Not Good Sir, True

‘No, Dean,’ Sam said irritably.

‘Alright, okay,’ Dean said, raising his hands defensively, ‘so what is it?’

‘I don’t know. I just think we don’t…tessellate,’ Sam admitted, glad his hair covered his ears because he was sure they had tinged red.

‘Tessellate?’ Dean frowned, ‘what the hell does that mean? Like the sex is bad?’

‘No,’ Sam said quickly, sitting up and shifting awkwardly, ‘I just feel like she’s holding back.’

‘You mean she’s not…’ Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘No, she is,’ Sam said quickly, though Dean’s scepticism made him falter, ‘at least, I think she is.’

‘Unless…she's faking,’ Dean countered.

‘Who’s faking?’ you asked as you appeared at the table next to them, sliding into the booth and stealing a handful of fries off of Dean’s plate. He glared at you and you grinned, throwing them in your mouth before he could stop you.

‘No one,’ Sam said quickly.

‘Faking what?’ you pressed.

‘It’s nothing!’ Sam huffed.

‘Ohhh,’ you nodded, ‘faking.’

Dean snorted over a bite of his burger.

‘She’s not faking,’ Sam said irritably.

‘And how do you know?’ you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

‘I know,’ Sam said firmly, ‘I can tell.’

‘Hmm, I wouldn’t bet on it,’ you shrugged.

‘Wait,’ Sam said, sitting up, now thoroughly intrigued, ‘have you?’

‘Of course,’ you said, as though it was obvious.

‘Really?’ Dean asked, finally looking away from his food to face you.

‘Sometimes,’ you shrugged.

‘And the guy never knows?’ Sam asked.

‘No,’ you said. Dean snorted again.

‘What?’ you asked.

‘How can he not know?’ he said incredulously.

‘Dean I lie for a living,’ you countered. Dean mulled it over and shrugged, grabbing his coffee as he quipped, ‘true. But let’s be honest, those frat boys you pick aren't exactly deep thinkers. Put a couple of beers in 'em and they’d believe anything.’

You watched as the pair of them laughed. Sam’s less obvious, Dean’s smug over the top of his coffee cup. You turned to look directly at Dean in the booth, your eyes narrowing until his laughter died down and he looked back at you, an eyebrow quirked.

‘You didn’t.’

‘What?’ Dean asked, still smiling though it looked a touch shakier.

‘You didn’t know.’

‘Heh,’ he said, his face falling as realisation dawned, ‘wait, you’re saying…’

You grinned.

And Sam started shifting in his chair, looking anywhere but across the booth as he tried to catch the eye of a passing waitress for another drink or the bill or anything that would get him away from Dean’s inevitable defences against his bruised ego.

‘With me?’ Dean asked incredulously. You picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, a sharp smile tugging on your lips, ‘you faked with me?’

‘Yeah,’ you shrugged.

‘You faked with me,’ he said flatly.

‘Yeah,’ you said.

‘No.’

‘’Fraid so,’ you said.

‘You faked it?’ he said,

‘I faked it,’ you confirmed.

Dean looked at you in utter disbelief, then settled back against the vinyl booth, the thought dawning across his face as he clearly rattled through every memory of the two of you together.

‘So that…the whole thing, the whole production,’ he asked, pivoting his entire body in the booth to face you, ‘it was all an act?’

‘Not bad, huh?’ you teased.

‘But what about the breathing? The panting? The moaning,’ he demanded, his voice dropping low, ‘what about the ‘oh god Dean?’.

‘Fake, fake, fake, fake,’ you countered.

‘How?! I’m good,’ he said firmly.

‘Sure you are,’ Sam muttered, a sharp, amused smirk breaking across his face.

Dean sat back, completely stunned, staring at you in absolute disbelief. But then, a desperate curiosity settled into his eyes.

‘How many times?’ he asked, eyes narrowed.

‘Not a lot. We were young back then,’ you shrugged, reaching over to pat him condescendingly on the cheek, ‘I’m sure you figured it out.’

‘I don’t need to figure it out,’ he grunted, folding his arms across his chest, ‘you’re the one-’

‘Yes?’ you asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘I don’t know,’ he huffed, ‘defective or something.’

‘Okay, I’m gonna,’ Sam said grabbing his jacket as he stood up out the booth, locking onto a waitress a second later so he could get away from the inevitable explosion.

‘Defective?’ you baulked, ignoring Sam, your eyes locked on Dean who was not looking at you and instead aggressively stabbing at his fries.

‘Yeah,’ he said.

‘Uh, it worked with every other guy I’ve been with,’ you reasoned.

‘Yeah, and I’ve seen the calibre of them,’ he muttered.

‘Like you can talk,’ you snorted.

‘Hey, not accounting for you, I’m batting a thousand,’ he replied defensively.

‘Keep telling yourself that, hotshot,’ you said, sliding up out of the booth.

And then you swiped another handful of fries from his plate and strutted off, leaving him alone to drown in his bruised ego.

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

You wished you hadn’t opened your mouth. That the words had never fallen from your lips. You should have known Dean wouldn’t let it go. That his ego and pride wouldn’t let him let it drop, which he hadn’t for the last few days. The pair of you had been bickering nonstop, making Sam look like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. It was why he’d sent you both out on a food run while he tried to concentrate on lore.

And that was how you’d come to be in the backseat of the Impala, legs splayed on either side of Dean’s thighs, helpless moans the only things falling from your lips as he worked you open.

‘Dean,’ you whimpered, gushing again as he curled his fingers against that spot inside you that made your vision blur. His thumb worked your clit ruthlessly, his mouth hot and wet against your neck as you started to clench around his hand. Another peak was already gathering speed. Your fourth one in the last hour.

‘Dean, please,’ you breathed, your fingers gripping the short spikes of his hair.

‘What’s that, sweetheart?’ he asked. The smug grin was entirely evident in his voice, even though you couldn’t see his face.

‘Need another,’ you panted.

‘You gonna take it back?’ he said, his tongue probing against the hollow of your neck.

‘No,’ you whispered defiantly. Dean pulled his hand back and slapped his palm flat against your dripping pussy, the sudden friction sending a sharp jolt straight to your core.

‘Dean,’ you whimpered, arching against him.

‘Now, I’m gonna ask again,’ he said, his voice dropping low and dangerous, ‘you gonna take it back?’

‘Are you gonna admit I’m not defective?’ you panted.

‘Oh sweetheart, I think we’ve well and truly established you’re fully functional,’ he mused, pressing his lips against your pulse point as he pushed his fingers back in, his thumb tracing slow against your clit.

‘Oh god, Dean,’ you whimpered turning your face into his shoulder.

‘C’mon princess, just say it and I’ll give you what you want,’ he promised, his fingers curling deeper, hitting the spot perfectly until you were trembling.

‘You’re batting a thousand,’ you whispered.

‘What was that? Didn’t quite catch it’ he asked smugly.

‘You’re batting a fucking thousand, okay?’ you grunted, your hips moving desperately against his hand, ‘now please.’

‘I got you, baby.’

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

supernatural/dean tags

It had been Dean’s idea of course, but Jo had been immediately game, and Sam had just rolled his eyes which wasn’t a no. And after some cajoling, you’d agreed too. One because it meant you’d be able to slow your roll and try and negate tomorrow's inevitable hangover and two because Dean had already started baiting you for not being a good sport and you were unfortunately stubborn enough for that to work.

So, there you were, at least six questions deep each. Sam was two drinks ahead of everyone because he’d refused to kiss a sleeping Ash or mess with the papers in the office for fear of Ellen’s wrath when she woke up. Jo was one down because during her loud and very out of tune rendition of You Give Love a Bad Name, Dean had caught that she’d messed up some of the lyrics and dubbed her attempt as null and void. And you and Dean were shooting straight. No missed truths. No dares back down from. You could feel your head becoming clearer already as morning crept in.

‘Your turn,’ Sam choked out, forcing attention your way to get it off himself given that he was still gagging from the concoction of whiskey, hot sauce, powdered coffee creamer, and lemon juice that Dean had just made him drink.

'Okay truth,' you said, grinning as Sam retched again, aggressively sinking another half a bottle of beer to clear the wreckage from his gullet. Dean grinned and leaned his arms on the table, a spark in his green eyes.

'Do you want this one?' Dean asked, offering the question to Jo.

'Why have you run out of things you wanna know about me?’ you teased, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him sitting next to you.

‘Sweetheart I already know everything about you,’ Dean teased back, his voice smooth and entirely confident.

‘Yeah right,' you baulked.

'Uh we work and live together. It's kinda hard not to,' he said as though it was obvious.

'So do me and Sam,' you countered, throwing Sam a smile. He offered one back, though it was weak and his eyes were still watering from the retching.

'Eh, I got you to myself when he was at college being responsible,' Dean countered, smirking at Sam’s plight. Though how 'responsible' Sam could be dubbed when it had only taken two rounds of a chicken noise from Dean for him to chug the liquid down his neck, you couldn’t say.

'So?' you reasoned. 

'So, those are formative years. Formative embarrassing years,' Dean said.

'True,' you sighed. Because you supposed he was right. You and Sam were as close as can be, but Dean had always been your first friend, your best friend. It was kind of hard not to be when you lived in one another’s pockets. Not that you weren’t friends with Sam because you were, but it felt different somehow. With Dean the history was loud and bright, like a firework, burned up quickly and settled into something easy and comfortable. You and Sam felt like a piece of coal buried deep in the ashes of something chugging along mounting and growing warmer with every day that had passed since he’d started hunting with the pair of you again.

'Ooh I know,' Jo said excitably, eyeing Dean with something devious in her face, 'this is your official question.' 

'Hit me,' you said, taking a sip of your drink.

'Stupidest thing you've ever done,' she said.

'Ugh really?' you groaned.

'That bad, huh?' she giggled.

'No, I just don't know what to pick,' you said, the long list of bad decisions and stupid choices practically a mile wide. 

'Living with Dean means there's a lot to choose from,' Sam quipped, making you grin and Dean roll his eyes. You thought about it for a second, trying to go through everything you’d ever done.

'Ooh, what about that bartender in Tampa?' Dean volunteered.

'No,' you said. He was bad sure, but you were certain there was worse.

'The tattoo?' Sam asked.

'I like my tattoo,' you pouted, 'it's cute.' 

'It looks like a dolphin,' Dean scoffed, explaining to Jo right after, 'it's supposedly a dog.' 

'He's cute!’ you said, swatting him on the arm, ‘besides I've done worse drunk.’

'Like?' Sam asked.

'I almost got married,' you admitted, the words coming out without thinking.

The air turned electric in a second. Jo sat bolt upright, her eyes wide and excited and Sam stilled, minutely, but enough that you noticed.

'No way!' Jo squealed.

'Yeah,' you said, the weight of Sam’s gaze on your face suddenly making it feel hot. You didn’t dare look at him, you just kept your eyes fixed on Jo, wondering why you’d even brought it up.

'How? Where? When? Who?' Jo asked, all questions fired in quick succession. 

'Uh, drunk, Vegas, the week of my twenty-first birthday,’ you said. Then you sighed, letting your gaze trail to your left to Dean who was sitting beside you with the biggest, shit eating grin you’d ever seen on his face. When Jo’s jaw dropped you blushed.

'Shut up!' she shouted.

‘It’s true,’ Dean confirmed.

'Seriously?' she asked, still reeling, ‘you two?’

'It was her idea,' Dean said, taking a sip of his drink.

'No, it wasn't!' you scoffed, looking at him incredulously. Dean looked at you.

'Uh, you're the one who said it would be funny to get married by an Elvis impersonator.’

'Yeah, and you suggested it was with each other,' you said, the memory of the night coming back to you in a flash, the way it had been pieced together over the years from broken black out memories and awkward conversations the next day. You looked towards Jo to explain, 'we thought it would be a funny bit. You know, like we work together but we confuse everyone by being like ‘oh my ex-husband.'

'My late wife,' Dean added with a chuckle.

'First wife,' you corrected, bumping your shoulder against his, 'I'm not dead.'

'You're serious?' Sam said. He hadn’t said much since you’d brought it up, but you could feel him watching you, quietly calculating like he always did. Holding back and only asking questions that would get him whatever conclusion he was building to.

'Yeah,' you said, watching his face but his eyes just stayed unreadable.

'So why didn't you?' Jo asked, snatching your attention and leaning forward like this was the best time she’d had all night.

'She barfed in the chapel and they kicked us out,' Dean said, oblivious to the way Sam was watching you both. You forced yourself to ignore it too.

'In my defence, who puts a cream carpet anywhere in Vegas,' you said, your laugh soft enough that it was swallowed by Dean and Jo’s and she giggled, ‘true!’

'Still got a wedding night though,' Dean winked at her.

'Ew, after barfing?' Jo asked, her nose wrinkled.

'I'm a trooper what can I say,' Dean shrugged.

'You got lucky,' you shot back, rolling your eyes.

'Can say that again,' Dean said with a wink.

'Okay that,’ you said, pointing at him, ‘that is officially the stupidest thing I've ever done,' 

'Hey!' Dean said, holding his heart in mock offence.

'You two slept together?' Sam said. But his voice was too quiet, completely stripping the humour from the table.

'Yeah, I mean we were hammered...I barely remember it,' you said, feeling like you needed to caveat it though you didn’t know why. Especially since Dean was too lost in bragging to feel the judgement rolling his way from across the table.

'I do,' he said, 'and your other tattoo is worse than the dog.' 

'Shut up!' you said, rolling your eyes.

'You know I don't know how you two do it,’ Jo said, snapping the two of you from your regularly scheduled bickering.

‘What do you mean?’ you asked.

'You know, the casual thing. Friends with benefits,’ she said.

‘We are not friends with benefits,’ you said quickly, the words coming out instantly. Because it was true. You and Dean had crossed that line once, realised it was weird and finally brushed off the tension mounted between you as something of the past. Something that was supposed to be a funny story, hence why you’d dared mention it.

‘Yeah, it was a one off,’ Dean added.

‘Yeah but…’ she said like she was dwelling on it, ‘I mean you live together…’

'It's not a big deal,' you said quickly because the mood had shifted. Jo was watching you both curiously. Dean seemed to be contemplating it like he’d never considered the very short-lived fling the two of you had had was strange in any way because let’s face it your lives were weird as it was. And Sam was just watching you. His eyes were dark, his back rigid and his voice quiet as he challenged, ‘isn’t it?’

You wanted to answer him. To tell him that of course it wasn’t a big deal, that these things happened. You supposed you could’ve made the point that the two of you had been in the exact same situation, but you figured Jo’s head might just explode with that news and it didn’t feel right because what you and Sam had had wasn’t comparable. Because that had meant something.

Unfortunately, Dean spoke first.

'No, of course it isn't,' he said, laughing like the question was absurd, bravado cloaking his words still as he tried to ease the tension, 'I mean, is it unfathomable how you didn't fall head over heels in love with me? Sure-'

'Oh, bite me,' you said, arguing back without thinking.

'You askin' sweetheart?' Dean challenged cockily, leaning his arm on the back of your chair. Usually, you would have shot back with a sarcastic comment, but with Sam sitting right there, looking like he’d just been punched in the gut, it felt entirely wrong. So you just huffed and pushed him away, an action that confused him since your usual back and forth was never normally an issue. Dean tensed, his brow furrowing for the smallest second as your eyes flitted to Sam who was now busy with his beer bottle. Recognition seemed to bless his features for a beat before he pulled back.

'Your turn,' you said, your throat feeling unusually dry.

‘Dare,’ Dean said.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, immensely grateful that you were finally done with truths for the night, even as Sam’s heavy silence seemed to fill the entire room.

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

The case wasn’t going well. You had absolutely no leads, no witnesses, and not a single clue as to what you were actually hunting. Every single avenue you went down turned out to be a dead end, and you couldn’t find anything that made it feel worthwhile to keep digging.

It didn’t help that you and Sam had fallen out. Or rather, Sam had fallen out with both you and Dean. He claimed he hadn’t of course. He spoke to you both as cordially as he could manage, mostly about the case, but when it came to speaking to you properly his effort was lacking. You’d tried to talk to him about what had happened at the Roadhouse, but he’d shot you down instantly. He’d told you it was none of his business what you and Dean got up to and that was it. Dean had even offered to talk to him but since he’d told you he was just going to ‘ask him what had crawled up his ass,’ you had declined, telling him it was probably best to just leave Sam alone until he felt like talking.

But you kept trying.

You made him coffee the way he liked it. You shot Dean down when he was being a dick. You had even taken the couch in the motel room. He hadn’t spoken most of the ride so you’d hoped your offer would’ve sparked something in him like it normally did, where you said you’d take it and he told you that it was fine he’d have it, contorting his gargantuan frame onto whatever tiny lumpy thing they the motel provided. But this time you’d offered and he’d said nothing. And Dean had sensed offering to share with him like you normally would wasn’t on the cards either and had kept his mouth shut. 

Still nothing. He just stayed quiet. Refusing to speak about anything with legs. The ease that the pair of you had managed to build up since he’d been back on the road collapsing like a house of cards around you.

You tried to ignore it, to pretend like it wasn’t gnawing away deep in your chest, but it was getting harder to do so. You’d been in the library for nearly an hour, and he hadn’t spoken to you once. He’d just handed you his laptop, mumbled something about finding some textbooks, and disappeared off into the aisles. Dean had left you alone shortly after, given that he’d received a call and the librarian reigning over the tiny town library had glared at him until he took the thing outside. You were still perusing through death records when he reappeared, your focus on the screen until he came up and perched himself on the desk beside you.

