird?

Then there is the time when they were sixteen, at the height of teenage hormones, and he almost kissed her during a high school Halloween party at Suzy Lee’s place before a call from his crying little brother luckily prevented him from making a huge fucking mistake. He still doesn’t know what came over him there. It was probably the cheap vodka and he assumes she must’ve looked nice in that porch light when they sat alone outside, away from the party because she knows he hates the crowds, so she kept him company on the steps, their knees softly touching and thighs pressing together. But yeah, he’s still glad Sam puked during apple bobbing. Besides, it was fucking hilarious, too.  

And then there is the time when they celebrated their college graduation in his apartment – well, his community college degree and Y/N’s actual degree from the University of Lawrence City, although Y/N would smack his head if she’s heard him saying that out loud.

That night, they almost ended up in bed together. Like, they actually discussed… having sex… with each other, which was mind-blowing at the time. Honestly, it still would be. If she asked him to have sex right now, his head would explode. And granted, they were both hammered that night, like stupidly drunk, obviously. But he recalls being fucking hard because he’s never heard her say so many dirty words before. He didn’t even know she knew that many, but whatever innocence he’s ascribed to her before that night was definitely gone out the window once she opened that naughty mouth of hers. All he wanted to do after that was to just ravage her entire body then and there. He still remembers one of his hands was around her neck and the other…

Yup, his left hand definitely touched a boob. Yeah, okay, so what? It was one boob, sue him. One boob and the nipple a little bit – through fabric. It basically doesn’t count and he never thinks about it.

In all honesty, he thinks about it a lot, actually, and grins like an idiot too while doing it. But he swears he always feels bad right after. (Also, he still remembers it was his left hand. Like why?!)

Anyways, he almost kissed her, again, before Sam, again, burst through the door because the library closed and he couldn’t study for his SATs any longer, so his little brother plopped down on the couch between them and turned on the TV.

Somehow he sounds a little bitter about it now, but he promises he isn’t. Dean’s happy they’ve never crossed the line and ruined their friendship for good, always recovering the next day with a laugh and continuing on as if nothing ever happened. They have always been there for each other – good times and especially bad times. He held her for hours when her dad died and she slept on the ground next to him on the couch for months when his mother passed. They helped each other through loss, heartbreak, and cheaters, their friendship never wavering even during the strongest storm.

One thing is abundantly clear, though, through all their ups and downs: Dean can’t stand the idea of losing his best friend. He just doesn’t want to cover her sunshine with his clouds. It always feels like he could taint her shine.

“Ah, sure,” Benny chuckles sarcastically. “So, you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

Juniper eyes widen and his brow raises in surprise. He almost chokes on his fucking coffee, “You-, uh, you wanna ask out Y/N? My Y/N?”

Great. Could he be more possessive? No wonder all their friends and family think they'll get married someday. Now, he only hopes Benny hasn’t picked up on his mishap.

The blue-eyed firefighter shrugs his shoulders coolly, unfazed apparently by Dean’s wording, “Sure, why not? She’s a great girl. She’s funny, smart, beautiful. And man, that ass surely takes your breath away…”

“Whoa…” Dean’s look darkens so much it becomes a black hole as he stares at his friend, his jaw clenching and the grip on the wrench in his hand tightening. “Slow down, Romeo. Don’t talk about her like that,” he growls warningly and wishes he could keep his emotions better in check, but he can’t help it when it comes to Y/N.

“What? You don’t think so?”

“Wha-… Of course, I do! I mean, not the ass thing… I mean, not that she doesn’t have a great ass. I assume she does, but I don’t look, okay?”

God, he is a fucking liar, isn’t he? Of course, he’s looked at her ass and feels guilty every time he does. In his defense, Benny’s right and she has a fucking great ass, though. Not looking would be a crime to humanity. Like Monet saying, ‘Hey, don’t look at my waterlilies!’

“And that’s not even the fucking point…,” he continues his rant. “The point is… she’s the fucking best,” he defends with a huff, his shoulders tensing. He’s not sure, though, if he’s defending her honor or his own at this point. “Which is precisely why you’re not good enough for her. No offense.”

“None taken,” Benny snickers in amusement before erupting into loud laughter and hunching over as he rubs a few tears out of the corners of his eyes.

Dean frowns, his brow knitting so much he is close to a rage headache, confusion mixing with his anger, “What?! What’s so fucking funny now?”

“You! I’m just messing with you, man. I’m not gonna ask her out. Just wanted to see your reaction. Was worth it,” Benny grins broadly as if he’s just won a boxing match and folds his arms over his chest, his eyebrow arching. “Are you sure you’ve got no feelings for her, brother? Because to me, it looked like you came this close to bashing my head in with that wrench in your hand.”

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffs, furiously shaking his head while Benny just laughs more. Why does everyone always have to taunt him about Y/N? Can’t they just let it be and leave him alone?

So what if he has never liked a single boyfriend of Y/N’s? It doesn’t have anything to do with harboring some secret romantic feelings for his best friend. He only ever wants the best for her and none of her ex-douchebags have ever come close to even being remotely adequate. It is pure, innocent concern that plagues him, far away from any jealousy. He isn’t territorial like a dog defending its toy. If she ever meets a decent guy up to his standards, she can date him all she wants. He would have zero problems with that. Honestly, guys should fucking worship the ground she walks on and kiss her feet, and they don’t deserve sex until like… the hundredth date.

Those are his rules. Really, they’re simple. He’s not asking for too much, right?

So what the hell is so wrong about it? Is he not supposed to care about his friend’s wellbeing and look out for her?

Sure, the vanilla scent in her hair when she softly rests her head on his shoulder whenever they watch TV on his couch, or her adorable and intoxicating laugh whenever he cracks a joke, or her twinkling Y/E/C eyes whenever she looks up at him like he’s the fucking best could quite possibly drive him mad with want. Add to this, the thought of her getting touched by some other guy that isn’t him makes him want to commit murder. Her in some asshole’s arms? It undoubtedly makes his skin crawl, but that doesn’t mean…

Fuck… Is he actually jealous? Is he in love with her? No, right?

The more he thinks about it, the more he knows it, though: he is in deep fucking trouble.

Later…

Rocky’s is buzzing with people as Dean arrives at the bar after his shift, squeezing through the crowd on his way to the counter, hoping to find his friends there. He hates people. He doesn’t mind saving them, but he surely hates being around the masses. He prefers a quiet seat at a booth with a few trusted friends over lavish parties – or whatever is going on here tonight. How many fucking friends can Sam possibly have?

The speakers are blaring music, but Dean is sure the thoughts in his head are booming even louder. He’s put on a red and black checkered flannel, one of his nicer ones (the one Y/N likes so much), his mind reeling with thoughts and decisions since this morning. He still blames fucking Benny for most of it, although his thoughts about Y/N aren’t entirely new. He will admit that much. He’s thought about it before, countless times even (usually when Y/N would drag a new boyfriend into their lives), but always put it on the back-burner as a ‘maybe in his thirties’ kind of thing. When he got his shit together, you know?

Because God knows, he doesn’t have it together now. Right now, he holds the maturity level of a fourteen-year-old, if you haven’t noticed. But what if she can’t wait for him to outgrow his Peter Pan syndrome and finds some actual grown-up? What’s he supposed to do then? Stand idly by at their wedding?

Shit, he will have to walk her down the aisle, won’t he? Because her father died, so he’s the only possible option. Maybe he can get Sam to do it – or Bobby. But then she’ll just end up asking why he isn’t gonna do it and what the fuck is he supposed to say then, huh?

Yeah, he might have to pull his shit together a little faster and hope Y/N wouldn’t mind a few of his deficiencies. Hell, she knows all of his flaws better than he does, anyways. And she’s still by his side even when he fucks up, so what is he so scared of, really? Weirdly enough, running into burning buildings doesn’t terrify him as much as confessing his feelings to his best friend.

During lunch, he even caught himself scrolling through his photos on his phone, almost every picture either with Y/N or of Y/N, realizing he really doesn’t have a life outside of her. She is his life. So he keeps thinking about what life would look like if she were truly by his side. And he has to admit, it would be fucking fantastic.

She knows him better than anyone on this planet, better than Sam, and he knows her better than anyone else too. He knows how to make her laugh, what songs make her smile, and what movies make her cry. He knows her coffee order and her favorite pizza toppings. He knows her dorky dance moves and her nervous ticks. He just fucking knows her, inside and out. (And parts of her he doesn’t know yet he wants to know. Seriously, the curiosity is sometimes killing him.)

There would be no first-date awkwardness, no fights between them that couldn’t be solved, and no hesitations. He’s sure they’d still hang out together like best friends, but he’d also get to do all the other stuff that always feels so natural to do whenever she’s around but he always refrains from doing. Like, hold her tightly in his arms, kiss her pink lips until they were both blue in the face, and feel her smooth skin under his fingertips. He’s always wondered what those things would feel like. All in all, being with her sounds fucking awesome. A dream come true.

