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skzafterdusk · 4 years

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kim seungmin + “I Love It”

This was requested from the Dean Title Track Prompt List I posted where you can pick an SKZ member and a song for a drabble fic

Word Count: 2.9k (idk if that’s considered drabble length)

Tag: kitchen sex, college!au, photographer!Seungmin

Summary: You and Seungmin rent a high-rise apartment for his birthday weekend. And, well, birthday sex...’nuff said.

You and your boyfriend checked into the apartment earlier this morning, wanting to spend some time together before he headed to the one class he had on Fridays. It was no burden to him, of course; an intermediate portrait photography course that he’s been so engrossed in.

But that only meant, shortly after you guys settled into your home for the weekend, Seungmin was pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before leaving you there alone.

You had taken painstaking care looking for the best apartment to rent, wanting something with tons of natural light that you and Seungmin got drunk on, but also a view of your fabulous city, Seoul. This was the gift you settled on for his 20th birthday which, unfortunately, fell on a weekday where both of you would be too busy with classes.

The view, as you hoped, was incredibly lovely. From the wall of windows in the living room, you were able to see the sun as it continued to rise over the city. It was so calming, in fact, that you decided a nap would be in order after you took the time to unpack Seungmin’s and your stuff. The close you brought, the fruits and vegetables you washed, your favourite ground coffee sat next to the coffee machine.

It’s almost as if you guys actually lived there. Having a dream be a reality for so short of time could definitely be the spark to motivate you once you had to go back to the real world.

And so, a couple hours later, you finally went to the bedroom, laying on top of the covers so as not to disturb anything too much, and allow the unfamiliar serenity of the new place lull you to much needed rest…

Maybe you’ve been slowly coming to for some time now, the room just as silent as it had been when you fell asleep. But even with your eyes closed, the presence of another life redistributes the quiet, makes an empty space feel more full.

And it’s the familiar sound of a light shutter that makes you blink until your eyes flutter open.

The room is much warmer than it had when you initially fell asleep. Even in the shadows of the bed frame, Seungmin seems to radiate the glow like the sun that is clearly setting from the windows behind you.

And, much like you had expected, Seungmin’s white camera is in his hands, a soft smile on his lips as he inspects the photo before looking up again.

He’s crouched down so your faces almost entirely leveled, close so he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

“You just looked so peaceful and beautiful,” he explains. “Wanna see it?”

You lift yourself onto your elbow so you can lean forward as he shows you the camera screen. And there’s a grin on your lips before you even notice.

Despite the subject, it’s still a wonderful composition, the sun a vibrant and warm orange spilling rays through the floor to ceiling walls behind the bed. The burst floats above your darker silhouette, but your relaxed features are still distinguishable.

“I love it,” you say. Your hand is already reaching for his face, wanting to kiss him while the serenity of the moment is still present.

You both drink in the moment, both are slow to press your lips to eachother’s and even slower to pull away.

“Happy Early Birthday, Minie.”

“What do you have planned for me this weekend?”

With that question, you readjust yourself, sitting up. Seungmin follows suit, coming to sit next to you on the bed while you explain the plan for the night.

“I figured we would cook our meal for tonight. So we’ll need to go to the market to buy meat. And we can get you a cake, as well.”

With the plan set, you both went about freshening up, Seungmin wanting to rid himself of the simple clothes he’d worn to university for the day, and you adding the smallest of makeup just to make yourself more put together.

Going to the market together reminded you of when you’d first started dating, Seungmin insisting on cooking for you because you were both young college students that didn’t have the means to always eat out. When you got back to his dorm, that was when you discovered that maybe his cooking skills relied more on ambition than technique.

Even though it’s been a year and a half, it feels like so much has gone down since then. From sharing classes to being on opposite sides of campus, from late night study dates or photography adventures, you’ve grown to know Seungmin to a point where imagining him not in your life is kind of impossible.

“I’ll start prepping the vegetables,” he states matter-of-factly once you guys are back at the apartment. By now, the sun is further behind the city. You need to turn on the ceiling lights for proper illumination, and you’re seeing this space in a (literally) new light.

“Hey,” Seungmin calls to you, putting a hand on your elbow. You realize, then, that your mind had begun to wander, staring at your reflection in the window across the room. “What are you thinking about?”

It was a commonplace question for the two of you. Similar in the way that both of you tended to stay in your own heads, you both understood that all it took was a simple question to bring you back and converse with each other. You’d be lying if you hadn’t spent some nights just appreciating that aspect alone.

When you look at him, you smile wide, quickly popping up to kiss him on the jaw.

“I’m just really happy we met.” There is no other way to put it, even if it comes out bluntly. Even though the confessions of being in love with eachother have come and gone, it wasn’t common for you to just say those words. It was said in different ways; in the way he told you to worry about an assignment late and focus on yourself now, the way you asked him about whatever project he was working on in his photography class. Sometimes, like now, though, the words just need to be said as plainly and complex as they are.

“I love you.”

With his hand still on your arm, he pulls you into his chest. “I love you,” he repeats.

The moment passes easily and smoothly, and soon the kitchen is filled with a cacophony of sounds: meat sizzling in a pan, the overhead fan whirring to combat all the steam and smoke wafting the air. A jazz playlist blares from his phone on the island. Everything is so picture perfect, you think absently.

