cait, she/her, 20s & uk based. I've been writing for nearly 10 years and reading for much longer than that. I write for anything and everything - usually whatever my current hyperfixation is. currently working on a long series but doing one-shots alongside it.
requests
requests are open - ask here (spn/j2/soldier boy/the pitt only, non anon)
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lowdown ☆ after the tower, you’re left with the fallout and the road ahead.
ride or die ☆ soldier boy x reader ( f )
miles ☆ 2436 ride style ☆ fluff 😌
danger on the trail ☆ post-finale aftermath, injury, temp v use, emotional distress, toxic dynamics, the end of a fucking era!!! notes at the end 😭
𐚁 .ᐟ masterlist ☆ listen to the playlist ☆ support my work ᢉ𐭩
the radio barely works.
it keeps cutting in and out beneath the rain, old guitar and static slipping through the speakers in broken pieces. every few seconds, a man’s voice finds the melody, holds it for half a line, then disappears again.
you should turn it off. you hum instead, low under your breath, because the car feels too quiet without something filling it. because if you stop humming, you’ll hear the tower again. glass giving way. annie shouting. ryan screaming. soldier boy’s roars, rough and ruined.
your hands stay locked around the steering wheel.
your wrist's swollen where the cuff bit in. your throat burns when you swallow, skin bruised beneath your jaw in the shape of homelander’s fingers. there’s blood under one sleeve, not all of it yours, and temp v still crawls ugly through your veins, leaving your skin too cold and your heartbeat too fast.
the highway stretches ahead, dark and wet. somewhere behind you, soldier boy is unconscious across the backseat. you check the mirror again. he’s too big for the car. boots jammed awkwardly against the door, one arm hanging half-off the seat, shield shoved into the footwell because you couldn’t leave it behind even though dragging it nearly made you sob from pure exhaustion.
his face's turned toward the window, slack in a way that still looks wrong on him. soot and blood mark the side of his neck. his armor's cracked open at the chest. breathing, though. you keep checking. breathing. that has to be enough for now.
the road blurs. you blink hard until the lines sharpen again. “not yet,” you whisper.
your fingers tremble on the wheel, so you grip tighter. ten and two, absurdly proper for a woman driving a stolen car with a wanted supe unconscious in the backseat. the thought almost makes you laugh, bur the sound doesn’t make it out.
the radio catches another few notes. you hum along badly. behind you, leather creaks. soldier boy jerks upright. not at all like waking. one second he's deadweight, and the next he's moving, sharp and violent, dragging air into his lungs like he's come up from underwater with his hand already reaching for a weapon.
you scream. “jesus, what the fuck?” the car swerves across the lane. tires hit the rumble strip with a grinding roar. your heart kicks into your throat.
soldier boy grabs the back of the passenger seat, eyes wild in the dashboard glow, and that only makes the wheel slip harder in your hands. “where the fuck—”
“sit down!”
“keep the car on the road!”
“i was doing that before you resurrected in my fucking backseat!”
you yank the wheel back. the car lurches, corrects, then straightens beneath the rain. for three seconds, neither of you speaks. the wipers scrape across the windshield. the radio hisses.
then he says, “pull over.”
you laugh once, too sharp. “of course. sure. already barking orders.”
“stop the fucking car.” the way he says it is different the second time. not barked. not cruel. strained.
you glance at him in the mirror and see that his eyes have dropped to your throat. then your wrist. then your shaking hands. your grip tightens around the wheel until your knuckles hurt. “fine.”
you pull onto the shoulder, gravel spitting under the tires, and shove the car into park. cold rain hits you the second you open the door. it feels good for half a breath, then awful. you climb out anyway.
your legs nearly fold. you catch yourself against the car. soldier boy's already out on the other side, unsteady for maybe one second before pride straightens him. he looks around the empty road, the wet fields, the dark line of trees beyond the shoulder. then he looks at you.
“where are we?” he asks.
“somewhere in pennsylvania. maybe ohio by now.” your voice comes out rough from homelander’s hand.
his eyes stay on your throat. “what happened?”
“a lot.” you swallow, and it hurts. “everyone’s alive.”
he goes very still. the rain ticks against the roof of the car. somewhere far away, a truck passes on another road, low and lonely through the night.
“even maeve?” he asks.
your chest tightens. you nod. “i think. she was breathing when they found her.”
his jaw works once. “homelander?”
“alive.” that hits worse. of course it does.
his face closes, and for a second he looks back toward the road behind you like he might try to walk all the way to new york with broken armor and blood in his hair.
“ryan’s alive too,” you add. “butcher. annie. hughie. mm. frenchie. kimiko. me...” his eyes come back to you. you almost make a joke. you’re too tired. “i’m here.”
he steps closer. “you took it.”
“i did.”
his expression hardens. “after i told you not to.”
“after you cuffed me to a radiator and destroyed the vial in my face.”
“to keep you alive.”
“that wasn’t your choice.”
he flinches. small. almost nothing. but you see it, and some mean, hurt part of you is glad.
“you left me there,” the words come out quieter than you expect. worse because of it. “after i promised. after i told you. you made me watch you walk away.”
rain runs down his face. he doesn’t wipe it. “i know.”
“do you?”
his eyes meet yours. there's no joke waiting in them now. no dirty comment. no easy cruelty to hide behind. “yeah,” he says. “i do.”
that fixes nothing. still, your throat tightens.
you look away first, toward the highway. toward anywhere that is not his face.
for a while, the only sound is the rain. then he asks, “in the tower. did you—”
“not on you.” the answer's immediate.
his jaw tightens.
you take one step toward him, even though your body protests. “i could have. when you were charging, when everyone was still too close, when i thought the whole floor was going to come down. the word was right there.” your voice cracks. “i didn’t say it.”
he looks away.
“i promised you,” you say. “and i kept it.”
his hand flexes at his side. you almost wish he would argue. it would be easier than watching him stand there with the truth pressing into him from every side.
“i used it on them,” you continue. “after.”
his eyes return to you.
“they were going to take you back.”
his face empties so fast it makes your stomach turn. “freezer?”
“nobody said the word.” you fold your arms, then stop because your ribs ache. “they didn’t have to.”
for a second, he's not on the highway with you. he's somewhere colder. somewhere metal. somewhere locked. you hate them for it, suddenly and completely, even though part of you understands. even though you saw him light up that room. even though you know how close everyone came to dying. you still hate them.
“you were unconscious,” you say. “maeve was down. homelander was gone. butcher was bleeding all over the floor and still trying to stand. mm was calling for containment. frenchie had the gas...” your throat tightens again. “annie looked at me like she was sorry.”
his voice is flat when he asks, “what did you say?”
you remember it too clearly. your knees on broken glass beside him. your hand against his chest, checking for breath. butcher swearing from somewhere behind you. mm reaching for your shoulder. annie saying your name in warning. frenchie’s face pale above the mask canister. your own voice cutting through all of it.
“i told them to stay back,” you say.
he watches you. “and they did?”
“yes.”
“all of them?”
“yes.”
“butcher?”
“especially butcher.”
something dark and almost satisfied crosses his face before pain swallows it.
“you carried me out?”
“dragged you. carried you a little. cursed your entire bloodline.” you glance toward the car. “took the shield too. you’re welcome.”
he doesn’t answer. he's looking at your wrist again. the cuff mark's ugly. red and swollen, rubbed raw in places from where you fought the radiator, then the door, then the whole goddamn world to get to him.
his hand lifts. you stiffen before you can stop yourself.
slowly, he lets his hand fall. the absence hurts more than the reach. “i’m not going to grab you."
“good,” you answer. “because i might hit you with the car.”
“with your driving, i don't doubt it."
it slips out before either of you can stop it. a tiny, stupid sound leaves you. not a laugh. close enough to hurt.
his face shifts like that sound does something to him. then his hands come up to your face. slowly. giving you time. you should step back. you're still angry. your wrist throbs because of him. your throat hurts because of homelander. your veins feel poisoned because you had to take the vial alone after he took your choice and called it love. but his palms settle against your cheeks, big and careful, and you're too tired to pretend it doesn’t almost break you.
his thumbs rest beneath your cheekbones. “you shouldn’t have come."
your eyes burn. “you shouldn’t have left me.”
his face tightens. “i know.”
it isn't enough. but it's the closest he has come.
“i’m still mad,” you whisper.
“yeah.”
“i might be mad for a while.”
“figured.”
“and if you ever handcuff me to something again, i’m commanding you to shave your beard.”
his face goes so still that, despite everything, a laugh breaks out of you. his eyes narrow. “that a threat?”
“a promise.”
“you promised not to use it on me.”
“tempt me.”
the old rhythm flickers between you, bruised and weak but alive. you feel it and hate yourself a little for needing it.
his gaze drops to your mouth.
the rain keeps falling.
“where are we going?” he asks, voice lower now.
“sioux falls.”
his brows draw together. “why?”
“i have family there. an aunt. sort of. long story.” you breathe in carefully. “small house outside town. old garage. she minds her business if i tell her to. we can stay a few days. figure out where we go next.”
“where we go next?”
your throat tightens.
there it is. the small, stupid word with teeth.
“unless you have somewhere better to be.”
his hands tighten on your face for half a second. “no.”
his thumb drags once along your cheek, wiping rain or tears or both.
“you stole me,” he says.
your mouth trembles around a smile that doesn’t fully form. “rescued.”
“stole.”
“fine. i stole you.”
“from all of them.” his eyes stay on yours. “why?”
there're a dozen answers. because they were going to freeze him. because you were angry. because he was breathing. because after everything, after every ugly choice and every wrong word and every time one of you used teeth because tenderness felt too dangerous, you still couldn't leave him on that floor.
you say the smallest true thing. “because i wasn’t done with you.”
his face changes. not much. never much. but you know him now, and it is enough. then he kisses you. it isn't gentle at first. not careful enough to turn the night pretty. he kisses you like he's furious at the rain, at the tower, at the fall, at your bruises, at himself. his hands hold your face the whole time, and that's the part that ruins you. not the force. not the heat. the holding.
you grip the torn front of his suit. then he makes a sound against your mouth, low and wrecked, and you melt. stupidly. completely. he kisses you until the rain is cold on your back and the car engine ticks itself quiet beside you.
when he pulls away, his forehead stays pressed to yours. neither of you says anything. there's nothing clean enough to say.
then he looks down at you and his face hardens again. “you're shaking. get in the car. i’m driving.”
you pull back. “absolutely not.”