‘Hey,’ you said quietly, looking up from the array of gruesome murder of a Lily Tibbet you’d just been reading about. Dean looked thoughtful, ‘what was it?’

‘You remember that girl, Hayley?’ he said, causing your mind to flit back to the girl you’d interviewed yesterday alongside her boyfriend. Dead ends, both of them.

‘Yeah,’ you said.

‘Well turns out she does remember something from the day Lauren went missing,’ Dean said, his voice low, ‘said she’d only talk about it face to face.’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’  you said, finally feeling a spark of hope in you. If you could get this case moving, you could get it over and done with. Without something to focus on, Sam might actually have to speak to you about something other than slit throats and gruesome disembowelments.

‘Yeah. Maybe we’ll finally start getting some movement on this thing,’ Dean said, looking down at you, his gaze cast on the computer and the books scattered around you. Then it lingered on Sam’s empty chair for a second before he caught your eye and said, ‘so, what do you think?’

‘What do you mean?’ you frowned.

‘Well, she wants to talk. How about we all head over there now and see what she has to say?’ he said.

‘Yeah okay,’ you nodded, quickly shutting the laptop though you hesitated when you realised you couldn’t exactly just leave it there.

‘Pack this up, won’t you?’ you asked, gesturing to the swath of stuff in front of you as you grabbed your jacket and hauled it on, ‘I’m gonna go find Sam.’  

'Yeah, sure,’ Dean nodded.

‘I won’t not be long,' you said.

You left Dean amongst the books, the librarian’s hushed tones travelling down the aisle with you as she scolded him again, this time for sitting on the table. Sam was at the back of the library when you found him, bent down by a dusty old shelf as he perused through the thick leather-bound books in front of him, cross referencing with the scrap of paper in his hands. He looked your way when you approached, shoes thumping softly along the carpet tiles, but when he saw it was you, he immediately looked back to the books. You felt your heart sink.

'Hey,' you said quietly.

'Hey,' he muttered, his eyes not wavering from the shelf, 'what's up?' 

'We've got a lead. Me and Dean are gonna go chase it if you wanna come,' you asked, your voice hopeful. He looked up then watching you closely for a long and silent minute before he turned back and muttered, ‘no thanks.’

'Are you sure?' you asked quickly.

'Do you need me to?' he asked, plucking a book from the shelf and tucking it under his arm. He stood up then, coming closer and towering above you, looking down as his eyes roved over your face.

'No, I just thought you might wanna get out from behind the books,' you said, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

'I'm fine,' he said. 

'Are you sure? Because-'

'I'm sure you two will do just fine on your own,' he said darkly before he pushed past you and walked to the end of the aisle. He hesitated for a split second, looking over you one last time before he said, 'you should go. He's probably moaning about waiting anyway.'

You didn’t follow him back to the table, instead you just headed outside. Dean met you out there, offering you your bag which you’d forgotten about. Your mind still full of Sam.

It was like that until about halfway through the drive. Dean didn’t seem to notice you were in your head. He just cranked up his music, fingers tapping to the beat along his steering wheel. It was a habit of his you always noticed. Mainly because it wasn’t always on beat but also because the ferocity of which he air-guitared or drummed often made you worry he was going to steer off the road. But you never said anything about it since there wasn't a lot the three of you found joy in.

He only stopped when you were about halfway across town, turning the music down which pulled you out of your thoughts for the first time. The sudden, knowing look he gave you made you instantly self-conscious, and very aware that he’d probably been talking to you while you gave him half-hearted ‘mmms’ and ‘uh-huhs.’

'What?' you asked when you realised he was watching you.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ you replied.

'Yeah right, I'm pouring my heart out here and you're barely listening,' he said.

'Sorry,’ you sighed, picking at a frayed thread on your jeans, ‘it's just...do you think Sam's pissed at me?'

'Why do you think that?' Dean asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

'I don't know,' you lied, 'he just feels like he is.'

'Maybe it's the case,' he offered.

'Maybe...' you murmured, that familiar ache tightening in your stomach, 'but it felt like that before the case even started. You haven't noticed?'  

'What, him bitching at me? Can't say it's any different from any other day,' Dean said.

You glared at him for being mean and he rolled his eyes. But then he went quiet, deliberating for a second before he asked, 'when did you say from?' 

'I don't know like before the case…the Roadhouse maybe,’ you said though there was no maybe about it.

'Huh,' Dean muttered.

'What?' you asked.

'Nothin',' Dean lied.

'Dean.’

'He's jealous,' he said simply.

'Jealous of what?' you asked. Dean just gave you a pointed look, pulling another heavy sigh from your lips.

‘What?’ he asked, feigning innocence. Baiting you like he always loved to do, ‘don’t tell me that there’s nothing between you two.’

'Yeah, like a million years ago,' you said. The two of you had had this conversation before. When you’d still been trying to work out what exactly was going on between the pair of you and you’d had to come clean about the thing that had derailed your growing love for him in the first place.

'History’s history,' Dean shrugged.

'We have history,' you challenged like the two were in any way comparable.

'Yeah, but we weren't…we were just stupid,' Dean said, determined not to let you use him as an excuse for not doing anything about this continuing thing that lingered between you and his brother. Because you were in love with Sam. He’d always known there was something between you even if he hadn’t known the extent until all your mistakes were made. But he wasn’t going to let himself get in the way of you and his brother. Even if the pair of you seemed content with ignoring the obvious.

'He ended it remember,' you said, throwing out yet another one of your excuses.

‘Yeah, because it wasn't right back then. You said that yourself. And if I'd have known at the time...' he said.

'Never gonna let that go, are you?' you sighed. Dean just grinned.

‘He could’ve made a move,’ you reasoned, like you had so many times to yourself, ‘if he was interested, he could’ve done something about it. I mean, it's not like it's coming out of nowhere. We could pick up where we left off.'

'A lot has changed since then. He might not know how,' Dean said.

'Last time I checked everything pretty much works the same,' you shot back.

'You know what I mean. You're not sixteen anymore. We work together, live together,’ he reasoned, his voice dropping softer and more serious, ‘... and after Jess.’ 

A pang of guilt cut through your chest. Of course, how could you be so stupid.

Dean carried on anyway.

‘I’m just saying think about it. It’s been three days. Why would he care this much?’

'Because he's right. It's weird. Normal people don't live with guys they hook up with,' you said.

'Brothers too,' Dean added unhelpfully.

'Don't make it worse,' you groaned. Dean chuckled.

'Look, it's not that. Sam doesn't care about who I'm hooking up with. And he's watched me fuck up with a million girls so why would he care about this?’ Dean reasoned, ‘not to mention anything else that gets to him you can always talk him down from. He cares about this because it’s us. Because it’s you and that means something to him.’

‘So why not just say that?’ you huffed.

‘Why haven’t you told him you love him?’ Dean retorted.

Anything you were going to say stopped short in your throat. Because he’d only ever danced around it before. After you had told him about what had happened between the two of you, he’d made fun of you of course. But then he’d watched, he’d seen the thing growing between you and Sam since he’d been on the road with you and had realised that it wasn’t one-sided. You’d kept putting him off, scoffing and rolling your eyes with every suggestive joke or knowing look he’d thrown your way when Sam wasn’t looking, but he’d never been so outright with it. It made you miss Sam who built up to things instead of just declaring them outright.

‘Like I said,’ Dean smirked, ‘I’m not stupid.’

‘Whatever. Let’s just get this case over with,’ you grunted, turning your attention back to the road.

‘Fine,’ Dean chuckled, reaching to turn up the dial on the stereo, ‘but if he caves you owe me twenty bucks.’

─────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─────────

You made it through the case. Just barely, mind you. It was a shifter, grubby and gruesome and wearing your face when you’d killed it which was never a fun experience. But having to put six bullets in your chest had softened Sam. A little. So had you telling Dean you were going to stay behind instead of going to the bar to celebrate a job well done.

You pretended not to notice that bit. Pretended that you didn’t feel buoyed that he was finally speaking to you after nearly a week of the cold shoulder. You pretended your heart didn’t quicken when your hands brushed against one another as you reached for the same piece of pizza. You tried not to let your stomach knot when he suggested the two of you watched a movie, sharing the same couch, because what did it matter? You’d done it a million times before.

You were just happy you were doing it again. You didn’t dare let yourself think of Dean’s words. You could deal with all of that another time. You just wanted him back as your friend. That was enough.

Or it would’ve been.

'Who's that?' Sam asked as you came back through from the bathroom, now changed into your pyjamas and phone in hand as you walked back to the couch.

'Dean. He said don't wait up so it looks like I've got an upgrade from the couch tonight,' you said, slinging it onto the table in front of you.

'Hm,' was all he said. Then he stood up, grabbing your empty boxes and bottles and headed to the tiny kitchenette, ignoring you.

'Sam?'

'Mm?' he said, still not looking back.

'Can we talk?' you asked. You watched his shoulders go rigid, his hands hesitating as he placed the boxes in the trash can though he didn’t look around. You moved closer.

‘Did I do something?' you asked, finally stepping into his path to stop him from moving.

'What?' he said. Stalling, you were sure.

'Did I do something to piss you off?' you asked.

'No,' he lied, trying to brush past you.

'Really? Because it doesn't feel like it,' you said following right behind him.

'It's nothing,' he dismissed.

'Actually nothing, or you're just not gonna make a deal of it?' you challenged.

He stopped then, turning around to look at you, his jaw tightening to hold in whatever it was he wanted to say.

'So there is something,' you said, 'is it the case? Did I do something wrong?'

'No,' he said tightly.

'Is it...is it what we said at the Roadhouse? About me and Dean? Because it's really not a big deal-’

'Not a big deal?' Sam said incredulously, 'you almost got married!'

'As a joke!'

'What happened to knock-knock?' he said scathingly.

'You know your brother always takes it to extremes,' you said, trying to keep your voice light to diffuse the tension. Sam rolled his tongue across his teeth and clenched his jaw tighter. You sighed.

'Sam, it didn’t mean anything,' you said quietly.

'Except it does though, doesn’t it?’ he scoffed, shaking his head, ‘because you're in love with him.’

'No, I'm not!'

'Aren’t you?' he challenged, stepping closer.

'No!' you said, your jaw tightening when he just looked at you, ‘no!’

'Why don’t I believe that?' he scoffed.

'Me and Dean are just friends,’ you said firmly, folding your arms across your chest, ‘and it happened like a million years ago.’

'Like me and you, you mean?' he said. You hated arguing with Sam. With Dean you had at least a chance with, but he could tie you up in knots. He watched, he calculated, and threw stuff you didn’t even realise he knew back at you. So, you hit back with the only thing you had left.

'Yeah. Except I never loved Dean the way I love you.’ 

Whatever Sam had been going to say died in an instant, the words catching on his tongue. And you just looked at him, chest heaving from how fast your heart was racing but you didn’t stop. You didn’t take it back, you refused to.  

'Do you know how stupid I felt? That I mixed up being Dean's best friend for being in love with him? We hooked up and I realised, we both realised, that we'd been so fucking stupid thinking there was anything there. And then I felt so guilty about it I told him about you and me because I'd loved you that summer and fucked it up being all stupid over Dean-'

Your words died as Sam kissed you, hard and fast until there was no air left in your lungs. It took your body a second to catch up, and by the time he pulled back slightly, he had you pinned against the dresser, your chest heaving and your eyes wide as you looked up at him.

‘Sam,’ was all you could say, your ranting dying as your thoughts left your head. Sam pulled you closer, his hand dancing along your jaw, his eyes dark. You could feel his breath, taste beer and pizza. You could feel the heat of his body against yours. A sudden throb between your legs which deepened as he chuckled, low and electric. But he didn’t reply. Without a word he just moved his hands down to your ass and hauled you up onto the top of the dresser. He kissed you again, his large hands holding your face in place before his mouth slid down to your jaw, nipping and kissing along your neck.

'What was it?' he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

'What?' you breathed, your head swimming.

'Why didn’t you like Dean?’ he said, his hand going up under your shirt and accruing a moan from your lips as his thumb rolled over your nipple.

‘Answer me,’ he said.

'He's…Dean,’ you gasped, trying to focus as he sucked harder on your collar bone, ‘he's my friend.’

'So? I'm your friend,' he reasoned,

'You're different.’

'How?' he pressed. He pulled back then looking at you, his eyes almost completely black instead of the soft hazel you were used to. It made your core ache.

'You're...soft,’ you said, though the hands that pushed your knees further apart were anything but.

‘Gentle,’ you added, watching as he gripped the waistband of your pyjama shorts and hauled them down. The fabric caught slightly, but he pulled it free, tossing them onto the floor. He stepped closer, his hands gliding slowly up your bare thighs until they rested on your hips. You watched his thumb move, teasing through your wetness as he looked up at you.

‘You care,’ you said, shivering as he traced over your clit.

'Dean cares,' Sam countered.

'Not like you,' you said.

'Yeah?' he smirked, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes, 'wanna see how much?'

You had barely let out the slightest of nods before he was burying his face in your pussy. He lapped at you, working every inch of you, thick fingers burying quickly inside you with hardly any resistance because you were so wet. His other hand held you open, stopping you from closing your thighs around his head when he sucked on your clit hard enough for you to see stars.

‘Jesus Sam,’ you said, tugging on his hair when his finger curled against that soft spot inside you earning you a grunt of approval that only vibrated against you.

'God, I missed you,' he said, pulling back a little. The sight of him was lewd, messed hair, black eyes and soaking chin as he scissored you open with his fingers, your wetness glistening over his hand, ‘so fuckin wet for me.’

'Always,' you promised breathlessly.

'Yeah? Been getting you all hot?' he teased, thumb rolling across your clit again.

'Yeah,' you admitted, hand bracing against his shoulder as you felt your climax coming.

'Since when?' he asked.

'Sam,' you pleaded.

'Since when?' Sam insisted, his fingers stilling inside you until you answered.

'Since we started hunting together,' you panted. Sam grinned. A fucking menace, like always.

'Good,' he said and then he pulled you forward, throwing your legs up around his shoulders and ate you like you were his last meal on death row.

‘Sam,’ you whimpered, your pussy clenching around him as another wave of pleasure rippled you. Sam didn't let up, his tongue working ruthlessly against your clit.

'Sam, fuck Sam,' you said as you came, your cunt spasming around his fingers and growing sensitive as he continued to fuck you through it until you were floppy and spent.

But he didn’t stop. He just stood, pulling you with him, your shirt and his discarded with quickly as you held onto him pathetically trying to keep yourself upright.

You let him kiss you, all tongue and teeth as he guided you toward the bed. You sank down onto the mattress, finding yourself eye-level with the rigid outline of him straining against his denim. You reached for him immediately, fingers fumbling eagerly with his buttons until you’d pulled his jeans and boxers far enough down for you to get him out.

You wrapped your hand around him, you mouth-watering at the sight of him, just as thick and long as you remembered and already weeping pre-cum as you pumped him gently. But Sam reached down, his hand cupping your cheek and tilting your face up. His thumb lightly tugged on your bottom lip as he said, ‘turn around.’

You didn’t think twice. You just nodded and clambered onto your knees on the bed. You heard the drop of denim hit the floor, the creak of the springs as he climbed on the bed behind you, nudging your legs open more to accommodate him.  

You looked back over your shoulder, taking in the sight of him fisting his spit slickened cock before he teased his head through your wetness, nudging against your sensitive clit again.

‘Sam,’ you whined hungrily.

'Don't remember you being this needy,' he mused, watching your pussy flutter as he nudged against your entrance.

'Don't remember you being this mean,’ you countered.

‘Ask nicely then,’ he said, raising an eyebrow in challenge. You glared at him, but your body betrayed you as he pressed a little deeper.

‘Fuck, Sam please,’ you said.

He slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one deep, smooth stroke that stole the air straight from your lungs. He didn’t wait, immediately pulling back to drag against your sensitive walls before driving home again.

‘Fuck,’ he grunted, ‘God, I missed this.’

‘Sam,’ you moaned, your back arching as you pressed yourself into the mattress to take him deeper, his balls bouncing against your clit as he moved quicker, his fingers gripping your hips deep enough you were sure they were going to leave bruises. 

You didn’t care. You’d take a hundred hickeys and a thousand bruises just for some proof he was finally yours again. That what had happened all those years ago hadn’t just been in your head. And this certainly wasn’t. There was no shy and restrained Sam here. There was no worry or slow. Sam was everywhere, in every breath and every space. And you were his.

‘Missed this perfect pussy,’ Sam grunted, his pace quickening, ‘best I ever had you know that?’

‘Only ever wanted you,’ you gasped.

‘Yeah?’ he groaned, ‘this is mine huh?’

‘All yours,’ you promised, face burying into the comforter.

‘Good,’ Sam said, but you could tell he was getting closer, his rhythm quickening and his voice more strangled as he asked, ‘you need me to pull out or are you-’

‘Still good,’ you choked out.

‘Good,’ he whispered, leaning forward until his mouth was near your ear, his arms wrapping around you, ‘because I wasn’t going to.’

And then he rolled you both over. You lay splayed on top of him as he continued to fuck up into you, his fingers easily finding your clit again.

