Summary: Sam is out on a hunt and missing you terribly
Content: Season1!Sam x college-aged!reader, soft smut (phone sex, verbal descriptors of dry humping and fingering, and male erection and release) so maybe safe for work?, reader is a bit feminine in behaviors, petnames (baby), Sam being a little protective and also an idiot in love, threats of stealing a car.
Notes: I was rewatching Supernatural on Amazon and saw this picture of Sam and couldn't get this idea out of my head. Sam just has it so bad for the reader.
Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
If Sam had thought he was going to struggle this much, he would have asked for his own room. Which would have tipped Dean off that something was up. As if Dean hadn’t thrown a look at his brother when Sam said he needed a nap instead of getting food.
“Like a sleepy-time nap?” Dean asked incredulously, regripping the keys in his hands.
“I’m tired.” Sam lied. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Just bring me back a salad.”
Dean rolled his eyes but offered no other comment. As soon as the door was closed, Sam hunched over his phone and stared at his wallpaper.
You, captured mid-laugh, the sunset in the background not half as mesmerizing. Sam had been so proud after snapping the picture. The screen went dark and Sam tapped his phone again to bring it back. He could already feel himself tightening against his pants.
Almost as if you could sense his longing, the phone started vibrating and your name appeared on the screen. Sam immediately swiped to accept the call.
“Hi baby!” You exclaimed after Sam said your name. “I miss you.”
“I miss you more.” Sam lay back onto the bed, tucking the phone against his ear.
“Not possible.” You giggled. God, he loved the sound of your laugh.
“What did you do today?” Sam questioned.
“I had class back-to-back this morning, and then I met up with Olivia for lunch. Then I worked a couple hours at the library. Now I’m just waiting to see what we’re doing for dinner.”
“That sounds fun.” Sam’s heart ached, he wished he was in the same room as you. “Did that creep show up again?”
There had been an older man that was giving you a hard time at the library. He would show up out of nowhere and follow you around no matter if you ignored him or told him your life story. And because it was a public university, no one could tell him to leave without him doing something more than being creepy.
“I don’t think so. If he did, Damon probably scared him off.”
“I doubt that dude would be scared of Damon.” Sam shook his head at the thought of anyone feeling threatened by your boss. The guy was a chump who only wished he was intimidating. Maybe after this hunt he could convince Dean to go back to the school and catch this creep in action.
“I promise, if I see him, I’ll tell him about my scary boyfriend.” You had agreed to Sam’s plan back when you had first told him about this guy.
“Maybe I can come visit and tell him myself.”
“Oh really?!” You squealed. “I would love to see you.”
“I have to ask Dean, but I’ll let you know when we wrap up here. Tell me more about your class.”
Sam loved listening to you talk. Your voice was high-pitched and breathy, and something about it always hardened his dick faster than your picture. By the time you were wrapping up your story about arguing with your partner for your presentation, Sam was tempted to pop the button on his jeans.
“You okay, baby?” You wondered when Sam was quiet for a beat too long.
“I-I…I just wish you were here.” Sam grunted through his clenched teeth. He gave in and unlatched his belt, pulling his jeans around his thighs.
“Awww, are you thinkin’ about me?” You crooned. Somehow you always knew.
“Need you so bad, baby.” Sam groaned.
“Well, hold on, I can fix it.” There was shuffling in the background and Sam wondered what you were doing. He thought he heard the click of a deadbolt. “Ok, Olivia can’t barge in. What do you need?”
“Just tell me another story.” Sam couldn’t contain the eagerness in his voice. He shifted his boxers off his hips, his cock springing free. “I wanna hear you.”
“Well, earlier I was missing you when I was trying to nap, so I put on your sweatshirt that you left here.” There was something cheeky in your tone, like you were smiling while talking. “And it smelled like you still, and then I started thinking about why you left your sweatshirt here.”
Sam moaned, knowing where this was headed. He spread his precum around on his finger before starting to pump himself.
“And I couldn’t help myself, I started missing you more. So, I put a pillow between my legs and started humping it, hoping that would help.”
“Did it?” Sam gasped.
“It got me all wet, that’s for sure. And I thought about calling you, but I knew that you were in the car with Dean, and we don’t need him to hear all of that, do we?”
“No.” Sam felt his abdomen tighten, the pain of his erection shifting into the start of his release. “Quick, before Dean gets back.”
“And since I couldn’t have you do what I’m doing now, I had to do it myself. So, I slipped a finger into my pussy and pretended it was yours.”
Sam’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. His movements were starting to stutter as his chest heaved.
“Shit, I’m close.” Sam muttered.
“Just hold on, baby, I’m almost done.” Sam had a feeling you were either touching yourself or humping a pillow again, because your voice was even more breathless. “I didn’t do as good of a job as you would have, but it was good enough. I had to scream your name into my pillow when I came so that my neighbors didn’t hear me.”
Sam’s stomach clenched and with your name hissed between his teeth he felt the tension ease as his cum shot up into the air. He closed his eyes, pretending that you were here and he was releasing directly into you.
“You alright?” You asked quietly.
“Yes.” Sam huffed, his breathing ragged. “God, yes, baby, thank you.”
“I hope you’ll come visit me soon.”
“If Dean tells me no, I’m stealing a car.” Not seeing you wasn’t an option anymore, it was an expectation.
“Just don’t get arrested, silly.” You laughed. “I don’t have money to bail you out.”
“I gotta go, baby. I’ll talk to you later.”
You hummed goodbye and blew a kiss into the speaker. Sam smiled before hanging up. He sighed as he saw the mess he had made on the bed. Tucking himself back into his clothes, Sam grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wiped the sheets as best as he could. When he realized it was still noticeable, he flipped the comforter over. Then he climbed into the shower and tried to settle his racing heart.
When Sam emerged later, Dean was sitting on his bed with a beer in one hand and a remote in the other. There was a bag of food sitting at the table. Sam nodded a greeting to his brother and beelined for his dinner.
“So,” Dean started with a grin, “your girl tell you any good stories while I was gone?”
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can i request a dean absolutely madly deeply in love with his best friend. like, bigger puppy eyes than sammy can do at the girl. but he's oblivious. until one night, the parking lot light is hitting her just right and he gets this tug in his heart and just fesses up? i'm need for some sweet fluff 🥺🩷
i love you and your writing ✨️
Xanadu
Summary: Dean insists on being only your friend, even though Sam is sure that there are more feelings there.
Content: Dean x Reader, idiot friends in love, Sam being a typical brother, drinking, teasing, Dean being protective, a small angsty fight, and fluff up the wazoo.
Note: This is a teeensy bit more angsty than your request, but I promise that it's resolved quickly. Dean pretending he isn't in love is quickly becoming one of my new favorite tropes. Love you babe! I hope you enjoy!
“You’re staring again.” Sam muttered over the lip of his beer.
“Hmmm?” Dean blinked, pulling focus away from where you’re standing at the bar getting another drink.
“Staring.” Sam repeated. “At her. Like you always are.”
“Am not!” Dean barked defensively.
“You haven’t taken you’re eyes off of her all night.” Sam explained in a monotone voice. “And today? I’m surprised you noticed the ghoul we were hunting.”
“Shut up.” Dean purposefully took a sip of his whiskey, shifting inwards to the table. “I don’t stare.”
Before Sam could continue to argue, you scooted back into the booth next to Dean. He caught a whiff of your perfume, something sweet and floral, and pretended that it didn’t immediately fill his brain with thoughts.
“What’d I miss?” You asked, glancing at both boys.
“Nothing.” Dean eyed the glass in front of you. “Did you get a lemon drop?”
“I like them, okay?” You brought the drink to your lips as if to prove a point. “I know it may shock you, but I am a girl.”
“Who said anything about me forgetting you’re a girl?” Dean asked. “Every time I shower after you, I have to pull a zillion hairs out of the drain. And don’t get me started on the number of bottles in there.”
“I’ve been traveling with you guys for three years, and now you have a problem with my beauty products?” You raised an eyebrow as you shifted to face Dean.
“It hasn’t come up before.” Dean muttered, trying to hold your gaze. You aren’t pissed, he can always tell when that’s the case, but he didn’t want to take this too far.
“Well, if you need more room, just say something, okay?” You winked at him. Dean let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and nodded. You took another sip of your drink before something caught your eye. “Oh my gosh, there’s a jukebox?!”
You’re up and out of the booth again. Dean watched you flip through the different records and wondered how one person can be so excited over the smallest thing, even after everything you’ve seen. Sure, sometimes he mocks you for it, but honestly Dean thinks it is one of your most endearing qualities.
“You’ve got it bad.” Sam shook his head, pressing his lips together to hide a smile.
“What are you even talking about?” Dean stared squarely at his brother.
“You backed off from teasing her. You were smiling like an idiot just now.” Sam leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. “Just admit you like her and ask her out already.”
“Dude, I don’t like her like that, okay? We’re just friends.” Dean wanted to put Sam in a headlock like when they were kids. Why are brothers such a menace?
“Yeah, okay.” Clearly not convinced, Sam climbed out of the booth and made his way to the bathrooms.
Dean’s eyes were drawn back to you like a magnet. Swaying in front of the jukebox, an old Bob Seger song playing, not a care in the world that you were hunting a creature of the supernatural world four hours ago. He wished he could let things go as easily as you do. But experience had taught him that it isn’t safe to let your guard down.
You turned suddenly, catching Dean’s eye, and wiggled your finger to beckon him over. He knows what you want. Every time you get a couple drinks in you, you’re begging him for a dance. Somehow you always seem to forget that Dean has a strict no dancing policy. Dean shook his head at you before finishing off his whiskey. Not one to be denied, you made your way back to the booth on a mission.