“you almost put us in a ditch.”
“because you scared me.”
“women shouldn’t be behind the wheel.”
you stare at him. rain drips from his hair. he looks half-dead, bruised, burned, impossible, and completely serious.
you slap his chest. he doesn’t move. your hand hurts. “ow,” you mutter.
his mouth twitches. “that was pathetic."
“i'm withdrawing.”
“explains the driving.”
you point at him. “do not make me regret stealing you.”
“too late.”
you hate that it makes you smile. small. exhausted. real. you drop the keys into his open hand before you can change your mind. “one misogynistic comment about my navigation and i leave you at the next gas station.”
“you’d come back.”
“unfortunately.”
he closes his fingers around the keys and walks around the car with only a slight limp. you notice. he knows you notice. neither of you says anything.
you slide into the passenger seat and immediately regret sitting because every bruise introduces itself at once. soldier boy gets behind the wheel, adjusts the seat with an annoyed grunt, and glares at the dashboard like the car's personally disappointed him.
“piece of shit,” he mutters.
“free piece of shit.”
he starts the engine. the radio wakes with a burst of static, then finds the old song again. faint guitar. a voice you still don’t recognize. rain under the tires as he pulls back onto the highway.
for a while, neither of you speaks. behind you, new york is sirens and broken glass and people who will turn the whole thing into headlines by morning.
terrorist attack.
supe disaster.
vought tragedy.
they won't call it what it was. they won't know about the radiator. the second vial. the word you didn't say. maeve’s arms around him as the sky went white. your knees on broken glass while everyone stepped back because you told them to. his hands on your face in the rain.
they won't know that the world ended and kept going anyway.
sioux falls is still too far. temp v still burns under your skin. homelander's alive. butcher's alive. everyone you left behind's alive and furious and probably already hunting for the stolen car.
but soldier boy's breathing beside you. you're breathing beside him. for tonight, that has to be enough.
the radio clears for a few seconds, and you start humming again, quieter now. soldier boy glances over as one hand leaves the wheel. he extends it toward you, palm open, waiting. you slip your hand into his.
the road stretches out ahead of you, dark and endless beneath the rain, and this time, neither of you lets go.
liv's log ☆ and here we are... the last chapter of mouth like that 🙂↕️
i don’t really know how to write this without getting a little emotional, because this genuinely feels like the end of an era for me. i’ve been writing for as long as i can remember. since i understood myself as someone with too many feelings and nowhere else to put them, i’ve been putting them into words. writing has always been mine in that way.
but this was different.
tumblr wasn’t new to me, and writing wasn’t new to me, but having this much love and support for something i created? that was new. seeing your comments, your asks, your reblogs, your tags, your theories, your yelling, your suffering—it made me feel giddy in a way i genuinely don’t think i can explain without sounding insane. some days, it felt like being high. some days, when real life was awful and heavy and exhausting, i would open tumblr and read what you guys had said, and it would make me happy. actually happy.
and i know i made you suffer. i know the angst was evil. i know there were moments where it probably felt like things were going to be bad forever. but the fact that so many of you stayed with this story anyway means more to me than i can say.
mouth like that was supposed to be one drabble. one silly, stupid little scenario that got stuck in my head and refused to leave me alone. somehow, that turned into this huge, messy, emotional, unhinged thing with over 150 people on the taglist, and i still don’t know how to wrap my head around that. i am so so grateful to every single one of you who read it, commented on it, reblogged it, screamed at me about it, recommended it, or quietly came back chapter after chapter.
i’m also grateful for the friends i made because of this story. that might be the most special part of all.
this isn’t goodbye to soldier boy. i’m never going to stop writing for him/jensen, because apparently i have a sickness and the only cure is putting that man in increasingly deranged situations. but mouth like that will always be special to me. it was my first project that really became something bigger than i expected. my first story that made me feel that kind of support. my first “holy shit, people are actually here for this” moment.
so, from the bottom of my very dramatic little heart: thank you! thank you for reading. thank you for caring. thank you for suffering with me. thank you for making this story feel alive.
i’m gonna stop crying now.
here’s to more soldier boy stories, more unhinged nonsense, and whatever emotional damage comes next 🩷
hi angel!! i would love more jim halpert writings and had an idea for one: reader is newer to the office & has a crush on jim so they do small things to try & get him to notice them; i.e fancy perfume, refilling his coffee, playing footsies with him, sitting next to him in meetings all the time, etc. i would be really happy to see this in your writing style but if you dont do it thank you for taking the time to read this <3 love your writing & please take care of yourself ♡
aw i’m so sorry i’m not really writing for anything outside spn/the pitt atm
i also don’t write for anon anymore because of past issues (i do take requests and post them anon if asked but not anon in general)
pairing: sam winchester x reader, dean winchester x reader
word count: 5.1k
rating: explicit
summary: it makes me so uh I can’t get enough of it.
tags/ warnings: set in late 90s, pre-canon, ages have been shifted a little, implied, p in v sex, love triangles, almost kissing, i just know bobby's weary in this damn house,
notes: there's gonna be one more chapter after this but then i'm going to do a lil something additional because i cant choose and you'll never make me
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winchester wednesdays ☆ masterpost ☆ read on ao3 ☆ request a fic ☆ tag list
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Dean Winchester had never been in love.
He’d never seen the point. Falling in love was what regular people did. People who got to stick around and do normal things like dates, and prom, and all that shit he never had a shot at. Love wasn’t meant for kids who moved schools every eight weeks. Love wasn’t for people who lived out of motels and had to look after their little brothers. Love wasn’t for people who wouldn’t understand Dean had a duty, to the job and to his family.
Of course he’d known love. He loved Sam. He loved his dad. He had people who felt like family. Bobby. Pastor Jim. Caleb. But they were all rough around the edges. It was the kind of love that would give you a beer but not a hug.
Because love meant getting attached. And attached meant not wanting to leave. It meant going soft.
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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Will Dean and the Reader get together at all in Crush?
now that would be telling 👀👀
I will say I was not expecting the love this series had got and the more I wrote the more torn I got with who I want her to pick and I say that as a devout Dean girl. So I may have picked an ending that satisfies everyone (hopefully!)
the life and love of lainey legaré (part twenty-five)
fandom: supernatural
pairing: dean winchester x original female character
rating: mature
word count: 7.4k
tags/warnings: angst, arguing, set in bad day at black rock, bela talbot first appearance, dean's deal, dad bobby singer as always, chick flick moments
notes: ive been busy with crush i desperately need to get home to my wife lainey
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link to masterpost ❀ link to ao3 ❀ request a tag ❀ previous chapter
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Still Very Late August 2007
‘Dean. Dean. Dean!’
He could hear his name being called, somewhere beyond him. Somewhere beyond a dream of a sun-soaked beach and a bikini clad Lainey, who he could still feel pressed against him where she’d been since he’d finally closed his eyes. Where she wouldn’t be again for God knew how long given the persistence in Sam’s voice and the way he was shaking his ankle, yanking him from sleep with a disgruntled, ‘what?’
When he opened his eyes he found Sam was standing at the foot of their bed, now cast in low lamp light as Dean reached over and tugged the string to illuminate the room, and Lainey was stirring, pulling herself out of his grasp and pushing herself to sit up with a yawn as she wiped sleep from her eyes.
‘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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pairing: sam winchester x reader, dean winchester x reader
word count: 6.8k
rating: teen
summary: camo' jacket, robbing corner stores. hard odds to beat when you're on all fours.
tags/ warnings: set in late 90s, pre-canon, ages have been shifted a little, realisation of feelings, angst, fluff, love triangle is triangling, jealousy
notes: sam and dean forever giving frank and joe from the basement yard because wdym you cant see it
you've never seen that? open, OPEN YOUR EYES THEN THO DEAN
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winchester wednesdays ☆ masterpost ☆ read on ao3 ☆ request a fic ☆ tag list
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'Sam.'
Your voice was pathetically weak, attempting to sound forceful as his hand inched further up your dress. It was splayed against your thigh, his thumb teasing along the skin there. Again, the phone bleated at you.
'Sam,' you said, firmer this time, but it was still only enough to earn a low hum as his lips remained pinned against your neck. You reached your arm blindly behind you, trying to grab the receiver, but he kept tight hold of you, keeping it just out of reach from your grasp.
'Sam the phone,' you groaned, finally pushing him off. He huffed but pulled back anyway, his face annoyed but his eyes glinting with amusement. As you yanked it off the wall you rolled your eyes but scooted back into place so he could stand back between your legs, hands pressing back to your thighs in a second.
'Singer Auto Salvage,' you breathed, letting out a quiet sigh as Sam moved to kiss your neck again.
'Hey,' Dean said. You felt yourself tense.
'Hey,' you replied, your free hand coming up to plant itself firmly on Sam’s chest which forced him to detach again. Dean, you mouthed. Sam didn't say anything and you just looked away because you didn’t know what else to do. You hadn’t spoken about Dean over the last couple of days. In all honesty you hadn’t spoken about much at all since you’d been far too busy establishing yourselves in this new part of your relationship. The pair of you had only ended up in the kitchen because you had figured you better eat something to save you from withering away. But even that lasted all of ten minutes. Sam’s arms wrapped around you as you tried to cook which then led to a make out session on the kitchen table, likely to go further if the phone hadn’t started demanding your attention.
As Sam headed to the fridge, his back to you as he pulled a soda out, you watched him, wondering what was going on inside that head of his. You had done the same last night. The two of you had crammed yourself into your tiny bed and he’d fallen asleep, his arm around your waist, but you had just lied there, watching him breathing softly. A million thoughts had whizzed around your head, like they were doing now, but he’d been peaceful. He’d asked about Dean and you’d answered and that had seemed to be enough. At least until he was there, present and demanding between the two of you.
‘You alright?’ Dean asked over the line, a sudden edge of concern in his tone.
‘Uh, yeah, fine, why?’ you replied, trying to steady your breathing.
‘You sound out of breath,’ he said.
‘Oh, me and Sam were outside, had to haul ass to answer the phone before you hung up,’ you lied. Sam glanced your way, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips and you offered him a warning look in return, ‘so, what’s up?’