‘Sam,’ you whimpered, your fingers locking around his wrist as your body clenched around his cock in a second, blinding orgasm.

‘Fuck,’ Sam grunted just as he came, thick ropes spilling inside you until he slipped out, glazing your pussy and thighs. He let you lay on him for a moment, his lips brushing tenderly against your neck until the mess between your thighs wasn’t ignorable anymore.

‘Stay here,’ he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he softly decanted you onto the bed before he disappeared in search of something to clean you up. He reappeared a moment later, boxers now pulled back on before he cleaned gently between your legs and helped you get back into your pyjamas. Then he sat against the headboard and let you climb into his lap.

You kissed him again, deep and slow.

‘Hi,’ you said when you finally pulled back, your thumb tracing along his jaw.

'Hi,' he said, a soft, slightly shy smile touched his lips, making you giggle. Like he hadn’t just flung you about like it was nothing.

'That was different,' you commented.

'Yeah,' he breathed. You faltered when he didn’t smile like you had expected. You felt your heart sink.

'Sam what is it?' you asked hesitantly.

‘Did you mean it?’ he asked, looking at you with uncertainty behind his eyes.

‘Mean what?’ you asked.

‘When you said you loved me. All this time?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ you said, your thumb tracing his cheekbone, ‘I did.’

'And Dean?'

'We're friends,' you said simply.

'You almost married him,' he replied, his voice dropping.

'We almost stood in front of an Elvis impersonator there's a difference,' you countered. Sam went quiet and you felt your chest tighten, 'Sam, I love Dean. He's my best friend, but I'm not in love with him, never have been. Not really.’

When he didn’t say anything, you felt your worry grow deeper. Because you had hoped that this meant something, that issues of the past could be forgotten for something new. Something good.

‘Is that an issue?' you asked, hoping it wouldn’t be.

'It's just, I don't see how this is different,' you said.

'It is,' you promised.

'Why? We're all so close and he loved you-'

'Dean loved the idea of me, not me. Besides, you think if I wanted to be with him we wouldn’t just go for it? I mean when does he ever think about consequences or be shy for that matter?' you challenged. Sam didn’t say anything, he just looked down, playing with the drawstring on your shorts but you captured his chin and forced him to look at you, ‘isn’t it a little unrealistic to expect us never to have had relationships or love before?'

Sam softened a little at that, the memory of Jessica burning on that ceiling up flashing behind his eyes. He supposed you had a point. He had loved Jess and it had still felt different to the thing that sat between you two.

‘And how I felt about Dean, is nothing compared to how I feel about you,’ you promised.

‘Yeah?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ you said.

'Good because I feel the same,' he promised, ‘kinda always have.’

'Why didn’t you say anything?' you frowned.

'I didn’t know how... after Jess, liking someone again felt wrong,' he said, offering you an apologetic smile, 'and then we were just living together and I was worried about ruining things.'

'That’s what Dean said,' you offered softly.

'You talked to him?’ Sam asked. You nodded.

'He told me I should just tell you how I felt,' you murmured.

'He did?' Sam asked, his heart thudding a little quicker as all the things he’d convinced himself of disappeared.

'I told you he's my best friend. He loves us both and he just wants us to be happy.’

'Are you?' he asked softly, 'happy?'

'I don’t know. Are you gonna be my boyfriend again?' you said, a smirk growing on your lips.

'If you'll have me,' he said, pulling you closer.             

'Then yeah, I'm very happy,' you smiled.

You leant in and kissed him, soft and tender before you pulled back, your arms wrapping around his neck as you said. 'oh, by the way.'

‘Yeah?’ he hummed, his mouth already moving against your neck.

‘Dean called this, so we owe him twenty dollars,’ you said. Sam stopped, letting out a long, suffering sigh as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

‘What can I say?’ you teased, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, ‘told you he knows us both well.’

‘Unbelievable,’ Sam muttered, though you could feel the quiet vibration of his chuckle against your skin. He tightened his arms around you, pulling you a little closer, ‘we're never going to hear the end of this, you know that right? He's going to be so smug.’

‘Oh, I’m sure we can find a way to wipe the smile off his face,’ you mused. Sam lifted his head, a genuine, relaxed grin finally breaking across his face.

‘Sounds good to me.’

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

@caitlin1996 @greenery-stings @elisabethturner1919 @amara-liu @samwchsgf @robynn9436-blog @deantallicas @mrs-cactus69 @iloveneilperry @mari-1917 @angelbysea @ghostoftimeandbugs @peggyofoz @feralzombae @parakissss @agentroye @hit-me-with-a-ladle

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authors note: so this is the end! i orignally planned for reader to end up with neither, for both of them to be martyrs because lets face it thats the requirement of being a winchester but the response to this has blown me away that i had to choose. and when i say choose i mean pick both of them ofc.

It had been Dean’s idea of course, but Jo had been immediately game and Sam had just rolled his eyes which wasn’t a no. You’d agreed of course. One because it meant you’d be able to slow your roll and try and negate tomorrow's inevitable hangover and two because Dean had asked with that stupid, goofy grin he gave you whenever he thought of an idea he thought was clever. And you could never say no to that.

So there you were, at least six questions deep each. Sam was two drinks ahead of everyone because he’d refused to kiss a sleeping Ash or mess with the papers in the office for fear of Ellen’s wrath when she woke up. Jo was one down because during her loud and very out of tune rendition of You Give Love a Bad Name, Dean had caught that she’d messed up some of the lyrics and dubbed her attempt as null and void. And you and Dean were shooting straight. No missed truths. No dares back down from. You could feel your head becoming clearer already as morning crept in.

‘Your turn,’ Sam choked out, forcing attention your way to get it off himself given that he was still gagging from the concoction of whiskey, hot sauce, powdered coffee creamer, and lemon juice that Dean had just made him drink.

‘Okay truth,’ you said, grinning as Sam wretched again, aggressively sinking another half a bottle of beer to clear the wreckage from his gullet. Dean grinned and leaned his arms on the table, a spark in his green eyes.

‘You want this one?’ Dean asked, looking at Jo for a second.

‘Why? Have you run out of things you wanna know about me?’ you teased, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him sitting next to you.

‘Sweetheart I already know everything about you,’ Dean teased back, his voice smooth and entirely confident.

‘Is that right?’ you asked, rolling your eyes.

‘Damn straight,’ Dean said, a touch of defensiveness running through him.

‘Oh yeah, what do you know?’ you giggled.

‘What don’t I know?’ he scoffed.

‘Okay, first pet?’ you challenged, entirely forgetting the game.

‘A dog called Bruno. You kept him at Bobby’s because your dad wouldn’t have a dog on the road,’ Dean said without missing a beat, his grin growing smug when you faltered a little bit.

‘That one’s easy,’ Sam countered from across the table, his voice still a little raspy, ‘I could’ve told you that.’

‘Okay then, let’s try something harder,’ Jo chimed in, thinking for a moment before she sat up excitedly, ‘first time you got grounded.’

‘That’s not-’

‘Me, you, and Sammy got caught hotwiring one of the cars Bobby was working on and driving it into town ‘cause you wanted milkshakes,’ Dean said. You sighed and Jo offered you an apologetic look.

‘Next question,’ Dean said firmly.

‘Ooh I know!’ Jo said excitably, eyeing the boys with something devious in her face, ‘this one’s your official question. They’ll never be able to guess it. Are you ready?’

‘Yeah, go on,’ you grinned, wondering what she had planned.

‘First time? Age and person,’ she said firmly.

You felt the smile on your face freeze instantly. Sam coughed from his side of the table though you were sure it wasn’t from the so-called shapeshifter shot as Dean had dubbed it. And Dean faltered, like he ran through the data in his head and found the story coming up empty, then his face turned bemused and interested as he looked at you and said, ‘well?’

‘Well, what?’ you said, shrinking back into your chair.

‘Oh, come. You’re not gonna refuse to answer, are you?’ he teased, nudging your knee with his own.

‘It’s a stupid question,’ you said.

‘Hey!’ Jo protested.

‘Yeah, what does it matter?’ Sam said from beside you. You didn’t dare let your eyes flit that way.

‘So? It’s her question,’ Dean said firmly, ‘you gotta answer or you gotta…’

He pushed another shot of tequila towards you. You eyed it and then looked at him before you huffed, ‘can’t you just pick another one?’

‘No way,’ Jo protested, ‘there’s nothing wrong with that question. I stand by it.’

‘It was like a million years ago,’ you said defensively.

‘You remembered the dog,’ Dean countered, suddenly intrigued as you got squirrely, ‘oh come on, what’s the big deal? It’s hardly gonna shock us. A quick fumble in the back of a car? Some spotty kid at your senior prom? I promise I won’t call the papers.’

‘So? It’s private,’ you said bitterly.

‘So was Jo sleeping with that guy twice her age, but we still got that out of her,’ Dean countered with a laugh.

‘Thank you!’ Jo said smugly.

‘You want mine?’ Dean asked, barrelling through before you could say no, ‘Stacey Dubeke, tenth grade out in Ohio. Hot but stiff as a board.’

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ you huffed, picking up your drink for something to do.

‘Oh, come on, why are you making such a big deal out of this?’ Dean said.

‘I’m not,’ you said hotly.

‘You are,’ Dean countered, ‘Jo, tell yours.’

‘Kevin Johnson twelfth grade,’ she obliged easily, ‘senior prom.’

‘See,’ Dean said pointing at her with a grin, ‘I mean, I’d get Sam to tell you his but we’re still holding out hope it’ll happen one day right, Sammy?’

‘Hilarious Dean,’ Sam said scathingly. You finally risked a glance his way and then quickly looked away, an overwhelming rush of memories flooding your brain.

‘Okay, no name. At least tell us how old you were,’ Jo bargained, trying to relieve some of the mounting tension, ‘eighteen? Older?’

You said absolutely nothing.

‘Okay so younger,’ Dean concluded, like your face was answering for you.

‘Guys just leave her alone,’ Sam sighed.

‘No way, she’s not playing fair,’ Dean countered.

‘Fine! I was sixteen, okay!’ you huffed, slamming your drink down and resting back against your chair petulantly, ‘can we just drop it now?’

‘Sixteen…’ Dean said, like he was sifting through a lifetime of memories to get to it. Past dogs and milkshake runs, ‘oh yeah, I remember that. The year you started dressing like a girl. Wait, that was for a guy?’

‘That had nothing to do with-’ you started though you realised if you protested you might have to start going deeper into it and that was something you didn’t want so you just dismissed, ‘yeah okay whatever.’

‘But you started in the summer. You didn’t have a boyfriend that summer,’ Dean said. You looked at Sam who caught your panicked gaze.

‘Sixteens a whole year Dean,’ he said sarcastically, his voice tight as he tried to help, ‘anyway she answered. It’s your turn.’

‘Yeah, truth or dare,’ you said quickly. But your focus should’ve been on Jo whose eyes darted between your stricken face and Sam’s rigid posture.

‘Oh my god,’ Jo gasped.

‘What?’ you said panicked.

‘It was Sam!’

‘What?’ you breathed.

‘Yeah what?’ Dean said, looking at her confused.

‘You lost your virginity to Sam!’ she said excitably.

‘Yeah right,’ Dean scoffed. But then he looked at you, the glance you shared, the one that settled anywhere but each other and his face. You picked at your cuticles and Sam drank his beer. And Dean’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Because he remembered that summer. He remembered having the wind knocked out of him when he'd rocked up and found you weren't some kid anymore. He remembered weeks of fighting. He remembered how you and Sam became friends. Really good friends. 

He remembered how he'd pushed it from his mind. How when he finally saw you again, twenty and wanting to hit the road with him, Sam was a painful memory he didn't talk about and neither did you. 

‘Is that…did,’ Dean faltered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register, ‘is it true?’

You finally relented to look at him, guilt like you’d only ever felt that summer swimming inside you as you shrugged, ‘does it matter?’

‘So it is,’ he said looking angrily towards Sam who just stared at him in defiance.

‘Like she said, it was a million years ago,’ Sam shrugged.

‘Yeah, but I remember that summer,’ he said, ‘I remember working an awful case just so you two could… what? Knock boots?’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ you sighed.

‘Besides what do you care?’ Sam challenged.

‘I don’t,’ Dean said, far too angry for that sentiment to ring true, ‘I just think you should’ve told me.’

‘Do you tell me about every girl you’ve ever banged?’ Sam countered.

‘Sam!’ you snapped.

‘What? I’m just saying,’ he said.

‘Yeah, but it wasn’t like that and you know it,’ you argued.

‘Oh, so you two were what a couple?’ Dean asked, snapping your gaze back is way.

‘No!’ you huffed.

‘Yes,’ Sam said at the same time.

It fell quiet then, Sam sank back into his chair and folded his arms. Dean leaned back too, taking another drink though his jaw was so tight you could see a muscle twitch beneath the skin in the low lighting. You rubbed your eyes wearily, wishing the floorboards would simply swallow you whole.

When no one spoke, Jo offered a quiet and awkward, ‘wow, okay… awkward.’

Again, no one answered her.

‘Alright, well… I think that’s probably enough for tonight,’ she said, standing up and awkwardly starting to clear stuff away. Sam rose too, muttering a strained, ‘let me help you,’ as he gathered empty beer bottles and chip packets from the table.

You looked at him and he offered a small apologetic smile that you returned as he headed towards the back of the bar after Jo.

Then you finally looked at Dean. He wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was tight and his knuckles white around his beer bottle.

‘Dean,’ you whispered softly, finally forcing this green gaze your way, ‘it’s not a big deal.’

‘Yeah?’ he asked, ‘then why didn’t you ever tell me?’

And before you could even attempt to find the words to answer him, Dean slammed his chair back, stood up, and stormed straight out the back door of the Roadhouse, leaving you sitting entirely alone in the dark.

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The case wasn’t going well. You had absolutely no leads, no witnesses, and not a single clue as to what you were actually hunting. Every single avenue you went down turned out to be a dead end, and you couldn’t find anything that made it feel worthwhile to keep digging.

It didn’t help that you and Dean had fallen out. Or rather, Dean had fallen out with both you and Sam. He claimed he hadn’t of course. He spoke to you both as cordially as he could manage, mostly about the case, but when it came to speaking to you properly his effort was lacking. You’d tried to talk to him about what had happened at the Roadhouse, but he’d shot you down instantly. He’d told you it was none of his business what you and Sam got up to and that was it. Sam had even tried to talk to him too, but from what you could tell that conversation had been a lot more shouty and had left the motel a lot more tense for the entire afternoon following.

After that whatever he did mostly revolved around being alone. Ironically it felt a lot like that summer you two had been together given that a fight with Dean had been the catalyst for the whole debacle in the first place. But you were trying at least.

You made him coffee the way he liked it. You let him pick every tape or radio station in the car without any push back. You had even taken the couch in the motel room. Sam had protested but you’d shot him down and told him it was fine, fearing him taking the fall or worse offering to share like you and Dean did most of the time was just asking for more trouble.

Still nothing. Barely a hint of a smile. Only now it was starting to wear thin.

Dean had just finished up a call outside since the librarian reigning over the tiny town library had glared at him the moment he’d opened up his phone. You were still perusing through Sam’s laptop, your focus on the screen until he came up and perched himself on the desk beside you.

‘Hey,’ you said quietly, looking up from the array of death records you’d been combing through, ‘what was it?’

‘You remember that girl, Hayley?’ he said, causing your mind to flit back to the girl you’d interviewed yesterday alongside her boyfriend. Dead ends both of them.

‘Yeah,’ you said.

‘Well turns out she does remember something from the day Lauren went missing,’ Dean said, his voice low, ‘said she’d only talk about it face to face.’

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ you said, trying to offer an encouraging smile.

‘Yeah. Maybe we’ll finally start getting some movement on this thing,’ Dean said, looking down at you, his gaze cast on the computer and the books scattered around you. Then it lingered on Sam’s empty chair for a second before he caught your eye and said, ‘so what do you say?’

‘What do you mean?’ you frowned.

‘Well, she wants to talk. How about me and you head over there now and see what she has to say?’ he said. You tried not to let yourself show how giddy you felt at the offer. The first part of the case he’d actually seemed to want to include you in since you’d landed in town.

‘Yeah okay,’ you nodded, quickly shutting the laptop though you hesitated when you realised you couldn’t exactly just leave it there.

‘What?’ Dean said, his brow furrowing.

‘We should probably wait for Sam. Can’t leave his laptop unattended,’ you explained but Dean didn’t agree. His face just fell into a scowl, something that seemed permanently etched on his features these days as he huffed and slid off the desk.

‘You know what? Forget it. I’ll just go on my own,’ he muttered.

‘Dean,’ you started, rising slightly, but he refused to look back at you.

‘You stay here keep working. And uh, get your boyfriend to call if you find anything interesting,’ he said sarcastically and then he strutted outside leaving you to sink back into your chair.

Sam appeared back at the table not long after that, his arms stacked high with books that he might need or want to peruse which was something you’d found about him since you’d started hunting together. He’d always been a reader, but he liked going through lore even when it didn’t pertain to a case, a habit which you found odd but never said anything about since there wasn't a lot the three of you found joy in.

‘Where’s Dean?’ he asked when he sat down, noticing the other chair was empty.