Fuck. He really does love her, doesn’t he?

“Hey, man, happy birthday!” Upon seeing his little brother, he hugs Sam tightly and pats him several times on the back with the proudest smile. He can hardly believe the kid is a year older again and graduating college. Y/N was right – he is getting fucking old.

“Thanks. Glad you could make it, man,” Sam smiles and slings his arm around his girlfriend Jess as she joins the men.

The two have met in college and have been inseparable since, causing Dean to wonder how his little brother has turned out more mature than him. He intends to take credit for Sam’s perfection, nonetheless. After all, he’s raised the kid since Sam’s fourteenth birthday and dropped out of college for him, so he gets to. At least Dean thinks he has a right to be proud and call Sam his greatest achievement, even though Y/N would cut in and remind him that his community college degree and graduating fire academy can also be counted as his biggest achievements.  

“Dean, you’re here!” Jess greets him cheerfully, almost to Y/N’s degree of cheeriness, before looking the firefighter up and down with an impressed smile, “Damn, you look good tonight.”

“Hey!” Sam throws in with mock upset and kisses her temple, chuckling.

“What? Look at him! Doesn’t he look good tonight?” Jess swats her boyfriend’s arm repeatedly, the baffled smile not disappearing from her lips.

Sam then squints his eyes at his brother, taking a closer look now too, and his eyebrow raises slightly, “Actually, you do. Why?”

In true little brother fashion, Sam’s found an error in Dean’s code and wants to know what caused it, so the older sibling has to scramble for an answer.

“Oh, this? I just threw something on that wasn’t in the laundry basket,” Dean shrugs the nosy pair off, wishing he had a drink in his hand for this conversation.

“Dean, don’t be modest. You got some hot date tonight?” Jess wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.

“Yeah… do you?” Sam questions suspiciously, his tone a lot more serious than his girlfriend’s.

God, Dean really does have a reputation if that’s everyone’s first assumption. It also makes him question tonight’s plan. Should he really ask out Y/N? Because now he’s direly realizing she doesn’t just know him; she knows too fucking much.

“What’s with the Spanish inquisition tonight? Can’t a guy just look good for no reason at all? ‘Sides, I’ll have you two know I would look good in a fucking trash bag. Leave me alone,” Dean huffs, a little too defensive. Now Sam will definitely be suspicious.      

“Jess, can you excuse us for a second?”

Yup. Just as Dean thought – his younger brother caught a trail.

“Sure, I’ll order us a round of shots, so we can get this party started,” Jess winks and kisses her boyfriend’s lips, leaving for the bar counter.

“What’s up?” Sam asks bluntly, not letting a single minute tick away on the clock. He has always been like this since the brothers were children and it has always annoyed the shit out of the oldest Winchester.

“Nothing,” Dean shrugs and hates he doesn’t have a beer bottle in his hand to hide his face.

“Dean…”

“Sam…”

The brothers then enter into an intense glaring match, neither wanting to cave. But Sam, shining with maturity and simultaneously rubbing it into Dean’s face, eventually breaks the silence.

“Dean, c’mon, man. What’s going on with you?”

With a deep exhale and a heavy eye roll, the firefighter finally crumples. Not because of Sam’s puppy dog look, though. He just really needs to get it off his chest and he obviously can’t tell Y/N, so his little brother truly is his only option. “Okay, fine, but you’re not allowed to tell anyone, especially Jess.”

“What, are we in kindergarten?”

“Sam!”

The youngest Winchester raises his hands in surrender at his brother’s warning growl, “Fine, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, alright… here it goes, uhm… I think I’m in love with Y/N,” he shares nervously and swallows the gigantic lump that has formed in his throat. Wow. Jesus fucking Christ, how long has that been there? His shoulders feel a million pounds lighter after his confession already.

Sam stares at his brother for a moment, not a single emotion readable on his face before he purses his lips and his brow knits, “So?”

“So?!” Dean wildly flings his arms around, almost hitting several people in his vicinity as heads and bodies duck away from him. He fucking can’t believe Sam right now. Here he is, pouring his heart out and that’s all the little shit has to say?

“Dean, everyone knows that already. That’s not news. It’s like saying the sky is blue,” Sam replies with a twitch of his shoulders and an amused chuckle.

“Well… I didn’t know!” he hisses, flustered and frustrated.

Sam lets out a laugh and grins, “Yeah, that one was pretty obvious too.”

“This isn’t funny, Sam! What am I supposed to do?” As his nerves get the best of him, he starts to pace the sticky bar floor in front of Sam, vigorously scratching the back of his neck in the process. “You think-, uh, you think she likes me… I mean, you think she likes me like that?”

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I mean, I’d ask Jess since they are friends and both girls, but you said I wasn’t allowed to tell her, so…,” Sam trails off and shrugs.

“You aren’t,” Dean emphasizes through gritted teeth and runs a hand over his face, irritated. “You know what? You have been of no help at all tonight. Zero!”

“Maybe because it’s my birthday,” Sam points out innocently.

Dean sighs, knowing himself it’s not the right time and place for this discussion, not to mention Y/N might show up any minute and the thought of seeing her makes his heart race like it never has before. “Yeah, you’re right, man. I’m sorry.”

Sam sends him a patient smile and bobs his head, “Look, Dean… you said you think you’re in love with her, but I think you really need to make sure you are before you say something to her. She’s not one of your flings. I mean, you can’t just ask her out because you’re curious.”

“That’s not-” He closes his mouth as the gears start turning in his head. He wants to say that’s not the reason why, but now he isn’t sure. Sam’s just fucking confusing him more. He’s not that big of an asshole, right?

Fuck. Is he?

Sam just blinks at him innocently. Dean can see his shoulders are itching for a shrug and the corners of his eyes are already forming another puppy dog look. “I’m just sayin’, it’s a very fragile ecosystem. We’re family. Y/N’s kinda the glue that’s all holding us together. I mean, I’ve learned to say Y/N’s name the same time I learned to say yours, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I know, thanks,” Dean mutters bitterly.

Yeah, Sam really isn’t any help at all. The oldest Winchester can’t really blame him, though. Y/N is like a big sister to Sam, who tutored him not only in school subjects but also in girls, not trusting Dean to do a proper job with the latter. Not because he didn’t have any game, but because, in Y/N’s words, he had ‘too much.’ Looking at Sam and Jess now and then at his own empty life, he understands that she was pretty much right in her assumption.

Not wanting to continue this discussion with his younger brother, Dean’s gaze lazily wanders to the TV screen above the mahogany bar, his eyes narrowing at the breaking news report and he asks the bartender kindly to turn the volume up a few notches.

“…the number of casualties is still undetermined as of now. First responders from the Lawrence City police and fire departments are still trying to get as many people out as they can. Our sources at the location are reporting that the cause of the explosion at COSMOS laboratories is still unknown. We will keep you updated as the story progresses…”

Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, his heart achingly constricting as he watches the live footage from the scene, smoke and flames bursting out of the collapsing skyscraper as a few of his colleagues scramble to get every last person out. He tries desperately to find Y/N’s face in the pixelated masses on the tiny screen, but of course, he can’t.

“COSMOS… Y/N, uh, Y/N’s there! I-, uh, I’m sorry… I gotta run,” Dean splutters, trying to collect his thoughts and keep a straight head as his heart is close to detonating. He isn’t even on call, but if there’s a chance Y/N is hurt, he has to be there and make sure she’s okay.

“Go, man,” Sam nods with worry and understanding, watching his older brother rush out of the bar faster than he’s ever seen Dean run in his entire life.

Part 02

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She’d glance up every now and then, make it look like she was paying attention, but it wasn’t until she heard the principal utter the name of the new coach that her head jerked up, eyes wide as he walked in.

Dean Winchester.

“Dean’s a past student as well, like a few of you, and we’re really glad to have him…”

Y/N never thought she’d see him again in a million years. He was practically a ghost story around town after high school finished and he left soon after. He was the star quarterback, dated the captain of the cheer squad, and never knew Y/N existed. Though his friends had certainly said a few choice words to her during those days. No matter how much she had tried to hate him, he was completely crush worthy back then, and nothing had changed as she watched him shaking hands with teachers.

Her gaze wandered over his physique, his white polo shirt tight across his chest and arms, the edge over dark khaki pants. He had clearly grown more into his looks, which is saying something considering he was already a heartthrob in school. Sitting forward, she put her head down and got back to her work, determined to not be distracted by him again. She would often find herself daydreaming in class whenever he would walk in, late of course, and she always got in trouble for staring off into space.

“Y/N.”

