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cap-winter-barnes · 4 years

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No Matter What - Dean Winchester x Reader

2K WRITER & READER CHALLENGE

Here it is, my fic for ‘Amanda’s 2K Write & Reader Challenge’ using the prompt “I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking”. This is the first piece of writing I have ever done for a challenge and I absolutely loved doing it.

If you enjoy it, please feel free to check out my other work. My requests are always open. And whilst you’re at it, go and give @amanda-teaches a follow and check out her work too, she writes awesome stuff!

Warnings: angst, teeth-rotting fluff

A/N: Based lightly upon the episode ‘Regarding Dean’ (12x11). This episode utterly broke my heart so obviously had to use it for a sad(ish) fic.

Four hours. That is how long it has been since Dean left for food. The motel room lays in silence as I anxiously await his return. Sam retired to bed not too long ago, desperate for some rest, with the sweet promise of Dean’s safe homecoming as his departing words. Sitting in our bed, fully dressed and boots tied securely to my feet, I think of all the possible worst case scenarios. My mind running amok with fear at the absence of the man I love. Without Dean the room we have been sharing is cold, evident by the way the hairs on my arms stand on edge, goosebumps rising on my skin. Rolling the sleeves of his plaid shirt down over my hands, I try and compose myself.

Dean is a hunter, the best there is, and he can handle himself in a fight. If anything were to have happened to him, he’d be alright, he always was. With that sliver of hope in my mind and the knowledge that Dean knows his way around the supernatural, I start to relax slightly. Glancing at the alarm clock on the worn chest of drawers that shows the time as a few minutes past midnight, an involuntary yawn leaves my body. I try and fight the fatigue that has been weighing me down, but I know that the attempt will be futile. With the added stress and worry of Dean not coming back as expected, my body has become overridden with exhaustion. Leaning back into the softness of the pillows behind my back and the prospect of Dean returning safely back to us, I fall into a light slumber.

The repetitive sound of my name being called is what drags me from my sleep, a sleep plagued with terrible nightmares. Slowly opening my eyes to the silhouette of Sam in the doorway makes my body spring upwards from its resting position. A pain shoots through my neck, the realisation that I had in fact slept awkwardly, with my back propped against the wall, and a pillow haphazardly strewn sideways across the headboard. Rubbing at the sore area, I make eye contact with the younger Winchester before taking in his positive demeanour. In his hand, he clutches his phone, shaking it for emphasis when I direct my attention to it. Immediately I forget about the aches which radiate through me and sit upright.

“Sammy-“ Before I can get another word in, he interrupts me, easing my nerves, replacing them with relief.

“He’s alive.” His statement is accompanied by a chuckle of disbelief and a shake of his head. “He’s at Waldo’s. Leave in ten?”

“Make it five, Samuel.”

His laugh, so rarely heard, echoes as he leaves the room, walking across the balcony back to his own room. “Okay, five. And I’m driving.” Hearing his receding voice, I remove myself from the bed and make myself more presentable in preparation for Dean’s excuses.

Upon entering Waldo’s Waffles, both Sam and I, are met with the sight of Dean stuffing his face full of a combination of waffle, banana, blueberry and whipped cream. A lightness filled by heart at seeing him in one piece, no blood to be seen. But there was a shadow of doubt looming over everything, something was wrong. Dean’s blue jacket is caked in mud and dirt, his right sleeve completely covered in the stuff. His face is filthy, dirt embedded into the lines around his eyes and nose, scratches scattered across his cheeks. What had happened last night? I watch on as Sam approaches his brother, rattling a bottle of pills before throwing them into his awaiting hands. Surely this couldn’t be a hangover? It isn’t uncommon for Dean to drink, yet venturing out alone for a night of drinking and returning the next morning with a hangover? That is something he hasn’t done in years.

Eventually snapping out of my moment of thought, I walk over to where they both sit, Dean once again shoving food into his mouth. Noticing my presence, Dean perks up, a typical cheeky grin spreading across his face. He enthusiastically pulls out the vacant stool next to him, gesturing for me to take a seat. I can’t help but smile as he does so, especially when he places a kiss to my cheek. Sam has an expression of utter confusion on his face, glancing repetitively between the both of us. Shrugging my shoulders once Dean’s attention is once again directed at his waffles, supposing he did have a hangover, he wouldn’t normally be so cheerful.

Without looking in my general direction, Dean nudges a full plate of waffles topped with strawberries and an abundance of whipped cream towards me. A fork hangs between his middle and ring fingers, the platinum band that is placed on the latter of the two, shines under the fluorescent lighting. It is still an amazement that it hasn’t gotten scratched or required cutting off from his finger. Before we were married, the discussion of the ring was paramount, but Dean was set on wearing one. His reasoning being that without one it wouldn’t feel true. At his words my heart had fluttered in my chest and continues to do so every time I catch a glimpse of the precious metal on his hand. I take the fork, twirling between my own fingers, watching the rings on my own finger as I do so.

Both brothers delve into conversation about the current case we have been working as I tuck into the waffles that sit before me. Considering I haven’t eaten since before Dean’s disappearance last night, I suddenly find myself starving. Each bite an overwhelming sensation of sweetness and sugar. Every now and again, Dean switches his gaze to me, a soft smile on his lips as he observes me enjoying the food. I listen intently to the boys and the more I do, the more my appetite decreases, worry and concern settles in, sending a shiver through my body. The more Dean says about not remembering his night and his assumption of blacking out, the more I feel nauseous. Dropping the fork onto the plate, I push it as far away from me as I can.