‘Nothing, just calling to check in,’ Dean said. You hesitated, wondering if you should offer to get Sam so they could talk. After all, this was the first time he’d called since they had left. Bobby had called a couple of times just to make sure the house was still standing, and from what he had said, Dean didn't have the time to because he was working flat out. Trying to get it done so he could get back was the sentiment that had lingered between you and your uncle, though neither of you had said it. But you didn’t know how that would go down so you just replied, ‘all’s good here. Is the case going okay?’
‘Yeah, nothing we can’t handle. We managed to get Ronnie patched up, and we think we’ve got a lead on the thing that got him so we should be done tonight,’ Dean explained.
‘Well, that’s good,’ you said, finally looking up when Sam reappeared. His hands returned to your thighs, his face hovering near yours as he watched you intently.
‘Yeah, so…we’ll probably be back tomorrow afternoon,’ Dean said, but you weren’t really listening anymore. You were too focused on how Sam’s lips brushed against yours, soft and deliberate. Your body leaned into him, your spare hand pulling on his neck to keep him close. On the other end of the line Dean called your name once, then louder.
‘You still there?’ he asked, his frown audible.
‘Sorry,’ you breathed, watching as Sam smirked wickedly. He tried to pull back but you gripped your fist tight in the fabric of his shirt, shooting him a warning look to stop him retreating.
‘See you both tomorrow, yeah?’ Dean asked.
‘See you then,’ you promised and then the phone clicked off, then dial tone calling out to itself as you dropped the receiver, letting it swing and hit the wall with a thud as you pulled Sam in to kiss you.
‘You’re a menace you know that?’ you said when you finally broke apart for air. Sam shrugged.
‘He interrupted first,’ he replied simply, then he moved his hand forward, teasing his finger along the outside of your cotton underwear, rubbing softly against you and eliciting a breathy sigh, ‘now, speaking of interruptions...’
He frowned when you grabbed his wrist and stopped him, sliding off the table so he was looking down on you.
‘Oh, I’m not stopping you,’ you explained, a teasing smile playing on your lips, ‘I just figure we’ve probably defiled enough surfaces in this house that it’s kind of unfair to do it where Bobby eats his breakfast.’
‘Good point,’ Sam agreed, a low chuckle escaping him as you took his hand and led him towards the stairs. He paused as your foot hit the first one though, making you raise an eyebrow in question.
‘Just wondering,’ he said, ‘even without dinner, I still get to eat something, right?’
Sam’s loud, booming laugh bounced off the hallway walls a second later, right after you smacked him hard across the centre of his chest.
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It was late by the time that Bobby and Dean got back. You weren’t sure if you’d stayed up for them on purpose, eager to see them after a few days apart, or if the temptation of ending up in the same bed as Sam for the fourth night in a row would be too overwhelming to risk. And that would only be asking to be grounded.
Either way you were happy when they walked in the door, Bobby looking weary, grumbling about heading straight to bed, and Dean looking tired until he spotted the two of you sitting on the sofa, a perfectly innocent and inconspicuous amount of space apart. Something that had only been negotiated when you’d heard the Impala rolling into the yard and Sam had peeled his head off of your lap. You could still see the way his hair was sticking up a little at the back from where you’d been combing your fingers through it just moments before.
‘Hey,’ Dean said as he entered the living room, dropping his duffle by the living room door but not moving to sit down.
‘Hey,’ you smiled softly, grabbing the remote and lowering the volume in anticipation, ‘how’d it go?’
‘Fine,’ Dean shrugged, perching himself on the edge of the armchair.
‘How’s Ron?’ Sam asked. Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck wearily.
‘He’ll live,’ Dean said quietly. You could see whatever he’d seen weighing heavily on him, his face looking older and more tired which made your heart hurt. You didn’t push for more; you didn’t want to know what had happened. You didn’t want to think about how you’d forced him to go and deal with it on his own whilst you and Sam had stayed here and enjoyed yourselves.
‘Did dad call?’ Sam asked tentatively. Dean looked at him then, something behind his eyes that you didn’t like. Something heavy and protective that made Sam shrink down guiltily.
‘Yeah, he checked in,’ Dean said, breezing past whatever answer he’d had in mind and clearing his throat as he shifted focus, ‘same old. Anyway, how was your weekend?’
‘Fine,’ you said quickly, offering him a bright and easy smile that aimed to plaster over every bad thought running through his head.
‘No ragers huh?’ he grinned.
‘Eh, we thought about it. Right, Sammy?’ you grinned. Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes.
‘Did you two at least find something to do?’ he asked. You felt your eyes flit to Sam, his smile becoming one of real amusement, a joke passed between the two of you that Dean didn’t see as Sam shrugged, ‘we amused ourselves.’
‘Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?’ you asked quickly, snapping Dean’s attention to you and off of Sam, who was smirking into the soda can he was sipping from. A total menace as always.
‘We already had dinner, but I could make you and Bobby something,’ you offered.
‘Nah, I think I’m gonna go get a burger or something,’ Dean said, standing up and rolling his shoulders to release the tension that had been stuck in them since Montana, then he looked at you, soft and waiting, ‘wanna come with?’
‘Sure,’ you smiled, getting up out of your seat before your gaze flitted to Sam who was watching you both.
‘Sammy?’ Dean asked.
‘Nah I’m good,’ Sam said.
‘Are you sure?’ you asked tentatively. Sam looked up at you, his eyes flitting to Dean for a brief second that made you hold your breath. Then he smiled, soft and warm, and nodded.
‘Alright, let’s roll,’ Dean said, heading for the door, looking over his shoulder as he called, ‘you want anything?’
‘Nah I’m good,’ Sam called back, reaching for the remote and turning it back up. You waited until Dean fully cleared the doorway, boots thudding through the hall no doubt to find Bobby and ask if he wanted anything. The second he was out of sight you turned, raced back across the room and leant down, giving Sam the softest most loving kiss you could muster in the time you had. When you pulled back, your eyes were glinting with excitement. You beamed down at him, your heart hammering against your ribs, before you quickly turned on your heel and followed out in Dean’s wake.
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‘You want chips?’ you asked, turning your head to where Dean was coming into the kitchen. He took a seat at the table, dropping his boots on the floor so he could slip them on.
‘What?’ Dean asked, looking up as he tugged and wiggled his heels against the back of the leather to get them on.
‘I’ve got sandwiches, turkey, bologna, and cheese. I've also got pickles and cookies,’ you said, gesturing to the stack of neatly wrapped items on the countertop, ‘do you want chips?’
‘Definitely,’ Dean grinned. You smiled back and then turned to finish up, grabbing a couple bags of chips from the cabinet. If you were being honest, you had expected him to be tired again today. The night he’d got back the two of you had spent an hour at the diner. It was mostly just you watching Dean scarf down two whole cheeseburgers and share his fries with you in the absolute loosest sense of the word, but you’d talked for a long time. About Ronnie. About the case. Not about John you noticed. Then you’d driven home in a comfortable silence and crept up to your respective bedrooms. He’d called your name as you’d reached your door and you’d hovered in the dimly lit hallway, waiting for him to say something, but he’d just smiled and promised that you’d do something fun in the morning.
It hadn’t panned out that way. He’d crashed worse than Sam only getting up well past noon, but you’d let him off the hook. His slumber had given you and Sam time to wean yourselves off one another, neither of you faring very well when it came to detaching from the other. But Dean had made it up to you, the three of you spending the night watching movies in the living room with a mountain of popcorn, their hands dipping in the bowl on your lap and bickering with one another about the logistics of the Ghostbusters and what they’d do if they were faced with Freddy Krueger. Neither film had been your choice, of course, but you hadn't minded one bit.
But today, today you were finally making it to the lake as promised.
It was funny how you and Dean had fallen back into rhythm. You’d expected it to be awkward, but it hadn’t been. In fact, the two of you seemed to have settled into something much better, deeper than what you’d had before. You no longer worried about everything you did around him, you didn’t need to. You were yourself because Sam let you be. And to his credit, he’d let whatever hang up about Dean he’d had go. But you supposed he had no reason to, not with your head full of him.
In fact, it felt easier now. Now you weren’t focused on impressing Dean at every turn you could be yourself. Granted you still favoured the new style you’d acquired but it was more genuine than try-hard. Besides, you quite like how Sam looked at you when you wore stuff like that. He was doing it now, when he came into the kitchen wearing shorts and a short sleeve t-shirt which seemed about as prepared as you could get either of them for a day in the sun.
He leant against the door frame, watching you as you grabbed a handful of sodas, a six pack of beers, and then the cool packs from the freezer. You didn’t notice him at first, not until you were bent over, bathing suit sitting pretty on your hips just above the waistband on your shorts, and felt his eyes glued to your ass which made you look back at him warningly. Sam just grinned and folded his arms across his chest in challenge.
‘Hey,’ Dean said as he finally looked up from where he’d been tying his boots, only just realising his brother was in the room.
‘Hey,’ Sam replied smoothly, still watching you as you stood up, kicking the top closed with your flip-flopped foot to avoid any more provocation.
‘Are you ready?’ you asked.
‘Yeah,’ Sam asked.
‘Got your bathing suit?’
‘Yeah, it’s a little tight though,’ he grumbled. It was bound to be, it had been sitting in the drawer in Bobby’s spare room since last summer when he’d last worn it and he’d grown at least three inches taller since then.
‘You could just wear shorts,’ you reasoned, ‘I’m sure no one will know the difference.’
‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed, standing up from the table and stretching provocatively, ‘besides, no one’s gonna be looking at you once I’ve got my shirt off.’
‘Is that right?’ you giggled.
‘Oh definitely,’ Dean grinned though before he could say anymore he got distracted by the phone ringing loudly for attention over on the kitchen wall. As he went to answer it you felt your eyes move to Sam who was just watching you, smugness in your face that made you blush and turn away. You moved to your bag, rechecking it had everything you were sure there was nothing you’d missed.
You only looked up when you heard Dean’s voice drop an octave, ‘oh, uh, hey Mandy.’
Your fingers stalled inside your bag, and you felt Sam’s eyes on your face, less amused now. You smiled at him and then moved to grab his book off the counter, stuffing it in your bag, ears trained on Dean’s conversation.
‘Yeah, no, I didn’t forget,’ Dean said, scoffing like such a thing was ludicrous, ‘no…it’s just I kinda have plans.’