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and knew it was too good to be true to be able to ignore him. Lifting her head, she saw him smiling down at her before he took the seat across the table, crossing his leg as he sat back.

“It’s been a long time,” he stated, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Not long enough,” she mumbled under her breath, looking down at the essay in front of her.

He huffed a small laugh, hearing her clearly. “Still a firecracker.”

“Still?”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said, leaning forward with his forearms against the table, his hands clasped as he stared into her eyes.

Y/N felt her cheeks heating up under his gaze, but quickly stood up and gathered all her students’ papers in her hands. “That kind of observation would’ve required you noticing me in the first place, Winchester.”

Without giving him a chance to hit her with a witty remark, she made a beeline for the staff room door and made her way down the halls. She had no interest in going down memory lane, especially when she didn’t have the best high school experience.

She’d act professional, but there was just no way she was going to give Dean Winchester even a second of her time.

The next few weeks passed in the same way. Dean would try to start up a conversation whenever he saw her, and she’d give him one-word answers or none at all. She hoped he would just get the hint and give up, but she had to admire his persistence even if she found it frustrating. She wasn’t sure if he had some other agenda, that maybe he was trying to get her attention only to throw a milkshake in her face like one of the football guys did back in the day, but she had to remind herself that she wasn’t a teenager in high school anymore. She was a teacher, he was a coach, and they had grown since then.

A sunny day was welcomed by everyone, a nice change as they headed into colder weather and weren’t going to have days like this soon. Y/N sat outside at one of the lunch tables, taking her work and her food with her, hoping that the good weather would help with the dread of grading tests. If one more student got a question about the Civil War wrong, she was about to scream.

“Great weather, huh?”

Dean sat down on the bench across from her, turkey sandwich in hand as he smirked. Y/N sat back in disgust as she watched him glance over the tests laid out on the table.

“History, huh?” he muttered around a mouthful, shaking his head. “Could never stay awake in that.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I nearly had to swap seats with you because you weren’t paying attention, but I couldn’t-”

“Because of your glasses,” he finished her sentence, shocking her with the memory. “You couldn’t see anything from the back. I remember.”

“Y-You do?” she asked, her voice low as she continued to stare at him. Of all the things she was expecting him to say, that wasn’t one of them.

He gave her a firm nod. “Yeah, I mean… I felt bad that Ms. Jones singled you out.”

“Well, it was forever ago, so you’re forgiven,” she stated, sighing. “I just… can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember plenty of things about you,” he countered, leaning forward on his forearms as he looked into her eyes.

“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, sceptic about what he just revealed.

“Yeah,” he replied, easily as he shrugged his shoulders. “You didn’t give a shit about what people thought about you, and uh, well I guess I wish I was more like that. Wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in now if I was.”

She frowned, watching him dust the crumbs from his sandwich off his fingers. “You and Suzy?” She had guessed that they were still together after high school, but clearly something had gone wrong.

“Divorced, three months ago,” he stated, a huffed, bitter laugh leaving him. “Moved back home to get away from her, now I’m staying with Sam and his family until I can get back on my feet.”

“Dean,” she breathed, her voice soft as she tilted her head to make eye contact with him. “I’m really sorry.”

One side of his mouth pulled up, nodding slowly. “Gotta start fresh somehow, right? Plus, it’s got perks, Eileen’s a good cook.”

Y/N chuckled. “You and food.”

“Hey, it’s one of the two greatest pleasures in this world,” he declared, emphasizing his point by taking a bite of his sandwich.

“And what’s the other?” she asked.

He swallowed, looking at her pointedly as he smirked. “I gotta spell it out for ya? Draw a diagram?” he winked.

“Oh my god,” she groaned, closing her eyes as she quickly realized. “We’re in school, Dean.”

“It’s not like they heard,” he observed, looking around the school grounds. “It’s not like they’re not already doing it, either.”

“Okay, that’s my cue,” she announced, standing up quickly and collecting the tests.

“Hey, come on, don’t leave,” he pleaded, his hand slipping over hers to stop her. “We were good, first time you haven’t looked at me with repulsion. I call that a win.”

“These aren’t gonna grade themselves,” she stated, flicking through the tests with her thumb.

“I’ll help,” he offered, his smirk turning into a grin as he knew he had her. “Just you know… give me the answer sheet.”

Y/N bit into her lip as she thought about it for a moment. For once he hadn’t gotten on her nerves, and she found herself thinking about those days when she wanted nothing more than for him to notice her. Now he finally had, and it felt genuine. She just hoped she was right.

There was only one way to find out for sure.

“Okay,” she whispered, sitting down again and handing over half the pile to him, followed by the answer sheet. “Let me know if you can’t decipher someone’s handwriting…”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he muttered, smiling at her before he looked down at the papers.

Feeling her cheeks heat up and butterflies in her stomach from the pet name, she put her head down and got to work, trying to ignore whatever she was feeling.

Y/N’s heels clicked against the path as she walked towards the football field. She watched as Dean yelled different instructions to the team, the boys moving with each play their coach called out. She sat down on the first bench of the bleachers, crossing one leg over the other as she stared down at the post-it note Dean had left on her desk.

Come by after practice. Something I wanna show you.

- D

It had been a couple of weeks since she first let her guard down with him, and things had actually been really good. They were spending almost all their lunches together, talking and laughing as they reminisced about the past. He had apologized on behalf of anything the guys had said to her back then, but she couldn’t accept it when he wasn’t the one who had done anything wrong. She was very much crushing on him again, as much as she was trying not to, but with those green eyes and kind smile how could she stop herself?

She lifted her head as she heard Dean blew his whistle in one long breath, calling the end of practice.

“Alright, nice work! Hit the showers!”

Dean spotted Y/N standing up from the bench, wearing a maroon dress and black heels, causing a smirk to grow on his features as he walked towards her. She felt her heart beating faster as he came towards her, the school’s red jacket over the polo shirt and his own dark blue jeans. They stood in front of each other for a moment, their eyes locked as they both thought of something to say.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For what?” she laughed.

Offering his hand, she placed hers in it, feeling her heart skip a beat as his fingers closed over. They walked back to his office to pick up his car keys before they left the school building. He led her over to his car and helped her in before walking around to the driver’s side. She turned to look at him, wondering what he had up his sleeve as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the street.

They drove just to the outskirts of town, the open highway ahead of them until Dean turned down a dirt road. They slowly came to a stop at a clearing, the sun beginning to set behind the trees in the distance, bathing the sky in hues of pink and purple. He got out of the car just as she did, taking her hand once more and helping her sit on the hood as they looked up at the sky.

“So… what’s going on?” she asked, nudging her arm into him.

“You have to guess,” he replied, smirking.

“What? I don’t-” she shook her head, huffing a small chuckle as she couldn’t understand what he was trying to do. “Okay… twenty questions?”

“Sure,” he agreed, still grinning.

“Okay… is it something I can see?” she asked, glancing around them at the clearing.

“Nope,” he muttered, smugly.

“Is it something small?” she questioned.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Okay… something I can touch?”

“Yeah.”

“Something I can eat?”

“No.”

Y/N continued trying to guess what he was talking about until she finally gave up. There was just no way that she was going to get it.

“Alright, fine,” he gave in, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small, rectangular box. He glanced up at her as he opened it, watching the disbelief flash across features.

“Oh my God, how-how did you-” She took the box from him, lifting the silver necklace out, her thumb running over the small, dragonfly pendant that hung from it. “I lost this, how do you have this?” she asked, shaking her head in shock.

“You dropped it after a P.E. class and I was going to get it to you, but I guess I forgot. Then I thought I lost it too, but I found it in a box of my stuff a few days ago,” he explained, looking between the necklace and her.

He took it from her hands and opened the clasp, reaching behind her neck and locking it in place. As he drew back, his face was close to hers, their eyes peering into each other’s. She never thought that when he first joined as coach that this would be the outcome, but she couldn’t hold in how she felt anymore. Y/N leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss, a moan escaping her as he cupped her cheeks in his hands, the kiss becoming deeper.

It was exactly how she had imagined it would be, all those years ago when she would daydream in class. No. It was even better because it was actually happening.

Dean pulled away first, leaning up and pressing his lips to her forehead in a light kiss, making her smile. “Never dreamed we’d be here, huh?”

“I did, but…” She smiled, lifting her head to look into his green eyes, falling deeper for him than she ever had back then.

“I’m really glad it’s finally real.”

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So, he took on the duties of house husband while she was gone, wanting to ensure that their home was nothing short of perfect for when she would return. After cooking up some steaks and garlic butter potatoes, Dean had promised to have the place spotless so she wouldn’t have to worry, something his wife was exceptionally grateful for and showed it through a long, and sensual kiss on his mouth. His lips curled upwards at the thought, the moment only happening less than thirty minutes ago but he had already stored the fond memory in his mind.