As a distraction, I involve myself within the ongoing discussion.

“Dean, you seriously don’t remember anything about what happened to you last night?” He momentarily thinks over this before responding.

“Nope.” He runs his hands over his face, and it is then, that I truly see how tired he really is.

“Baby, why don’t we get you back to the motel so you can get some rest?” Like a child, Dean just nods his head in agreement, standing from the counter and making his way towards the exit.

“Did you pay?” Sam chimes in with the question as Dean passes him, the younger sibling now standing from his own stool.

“Oops, no. Right.” Myself and Sam make eye contact in that moment, both filled with concern for Dean. But for his sake, we say nothing, choosing to keep this between ourselves for the time being.

Once in the impala, it becomes clear that something is most definitely wrong with Dean. Starting with not putting the car into reverse, to forgetting the details of the current case. After a heated argument between the two brothers, it was settled upon that Sam would contact Rowena in the hopes of discovering the cause of Dean’s possible amnesia.

Back at the motel, Sam stays in the impala to call Rowena, away from the listening ears of his brother. The way that Dean wanders aimlessly from the parking lot to the building itself has me feeling uneasy. Even more so as I observe him approach the wrong room. Jogging over to him, I take him by the arm and swiftly guide him over to the correct door.

“All these dumps look the same.” Dean’s disgruntled demeanour would usually cause me to laugh, however, in this situation it’s not even close to cracking a smile.

“I know, baby. I know.” Tears are now threatening to spill as I open the motel room door. Clearing my throat, I advise Dean to go and take a shower to freshen up, then after get some well deserved sleep.

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind him, my façade breaks and the tears begin to fall. Putting on a brave face whilst watching the man I love slowly forgetting things that have occurred over the last few days, has taken a great toll on me. Like at Waldo’s, a wave of nausea hits me and it only forces me to bawl harder, sitting down on the unmade bed. Through the bathroom door, I can hear Dean undressing, his clothes hitting the cold linoleum floor. A moment of silence is followed by the wooden door opening a fraction.

“Hey, Y/N?” I hurriedly wipe the fallen tears from my face.

“Hmm?” There he stands in the open doorway of the rundown bathroom, torso bare, a nervous expression on his face.

“When,” he frowns before speaking again, “when did I get a tattoo?” Towards the end of his question he perks up, amusement clear in his tone. With his hands, he gestures to the anti-possession mark on his upper chest. At this, I can’t help the small smile that appears on my face, yet at the same time, it fills me with dread.

Standing from my place on the bed, I cross the room to stand in front of him, taking his face in my hands.

“It’s your anti-possession mark, Dean. That,” I take my right hand, placing my fingertips to the black ink marking his skin, “protects you from being possessed by a demon.” I refrain from bringing up the period in which Dean was a demon for a time. Glancing back to his face, I realise that he looks shocked.

“D-demons are real?” At his words, I can no longer stop the tears from tumbling down my cheeks. Again, I break down as I pull his body closer, holding him against me tightly.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“No matter what happens, I will always love you. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. That look of worry, concern, all of that. You’ve got nothing to worry about, everything’s going to work out fine.”

Dean’s hands are on my cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears. Placing a chaste kiss to my forehead, he again holds me tighter, whispering forever promises of his love.

It has only been a day and a half since Dean’s ‘amnesia’ began taking full force. Yet, I will trade anything to go back to yesterday. With the arrival of Rowena and the discovery that Dean was under a witch’s spell, things soon began to take a turn for the worst.

Awaking this morning to the sight of Dean twisting his wedding band around his finger takes the air out of my lungs. He sits on the opposite side of the motel room, the room that is scattered with sticky notes labelling a majority of the items within it. Long hours of research and tracking to find the witch responsible for this spell, had me falling asleep uncomfortably in the armchair by the door. Dean had occupied the bed, falling into a deep slumber by ten o’clock.

“Why do I have this?” My worst fears have finally come true and as Dean raises his head, my heart breaks completely in two. As usual, I cannot bring myself to lie to him or cause him to feel guilty.

“It’s, erm, it’s a wedding ring.” A scoff leaves his mouth as I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Am I married?” Snapping my head up to look at him, he realises what he has said. “Am I married to you?”

Half-heartedly, I raise my left hand, indicating the two rings that situate themselves on my ring finger, trying with all my might to not cry again.

“Well, I’m glad it’s you. You’re beautiful.”

A smile is all I can bring to give him in return, instead I excuse myself and retreat to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. In the safety of the small tiled room, I cry until there is nothing left to cry.

Exiting the bathroom, I am met with the sight of Dean, Sam and Rowena, crowded at the door. Before I can ask what is happening, I am interrupted by Dean’s rough voice.

“Who’s this?”

And there it is.

Deciding that it would be best for Rowena to take care of Dean, with no close emotional attachment to him, I accompany Sam to deal with the witches. The agreement was that if Sam did not return within half an hour, I was to enter as back up. Hence me now sneaking my way through an open window on the ground floor of the house.

But with the thought of Dean’s safety and wellbeing on my mind, I am greatly distracted.

Although I have many years of experience with hunting witches, this coven is one of the strongest I have encountered yet, and I am unprepared. Proving true, when I come face to face with the female of the group. Before I can aim my gun, she has me spiralling across the room, into a wooden bookcase. My vision is blurry and my head feels heavy as I try and raise my gun in her direction. But it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open. A final unsuccessful attempt of moving has me drained and I succumb to the darkness that is trying to overtake my vision and mind.