He looked over at the pair of you when he said, watching as you straightened up, bulging beach bag under your arm, cooler dangling in front of Sam’s legs. Both of you patiently waiting. When you frowned, he muttered, ‘hold on,’ and placed his hand over the receiver, silencing whatever Mandy had replied like he didn’t care for it.
‘It’s Mandy, I kinda said we’d do something when I got back,’ he explained. When neither of you said anything and he shifted awkwardly, ‘but it’s fine. I can get out of it.’
‘Invite her,’ you said simply.
‘What?’ Dean said, his brow furrowing in confusion.
‘Yeah, what?’ Sam asked. You faltered, looking up at him self-consciously.
‘It’s a public lake,’ you said, shrugging to try and make it feel less uncomfortable, ‘the more the merrier, right?’
‘Right,’ Sam said hesitantly, scanning your face for that tell tale tightened jaw or hurt eyes that came whenever Dean had mentioned her before.
‘Uh, sure,’ Dean said, though he didn’t seem convinced. You nodded and slid your sunglasses down, patting Sam on the shoulder as you said, ‘come on. Let’s get this stuff in the car.’
‘Coming,’ Sam said as you headed off out the back door. He and Dean shared a curious look and then he followed after you, his mind gently ticking.
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You loved lake days. You loved the excitement of them, how everyone who’d turned up buzzed with restless anticipation. You loved how the summer sun felt against your skin, warming you to the bone only for the lake water to cool you right back down again. You even liked how the damp sand felt against your toes though admittedly after a couple of hours you had to concede that Sam and Dean had the right idea keeping their boots on most of the time.
When you were little, long before you’d moved to Sioux Falls and your visits had only fallen out of school time, Bobby used to bring you here. Back then it meant he had five minutes of peace, not worrying about you getting into something you shouldn’t up at the house, but it also gave you a chance to be normal. To tag along and play with normal kids. But as you’d gotten older and summers became the three of you, your desire to spend it with other kids vanished. It still hadn’t really returned though you had conceded to spend the day with Mandy tagging along.
She was okay, you supposed. A little rough around the edges, maybe, not that the three of you were in any position to judge anyway. And you found, she didn’t really muscle in on anything. When the three of you played with a cheap plastic bat-and-ball set you’d picked up on a whim at the market yesterday, playing a chaotic game of piggy-in-the-middle, she just sat on a beach towel and watched. When the three of you walked the shoreline looking for flat rocks for skipping, she insisted on staying behind to watch your stuff even though there wasn't much of value to be stolen in the first place. And when the three of you swam out into the deeper part of the lake, aggressively hurling the ball between yourselves, she simply sat at the edge of the wooden dock, just watching.
You didn’t know if she wanted to join in. You didn’t particularly want her to but then again neither did Dean it seemed. He made little effort, asking once and not fighting her when she gave an answer of no or offering for them to do something else.
Even her refereeing was half hearted, the three of you perched on the edge of the pier beside her, readying yourselves for her to say go before you started your race. It was something that had bloomed from Dean insisting he’d be able to beat both of you and not backing down until Sam had finally broken and climbed out ready to take him up on his challenge.
As you stood between them, their broad frames towering over you on either side, the jetty you were racing too suddenly felt so far away. You curled your toes over the splintered edge, waiting for Mandy to give her signal.
‘Ready?’ she asked, receiving three eager nods to her half-hearted question, ‘on your marks. Get set. Go.’
The words had barely left her mouth before Dean was diving in and you dove after him, body poised and careening clearly through the water. Sam took an immediate early lead, long arms dragging him elegantly through the water compared with Dean’s aggressive splashing. Though even chaotic it still took him ahead of you, his long limbs reaching further than yours ever could though you kicked furiously. They were both a full body length ahead of you by the time you got to the other side, Sam kicking off first as he started the home stretch back. Dean was slightly behind him, but he caught your eye as he turned, smirking as you failed to keep up. You could feel your legs burning by the time the other dock was in view. Sam was so near, a couple of stretches and he’d win the thing outright, and Dean wasn't too far behind him. Granted he was slower than Sam, agile but without the wingspan of Sam’s limbs that propelled him forward, whose hand touched the dock edge before either of you got near it.
But Dean was closing in on second place and without thinking you reached out, grabbed his ankle and yanked downward with everything you hand. The sudden pull stopped him mid stroke, propelling you forward as he sputtered under the water and a second later your hand touched the side of the jetty. Sam had climbed out and reached down to pull you out too, beaming as he pulled you up and into him, the pair of you celebrating with a wet hug. Dean broke the surface a second later, scowling fiercely and shaking his wet hair so that droplets spattered along the bone dry wood as he pushed himself up onto it, dripping wet and absolutely furious.
‘You cheated,’ he said, pointing an accusatory finger at you the second you and Sam pulled apart.
‘What?’ you said, feigning innocence.
‘You grabbed my leg!’ he persisted.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you said sweetly, wringing out the ends of your wet hair as you tried to feign casualness.
‘Yeah Dean,’ Sam chuckled, crossing his arms against his chest ‘what are you talking about?’
‘Traitor,’ Dean said scathingly, looking at Mandy for back up, ‘you saw right?’
Mandy just shrugged.
‘Well would you look at that,’ you grinned, ‘three against one.’
‘You cheated,’ Dean repeated.
‘You know I think the sun’s getting to him,’ Sam teased, looking at you in mock concern.
‘Maybe it’s his age,’ you said.
‘Losing his marbles,’ Sam agreed solemnly.
‘Oh, you think you’re funny,’ Dean said, coming towards you.
‘I think I’m hilarious,’ you grinned wider, darting behind Sam for protection. Dean smiled menacingly, his eyes locked on you, ‘oh don’t think Sasquatch here can protect you.’
‘Oh, I think he can,’ you said, ducking behind him. You planted your hands on Sam’s soaken hips, tilting him like a human shield between you and his brother. Sam allowed himself to be moved and Dean tried to dart around him, his hand catching your arm as you slipped it out of his way.
‘Come here,’ he grunted, his hand reaching for you again as he dodged around Sam.
‘Never!’ you giggled, pushing Sam into his brother as a barrier as you burst free from behind his back, shooting off towards the shore as you tried to get well out of reach. But Dean was quicker. He was on you before you could get a few steps, your legs leaving the ground as he scooped you up in his arms.
‘Dean!’ you squealed, hitting his shoulder in protest, but he just grinned smugly, marching you down to the edge of the pier.
‘Sam help!’ you cried as you passed but Sam just watched, snorting as Dean raised you up, dangling you above the edge. You instinctively grabbed onto his neck, watching as he looked at you, his eyes glinting and his mouth pulled up in a smirk.
But he didn’t let you go. Instead of dropping you he launched himself off the end of the deck, the two of you plunging into the depths of the murky lake. He let go as you submerged, bubbles and waves rushing around you but as you came up you spotted him, your hands pulling blindly against muscle, so much so that the moment he remerged, gasping for breath, you did too, your leg around his shoulder, pushing him down again. It was chaos for a minute before you both re-emerged, breathless but laughing.
‘Happy now?’ you panted, rolling your eyes once you could breathe again properly.
‘You deserved it,’ Dean shrugged. He watched as you swam closer, bobbing in the water, and he found his hand moving to hold your waist so you didn't float away.
‘Re-match?’ you asked, your eyes glinting with the challenge. Dean felt his heart flip-flop and a sudden rush of cold in his extremities, the feel of your skin on his hand and the glimpse of your bikini top cresting in and out of the water suddenly sending all his blood south. Dean swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight.
‘Nah,’ he said, his voice rough, ‘you’ll only cheat again.’
‘Me?’ you said, pressing your hand against your heart just where he was intent on not looking, ‘never!’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean said. He pushed you away, practically launching you towards the jetty to create some distance. To allow for some air to enter his lungs. You swam to it in two easy strokes, bracing your foot against the pole as Sam reached a hand down to help pull you out. Dean watched you ascend out of the water, bikini bottoms clinging to the curve of your ass which only served to make his little problem worse. Dean averted his gaze, bobbing in the tide, until you turned around, hand up on your brow as you watched him.
‘We’re gonna go back,’ you said, ‘are you coming?’
‘Yeah, not be a minute,’ he managed to force out, his voice even and as casual as he could muster. You nodded and then you and Sam headed down the dock back towards your stuff laid out on the shore. Dean watched you go, only stopping when you walked past Mandy who was still sitting on the edge of the jetty, watching the three of you. Dean smiled at her and then submerged himself entirely as if he was coming to swim towards her, hoping that the cold lake water would cure his little problem before it was time to climb out.
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You were busy getting everything out of the cooler by the time Dean finally made an appearance, trudging up the sand in damp board shorts, his torso mostly dry spare the occasional drips that came from his hair.
He watched you, knelt over the cooler, pulling things out with careful consideration before you spotted him coming towards you. He tried to ignore how your face broke into a smile the moment you saw him, reaching up to hand him a beer as he took a seat on the towels on the other side of the cooler.
'Where's Mandy?' you asked as you pulled a couple of saran wrapped items out from inside.
'She saw some friends,' Dean said, nodding his head and forcing you to look down the shore to where she was standing with a group of people. Mostly guys you noted, not that you said anything though your heart did a little hopeful leap that she might have found a better offer. You suppressed a smile and reached for a soda, Dean's eyes on you.
'Where's Sam?' he asked after a beat, only just noticing his brother was nowhere to be seen.
'Bathroom,' you answered.
'What happened to peeing in the lake like a man?' Dean teased. You looked up, your face wrinkled in disgust.
'Ew, you haven't,' you said, Dean grinned, 'Dean!'
'No,' Dean said, his voice suspiciously high, 'no!'
You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to stop yourself from smiling as he went back to sipping on his beer, a smug smirk on his face. Then you rolled your eyes and reached for two saran wrapped covered packages.
'Which do you want?' you asked.
'Huh?' Dean asked, looking at the bundles in your hand.
'Sandwich,' you explained, 'I've got turkey or bologna.'
'What happened to cheese?' Dean asked.
'Cheese is for Sam,' you said firmly. Dean eyed them both. He knew you didn’t like bologna but he didn’t either, he only ate it because it was cheap and he didn't have the option of being picky more often than not. But he knew if he picked the turkey you’d let him and scarf the rubbery thing down.
‘Which do you want?’ he asked.