Then there was their daughter, Adeline, who had just turned twenty. Much to his disapproval, she was currently out on a date with her boyfriend, who he severely disliked. Of course, in a dad's eyes, no man would ever be good enough for his baby, but there was something about this one that just really brought his hackles up. Still, as his wife told him, no amount of stern words and curfews were going to make his little girl see this boy for the douche he truly was, that was something that had to happen on its own.

Dean’s hands tightened subconsciously around the towel he had just picked up from where it was hanging on one of the drawers, wrapping the fabric around his fingers as he walked back to the few dishes that still needed to be dried. His girls were his world, and he would do absolutely anything to protect them. Being on his own at this time, around eight in the evening, felt a little alien, but he at least found solace in the fact he could catch up on the few series that were on his watchlist on Netflix.

He had just finished sliding the last cleaned plate into the cupboard when the front door slamming caught his attention, his brow creasing as he wiped his hands on the dishcloth he had just been using. Throwing the rag over his shoulder, Dean leaned around the doorframe to see his daughter kicking off her heels before throwing her purse on the floor to join them.

“Addy?” He spoke aloud, coming to lean on the frame as he watched how his darling girl frustratingly attempted to hang up her winter coat. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”

“Neither was I,” she sassed back, a little attitude encasing her words as she sighed deeply, slapping her hands to her sides before striding past her father to enter the kitchen.

He couldn’t help the expression that was now resting on his features, his eyebrows in his hairline as he unfolded his arms and watched how Adeline was storming towards their freezer, her sandy brown hair flying past him on her man made wind. Almost immediately, he heard the slam of the appliance’s door which caused Dean to cautiously walk further back into the kitchen, noticing how his perfect, little girl was helping herself to a large spoon of her favorite chocolate fudge ice cream.

“Everything okay?” He queried, already knowing the answer. Judging by her tone of voice, being home early and her being well on her way to eating her body weight in the dairy treat, he would surmise that she was anything but alright.

Pulling the towel from his shoulder, he sat down on one of the barstools that were situated around the tiled kitchen island. He didn’t push her to say anything more, didn’t force her to answer the question when she took her time to respond. He could tell that she was mulling over her response in her head, absentmindedly playing with the stainless steel cutlery that was in her hand as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked cautiously, diving her spoon back into the frozen dessert in front of her. “And you have to promise you won’t go all dad on me?”

“Well now that just makes me feel like I might have to go all dad on you,” Dean chuckled, leaning forward on his arms that were crossed beneath him. Yet when his eyes caught those of his daughters, he noted the unimpressed look she was giving him and his smile dropped slightly, offering a more serious response. “I promise.”

She took another moment to herself, bringing up some of the ice cream back to her mouth before she started to furiously shake her head, stabbing her utensil back into the container.

“When do men grow up?” She scoffed, her words slightly muffled by the contents that were resting on her tongue. “I mean I’ve been with Seb for four months and all he’s interested in is soccer and his friends.”

“That’s because Seb’s a dick,” Dean uttered almost immediately, causing his little girl to huff and roll her eyes.

“Dad,” Adeline whined, giving him a look that told him she was already getting fed up with his fatherly ways.

“Right, sorry,” he apologised, holding up his palm in a gesture to encourage her to continue.

She took a moment, her gaze now dropping to the chocolate fudge in front of her as she began to play it, swirling her spoon around the decorative sauce. Moments like these were rare these days. Generally, Addy would talk to her mom when it came to anything boy related, or if she needed help with an outfit, or if she needed any womanly advice. He got it, because he wouldn’t be full of the best guidance when it came to those things, although he would definitely give it his best shot if it was needed. Plus, once his daughter started getting older, she had become more independent and the need for those fatherly moments were few and far between. If anything, he felt touched that she was talking to him now and not waiting for when her mother would come home.

“I ended it with him, dad,” Addy confessed before taking another massive scoop of the frozen dessert. Dean tried to hold back his surprise and secret joy upon hearing the news, taking the opportunity to sit up a little straighter. “The relationship wasn’t going anywhere. He still has no idea what my favorite color is or my preference when it comes to music, even though we’ve been together for a while,” she continued before stabbing the remainder of her contents with her spoon. “I’m fed up with feeling so invisible. First Harry, then Lucas, now Seb.”

“Sweetheart, they didn’t and don’t deserve you,” came his immediate response, scooting his stool further over so he could place an arm around her shoulder, wanting to give her the comfort she deserved. “I can promise that to the right people, you are anything but invisible.”

All that left her lips was a sad sigh, one hand coming to push through her sandy hair, “I just want something real. I’m twenty and my longest relationship was six months.”

To that, Dean had to chuckle. His daughter had always been the hopeless romantic type, watching every type of film revolving around love there was since he could remember. And when she wasn’t lost in the movies, she would be losing herself in a fictional world, head in her books all snuggled up in her favorite wicker chair in the backyard.

“Adeline, you have plenty of time to find your person. I didn’t meet your mom until I was twenty three and even so, I know people who didn’t find their love until later,” he explained, a warm and sincere smile on his lips as he pulled his not so little girl into his side, gently kissing the side of her head. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“But how do you know when it’s real?” She replied, looking back up at her dad for answers before going back to her spoon, bringing up a small scoop of chocolate to her mouth. “I’m scared that I'll find ‘the one’ but I'll let them slip through my fingers because I’m aiming too high.”

Dean reflected on that, taking a moment to mull over her words. He knew of these concerns, his wife had confided in him a few times that she thought Addy was looking for that make believe type of love and due to this, she’s missing out on just enjoying herself. But then again, he was the one to remind her that when you find that right person, the one you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with, that love becomes reality as there is nothing you wouldn’t do for your soulmate. It made him smile when he thought back to that conversation, the married couple spending the late hours of the night in bed reminiscing over their favorite memories together. He knew she was it the very first day he saw her.

Placing another kiss on Adeline's temple, he removed his arm from around her shoulders before standing from his chair to go and reach for the marshmallows plus extra chocolate chips that were in the cupboard. If they were going to have this conversation, then they would do it on a damn sugar high and nothing would change his mind. This was going to be a daddy and daughter moment to remember.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how I met your mom?” He asked softly as he placed the additional confectionary on the counter, sliding the ice cream container towards him as he emptied half the packet of pink and whites.

“I know mom said that you met at your work but that’s about it,” she informed, biting back a chuckle but holding onto her shocked but pleased expression at her fathers antics.

Pursing his lips, Dean grabbed another spoon from the cutlery drawer before settling himself back down next to her. Scooping a large helping of the dairy treat, he started at the very beginning of his story. “Well I was working at Uncle Bobby’s garage and it was late May. We had a few repairs booked in and I was busy keeping my head down when the phone rang. I went to get it but he got there first. Turns out it was this lady who had broken down on I-70.”

“Mom?”

Dean nodded as he shoved the chocolate fudge mountain into his mouth, cleaning the utensil in one swift motion before holding it up and waggling it between his fingers in agreement. “Bingo. So of course Bobby says someone will be out to help her within the hour. But, you know how he says he’s not deaf but he actually is a little bit?” He said with a fondness in his voice, “Yeah, he wrote down the wrong interstate.”

“Oh no!” Adeline gasped, one hand coming to touch her mouth as her eyes widened slightly.

“So of course, our recovery vehicle was sent out and when we couldn’t find her, we were unable to contact her back either. We were having this horrendous storm at the time and lightning had actually hit our telephone pole which resulted in our lines going dead,” he continued to explain, enjoying telling the story of how he met the most incredible woman, bar his daughter, in his life.

“So, what happened?” She pressed, reaching for the extra chocolate chips with hesitation. However, upon receiving a very approving look from her dad, she poured them in, not stopping till the packet was empty. With her own spoon, she didn’t waste a second on digging in, much to the amusement of the man next to her.

“Well, your mother couldn’t call us, we couldn’t get through to her and so she ended up walking the distance from her car to our garage, and man, she was not happy,” he grimaced, remembering just how angry she was as he scooped himself another helping, enjoying the flavors that danced on his tongue.

“In the storm?!” Adeline gasped through ice cream muffled words, her hand now completely covering her mouth as she watched her father nod in agreement. “Oh my god!”

“Oh, it gets worse,” he chuckled and his grin only grew when he saw how invested his daughter was in their story. Picking at one of the marshmallows that was sitting on top of his man made sugar hill, he continued. “She came in, all fierce and soaked through to the bone from this torrential rain. Who was the first person she saw?” At this, Dean pointed to himself causing a loud snort to sound from his company. “She marched up to me, leaving this trail of water behind her and just grabbed the board I was on, pulling me out from under this Chevy.”

“Oh dad, how are you still alive?” She replied, shocked and a little amused at how the story was progressing.