‘Gone chasing a lead,’ you sighed, rubbing your temples and trying to keep your attention on the screen. But you could feel his eyes on you, and you became hesitant as you looked at him and asked, ‘what?’

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ you replied, when Sam realised an eyebrow, you sighed, ‘he’s still pissed.’

‘Still?’

‘Yep,’ you huffed, your mouth popping around the p ‘I don’t know how the hell we’re gonna work this damn case with him like this.’

‘We don't. He just needs to get over it,’ Sam said tersely, opening his first book.

‘You got any bright ideas on how to make that happen?’ you challenged, Sam said nothing, ‘I mean I’ve tried speaking to him, but he won’t listen. You spoke to him-’

‘Well, we argued,’ Sam corrected.

‘Even so it didn’t work,’ you grumbled. You knew you should’ve turned your attention back to the screen and kept working but you could feel yourself becoming irritated at the thought and just nudged the mouse pad for a second to seem busy. Sam didn’t seem to notice.

‘He just doesn’t want to listen to himself,’ he muttered, eyes already on his next page as his finger traced along the ancient paper.

‘What does that mean?’ you frowned.

‘I mean, I know why he’s pissed about it,’ Sam said, looking over at you pointedly, ‘you do too.’

 ‘Sam,’ you sighed, rubbing your face wearily.

‘What?’ he asked, feigning innocence like the menace he was, ‘don’t tell me that there’s nothing between you two.’

‘Right,’ you huffed. But he didn’t accept the retort to his delusions. He just kept looking at you in that look that made your cheeks flame and you feel like a liar, ‘there’s not!’

‘Why not?’ Sam asked casually.

‘Because…’ you didn’t answer because you couldn’t.

Because you didn’t know why. Because you were in love with Dean Winchester and had been for most of your life. I was clear to you. It was clear to his brother too. Hell, you were sure everyone knew about it only Dean had never made a move on you. And you knew why. He didn’t feel the same way, no matter what anyone else convinced themselves of.

‘It's not true? Or because you've never let it get that far?’ Sam asked, ‘just because it’s never happened before doesn’t mean there’s nothing between you.’

‘He could’ve made a move,’ you reasoned, like you had so many times to yourself, ‘if he was interested, he could’ve done something about it. Sam, we’ve had nearly five years on the road together and Dean’s hardly shy, is he?

‘Yeah, but you’ve been friends longer than that and you know what he’s like when it comes to the people he cares about. And you’re just about the only person outside of family that he actually does,’ Sam countered smoothly. He definitely had a lawyer’s brain. He should’ve kept up with that, gone back to school once the demon was dead. Somewhere where the two of you wouldn’t be stuck having this conversation and you wouldn’t have to talk about your painfully obvious infatuation with your best friend.

‘Sam,’ was all you could offer, your voice tight.

‘And he’s felt that way forever,’ Sam said, placing his hand on the top of yours, ‘I told you there was a reason I ended it between us that summer.’

You remembered that conversation. It was back in the early days of Sam being back on the road with you two. Dean had gone to a bar, and you and Sam had opted to stay behind, mainly because you were concerned about the nightmares that he’d been having nightly about Jess.

When he’d inevitably woken not long after falling asleep, you’d offered him a beer and the pair of you had sat and talked. He’d been more honest than you’d anticipated; in fact, he’d told you all about her. And your heart had broken for him. Not for him because there was anything lingering between you but for him because he’d had true love and it had been so cruelly ripped away from him. Somehow, the conversation had turned to that summer and the pair of you had walked through it with fondness and no hard feelings. Until he’d hit you with the reason he’d ended it.

Because Dean was in love with you.

You’d scoffed at the idea, but he’d been firm and it had been that way ever since. You and Dean were constantly watched by his hawk-eyed little brother who noticed every lingering look and every kind gesture and banked them away to offer to you with a knowing look every time. Only there was nothing to know. You and Dean talked about stuff. He was direct, always had been. If there was something he felt, you were entirely sure he’d just tell you.

‘Nah,’ you said, trying to divert the attention from the heavy weight that sat on your shoulders, ‘you just wanted to show off at your new school with all those tricks I’d taught you.’

‘Oh yeah, I was a regular old Casanova,’ Sam snorted but then he got quiet again, looking at you with that sympathetic look that made your heart ache, ‘I’m just saying think about it. It’s been three days. Why would he care this much?’

‘We lied to him,’ you reasoned, trying to ignore that small bloom of hope in your stomach that always came from these conversations with Sam.

‘So? He’d be over that in a minute. We’ve lied to him before, about worse than some teenage fling,’ he said, you shrugged in agreement.

‘And you can always talk him around with everything else,’ Sam added, ‘he cares about this because it’s us. Because it’s you and that means something to him.’

‘So why not just say that?’ you huffed.

‘Why haven’t you told him you love him?’ Sam retorted.

Anything you were going to say stopped short in your throat. Because he’d only ever danced around it before. He hinted that you cared for one another that there might be something more to the friendship the pair of you lived in, but he’d never been so outright with it. It made you miss that shy boy who kept everything behind curious hazel eyes.

‘Like I said,’ Sam smirked, ‘I’m not stupid.’

‘Whatever. Let’s just get this case over with,’ you grunted, turning your attention back to the screen which only served to make him grin.

‘Fine,’ Sam chuckled, turning back to his book, ‘but if he caves you owe me twenty bucks.’

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You made it through the case. Just barely, mind you. It was a shifter, grubby and gruesome and wearing your face when you’d killed it which was never a fun experience. But having to put six bullets in your chest had softened Dean. A little. So had Sam opting to stay behind at the motel when you talked about going to a bar to finish the case up right.

You pretended not to notice that bit. Pretended that you didn’t feel buoyed that he was finally speaking to you after nearly a week of the cold shoulder. You pretended your heart didn’t quicken when he leaned over and made a joke about the girl at the other end of the bar fawning over a businessman who wasn’t giving her the time of day. You tried not to let your stomach knot when he threw his arm up on the back of your chair, because what did that matter? He’d done it a million times before.

You were just happy he was doing it again. You didn’t dare let yourself think of Sam’s words. You could deal with all of that another time. You just wanted him back as your friend. That was enough.

Or it would’ve been.

You’d finally finished up and were waiting outside while Dean used the restroom and paid the tab.

‘Hey,’ he said, appearing beside you and snapping your attention from your phone.

‘Hey,’ you said, smiling up at him and slipping it in your jacket pocket.

‘Who was that?’ Dean asked, nodding his head towards your now concealed phone.

‘Oh, just Sam. He wanted to know when we’re gonna be back,’ you said casually though as the words left your mouth you saw Dean’s jaw tighten, his eyes going dark as he muttered bitterly, ‘yeah, well, don’t worry. You’ll be reunited soon enough.’

Then he took off, striding towards the other side of the parking lot where his precious baby was sitting. It should’ve knocked the wind out of your sails. Should’ve made you sad and hurt. But all it did was stoke a fire in you, like a lit match thrown on a puddle of gasoline. You stormed after him, getting in front of him before he could get to the door, your arms folded across your chest,

‘Okay I'm done,’ you decreed.

'Come again?' Dean scoffed.

'You heard me. I'm done with this. With the sulking and the bitching,' you explained. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, refusing to look at you as he pouted, 'see this is what I'm talking about! If you've got a problem with me just tell me.'

'I don't have a problem with you sweetheart,' he said, his look scathing.

'So why won't you talk to me?' you challenged. Dean rolled his tongue across his teeth and clenched his jaw tighter. You sighed.

‘Look you're pissed about Sam and me, I get it but it's not a big deal,’ you started.

'Oh, it's not?' he spat.

'No!' 

'And you just get to decide that do you?'  he challenged, moving closer so he was looking down on you. Towering over you like he always did. You just stood taller, straightening up and glaring defiantly.

'Yes.’

‘Oh really?’ he scoffed, ‘because last I checked you weren’t the only one in this family. We live and work together, and if you two are messing around-’

‘We are not messing around!’ you interrupted, ‘nothing is going on between me and Sam.’

Dean looked away, shaking his head irritably but you didn’t stop.

‘And what did happen was a million years ago,’ you said.

‘Yeah, until something happens and you two hook up again,’ he said, his voice dropping low, his eyes menacing as he looked at you.

‘That’s not going to happen,’ you said firmly.

‘Why the hell not?’ he spat.

‘Because I’m in love with you, you fucking idiot!’

Whatever Dean had been going to say died in an instant, the words catching on his tongue. And you just looked at him, chest heaving from how fast your heart was racing but you didn’t stop. You didn’t take it back, you refused to.

‘You want to know why me and Sam even had a fling in the first place? Because I was in love with you and you didn’t give me the time of day. Sam did. Was it stupid? Yes. Does it make things awkward? Maybe. But me and Sam are not in love with one another. It’s a thing of the past for both of us. In fact, he’s so convinced that me and you are supposed to-‘

Your words died as Dean kissed you, hard and fast until there was no air left in your lungs. It took your body a minute to catch up, and by the time he pulled back he had you pinned against the Impala, chest heaving and eyes wide as you looked up at him.

‘You kissed me,’ was all you could say, finally speechless.

‘You wouldn’t shut up,’ Dean said, a smirk tugging at his lips. You thumped his chest but he caught your arm and pulled you closer, pressing your body flush against his as his nose brushed against yours. You could feel his breath, taste beer and whiskey. You could feel the heat of his body against yours. A sudden throb between your legs as he chuckled, low and electric.

‘What did he say?’ he said.

‘What?’ you breathed, lost in the way he was watching you try to form a coherent thought.

‘Sam, what did he say about us?’ he asked.

‘Oh,’ you breathed, a smile tugging at your lips, ‘that we’re stupid.’

‘Mmm?’ Dean asked, grazing his lips against yours.

‘That there’s something between us,’ you said, your breath hitching as his lips dragged down across your jaw.

‘That right?’ he hummed against the bone.

‘That he’d bet twenty dollars that you love me,’ you whispered.

Dean pulled back slightly at that, his expression turning serious. He reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead, his fingers ghosting down your cheek.

‘Sweetheart,’ he murmured softly, ‘you have no idea.’

After that everything became a blur, enough that you didn’t remember much of it. You remembered his lips, the ferocity of which they moved against yours and then slid down your neck. You remembered the bench seat of the Impala hitting the back of your knees and the glint in Dean’s eyes as you slid back and allowed him to chase you. You vaguely registered your phone clattering out of your jacket pocket somewhere into the footwell but that thought left when hand went under your shirt, his groan humming against your throat when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

You only came too when Dean pulled back, yanking his shirt off over his head. You stopped to watch him, your hands roving down the sharp planes of his chest in awe.

‘Like what you see sweetheart?’ he teased. You refused to blush. You probably would’ve years ago but you knew him too well to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you just reached out and grabbed him by the belt, forcing him to steady himself as he fell almost flush against you.

‘Yeah, I do,’ you said, pulling him in to kiss you deeply. When he pulled back his eyes were almost black, pupils blown with lust. He attacked your mouth again, his lips everywhere they could get. He pushed your shirt off, barely letting you yank it up over your head as he continued south, lips dragging along every inch of bare flesh, his hand rubbing against the seam on your jeans hard enough that any longer and you were sure you would soak right through. But he made short work of them, buttons yanked open and denim hefted down your thighs and thrown somewhere into the front seat. He settled between your legs then, watching you as you pushed yourself up to watch him.

You watched as he pressed a kiss to your thigh, then the other before he reached up and trailed a finger along the soaked material separating you two.

‘Well would you look at that,’ he said, his breath warm against your clothed pussy, ‘this what arguing with me does to you sweetheart? Or is this just from lookin’ at me?’

‘You know, arrogance is a turn off,’ you said, though there was nothing in your voice that hinted you agreed with that statement.

‘Not arrogance if it’s met with facts,’ he countered.

‘Yeah?’ you challenged, biting your lip as he pressed against your clit through the damp lace.

‘Damn straight,’ he said.

‘Well then, you better get to educating me huh?’ you challenged. Dean smirked and then your panties were gone, the sound of lace ripping in half echoing through the car.

‘Dean!’ you chastised but any force behind it was gone as he buried his face in your pussy. The sound of it was lewd, your wetness already gathering in around his chin as he licked, kissed, and sucked. He was everywhere at once, tongue buried in you, nose against your clit, one hand working against your tits as you bucked up off the leather. You didn’t even have anything to grab onto as the seat didn’t have enough purchase which only forced you to tug in his hair, the grunt of approval it got humming against you.

‘Fucking hell Dean,’ you breathed. Dean chuckled.

‘You like that?’ he asked, pulling back just enough for you to see the glint of his eyes and the sheen of you on his chin. He teased a finger through the mess, nudging inside gently which made you clench around him hungrily.

‘Needy little thing, isn’t it?’ he teased.

‘Been needing you for years,’ you panted as another wave of pleasure rippled through you when a second finger joined the first, curling against the spot that made you gasp and arch your back.

‘Yeah?’ Dean murmured. You nodded.

‘C’mere,’ you breathed. Dean shifted until he was hovering over you, fingers still buried to the hilt as you grabbed his face and kissed him. It was a mess of tongue and teeth, your moans intermingled as he fucked his fingers into you, thumb working dangerously against your clit.

‘Dean,’ you whimpered as your pussy began to clench around him.

‘That’s it sweetheart,’ he said encouragingly, capturing your lips again as you came apart underneath him, your moans lost to his mouth.

As it ebbed you felt floppy, lying against the bench seat as Dean pulled back. He discarded his jeans and boxers in a few rushed movements before settling back over you. He smiled down at you, brushing his lips against yours.

‘Hi,’ he murmured.

‘Hi,’ you giggled, your hand dancing across his cheek.

‘Ready?’ he asked. You nodded. You felt his weight settle, his hand reaching down and teasing his cock through the mess you made until he could slide in uninterrupted. You watched his face as he eased into you, his brow furrowed as he focused on where you met until you turned his face towards you. He rested there for a minute, thick and full inside you, buried to the hilt and yet not enough. Never enough.

Because you had imagined this so many times. How it would happen, how you’d finally get the nerve to tell him. You’d expected hot and passionate. Confessions in the rain and throwing one another against flimsy motel walls but it was none of that. It was slow and enshrouding. Dean was everywhere, in every breath and every space around you. The world narrowed until it was just you two, like it always was.

You pulled him down to kiss you, and it shifted his hips, pulling a groan from deep in his chest. He began to move, his length dragging agonizingly slowly against your sensitive walls before he pushed back down, hitting the perfect angle every single time.

Another orgasm hit you without warning, Dean’s pelvis pressing against your oversensitive clit and pulling another peak from surprising you both. You clenched around him, gushing on his cock and he groaned, his hips moving faster as he chased to follow. You felt his arm go behind your head, cushioning you from the ferocity of his hips as his fucked you.

‘God Dean,’ you breathed, your fingers tangling in the hairs at the nape of his neck.

‘Sweetheart,’ he grunted, his voice strained, ‘I ain’t gonna be able to pull out.’

‘I know,’ you said, only just realising the pair of you had been too lost in the moment to think about it, ‘it’s okay.’

‘Yeah?’ he asked, pausing, looking down to search your eyes. To be absolutely sure.

‘Yeah, I’m here,’ you reassured.

‘Baby,’ he said, his words strangled.

‘Come on. Cum for me,’ you said. And then he was, filling you up with a grunt and a groan. He fell against you, face hidden in your neck as you held him close, still buried inside you. You didn’t care. You’d waited long enough that you’d stay like this forever.

When he pulled back he watched you, his eyes now more green than black.

‘Hey,’ he murmured.

‘Hi,’ you said, giggling as he kissed you. Then he pulled out and set himself the task of finding something to clean you up which given you practically lived in this thing wasn’t too hard. Then you both got redressed, though that was mostly because the two of you had realised that you were still in the bar parking lot after you heard the noise of some drunk guys stumble out, thankfully oblivious to the pair of you. When you pulled your shirt on you found him watching you.

‘What?’ you asked, untucking your hair from the collar.

‘Nothing,’ he shrugged. You eyed him and then crawled across the seat, straddling his hips. Dean’s hands found your waist with ease.

‘All that and the great Dean Winchester has nothing to say?’ you teased, though you faltered when he didn’t smirk. You felt your heart sink, ‘Dean, what is it?’

‘Did you mean it?’ he asked, looking at you with a cloud of disbelief behind his eyes.

‘Mean what?’ you asked.

‘When you said you loved me. All this time?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ you said, your thumb tracing his cheekbone, ‘I used to think it was just a crush. That it’d go away with time or-’

‘Sam,’ he said, his jaw tightening.

‘We were kids, Dean,’ you said warningly, ‘do you think if I wanted to be with Sam that we wouldn’t have just started back up again?’

Dean didn’t say anything, he just looked down and played with the hem of your t-shirt. You sighed and tilted his chin up towards you, ‘Sam had his love. Real love. And it ain’t me.’

Dean softened a little at that, the memory of Jessica burning on that ceiling up flashing behind his eyes.

‘And how I felt about Sam, is nothing compared to how I feel about you,’ you promised.

‘Yeah?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ you said. He deliberated on it for a second and then nodded.

‘Good,’ he said but he didn’t elaborate.

‘Good?’ you asked.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said, hesitating when your brow furrowed, ‘what?’

‘I pour my damn heart out, and all you’ve got to say is good?’ you teased. Dean rolled his eyes.