“Come on, Dean!” You whine as you approach. “They have your favorite song. Please just at least stand up there with me.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t dance. Plain and simple.” Dean ran his hand over the rim of his glass.
To try to hide your pout, you took a big gulp of your lemon drop. He can see your mind trying to come up with some way to win this battle.
“What if I do your laundry for a month?” You tried.
“Nope.”
“Buy all your drinks?”
“Tempting, but no.”
“Ugh.” You stomped your foot childishly. “Come on, Dean. Have fun with me.”
“I’m having a perfectly fine time watching you throw a tantrum.” Dean grinned.
“You suck, Winchester.” Turning on your heel, you go back to the jukebox.
Dean stood to refill his drink at the bar. He waited to catch the bartender’s eye and watched the baseball game on the TV mounted against the wall. When he turns to head back with his glass, there’s someone standing next to you, and you’re giggling.
Ice dropped into Dean’s stomach. If Sam were to ask, he would say it’s his hunter instinct to make sure you stay safe. He hadn’t seen anyone else showing interest, otherwise he would have been more careful. What if it’s a ghoul trying to plan revenge for the hunt earlier? Or some other creature that picks off hunters? The guy seems normal enough, but Dean isn’t one to take any chances.
“Hey,” Dean says as gets close, closing his hand around your elbow. “We’re gonna head out soon.”
“What do you mean?” You checked the booth that sat empty except for your finished drinks. “Sam isn’t even back yet.”
“You know him?” The threat asked over your shoulder. Dean mentally laughed.
“Yeah, he’s good.” You tell him over your shoulder before shifting your arm away from Dean. “Come on, I’m having fun.”
“We need to hit the road.” Dean repeated firmly.
“You just got another drink.” You argued.
Dean threw the drink back, swallowing it in two gulps. Your eyes widened, then started to shimmer with tears. Pushing past Dean, you head straight for the exit. Dean set his glass down on top of the jukebox, ignoring the shocked face of the young man, and goes back to the booth to collect your jacket.
Outside, the air is damp from a long-gone rain. Dean finds you standing next to the Impala, right where he parked it under a large overhead light. Something shifts in his gut, and he stands on the edge of the lot and takes in the sight of you. Warmth flooded through his chest. It’s the same thought he pushes down every night when he tries not to think of you as he falls asleep. Because he can’t risk this friendship for anything. Dean debates if he should go back inside and get Sam, but the urge to go explain himself and stop your tears overwhelms him.
“You didn’t have to be such an asshole.” You spoke as Dean got closer.
“I was getting bad vibes from him.” Dean hesitated a few feet away, out of range of your backhand.
“Yeah right. It’s always some gut feeling. If I didn’t know any better…” You sniffled, turning your back to Dean.
“What?” Dean prodded.
You’re quiet for a minute. “Sometimes I wonder if you just want me all for yourself. But you’re too scared to actually do it.”
Guilt that he had been trying to hold back floods through Dean. He had tried to be so careful not to put the thought into your head, to maintain the line of friendship. But you were right, he was always blocking the attempts of others. And in trying to protect you, he was actually hurting you.
“I-I…I didn’t…” Dean stuttered.
“Please, Dean,” you sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just go get Sam so we can leave.”
Slowly Dean made his way around the car. He glanced over the roof and saw you looking down at the ground, not crying but still puffy and red-faced. After he unlocked the car, you climbed into the back seat. Dean sits behind the wheel and turns on the car. He looked in the mirror at you hugging yourself and knew he had to do something, but he doesn’t know what. The radio starts playing, a quiet rock melody. The idea came to him instantly.
Slipping back out of the car, Dean checked through the window that you weren’t paying attention. He purposefully strode over to your door and opened it with a flourish. You whirled to look up at him in surprise. Holding out his hand, he stared at you expectantly.
“What are you…?” You trailed off, not wanting to accept the answer that was right in front of you.
“If I dance with you, will you forgive me?” Dean asked.
Dean clocked your hesitation. But he also knew that he was finally giving you something you’d always wanted. He waited, patiently, for you to take his hand and let him pull you out of the car. He opened the front passenger door, ducked inside to turn up the radio, and then returned and rested his hands on your waist. Despite your previous mood, you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
It was just a slow sway in place, not anything flashy, but you never expected that. There were a couple of inches between the two of you, and Dean shoved down the fact that he wanted to pull you close and never let you go. He’d already screwed up once; he had to tread lightly this time.
“You were right, ya know.” Dean cleared his throat, struggling to get the words right. “Somewhere down the line, I told myself I was protecting you. Both from myself and from others. But it wasn’t fair of me to take away all of your options.”
“They never meant anything, Dean.” You gazed upward, and Dean noticed how the moonlight made your eyes sparkle. “I was just trying to get your attention.”
“Sweetheart,” Dean gulped, trying to push down the flood of emotions your words brought on. “You’ve always had my attention. I just didn’t want to mess this up. You’re too important.”
To prove his point, Dean pulled you flush against him, one hand going around your waist and the other smoothing your hair back. You grinned, pressing your hands against Dean’s chest. Dean savored the feeling of having you close to him.
“If I’m being honest,” Dean said softly, “I’ve regretted every time I didn’t dance with you. You mean everything to me, and I want to show you that every day.”
You didn’t wait for Dean to initiate the kiss. You pressed your lips against his eagerly, humming low in your throat. Together you stood under the moonlight and let the music wash over you. And Sam stood at the other end of the parking lot, thanking the heavens that you both had finally stopped denying the inevitable.
Summary: Your avoiding your boyfriend who is an absolute furnace. Dean is trying to put the pieces together to figure out what's wrong.
Content: Dean x female!Reader, fluff and a teensy bit of a crack if you squint, no real warnings (unless you are self conscious about your bathroom habits) just a what-if. In general, I know most plus-sized girls run hot, but there's no mentions of readers size, so can be read however you want!
Note: I promise this has nothing to do with death or killing. I commented on a story about how if I was snuggling/sleeping with Dean I would overheat so fast, and I turned it into a drabble. For all my girlies out there who run warm!
Dean had been cataloging all of the moments when you had disappeared or gone missing. There one minute, gone the next. Mostly because it was confusing and he couldn’t figure out if he had done something wrong.
When he first noticed, you two were settled on the couch in the Dean Cave, still determining where the line was drawn in the sand when it came to your situation. You hummed with agreement when Dean asked if you wanted to share a blanket, but you sat about a foot away from him. Dean waited patiently for the movie to start before stretching his arm over the top of the couch, hoping it would entice you to snuggle into him. You’d barely blinked. After a few more minutes, he stretched his legs out so that your knees were touching. Still nothing.
“C’mere.” Dean finally mumbled, looking over at you.
You smiled shyly and scooted closer. Dean’s arm went over the top of your shoulders and he sighed contentedly. Your hand went to his chest, tracing over the buttons on his flannel, and set your head on his shoulder. On an inhale, Dean got a whiff of your shampoo, and suddenly was thinking about when it would be appropriate to shower with you.
Halfway through the movie, you started shifting like you were uncomfortable. Before Dean could ask, you sat up.
“I, uh, need to use the bathroom.” You muttered, already dumping the blanket and standing up. Dean watched you leave, his brow furrowed with worry.
It took you ten minutes before you came back with a water bottle for you and a fresh beer for him. You denied that anything was wrong, so Dean figured maybe you just didn’t want to talk about it. He pulled you back into his side but made a mental note to keep an eye on you.
About a week later was when Dean noticed again, although maybe it was nothing. Wintertime was alive and kicking and the wind chill was in the negatives. Dean had noticed that you had only a long-sleeve on under your jacket when he was packing up the car, while even he had piled on the layers. So, when he started the car, he bumped up the heat. It was warm and toasty by the time he pulled onto the main road to take them out of town.
“Can feel the wind even with the heat up.” Dean announced after a lull in conversation. “I wish we were going South instead of North.”
“It’s definitely cold out there.” You agreed, although you didn’t lift your head from your book.
If you were agreeing with him, then Dean figured you must be cold. He pushed the dial a little further into the red.
“Dude, no further, okay.” Sam ordered once he felt the increase in temperature. “We’re all dressed to be outside.”
“Just want to make sure we’re comfortable.” Dean flicked his eyes in the rearview mirror, but you were still absorbed in what you were reading.
Thirty minutes later, you picked your head up. “Could we, uh, stop somewhere? For a bathroom break?” Your voice was meek, like you regretted asking.
“Yeah, give me a few.” Dean thought it was strange you already had to go, but figured it was rude to call out someone’s bathroom habits.
When you pulled into the gas station, all three of you climbed out of the car and went inside. Sam perused the chip aisle while Dean followed you towards the restroom. When Dean returned a few minutes later, Sam was gone and you were nowhere to be seen, so he figured you probably were with him back at the car.
Except you weren’t.
“Where is she?” Dean asked Sam, who was standing outside the car munching on his snack.
“I dunno, I heard the door open, but I haven’t seen her.”
Dean surveyed the parking lot but didn’t recognize your figure. He glanced back inside but didn’t see you in any of the windows. Where could you have gone?
Just when Dean was about to pull out his phone and call you, you appeared around the side of the building.
“You get lost?” Dean asked.
“Just stretching my legs.” You answered easily. “Come on, let’s hit the road.”
Maybe you had been car sick, although that had never been the case before. Or you could really have just needed to move your legs in anticipation of the long drive. Whatever the case, Dean tucked the event away.