“Oh I was terrified. I thought she was gonna kill me,” he admitted, his smile causing an ache in his cheeks as he recalled one of his favorite memories, “but when I calmed her down and got her talking, there was this connection, this instant pull. That’s when I knew there was something different about this woman. So, when it’s real, you’ll know. You just…you feel it deep down and that feeling never goes away,” he explained fondly, his once amused grin turning into one that was now a lot more sincere.

If he could go back and do it all over again with her, he would. If there was a time machine where he would be able to enter and go back to relive that day whenever he wanted, that would be the dream. He watched how Adeline mused over his words, letting his story sink in as she slowly finished off the treat in her hand. He could tell that her mood had changed, the attitude and the irritation that had been consuming her when she returned had dissipated, replaced with the hope that a perfect romance was still out there for her, somewhere.

“What happened next?” She questioned, excitedly, looking over to him with an enthusiasm that was fuelling the fire behind her eyes.

“With me and your mom?” Dean replied, licking his lips to catch whatever remainder of chocolate was stuck to his few day old stubble.

“Yeah, I’d like to know,” Addy grinned, leaning on the counter with one hand, picking at the chocolate fudge with the other, as she waited for her father to continue. Who was he to ever say no to his little girl?

“Well…”

May 29th, 2002

The sound of the storm outside was deafening, the heavy rainfall that was thudding along the roof drowning out the sound of the radio, the loud rumbles of thunder reverberating through Singer’s and Son’s garage as the mechanics worked hard to meet their deadlines in Kansas City. There was no exception for Dean Winchester, the manager of the business, who was currently laying on his back on a creeper board underneath a Chevrolet Cavalier. He was lost in his work, his forearms covered in oil as he tried his hardest to undo a bolt that was being incredibly stubborn. His teeth were bit into his bottom lip as he strained to loosen it, his muscles tightening against the grey coloured shirt he was wearing.

With the noise of the weather so loud, and his concentration unbreaking on his work, the mechanic was completely oblivious to the sound of heels clicking fast against the stained concrete. He didn’t notice the shadow that crept underneath the Chevy, or that it was in fact blocking what light he had until he felt himself literally being pulled away from his work. He was glad he had fast reflexes because he was able to dodge the lip of the car by turning his head to the side quickly, narrowly missing smacking his skull on the metal. He was steeling himself for the harsh words that were about to bleed from his lips. How fucking dare they?

“What kind of business is this?!” A woman scolded as she stood above him, Dean squinting a few times to bring her into view as her frame was silhouetted by the light above her.

“Woah lady,” he started, his voice low and pissy as he quickly pushed himself to his feet, facing the assailant who had yanked him from his work, “what the hell?”

“What the hell?!” She repeated, rolling her lips tightly together as she took a deep breath, her hands firmly fisted in front of her as if she was trying to reel in her frustration. “I have been standing at the side of the road, on the interstate, for the past three hours waiting for you guys. I have tried calling but the phone is constantly engaged!” She fumed, her voice getting louder with each of her words and Dean’s eyebrows could only slowly raise. “This place is full of scam artists, you lot think you can get away with making a fool out of me? Well the joke is on you.”

“You could have seriously hurt me!” The mechanic fired back, disbelief still fueling his words as he watched the drenched woman in front of him take a few steps back, digging about her coat pocket.

That was the moment when he truly noticed her. She was absolutely soaking wet; makeup had run down her cheeks, hair replicating rat tails due to the heavy downpour and her once red wrap-around coat was now maroon thanks to all the rainwater it was holding. Her body was shivering as she finally pulled out her cell, her lips trembling as she desperately tried to type in a number.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, his voice slightly raised as he stepped closer to her but she just took a step away from him, one forefinger held up in front of his face as she put her phone to her ear.

“Calling the local newspaper to tell them that this so-called garage likes to make a mockery of women!” She informed him strongly, turning away to walk away from him as she hit the green dial button. “You think it’s funny leaving a customer stranded in this weather? Making promises you can’t keep? Keeping your number busy so no-one could get through?” She ranted, shaking her head firmly from side to side before she started to huff, and looked down at the digital screen on her device. “Why do I have no service here?”

“The lines are dead, lightning bolt hit a pole a couple of blocks over,” he disclosed, gesturing outside of the open garage doors before crossing his arms across his broad chest. “Probably affecting cell signals too.”

“Oh,” she spoke aloud, trying to hold her stern tone but it wavered towards the end. It caused Dean to smirk, knowing that this woman who had come in all rampage and accusatory was now seeing some logic.

He took a step towards her, dragging in his bottom lip with his tongue, “And if we were scam artists, ma’am, we would have taken your money over the phone which we didn’t do. We only collect upon a completed job.”

“Well, I--” she started, before looking away from the mechanic, her fingers coming to rest above her eyebrow.

He watched on as she started to swallow hopelessly against the lump in her throat, one he knew was there due to the tears that were falling under the attempted shield of her hand. A wave of guilt washed over him for being harsh, and he let his body sag a little as his arms fell to his sides. A crying woman was not what he imagined he would be facing today and as he heard her sniffle, he couldn’t allow her to stand there upset for much longer.

“Would you like a hot drink? And maybe a towel?” He offered gently, stepping closer to her in an attempt to get her attention. She quickly rubbed at her forehead, as if she was trying to will away her defenselessness and draw back her strength. After taking a breath in circumspect, she turned back to face him.

“I think that’s the least you guys owe me,” she snarked, sniffing as she tried to discreetly wipe under her eyes before turning around to face the mechanic once more. Her stance had now changed, her shoulders pushed back as if she was preparing herself for another standoff. “Coffee, if you have it.”

Dean had to bite his tongue to stop his reply, not wanting to add fuel to this already burning fire. So much for the worry and guilt he was feeling moments ago. With a small nod, he walked away and headed towards the back of the garage. They kept some mugs and other supplies there to save them going into the kitchen when working on a car. As he got closer, he looked skyward to thank whoever was looking down on him when he noticed that a fresh pot had been brewed. He didn’t know how much more of this woman’s attitude he could take.

Looking over his shoulder, he watched how she paced back and forth, her sharp and defensive demeanor having changed while he wasn’t looking. She had no idea that he was looking over at her and he had to question whether she really was that feisty or it was all just a hardened shell that someone, anyone, has to pierce. Contemplating on that thought, he pushed his brows together as he poured the hot caffeinated liquid into a clean cup, and sucked in a breath before he turned to go back towards her. On his way, he collected a freshly folded towel from a locker they keep in a corner for those inevitable moments, like this one, when one of their members of staff would be caught in a storm or any other uncontrollable events that would require a fluffy assist.

The clanging of the metal door closing, caused his company to look back at him with hardened eyes, her defenses slowly rising once more as he neared. But when he held out the mug for her to take, and she wrapped her hands around the warmth, it was like the ice around her spirit melted away. She smiled in gratitude, bridging the beverage to her lips and hummed in content when the taste hit her tongue. In that moment, he made a gentlemanly move and wrapped the soft cotton around her shoulders, her fingers coming to pinch it together at her chest to blanket herself.

“What’s your name?” Dean inquired gently, but was met with a confused and slightly concerned expression. He nodded his head and gestured his thumb behind him. “To check the books for your call.”

“Y/N,” she introduced, soft and delicate. For the first time since they had met, the mechanic felt his heart thud against his chest.  “Y/N Y/L/N. I broke down east on I-70, driving a 1969 Ford Mustang.”

Upon hearing that, he had to shake himself out of his thoughts and try to control the way her words made his eyebrows shoot to his hairline and his head recoil a little in shock. He was not expecting to learn that she was driving a classic car, or that she had left it completely unmanned on the interstate.

“And you left it on the--” he started before pursing his lips, pausing a beat before shouting for coworker. “Benny!”

He pulled his hands to his hips as he stared at the floor, waiting for his southern friend to join them. When he heard his footsteps getting closer, he looked up and to the side, catching the blue eyes of the cajun mechanic, who was glancing between the soaked woman wrapped in a company towel and Dean.

“Boss?” He asked, inquisitively, before nodding his head towards Y/N. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

“East on highway 70. Drop what you’re working on and go fetch it with Kevin in recovery,” Dean gently ordered, nodding towards the apprentice in the back before holding his hand out to their damsel in distress. “Do you have the keys?”

She nodded slowly, sliding one shaking hand into her pocket before pulling out what he had requested, the metal jingling as she hesitantly held them out to him. “Please be careful! She means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” he replied gently, knowing exactly how she was feeling in the moment. If anyone was to touch his Baby, or if he had to leave her on a busy interstate, then he would be just as worried.