“Hey, Y/N?” Everything sounds far away as I come around. The feeling of someone’s hand on my cheek grounding me. “Y/N! Hey, can you hear me?”

“De?” That was definitely Dean’s voice.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Opening my eyes fully, I am met with the sight of a smiling Dean, although his eyes are filled with worry.

“You remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, how could I forget my beautiful wife?” A laugh escapes me alongside some tears, although this time happy tears.

“Don’t I always promise you, that no matter what, everything is going to be alright?” I nod in agreement. “And don’t I always promise you that I will always love you?”

“Yeah, Dean, you do.”

He pulls me into a hug, although the most uncomfortable hug in the current position in which we are situated.

“And I’m glad I’m married to you. You’re beautiful.”

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean imagine #supernatural imagine #requests are open #fanfic #supernatural #amandas 2k writer and reader challenge #challenge #2k writer + reader challenge #writer challenge #supernatural writing challenge

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

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Grilled Cheese & Cereal Deaths

Dean unlocks the door to his apartment, his forehead resting against the wood and eyes closed in a calculative fashion as he turns his key in the lock.

He’s opened this door thousands of times before, and has collected enough data to reach the conclusion that he does it better when he’s not looking at it. His fingers know exactly what to do, relying on muscle memory and the grooves of the key; but when he’s looking, it takes him a minute to figure out which key is for which, since he’s got every key he owns attached to his purple-pink, rubber ‘I want to break free’ keychain.

Having to not pay attention as he’s unlocking the door allows him to start thinking about Cas again, as if he hasn’t been doing it all four hours of his drive back from Kansas. Cas should be awake right now, it’s only ten, but then he knows this is Cas, infamous for sleeping the weirdest hours known to man. One day, he’s snoring by five pm without a trace of dinner in him, and the next, he’s nudging Dean awake at three am for pancakes.

The lock clicks, and Dean straightens.

It’s only been three days since he’s seen Cas, but he misses him. He considers surprising him, because their door has a silent lock, which Cas wouldn’t have heard unless he’s in the living room - which he never is, unless Dean barters cuddles on the couch in exchange for a Dr Sexy watching partner. Cas is more of a bedroom person. Occasionally, a balcony person. Or, weirdly, sometimes, a hallway person.

Dude just settles cross-legged on the floor, in the middle of the hallway, with his book on his thighs and elbows on his knees, and doesn’t move until Dean almost trips over him, hence finding him, and nagging at him to at least sit on something with a mattress.

Fuck, he misses him.

Dean swings open the door, deciding not to think anymore, and just get to his boyfriend and kiss him and - he steps in.

“I’m back!” He sings exaggeratedly, hands on his hips, giant grin pulling the corners of his lips up.

“Dean!” Cas yelps, his voice the kind of heavy only sleep deprivation can cause. Dean takes a moment to scan his face, the bags under his eyes and his slightly unfocused eyes.

Cas’s eyes blink wide and lips completely pursed, like the child who was caught with his hand in the candy jar. But here, the proverbial jar is a stack of books so high - they come all the way up to Cas’s hip, beginning from a two-feet-high table, and the proverbial child is a panicky IT major who knows exactly how long ago he should’ve taken a nap.

Dean sets down his bag next to the door.

“Come here.” Dean lifts his arms, beckoning with a soft voice.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Cas starts to argue, from five feet away. The idiot is in the living room, after all. How could Dean forget? He can also be found at the living room when he’s having one of his truly bad, must-do-everything-at-once episodes. “I swear, I just took out all of these books an hour ago, there’s just this thing which came up -”

“Come here.” Dean says, his mouth a straight line.

“You’re wrong if you think I haven’t slept in 24 hours, Dean.” Cas whines, his resolve lessening. “But I just had so much to do, and there’s this deadline, and there’s not even -”

“Come here.” Dean repeats.

Cas yields, giving up with a little huff, and dragging his socked feet across their living room.

He tucks his head under Dean’s chin, once he’s wrapped his arms around his middle, and Dean’s arms automatically move up to hold him close.

Most times, Dean doesn’t think it’s fair that Cas gets to alternate between being the larger in the two of them, with his wide-ass shoulders and his frigging arms; and the next instant, the adorable little snuggler who’s burying his face in Dean’s shirt.

But at the moment, Dean doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, he doesn’t mind it so much, that he stops thinking about everything else and spontaneously decides he wouldn’t mind if Cas never pulled away.

He squeezes, exhaling happily.

Cas lets out a content little sigh, melting into him, and Dean stops smiling for a moment when he realizes Cas is leaning all of his weight on Dean. And it’s not the fact that Cas is six feet tall, and built completely of concentrated snark and runner’s muscles, and that he’s heavy - but that Dean suddenly remembers that Cas hasn’t slept in 24 hours.

As he conveniently just confessed to.

“You need to sleep.”

Cas makes a disgruntled sound, possibly scrunching up his nose.

“I need to shower.”

Dean sniffs the air dramatically, and shrugs. It’s nothing he can’t handle. He doesn’t really think Cas has been up to jogging lately, and staying holed up in your second floor room with two semester worth of books for a project doesn’t exactly make you sweat, it’s not too unpleasant. Sure, stale clothes have a smell, but this one’s mostly just Cas.

“You need to eat.” Dean counters, and it’s probably a strong point he makes, since Cas doesn’t have a retort to throw back at him within the first second.