While on the hunt, you had agreed to share a bed with Dean for the night when the clerk told you that the room was too small for a couch. Dean had to admit he was thrilled, although you didn’t seem quite so pleased. If it was a question of comfortability, Dean hoped that you would speak up. Sure, you two were no stranger to seeing each other naked, but maybe you thought this was a little too intimate for your budding relationship.
Nothing was brought up, and Dean enjoyed the weight of someone next to him in bed, so when you returned to the bunker Dean asked if you wanted to stay with him on a more permanent basis.
“Like, move into your room?” You questioned, your fork hovering halfway between your mouth and the plate in front of you.
“Well, you don’t have to move in, per se.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t like the look that was crossing your face. “You can keep your room. But if you wanted to sleep in the same bed, since that went so well in Iowa, we could try that.”
“Let me think about it.” You replied.
Dean knew you liked your privacy, and he silently berated himself for moving so fast. He didn’t want to mess up anything with you, but he also enjoyed your company.
The next night, after Dean had rolled off you and pressed a kiss into your hair, he tried to bring it up again.
“You could stay, if you want.”
“I, uh…” You were still breathing heavily, but you turned your head and looked at him. “Do you want me to?”
“I mean, I’m not gonna say no.” Dean’s lips turned up into a half smile.
You bit your lip, and Dean tried to keep his face neutral and free from pressure.
“We’ll try it out.” You agreed. Dean kissed you softly on the mouth.
After showering and putting on fresh pajamas, you let Dean pull you close. You both talked for a bit before Dean could tell that you were struggling to stay awake. He kissed your forehead and told you to sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Dean woke to the door clicking shut. Once properly alert, he turned and saw that you weren’t in bed. Figuring that you were just using the bathroom, he shifted positions and closed his eyes. Even though he was actively trying to sleep, his brain was monitoring your return, and after a couple minutes, he started to worry.
Does she have an illness? Dean wondered. It felt like you were always leaving him to go to the bathroom. Maybe you had some bowel syndrome he didn’t know about. Or maybe she didn’t actually want to start sleeping in bed with you. Dean shook that thought from his head. You would say something if you were uncomfortable.
Wouldn’t you?
In the morning, when Dean asked where you had gone, you told him that you were getting a drink. He didn’t push, but he could tell there was something more. You never mentioned that you wanted to go back to your own bed and didn’t seem to be opposed to staying with him. But a few nights later he woke to you gone again and decided that it was time to check in.
“Can we, uh, talk?” Dean inquired. You were sitting at the table in the library, looking over a book that looked older than sin.
“Yeah, what’s up?” You adjusted the ribbon and closed the book. Dean didn’t miss that you pulled your arms into your sweatshirt and pulled one of your legs up to your chest like you were bracing for something bad.
“I just wanted to make sure you…we’re okay.” Dean waved his hand between you.
You stared at him with a blank expression. “Uh, yeah, we’re good.”
“Okay.” Dean let out a sigh. “I just, well, you seem to always disappear in the middle of spending time together. And if you want your own space, I totally understand…”
“Dean, you’re hot.” You interrupted.
“Well, uh,” Dean swallowed and shifted his weight, “thank you, but that doesn’t…”
“No,” you giggled, “Dean, I mean you run hot. Like temperature wise. And so do I.” Now it was Dean’s turn to stare blankly. “So, when we’re cuddling or laying in bed together, I overheat.”
Now some of the pieces were starting to fit. Dean nodded, slowly comprehending.
“And when we were driving to Iowa?” Dean asked.
“I was dying in the backseat, and after the bathroom I stood outside and took my jacket off to cool down.” You shifted, setting your leg back down and leaning forward.
“Why didn’t you just tell me to turn the heat down?”
“I thought you were cold.” You stated. “You made that comment about feeling the wind.”
“I thought you were cold! You only had one layer on.” Dean shook his head in disbelief.
“Yeah, cuz I knew we were gonna be in the car all day.” You got to your feet, stepping closer to Dean. “I almost stripped down to my bra, you had the car so hot.”
Dean forced back a laugh. “I thought you had Chron’s disease or something. Why did you keep saying you were going to the bathroom?” His hand settled on your hip.
“Because my mother taught me it was rude to tell people that I was uncomfortable with the temperature. So, I learned to excuse myself politely. Last night, I was standing in front of the open freezer door.” You grinned.
“Okay,” Dean chuckled, “from now on, you tell me when you’re hot. We’ll get a fan for the room.”
“And, maybe, we can use separate blankets?” You ran your hand over Dean’s cheek. “It helps, at least for me.”
“Whatever you need.” Dean wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you gently. “Honestly, woman, you’re gonna be the death of me. Stop being so polite.”
“I didn’t know it was bothering you.” You pressed your lips to Dean’s a second time. “I will stop using my manners and just yell ‘I’m hot’ as loud as I possibly can.” You both laughed.
Dean wrapped his arms around your torso, setting his chin on top of your head as he hugged you. You brought your arms around him, taking in his cologne and the strength of his arms. For a minute you stood like that, basking in each other’s presence.
“Ya know,” you muttered cheekily. “I’m actually kind of hot right now.”
Before Dean could ask you what you meant, you pressed your hips into his, and he let out a soft groan.
“Well, that kind of hot,” Dean pulled away and looked at you, his forest green eyes sparkling and alert. “I am actually a pro at helping with.”
Divider by @easytiger-xo
If you enjoyed this please leave me a comment or reblog so I know! Thank you for reading
Summary: While out on a hunt, you get stuck in a room with Dean and have to depend on him while you wait.
Warning: If you have Cleithrophobia (fear of being stuck or trapped) please use caution reading this.
Content: Dean + Reader, Sam being a menace, enemies to friends, swearing, bantering, freezing temperatures and being cold, getting trapped, panic attacks, grounding techniques, Dean being sweet (and a literal warm body)
Notes: So, fun fact, I've always had an issue with getting trapped. Like, I remember vividly watching an episode of Barney and crying because he got stuck in the playground. And it took me this long to look if there was an actual name for it. But this story really is inspired by the lovely winter temps we've been having and it kind of spiraled from there. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
“Okay,” Sam proclaimed in his usual commanding tone, “it’s gonna be easier to split up. I’ll head to the front of the warehouse; you and Dean take the back.”
Thankfully you were standing behind and to the side of the older Winchester, so you could roll your eyes without being seen. Sam knew how you felt about getting tag-teamed with Dean. Whether he saw you or not was left to be determined as Sam finished giving instructions and then pivoted on his heel and headed into the shadows.
“So, I guess we…” Dean mumbled, the wind whipping past him. You refused to hide your irritation and stalked off before he could finish. You swore you heard Dean sigh.
It had been like this for months. You’d never taken to Dean, but after he ripped into you on a hunt and treated you like a three-year old, you had done what you could to stay out of his way. Sure, you had been reckless and charged at the ghoul when Dean had clearly ordered you to stay behind him. But you had seen an opening to save the innocent, and you had taken it. Honestly, you were surprised Dean wasn’t singing your praises. It was exactly the sort of risky move he would have taken.
Yanking the door open, you felt the already frigid temperature drop another five degrees. Clearly, the heat wasn’t working in the back half of the building. Dean was a couple steps behind you and swore under his breath as the door shut with a clang.
“Do you wanna stick together or take opposite ends?” Dean asked politely.
“Let’s split up,” you answered too quickly. The space was large and desolate, a few desks and chairs the only real furniture inside. “If I see something, I’ll holler.”
Dean hummed in response and took the South wall which had a few doors that probably led to offices or storage closets. You headed further into the room, your eye on an area with a strange glowing light. Unfortunately it turned out to just be a lightbulb covered in dust that someone had left on in a room that held a small washtub sink. There were only two other rooms on your side of the building and neither of them contained anything useful. Your path led you to meet Dean at the last door.
“Find anything?” Dean had actually zipped his jacket at some point, which was rare. It was freezing in here.
“I would have called if I did.” You told him icily. Glancing at the door, you noticed a sign with faded letters.
DO NO C S
R. K!
“Do not csrrrrk.” Dean made an awful noise as he smashed the last four letters together.
“It doesn’t say that, dumbass.” You leaned in closer, trying to make out the other letters. “Do not….cross? I wonder if this leads to the other side.”
“Well, if it says don’t cross, then maybe it’s blocked or something.”
“It could say anything, Dean!” You groaned, getting more frustrated by the second. “It was probably so staff didn’t block the hallway or something. Come on.”
You pulled at the door and it didn’t budge. Then you realized you had to press down on a small latch and it opened easily, although a few rust flakes floated past your face. Holding the door open you made a face at Dean.
“You coming or what?”
“Yeah, I’m right behind you.” Dean put his arm out to hold the door open and you both stepped inside.
The space was pitch black once the door shut. Clearly there were no windows here. Dean clicked on his flashlight and it bounced off a wall about four feet away from you.
“Oh-kaayyyy, so it isn’t a hallway.” You turned around to leave and pressed the bar to release the door. It didn’t budge. You tried again, pushing down the bar over and over. The door wasn’t moving. “What the fuck?”
“Let me try.” Dean tucked the flashlight under his arm and repeated what you had just done with a little extra effort. Other than a small groan of metal, there was no movement.
“Are we stuck in here?” You shrieked, your voice echoing.
“Let me call Sam.” Dean fished his phone out of his pocket. He had barely flipped open the phone when he pursed his lips. “I got no bars. What about you.”
Your chest was filling with dread as you reached into your back pocket. “Nope, but I’ll send a text, maybe it will go through.”