Turning, he handed them to Benny accompanied with a look that told him that his colleague should do the job quickly and to the best of his ability. With a curt nod, the cajun shouted for Kevin before pointing to the recovery truck, watching as they dropped everything to help Y/N. The engine echoed in the space, only briefly drowning out the sound of the storm before it pulled out into the onslaught of rain. There was a minute of silence that fell between the pair, Dean’s mind already working overtime as he tried to save this situation.

Eventually, he turned back to face her, his palms now moving from his hips, forefinger and thumb pinching at his nose before he allowed his arms to rest at his sides. He couldn’t leave her standing out here shivering. The garage wasn’t the best for keeping the heat in, especially when the doors were opening and closing all the time, the shutters having remained ajar due to fumes and quick access. That’s when he made his decision, his green eyes roaming to the office before landing back on her.

“Follow me,” he spoke slowly, walking in the direction of the small windowed box in the corner, only stopping when he noticed Y/N wasn’t behind him. Turning, to look for her, he noticed how she had plucked up an eyebrow in curiosity, the trust still not full there. “We have a heater in the office and I also know that my boss keeps a stash of the good stuff to make that coffee Irish, if you so wish.”

There was a slight pause, and he could tell that she was mulling over her options. However, it didn’t take long for her to nod her head, her feet carrying her towards him, “Okay then.”

With a half smile, the mechanic led the way and opened the door for her, motioning for their customer to enter before he did. Once she was inside, he quickly shut the door behind them and pulled out Bobby’s luxury armchair in a gesture for her to take a seat. She did, willingly and without much hesitance as Dean then grabbed the portable electric heater, and plugged it in next to her. The silence that was between them wasn’t awkward, and he found it strange how that could be. Moments ago, she was ready to rip his head off and leave no remains behind but now, under the dim glow of the lights, her head downward as she shivered, she seemed vulnerable and scared.

Searching the filing cabinets for the whiskey Dean knew his boss kept in there, he let out a small ‘aha’ when his fingers wrapped around the glass. Closing the drawer, he wiggled the bottled substance towards Y/N which caused her to look up, a small smile pulling at her pale lips. She nodded when he offered the alcohol, holding her coffee mug out for him to add the honeyed liquor. If the coffee doesn’t warm her up, that definitely will.

“I’m Dean by the way, Dean Winchester,” he introduced himself, screwing the cap back on the bottle before leaning on the edge of the desk. She nodded, her lips pulling further upward upon hearing his name.

“You own this place?” Y/N questioned, looking around as she took another sip of her warming beverage.

“No, but I do manage the place when Bobby isn’t around,” he answered as he started looking around the space, his eyes scanning the surface he was leaning on when he spotted his Uncle’s scribbled handwriting on the a4 desk writing pad. “And it appears he wrote down the highway number wrong for your call. It says here you were on 50. I swear that man needs his damn ears checkin’.”

“My aunt is similar,” she chuckled, the delightful tone surprising, causing him to look away from the note and back at her. “Couldn’t hear a bunch of cats wailing in her backyard and to this day is still convinced me and my mom were making it up.”

Together, they laughed. Dean found her story heartwarming, the smile that she was now wearing genuine and it appeared to light up her entire face. Her make-up smeared eyes were shining, the colour slowly creeping back into her lips and as she caught his gaze, the sound of both of their joy dying down, she brushed her knuckles against her cheeks. He had to grin widely at that, and he was wondering if she was attempting to feel for any heat that might have flushed to her cheeks.

“It’s nice to see you smile,” he complimented, the words leaving him before he had a chance to think. With a widened stare, he cleared his throat while straightening his stance, his closed fist coming to his mouth. “After what’s happened that is. You’re not that scary when you’re warm and full of hot coffee,”

“If you think that was scary, then god help you when I’m truly mad,” she quipped, her shoulders shrugging once as she took another sip of her coffee. “Trust me, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,”

“As long as you don’t turn green and morph into a giant dude that smashes up everything, we’ll be okay,” he remarked, his fingers combing through his hair.

“Incredible hulk?” She asked, her eyebrows raised as her smile returned. “Got to hand it to you, that remark was quick.”

“I like to think I’m fast where it counts,” he flirted, before watching how she pursed her lips. It was then he realised exactly what had left his mouth, “in, you know, work areas and being efficient and such.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, unconvinced but they each allowed the moment to come to its natural end, both of them losing themselves in small bashful chuckles.

However, Dean couldn’t help but think of how different Y/N was, now she was warming up and  drying off. She intrigued him. Even though she was in complete disarray, thanks to his Uncle’s mistakes, she wasn’t worried about fixing her looks or ensuring that she had her clothes dry cleaned. He had been in the company of those women, and he had started to wonder if they were the type that he could only attract or if there were any other types out there that would be remotely interested in what he had to offer.

Even though she was sitting there, her hair still a mess, her mascara stained cheeks and what he could have sworn was a random leaf stuck to the side of her calf; she looked beautiful to him. It was scary, this overwhelming feeling of attraction when he had no idea who she truly was. All he had was a name, and the story of her Mustang being broken down on the interstate.

Through his thinking, his eyes had wandered onto the office clock and he noticed that it was encroaching on 4pm. “You got anywhere you need to be this evening?”

His question caused her to look back up from her now empty coffee mug, her thumbs playing with the rim of the porcelain as she pondered. She bit down on the edge of her lip, her head leaning to one side as she sucked in a deep breath. “Honestly? I’ve just moved here. Was meant to be heading to my new house before my girl gave up on me.”

“Well if you like, I could drive you. Call it company compensation,” he immediately offered, one hand sliding into the pockets of the overalls that only covered his lower half. “Plus, getting a cab in this weather will be impossible.”

“And what about my baby? By that I mean my Mustang?” Was her immediate response, causing him to lick his lips to stop him from smiling so wide.

“We will call you with updates, I will personally ensure it,” he promised, gesturing towards his chest before turning back to the pad on the desk, “Just, let me check if this is your correct number before you leave.”

“I don’t want to put anyone out,” she breathed, one hand coming to run through her wet hair as she contemplated his offer. “You’re needed here right?”

“Eh, Bobby owes me some time.” He shrugged, picking up the note with her number on to shower her. When she nodded that it was correct, he clicked his tongue against his teeth as he tried to understand the whirlwind of excitement in his stomach. “Then that settles it. Come on, let me help make moving day suck less for you.”

“That’s really kind of you, Dean,” she stated softly, huddling closer to the heater for some more warmth.

“Just doing what’s right,” he replied, a kind expression resting on his features as he placed both hands into his pockets. “How about I show you my baby and take you to your new home? Get you in some fresh clothes?”

“You’re Baby?” She enquired, her gaze full of curiosity and wonder.

“1967 Black Chevrolet Impala, Y/N.  My pride and joy,” he beamed, picking up a photo frame from his Uncle’s desk before turning it in his hands and showing it to his company. It was a picture of him, his dad, his brother and Bobby all sitting on the hood and she could only share his excited look when she gazed over the picture in front of her.

“As great as that would be, all of my clothes are in my trunk,” she sighed, leaning forward to place her mug on the desk as she tried to not look too disheartened.

“Ah,” Dean sounded. “Well unless you want to get changed into some greasy overalls, I’m out of ideas on that one,” he joked, wanting to keep her spirits high.

“I’m good,” Y/N laughed, folding her arms across her chest. “Besides, it’s mainly just my coat, the lower half of my legs, and my hair that’s wet. Just everywhere the coat doesn’t touch.”

“Then in that case, how about some dinner, on me?” He proposed, the offer falling from his lips as smooth as the whiskey that Bobby kept in his filing cabinet. When she gave him a pensive look, he held up his hands. “I swear it’s all innocent apart from it being an apology from myself for my Uncle’s mistake and for ruining your first day here in Kansas City.”

“That depends, what do you have in mind?” She enquired, and Dean knew that curiosity was getting the better of her.

“I know this great little Italian that a friend of mine owns,” he began to explain, the expression on his face one of wonder when he thought about their food. “Cooks some killer spaghetti.”

“That sounds amazing actually,” she agreed, and looked back up at him, her smile now reaching her mesmerising eyes. He was caught off guard for a moment, his words lost on him until her eyebrow started to twitch with confusion. It was that movement that broke his trance.

“Right.” He cleared his throat before he walked towards the closed door of the office, his palm resting on the handle. “Give me a minute to get out of these overalls, you stay cuddled next to that heater and I’ll be right back.”

With a nod from Y/N, he took a deep breath and left the room, ensuring to shut the barrier behind him to keep the heat in. Stepping away and towards his locker, the mechanic couldn’t help this overwhelming feeling of familiarity and excitement that bubbled from within him. When she had first stepped into the garage, he was sure there was going to be some trouble and he would be heading home, pissed off and fed up with people entirely. Yet, instead, he was being completely and utterly hypnotised by the woman who had walked a fair distance to their garage in the pouring down rain. She was different, unique, unlike any other person that he had met before and there was something about all of it that was simply enchanting.