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ you sighed dramatically, ‘I get it. You’re too cool for chick flick moments I get it, it’s just-’

The air left your lungs as Dean threw you down onto the bench, your wrists pinned above your head and his body pressed to yours, a chuckle leaving him as your breath hitched.

‘You are the biggest pain in my ass, you know that?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I know,’ you grinned, ‘and?’

‘And,’ he said, pressing a kiss to your lips, ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ you grinned. Dean released your pinned hands but you kept him close, kissing him quick again as you added, ‘oh by the way?’

‘Yeah?’ he hummed, his mouth already moving against your neck.

‘We owe Sam twenty dollars,’ you said. Dean groaned against you.

‘Son of a bitch.’

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

@caitlin1996 @greenery-stings @elisabethturner1919 @amara-liu @samwchsgf @robynn9436-blog @deantallicas @mrs-cactus69 @iloveneilperry @mari-1917 @angelbysea @ghostoftimeandbugs @peggyofoz @feralzombae @parakissss @agentroye @hit-me-with-a-ladle

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authors note: so this is the end! i orignally planned for reader to end up with neither, for both of them to be martyrs because lets face it thats the requirement of being a winchester but the response to this has blown me away that i had to choose. and when i say choose i mean pick both of them ofc.

Sure, it was easy to fall in love with a guy like him. He was soft and gentle. He had a calming steadiness no matter the situation. Not to mention, he was really fucking hot. Naturally at just sixteen he still had a hint of youth, mostly when he smiled, and his limbs were a bit too long and face a touch softer it ought to be but undeniably a man now. And still beautiful regardless.

Easy to fall in love with. Only, he hadn’t loved you back, not in the way that you had wanted him too. He didn’t see you like that. To him, you were something fun for the summer, something loved and lost with planned precision just so no one got hurt. Not attached, that was the phrase he’d used. Like his brother in that way.

Although, as you lay there watching the ceiling waiting until it was an acceptable time to crawl out of bed and head downstairs, you realised that might have been the reason. You’d thought he’d gotten over whatever suspicions and doubts he had about Dean. You’d thought your deliberate vagueness had been enough to convince him that there was absolutely nothing going on between you two, even if it weren’t quite as clear cut as that.

The truth was you didn’t know how you felt about Dean. The initial infatuation seemed to have changed,  shifting from a bright fire to a low ember, stoked when he did things like yesterday on the porch.

But even then, you didn’t know how he felt about you.

You did know one thing with absolute certainty, though: if Dean had found out about you and Sam, there was no way he’d do anything about whatever sat between you.

He wouldn’t do that to Sam. And you couldn’t do that to Sam, either.

Even now it was officially over.

Hell, maybe it was a good thing you weren’t likely to see either of them until next summer. You hoped of course that they’d find their way back to South Dakota at some point, but you knew realistically that the lifestyle wouldn’t allow for it. No matter how much you desperately wanted to believe that Dean would fight to come back for you, you knew the reality of the job. If anything, Sam would have been the one to fight for you. Or, at least, he would have before this morning.

You heard Bobby get up first and you let him go downstairs, providing a buffer should the boys be up when you got downstairs. Then you dragged yourself out of bed. You took a shower, did your hair, and applied a light dab of makeup, fully aware that you were just stalling for time. When you finally heard movement in the kitchen below, you headed down to face them, bracing yourself against the restlessness in your heart and the deep, hollow ache in your gut.

Breakfast was a subdued affair. Bobby tried to keep the conversation going but none of you felt in a particularly chatty mood. You even kept your gaze mostly on your meal though you could feel both boys watching you from across the table. You tried not to pout and failed miserably. But you did let Sam help you clear up, a soft, understanding smile exchanged as you washed dishes. And then you helped Dean with his final sweep of the house, checking that they hadn’t left anything behind.

Then it was out to the porch. You watched as Dean loaded up, with Bobby talking to him by the car before a brief exchange of hugs that could only be deemed one in the loosest sense of the word. You were so lost in it you didn’t notice Sam until he appeared beside you, his knuckles gently brushing against your hand to get your attention.

‘Hey,’ he said quietly, watching you with that reverent, quiet sadness that made a fresh wave of guilt, pierce through your chest. Still worrying about you, you could tell.

‘Hey,’ you said, forcing yourself to smile. It didn’t work. You’d gone past holding back, past not talking about things. He was direct now, like Dean always was.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘Yeah fine,’ you lied, ‘just tired.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ he murmured. He looked it too. There were slight bags under his eyes and a paleness that hinted he’d not got his normal twelve hours.

‘You should sleep on the way,’ you said, offering a smirk, ‘Dean’s not gonna let you drive anyway.’

‘Yeah, probably not,’ he said, breathing a laugh.

You’d expect it to be awkward. You’d expected it to hurt, and granted, it did. You’d spent the night letting it hurt. But this pain wasn’t like it had been with Dean. It was a different love, soft, gentle, and understanding. It hurt all the same, but it felt right. Like Sam had done the right thing.

Though you still loved him. He was still your friend and you’d still rather him here than in the back end of nowhere going to his hundredth school and fighting with his dad.

‘I’ll see you soon, right?’ you asked, hope bleeding into your tone despite your best efforts.

‘Yeah,’ Sam said, though you both knew there was no telling when they’d swing back this way.

‘If not, maybe you can send me a postcard,’ you suggested. Sam grinned again at the joke.

‘Yeah, I can,’ he nodded. You moved first, tucking yourself into him, your arms around his waist. He didn’t hesitate to hold you, his chin touching just above your head. You held him tight, allowing him to engulf you. Soft and gentle, completely submerged into his warmth one last time. His t-shirt was soft against your cheek, and his thumb traced slow, soothing circles along your back before you pulled back, your breath shaky as you offered him a final tight nod.

Dean appeared a second later, jogging up the steps but he slowed when he saw the two of you pull apart, clearing his throat and his asking hesitantly, ‘you nearly ready, Sammy?’

‘Uh yeah,’ Sam said, offering you one last look and a nod before he trudged down the steps.

You and Dean both watched him go before you looked at each other. He looked unusually shy; hands slid casually in the front pockets of his jeans. You folded your arms across your chest, hoping it would keep you together.

‘You know I’m gonna have to put up with him moping all the way to Illinois,’ he said.

‘Moping?’ you frowned, lost in wherever he was headed.

‘Yeah, ‘bout leavin’ you,’ Dean said flatly. You felt your stomach flip flop.

‘I’m sure he’ll be fine,’ you said. You weren’t sure you would but that wasn’t their problem.

‘You two have gotten close this summer,’ Dean said. Whether it was a statement or a question you weren’t sure. You felt him looking for something in your face and it made you think back to the day of your fight, the uncertainty when he’d asked if you’d found Sam hot. Not judging. Worried.

But it wasn’t like he had anything to be concerned about. Not now.

‘He’s a good friend,’ you said firmly. A line drawn in the sand. Dean nodded and his shoulders relaxed like whatever he’d been thinking had melted away. He was so incredibly like his brother in the way he just took your word for it. Both of them willingly believing whatever you told them. Whatever it was easy to believe.

‘Besides,’ you said, watching him with teasing eyes, ‘is this your way of saying you aren’t going to miss me?’

‘I always miss you,’ Dean said firmly. You faltered at the honesty in it and then smiled, inching a tiny bit closer to him. Dean straightened up, looking down at you with those soft, green eyes.

‘You know you can always call, right?’ you asked.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Dean said. He hesitated as you pushed up onto your tip toes, your arms wrapping around his neck. Then, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close until you were flush against him. You don’t know how long it lasted, though like every moment with Dean this summer the world seemed to narrow until it was just the two of you. When you finally forced yourself to pull away, he caught your shoulder before you could step entirely out of his grip. And then he leaned down and pressed a short chaste kiss on your cheek. You watched him with wide eyes as he pulled back, that tell tale smirk on his lips before he nodded and headed down towards the car.

Sam was just pulling out of a hug with Bobby by the time he got there, and you forced yourself not to blush as he looked back and waved before the pair of them got into the car. Bobby joined you on the porch and you both stood and watched as the Impala trailed slowly down the drive and finally turned out of the lot.

Dean had watched the rearview until you’d finally disappeared from view then he’d turned his eyes to the road and settled down, throwing a Zeppelin tape into the stereo to try and make his heart beat to a more settled rhythm. Sam was quiet beside him, neither of them speaking until they finally turned onto the highway where Sam was betrayed by a yawn. Dean looked over, analysing his little brother for a second.

‘Tired?’ Dean asked after a beat. Sam yawned again but pushed himself up and shrugged.

‘A little,’ Sam said, the night of broken sleep and Dean’s snoring when he’d finally made it back to his room now catching up on him.

‘Well, we’ve got at least ten hours of road ahead of us, so feel free to take a nap,’ Dean chuckled.

‘Eh, I think I slept enough this summer,’ Sam said, a small grin touching his lips.

‘Yeah, probably,’ Dean said, though his face settled into something wistful that made Sam curious. After a second Dean cleared his throat, ‘it was a good one though, huh?’

Sam watched him for a second and the smiled, ‘yeah, it was.’

As the air around them got deathly sentimental Dean became visibly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and turned up the music before he settled back, arm up on the door frame as he drove with one handed ease.

Sam settled down against his door, bunching the hoodie he’d brought with him against it as a pillow. But he didn’t close his eyes, not right away. He was too busy watching Dean. Like he had when the two of you were on the porch. Like he had at every moment this summer.

Sam Winchester wasn’t stupid. He’d known you’d come to him because you’d fallen out with Dean. He’d known he was a distraction. He’d know that at some level you still liked his brother, or that you wanted to make him jealous even if you hadn’t realised you’d been doing it. It was why he’d put in fail safe early on. Sensible Sam. The boy that didn’t go through girls in every state. The guy that didn’t rush into sex and all that other stuff, so no one got hurt.

He’d told himself as long as he accepted this was a summer fling he’d be safe. He’d even seen it as a challenge to be won when Dean had showed back up in your life. For a while it had been one he’d won. But then Dean had sacrificed himself for that hunt. He’d had you in his bed, he’d been in your head, but your heart had been with Dean.

And as the summer drew to a close, he kept trying to convince himself that it could work. If he could keep you surrounded by him, if he could be the best boyfriend he could be maybe you’d finally love him the way he had found he loved you.

But then he’d seen it.

How Dean looked at you, especially when he thought no one was watching. How he’d insisted on tagging along this summer, not because he thought Sam was a kid who needed watching but because he wanted to be one too. How he’d done his usual defensive bullshit after you’d argued. How he’d taken that case, let Sam stay and no doubt got railed on from his dad for disobeying orders.

Sam had realised that Dean was in love before he’d even considered it. Dean Winchester was in love with you. More to the point you were the only person outside of his family he’d ever let himself get attached to.

And Sam knew he loved his brother too much to ever stand in the way of that.

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authors note: this is the end and unfortunately how it was always going to end however i know from some comments that a lot of people wanted her to pick one. i was too torn for that so I wrote alternate endings that way you can pick how you want it to end.

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☆ crush (sam's ending) ☆ crush (dean's ending) ☆

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

That was why he’d never bothered with it. He picked girls he wouldn’t get attached to. Not soft, spiky. He chose girls who didn’t need him. Who didn’t care when they caught him with someone else, and who knew better than to pry too deep into his personal life. Girls who didn’t seem bothered he lived out of a duffel bag or ate bologna sandwiches because they were down to the last few bucks again.

The only person he’d ever let himself get attached to was you.

And the worst part was, he hadn’t even realized he’d done it until it was already too late. He knew you were friends, his only friend if he was being completely honest with himself. He knew he liked being around you, and that if they were ever within a couple hundred miles of South Dakota, he would hope beyond everything that John would suggest pitching up at Bobby’s.

He just hadn’t realised how much he had come to value your friendship until everything had become threatened. Until you’d come downstairs in that dress that danced on your thighs with your hair spun like magic. He’d smelled the cherry lip-gloss smeared against your perfect lips and he’d seen you as something other than the girl he’d left behind last summer. Dean knew it had been coming. Hell, he’d had to grow up leaps and bounds over the last year thanks to his dad but seeing you like that had made him panic. It had made him want to hold on to you so tightly that he’d ended up doing the very opposite. He’d made fun of you. He’d seen it in your face when you’d lashed out at him that he’d hurt you. But by then the pair of you had fallen into a stubbornness neither of you could break.

And you’d gone straight to Sam.

Because of course you had. Sam was everything Dean wasn’t. Soft. Kind. Considerate. He knew how to be gentle and not clunky and defensive. He knew how to treat a girl, how to talk to her, and not just try and get into her pants. When he had turned sixteen Dean had teased him mercilessly for the whole virginity thing, but he wasn’t stupid to think that Sam had never seen any action. Girls dug that awkward, shy, nerdy thing he had going. What was even worse was that he didn’t even have to try the way Dean did. He just had this effortless thing that girls flocked to, even if he didn’t realise it (hence where the mocking usually came from, like the time Dean had ruffled Sam’s hair just as a stray condom fell out of the birthday card Dean had bought him).

So why wouldn’t you?

At the thought of it, Dean felt a pit of jealousy form in his stomach. It was stupid and ugly. Not to mention completely irrational, he knew that. It just felt like it always had. Like when Sam got the toy from the cereal box because he was younger because what would Dean do with it anyway? Like every time Dean had ever been starving but he had to wait for Sam to scarf down whatever it was that he’d scraped together because he hadn’t learned not to bitch about being hungry yet at just five years old. It felt like when John sent Dean on his first solo hunt, not because he’d earned it, but because he’d wanted time together with Sam to cure the rebellious streak he’d been going through. 

Punished for being too obedient, for not causing trouble. 

Punished for not letting himself have what he wanted.

For not being honest.

No, Dean had reasoned, trying to shake the idea from his head. He wasn’t lying to himself. He probably didn’t even like you like that. Sure, you were cute, one of the prettiest girls he’d ever laid eyes on, but he could appreciate a woman without being in love with her.  He was just used to you being his friend, being the only person outside of his damn family that he actually gave two shits about. And he was just hurt, he supposed. Hurt that the two of you had been so close, and yet you hadn't bothered to tell him a thing.

Of course he knew he couldn’t complain about it too much. The pair of you hadn’t been on speaking terms for most of summer, and he and Sam had been fighting too. But why you hadn’t said anything after everyone had made up, he didn’t know. Maybe Mandy had been wrong. He’d been looking for it, watching the pair of you at every turn to see if he could figure it out but it wasn’t working.

Sam wasn’t tactile with girls like he was. There was no easy arm thrown around the shoulder, no casual hand grazing across your waist. He didn’t pull you in and kiss you, not that Dean had seen anyway. And ever since the lake day, his eyes had been glued to you both, watching like a hawk with curiosity that neither of you seemed to pick up on.

In fact, he’d watched so hard he was now confused.Because you touched him as much as you touched Sam. He wasn’t even sure you knew you were doing it. You put your feet in his lap in the car. You rested your head against his shoulder when you were sitting together on Bobby's sagging couch. You hugged him just as tightly as you hugged Sam. You made inside jokes and teased him. You laughed with him the exact same way you did his brother, louder, easier even.

So he couldn’t decide what the hell that meant.

And he couldn’t wait any damn longer to find out. He knew if he’d asked you directly, he risked another falling out. But Sam… Sam might have been easier.

They didn’t always talk about deep shit, but he could read Sam like a book. So, he just needed to ask the question.

Sam was sitting on the edge of Bobby’s cluttered desk, waiting for you to come downstairs, something which the pair of them had been at for at least half an hour now. The house was quiet and Sam wasn’t paying attention, staring up at the ceiling as Dean watched him.

He only looked over when Dean finally blew a heavy breath out of his lips, making them ripple loudly in the quiet room. Sam shot him a look of disapproval and Dean grinned. Then he shifted on the arm of the couch, clearing his throat and keeping Sam’s attention as he joked, ‘remember when we used to be able to just go out?’

‘What?’ Sam asked, a puzzled look on his face.

‘You know,’ Dean muttered, shifting again and nodding his head above him towards where your room was, ‘no waiting around. Just straight out the door on our bikes.’

‘She likes doing this stuff,’ Sam shrugged, his tone defensive in a way that instantly made a guilty pit form in Dean’s stomach. Clunky and mean. Out of line. Again.

‘Yeah, no, I know,’ he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged, ‘I wasn’t…’

‘Besides you must’ve had to wait for Mandy when you guys went out,’ Sam reasoned, logical as ever.

‘Yeah, never really around for that part,’ Dean muttered. Because again, he didn’t do that. He wasn’t waiting on girls at their front door. He wasn’t the guy who bought flowers or even knocked. He honked from the street and waited. He didn’t meet dads or do dates. Because they weren’t girls like you. Dean shifted, watching his brother closely, ‘…you think that’s what this is?’

Sam raised an eyebrow, lost in what he was asking.

‘You think…maybe she’s scouting around for a boyfriend?’ Dean asked, trying to ignore how his mouth got thick with spit and dry at the same time.

‘Doubt it,’ Sam snorted softly. When Dean furrowed his brow, Sam let out a heavy sigh, ‘whenever she goes out, she’s with us two. And you’re hardly approachable.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Dean said, not feeling reassured in the slightest. He could do it now. He could just ask if she didn’t need a boyfriend because she already had one. But the words stalled in his throat. Instead, he just edged in softly. A far cry from how he’d normally wade in, size elevens straight in his mouth.