“That reminds me. We’re out of coffee,” Cas mumbles, in a little voice. “Didn’t know how I could text you to buy Nescafe when you were driving home two hundred and fifty miles.”

“What about the emergency stack you keep in the bedroom?”

Cas shakes his head. “I forgot to replenish that after the Great Scare of Preponed Papers, in September.”

“You’re every inch the college boy my mama warned me to look out for.” Dean teases, wriggling out of the hug, so that he can stare at Cas.

“And yet you’ve been living with me for years.” Cas returns, turning around and walking towards the kitchen. He plops down on a dining table chair, facing Dean.

“What can I say? You make me a rebel.” Dean scoffs, following Cas’s tracks to the kitchen, after he’s taken off his jacket and deposited it on the couch.

“Ooh, I’m even worse than I thought.” Cas deadpans, crossing his arms. And that ends it. Because there’s more important things to do, right now.

Dean opens the fridge, and starts to rummage through it.

“We’re out of honey, too.” Cas tells him, his chin propped in his hands, as he stares at a busy Dean.

“I can see that.” Dean rolls his eyes, and the almost empty milk carton is the only thing which sympathizes with him. “What kind of meals did you even have since friday, Cas? Honey and coffee? Or maybe, coffee and honey?”

Cas nods. “And ramen.”

“Fucking dumbass, with a 3.9 GPA to show for it.” Dean rolls his eyes again, done with going through the fridge, and closing the door with his elbow as he holds bread and cheese in his hands. “Well, doesn’t matter. Point is, I’m back. What do you want now?”

And before Cas could answer, Dean went on in a typical five star restaurant voice. “We have grilled formaggio. And grilled queso. And the chef’s recommendation, the grilled cheese.”

“Could I have grilled syr?” Cas asks, innocent.

“Lemme guess, Russian for cheese?” Dean confirms, in a dramatic stage whisper.

Cas’s eyebrows dance. “I missed you.” He mockwhispers back.

“You know what, I’ll have to pull some strings, but I think the chef will be able to manage that.” Dean returns to his grand waiter voice. And starts to unwrap the bread and pick out plates from the drawers, while Cas surprises him by beginning to talk.

“It’s a group project.” He begins, not sounding a tenth of the pumped up and clever from before. “For Professor Naomi Novak.” He groans, his head falling on his arms folded on the table.

“Okay?” Dean urges him to go on.

“And Balthazar bailed on me.”

***

Dean listens, as Cas eats. He occasionally offers words of sympathy, or those of righteous annoyance. He stares at Cas, wolfing down the sandwiches like they’re the best thing on the planet, and looking more and more okay as he finishes what’s on his plate.

Dean had had his dinner during what was supposed to be a fuel stop, at a motel who advertised their pies on unmissable banners hannging on every surface of the gas station. He couldn’t resist the temptation.

Thinking about that reminds him that just about an hour ago, he’d been in the last quarter of his drive, tired, but excited to get home. To Cas, to his shower and of course, to his mattress. Now, he doesn’t feel exhausted at all. Or perhaps, there’s just more important things around him. All in all, he knows he isn’t going to bed himself until Cas is going with him.

“Dean.” Cas interrupts his reverie, and Dean looks up to see him pushing away his plate, completely clean.

“Yeah?”

“Everything in the world except you and this grilled cheese sucks.” Cas declares, solemnly.

Dean grins, refocusing all his attention on Cas. “Oh?”

“Definitely.” Cas nods. He licks his lips, and rests back in his chair. “I mean, I know this’ll come as a surprise, but I think I was hungry or something.” He adds, feigning innocence, and Dean snorts. “I don’t know. Must’ve been the stress of the project I’ll never be able to complete in time, that made me overlook it.”

“Cas, listen to me.” Dean begins, reassuring. “The project will be done, Novak will not freak out, and you’ll ace through her class too. Everything’s going to work out.”

“How?” Cas asks, not as much ridiculous as it is desperate.

“You see,” Dean answers, his tone smooth. Well, sarcasm’s always been their language. “I have a brother.”

“Congratulations?” Cas squints, in a confused monotone.

“Nah, he’s not a pleasure to have or anything,” Dean shrugs, a grin on his hips. “But he’s dating someone.”

“Congratulations to him?” Cas offers.

“You don’t get it, smartass. The guy my brother’s dating, is Balthazar’s flatmate.” Dean waits for Cas to catch up. “So, all I have to do is talk to a few people, and I’ll know where to go find this weird-name guy.”

“Fuck.” Cas exclaims, stunned.

“No, Balthazar.” Dean smirks, and Cas is starting to smile much wider. “So, I’m going to get this jackass do his part of the job. And I’m sure as hell going to make him call you.”

“Oh!” Cas squeaks, eyes wide again. His face lights up with a smile, and it’s one of those genuinely gummy ones which make his eyes shine. Sonuvabitch, Dean loves him so much.

“So, yeah. I’m going to go call Sam, and get Baby out.” Cas practically radiates relief at this point, and happiness, and Dean has never been prouder of himself. “But,” He adds, before he forgets. “I have a condition.”

“What?” Cas cuts him off, abruptly. “And please don’t say you want me to go sleep, because I won’t be able to sleep until this is done, I’m too restless, and -”

“Fine.” Dean folded his arms. “Then eat.”

“I just did?” Cas motioned to his empty plate.

“Those were two sandwiches, Cas.” Dean huffs. “I need you to promise me you’ll eat the entire time till I’m back.”