The more they talked, the more he listened. He felt as though his heart was gravitating towards her. There was a connection, an instant pull that was bewildering. He had never felt like this before, not towards any other women he’s dated or, let alone, a stranger. What was it that was making him feel like this? What was it that was drawing him into her like a moth to a flame? Dean had never shied away from his curiosity, and this was an itch that was just begging to be scratched.

Just who was Y/N Y/L/N? And why was she already, all the green eyed mechanic could think about.

——————————————– Chapter Two  ——————————————– A/N: I really hoped the first chapter of my new series! Please let me know your thoughts, they’re gratefully appreciated <3 Also, up to Chapter Five of this series is on patreon right now! Thanks so, so much for reading <3 Tag list is open! If you want to be tagged, then let me know HERE :)

Dean Freaking Winchester.

The man. The myth. The legend.

You couldn't stand him.

You had known the Winchesters for the better part of five years, having crossed paths time and again for various hunts. The truth was you liked hunting alongside the Winchesters. There was never a dull moment and working with the best made you feel like one of the best.

Sam was always a pleasure. You loved fighting beside the massive giant and you loved chilling with a beer after a job well done. Sam was easy to talk to and you had a lot in common. There were times you wished there was some sort of romantic spark between the two of you, but life doesn't always work out that way. You weren't ashamed to admit he was hot either, but again, it just wasn't like that with the two of you. You were grateful for the solid friendship nonetheless.

Dean, however, was another story entirely. Just the sound of his name had you rolling your eyes. Never has anyone ever made you as infuriated as that green-eyed menace. When it came to hunting, Dean was competitive and challenging, always goading you and pushing you to your limits. And off the hunt? Well, that was a whole other matter in itself. The way he'd flirt with anything in a skirt, taking girl after girl back to his motel room, rambling on and on about his skills in the bedroom.

He was the single most irritating person you'd ever met in your life.

So when his name popped up on your caller ID, you were tempted to just ignore it. But you knew Dean wouldn't call unless it was important.

"Winchester," you answered curtly, letting him know off the bat you weren't having any of his usual whatever.

"Hiya, Sweetheart," he crooned and you could hear that damn smirk in his tone. "Miss me?"

"With every shot so far," you sighed into the line, ignoring his annoying chuckle.

"Was hoping you could help me out on a case?"

"Sam's usually the one who calls."

"Yeah, well, Sam's tied up on a different case at the moment and I could use the backup." You couldn't fight the smirk on your face at his words. Dean knew you were a good hunter and you felt a bit of pride at the fact that he trusted you to be his backup. "So, whaddya say? It's a fancy affair."

You thought about it for a second. If Dean said it was fancy, that meant dressing up, and it had been quite a while since you'd had the chance to dress up for anything more than a drink at the bar. If nothing else, you'd get a little glitz and glamour in your evening while working at the same time.

"Send me the address and details," you decided as you packed up your things. You'd need to stop along the way and do a little shopping. "I'll meet you there."

Ending the call you took a deep breath, glancing around the motel room to make sure all your things were packed. Making your way to your car, you threw your bag in the backseat before climbing behind the wheel.

If you just threw yourself into the job, focused on the case at hand, you'd get through it and possibly have a little fun while you're at it. You just hoped Dean wasn't his usual Dean self, especially without Sam there as a buffer.

You thought you were clever. You knew the outfit you bought looked fantastic and you expected to knock Dean back a bit.

You did not expect how good that man wore a suit.

Or how the sight of him in a tuxedo knocked the breath from you and had you staggering on your feet for a second.

When you walked out of the bathroom, dressed for the evening, Dean's eyes bulged out of his head. He knew when he called you that he would see you dressed up - something he'd never witnessed before - but even his wildest imaginings couldn't have produced the stunning image that stood before him.

You had always just been a friend, a fellow hunter, one of the team. Dean and Sam trusted you and knew you were skilled, having been in the life for many years.

The two of you seemed to hit it off right away, or so he thought. At the end of the first case, when celebratory drinks were being had, Dean thought for sure he knew where the night was leading. But then you cooled off at some point during the night, all but ignoring him until you dismissed yourself back to the motel.

Dean had wondered what he'd done wrong. He'd thought over everything again and again and couldn't think of any reason other than you just didn't really want him that way. So he found himself a distraction from it all that night.

From then on, any time you saw each other, you were angry and argumentative. But you were still able to get the job done, better than damn near anyone, and looked incredible while doing so. His feelings from that first night never left or faded. If anything they grew over the years he had known you. But he kept it well hidden, not wanting to embarrass himself when you clearly weren't interested.

The past few times they'd run into you though had Dean feeling differently. He wasn't sure if it was the changes in his life or getting older or something else. But he began to feel like maybe he should say something about feeling like they could be more than just friends.

It was a fleeting thought initially, but it kept popping into his mind, taunting and teasing him with relentless 'what ifs'. So when a case came up and involved some undercover work, he jumped at the chance to see you and work with you again, hoping maybe with just the two of you, he could see if you were feeling that change too.

Though, seeing you eyeing him up much the same as he had to you brought him back to his senses, a knowing smirk on his face. He couldn't help the amused chuckle that passed his lips. You rolled your eyes and sat on the end of the bed, putting on your strapped heels.

"You look absolutely stunning in that dress."

He bit his lip as you stood, slowly sauntering over to him. His eyes trailed over your body, growing darker with every step you took. As you stood before him, tilting your head a little to meet his eyes, he bit his lip.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Winchester."

The tension hung between you for a moment before you shook yourself free. With a small smirk, you walked around him, retrieving your clutch from the table.

"Is that a piece of ice chipping off, Sweetheart?"

You didn't have to see his face to know he stood behind you with that damn infuriating smirk of his. As you turned around, clutch in hand, Dean was standing much closer than you expected.

"You ready for the best night of your life?" Dean teased.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "I bet you say that to all the girls." As you made your way to the door, you missed the slip in his smile and the flash of hurt in his eyes.

As his hand landed on your lower back, guiding you out of the motel room and to the Impala, you couldn't help the smile on your face. He had never been this sweet and attentive in all the time you'd known him. It almost felt like an actual date, the thought making your stomach do summersaults.

Then your mind reminded you that he really did do these things for all the women, all the time. It was just another case, just pretend.

From the moment you arrived at the extremely lavish mansion for the Gala, Dean's hands never left you. Whether on your lower back, or holding your hand, or hooked through your arm, he was always touching you, always right there.

It was comforting and maddening in equal measure.

He was so charming, so insistent on having a good time while they hunted. It was infectious and you found yourself sipping champagne and giggling with the older Winchester as yours eyes scanned the crowd.

You were looking for a Shifter. He would find and kill rich people, hiding the bodies long enough to take on their form and rob them of their riches. Dean had spotted him first, dressed in a tuxedo and the face of his last victim, chatting and charming an elderly widow whom they believed to be his next victim. She was one of the more wealthy patrons present.

You were caught of guard by Dean's sudden extended hand and half-smirk, "Dance with me?"

You glanced a this hand, then back to his eyes, "What? Why?"

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head before grabbing you hand and gently tugging you onto the dance floor.

"Surveillance," he shrugged as he placed your hands on his shoulders before gently holding you waist. "We can keep a closer eye on them and maybe listen in."

You couldn't argue his rationale, but the fact that he was clearly more interested in looking at you then them made you suspicious.

It took you a moment to recognize the song that was playing, I've Got You Under My Skin. You smiled at just how applicable it seemed to you. You definitely had Dean under your skin. You smiled to yourself at the thought.

"See?" Dean smiled down at you. "Not so bad, huh?"

"Didn't know you could dance."

"S'just rockin' side to side," he shrugged, making you giggle and shake your head.

He held your gaze as you swayed to the music. Your heart felt like it was swelling into your throat. His eyes, so intense and beautiful, felt like they were burning into you. You glanced at his mouth as his tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip before biting it. The action made your eyes flash back to his.

Were you about to kiss Dean Winchester?

When he broke eye contact you frowned. Had you misread the situation?

"They're gone," Dean announced, his eyes frantically searching the room. You frowned, scanning the room for yourself and finding the couple nowhere. "Damnit," Dean seethed.

Taking you by the hand, he led you both through the crowd in search of the Shifter. You were angry at yourself for getting distracted, for letting yourself entain thoughts of Dean instead of focusing on the case. You knew better, and you knew thinking of being with him in any sort of way was nothing more than a fantasy.

You were supposed to hate each other.

Making your way out of the back of the mansion, you and Dean looked around the dark night, trying to find any sign of them.

"Dean, there!" You said, pointing straight ahead, two figures barely visible in the distance. "They're headed towards the gardens."