Typing out an S.O.S. message, you hit send and your phone indicated it was working at pushing the message through. After a minute, the screen flashed “failed to send”. Your hand started to shake as you looked up at Dean.
“He’s gonna find us, right?” You whimpered.
“Obviously, we all came here together. Sam’s not gonna just leave.” Dean licked his lips. “Besides, he knows that if you’re alone with me for too long, there’s a chance you might murder me.”
“Ha-ha, verry funny.” You mocked. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tried to contain what little body heat you had left.
“You cold?” Dean wondered. He set the flashlight on the ground to illuminate more of the room.
“Well, it’s not exactly the Bahamas in here.” You snapped. Your jaw and lower lip started to vibrate without your consent. Pretty soon your teeth would be chattering.
“C’mere,” Dean held out his arms. You stared at him blankly. “I have body heat, I can warm you up. Will it really kill you?”
“It might.” Your legs start to shake. Dean isn’t even shivering, how is he not cold?
“Your funeral.” Dean’s hands fall to his sides and he looks around like there’s something to entertain him. You tuck your hand under your chin, trying to use some of the heat from your neck to warm you. “Why do you hate me, anyway?”
“I-I…” You pause, trying to think of what to say. “I don’t hate you. I just think we never got off on the right foot. And then the whole thing in Cheboygan.”
“Cheboygan?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “The ghoul hunt?”
“You don’t remember?” You scoffed. “You laid it on thick in the motel room after I ran past you to save the girl.” Even in the dim light, you could see Dean’s ears redden. “Mmhmm. Seemed pretty clear what you thought of me after that.”
“What I thought of you?” Dean replied. “That…that was because you scared the hell out of me.”
Blinking, you look at Dean. His face isn’t filled with anger, it’s some mixture of reverence and regret. He’s never looked at you like that before.
“I don’t know why it scared you,” you answer, ignoring the feeling you get from the look. “It’s exactly the sort of thing that you would have done.”
“Just because you’re proud of saving someone doesn’t mean it was the smart thing to do.”
“And what should I have done? Stayed behind you and let her get hurt?”
“Let us figure it out as a team. And she wasn’t in that much danger to begin with. Not enough to risk your life like that.” He was making the face again. Your stomach churned.
“Like I said, you would have done the same thing.” You hugged yourself tighter.
“And you would have called me out on my shit.” Dean shook his head, his lips upturning into a smirk. “You know, we’re a lot more similar than I think you realize.”
“God, that’s a scary thought.” You turned your attention back to your phone, trying to hold it up and get at least a bar for your message to go through. A new wave of panic ripped through you, causing you to feel your chest shaking. You really needed to get out of here. “Damn it.”
“Sam will be here.” Dean was watching you closely as you looked at the door again, wondering if it was worthwhile to try another round of slamming the bar down. “You claustrophobic?”
“More like stuck-phobic, whatever that word is.” You could feel your chest heaving as your throat started to constrict. Tears crept into your eyes.
“Hey, hey.” Dean stepped closer, pausing for just a second to judge if you were gonna react before he put his hands on your shoulders. “Just look at me.”
“Not gonna make us less stuck.” You muttered as you met his eyes. Flecks of gold twinkled in the glare from the flashlight.
“No, but you’re probably having a panic attack. I’m gonna try to keep you calm. Shit, what is that thing?” Dean bit his lip. You stared at him in confusion. “You know, the grounding thing.”
“Like, use your senses to calm yourself?”
“Yeah! Ok, what can you smell?”
“Wet dog.” You sniped. Dean narrowed his eyes, causing you to laugh. “Okay, fine. I smell metal and sandalwood.”
“How’d you know I was wearing sandalwood?”
“Because I looked at your shampoo bottle, genius.” You weren’t sure if it was focusing on your senses or the conversation itself, but you were starting to feel better.
“What do you hear?”
“An arrogant hunter and the hum of the flashlight bulb overheating.”
“You can hear that?”
“Yeah, you’re pretty loud and obnoxious.” You grinned when Dean shot you another look.
“Are you gonna take this seriously?”
“I’m having a grand old time.”
“Your sarcasm is gonna be the death of me.” Dean shifted closer, causing your heart to start racing. “What can you feel?”
“The weight of your hands and a rock that is stuck in my shoe.” You didn’t mention that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.
“What can you see?”
“The gold flecks in your eyes.” You whispered.
Both of you stayed like that for a minute, quiet and breathing the same air. Something shifted like sand tumbling down a hill. Dean was running his thumb over your jacket in small strokes. Reaching up, you placed your hands on his forearms and copied his movement.
“You still cold?” Dean asked softly.
“A little,” you admitted.
Without asking this time, Dean pulled you against him, forcing your arms to wrap around his torso. Or so you told yourself. Because admitting that you were hugging Dean and enjoying it was not something you were ready to do. His heartbeat was steady under your cheek. Not only did you feel warm on the outside, but you were beginning to feel something growing in between your legs.
“Guys?” Sam’s voice called out from somewhere on the other side of the door.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, jumping away from Dean. “Sam! In here!”
You start pounding on the door frantically. After a minute, the door blessedly opens and, in your fervor, you launch yourself and hug Sam around the waist.
“Uh,” Sam lifts his arms in surprise, not sure if he should hug you back. “What happened?”
“Got locked in.” Dean answers as he exits the room.
“I’m surprised you two didn’t kill each other.” Sam watches you pull away and share a look with Dean.
please let me know if this isn't specific enough!!
but i'd really like more of your sam angst, i am in love with the way you write him & i really loved the fic about him defending reader in the bar + when he was trying to find a demon who would make a deal with him after dean died 🥺
maybe an argument between him and reader, or placing them in a stressful situation thay causes an argument or something. literally i will be happy with whatever you come up with even if it's none of the above lol
literally just sam + angst = a v happy daisy ! xx
Even Then
Summary: You're convinced that Sam is never going to forgive you, until he explains things from his perspective.
Content: Sam x Reader, swearing, lying, mentions of reader being hurt and restrained on a hunt, angsty feelings, avoidance/silent treatment, uhhmmm idk if there are other warnings.
Note: Well, my dear @dontlistentodaisy, I hope this is angsty enough for you. I actually had a Sam x Reader fight that I've been struggling with for a couple months, and I thought I would make some edits and it would come out great. Instead, I went a whoooollleee different direction. I hope you like it. And thank you for saying you like how I write Sam, he doesn't come as easily to me as Dean does, but I love learning about his character and showing sides we might not have seen.
You were royally fucked.
It wasn’t just that you had taken on a hunt without backup, ended up being held hostage for four days because the spirit was a sadistic bastard, and then fractured your wrist in your haste to escape.
No, you were fucked because Sam Winchester had specifically told you not to go.
And now you had absolutely no idea if he would be pissed or relieved to see you.
To deepen the wound even more, you had called Dean when you finally got to a gas station with a phone. You could practically feel Sam simmering in the background as you asked the cashier where you were so that you could get picked up. Once Dean finally showed up (with no Sam riding shotgun), he waited a total of about ten minutes before asking why you had called him instead of Sam.
“Sam would have had to ask you to take the car.” You lied. “It was easier this way.” Dean hummed in acknowledgement, but you knew that he didn’t believe you. “Why…uh…why didn’t he come with?”
“He said he had something to finish up.” Dean offered, not taking his eyes off the road.
If you called him a liar, he would just throw it right back at you. So instead, neither of you talked the rest of the way home, which did nothing but build the dread in your gut. You debated delaying this further by having Dean take you to urgent care, but you knew the sooner you faced Sam, the sooner your anxiety would ease.
Once you got back to the bunker, Dean muttered something about being glad you were safe and then disappeared. Which left you to find Sam, because if you went straight to your room and hid from him, there was no chance in hell he was going to forgive you.
The public areas were empty, so he had to have gone into his room. Knowing Sam, it was to have as much privacy as possible. Waiting after you knocked on the door felt like hours instead of seconds. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Finally, you heard a response that you could enter.
Sam was sitting on the floor with his back against the foot of the bed, one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. Although he didn’t look up as you came in, you immediately noticed the layer of fuzz growing along his jaw. His torso was covered with a baggy sweatshirt and his hair looked limp and oily. You picked at the skin around your nails as you watched him, wincing with the movement of your bandaged wrist but continuing habitually. Did he want you to say something first? Or did he want to punish you by sitting in silence?
“Are you hurt?” Sam finally asked.
“Some scratches,” you replied quietly, “and I screwed up my wrist pretty bad. Probably gonna need a cast.”
“Dean can take you in the morning.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that you knew Sam better than anyone, you would have brushed off the comment and chalked it up to him being busy. But there was ice behind his tone; this was the slow wind up before the pitch.
“Sam, I didn’t…” Your words got stuck in your throat. Pushing down the emotion that flooded you took tremendous effort. “I called Dean because I was scared.”
“Scared of me?” He asked gruffly.
“No, scared that you wouldn’t come pick me up.”
Finally, Sam looked up at you. His normally bright eyes were rimmed with red like he had been rubbing them repeatedly. It was difficult to read the expression on his face because you had never seen it before. Sam clambered to his feet and faced you squarely.
“If that was your first instinct,” Sam growled, “you clearly don’t know me very well.”
Before you could process what was happening, Sam stepped forward and herded you back to the door. Once you were out in the hall, he closed the door sharply, leaving you standing there with your mouth agape.