‘I’m not having one,’ you said, looking embarrassed when Dean frowned, ‘I sorta forgot to make more after Mandy rang.’
‘You should eat,’ Dean insisted, ‘Mandy will be fine.’
‘Dean we invited her,’ you said, rolling your eyes, ‘we can’t just ask her to come and then eat everything in front of her.’
‘Alright let her have bologna,’ Dean said, taking the turkey from your hand, ‘me and you can split this.’
‘Dean it’s fine,’ you said dismissively but he wasn’t listening. He’d already taken the sub roll from its packet, his hands prying the thing gently in half before he offered the considerably larger half towards you. When you looked at it like it was a bomb Dean sighed and wiggled his hand, thrusting it closer until you took it.
‘Thanks,’ you said, a small smile tugging at your lips at the silly grin he gave you before he took an uncouth bite of his, chewing with exaggeration. You giggled and rolled your eyes before taking a small bite of your half. As Dean dove into the bag of chips you watched him.
He was different from Sam.
You'd always seen Sam as softer, physically even though you’d realised that wasn’t quite true from all you’d now seen. But in personality too. You saw Dean as larger than life, enrapturing. You’d seen Sam as reserved and gentle. But he wasn’t, behind that calm exterior he was encapsulating. Knowing and assured. Strong headed.
All the things you’d thought about Dean. Dean, who now you paid attention you realised wasn’t as bold as you thought. Who hid behind a smile and joke. Who would give half his sandwich so you didn’t go hungry and would make you smile so you didn’t feel bad about it. Who’d let you push him away, his only real friend. You realised that now. Errands on his own to feel useful. Mandy, who he didn’t seem to care an iota about, too busy trying to join in with you and Sam. Dean who wasn’t really a kid but not really an adult yet though you’d forced his hand to be. You felt a flash of guilt embroil the turkey sandwich in your stomach.
You dropped your eyes, fiddling with your pickle as it sat on the saran wrap, oozing juice and drying out in the sun.
‘How was your dad?’ you asked quietly. You felt Dean still imperceptibly before he shrugged.
‘Fine,’ he said, clearing his throat and taking a drink of his beer. You looked up at him through your lashes.
‘You didn’t get in trouble, right?’ you started, guilt clawing at your inside. When he didn’t say anything you looked up.
‘No sweetheart,’ Dean promised, his smile soft. You nodded. He had of course. Once his dad had realised he’d left Sam behind from a careless word from Ronnie he’d called to chew Dean out. Telling him that he was letting Sam get soft. That he didn’t need Dean’s cockiness and self assurance to get in the way of both of their training. That he needed to stop treating Sam like a child despite the fact that he was one. Dean was too, at least he still felt like one even if he wasn't anymore.
‘Good,’ you said decisively, but your voice dropped tinged with nerves that somehow seemed to have become a feature in your relationship somehow. Like arguments and distance that made his heart do that weird clenching thing. The flare of anger ebbing like a withdrawing tide replaced by despair when he realised he was alone again.
‘I’m glad you came today,’ you said quietly.
‘Like you could doubt it,’ Dean said, a dry laugh leaving his lips though you knew after this summer it wasn’t a certainty. You smiled and went back to your sandwich.
But Dean didn’t. He watched you. The way you tucked your hair behind your ear. The way you caught a splotch of mayonnaise off your lip with your finger. How pretty you looked when you did it. Bare faced, bedraggled hair from the lake water. He felt his eyes flit down to Mandy at the other end of the shore, still talking to some guy Dean didn’t care to know. Heavy makeup, short skirt. All the things he said he didn’t like though it was what he went for every time. Overt. Self assured girls who were down for whatever he wanted from them. Who wouldn’t get attached, who wouldn’t let him get attached. Who had never made his heart feel weird like you did right now. Even when you weren’t looking at him, your smile brightening as your eyes tracked on Sam who was trudging up to the pair of you.
‘Hey,’ he sighed once he was in earshot.
‘You’ve been forever!’ you chastised.
‘Bathrooms were miles away,’ he shrugged as he took a seat beside you, long legs bent in half as he leant his elbows on them.
‘That’ll teach you for being responsible,’ Dean joked. When Sam frowned, lost in the conversation, you just rolled your eyes and shook your head, picking the sandwich you’d made for him up off the towel clad ground.
‘Got your sandwich,’ you said, offering it out but pulling it up from his grasp like a suspicious mom as you asked, ‘did you wash your hands?’
‘Yes,’ Sam said, confused that you’d ask. When you remained sceptical he pressed, ‘yes!’
‘Hm,’ you said suspiciously, grinning at Dean as he laughed, ‘what can I say Winchester hygiene seems questionable. Sue me.’
You tossed it to him then settled back and took a few more chips from the bag between you. Quiet fell again as you ate, watching the waves lap gently at the shore. There wasn’t a need to talk. You were content just to be. It hadn’t been the summer you’d planned sure but you weren’t convinced maybe things had worked out for the better. You had Sam, and this deep enchanting between you that you got to navigate together. And you had Dean, different from before. Clearer. Better.
A summer of dreams.
Even if you’d started to feel the cool as the breeze picked up. As it blew through the wisps of drying hair on the back of your neck you felt yourself shiver, your skin pimpling though it was dry now save from your bikini that still sat damp on you.
Sam noticed almost immediately, his eyes landing on the way you tucked into yourself.
‘Cold?’ He asked, making Dean’s eyes flit to you.
‘Yeah a little,’ you admitted.
‘Here have my shirt,’ Dean said, reaching for the T-shirt he’d discarded and handing it over, just as Sam did the same, two black shirts thrust into your eye line before the pair of them looked at each other, neither wavering before they looked at you.
Sam watched you, something firm in his gaze.
Dean watched you, his eyes flickering to Sam just for a second.
‘I’m fine,’ you said, airily, picking your own up from inside your bag before you stood up, suddenly feeling a blush on your cheeks as you muttered, ‘be back in a minute. Need the bathroom!’
And then you headed off in search of a bathroom and something to soothe your racing heart, Sam and Dean’s gaze following in your wake.
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As the afternoon settled in and things descended into an easy pace Dean found himself breaking away from the group. He meandered back down the jetty, dipping his feet in the water and watching the lake as it passed by water lapping at his feet and children much younger than him and still excitable even at this hour ran along the shore.
It was easier to ignore that uneasy feeling inside him when you weren’t sitting beside him. Easy to focus on keeping his heart settled in his chest. He only stopped looking out at the expanse of the lake when he heard footsteps. When he looked up he found Mandy coming toward him and he offered a weak smile before he looked back out. She took a seat beside him, crossing her legs so that she was perched on the dock rather than submerged.
Dean didn’t say anything. They hadn’t said much all afternoon since she’d found another group of friends to attach to and he’d not been bothered by her absence.
‘It’s nice out here,’ she said after watching him for a moment.
‘Yeah it is,’ Dean said, finally looking at her.
‘Look Dean,’ she started, nervous though she didn’t have to be, ‘I didn’t mean to ditch-‘
‘You don’t have to do all that,’ he said, cutting her off, ‘we’re good.’
‘Right,’ she said uneasily, ‘if I’d known I was gatecrashing I wouldn’t have come.
‘You weren’t,’ Dean lied.
Mandy just looked at him pointedly.
‘Okay maybe we’re a little tight knit,’ he conceded. Mandy laughed a little .
‘A little? It feels like a need to learn another language to keep up with you,’ she replied. Dean's heart swelled a little at that. Then she sighed, ‘though I get it.’
‘Get what?’ Dean asked, his heart speeding up at the insinuation.
‘Why you asked me here,’ she said, breezing on when he looked lost, ‘I mean I can’t imagine spending the day watching your brother and his girlfriend fawn over one another is fun.’
Dean laughed, loudly.
When Mandy didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow it caught in his throat, his words came hurried out of his mouth.
‘She….Sam is….she’s not Sam’s girlfriend,’ he said.
‘Right,’ Mandy laughed, though she faltered when he frowned, ‘oh.'
‘Oh, what?’ Dean asked defensively.
‘You’re telling me you don’t see it?’ she asked.
‘They’re not a couple Mandy,’ Dean said, his gaze trailing over to the lakeshore. You were sitting on a towel, arms propping you up, face angled to the sun that was growing tired of the day. Your legs stretched in front of you and there, with his head resting in your lap was Sam. He was reading aloud, which was something Dean had noticed the two of you did now. Though admittedly he'd assumed it was because you had been trying to involve yourself in things Sam did so you had a reason to hang around him after your fight. Dean watched how his eyes kept flitting up and making sure you were still listening, how your fingers moved to his forehead, playing with his hair when he said something that got your attention and made you sit up to respond.
And then it was all he could see. Days spent together on Bobby's back porch or in rusted out cars. Walks to and from town. Dinners where the two of you had sat in silence and let Dean and Bobby talk. How you hadn’t wanted them to leave. Sam to leave. So bad he’d caved and let him stay behind and got his ass handed to him for it.
Because he loved you.
And you chose Sam.
‘If you say so,’ she sighed, patting his leg and raising herself up off the dock. Dean watched as she looked down at him sympathetically, ‘but I know how it looks when a guy likes you.’