You and Dean took off, readying your guns as you caught up to the sound of their voices. Rounding a corner, hidden behind the shrubbery of the gardens, the Shifter stood with the woman.

"Let her go," Dean demanded, his gun trained on the Shifter. You followed suit, standing a few feet beside Dean, your own gun aimed.

"Hunters," the Shifter growled, his grip on the moan tightening as he held her by the arm beside him.

Dean fired off a shot, hitting the man in the arm and forcing him to release the woman. You rushed towards her while the Shifter was distracted.

"Go," you urged, ushering her towards the path out of the gardens. It didn't take much urging and she was running off as quick as she could back towards the house.

AS you turned around, Dean fired again, the Shifter barely dodging it. Cursing to yourself, you took aim, but the Shifter produced a gun, already aimed at you.

Looking at Dean he growled, knowing there was no way out of this for him. "You cost me my woman, I'll cost you yours."

Without looking away from Dean, the shifter fired and you froze. It was as if time slowed down. You knew the bullet would hit you and you didn't have enough time to react. You saw a blur fly in front of you as another gunshot went off, making you jump and come back to your senses.

It was as if everything sped up once more.

The Shifter lay on the ground, a sizzling bullet hole in his head. You looked down at yourself, your hands frantically wandering your body, searching for the bullet wound. But you couldn't find or feel any wound.

A groan at your feet drew your attention and you saw Dean struggling to sit up as he cradled his arm, a bullet wound in his shoulder steadily bleeding.

"You're bleeding," you whispered, still in shock as you helped Dean to his feet.

"No kidding," Dean grumbled. "What the Hell happened?"

"I-I don't know," you admitted, not understanding it yourself. "I just…froze."

Dean huffed, still cradling his arm as he stomped his way out of the garden, "We need to leave before someone shows up and starts asking questions."

You stood there for a moment, looking over the dead shifter and the small pool of blood from Dean. The Shifter got the jump on you and you should have died, should have been hit by that bullet. But Dean jumped in front of you and took it instead, while he killed the Shifter.

You quickly caught up with Dean, the two of you making your way to the Impala and far away from the scene.

Dean was silently fuming the whole ride back to the motel. You knew he was pissed that you fucked up. He was pissed at being shot. Dean came out of nowhere, diving in front of you like some action hero, taking the bullet in his shoulder as he fired a shot, killing the intended target. You just stood there, frozen in shock knowing that bullet was meant for you and you couldn't do anything about it.

You should have been thankful, and you were. But the overwhelming guilt you felt over fucking up and, more importantly, almost possibly losing Dean had twisted your insides so much.

Dean grunted as you forced him down into the chair in the small motel room with a huff. Digging the first aid kit out of your duffel you came back to the small kitchenette table.

"You shouldn't have done that," you said through gritted teeth, helping Dean remove his ruined jacket and shirt.

He hissed as the material came away from the bleeding wound and you sucked in a breath at the sight of his bare torso. Did he have to be so damn distracting?

"Are you serious?" Dean glared at you as you refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing on patching him up. "I saved your ass back there!"

"You didn't have to take the bullet like that, Dean!" You huffed in anger, Dean growling as you were a little too rough, your emotions getting the better of you.

You knew he was right. Truth was, you were scared. Scared that you almost died. Scared that you could have lost Dean without ever having figured out what this weird thing between you was.

"I'm just supposed to let you die?" he growled, grabbing your wrist when you finished and forcing you to look at him.

Tears began to gather in your eyes and you weren't sure how much longer you could hold them back.

"You could've died too," you responded in a weak whisper, your heart feeling like it might burst as you realized just how much he meant to you. "I could've lost you."

The tears did fall then, a hiccupped sob catching in your throat. Dean's expression changed from anger to surprise. The air between you seemed charged, crackling with the intensity of whatever this thing between you two had always been.

Tugging at your wrist, he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you straddling his thighs. You buried your face in his shoulder as you let the tears fall. Dean cradled you in his arms, holding you close and soothing you as you let it all out.

Once you were calm enough you pulled back to look at him through teary eyes.

"I'm okay," Dean insisted, his voice tender. "I'm right here, I'm okay."

You nodded, feeling like you might start crying again. Instead, you cupped his face, pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss, hoping he could feel this crazy flurry of confusing emotions coursing through you. As he eagerly kissed you back, you knew he felt something too.

His hands were frenzied as you allowed yourself to drown in his kisses, the taste of his tongue. In no time at all, he had you stripped of your dress and bra, leaving you in your lacy panties and heels as you ground down against him.

Dean hissed, lifting you enough to hurriedly shove his slacks and boxers down to his knees, gathering you back tightly into his arms. You moaned as your lace-covered folds met his hot and hard length. Pressed between you, the tip grazed your belly. It both scared and thrilled you to take him.

Holding his gaze, you lifted your hips and pulled your panties aside. Catching the tip on your entrance, you slowly lowered yourself on his cock. Dean's hands squeezed your hips, his eyes watching as your pussy slowly swallowed up his length.

By the time your ass was flush with his thighs, you were trembling. Dean was huge, his girth stretching you more than you'd ever felt before. He was so long and hard, the head of his cock pressed firmly against your cervix.

You shifted your hips experimentally, the mix of pain and pleasure making you gasp. Dean smirked, his hands helping to lift you on and off his cock at a slow pace. Before long you were riding his cock in earnest, your face buried in his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Dean met your every thrust, relishing in the desperate sounds of your moans and gasps, letting you use him how you needed. You felt amazing wrapped around him. You lifted your feet to rest on the side supports of the chair, your heels hooking onto the rails. Using the leverage, you rode Dean harder, your head was thrown back as you lost yourself to the bliss.

Dean leaned forward, your bouncing breasts too much for him to ignore. He wrapped his mouth around one, his hand teasing and pulling at the other, driving you closer and closer to your climax.

Without warning, you came hard, screaming out Dean's name as he rode you through your high. As you were coming down, Dean growled, his grip on you tight as he kicked off his pants and carried you over to the bed.

He laid you down, removing your panties but leaving your heels on as he climbed between your legs. Kissing you deeply he slid his cock back inside you, pressing as deep as he could go.

You moaned and Dean set a harsh pace, his face buried in your neck as he fucked you deep. You wrapped your legs around him, your heels digging into his lower back. He hissed, one hand finding the headboard for leverage, the other holding your hip as he gave all he had, grunting and growling with each thrust. You weren't sure if you were gonna cum or break or both.

Once again, he had you cumming harder than you'd ever felt before, stars swimming behind your eyes. Dean's moans and whines in your ear as he came, the twitching of his cock, the heat of his seed, were delicious and added to your euphoria.

Once calmed, Dean removed himself, plopping down onto the bed beside you with a heavy groan. As your mind cleared, the reality of what had just happened settled into your conscious. You had just had sex, with Dean Winchester. A man you were supposed to hate, who hated you. Right?

Turning your head you looked at Dean, his arm slung over his eyes as he caught his breath, a small smile on his parted lips. You sat up a little to admire him more when your eyes caught sight of the wound on his shoulder bleeding once again.

"Dean, you tore your stitches!" you announced in a panic as you climbed from the bed, throwing on your panties and a discarded flannel, hastily doing up the buttons as you retrieved the first aid kit. Turning back to the bed you saw Dean sitting up against the headboard, having put his boxers back on.

You sat on the bed beside him, cleaning and redressing his wound.

"Worth it," Dean mumbled tiredly with a smile. You couldn't help smiling back at him, shaking your head as you finished treating the wound.

"You need to take it easy or it won't heal," you chastised as you put away the supplies. "Here," you said, coming back with a bottle of water and some painkillers. "Take these, it'll help."

Dean complied, taking the pills and downing half the bottle of water, setting it on the nightstand. He snuggled back down into the bed, closing his eyes and ready for sleep.

You eyed him for a moment, debating if you should take the other bed. After all, it was just a quick, post-hunt, 'I almost lost you' romp, right? And you didn't want to hurt his wound by sharing a bed. With a huff you made your way to the other bed, starting to pull back the covers.

"What're you doin'?" Dean asked, sitting up on one elbow and looking at you like you'd grown a second head.

"I just thought-"

"Lay with me?" he asked and at that moment he looked so sweet and vulnerable.

Your heart clenched a little and you nodded, climbing into bed beside him, careful not to hurt him. Dean was quick to maneuver the two of you so he could hold you, your cheek pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You felt him place a kiss on your forehead and moments later he was asleep.

Your mind and heart were a confusing minefield of emotions, but in the safety and warmth of his embrace, you couldn't bring yourself to care. Deciding that was tomorrow's problem, you let yourself fall asleep.

FOREVERS:

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DEAN WINCHESTER:

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