‘No but…’ Dean started again, Sam watched him closely sensing something shift, ‘you’re growing up…’

Sam just looked at him, and Dean felt his cheeks grow warm as a defensive, ‘what?’ pulled from deep inside his chest.

‘You’re being weird,’ Sam said flatly.

‘No, I’m not,’ Dean scoffed, looking away.

‘Yes, you are,’ Sam replied. Dean huffed and dropped his gaze to his boots ignoring Sam’s gaze on his face. He cleared his throat again, trying to get the words he wanted to ask out.

‘I’m just,’ Dean said, finally looking up, his shoulders rising in a tentative shrug, ‘…you’d tell me, right?’

‘Tell you what?’ Sam said, keeping his face remarkably composed considering he could feel his heart hammering violently against his ribs.

‘If you…if you got a girlfriend or something,’ Dean said, the words sinking deep down inside his gut, ‘if you liked some chick. You’d tell me, right?’

‘Do you tell me about every chick you like?’ Sam countered smoothly. Because of course he did. Dean might have been the better fighter, but Sam could take down any opponent in an argument, tangle them in knots without trying.

‘No, but I’m not like you,’ Dean said, hoping that was enough. Sam faltered then, whatever retort he’d been working on before Dean spoke disappearing from his eyes as he said it.  

‘Yeah,’ Sam said, clearing his throat awkwardly as he looked away, ‘yeah, I suppose I would.’

‘Good,’ Dean said.

He was going to do it. He could just ask right now and get it over with. Then he’d know. If you and Sam were a thing he could ignore whatever had niggled at him since the lake. He could get used to it, his best friend and his brother. He could be happy for you and Sam because he loved you both so much.

‘Because I-’

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry!’ you said, clattering down the stairs and bursting into the study in a flurry of colour. You only came to a stop when you reached Sam, slinging your purse up onto your shoulder and flicking your hair out from under the strap. When Sam raised an eyebrow at you, you frowned, smacking him in the shoulder as you tried to disperse the guilt his patient face brewed inside you.

‘Don’t look at me like that, I know we’re going to be late,’ you scolded.

‘We’re only going to miss the previews,’ Sam said softly, like it didn’t matter.

‘Yeah, but Dean likes the previews,’ you countered. Dean felt his heart give a sudden, massive swell at the casual mention of his name, the feeling growing even bigger as you turned away from Sam and walked directly toward him. You stopped just short of where he was sitting, and Dean couldn’t stop himself from casting his eyes slowly up the length of you. The heels that put you just below his chin. The dress that danced on your thighs. The makeup, the hair.

You looked beautiful. Even when you were looking down at him on the verge of rolling your eyes as he snapped out from the trance he’d been in.

‘What?’ you asked, looking at him curiously.

‘Nothing,’ he lied, standing up and trying to ignore the way Sam was watching you two. Dean cleared his throat and shrugged, ‘but you’re definitely buying me a big fat bucket of popcorn for making us late.’

‘Noted,’ you grinned.

And then without a second thought, you locked your arm tightly in his, physically dragging him toward the front door. Dean felt himself look back over his shoulder as you did, watching you beckon his brother to follow with a loud, cheerful, ‘come on, Sammy!’

And then the three of you headed out into the warm evening air. Dean’s arm locked securely in yours, and Sam’s eyes trained heavily on it the entire way to the car.

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You had known it wouldn’t be long. As the days whittled down and the evenings got cooler, you’d known that your stolen time would come to an end. And yet, it still felt like a sudden punch to the gut when the three of you had finally come inside from shooting practice, just for fun this time, and found Bobby waiting in the kitchen. He’d had the phone pressed to his ear but then he immediately handed over for Dean who took it obediently.

You’d known then it was over. But John had at least given them a night. He was finishing up his case and wanted them to meet them somewhere over in Indianna. And given he was still out in Nevada and the boys were closer it meant you got the night together before they’d be forced to leave.

And as much as you wanted to soak up every minute, after dinner was done and Sam had volunteered to the dishes you’d found being inside becoming too much. Because tomorrow, it would just be you and Bobby again. Tomorrow, you wouldn’t know when you’d next hear from them, or if they were even safe.

So you had taken yourself out onto the back porch.

You tried to ignore the heaviness in your heart and focus on the now. You watched the gentle breeze roll through the weeds and the gravel. You watched the lowering sunshine bounce off an old chevy out by the garage. You listened to the boys laughing inside the kitchen just behind you, smiling at how easy it felt.

You hadn’t realised it had gone quiet, you were too lost in your own head, until you heard the familiar creak of the back step and looked around to find Dean coming through it, a soft, gentle smile resting on his face as he closed the door quietly behind him and walked toward you.

Your smile was weak in return, your head propped up on your hand and your elbow rested on your knee as you turned back to the yard. He took a seat beside you on the stoop, one leg stretched beyond the step, the other bent beside yours. He nudged his knee against yours, forcing you to detach and sit up. When he grinned at you expectantly you rolled your eyes but sat up anyway, the pair of you settling into a comfortable silence for a moment as you both looked out over the yard.

‘Man, I can’t wait for this heat to go,’ Dean said quietly.

‘Yeah?’ you asked, turning to look at him.

‘Honey, I’m sweatin’ in places you don’t even wanna know about,’ he joked, his grin widening when you wrinkled your nose in disgust.

‘Well, you will insist on wearing jeans,’ you said, bumping your thigh against his denim clad one.

‘Yeah, maybe next summer I can borrow one of your dresses,’ Dean teased.

‘Yeah? You know, I’ve got a lovely green one upstairs. It’ll match your eyes perfectly,’ you said, giggling when Dean shoved your shoulder. You bumped back against him, the pair of you settling again. Dean chuckled, drawing your gaze back to him. You watched his face closely, how it radiated brighter than the sun, a warm glint in his green eyes as he chuckled, ‘you uh…do you remember that time we went fishing at the creek with Bobby?’

‘The day you got sunburnt?’ you asked. Dean nodded.

‘You had handprints on your back where you’d tried to put it on because you wouldn’t ask for help,’ you laughed, remembering the day. Blistering hot, Dean insisting on taking his shirt off as you all waded through the creek. Bobby had told him he’d catch the sun, but he’d insisted he’d be fine, putting it on his shoulders half heartedly before he’d pulled focus to smothering Sam in it.

‘I forgot,’ Dean lied.

‘You put it on Sam,’ you countered, your smile teasing, ‘you were just thought you were too cool for it.’

‘I am,’ Dean said.

‘Dean Winchester, the only man brave enough to go toe-to-toe with the sun,’ you grinned.

‘Yeah, look where it got me,’ Dean said. For a fraction of a second, the memory of the sheer, agonizing heat that had radiated from his skin that night seemed to wash over him like a ghost, ‘you and Sam kept slapping it.’

‘Served you right,’ you said. Dean watched you for a second before he let out a deep sigh.

‘I miss summers like that,’ he said quietly. The words dulled your laughter, that sharp flash of upset returning into your chest again but you let it go just as quickly, forcing yourself to live in the good.

‘Yeah, me too,’ you agreed.

‘It’s been good though,’ Dean said, looking uncharacteristically sheepish when you raised an eyebrow at him, ‘mostly.’

‘Yeah, it has,’ you murmured. You felt the quiet fall again, that tight narrowing of the space around you like you’d felt all summer around Dean.

It was different around him.

Sam buoyed you. He made you comfortable, safe. Loving him was easy because he knew what he wanted, he moved in that logical manner. Head over heart. A gentle warmth that never asked for more than she could give.

But Dean... Dean was different. Around him it was like the world evaporated. You could feel every inch of his gaze on your face, how he watched you so closely. It made your heart hammer and your palms sweaty even now. Even when you’d thought it had gone away there was still something there.

And with him watching you like that, it was impossible to let the guilt flourish the way it usually did whenever you had thoughts like this. It was hard to let Sam encroach on every corner of your mind when you knew the summer was coming to an end. Tomorrow, Dean would be a million miles away, instead of right here within arm's reach.

‘It’s gonna suck when you go,’ you said, the words coming before you could stop them. Dean smiled sadly, his eyes softening.

‘We still got tonight,’ he reasoned.

‘Yeah, I know,’ you said dejectedly.

‘We could watch a movie,’ he said, moving a strand of hair back from your shoulder, ‘one of those chick flicks you like huh?’

He looked at you as if the entire weight of the world was hinging on your smile. So, you gave it to him, allowing him to slide his heavy arm around your shoulder and pull you firmly into his side. His arm felt strong around you and he smelled like laundry detergent and old spice, something he’d no doubt robbed from Bobby at some point in the summer.

You tucked yourself into him, resting your head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent like you needed to commit it to memory. You locked your eyes on the amulet glinting on his chest that looked remarkably blurry the longer you looked at it, tears pricking at your eyes. You didn’t know if he’d felt it, but Dean pulled you closer, resting his cheek on the top of your head before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

‘You know we’re coming back,’ he murmured into your hair.

‘Are you?’ you asked, your voice small and lacking belief.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said firmly, pushing you back to look at you. His hand ghosted your cheek before it caught your own, not interlocking, not holding hands but dancing against one another’s as he promised, ‘sweetheart, you’re about the only person I ever want to come back to.’

The honesty felt raw and yet he didn’t look embarrassed. He just looked at you, the way he had that day in the garden when he’d been pinned against you. How he had at the lake. How you’d wished he’d looked at you that day back in June, when you’d been going to kiss him and tell him all the things that were bubbling up inside you.

You could do it right now.

You could easily lean in and kiss him.

But then a floorboard creaked and reality pulled you both back from that tiny space, Dean’s hand dropping before yours did though you pushed yourself to your feet first, eyes locked on the back door in case Sam came out. Which was ironic given the amount of time you’d spent this summer doing the exact opposite. Dean pushed himself up too, dusting the back of his jeans off as you cleared your throat awkwardly.

‘We should um,’ you said, gesturing in the direction of the house.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Dean nodded. You looked at each other for a moment before you offered him an apologetic smile and headed inside. Trying to ignore that aching feeling deep inside your gut.

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You couldn’t sleep though that didn’t surprise you in the slightest. It had been a permanent feature of the summer. But tonight it wasn’t the heat. It wasn’t Sam pressed beside like a furnace. It wasn’t crying yourself silly over Dean.

You just lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind endlessly cycling through everything that had happened over the summer. But with every thought another question surfaced and you couldn’t get any closer to how you felt.

You loved Dean, you were sure of that. But you couldn’t fathom if it was something deeper than friendly. If you’d just assumed it was romantic because you’d never known anything like that before.

But you loved Sam too. You’d realised that when you’d heard that creak and leapt out of Dean’s arms. You could’ve kissed him; from the look in his eye, you were sure he would’ve let you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do that to Sam.

You were dragged from your thoughts by a knock at the door. Soft and gentle and when the door didn’t open and you knew exactly who it was.

Sam was waiting on the other side of the door when you opened it, and he offered you a small smile when your head peered around the edge of it. A genuine smile split across your own face as you quickly caught his wrist, pulling him inside the bedroom and shutting the door soundlessly behind him.

‘I was wondering if you’d come,’ you said, pulling him into the middle of your room, your arms looping around his neck as he held your hips, ‘is Dean asleep?’

‘Yeah, completely zonked out,’ Sam said, the snoring that had been emanating from his brother rivalling a chainsaw.

You smiled again and pushed up onto your tip toes, pulling him down to kiss you. You were gentle at first, basking in that familiar sweetness, but then something in the back of your mind kicked in.  As if there was a timer your head ticking down to him leaving you grew hungrier, pushing yourself against him as you forced it deeper. Sam lost himself in it allowing you to pull him towards the bed, the backs of his knees hitting the mattress and toppling him down. You were on him in a second, straddling his lap as your lips returned their frantic assault.

But then you felt it, reluctance. The subtle shift made you hesitate, pulling back just enough to look down at him. His face was flushed, looking uncharacteristically bashful and shy, a lot like he had the very first time you’d done this.

‘What is it?’ you murmured.

‘Can we not…’ Sam asked quietly, ‘…can we just…’

You felt disappointment flutter sharply inside you, but you forced it down and nodded, clambering off him and climbing into bed. You patted the mattress beside you and grinned as he smiled goofily and clambered over towards the side by the wall, slipping down beside you as you did the same. You both laid there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, side by side, your fingers tightly intwined.

When Sam finally turned his head to look at you, he caught you already watching him.

‘What?’ he frowned.

‘Nothing, it’s just…you don’t fit in my bed,’ you said, sure that he’d grown another couple of inches in the weeks they’d been here, ‘I’ve never really noticed before.’

‘Yeah. Me either,’ Sam said quietly. He’d always been too consumed by you to be bothered by how cramped it was. His head too busy and his heart too full of you.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ you said, the words coming before you could stop them. Sam smiled sadly, his eyes softening.

‘Me either,’ he said again. You dropped your gaze, tracing your finger along the faded design on the front of his shirt, trying to ignore the tightness in your throat.

‘I was thinking,’ you said, swallowing hard to make your voice sound more even, ‘maybe you could ask if you could swing by. You know, next time you’re on break from school.’

‘I don’t know if my dad would let me,’ Sam said dejectedly.

‘He might. If it didn’t impact a hunt,’ you said, lacing your voice with hope, ‘I mean Dean said he’d come back as soon as he could. You both could. Bobby wouldn’t care-’

‘Dean said that?’ Sam interrupted, his voice dropping to something sharp and focused. You faltered but then muttered, ‘yeah why?’

Sam didn’t answer. He just nodded slowly to himself, a heavy, unreadable expression settling over his face. Then, without a single word of warning, he leaned across the space between you and kissed you. It took you aback for a minute, the way his fingers firmly held your jaw like he was trying to stop you floating away. But you melted into it in a second.

It was different from all the other times. He wasn’t rough but he was intentional. Clothes were barely discarded, mouth hot and heavy everywhere he could get. Thick and full inside you, your name groaned low in your ear as you came apart around him. His mouth on your neck hard enough that you’d need to cover it up tomorrow as he came inside you.

There was no talking after that. He didn’t lay beside you awkwardly; you didn’t watch one another. Instead, he just rolled you onto your side and pulled you into his chest. He slung his arm around you, your fingers intertwined and pressed against your heart before you fell asleep.

When you woke up, the sky outside the window was just beginning to turn a pale, watery grey, though it couldn’t have been any later than five in the morning. Sam’s arm was still slung around you, and you nestled back into him, savouring the moment because you knew he’d have to get up soon and sneak back to his room. He stirred as you did, his hand coming up to rub his face gently as he yawned in your ear, ‘what time is it?’

‘Just before five,’ you murmured quietly.

‘Hm,’ was all he said.

You didn’t reply, you just waited for his arm to wrap back around you but it didn’t because he sat up, forcing you to flop onto your back to look at him. He smiled but it was weak and then he climbed over you, long leg clearing you and the edge of the mattress and touching the ground easily. You pushed yourself up and sat next to him as he sat on the bed pulling his t-shirt over his head from where it had been flung onto the floor.

But you could see it, the hesitance in his face. How he wouldn’t mee your eye.

‘Sam,’ you said, your gut pulling tight, ‘what is it?’

Sam looked at you, his gaze dropping to his lap for a second before he cleared his throat, whatever debate he’d been having winning out as he said, ‘it’s just…I think we should talk.’

‘Talk?’ you asked, feeling your throat close up. You didn’t want to talk. You wanted this.

You wanted Sam. Heart of gold, sweet, and thoughtful Sam.

Soft lips, dazzling hazel eyes, and marking hands Sam.

‘I think…maybe next time we come back here, we probably shouldn’t…’

He didn’t finish, but he gestured vaguely between the two of you, but the movement was enough to draw a firm, unyielding line in the sand.

‘Oh,’ was all you could offer.

‘Because we agreed, right?’ Sam said, his voice suddenly sounding hesitant as he watched your face as though it would tell him what he wanted before you would, ‘that this is the sweet spot? This way no one gets hurt.’

‘Yeah,’ you lied, forcing your voice to sound brighter as you nodded, ‘yeah, you’re right.’

‘Thought so,’ Sam said, offering you an apologetic smile.

He stood then and you did too because you didn’t know what else to do. You walked him to the door, your feet finding your way more than your head.

He hesitated after he opened it, the pair of you lingering there as he looked down on you sadly.

‘You know, for what it’s worth…I wouldn’t have changed anything about this summer,’ he said honestly. You forced a nod.

‘Me either,’ you said. And then he leaned down holding your face gently in his hands and brushed his lips against yours. You let yourself yield into the warmth him completely but just as quickly, he pulled back, letting you go and disappearing silently down the dark hallway.

You closed the door behind him and rested your back against the solid wood, and then you let the heartbreak finally settle deep into your chest like rot.

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supernatural/sam/dean tags

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘You got a call,’ Sam said, tossing the phone onto his chest where it landed on the blankets with a thud. It only took a second for him to recognise it. One of his dad’s burners he kept in the glove compartment should any of his old contacts come knocking.