After the clock read 2 am, you decided that sleep was never going to come. When you closed your eyes, you either saw glimpses of your time tied up in the basement, or the deadpan look on Sam’s face as he kicked you out of his room. All you had wanted to do was hide from Sam’s anger, and instead, somehow you had made it worse. Never in your life had you seen Sam that upset. And you didn’t even get a chance to say hi or hug him like you had desperately wanted to.
For the rest of the morning, your thoughts raced. What you should have said instead. How you could make this better. The way that Sam would respond if you explained your logic for how things went down. You spiraled your way into a plan, and once you were one hundred and ten percent sure it couldn’t go wrong, you put it into action.
Dean didn’t seem all that surprised to find you sitting in the kitchen when he stumbled in. He thanked you for making coffee, but you were on your third cup and hyper focused on the plan. It was time to fix this and make it right. Sam had to come in here eventually, and you were gonna get down on your hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness.
When Sam finally arrived, in a tank top and basketball shorts with fresh sweat dripping down his neck, he barely glanced at you on his way to the fridge.
“Sam,” you started after a deep breath, “I know that this hasn’t been an easy week. And I just wanted to…”
Your voice trailed after Sam, who had grabbed a protein shake and immediately walked back out. No acknowledgement, no pause to hear what you had to say, he had just straight up ignored you. You sat there buffering like an old computer, trying to make sense of it.
It happened two other times that day. When you found Sam in an old records room digging through boxes, he mumbled that he found what he needed and promptly left empty handed. After lunch, you followed Dean out to the garage, despite his mantra that he didn’t need help, because you were desperate to talk to someone. Instead, Dean studiously avoided all your questions and under-handed comments, and when Sam paused in the doorway and met your eyes, he turned away instead of entering.
Dean offered to order pizza for dinner. Even though you were starving, the thought of food was enough to stir the nausea in your gut. Still, you hoped it might bring the three of you around a table, so you agreed and demanded Dean order extra olives for Sam. Twenty minutes later, you realized your effort was futile. Sam grabbed an apple off the counter and said he was going for a walk and wasn’t interested in pizza.
Anger flared through you as Sam headed out into the hallway. How could one man be so stubborn and refuse to look you in the eye? It wasn’t even like you had been avoiding him, he was enacting all this on you! The least he could do was tell you that he didn’t feel like talking or promise to work through it later.
You’d had enough of the silent treatment. Dean was smart enough to keep his mouth shut as you stormed after Sam. He ignored you yelling his name, and when the front door slammed shut, you cursed and ran back to your room to put on shoes.
“Samuel!” You screamed over the wind.
Finally, Sam chose to acknowledge you and stopped walking. His face was neutral as you marched towards him, but you could see his jaw tightening.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You gasped when you finally reached him. “I have to chase you down to get you to talk to me now?”
Sam shrugged his shoulders. It reminded you of a little kid who knew they had done something wrong but wouldn’t admit it. Part of you wanted to lecture him about his silence, but you also were ready for him to bolt, so you needed to be precise with your words.
“Fine, then just listen.” You exhaled and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you about going to Nebraska. It was stupid and reckless, and I got what I deserved by getting hurt and captured. And I should have called you first instead of Dean. But the entire time I was walking back to town, all I could think about was you saying “I told you so” and hanging up, and I couldn’t handle that. Not after everything that had already happened. So, I’m sorry.” Tears pricked at your eyes, your vision blurring. “And I really wish that you would just talk to me.”
Sam sighed heavily before closing the gap between you and placing his hands on your shoulders. You wanted to lean into him, but he was already opening his mouth to speak.
"I don't want an apology. I never did.” Sam shook his head. “I wanted you to understand what you did."
“I know what I did, Sam!” You exclaimed. “I screwed up!”
“That’s not what I mean.” Sam paused, his eyes flickering over your features. His hands slid down to your waist like he was trying to ground himself. “When you didn’t come back that night, I knew that you had gone to Nebraska. But I figured you would call me in the morning and either admit you shouldn’t have been alone or tell me how you kicked ass.” He smiled when you snorted through your nose. “Instead, you disappeared. If you hadn’t broken your phone, maybe you’d get it. I called you fifty times. I spent hours trying to trace your location. Dean was about to lock me in my room so that I didn’t just start driving aimlessly to find you.”
You watched Sam’s face twist with pain at the memory. He was right, maybe you would have realized how panicked he was if your phone hadn’t been smashed to bits.
“Then you call Dean and ask him to come get you? And waltz back in here like my whole world hadn’t been upside down for three days? I couldn’t…” Sam’s voice cracked. He swallowed and squeezed your hip. “I was angry. Because you clearly didn’t understand what I had just gone through. Here I am terrified I’ll never see you again, and you’re worried that I’m mad enough to leave you there? I would have gotten into a clown car if I had to. And yeah, the silent treatment probably wasn’t…”
Pushing up to your tip toes, you threw your arms around Sam’s neck, silencing him. He stilled briefly before wrapping you tightly in his hold. A tear slipped down your cheek. Sam’s breathing softened the longer you stood there in each other’s embrace.
“Sam,” you whispered into his neck, “the only thing that kept me functioning in that house was the thought of coming back here to you. I should have known that you would do anything you could to get me back. I never should have doubted you.”
“Don’t forget next time.” Sam replied, squeezing you around the middle.
“Next time!” You shrieked, pulling back and smacking his chest. Sam was desperately trying to hide his laughter. “Sam, I swear to…”
Sam grabbed the back of your neck before you could finish and kissed you feverishly. You melted against him, the anger already dissipating, because no matter what happened next, you knew that Sam would be there.
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Summary: Requested. Dean is being hot and cold with you and you've finally had enough.
Content: Dean x Female Reader, implied sexual relations, Dean being a bit of a prick, TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of loss of pregnancy and miscarriage, a bit of swearing, hunting related injuries, angst and tension, calling boys out on their crap, a little bit of manipulative behavior if you squint, and I think that's it. If I missed one, I'm sorry.
Note: Thank you for requesting @urslurten I hope 3.6k is long enough for you :) If you like it, please leave a comment or reblog!
If you were being honest, trying to figure out Dean’s moods was harder than killing a lamia.
Not two days ago, the man had been all business and focus, the picture of professionalism. He had talked to you, sure, but none of it was personal or charming. It was all about the case and nothing more. There had been no hint of desire in his eyes.
Now, he had you shoved up against the side of his car, one hand slipping under your shirt while the other palmed your ass over your jeans. He might have been on a mission to find your tonsils with how deeply he was kissing you. If he pressed into you any harder, you had a feeling the car was going to start tipping.
Dean pulled away, his hot breath a cloud of air around you, and raised an eyebrow. “Backseat?”
Chewing on your bottom lip, you gazed into his blown pupils. He must have mistaken your hesitancy for a seductive look because he grinned and pulled at the door latch next to your hip. Your brain screamed that you needed to stop him and make him admit this was another round of your typical cycle, and you were sick of it. But still you crawled onto the leather bench and let Dean settle himself over you.
The details of how this had all started were a little hazy. Getting chased through the woods by a kitsune and getting scratched to hell. Dean patching you up in a secluded cabin and staying with you to rest for the night. Something shifting in the air between you two. A kiss turning into more.
What you knew for sure was the next morning Dean had acted like nothing had happened. Clearly, his whole world hadn’t just tilted on its axis. He had rewrapped your bandage, packed the bags, and hustled you out of there in the name of breakfast. But you met up with Sam, so it didn’t count as a date. And then Dean smiled and said if you ever needed help to just holler and left you in a cloud of dust.
Then, to make matters worse, you had to call Dean about a month later. He had asked what you were hunting, and you told him this was something else entirely. Your period was late and you were staring at a positive pregnancy test. Dean hadn’t said anything for almost two minutes. You had started to cry.
Suddenly, the questions started about how this could have happened. Had the condom ripped? Weren’t you on the pill? None of the answers ever made it to Dean, because you hung up. His anger at the situation didn’t resolve the flurry of thoughts running through your head. How were you going to raise a baby? Did you even want to keep it?
A week later, the universe decided for you.
You texted Dean it had been a false alarm.
He responded Thank God.
Nobody ever knew that you fell apart.
For a while, you avoided the Winchesters. When Jody would bring them up in conversation, you would smile politely and then change the topic. Dean texted you once asking where you were, and you tracked his phone just so you could tell him somewhere on the opposite end of the continent. Sam texted you the next day asking if you had used his tracking service and you lied and said you needed to find a witness. You prayed Sam wasn’t doing the exact same thing to you.
Then, about a year and a half later, there was a rugaru in Nebraska. After you caught wind of it and started investigating, you heard the familiar purr of a black car and knew that your luck had run out. It was a small farming town that had exactly one motel, so you had nowhere to hide. Sure, you could have hightailed it out of there, but you had never backed down from a hunt, and you weren’t about to let Dean Winchester be the reason you did.
Seeing Dean again was like a punch to the gut. At first, he was standoffish, but as the days wore on, he started to warm to you again. If Sam noticed anything weird between you two, he chose to stay silent. Once the hunt was over, Dean asked if he could take you out for a drink. You hoped that you would talk about what happened, maybe even admit what you had finally come to terms with. Instead, Dean told you he was sorry for how he reacted, and then somehow you found yourself wrapped around his torso in the bathroom.
One could blame it on the whiskey.
Or say that Dean was charming and determined.
But if you were being honest, Dean was like a drug that you just weren’t ready to quit.
So now here you were, six months into a situationship, with a million unanswered questions and a laundry list of things that you needed to say but never would. It was easiest in moments like these when you were tucked against his chest, his fingers tracing idle shapes along your back, and life was at a standstill. But something needed to change.