And with a sad knowing smile she turned and walked down the dock leaving Dean with that twisted feeling in his gut.
okay hear me out but Older!dean as your boss and he fucks you whenever you do something 'wrong'
boss!Dean is a tough one for me because I genuinely can't work out if it would be like---
☆ boss!Dean who watches you like you're prey on your first day
☆ boss!Dean who questions everything you do, making you redo every report and stopping you in meetings just to see you get flustered
☆ boss!Dean who lets his fingers skim the hem of your skirt when he stands behind you, his fingertips brushing the back of your thigh
☆ boss!Dean who invites you into his office one day after work and doesn't even say anything before he's got you against the wall with his tongue in your mouth
☆ boss!Dean who makes you wear shorter skirts and tighter shirts as eye candy to get him through his day
☆ boss!Dean who gets you to ride his thigh and then laughs at you when you cum
☆ boss!Dean who makes you give him blowjobs whenever he's on video calls- or just makes you sit under the desk with his cock in your mouth but doesn't let you do anything about it
☆ boss!Dean who fucks you against the window in his office because 'it's so high up no one will see' but you just know he's doing it to show you off
☆ boss!Dean that knows you'll do anything for him, fucking you in more and more obvious places hoping you'll get caught
~ OR ~
★ boss!Dean who's known to be tightass professional suddenly stuttering through meetings whenever you're there
★ boss!Dean who finds every opportunity to get you in his office but forgets his own excuses as soon as you walk in
★ boss!Dean who has to hold folders in front of him when you're around because his hard on is so obvious in his slacks
★ boss!Dean who feels like a creep even just talking to you because he's so down bad
★ boss!Dean who is shocked when you make the first move and it's obvious you've been feeling like this for a while
★ boss!Dean whose cheeks go red whenever you make a suggestive comment (let's be real- at this point everybody knows what's going on, he's not exactly subtle)
★ boss!Dean who has to be convinced to have sex in the office- but can't resist, large hand pressed over your mouth to keep you silent as he fucks you in the supply closet
★ boss!Dean who cums in his slacks before you even get his dick out when you hide under his desk during a meeting
★ boss!Dean who goes down on you on his desk for hours after work- just loving the feeling of you tugging at his hair and becoming undone on his tongue- and then freaks out when he thinks there's someone else still in the building
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pairing: sam winchester x reader, dean winchester x reader
word count: 6.1k
rating: explicit
summary: i only want him if he says it first to me
tags/ warnings: set in late 90s, pre-canon, ages have been shifted a little, smut, loss of virginity, p in v sex, oral sex, unrequited feelings, oral sex, jealousy, mentions of birth control, safe sex, fingering, confusion, john winchester (derogatory)
notes: feel like every chapter pendulum swings between my boys but this one’s for the Sam girls
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winchester wednesdays ☆ masterpost ☆ read on ao3 ☆ request a fic ☆ tag list
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Much to your surprise Dean didn’t displace Sam in your life. You’d half expected it to happen. Though whether it was your desire to keep things the same or the change in the nature of your and Sam’s relationship that made it harder to Dean to force his way back in you weren’t sure. Maybe you had just moved on from Dean so that he fit comfortably at the edge of your life, not the centre of your world like he had been previously.
But you also sensed a change in Sam, a determination somehow. He didn't move out of the way like he used to. He had a quiet confidence that Dean seemed to realise he had to fit around instead of you two fitting around him. It was like he’d seen his place and decided he wasn’t giving it up.
Of course that could’ve been due to the fact that his place in your life now reaped many, many benefits, even if it had become a little harder to coordinate the time for such things now Dean was around. But he had moments where he wasn’t there. Moments where the two you clung together. In your room, on walks, in the back of an old beat-up Ford truck. That last one had been because you had spent the whole day with Dean. He’d not let up at all, well at least until Mandy had called. He’d actually turned her down at first, but you and Sam had insisted you weren’t doing anything more than watching TV and that he’d be bored if he stayed. Watching TV had actually turned into you coming apart on Sam’s tongue, legs up on the bench seat and the dashboard as he took painstaking care to make you melt into the leather.
Granted you still hadn’t gotten further than third base but neither of you felt like there was any rush to do more. At least until one late July morning when you came downstairs and found Dean perched on your uncle’s desk, talking to the man over it, his voice low and serious.
He looked up as you came in, stalling at the threshold, acutely aware that you’d walked in on something. But then he offered you a smile and said nothing, allowing you to head to the kitchen. Your suspicions heightened when Bobby came through, making himself a cup of coffee and watching you closely though he pretended he wasn’t.
But you didn’t know it was serious until Sam finally came downstairs. He was still half-asleep, dragging his feet the way he always did whenever he was forced out of bed before noon. Still, you couldn’t deny even sleep-ridden he looked devastatingly adorable. T-shirt wrinkled, pyjama pants hung low on his hips in a way that made you stare when he reached into a high cabinet for a bowl and a smile to bloom on his face when he caught you, too sleepy to tease but enough that you blushed and looked back to your cereal.
But then it changed.
Bobby came in and rested against the counter, followed by Dean who hovered by the doorway, like whatever he was about to tell you needed the opportunity of an open door.
‘Hey,’ Sam greeted, his voice rough. He had been reaching for the milk but before he could wrap his hand around it, he sensed the atmosphere in the room, looking between the two men for a second before he asked, ‘what is it?’
Dean hesitated, looking at Bobby who moved his shoulder the smallest inch in a shrug. Sensing he wasn’t going to get any help explaining, Dean sighed and said, ‘we’ve got a job.’
‘What?’ Sam asked.
‘Dad called, said he needs our help,’ Dean explained, his voice flat, ‘he got a call from another hunter who needs help up in Seattle, but he can’t cover it ‘cause he’s still working a job.’
‘So?’ Sam said, his jaw tightening.
‘So, he wants you to handle it,’ you finished for him. Dean looked at you and nodded.
‘Do you have to?’ you asked, feeling your eyes flick to Sam, watching his face go harder, before they landed back on Dean.
‘Yeah,’ Dean said. Of course. John called, Dean answered. The boys left. Sam left. But you still had summer, you still had time. You and Sam hadn’t even. You pushed that from your mind. It was something that didn’t seem to be registering with Sam anyway, he was lost in the cruelness of being pulled away again so soon.
‘Does Sam?’ you asked, feeling unbelievably selfish when you saw Dean’s face falter for a second.
‘Dad asked,’ he said, not an answer.
‘Yeah, but you’ve hunted on your own before, right?’ you reasoned. Sam let out a low sigh, murmuring your name in a warning tone, but you ignored him.
‘I’m just saying! We were supposed to have summer,’ you reasoned, looking at Dean who shifted guiltily, ‘all of us.’
‘You knew it might be this way hon,’ Bobby said gently from the sidelines, his voice gruff but not unsympathetic. You scowled deeply in his direction.
‘Yeah, but it’s not fair,’ you snapped.
‘When is it ever?’ Sam huffed. And for some reason that, the defeat in Sam’s voice, hit harder. You scowled at him and pushed your chair back with a heavy scrape along the floor.
‘Whatever. Just tell me when you’re leaving, I guess,’ you muttered bitterly. Sam sighed. Bobby closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. And Dean called your name softly and tried to grab hold of your arm as you passed by, but you kept it firmly out of reach, bolting past him and stomping upstairs.
You dropped straight onto the floor once you were in your room, pulling your knees tightly against your chest and resting your back against the mattress as you stared blankly at the opposite wall. You hated John Winchester. You absolutely hated the life he forced on them. You hated how those boys never had a real home, and how the closest thing they ever had to one could be ripped away from them on one man’s selfish whims. You hated yourself for being petulant. You hated yourself for wanting to sacrifice Dean for the task, using him like a tool to keep Sam close, the way he’d hated to be treated. And you hated Sam too, just a little bit, for not fighting harder to stay.
When the knock at the door came you didn’t answer. You just hugged your knees tighter. You knew you probably should answer it, that if you didn’t come out then they would probably have to leave without you saying goodbye which you would regret forever. But fortunately manners weren’t the top priority of the knocker as evidenced by the fact they came right through it a second later. You’d expected Sam, an apologetic look in his eye that would only serve to make you feel guilty about being so hard on him when he wouldn’t want to leave in the first place.
But it was Dean.
He offered you a small, tentative smile as he poked his head around the door and a sigh as you looked away stubbornly. But he didn’t leave, he just came and sank down onto the floor beside you. Somehow, he managed to look bigger than Sam in your space though there wasn’t much difference between them. His shoulders felt broader, his frame more solid, his aura completely overwhelming as he looked at you with heavy, sad eyes.
‘You okay?’ he asked after a long moment of silence. When you finally looked at him, his eyes were soft and full of concern.
‘Yeah, I just…I don’t want you to go,’ you said quietly.
‘I know,’ he said softly. You sighed and he sat back, leaning his head against the mattress as the air settled in heavily around you. Then without thinking you found your head falling onto his shoulder, your hand slipping into the crook of his bicep, your voice low and uneven as you asked, ‘do you really have to?’
‘You know we do,’ Dean sighed. You sighed too and nodded against his arm.
Dean hated this. Hated that you two had just gotten back on track and he was being forced to leave. Hated that he’d spent the summer playing grown up and now it was time to be one he didn’t want to. Hated how he’d pushed you away so much you now wanted Sam to stay behind instead of him, if only because you knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of it.
You pulled back, looking up at him with those big sad eyes, ones that made Sam’s puppy dog look seem weak in comparison. Granted he hadn’t used them in the talk they’d had downstairs; Sam had been angry and despondent but he knew better than you that there was probably no point in fighting it. Still, it made Dean’s heart ache in his chest.
‘Sam can stay here,’ he said after a moment.
‘What?’ you breathed, your brow pulling down in that cute way it did whenever you got confused about something.
‘Sam can stay here,’ Dean repeated though he didn’t know why. He knew he probably shouldn’t. He knew his dad would raise absolute hell when he found out, but looking at you right now, he found he didn't care. Not if it made you stop looking so sad, ‘if you want. I’ll go alone.’
‘Dean,’ you sighed but he just pressed on.
‘Maybe even take Bobby with me. Then I’ll come back and we can do summer like we said,’ he said quickly.
‘But your dad,’ you said, the idea of it tugging at something deep in your chest. A spark of hope you didn’t dare let yourself have.
‘He just wants the case done, it’ll be done,’ Dean said dismissively, though it wasn’t as simple as that and you both knew it, then he shrugged, ‘he’s stuck out in Mesquite anyway.’
He didn’t say what that meant. Didn’t say how his dad would just dump it on them, expect them, him, to handle it. Didn’t talk about the careful manoeuvring it would take on his part to get around that. Hell, he’d probably need Bobby to help just with covering it up. Maybe he could lie, say the old bastard was concerned about whatever hunter it was that’s why he came along.
But whatever worrying he’d been doing he was pulled from as your face split into a hopeful grin.
‘Really?’ you asked.
‘Yeah,’ he smiled, ‘I meant what I said. You and Sammy deserve a summer.’
‘So do you,’ you countered softly, a twinge of guilt lying heavy inside you at how excited you felt about the prospect of a few uninterrupted days with Sam. About Sam not leaving.
‘Eh, it’s fine,’ Dean dismissed.
‘When you get back, we’ll do a day at the lake, just the three of us,’ you promised fiercely.