“I don’t want to cook right now, I have to revise -” Cas starts to whine, and on another day, this may have been the moment Dean shut him up with a kiss, because he was being too annoying about not doing things for himself, but right now? This is a different Cas - a sleep deprived, fretty Cas, who needs to be handled in a different manner.

“I’m not asking you to cook.” Dean stands up.

Cas follows. “Huh?”

“I was just in the kitchen. We have cereal.”

“No.”

“Come on, Cas.” Dean argues, indignant. This is where they always end up. Debating on cereal. Dean’s got his facts clear. “Cereal’s a snack.”

“No, Dean. You’re a snack. I’m a snack. Arguably, Dr Sexy is a snack. Cereal is not a snack.” Cas throws back.

Dean glares at Cas. “You’ll eat your goddamn cereal until I’m home, Cas, or I swear on your coffee-freaky, sleep-deprived ass -”

“Okay.” Cas gives up. He takes a step back, puts his hands in the air, and lets out a breath.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll eat it while I reread my notes.” Cas says, his eyebrows curved. There’s still a smile on his lips, though a more annoyed one.

Dean hums, unsatisfied.

“What?”

“Cereal needs your attention.” Dean postulates, tongue in cheek. “I really can’t have you choking on Honey Nut Cheerios.”

Cas levels him with a look, which would’ve been more effective if it wasn’t leveled at him through dark-circled eyes.

“That’s the opposite of an honorable death.” Dean goes on, sweet.

“Then in the obituary, let it be said that it was Cap'n Crunch.” Cas scowls, and Dean breaks into a laugh without meaning to. “And eating cereal isn’t a singleminded task, believe it or not.”

“Fine.” Dean lets it go, knowing it’s the best deal he’s going to get.

“Fine?” Cas says, like Dean had before.

“Fine. One for me, one for you.” And with that Dean throws his jacket on again, and starts to walk out, with a pleased smile. He’s going to make this work. And as he deals with Balthazar, Cas will keep eating. Two birds with one stone.

“Though,” Cas starts speaking, and Dean looks back, surprised at how soft his voice is. Cas is looking down at his feet. “This is more like, all for me, none for you.”

“Cas.” Dean shakes his head, returning to the dining table, and putting his hand on Cas’s.

“I mean,” Cas goes on, his voice shaky. “You literally came home after three days. And instead of talking about your trip, and your family, and taking a shower and getting in bed and resting after your four hour drive - you’re already completely immersed in solving my problems for me. I’m - I’m sorry.”

Dean purses his lips. He has not thought about it like this at all, and doesn’t want Cas to, either. “Cas, no -”

“No. I’m selfish and horrible, and I didn’t even stop you when you offered to cook for me and go get Balthazar to get in touch with me, or any of it - I’m just -”

“Cas.” Dean repeats, sterner. “That is not the case. I’m fine, okay? I’m absolutely fine. And you needed to eat, and you need this now, and I want to do it for you. You aren’t making me do this! And what the hell am I here for if not to be there for you, when you need it, Cas?”

“But -”

“And do you really think you telling me to not go would’ve stopped me from wanting to help you out?” Dean cocks his head, challenging Cas to agree.

Cas shakes his head.

“Exactly. In fact, you’re showing that you trust me enough to let you know when I’m tired and pushing my limits. You’re showing that our relationship has come to that kind of level, where though we mean the gratitude, concern and appreciation entirely, we aren’t always required to keep repeating it, and that’s growth, Cas, and I’m -”

Cas waits, his eyes starting to haze.

“I’m proud of us.” Dean finishes, swallowing. He feels his own throat start to clog up. Must be from watching Cas get teary, because they don’t usually end up crying every time one of them does something nice for the other.

“You’re everything I’ve ever needed.” Cas tells him, matter-of-factly, like it doesn’t pierce Dean through the heart in the best way to hear it.

“You’re pretty perfect, too.” Dean says, trying to avoid getting as sappy as Cas has already gotten. Cas gets to blame the lack of sleep later, what does Dean do then? “And please, please don’t feel guilty about me trying to be a good boyfriend, next time?”

“I’ll try?”

“We’ve come a long way.” Dean teases. “And if it makes you feel better, I’ll try to stop feeling guilty about it too, whenever you help me out with, I dunno, professors, college papers, buying durable things online, choosing gifts for friends, ice cream flavours I don’t like -”

“That’s enough.” Cas grins. “And, thank you.”

Dean slid his arm down from Cas’s forearm, to rest on his hip. His other hand snaked around Cas’s waist.

“Thank you for everything.” Cas says, like he’s tried to soak the meaning out of all the words into his voice, and it works.

“Yeah, yeah.” They just had a chick-flick moment, and Dean isn’t prepared for another one, so soon. So he does what he does best, and deflects, rolling his eyes dramatically. “People don’t call me the awesomest-roomate-ever-slash-ideal-bestfriend-slash-your-knight-in-shining-armor for nothing.”

“Nobody calls you that.” Cas snickers, putting his arms loosely around Dean’s neck. He’s doing that thing again, like the flipping of a switch, and now it’s Dean who’s probably going to end up with his face in Cas’s neck. Kissing him, though, this time.

“Hey!” He pouts, pulling Cas in closer from the waist. “I call myself that.”

“Yeah, I have no idea why you do that.”

Remember how before it wasn’t the moment to shut him up with a kiss? Dean repeals that statement now. It’s no longer valid, because Cas is being a little shit again. Plus, he’s being a little shit who doesn’t kiss Dean yet, just teases around it, and that’s not fair, right after they’ve had such a romantic moment, is it?