“Dean,” you whispered into the hollow of his neck. He hummed in response. “Do you…what is this?”
Shifting to glance down at you, Dean raised an eyebrow. “What’s what, sweetheart?”
“Us.” You waved your hand between your naked bodies. “We hunt together, we have sex, and then we don’t talk for two weeks. What do you call something like that?”
“I call it fun.” Dean pressed his lips to your temple. “Don’t think about it too hard.”
“Don’t…” you started, wanting to repeat what he had said for clarity, but Dean was already shifting to sit up. The leather of the bench seat squeaked as you fought to stay in your position and not fall forward onto the floor. Dean sat with your feet in his lap, scrunching his torso to put his shirt back on.
“You gonna get dressed? Sam wanted to leave town twenty minutes ago but I told him I had more pressing things to deal with.” Dean winked at you. He bent over to grab a pile of clothes and his cock pressed into your foot. Untangling everything, he tossed your shirt at you. “Where are you headed next?”
You finally shifted into a sitting position, holding your shirt over your chest while you collected the rest of your clothes. “Uh, I don’t know yet. My car is still at the motel, you can just drop me off there.”
And that’s how you found yourself standing next to your car watching the Impala peel out onto the main road feeling like an abandoned dog.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
You never knew when exactly you would be seeing him again. That was one of the worst things about this arrangement. It had been almost three weeks since the lamia in New York and you hadn’t heard a peep from either of the Winchesters. For now, you were focused on the ghost that was haunting an uninhabited house in New Mexico.
Traipsing through the house, your gun at shoulder level, it was hard to keep your eye on every crevice and corner. The silence was all consuming. Kids who had been breaking in had seen the ghost in the back bedroom, but you knew better than to assume it would only show up there. What you didn’t know was what seemed to set it off so that it appeared.
Stepping on a pile of broken glass nearly made you jump straight up into the air. Clearly someone had dropped something when they were last here. Or the ghost was practicing moving things in its semi-corporeal form.
Just as you turned the corner, something solid came flying at your face. You comprehended that it was a mid-sized mirror right before it crashed into you. Glass sprayed across your face as you fell to the ground. Tiny, stinging cuts opened over your skin and when you brought your fingers up to your face they came away tinged with pink. You looked down the hallway and saw a young boy standing there grinning. Behind him was at least thirty mirrors lining the wall.
It took you another couple of hours to find the body buried out back and burn the remains. You only got hit with one other mirror while inside the house before blasting the ghost with rock salt. Unfortunately, that mirror shattered against your shoulder, catching your face again as well as your exposed hand. When you stopped at the drug store to pick up a large bottle of antiseptic, you could feel people looking at you.
That night, after one of the most painful showers you’d ever taken, your phone started ringing. Seeing as you were in the middle of checking yourself for anything that was still bleeding, you picked up without glancing at the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hey there, sweetheart.” Dean greeted. You blanched, all thought leaving your head. He never called you first. What was going on? “You good?”
“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “just cleaning up after a case. What’s up?”
“I was talkin’ to Sam, and we could use your help with a situation in Utah.”
“Well, I’m in New Mexico, so that shouldn’t be too far.” You tried to push down the hope that Dean missed you and not just your hunting expertise. “Give me the details.”
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Dean had given you a motel address and said to meet them there. After starting out at first light, you made it as the sun was starting to set. The Impala sparkled in the parking lot outside of room #4. You knocked and stepped back to wait.
When the door opened, you were greeted with a dim room filled with candles and Dean dressed in a nice button-up shirt and what you knew were the slacks from his FBI suit. Your jaw dropped.
“What is this?” You asked quietly, not sure if you should move and shatter the illusion.
“A little alone time that’s long overdue.” Dean announced proudly. “Sam is actually nerding out at the bunker over some Men of Letter’s crap, and I have this room booked for the weekend.”
He beckoned you inside with his arm and you finally stepped over the threshold. Dean leaned in to kiss your cheek, then paused with a frown. “What happened to your face?”
“Oh, ghost started throwing mirrors at me.” You chuckled as you took your jacket off, but Dean wasn’t seeing the humor. “I’m fine, really, they look worse than they are.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, his lips turning to a frown.
“C-c-call you?” You looked at Dean in surprise. “Dean, the ghost would have thrown mirrors whether you were there or not. It was an easy salt and burn.”
“You shouldn’t have gone in alone.”
Something hot prickled at your chest. You tossed your jacket onto the chair and faced Dean squarely. “And the numerous other times that I’ve been hunting alone have been fine? It’s just this one instance?”
“I never liked you hunting alone, but this just proves you should have a partner.”
“Hmm.” Your hand went to your hip. “And who left me in New York two weeks ago like I was a dog they had gotten sick of?”
“Well, that…” Dean licked his lip absently, “I didn’t say the partner had to be me and Sam. And you said you had somewhere to be.”
“No, in fact, I had no cases lined up.” Your voice was rising. “And I seem to recall that when I tried to team up with Beckman a couple months ago that you thought that was a horrible idea.”
“Because Beckman is an idiot!” Dean hollered. “Everyone knows that.”
“So, who should I team up with, Dean? Since you seem to just want to be in charge of every aspect of my life.”
“Hey, I never…”
“Should I go find Jodi and be one of her strays? Or maybe I’ll go find Ron.” You smirked.
“Ron?” Dean’s nose flared.
“Ha! Just admit it Dean, you don’t want any other male hunters in my life. But you’re too chicken to have me tag along with you and Sam because then you’ll have to put a label on whatever the hell this is.”
“I didn’t say that.” Dean growled.
“What did you think was gonna happen?” You were starting to pace because you were too livid to look at Dean. It was all tumbling out of you. “We’d have sex all weekend and you could pound out your feelings for another couple of weeks? Maybe spend enough time with me that you’d lose interest? Or find out I’m better when we’re in the backseat of the car! That has to be it!”
“You’re being ridiculous right now.” Dean’s lips were set in a firm line.
“Am I, Dean?” You whirled and faced him. “Six months of mindless sex and no real connection. Eight if you count the time when we first got together and you acted like nothing had even happened. And don’t get me started on the baby that I lost and you didn’t give two shits…”
“That you lost?” Dean interrupted, his eyes widening. “You said it was a false alarm!”
You hugged your arms around your midsection, dropping your head. “Yeah, well, I might have fabricated what happened.” A little flare of anger returned. “But it was only because you were so adamant about not wanting the baby.”
“I never said that!” Dean barked. You looked up at him, shock flaring across your face. “Look, I,” he ran his hand through his hair, “I was surprised, yes, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. But when you told me it was a false alarm or whatever, part of me was a little disappointed.” Dean glanced at you sheepishly.
“Disa-“ Your mouth went dry. “But you said thank God.”
“I told you,” Dean sighed, “I’m not proud of how I reacted. I didn’t think I was ready to be a dad. But after you told me it wasn’t happening, I realized that part of me wanted to get out of hunting, start a life with someone. I just never thought I would get the chance.”
“So, your solution was, what, Dean?” Your romantic heart wanted to jump into Dean’s arms and give him the chance to put another baby in you. Your realistic side was finding too many holes in his logic. “Stop talking to me? Act like I don’t exist?”
“Hey, I talked to you!”
“You texted me, like, three times before we met up again for the rugaru hunt.” You rolled your eyes. “Wow, I’m so absolutely flattered.”
“Okay, when did this turn into the rag on Dean show?” Dean crossed his arms. “I was trying to do something nice for you this weekend!”
“Yeah, for the first time in eight months!” You cried. “You tell me you want me, and then in the next sentence kick me out of the back seat of your car because you want to get a head start on traffic. I’m nothing more than a glorified hook up. You told me in New York that this was just fun for you.”
For once, Dean didn’t have a response. His jaw tightened and he looked across the room like he was trying to find an answer.
“Look, I really didn’t intend for all of this to spill out just now, but it’s the truth. I don’t want to do this if you’re going to keep being hot and cold with me.” You grabbed your jacket and looked him in the eye. “I deserve better than that.” Pulling the door open, you walked out feeling twenty pounds lighter.
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You should have just left town, but it was already past dusk, and you weren’t interested in even another hour in the car. So, you crossed town and found a room with no candles and a semi-comfortable bed. Then you ordered a pizza, showered, and slipped into your comfy clothes.
Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. You retrieved the cash from your wallet and went to hand the money to the driver. Instead, Dean was standing at your door.
“Thank God.” Dean groaned, looking relieved. You raised an eyebrow. “The receptionist wouldn’t tell me if you were here or not, and the man two doors down threatened to shoot me for bothering him.”
“You realize there’s this thing called a phone, right?”
“We both know you would have ignored me. Which I would have deserved.” Dean pointed into the room. “Can I come in?”
“Uh,” Seeing as Dean was already moving past you, you didn’t have much to say. “Sure.”
Just as you were shutting the door, you saw a car pull up with a light-up decal on top of it from where you had ordered. Dean seemed to have already made himself at home, checking out what was stocked in the mini fridge (nothing) before flopping onto the second bed. You thanked the driver before carrying your pizza to the small table.
“Oooh,” Dean mumbled, watching you. He was starting to sit up already like you’d invited him to come grab a slice.
“Dean,” you sighed, “I swear to God, I’m gonna kick you out.”
“What?!” Dean’s eyes widened.
“You invite yourself over, get all comfortable like I asked you to stay, and now you’re eyeing my dinner?” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Could you please get a handle on yourself and just tell me why you’re here so I can go back to my quiet night.”
Dean frowned like you’d offended him. “Do you at least wanna eat first?” He finally grumbled.