‘Alright,’ Dean nodded, his eyes locked on yours. You placed a hand on his thick bicep to help balance yourself as you stood up, and Dean’s fingers instinctively latched onto your elbow, guiding you upward as you began to ramble happily.
‘And we could go to the movies,’ you said, pulling him up after you. Dean allowed himself to be tugged upward, ‘there’s a new one out you’d like. We could have a full day there too, but we’ll have to drag Sammy outta bed early.’
‘Sounds good,’ Dean said, watching you closely. You paused the moment you felt the shift in the air, your happy rambling dying out in an instant. The space between you suddenly felt entirely too small again, and without thinking you moved forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head buried in his chest.
‘Thanks Dean,’ you said, into the cotton of his t-shirt. Dean felt his hands hesitate before landing softly on your back. He pulled you just a fraction closer, his eyes closing tight for a long beat as he rested his chin against your hair.
‘No problem sweetheart.’
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‘You’re sure you’re okay with this?’ Dean asked, watching the two of you on the porch. Bobby huffed from where he’d shoved his heavy duffle into the Impala’s trunk.
‘Isn’t that a question you should be asking me, not them?’ he called out.
‘Worried we’re going to throw a rager old man?’ you teased.
‘Nah, Sam would call the cops on you before he’d let that happen,’ Dean grinned, coming up the steps. Sam rolled his eyes.
‘How come he gets the reputation as the good influence?’ you complained looking at Sam. Bobby slammed the trunk shut with a heavy thud and looked at you, ‘are you telling me I shouldn’t trust you two alone here?’
‘Have you left your beers behind?’ you challenged, trying to ignore the way you heart flipped flopped at the insinuation and the way Sam moved imperceptibly closer to you, his hand brushing near your thigh, his face unmoving as he watched Bobby.
‘No,’ Bobby said flatly, walking toward the house.
‘Then you’ve nothing to be worried about,’ you grinned. Bobby rolled his eyes and came closer, trudging up the porch stairs, brushing his cap up a tad so he could eye you both properly.
‘You got the numbers?’ he asked.
‘On the fridge, exactly where you left them,’ you said.
‘And you know how to answer the phones, right? All the aliases,’ he said, though you’d done it a million times before.
‘Yep, and I’ll redirect anyone that needs you to your cell,’ you promised.
‘We’ll call with the motel number too,’ Dean added, stepping up onto the top step beside his brother. You folded your arms across your chest.
‘You know we have been left alone before,’ you said, looking between them.
‘Excuse me for worrying about two idjits in my house unsupervised,’ Bobby huffed, but then he leaned forward and pulled you into a hug. You let him, intentionally rolling your eyes for Dean to see which made him suppress a smirk before the older man pulled back. Bobby patted Sam on the shoulder and then pointed at you, ‘if you do throw any parties, at least make sure no one uses a damn shotgun, won’t you?’
‘I think you’re safe,’ you grinned. Bobby’s face turned serious, ‘no target practice, got it.’
When he turned away and headed for the car Dean stepped in his place, bringing Sam in for a hug which was more of a headlock and caused him to huff and push him off, muttering, ‘god, you’re annoying.’
‘I know. How will you cope without me?’ Dean mused, glancing his fist off of Sam’s jaw.
‘It’s character building,’ you teased, getting Sam to look at you as he batted his brother’s hand away, ‘how would you cope with me for a weekend without years of training beforehand?’
‘See? She gets it,’ Dean said, grinning when Sam did too. Then he turned his attention to you. He stepped back, lowering himself by one step so that you were basically eye to eye, his smirk softening to something less playful.
‘Look after him, won’t ya?’ Dean asked, half teasing, half not. You rolled your eyes and leant in to hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your cheek pressed to his as his hands skimmed your waist, holding you in place for a long second.
‘Sure will. A little water and a sun-facing shelf and he’ll be fine, right?’ you chuckled, the vibration of it humming against his jawline.
‘That’s the one,’ Dean laughed softly. Then he pulled back, letting you go. He looked at Sam and nodded and then at you and smiled before he turned and strode down the steps towards where Bobby was waiting in the car.
The two of you stood side-by-side on the porch, watching as Dean slid into the driver's seat and then started up the engine, going at a slower pace than you had ever seen the car go before he turned out of the edge of the lot and disappeared into the bright sunshine.
Now you would like to say that the Impala’s dust had not even settled before you and Sam had locked yourself away in your bedroom. You had fully expected to. You’d thought that the flash of those red tail lights disappearing around the bend would be the last thing either of you saw of the outside world for the next seventy-two hours.
But it wasn’t.
He didn’t grab your hand or pull you close. Sam just looked down at you and smiled, something you couldn’t register behind his eyes and then he headed into the house.
And then he didn’t avoid you as such, but you could feel something between you. It made you nervous, but you figured he might just be nervous now that the prospect of sex lay on the table. You knew if you were finally going to cross that line now was the ultimate opportunity. Before they came back. Before there were distractions and prying eyes. No Bobby in his study right below your bedroom. No Dean following you around, his big dopey head pushing between the two of you when you sat on the porch, sitting beside you and pretending he was interested in what Sam was reading aloud to you. Or him taking you into town before Sam pulled himself from bed, letting you put your feet up on the dashboard, waiting for you to notice his glare before he just rolled his eyes and turned the radio up louder.
It was just the two of you. But you didn’t want to push him.
So, you spent your afternoon as you normally would and then you made dinner, nothing fancy, just a couple of pizzas and the cookies that you had made yesterday when you and Dean had gotten back from town after a lot of pleading on his end. And then, you had just sat there, silent and watching the TV, the colours moving mindlessly in front of you, your hand resting gently between the pair of you on the couch cushions. Untouched.
You waited out the silence for as long as you could bear it. But eventually, a weird, hollow ache started to settle deep in your stomach and so you pushed yourself up, handing him the remote with a tight smile as you said, ‘I’m gonna go take a shower.’
‘Oh, okay,’ Sam said, taking it from you, a small curt nod following. You felt your stomach flip flop but nodded anyway and then headed upstairs.
You spent a long time in the shower, mostly standing under the steaming water debating whether or not you should shave. You figured you probably should, though you didn’t actually know if it made a blind bit of difference. Sam had never really seemed bothered by it before, and then you were struck with the idea of shaving letting him think that you had planned for it which somehow seemed worse. In the end you decided not to. You climbed out of the tub, careful not to wet your hair since you couldn’t be bothered to wash and dry it, and towelled off. You put on your pyjamas and then stood in the middle of your room, debating whether or not to go back downstairs.
Only before you could make a decision there was a knock at the door. Unlike his brother Sam didn’t barge straight in, he waited until you softly called for him and then poked his head around the door before finally moving into the room. His breath caught when he saw you. You had your hair up and were wearing a t-shirt he was sure used to belong to him and a pair of sleep shorts. Nothing like the new look you’d crafted for yourself and yet you still looked beautiful.
‘Hey,’ you said, offering him a soft, tentative smile.
‘Hi,’ Sam said, suddenly feeling nervous.
‘I was just about to come back down,’ you said, feeling the need to ease whatever tension had mounted.
‘No, I know I just…’ he trailed off, taking a slow, deliberate step closer to you. You didn’t move to him, you just watched, uncertain whether he’d take the lead or not. He stopped just short of you, his expression uncertain until he reached forward, fingertips tracing along your waist.
You stayed there, watching him, watching whatever battle was going on in his head. Whatever argument was winning out up there was immediately made clear when he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. It was gentle, just brushing against your lips and yet it made your heart hammer, your body pressing against him as you wrapped your arms up around his neck. He kissed you deeper then, pushing you back until your thighs met your desk. He lifted you up onto it without breaking the kiss, his lips moving quicker, his tongue probing yours as you tried to arch yourself into him. He only broke away when your hands went to the bottom of his shirt. He was breathless but so were you. His hands pressed to the top of the desk either side of your hips, trapping you though there was nowhere else you wanted to be. You let your hand trail across his jaw, and he watched you before he hung his head and pulled away.
‘Sam, what is it?’ you asked, your heart clenching in your chest when he looked out at your room and not at you, hands slung on his hips like he was thinking. You slid off the desk, your bare feet hitting the floor, and placed a gentle hand on his forearm. He stopped pacing, looking up at the ceiling as if he were trying to find God up in the drywall to explain whatever this was.
‘We don’t have to do anything,’ you promised, ‘I’m not expecting you to if you’re not ready.’
‘Do you like Dean?’ he asked suddenly, finally turning his head to look directly at you.
‘What?’ you breathed, your heart hammering loud enough you were worried he might hear it. Sam looked at you, watching every flicker on your face.
‘Are you...I mean…do you like Dean?’ he pressed.
‘Sam why would you even ask me that?’ you said, making your voice sound firm though you knew it wasn’t an answer. Sam just looked at you. No explaining, no questions. Silent communication the way you used to excel at.
The thing was you didn’t know.
You’d put the idea of Dean to bed. Your self-prescribed exposure therapy had worked to an extent; you didn’t fawn over him the way you used to when you were younger, but the dynamic between you had never quite settled into what anyone would consider a typical friendship. You wondered if it ever would, or if you just needed more time away from him. Time with Sam.
‘Me and Dean had an argument,’ you started slowly, trying to piece together the truth as much as you could, ‘a stupid fight about nothing, and I got pissed and petty, and I ignored him.’
Sam just watched you closely, his expression unreadable.
‘And I’m not going to lie, at first, I started hanging out with you more because I was avoiding him,’ you admitted, Sam's face didn’t change but his jaw clenched tighter, ‘but after that? Sam, I like you. I really like you. And I know it’s weird because we kinda never really noticed it before this summer. I know we said this was just fun, but…I really do like you.’
‘You sure?’ Sam asked quietly. You moved forward, placing your hands firmly on his hips. He didn’t immediately touch you in return; he just hesitated for a fraction of a second, a delay that made you feel physically sick with worry.
‘When me and Dean made up, I could’ve ditched you,’ you said, which felt harsh though it was true, ‘I mean it would’ve been a total dick move.’
Sam breathed a laugh.
‘And yeah, we could’ve carried on doing stuff and I could’ve just let us be friends again or whatever but…I didn’t want that,’ you said. Sam seemed to weigh it up, the quiet contemplation. He ran the calculation through his head and then he nodded at you. You immediately pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling his head down to kiss you.