So Dean takes matters into his own hands.

“Shuddup, you overworked little asshole.” And leans in to capture Cas’s lips with his, and straightens with Cas following him, planting breathy kisses on every inch of Dean’s lips, while Dean tries to return the equivalent of the favor by running his hands over Cas, under his shirt.

Cas tastes like grilled, uh, keso - ignore them, that’s a game they’ve been playing for years - and love, though knowing Cas, that’s probably just honey - and in that moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

In that moment, Dean thinks to himself, kissing Cas with every fibre of his being; everything is perfect.

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fromwinnipeg2everywhere · 4 years

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Worth Every Penny

From Amsterdam, we took the train to Hamburg for a quick overnight stop before continuing to Copenhagen. The DB train ride to Hamburg took longer than the scheduled 6 hours, and even though we left Amsterdam early, it was late in the afternoon before we were able to check in to our motel across the street from Hamburg HBF. We covered a lot of ground in the few daylight hours we had in Hamburg. We walked along the pier and had a Fischbrotchen (Fish Sandwich) at Brucke 10, we saw St. Michael’s Church, Elbphilharmonie and Speicherstadt, but the highlight was just sitting and resting on the patio at Hofbrauhaus sipping Dunkel, soaking in the sun and people-watching. Someday, when we can all travel again, we will go back to Hamburg and see the rest of the places that we missed.

The train ride from Hamburg to Copenhagen was quite the adventure. When I first planned the trip, there was a direct train from Hamburg to Copenhagen, which involved the train going into a ferry to cross from Germany to Denmark. I was very excited because I have never been on a train that goes inside a ferry before! I always plan about six to nine months ahead and book all the flights and hotels around that time, and then buy the train tickets as they are released, typically 60-90 days ahead. Well, imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find that route anymore when it was time to book. It turns out that route was under maintenance then and my options were either to fly or take the non-direct route with three changes, with transfer times of four, six and eight minutes respectively to catch the next train. Well, not only am I sucker for stress, but I also have 100% complete faith in the German rail system, so at 430am, we were at Hamburg HBF, we stocked up on hamburgers at McDonald’s (it was the only thing open), and went to our platform to await our first train.

Well guess what, our first train, the one with the shortest transfer time to the next one, was one minute late. I know one minute is not a big deal, but when your layover is only four minutes, it is a big hairy deal. Luckily, we didn’t have to change platforms for the next train and all we had to do is basically jump off the one train and go into the next one across the platform. How did I know this? By researching all the station layouts prior to our trip to make sure we don’t waste precious minutes getting lost in the train stations. I also had contingency plans for which train we will take if we happen to miss one, but thankfully, everything went according to plan, and we were in Copenhagen by 1030am.

Copenhagen is beautiful but very expensive! We stayed at a hostel because it was the cheapest accommodation I could find, and I was not impressed with the experience. We paid pretty much the same price we would pay for a “nicer” hotel for a private room with bathroom and “a view” at Steel House Copenhagen. On top of everything we paid, they still charged us for storing our luggage, they only gave us one towel each in the bathroom (no towellete or floor mat) and if we wanted an extra one, we would have to pay. The room was one of the smallest rooms we’ve ever had, the air conditioning didn’t work, the balcony was not clean and covered with dead plants and bugs (so much for the view!), and the elevators did not work pretty much our entire stay. It was one of the worst ever in terms of customer service.

We explored Copenhagen mostly on foot, the sites are a bit far from one another but it’s doable with comfortable shoes. We walked down Stroget, visited Rosenburg Castle, took a canal tour, and strolled down Nyhavn. The canal tour is a good activity on the first day because it gives a pretty comprehensive tour of the city and gives an idea on which places to visit for the following days. I found Nyhavn very much like a postcard, but the restaurants are very pricey and not the best the city has to offer. There’s a McDonald’s a few blocks down so we ate there instead. Tivoli Gardens was a pleasant surprise, and a good way to spend an afternoon. We bought tickets for a couple of tame rides, but there are a couple of scary ones there that you could not pay me to try.

The part that I loved the most about Copenhagen was the food, and I’m not talking about McDonald’s! On our first day there, we went to Torvehallerne which is a food market that has a lot of scrumptious food, this is where we spent our three-day budget. We bought an open face sandwich, I bought a piece of bread, a dessert, and we shared a beer. It does not really take much to blow through a budget in Copenhagen. I miscalculated the conversion in my head the first morning we were there and didn’t realize that a Frappuccino cost $10! I really did not enjoy that Frap. On the second day, we had lunch at NOMA. The food at NOMA was, hands down, the best I’ve tasted in my entire life. We were there for seafood season and it was course after course of amazing seafood – crabs, mussels, oysters, scallops, sea urchin – all beautifully plated and cooked to perfection. I would come back to Copenhagen just to experience seafood season again. It is hard to get a booking at NOMA. You must book the second they open bookings for whatever season you want. So, for example, we booked in January for our May trip. When I say book the second they open, I literally mean the second they open because those slots will be gone in a snap. You pay for the food at the time you make the booking, and then you pay for beverages after the meal. It is a splurge, but it is one of the memories that I will look back fondly on forever. On our last night in Copenhagen (and the last night of our trip), we dined at Geranium. The food and the dining experience were exceptional. The kitchen and wine cellar tour were a nice touch, but it had very big shoes to fill from the previous day’s experience. This is another splurge, but if you only have enough budget for one splurge, I would go with NOMA.