“Oh, look at that, the man does have manners!” You clapped once. “Yes, I would. But if you would like to talk while I eat, I’m okay with that.”
It was like teasing a dog with a bone. He moved to the edge of the bed, but you were sure his mouth was salivating. You knew eventually you’d let him have a slice or two since you wouldn’t finish the whole thing, but it was a matter of principle.
“I’ve had some time to think.” Dean started, running his hand through his hair.
“Wow, a whole twenty minutes.” You muttered as you chewed your bite.
“Hey, I don’t need the side comments, you got to talk earlier.” Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Now it’s my turn.”
“Sorry.” You mimed zipping your lips up.
“What you said was true, I haven’t treated you right. I’ve been taking advantage of you and letting myself get comfortable in the thought that it didn’t bother you. And I get why you made it seem like a false positive for the pregnancy, I was a jerk. I wish you had told me, though, because I would have been there for you to deal with that. I can’t change how I’ve treated you, but I want to make a promise to start being better, if you’ll let me.” Dean watched for your reaction. You kept your face neutral, not sure if you were allowed to talk again. “What do you think?”
“And what would you trying harder look like?” You wondered.
“More communication and getting to know you. Maybe a couple dates. And, when you’re ready,” Dean smiled, “you can move into the bunker with me and Sam, if you want.”
Your lips parted as you processed Dean’s words. This was a complete 180 from what you had been doing, and a place to live that wasn’t a hotel room? You chewed your pizza, trying to look like you were thinking, but you were too overwhelmed to form a coherent answer.
“I’m pretty much done,” you shifted the box in Dean’s direction. “You want a slice?”
Dean came and sat across from you at the table, watching you as he grabbed the food like you might take back your offer.
“You don’t have to give me an answer right now.” Dean added after he had swallowed. “On any of it.”
“I just…” You shook your head. “This feels like its coming out of left field. Or it’s some kind of honey trap.”
“It’s not.” Dean reached out, placing his hand over the top of yours. “If you want to never see me again, I get it. But watching you walk out that door made me realize that I don’t want to lose you. You’re a great lay.”
“Dean!” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide a laugh. Dean chuckled.
“No, seriously, I care about you. And I’ll say it for the hundredth time; I’ve been an idiot. I hope you’ll forgive me and give me another chance.”
Dean was smoothing his thumb along your knuckles, and you felt your heart melting. You knew your guard would be up until Dean showed you he meant it, but you wanted to try again with him. Slowly you stood and moved around the table, settling yourself across Dean’s lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Is this a yes?” Dean asked quietly.
“It’s not a no.” You teased, pressing yourself closer.
Dean’s eyes were laser focused on your mouth. Before you could move in, he pounced, closing the gap between you and fiercely capturing your lips. You moaned softly. Wasting no time, Dean held you tighter and stood up. You wrapped your arms around his torso with a shriek, but he never wavered in his grip. He set you gently on the bed, and spent the rest of the night making sure that your answer was yes.
Summary: You go for a walk to clear your head and end up stressing out Dean.
Content: Dean + Female!Reader, crying, mentions of seasonal affective disorder, processing emotions, swearing.
Note: I'm not gonna lie guys, I had this 97% written and then read an amazing story that messed with the concept of Dean I had laid out. So I struggled wrapping this up. I'm thinking of doing a part two, let me know if you would like that please! Part 2 is up, link at the bottom :)
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You really hadn’t intended to disappear. With Dean passed out on the bed in the middle of the afternoon, you had decided to step outside to get some fresh air. Across the street from the motel was an expanse of woods that seemed to stretch on forever. That was when the idea came to you. Really it was more like an overwhelming need to just walk and be surrounded by nature. So, you crossed the rural highway and found a path covered in leaves.
Settling into a moderate pace, you quickly became engulfed in the thick of trees, most of them bare in the December light. All thoughts of the case ceased to exist. Instead, your brain was focused on the hollowness in your chest that had been consuming you for weeks. Never before had you been so affected by the changing of the season, or the weight of everything you had been dealing with. All of it swirled in your brain like a tornado.
Maybe the boys had sensed something was wrong, because they took turns asking if you wanted hot chocolate or tea at the most random times. That never used to happen before, at least not unless they were asking you if you wanted coffee. Clearly, they thought you were over-caffeinating yourself. But you knew better than to spill your thoughts to them because they had enough to deal with on their own. They didn’t need all that extra crap.
The path turned right and dumped you out into an open area with a small lake covered in frost. A little gaggle of geese sat on the water’s edge, ducking below the surface occasionally for food. Reaching into your pocket, you realized you had left your phone in the motel room. For now, you would just have to settle for a mental picture. Pressing forward, you started into the next section of woods.
Wind whipped past you, sending a chill up your spine. While you had thrown on your jacket, you weren’t exactly dressed for a long trek outside. You walked a bit faster, hoping the exertion would help warm you up, because you weren’t ready to go back just yet.
Once again, you thought about everything from the past month. Stress, panic, loss, even a bit of uncertainty with how things would turn out. It bubbled back from where you had pushed it down, sending a few tears into the corners of your eyes. Next thing you knew, your chest tightened, and you were sobbing. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to calm yourself, your body releasing what it had been holding onto for so long. You came to a stop, hands pressed against your thighs as you fought to breathe through your tears.
Finally, the pain ebbed, and you lifted the cuff of your sweatshirt to wipe at your face and nose. As was usually the case, you felt better after your cry. You had found your rock bottom, and now you just had to start the upward climb. For now, that meant heading back to the motel and finding out what monster was causing all these issues.
When you got close enough that you could hear civilization again, you swore you heard your name on the wind. Between the trees you saw a car drive by a moment later, so you figured you had imagined it. You emerged at the edge of the road and saw Dean standing out in the parking lot. He was faced away from you, hands on his hips, and your stomach filled with butterflies like they always did at the sight of him. But you had to shove those down because nothing was ever going to happen between you two. Dean turned and as you locked eyes, he frantically called your name, surprising you. You jogged across the highway and met him on the asphalt.
“Dean, what…” You started, confused by the panic radiating off Dean.
Dean grabbed you by the arms, looking briefly across your body like he was checking for injuries, then pulled you to his chest.
“Are you okay? What happened?” His voice vibrated against your cheek.
“Dean, I went for a walk.” You leaned back, looking up at him with confusion.
“You just left me in the motel room and went for a walk without so much as a note?” Now Dean’s voice was brimming with frustration. “Jesus, I thought that you were kidnapped or something.”
“You fell asleep reading! I didn’t plan to go for a walk at first, I just…” You swallowed. This was not what you had expected to come back to. “I saw the woods and thought it might be nice to get some fresh air.”
“Then take your damn phone next time!” Dean barked. When you flinched, he sighed and licked his lips. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been real worried about you. And when I saw your phone was still here…”
“Like I said, didn’t think I was gonna be gone so long.” Despite the fact that you had just emptied your emotional bowl, you felt a tickle in your throat like you might start tearing up again. You hadn’t meant to worry anyone, let alone Dean.
“Have you been crying?” Dean asked suddenly, his voice dropping to a softer note. You were still within the confines of his arms and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you, like he thought you were gonna disappear again. Plus, you tended to get red and blotchy when you cried. Of course he was gonna notice.
“Kinda sorta,” you mumbled, looking down.
“Hey.” Dean placed his finger under your chin, tilting you back up to face him. He offered you a small smile. “I know it’s been a rough month. I wasn’t really sure how you were doing, but I didn’t think it was bad enough that you had to go cry in the woods. You can talk to me, ya know.”
“I thought you didn’t do chick flick moments.” Now your heart was starting to beat faster because Dean wasn’t moving his hand. You’d never stood this close for this long in all the time you’d known him.
“That’s only with Sam. Gotta act like the tough older brother. When it comes to you…” Dean swallowed.
“What about me?” You whispered. Your butterflies were in full swarm mode, but you had a feeling that you might not be alone. The air felt charged with something different, something purposeful.
Rock music crackled from Dean’s pocket, signaling a call. He frowned but didn’t move away immediately.
“That’s probably Sammy. I told him I couldn’t find you. I should let him know you’re okay.”
You nodded, shivering from lack of heat as soon as Dean stepped back to answer. Feeling awkward standing out in the middle of the parking lot and pretending to not want to listen to Dean’s conversation, you finished crossing the lot and went back into the motel room. Grabbing your phone, you saw a missed call from Sam and two from Dean, along with a few texts he must have sent before he realized he couldn’t reach you.
Where’d you go?
Are you okay?
If you don’t answer in two minutes, I’m calling Sam.
Warmth curled in your stomach as you sat on the mattress. Dean really had been worried, enough to get Sam involved.
“Yeah, I’ll tell her,” Dean said into the phone as he closed the motel door room behind him. You glanced up at him. “Sam says he has some info from the morgue, thinks this might be a werewolf. And he’s glad that you’re okay, says I was being over dramatic.”
“I think it’s sweet that you were concerned.” You smiled before locking your phone and setting it next to you on the bed.
“Yeah, I…” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Your phone was on vibrate and it took a bit for me to hear it.”
“Dean, you don’t have to explain.” You felt your face warm with embarrassment again. “I’m sorry I worried you. Next time I will leave a note and take my phone with me.” He nodded, satisfied with your answer, and began busying himself with cleaning up the small table at the front of the room covered in beer bottles and pizza boxes from the night before. “Hey, Dean?”
“Hmmm?”
“Earlier, you said that it was different with me. That we could have chick flick moments.” You scratched at your chin, suddenly itchy everywhere. Dean paused what he was doing and looked at you. “Why am I different?” The words came out too quiet, your heart stuttering in your chest.