‘Where did you get this? It’s-’

‘Dad’s yeah,’ Sam said, ‘it was ringing so I answered it and-’

‘Why were you in my car?’ Dean asked angrily given that the last he’d seen of his brother was him going to bed which, according to his watch, had been over two hours ago. Sam felt Lainey’s eyes land on him but he ignored her, shrugging, ‘heard it ringing. Anyway it was some guy looking for an Edgar Cayce.’

‘What did he want?’ Lainey asked.

‘Apparently dad had a container at a storage place,’ Sam said.

‘No way,’ Dean said, pushing himself up properly as he tried to think, to cast his mind back over his dad mentioning a lock up or container anywhere which was hard to do when still addled by sleep.

‘Just outside of Buffalo and get this: someone just broke into it,’ Sam explained, ‘I said we’d handle it.’

‘Right, yeah sure,’ Dean said, finally coming into focus, ‘just let me get dressed.’

As Sam nodded and headed out of the room he got up, his instincts kicking in. Lainey watched him find his pre-packed duffle. Watched how he rifled through for a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans. And she knew she should probably get up and do the same. That he expected her to be moving, bag grabbed, clothes thrown on, and make-up done in the car if she really wanted to. Yet she couldn’t force herself to.

Because she hadn’t given Sam an answer.

She’d confronted him, they’d argued, and then his words had just hung there, his pleading just settling in the air with no reply. Only disappearing when Dean had come looking for her, his voice breaking the heavy silence as he called her name up the stairs. They hadn’t spoken after that, not about it anyway. They’d both just kept up the charade of normality. Like she wasn’t worried about him. Like he wasn’t frustrated with her.

Like she wasn’t wondering why he was up or why he’d been in the car in the middle of the night. Like she wasn’t scanning back to all the possible phone calls or late night drives the pair of them had missed while they had been focused on making the most of everything to see what had been going on.

‘You getting ready?’ Dean asked as he pulled his t-shirt on and found her unmoved on the bed, pulling her from her thoughts – from the idea of spending a day driving together pretending that everything was fine.

‘I was just thinking I could stay here,’ she said, climbing up onto her knees as he came towards the bed, capturing her waist as he frowned and asked, ‘why?’

‘It’s like a thousand-mile round trip,’ she reasoned.

‘And?’ Dean reasoned, like they didn’t do all that and more on the regular.

‘And it’s probably nothing. Just kids messing around or whatever,’ she said, but he didn’t look like he was buying it, his eyes narrowing as he pulled her ever so slightly closer. So she looked for something else. Something that rang true without being the truth. Something that would placate him without him looking any further at her because he would, and he’d know there was something even if he didn’t ask. Lainey sighed.

‘I don’t know. I think maybe it’ll be good for you and Sam, you know? Spend some time together just the two of you,’ she said.

‘Has he said something?’ Dean frowned.

‘No of course not,’ Lainey said, gliding her hands up from his chest to his face, ‘but come on you gotta admit it’s not fun when you’re third-wheeling every day of your life.’

‘I’m sure he doesn’t mind,’ Dean said quietly, like he hadn’t considered it.

‘I’m sure he doesn’t,’ Lainey promised, ‘but it won’t hurt for the two of you to do this alone. Besides it’s all John’s stuff…it’s family stuff.’

‘You are family,’ Dean said, pulling her tighter.

‘I know,’ she chuckled, brushing it off as best she could, ‘are you really havin’ an existential crisis over me wantin’ a few extra hours in bed over goin’ through a load of dusty old books and trinkets.’

Dean rolled his eyes.

‘Fine then princess. You stay here and enjoy a few more hours shut eye. Leave me all by myself,’ he said, pushing her until she flopped back on the bed clumsily as he zipped up his duffle. Lainey pushed herself onto her elbows and watched him.

‘You’ve got Sam,’ she reasoned, poking her toe into his belly as he stood up.

‘Sam doesn’t look as pretty as you in my passenger seat,’ Dean grumbled, catching her ankle and moving it around him as he leant down, hovering over her and smirking as her breath caught, ‘call me when you wake up?’

‘Of course,’ she said, smiling as he kissed her. But as he pulled back she grabbed on, tugging him closer and forcing it deeper until they were both slightly breathless.

‘Can’t have you forgetting what you’re comin’ back to can I?’ she mused as he pulled back.

‘You’re a devil woman,’ he said, grabbing his duffle and slinging it up on his shoulder.

‘Hot though,’ she countered. Dean smirked and headed for the door but she called his name, soft and gentle, making him pause.

‘Drive safe?’ she asked.

‘Always do sweetheart.’

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It was raining when Lainey woke up. Thick, densely packed clouds hiding any hint of blue on offer and casting the salvage yard in a dull grey tinge despite it still being summer. But then again that was how Lainey felt when she woke. When she found the sheets next to her cold and empty and remembered that Dean was bound to be a few states away by now. It was sickening how much she missed him. How she knew he was safe, well as safe as Dean Winchester could ever be, and how he’d be back soon and she still felt out of sorts. Like she was missing a limb or something.

Maybe Sam had had a point. That her dragging her feet when it came to helping him didn’t make sense because if she felt like this now how would she actually feel when he was gone. When she knew he wasn’t just a phone call or a drive away. When her life became perpetual grey skies and downpour. Maybe he was right that she’d had it easy, being the fun one. Maybe he was right that making the most of every day didn’t mean anything if those ‘every days’ were finite.

But trusting Ruby? When they’d been down a road like this before? Hell that was what had gotten then into this mess in the first place. And she didn’t know if she could do it again.

And she didn’t believe, in her heart of hearts, that she could help. Which, she realised, that was what she was afraid of. Because standing back, making the most of things before letting it happen was one thing. Trying and failing somehow felt worse.

She was dwelling on it when she went downstairs, padding through the study with a mumbled good morning to Bobby before she headed to the kitchen in search of coffee. The pot still had some left in it but it had long since gone cold so she poured it down the sink and swilled it with water before she set up for a fresh pot.

It distracted her.

The hiss of the water, the crunch of the grounds as she patted them into place, the gurgle of the ancient machine struggling to come to life after spending the past few days being heavily abused by four caffeine fiends instead of just Bobby. It was why she didn’t hear him at first, didn’t spot him until she turned back and rested against the counter and found Bobby standing at the kitchen door watching her closely.

‘What?’ she asked self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘Just checking the calendar,’ Bobby said.

‘What are you talking about?’ Lainey asked, his attempt at a joke falling not only flat but disgruntling her further. Like he was just an added storm cloud to her day.

‘Well, the boys left a note sayin’ they were headed out on a job but you’re here so I figure there must be a blue moon out somewhere,’ Bobby said.

‘They’ve gone to John’s lock up,’ she muttered, turning back to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee. Though by now she didn't even really want it. It was just something to do with her hands.

‘And they didn’t drag you along for the ride?’ Bobby asked, his boots clunking against the linoleum as he shuffled into the kitchen, ‘I figured Dean wouldn’t know how to drive anymore without you in the car.’

‘I told them to go alone,’ she shrugged, ‘I thought it would be good for them. You know, some brotherly bonding over a mountain of their dad’s old crap.’

‘And you’re okay with that?’ he asked.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she lied. Bobby grunted, pulling a clean mug from the cupboard and placing it down next to hers, his eyes never leaving her which only stirred her irritation further. Lainey sighed, defensive lines hardening around her mouth, ‘we don’t have to spend all our time together you know.’

‘Mmhmm,’ Bobby said disbelievingly, ‘and I’m the King of England.’

Once it was full she placed the pot down a little too harsh and looked up at him. It was funny. Knowing someone so well. It was why she’d stayed here instead of going with Dean, because there were only so many hesitant glances and stumbled through excuses they could make before he knew something was up with either of them. And she didn’t want to tell him, not before she decided what she was going to say to Sam. She’d just forgotten that staying here presented just as big of a problem. That when she looked at Bobby, really looked at him, with his worn flannel and the new hat she’d bought him yesterday sitting fresh and clean on top of his head that he wasn’t doing the same. He wasn’t seeing tired eyes and a camisole with Scooby Doo on the front. He wasn’t seeing a girl missing her boyfriend.

He was seeing everything, even if she didn’t want him to. Everything she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him just yet.

‘Why would I drive all the way to New York to look up a bunch of dusty ol’ crap when I can do that without leavin’ my house,’ she said.

‘Mmhmm,’ Bobby said again, picking his coffee up and heading back to his study. Stoking the fire, like he would do kindling, like he did whenever she had something she wanted to say but couldn’t. He was prodding it out of her through sheer, stubborn silence.

‘What?’ she said, her bare thwacking against the floor as she followed him because she’d failed to put on socks.

‘Did I say anythin’?’ he asked, eyeing her as he took a seat at his desk. Lainey scowled.

‘You never say anything,’ she grumbled, ‘it’s the damn look.’

‘What look?’

‘You know damn well what look,’ she said accusingly, crossing her arms over her chest which sloshed coffee over the side of her mug.

‘And you know damn well you only get this snippy when somethings crawled up your ass,’ Bobby said harshly, ‘usually a fight with Dean but considering the way he wouldn’t put you down all of yesterday I’m not sure it’s him.’

Lainey just glared at him, the silence stretching between them.

‘Fine don’t tell me,’ he shrugged, deliberately dropping his gaze back down to a heavy lore book on his desk.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Lainey lied.

‘Mmhmm,’ Bobby replied, knowing there was a scowl that he just couldn’t see.

‘I’ve gotta call Dean,’ she said, moving towards the stairs, ‘said I would when I woke up,’

‘Mmhmm,’ Bobby said.

‘You’re incredibly annoying you know that?’

‘Mmhmm,’ Bobby said.

‘Whatever,’ she huffed and then she was gone, trying hard not to stomp up the stairs like a disgruntled teenager. Bobby sighed and sat back in his chair and checked his watch. It was going to be a long morning.

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She hadn’t wanted to call Dean. Well, she had, she had wanted to speak to him - to hear his voice. She had just been entirely sure her voice would give her away like it had with Bobby. But he’d been fine, too tired to notice. Too focused on whatever was up at this storage locker. And she could tell from the tinge in his voice, that he was upset that John hadn’t told either of them about it, which only made her feel worse about keeping her own secrets.

So, once he hung up with murmured ‘I love yous,’ and ‘be home soons,’ she did what she always did. She distracted herself.

She bagged up all the clothes she no longer wanted and the ones she’d decreed the boys could no longer, in good faith, wear in public. She decluttered her toiletries and scrubbed the bathroom until her hands were raw from the chemicals. She drove to the dump, then the grocery store, and even batch cooked a massive load of meals for Bobby’s freezer. And she did it all with the kitchen door pulled firmly shut, blasting her stereo to deliberately drown out the rest of the house, intent on not speaking to Bobby for the rest of the day.

She was just pulling a batch of cookies from the oven when the phone rang, bleating for attention over the thud of the heavy music she’d put on that made it quite hard to hear her thoughts. Lainey dropped the hot baking sheet quickly on the countertop and grabbed it, pressing the answer button as she tucked it in the crook of her neck.

‘Hello?’ she said, reaching over to click off the stereo so she could return to moving the hot cookies to a cooling rack.

‘Hey it’s me,’ Sam said from the other end.

‘Hey,’ she said, trying to keep her tone light, ‘have you landed?’

‘Yeah, a while ago actually,’ Sam said.

‘And?’ she asked, wincing as she touched a slightly too hot chocolate chip nestled on the edge of a cookie, ‘everything alright?’

‘Yeah, just got a question for Bobby, is he there?’ Sam asked. Lainey fought her face falling. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, forcing her tone to stay as soft and sweet as the cookie in her hand.

‘Yeah, just a sec,’ she said.

When Lainey made her way back into the study Bobby was just how she’d left him this morning, sitting behind his desk with a large dusty book laid out in front of him. And though he raised an eyebrow as she stepped through, clicking the phone onto speaker, he didn’t say anything as she mumbled, ‘Sam. Needs to ask you a question.’

‘I’m listening,’ Bobby said, watching as she placed it down on the cluttered wood and perched herself on the arm of the couch. Sam dove into an explanation how when they had got to the storage locker it had been broken into and not just by kids. How it had been burgled by two guys, idiots who’d they’d tracked down and got everything from even if that was a dusty old rabbits foot.

‘From the curse boxes?’ Bobby asked. Lainey had been watching him, watching the way his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.

‘Now look Bobby, we didn’t know,’ Sam started, forcing a sinking feeling into her gut not from his words but by the look on Bobby’s face.

‘You touched it? Damn it, Sam!’ he groaned.

‘Is that bad?’ Lainey asked, leaning forward so she was no longer spectating.

‘Well Dad never told us about this thing,’ Sam grumbled, sounding a touch less disgruntled or at least unsurprised by John’s actions as he asked, ‘I mean you knew about his storage place at Black Rock?’

‘His lockup? Yeah, I knew. Hell I built those curse boxes for him,’ Bobby reasoned, sighing and scrubbing a hand down his face as he explained, ‘listen, you have got a serious problem. That rabbit's foot ain't no dime store notion. It's real Hoodoo, Old World stuff. Made by a Baton Rouge conjure woman about a hundred years ago,’ ‘It’s a hell of a luck charm,’ Sam said.

‘It's not a luck charm, it's a curse! She made it to kill people, Sam! See, you touch it, you own it. You own it, sure, you get a run of good luck to beat the Devil. But you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you're dead inside a week,’ Bobby explained.

‘Well, so I won't lose it, Bobby,’ Sam reasoned.

‘Everybody loses it!’ Bobby said.

‘Well, then, how do we break the curse?’ Sam asked.

‘I don't know if you can,’ he sighed.

‘What?’ Lainey and Sam said in unison. Bobby’s eyes flitted to her for a second and then back to the phone as he let out a long breath.

‘Lemme look through my library and make some calls...just sit tight.’

Sam mumbled a quick okay and then clicked his phone off leaving a thick silence to settle over the study. But it was far removed from the cold, stubborn silence of this morning. Like it always was when the chips were down. You could only dwell for so long before you had to stop up at the plate and be proactive.

‘Guess we better get looking then huh?’ she asked after a minute.

‘S’pose so,’ Bobby nodded. Lainey offered a small weary smile and that was it, their morning war was finally over exchanged for the matter at hand. She climbed out of her seat, headed to pile the cookies onto a plate so they had something to work through whilst they tried to find something to break whatever this curse was. But as she got to the door Bobby called and she turned waiting expectantly for whatever it was.

‘Next time, make sure you go with those two idjits won’t you?’ he said. Lainey smiled and nodded and then headed into the kitchen to her cooling cookies.

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Lainey was tired. Tired of webpages that scrolled on forever and came up dud. Tired of old, weathered pages that were hard to decipher even when they were in English. Tired of finding something hopeful which soon turned into nothing substantial.

And it was a feeling she absolutely loathed.

It was why her and Bobby had put down a mac and cheese, a plate of cookies and at least a pot and a half of coffee since they’d started. Why her body felt wired on caffeine, sugar, and starch as she skimmed through an old book about hoodoo Bobby had found in a trunk upstairs.

But then something caught her eye, a page about good luck charms and how to make them. And, more importantly how to break them.

‘What about this?’ she said, sitting up from where she’d been draped along the couch to place the book on his desk, her finger pointing to the excerpt she’d just been reading, ‘now it doesn’t say rabbits’ foot specifically but-’

‘Sounds like it could work,’ Bobby hummed, scratching his chin as he took a closer look.

‘I’ll call Dean,’ she said, pulling her phone out and hitting speed dial.

The phone rang for a moment before clicking on with an easy, ‘hey.’

‘Hey, it’s me,’ Lainey said.

‘You got something?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Just about.’ Lainey said, ‘I mean it wasn’t easy, but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick.’

‘That’s great,’ Dean said. But she could hear the apprehension in his voice, the veneer coating whatever it was that he wasn’t telling her. Lainey sighed.

‘What is it?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Dean,’ she warned. She heard him shuffle then sigh, no doubt scrubbing a hand down his face before he admitted, ‘Sam lost the foot.’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ she sighed, looking at Bobby, ‘he lost the foot.’

‘He what?’ Bobby snapped.

‘Hey,’ Dean said defensively through the line.

‘Hang on I’m putting you on speaker,’ Lainey said, cutting him off as she shuffled the phone from her ear and perched on Bobby’s desk before she placed it down between them.

‘Go on then. Tell us how you two idjits managed to lose the only thing you had to look after,’ Bobby grumbled.

‘We didn’t lose it,’ Dean said irritably, ‘this chick stole it from Sam.’

‘A girl?’ Bobby said, his voice dripping with an audible, unrendered eyebrow-raise.

‘I’m serious. You should’ve seen her. Mid-twenties and sharp you know. Good enough at the con to play us,’ Dean reasoned.

‘You know her name?’ Lainey asked, side stepping the clench of irritation that bubbled through her knowing that sharp probably wasn’t the only thing that got them distracted.

‘Uh, Luigi or something?’ Dean said.

‘Lugosi,’ Sam echoed from somewhere in the background, his voice crackly through Lainey’s speaker. But her brain was already whirring even without Dean’s confirmation. She knew the name; she just couldn’t place it. Not a hunter at least.

‘Lugosi? Lugos,’ Bobby mumbled, his face falling as realisation dawned on him, looking more to Lainey than them as he said, ‘aw crap, it's probably Bela.’

‘Bela Lugosi? That's cute,’ Dean said sarcastically.

‘Bela Talbot's her real name,’ Lainey said icily. Dean paused for a second.