While at Copenhagen, we also took a half-day trip to Malmo, Sweden. It is a nice, quiet town with not much going on. Make sure that you have your passport on you because the border patrol does random passport checks on the train. The train ride is not cheap, but we wanted to go to Sweden!

The whole trip was a very memorable one. We got to revisit cities that we love, and we fell in love with new ones. The whole gastronomic aspect of this trip was unbelievable, and I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to dine in some of the world’s best restaurants. I would have to give credit where credit is due, and that is to my husband because he has taught me that I need to look at the value, and not the cost of something (or at least that is his excuse to splurge!). When this pandemic is over, I hope that the restaurant industry recovers, but for now, let’s try to support them by ordering takeout or delivery occasionally, or buying gift cards to use when they open again. Travelling and dining out are two of my favourite things in the world and I will enjoy every single moment once we can do so again.

#hamburg #copenhagen #denmark #malmo #sweden #germany #noma #geranium #tivoligardens #nyhavn #travel #wanderlust #europe #scandinavia

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sparkistories · 4 years

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4/20/20

HOTEL HELL-ISH

*This will be edited many times. It was a long dream and will need many sessions to complete.

We were on a road trip. We took an exit into a city, seeing a large luxury hotel near the exit, and it had the perfect view to see the city beyond.

We pulled into a parking space near the front entrance. Some of the rooms were hotel-style, others motel suites.

We wanted a room in the hotel. So we asked the concierge to please give us a room away from the elevator so we would not hear every single person staying inside.

The concierge looked confused for a moment. He called a number and muttered a response into the phone. He hung up, saying someone will be with us shortly, then walked away.

We thought that was odd. But waited nonetheless. Soon, the auditor approached. He had a small figure, oddly shaped glasses, and a design drawn onto his bald head. Although he was slight and small, the way he silently approached was intimidating. We thought we were unwelcome to ask for a room to accommodate us.

He just said to follow him. We walked behind him, confused. We still had not paid or made a reservation for a room.

He stopped in front of a large ramp spiraling the 200 floors of the building. We thought is was odd that a hotel this large had so few people in sight. We saw many cars outside, but nobody in the hotel except for this auditor and the concierge.

A giant wheel approached from down the ramp. It appeared attached to a structure running alongside the ramp, the ramp counting up and branching into hallways as it continued. There were some rooms placed along the ramp. But the wheel made no sound as it traversed.

"This is our unique elevator feature. By standards, the ramp provides ample disability accessibility, but we prefer to give them external rooms unless it can be avoided. This elevator keeps you walking along the bottom to help you reach your room. It keeps you healthy but it's faster than walking up alone."

He stepped onto the wheel, standing on the steps toward the back. We climbed in with him, holding our suitcases towards the ramp. When the wheel began moving, it made no sound, but our steps were placed in a wave as we propelled forward, higher and higher.

While walking, I studied the back of the auditor's head, taking a closer look at the symbol drawn. It was pearly white before, but seemed to be gaining color over time.

The wheel stopped on the 45th floor. I noted that the higher up the rooms were, the more elaborate it became. He walked down a hallway painted aqua lined with gold. Some plants lined the halls, none too interesting.

The hallways extended further than the building looked to be from outside. But when he stopped, we were almost to the end of the hallway.

"I trust this room will suit your needs?" He opened the door and the room inside was surprisingly a very accommodating and comfortable suite. It was not lavish, but was elegant enough to be beautiful and far more functional than typical hotels.

"I'm sorry, but what are the rates? We did not book a room downstairs yet, and we didnt mean to call for attention earlier. We just wanted to be able to have a room without waking up to children or dogs from the elevator. We didnt know about that lovely contraption, there. But we don't need anything too fancy."

"It's no trouble. This is your first time staying, so the room is complimentary. Is this room 'too fancy?'"

"No, not at all. It's lovely. We just didn't know how the rates worked. I assumed the rates went up the further the elevator went. It's a very unique setup, your hotel. I am fascinated."

"I see. You are right that it is unique. But the rates are the same all around. We find rooms to accommodate the personality and comfort level of our guests. Some with a more lavish lifestyle may prefer an executive look, others visiting family in their travels might prefer more relaxing and homely features. The rates are all the same, nonetheless, and we have plenty of rooms to spare. We may even give multiple rooms, if you'd prefer. This one suites the creative one. But I sense you might be worried about your vehicle as well. I can show you a motel room easily accessible. But please, do get comfortable."

I stayed in the room while the others looked at a room on the ground. I didn't notice that it did suit me. Not in the studio way I am comfortable with. But in a way that felt welcoming and had a view I could watch and let my thoughts go on. I was both flattered and worried about being addressed as "the creative one." Their profile on my personality was curiously alarming.

I got a call. The rest of them would stay in the room down below. But I liked the view, so I could stay up here. I also wanted the chance to explore the different personalities the hotel held. So I had the room to myself and everything I thought I would want. 4522.

After settling a bit, I went out to look around with my key card in my pocket. I took the elevator up, watching hallways roll by. St the top was a balcony and a pool overlooking the city. I went to the balcony to see the city ahead. I never saw anything like it, so I could not identify where it was.

I heard a bark behind me. I turned to see some woman with two well-pampered pomeranians and a hairstyle to match hers. I found it ironic, after all, people look like their pets.