“Well, I…you…” Dean was frozen, a half empty bottle in his hand. He looked like he wanted to drink it. “Girls are different, they need to talk about stuff.”
“Oh.”
Dean continued moving around the room, now avoiding your gaze pointedly. You weren’t sure what you had expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. Had you read this whole scenario wrong? Shifting back against the headboard, you opened your phone back up and started a game. Dean signed loudly, and when you looked up, he was rubbing his hand over his face.
“That was a shitty answer.” Dean grumbled. Abandoning the cleaning, Dean made his way across the room, his footsteps heavy, and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve done the whole hold it in and pretend it doesn’t exist. Hell, I did it last week. But that doesn’t mean it’s right, and I don’t want to see you do that to yourself. You’re too…”
Your stomach was doing cartwheels already, and then Dean set his hand on your knee, and it took everything in your power not to jump out of your skin.
“Too what?” You stammered.
“Too you. You’ve got a keen eye and a big heart. You’re important to us, so you gotta take care of yourself.”
Dean smiled before standing up and going back to what he had been doing. You felt your face grow warm, but this time it was from contentment. Who knew that Dean Winchester himself would be the one to promote self-care and land you a compliment in the same sentence? You were distracted enough to miss Dean pull a beer out of the mini fridge and take a long sip.
Summary: You struggle to help Dean work through his stress
Content: Dean x Reader, swearing, yelling, injuries, a bit of arguing, and some slight fluff at the end.
Note: This was written for the 5K Celebration Challenge for @zepskies! I entered under my main blog beakaleak32 and asked for a .gif to base a story on, and she gave me the one below (cuz she knows I'm a sucker for shower scenes haha). Congrats on all your amazing followers Alex! I hope you and everyone else enjoy the story!
You weren’t sure when you had lost track of how Dean was handling his stress. Maybe it was innocent, and you believed that he was managing things just fine. Dean also was a professional liar and had gotten good at hiding things. More likely was that things hadn’t been easy lately and you were focused on yourself. Whatever the reason, Dean was starting to scare you.
While you were on the hunt for a wickedly smart shapeshifter, you noticed Dean’s easily losing his temper over little things. At breakfast one morning he snapped at a waitress for serving crappy coffee. He was either bickering with Sam or pointedly ignoring him. You had even noticed he was slamming the doors of Baby a bit harder than he usually did. But it all came to a head when you were trying to get information from a witness.
“I said talk, dammit!” Dean roared, whipping a knife out of his pocket and holding it up against the young man’s neck.
Immediately, you realized where Dean’s head was at. Before you could open your mouth, Josh kicked out his foot in an attempt to sideswipe Dean. Caught off guard, Dean stumbled slightly but righted himself and quickly latched his hand onto Josh’s throat.
“Dean!” You yelled. It was pointless to try to pull Dean off, you knew he was stronger than you. Why had Sam decided to go back to the motel?
“You better knock that shit off or I’m running this blade through your throat.” Dean was inches away from the witness’s face, his voice low and gravelly.
“He’s not a shifter!” You cried in desperation. Dean threw a look over his shoulder at you.
“A what?” Josh gasped, meeting your gaze over the top of Dean’s head. Dean turned back to face Josh, his eyes narrowing for a moment, before releasing his grip. Josh inhaled deeply.
“You serious?” Dean muttered, walking a path around you while he gave Josh some room.
“I had to act fast, you were gonna hurt him!” You explained in a hushed whisper.
Dean didn’t reply, but you saw his jaw twitch before he stepped back in front of Josh. It seemed that mentioning the paranormal had helped loosen Josh’s tongue, because he was able to recall seeing his girlfriend in two different places within minutes of each other.
On the drive back to the motel, Dean was quiet. You had expected him to call you out or at the very least talk about the next steps. When you tried to ask him a question he responded by turning up the volume on the radio.
Great, that’s just great.
You’d seen this before, of course. Whenever you were half a step ahead of Dean or forced him to see his incorrect logic, he started to disengage. Call it a defense mechanism or a trait learned early in childhood, you still struggled with this aspect of his personality. Part of you wanted to shine a spotlight on it and make him see how unhealthy it was, and the other part knew that would just push him further away. But Dean had genuinely frightened you when he pulled the knife on Josh, and you couldn’t let that slide.
“Look, I’m sorry if you thought I was interfering, but that was not supposed to be an interrogation. He did not deserve to have a knife pulled on him.”
Dean barely hummed in response, his eyes on the road in front of him. And just like that, you were pissed. With a jab of your finger, the music stopped cold. Dean’s head pivoted.
“The hell?”
“Stop being a freaking child!” Your fists tightened around themselves, going white with the lack of blood.
“Oh, I’m being a child?” Dean spat back.
“Yes! You’re giving me the freaking silent treatment!” You felt like you were screaming in the confines of the car. Lowering your voice slightly, you continued. “Dean, what I’m trying to say is that you’re worrying me. And I want to be here for you, but you have to talk to me. You can’t just shut me out.”
“You’ve got nothing to be worried about, I’m fine.” Reaching out, Dean thumbed the stereo back on, and he continued driving in silence.
There wasn’t a chance to discuss it further as Sam had new information when you got back to the motel. With a solid lead, you all headed out to an old warehouse where you suspected the shapeshifter was holing up in between activities. Just when you thought that the lead was a bust, Sam found a small hiding space. As you started to investigate, the shifter appeared, and a brawl ensued.
Later, you would wonder what you had been thinking when you tried to surprise the shifter from behind. At the last second he spotted you and tossed you into a wall, your knee taking a big chunk of the impact and letting out a resounding crack. Dean yelled your name. Sam was closer and able to come over while Dean poured his fury into finishing the shifter off. He joined you as Sam helped you to your feet, your right leg holding your weight, and gripped your left side tightly to support your bad leg.
The drive back home was filled with a different kind of silence. You sat in the back with a makeshift ice pack over your knee while Dean shot random glances at you through the rearview mirror. Sam was researching knee injuries and asking you sporadic questions based off of his findings. You noticed him beginning to grit his teeth in the light of his phone, but you didn’t have the energy to ask how bad he thought this was.
In the fleeting hours of dawn, you arrived back at the bunker. Even though Dean utilized the garage so that you didn’t have to take the towering stairs, there were still small steps and uneven levels within the halls of your home. Apparently, the Men of Letters didn’t think about maneuvering around with injuries. As the corridors began to wind, making it difficult for Dean to immediately support your side, he swung you up into his arms and carried you the rest of the way to your room. You desperately wanted to protest that you could have made it, but it also felt nice to give your good leg a break.
“You probably want to shower?” Dean questioned after depositing you onto your bed. He knew that was generally your routine after a hunting trip. You nodded impishly, but he was already moving around the room collecting things you would need. After he set a pile down on the bed, he moved towards the door without you. “I’ll be right back, gotta grab my stuff.”
“Your stuff?”
“I’m not letting you shower alone.” His words came out with a little grit, like he was holding something back. You sighed, knowing there was no talking him out of it, and sat and waited for him to return.
After what felt like an hour of equal parts creative thinking and frustration, you were balancing on your foot under the shower spray with Dean hovering protectively behind you. He waited patiently while you soaped up and rinsed off and then let you stabilize yourself on his hands while you swapped positions. Dean seemed to fall into a rhythm and forget you were there for a moment, tilting his head back under the shower and letting the water fall over his face like it was washing away more than just grime. He ran his hands through his hair, sighing heavily. You felt your heart ache.
Reaching out, you set your hands on Dean’s shoulders. He immediately tensed up. Slowly, you used the water as a lubricant and dug your thumbs into his muscles. You expected Dean to move away from you and finish up, but he surprised you by lowering his head and letting you work out the knots along his neckline. When you found a tight spot by his shoulder blade, he let out a soft groan.
Even though your leg began to quake from overuse, you simply tried to shift onto your bad leg, not wanting to stop. When it became almost unbearable, you wrapped your arms around Dean’s waist and leaned into him to take some of your weight. Trying to hide your discomfort, you planted kisses along his shoulder and neck. His hand came up to cover yours.
“Do you need to sit?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at you. Of course he saw through your ruse.
“I don’t want to be done,” you said, avoiding the point he was trying to make, “this is nice.”
“You’re shaking,” Dean responded simply. He turned slowly, avoiding toppling you, and adjusted himself so that he was more supportive. Gently he placed a kiss at the crown of your head, a quiet thank you, and then he stood there and gazed into your eyes.
“Is this the part where you tell me I’m an idiot and to stop hurling myself into danger?” You quipped after a minute.
“Nah, I’m leaving that lecture for tomorrow.” Dean smirked. “Tonight, we talk about what you brought up in the car.”
You cocked your eyebrow. That was the last thing you had expected him to say.
“I hear what you’re saying. Life has been a shit show, and I’m probably not handling it well.”
“Probably?”
“Okay, smart ass.” Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not. But when I was watching you in the back seat, I remembered that time you had me talk to you through your panic attack. How having something to focus on helped pull you out. And I thought maybe…” Dean swallowed. “I could try to let you be my focal point.”
“I ain’t going anywhere, Winchester.” You pressed yourself closer to him as you answered. “Not emotionally, and definitely not physically anytime soon.” You both smiled. “I’m here, and I got you.”
Dean ducked down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, before he leaned his forehead against yours. It might seem small, but you knew this was actually a big step for Dean. You were ready to help him find himself again, even if it was ugly. Because that’s what you did for people that you loved.