Sam kissed you back fiercely, grabbing your face and holding you in place before he steered you to the bed. You flopped down onto it, scooting away from the edge and watching as he pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. He was back over you in a second, groaning aloud as you ghosted your palms down his toned torso. He pulled back and looked at you, and you grinned and pulled at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head and tossing it somewhere into the room you couldn’t see because his mouth was already back on you.
His lips attacked your skin, his mouth moving hot and wet along the column of your neck, trailing down until his tongue swirled tightly around your nipple. You arched your back completely off the sheets, a loud groan escaping you as he took the sensitive peak slightly between his teeth. His large hand covered your other breast, squeezing it in perfect punctuation with his mouth.
‘Sam,’ you whimpered, your fingers knotting in the sheets. You had been expecting gentle. Restrained. Calculated. And it was calculated, but in a terrifyingly effective way. It was as if he’d been silently studying you for weeks, every single day a careful revision of exactly what you liked until he had the entire syllabus down pat. Now, you were an open-book test. Literally open, as his hands forced your knees further apart, his tongue dancing a hot path across your stomach until he pulled back just enough to tug your sleep shorts down your legs.
You would’ve thought you’d be nervous, even though he’d seen everything before it had been dark out in the truck and this felt dangerously exposing. Your nerves also stemmed from the fact that you knew it wasn’t stopping after that. That his cock, which was straining against the tight denim of his jeans was going to fill you and have you writhing underneath him. Sam smiled softly at the sight of you then he placed his hand over your core, using two fingers to gently spread you open, his eyes glinting as you glistened in the warm light. Then he shifted down, his hot breath brushing against your inner thighs.
You let your fingers go into his hair and watched as he looked up at you, a wicked smirk on his face before he dipped his tongue at your base. You felt him probe against your entrance, and then he dragged his tongue sharply upward, swirling it directly around your clit. You groaned loudly at the sheer intensity of it, your fingers tightening in his hair as he held you open, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud before sucking hard and fast. It made you see absolute white. You had never been this wet in your life; you could feel the heat of yourself gathering with the moisture on Sam’s chin as he moved lower, his nose brushing your centre as he dipped his tongue inside you.
‘Sam, please,’ you whimpered as he pulled back, his fingers teasing you like the fucking menace you were finding him to be, ‘need them inside me. Need you inside me.’
‘Good,’ Sam said, chuckling when you smacked him on the side of the head for being mean. Then he obliged. Two thick, long fingers buried themselves all the way down to his palm, his mouth immediately going back to suck on your clit. You shook violently as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that exact deep spot he’d learned about with every deliberate thrust, combining the friction with heavy licks and kisses everywhere else.
‘Oh god I’m already close,’ you gasped, that desperate ache in your belly pulling tighter.
‘That’s it,’ Sam hummed against your skin, the deep vibration of his voice delectable against your nerve endings.
‘Sammy.’
‘Come on, pretty girl,’ Sam said, before flicking his tongue against you once more. That was enough to send you over the edge, a sudden wave of wetness dripping around his fingers and your hips bucking up into his face on shaky legs that felt like jelly when it ebbed away, fleeing out through your limbs. You let out a weak protest as he pulled his fingers from you, dusting them on his jeans as he moved forward and leant down to kiss you, held in place by your hands on his face.
‘Thank you,’ you whispered against his lips. When Sam laughed you frowned, ‘what?’
‘Thank you?’ he questioned, his chest rumbling as he laughed harder, ignoring the way you smacked his shoulder, ‘I’m just saying, I’ve just made you cum with my mouth, not pass you the salt at the dinner table.’
‘Oh yeah?’ you challenged, pushing up and forcing him to kneel between your legs, ‘why don’t you get those damn pants off and I can thank you properly then?’
‘Yeah?’ Sam breathed, his lips hovering dangerously close to you. You dared a kiss and he let you, your smile wide when you broke apart, ‘yeah. Pants off Winchester.’
He nodded and stood up, his jeans discarded in a second but then he hesitated, hands on the waistband of his boxers as he looked down at you, practically salivating from the outline of him pressed against the cotton.
‘What is it?’ you asked, noticing his hesitation.
‘I need a condom,’ Sam said, the first seed of embarrassment blooming onto his face, ‘I’ve got some in my duffle…stole ‘em from Dean.’
‘You don’t need it,’ you said as he moved towards the door. Sam looked at you hesitantly, like he didn’t know if you were still lost in the heat of moment or more than likely he could hear Dean’s voice in the back of his head that you never risked it, no matter what the other party said. You rolled your eyes.
‘I’m on the pill, Sam,’ you explained. His entire posture settled immediately. As you watched him push down his boxers, his length hitting his stomach with a slap you thanked God you’d had the forethought to do so. Even if it had been a long bus ride and an awkward chat that you’d asked to remain anonymous so that Bobby would never be forced to think of you and birth control in the same sentence. But as you thought about that you thought about what had inspired you to go. Then you thought about the condoms sitting in the other room, stolen from the person you had planned this with.
But then Sam crawled back onto the mattress, and you forgot all about it. He kissed you again, softer this time, kneeling between your legs, hands on either side of your mattress beside your head. You could feel him nudging against your core with every jostle of the bed and you felt yourself grow needy, your hand pushing him back just a touch which made his face go inquisitive.
‘I’m ready,’ you explained. Sam nodded and pulled back, resting on his knees and you instinctively let your legs fall further to accommodate him. You watched sort of mesmerised as he fisted his cock a couple times, drawing out a bead of pre-cum that he deliberately teased through your aching heat. Then he stationed himself right at your entrance, looking down at your face one last time before he made his move. You gave him a small nod and he eased himself in, gentle at first and yet still bigger than what you were used to. It stung but you refused to let it show on your face because you didn’t want to ruin it. The deep, guttural groan that tore from his throat was like absolute music to your ears, vibrating through the quiet room until he finally bottomed out completely, his hips flush against yours.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked hesitantly. Thick and full and buried deep inside you but completely unmoving, waiting for your cue.
‘Yeah, I’m good,’ you nodded, ignoring the burn.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, searching your eyes.
‘Sam it’s good. You’re good, just move slow, okay?’ you asked. Sam nodded and took a tentative roll of his hips, cock head dragging down your walls in a way that felt good but odd at the same time. Then he pulled back, sliding right out to the edge before plunging back in to the hilt. He watched your face carefully, noticing how your expression didn't look quite as blissful as it had five minutes ago, and he immediately set out to make it right. You felt like absolute heaven wrapped around him. All the lingering worries, competition, and doubts that had been running through his head all afternoon vanished entirely, especially when he reached down, wetting the pads of his fingers with his mouth quickly, and began to rub gently against your clit. You threw your head back against the pillow, your body reflexively clenching down around him in a tight, desperate squeeze that made him let out a loud grunt while you moaned into the empty air.
‘That’s it, keep doing that,’ you ordered breathlessly and Sam did as he was told. He timed it with each thrust, moving quicker as you started tilting your hips to meet him. Then he let his mouth wander. Your shoulder, your collar bone, your breast, each nipple, your mouth - anywhere he could get. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. Like the first time you’d blown him, and he’d cum embarrassingly quickly though you’d been polite enough not to mention it. But you were getting there too, a second orgasm rushing as he brushed his fingers roughly against your over-sensitive clit and sending you over the edge. Your nails dug deep into the muscles of his back, your mouth pressing hard against the side of his neck as you called his name into his skin.
Once you came down from it you watched him through hooded, exhausted eyes. He looked completely wrecked, his jaw clenched tightly as his hips moved at a furious, desperate pace.
‘That’s it, baby,’ you said encouragingly, ‘are you gonna cum for me?’
‘Yes,’ Sam said obediently, his eyes locking on you darkly, ‘gonna fill you up.’
‘Yeah?’ you grinned, ‘and Bobby says I’m the bad influence.’
‘You are,’ he grunted, ‘kissed me first.’
‘You wanted me to,’ you challenged.
‘Yeah, I did,’ Sam admitted.
‘Kiss me again,’ you commanded. Sam leant down and obeyed, a moan escaping him as you clenched around him, chuckling into his mouth.
‘Do that again,’ he breathed against your lips. You squeezed around him intentionally, and suddenly Sam was cumming, hot, thick and deep inside you, fucked back into you with a couple pathetic thrusts of his hips before he pulled out, a warm mix of the two of you seeping from your abused pussy onto the cotton sheets below. Neither of you seemed to notice or care about the mess. Sam fell heavily against the mattress, barely letting you move your leg before he crushed it, squeezed between the wall and you, his arm slung over your stomach, his face smushed into one half of the pillow, his breathing heavy.
You giggled as you watched him, tracing your finger along nose which made him open his hazel eyes and finally look at you.
‘What a way to rip the band aid off, huh?’ you asked after a beat. Sam chuckled, still a bit breathless and pressed his lips to your hand. Then he shuffled onto his side to face you properly. You did the same, allowing his hand to settle on your waist, yours on the back of his neck, playing with the sweat-slicked hair back there.
‘Yeah,’ he said with a grin. Then he leaned forward and kissed you gently. You let him but when he pulled back you went quiet for a second, your hand slipping down from his neck to lie flat over his heart, feeling the steady, rapid thudding beneath his ribs. Sam watched you in silence, waiting patiently for whatever it was you wanted to say.
‘I’m glad it was you,’ you said after a moment. You hadn’t been looking at him when you said it, but when you finally did, he was watching you closely. You didn’t know if he knew just what you meant. That even though your head didn’t really know what you were doing your heart felt this was right. You didn’t want to think too much beyond that, to allow the thoughts to creep into this space between you that felt so wonderful. But Sam just nodded, his hand locking over the top of yours sealing it against his chest.
going to the con has put me behind writing wise so i'm staggering a little bit
(also feel like i've been neglecting my main series, which i love even tho no one else does lol. so just editing/posting lainey for today)
however i can give you a lil sneak preview for tomorrow
‘I’m glad it was you,’ you said after a moment. You hadn’t been looking at him when you said it, but when you finally did, he was watching you closely. You didn’t know if he knew just what you meant. That even though your head didn’t really know what you were doing your heart felt this was right. You didn’t want to think too much beyond that, to allow the thoughts to creep into this space between you that felt so wonderful. But he just nodded, his hand locking over the top of yours sealing it against his chest.
‘Yeah,’ he said softly, ‘me too.’
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