"Excuse me," she said in the typical Karen way, "can you make this stupid thing work right? I wanted to go to the lobby, and it brought me here. My heels are killing me. Well, don't just stand there!"

I decided I needed the fun. I am not one to take kindly to rude people. So I told her I'll walk it back down. After all, it either goes up or down. If it's going up when it comes to you, chances are it will keep going up. It doesnt read your mind. It just stops when it senses you waiting, but only for so long.

"Why don't you people have normal elevators?"

I held back acid in my words, imagining the audacity one must have to complain about inconvenience at a creative take on a concept often taken for granted. But I needed the fun. So I just stepped off and continued my leisurely walk down the ramp without her. I was in no rush.

Around and around I went, watching the doors pass, occasionally looking over the rail the wheel took down to glimpse at the lobby below. Still, there was nobody in sight. The wheel made it's way to the bottom, so I knew if she was smart, she would have stayed on it all the way down.

I marvelled at how many designers much have been ordered to make this masterpiece come together. And I wondered how such an exquisite hotel could afford a flat rate for every room and why the first visit is complimentary.

The wheel stopped before me, the auditor stepping out before me.

"You have a dinner invitation this evening. Someone has taken an interest in you."

I took an envelope and watched him continue upward, wondering where he was going.

I got back to my room, finding a selection of evening gowns in the room. Oddly, they seemed to be tailored to my personality, like everything seemed to be. I didn't know whether to be impressed or alarmed.

I chose a simple, off shoulder gown with a lace capelet and a fabric rose detail in wine red.

I opened the envelope to find instructions to go up to 18714, in the approximate area I left the woman before. At least she was right about something, heels would be a nightmare. So I chose flats.

I took the wheel back to the top, and went searching for the room. In the hallway, I saw the auditor step out, wearing a suit in the same color I was, the mark on his head to match. It was both odd and oddly satisfying in the high-end fashion way.

He seemed to have been arguing with someone in the room, but smiled at me and walked to the end of the hallway before disappearing into another room.

I cautiously approached the room. It seemed empty at a glance, but with a nice spread laid out on the far end near a window overlooking the city.

I called out, and heard a voice from the closed off bedroom.

"I'm sorry I am not our to introduce myself. I just had an accident that requires a wardrobe change. Please, make yourself at home. I will be out in a moment."

I cautiously walked around the room, wondering who would be joining. I had called my companions before, and they said they were going out to eat, but that I should enjoy myself.

I looked out the window, still impressed by the view. Then I heard the door open behind me.

I didn't know who I was expecting before, but I didn't expect this. It was the concierge from before.

He saw my confusion and smiled warmly.

"I was expecting that reaction. Don't worry. I'm the owner of the hotel. Sometimes I have to fill in for a few positions, and I prefer to be inconspicuous. I saw you arrive earlier and wanted to meet you."

"Why? Why me?"

"You looked like someone I knew long ago. Same eyes. Eyes I never expected to see again or realized how much I missed. Eyes that also held such wonder." He gestured towards the city.

"Did I interrupt something before? The auditor left looking upset."

"Not at all. He is my business partner and companion. We fight sometimes. We were discussing family matters. It's nothing."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude asking. I was just worried."

"It's alright. I would be worried too in the circumstances."

I sat down and looked around the room. There were many displays of antiques, yet a very orderly modern design to the room. More personality than a museum, but with just as much security.

My eyes drifted to the paintings. They held a striking resemblance to my own style, and didnt seem to match the room at all.

"I paint sometimes," he said sheepishly. "One of my hobbies."

"They are nice. I like them."

He smiled, but in a slightly sad way.

"I knew a woman like you. She was like you in almost every way. She taught me to paint. She also had a curious nature. Very kind. And direct. She didn't like small talk often, so I will gamble that you do not as well. I will get to the point. I have a feeling you are a reincarnation, if you will. I made this hotel years ago, and it has adapted to the times. Many of the floors you saw were her vision. Her favorite was the suite you are in. Those items were hers or something I feel she would have. You were quick to realize this was no ordinary hotel. But you were not afraid. You seem to belong here. Even the way you handled that woman was something she would do. She was kind, but liked to teach lessons for behavior. It was one of the qualities I loved about her. She was like a daughter to me.

"She died 300 years ago. And I still miss her. So I wanted to offer you a home here. I know you have no reason to, as you have your own life. But I would be honored."

"300 years? How?"

"Immortality, of sorts. Hotel California situation, if you will. Those that stay can find themselves attached in body and spirit. Not that we keep people here forever. They chose to stay."

"So your business partner..."

"Chose to stay. He wants a family here. But the hotel doesn't allow for aging, and it's best that we don't try to disrupt youth like that. He is jealous. He knew of my daughter before. The one like you. But she died long before him. And he has wanted a family for the last 20 years after realizing what he had to give up to be with me."

"But why does the hotel do that? Of you knew when it was built and how, how old does that make you?"

"Aha. The key to it all. This has always been my hotel. Always. I am who women call Lucifer. The Devil. Whatever the name, it's the same idea. I'm not of this world, but I do find it charming. And no, it's not evil. Haunted, maybe, because I am here and it throws the balance of the natural world, but that doesn't make me evil. The hotel has had far worse evils than me here, and they have been dealt with appropriately."

I took time to process, feeling him watch me.

"You want me to stay and be her?"

"No. Not be her. I'm not looking to make you in her image. You are already enough like her. And although I may want, it isnt a demand. I am simply offering."

"Okay. I need time to think about it."

"Of course."

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