‘You know her?’ Dean asked.

‘Crossed paths with her once or twice,’ Lainey said, her tone tight as she added, ‘can see why you’d get distracted.’

‘Sam got distracted,’ Dean reasoned.

‘Mmhmm,’ Lainey retorted. As Bobby hid a smirk Dean cleared his throat, gearing up to further defend himself given that he couldn’t see the way she’d now crossed her legs and started picking under her nails like the conversation was now boring her.

‘Besides she knew about the rabbit's foot. Is she a hunter?’ he asked.

‘Pretty friggin' far from a hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country,’ Bobby said, glancing up at Lainey who was still ignoring them, ‘last I heard she was in the Middle East someplace.’

‘Ah, I guess she's back,’ Dean breezed.

‘Which means seriously bad luck for you,’ Bobby said bluntly.

‘Great,’ he grumbled.

‘But, if it is Bela at least I might know some folks who know where to find her,’ Bobby reasoned, ‘I’ll get lookin’.’

‘Thanks Bobby,’ Dean said earnestly.

‘Just look out your brother you idjit,’ he said, sinking back into his creaking seat. It was only then did Lainey look up, rolling her eyes as she took the phone from the desk and slid off of it, padding through to the kitchen where Bobby couldn’t hear.

‘Thanks for looking by the way,’ Dean said, when he heard the soft rustle of her moving and realised she’d put the phone to her ear.

‘It’s no problem,’ she said, pulling herself a beer from the fridge and sinking back against the counter, ‘I can tell you the specifics now if you want. Or I can text them to you.’

‘Text Sam he’s better with that stuff,’ Dean said. Lainey could’ve just said okay. She could’ve just told him she loved him and trusted him to deal with whatever was going on. But she couldn’t help but feel that nagging feeling. Not out of jealousy. Out of uncertainty. Because Bela was bad news. Just like Ruby – maybe even worse than Ruby, at least she knew she wasn’t looking out for anyone but herself.

‘So,’ she started, taking a sip of her beer, ‘you got distracted by Bela huh?’

‘Sam got distracted by Bela,’ Dean insisted.

‘Mmhmm,’ she said, but there was no malice to it, just a heavy weight of underlying worry, ‘just be careful Dean.’

‘I am,’ he promised.

‘I mean it. She’s not your run of the mill thief. And there’s not a lot I would put past her,’ she warned.

‘You worried about me sweetheart?’ he teased, his voice dropping to that low and familiar warmth. Lainey felt her heart clench.

‘I always worry about you,’ she said honestly, ‘come back in one piece. Both of you?’

‘Of course,’ he promised.

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‘It’s not Dean.’

Lainey’s words were spoken quietly, so quietly that they could barely be heard above the sound of the rain on the window though it was barely a drizzle. Once they’d found some details for Bela Bobby had sent them over and the pair of them were left with nothing to do but wait. Sitting still was something she wasn’t good at. He’d expected her to go off and do something to keep her mind off it. Bake. Clean. Rearrange his armoury into size order (something she’d done before). But she hadn’t. She’d just sat on his couch, drinking a beer and half watching TV though she’d kept her focus mainly on the book about curses she’d been reading as though it was one of those bodice-ripper romance novels Bobby saw on special offer shelves at the grocery store.

And he hadn’t pushed. He hadn’t needed to because he’d know whatever it was would come crawling out eventually. Now the dust had settled. Now she’d had time to think about it before she dared mention it.

‘It’s not Dean that I’m mad at,’ she said, finding him looking at her from his desk, face cast in a glow from the banker’s lamp on his desk he’d turned on as the grey skies had made it hard to see his book.

‘So it’s Sam,’ he said, already knowing the answer.

‘Yeah, well, no I’m not mad at him. Not really,’ she said, sitting up and putting the book she’d been holding on the cushion beside her. He could see it, bubbling behind her eyes, deep seated worry that spanned past rabbits foots and Bela freaking Talbot.

‘I just…I don’t know what to do Bobby,’ she admitted.

And then it came. All of it. Everything from Dean’s deal to now.

She told him how Dean had made her promise not to help get him out of the contract, because he was convinced that if they tried, Sam would die. How Sam had turned around and made her promise to do the exact opposite, insisting they couldn’t just let Dean die no matter what he said, and no matter the consequences. She told him about Lisa and Ben, and how she’d promised Dean to make the most of their time and not live in grief before it was time, but how she didn’t want to have to grieve him at all. She told him about the almost-baby, and Bobby kept his face remarkably straight, though he was certain he was giving his blood pressure pills a serious workout at the thought.

Then she told him about Sam. How she’d promised to look after him and had already taken her eye off the ball trying to spin plates that made Dean happy. She told him about Ruby, how she didn’t trust her and how she was sure this was a path repeating itself but what else could they do.

She told him everything. Rushed and harried, hard to follow at times, but everything, nonetheless.

‘You done?’ he said once the rambling had finally stopped.

‘Wow,’ Lainey huffed, ‘you suck at bein’ nice.’

‘Maybe, but I’m good at bein’ truthful,’ he said. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, he just watched her and then he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a rough hand over his face.

‘You wanna know what I think?’ he asked. Lainey looked like she was going to say something snarky but thought better of it, nodding her head just a touch.

‘Idjits,’ he muttered, shaking his head, ‘both of ‘em.’

‘Bobby,’ she sighed.

‘What? Sam’s out here playing with damn fire and Dean can’t see it because he’s too busy burying his head in the sand,’ he said, ‘and you ain’t much better.’

‘Excuse me?’ she scoffed.

‘Why are you askin’ me for help when you know you want?’ he asked, eyes boring into her face, ‘don’t you?’

Lainey hesitated.

‘I don’t wanna lose him,’ she said quietly, her voice already cracking, ‘but what if we try and we can’t. What if Sam follows this Ruby girl and it’s not enough and I still lose him?’

‘What if you don’t try and you lose him anyway,’ Bobby said quietly. Lainey scrunched her mouth, fighting to keep from crying. Bobby sighed, his expression softening.

‘Look what Sam’s doing I don’t agree with. Trusting people like her ain’t gonna end well. But neither does keeping secrets. And if he’s going to do it it’s better we know about it. And you trying to keep the peace by keeping his secrets? It ain't gonna save either of 'em.’

‘So what do I do?’ she breathed.

‘You want to help Sam? You stop letting him play lone wolf,’ Bobby grumbled, ‘we get serious about helping Dean but we do it together. No more corners. No more whispering.’

‘Bobby,’ she sighed, overcome with just how quickly he’d stepped up to bat.

‘Dean told ya to look out for him right? This is how you do it,’ he promised, ‘and as for Dean?’

‘What?’ Lainey asked.

‘I know you think you’re doing what’s best with this whole make the most it schtick,’ he said, but his voice had got lower, thicker almost like he wasn’t sure this was a territory he should step into. It went against his ethos.

For so much of their time together he’d been there just to pick the pieces. Let her figure it out on her own and he’d be there if it didn’t work. But he wasn’t sure if he could do it this time. That she’d recover if the worst were to happen. That any of them would. So he had to try. Even if Dean wouldn’t.

‘I know it’s real easy for Dean to sit there and act like he’s at peace with dying. But he ain't the one who’s gonna have to bury him. We are.’

‘I know that Bobby,’ she started.

‘Do you? Then why are you givin’ up on him-’

‘I’m not,’ she promised fiercely.

‘Then prove it. Help us. We can do this kid,’ he said.

‘What if we can’t?’ she said, tears springing to her eyes.

‘Then we go down swingin,’ Bobby said firmly, ‘anything other than that we might as well just dig the damn hole now.’

 He looked away after that, letting his words fester in the air. Letting her wipe the tears that had fallen away where he couldn’t see them. But then she moved, climbing out of her seat until she was behind him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

‘Thank you,’ she said after a minute, sniffling into his ear. Bobby patted her arm softly.

‘Don’t mention it.’

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It was late when the boys got back. When she’d awoken the next morning, the day had been brighter, the last of the summer sunshine making the salvage yard hot and shiny like it always did though the mood inside stayed subdued. Bobby didn’t push her and she didn’t push herself, gathering strength to talk to Dean when he got home.

Because Bobby had been right. She was pulling herself apart because she wanted to keep them all together. But it wasn’t doing herself any favours.

She was sitting in bed reading when he finally came in. The old, heavy lore book she’d been researching under the light of her lamp was long forgotten the second he stuck his head around the door frame. He checked the room first, clearly trying not to make too much noise, but broke into a wide, relieved smile when he saw she was still up.

He was across the room in a flash, duffle dumped by the foot of her bed and boots kicked off beside it as he pulled her up and out of it. Lainey squealed and wrapped her legs around his waist as he kissed her before he placed her back down on the bed, lips never leaving hers as he fumbled blindly with his belt, kicking his jeans off into a pile beside his boots.

‘God, I have missed you,’ he breathed against her skin, his mouth trailing a desperate path down her jawline, his hands sliding up under her shirt.

‘Dean,’ she grumbled, a shiver running through her as his lips brushed near her belly button.

‘Nope, needed this,’ he grunted against her skin. But he only got as far as the hemline of her shorts before she stopped him, sighing, ‘stop it, c’mon,’ and tugging on his hair to make him look up at her.

‘Spoilsport,’ he grumbled. Lainey just smiled and tugged his t-shirt, pulling him back up towards her, his eyes still dark with want.

‘Can’t have you getting too overexcited,’ she said, her hands teasing through his hair, ‘an early finish would harm your game average.’

‘That right?’ he mused, pressing a kiss just below her jaw, his voice low as he said, ‘and what about yours? What happened to reminding me who I was coming back to?’

Lainey giggled and pushed him off climbing into his lap as he sat back and looked up at her, his hands finding her ass.

‘That was just to get you back here,’ she grinned, slowly tracing a finger along his jaw, ‘my gratitude is entirely based on how well the job went.’

‘That so?’ Dean asked, his eyes darkening.

‘Mmmhmm,’ she said, shifting her weight slightly against him and making him tighten his grip and pull her closer. Lainey dropped her voice to something throatier ‘and uh, considering you lost the rabbits foot-’

‘Sam lost the rabbits foot,’ he corrected.

‘And the scratch-offs?’ she challenged, something she’d heard him grumbling about when she’d called Sam for a status update to see whether she should bother going to bed or not. Not that it mattered given she’d waited up anyway.

‘Technically you can’t lose what you never had,’ he shrugged, ‘besides Sam’s the one who dropped the ball. He got shot.’

‘What?’ Lainey exclaimed, her eyes going wide, but Dean just gave her a pointed look.

‘Bela,’ they said in unison. Lainey sighed, her disdain for the woman growing exponentially, and she hadn’t even been there to witness it.

‘Least you know what she’s like now,’ she said.

‘Yeah, she’s a real pistol,’ Dean said sarcastically.

He went quiet for a second after that, his fingers dipping down to fiddle with the drawstring of her shorts. He twirled the cotton string around his finger, pulling it slightly away from her stomach to reveal a hint of dark underwear. The sight threatened to make his mind lose the thread of the conversation entirely. But he didn’t let it. He couldn’t. When he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly beneath her, Lainey's brow furrowed.

‘Yeah, and uh…speaking of untrustworthy bitches,’ Dean admitted, his voice losing its teasing edge, ‘Sam told me about Ruby.’

Lainey felt the wind rush completely out of her sails. The entire day she’d spent building up the courage for all she wanted to say suddenly fell flat.

‘He did?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said, looking at her knowingly which meant Sam must’ve told him everything, ‘and as demons go-’

‘Wait,’ Lainey paused, her hands flat against his chest as she pushed herself up, her eyes wide, ‘she’s a demon?’

Dean hesitated; his finger still hooked around the drawstring as she huffed a sharp, bemused laugh. Of course, Sam hadn’t mentioned that vital little detail. And she’d spent the whole day feeling guilty for doubting the girl. She’d felt like they were just getting in their own way when it came down to saving Dean. As Lainey rolled her tongue across her teeth irritably Dean replied, ‘Sam didn’t tell you that bit huh?’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Lainey said bitterly.

‘Yeah well, he gave me the long and short of it. All wrapped up with the company line that it’s fine as long as we don’t trust her fully. Says that she can get me out of my deal yada yada,’ he said, the heavy weight of defeat lacing his voice. The sound of it pulled her out of her head, ripping her away from irritation and annoyance at Sam. Lainey frowned.

‘You don’t think we should work with her?’ Lainey asked quietly.

‘Of course not,’ Dean scoffed. But she didn’t look like she agreed, she looked disappointed. He sat up further, careful to hold onto her so they were eye to eye.

‘You do?’ he asked, searching her face and finding it frustratingly unreadable.

‘No,’ she said but Dean didn’t look like he believed her for a second, ‘but he’s right.’

‘About?’ Dean pressed.

‘Getting you out of your deal,’ she reasoned, Dean rolled his eyes, but she pressed on, her voice rising irritably, ‘what? I’m not saying to trust her, but we need to do something Dean! We’ve left it to Sam and now he’s running around with demons! And you know he won’t stop-’

‘Lainey,’ he sighed, his jaw tightening.

‘Do you really wanna die?’ she challenged.

‘Of course not!’ he snapped.

‘Then act like it!’ she cried angrily, shoving him hard in the chest. But he just stared at her, his jaw ticking, his eyes going stone-cold and hard. Like she was being completely ridiculous. Like if he just stayed silent long enough, she’d bend to his will and drop it.

Lainey scoffed, shaking her head in pure frustration as she scrambled off his lap and retreated to the far end of the bed. Dean let out a long breath and scooted across the mattress to where she was sitting. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes fixed entirely on his duffle bag by her feet. When Dean reached out, gently brushing the hair off her shoulder, she finally looked at him, her eyes big and glistening with unshed tears as she whispered, ‘I can’t do it. I can’t lose you.’

‘Baby,’ he said sadly.

‘Please, please say you’ll try,’ she pleaded, her hand finding his thigh and gripping it tightly. Dean closed his eyes and sighed and the silence hung between them, thick, heavy, and aching.

He wanted to say yes. That he’d do it; he’d do anything for her.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t force himself too and he knew why. He could feel the truth being tugged right out from deep within his chest, the way she always managed to pull things out of him. But when he spoke the words came out small and hollow like they were struggling to find their feet given it was the first time he’d spoke them out loud.

‘What if I do?’ he said quietly, opening his eyes to look at her, ‘what if we try and it’s not enough? What if we do everything and I still die.’

‘But what if you don’t,’ she whispered, hope coating every syllable. Dean looked at her, still unable to believe the faith she had in him after everything they’d been through. After everything he’d put her through. Lainey sniffled, wiping at her nose.

‘Besides, if we don’t try, then you die anyway. At least this way we we’ll know we did everything we could,’ she said, her voice growing firmer, ‘isn’t that better than not trying at all. Isn’t that what you say? Go down swinging?’

‘And when I’m dead? When I’ve hurt you all over again because I’m stupid-’

‘Why do you treat it like I’m being held hostage?’ she bit, cutting him off. Dean stopped, completely stunned.

‘You say it like I don’t have a say in this relationship. Like I’m not choosing to be here,’ she challenged, ‘you gave me a choice Dean, remember? And I picked you.’

‘Knowing I’d die,’ he retorted sharply.

‘Except the Dean I fell in love with wouldn’t stop trying,’ she countered, ‘I’m choosing to be here Dean. You gave me the choice and I picked you. Us. So why aren’t you?’

Dean stood up abruptly, moving away from the bed angrily with his hands clamped on his hips, his back to her.

‘Don’t you care?’ she asked, following him out of the bed. She stepped into his space, stopping him in his tracks by placing her hands flat against his face, forcing him to look at her. Holding him steady, the exact way she always held him steady. He had talked her around to the idea of his death because it was easier than the alternative. Easier than failing. Easier than knowing he’d failed her again and again. At least this way he’d give her something good to remember, to love her the way she deserved while also keeping Sam alive in the process.

‘You know I do,’ Dean said, his jaw tight as tears finally brimmed in his eyes.

‘So try!’ she begged, her thumbs swiping at his cheek bones ‘trying-’

‘And if Sam dies,’ he challenged, his voice cracking.

‘And if he drives himself crazy because we’re pretending this isn’t happening?’ she shot back, ‘if losing you sends him off the edge? If it sends me-’

‘Don’t you say that,’ he threatened quietly, his eyes flashing. Lainey took a shaky breath.

‘We will find a way,’ she promised, her voice dropping into a fierce whisper, ‘without deals and stupid decisions and Ruby.’

But Dean didn’t say anything. He just went completely quiet, allowing a single tear to roll down his cheek, breaking Lainey’s heart into pieces.

‘Unless you don’t want that,’ she said, her voice suddenly trembling as the horrible notion hit her, ‘unless we don’t mean enough to you.’

‘Lainey you are everything to me,’ he whispered.

‘Then say it,’ she begged, ‘say you’ll fight for us. For yourself.’

He didn’t say the words out loud. Nothing escaped his lips. But he nodded just a fraction. Just a tiny, quiet concession.

But for now, it was enough.

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If you got a chance, take it, take it while you got a chance, If you got a dream, chase it, 'cause a dream won't chase you back, If you're gonna love somebody, Hold 'em as long and as strong and as close as you can, 'Til you can't.

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tags (dean/spn/lainey)