Seongmin must think this, as well, as he holds his camera up to his eye. You don’t even know when he retrieved it, but now he’s having a shoot of his own, taking shots that you can’t fathom look all that nice, but they’re endearing.

You turn the stove off as the meat finishes cooking, impatiently grabbing a piece to taste.

“Hey! Already starting without me?” teases Seungmin as he puts his camera down.

You scoff. “Head chef always gets to taste first.” At the playful pout on your boyfriend’s lips, concede easily. “But siux chef gets to taste, too.” And you feed him a piece he eagerly takes.

You don’t even bother taking the food over to the dining table, nor do you bother with using plates and dishes. Possibly you didn’t realize how hungry you both were, but there’s something so nice about just standing there, talking in between bites, laughing about random anecdotes.

“Is it time for birthday cake?” Despite phrasing it as a question, you’re already rounding towards the refrigerator where you’d put it once you got back from the store.

There’s arms suddenly wrapping around your waist, his chin hooking on your shoulder from behind.

“We have all weekend for cake. Kinda want you for dessert.”

Despite his words, you scrunch your nose up, looking at him awkwardly from where his face is. “Your reasoning is flawed, sir. You can have me all weekend, too.”

And, really, he shouldn’t look as adorable as he does when he raises his brows and widens his eyes. “Really? All weekend? It really must be my birthday.”

Your elbow is light to jab him from behind at his cheesy words. But he only gives enough room for you to turn in his hold. Your hands slide to rest on the back of his neck, your fingers having a mind of their own as they start to play with the hair there.

“And you ‘kinda’ want me? You’re gonna have to know for sure, Min,” you playfully reprimand.

His eyes darken, smile falling from his lips. It’s an expression that commands attention, and you obey effortlessly.

“I’m still hungry, (Y/N),” he starts, his voice low. “How about I eat you, instead?”

You hum. “Cannibalism. Sexy.”

Luckily, he doesn’t pay much attention to your words, only swoops down to pull you into a heated kiss that leaves you breathless. He’s quick to lick his tongue along your bottom lip, dives in when given the slightest entry. Even though this is nowhere near your first time, your body always ignites with desire at how strong his passion drives him forward.

You lock your arms around his neck when his grip on your waist grows stronger, begging your body to be flushed against his. Pesky clothing aside, you can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest heaves with yearning for oxygen that comes as second priority to just consuming you.

But when he does break away, it’s to switch your positions, the island digging into your lower back as he goes back in. He tilts your head, licking into your mouth behind your teeth. He swallows the moan his actions illicit. They taste sweet going down, if it wasn’t obvious by the way he does it again and again.

You beg him softly. “Do something, please.” Sometimes he makes you impatient, makes you need him now. And just as you obey him, he never denies you what you want.

A normally gentle man turns quite wild, his hands heavy as they work to rid you of your shirt and bra. Your chin tucks into your shoulder while his lips trail down the other side, biting and kissing at your exposed skin. Your half-lidded eyes catch that reflection you admired earlier. The night now almost completely blackened with a sunless sky. Even though a world lives outside that window, all you can see is the scene it showcases.

You with your man buried in your neck, his fist clenched to the edge of the counter beside you.

Just as quickly, he brings you back to this moment in your own skin when he brings his lips back to yours. Now it’s your turn to work on his shirt, immediately going for his pants next. Without much fanfare, you wrap your hand around his hardening length, feeling a chill run down your spine at the harsh gruff it sparks from his throat.

“Later,” he says after some time of you languidly squeezing him up and down. “Worry about that later. Hop on the counter.”

You listen wordlessly, pulling yourself up until you’re sat on the edge of the surface. You start with your pants as Seungmin goes to a bag sitting on the floor next to you, where he pulls out a bottle of lube.

The moments slow, or maybe you’re just so focused on your boyfriend, but every move he takes, you register it in anticipation. Even as he fills your space, somehow crowds around you, you can hear the click of the bottle cap,

What doesn’t cross your mind is how closely he’s watching you, as well. Surely, some of it is making sure that he takes care of you, but it’s also just because you can be much more expressive than you are verbal. And it’s so delicious to watch the way your brows twitch when he slides the first finger in, quickly following with the second.

On some other nights, he’d take his time. Maybe you can save that for tomorrow, or when you make it to the bedroom for the night. Right now, however, his thumb is already on your clit, pleasure shooting through your nerves in the best way possible. It’s the type of pleasure that brews underneath the surface, and you can feel the way it bubbles up in your core.

He opens you nice, spreading his fingers inside you while rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves. When he curls his fingers inside, you jerk forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers carding into his strands and fisting there.

He groans at the way you clench around him, the way you feel so wound up. Should he let you cum now, with his fingers alone?

“Cum, baby. Cum for me,” he whispers into your ear. You nod senselessly, feeling your walls fight to suck him in so you can never let him go.

When your orgasm finally comes, soft whimpers tremble from your open mouth. He removes his fingers slowly, knowing you’re still sensitive.

Slowly, you come to, sensing the world around you. The jazz music still lulls on, quiet sounds of brass and string instruments.

But you don’t want to come down so soon. So you lift your head from where it rests on his shoulder. His gaze is still lustfilled, and your muscles jump, still wanting more.

“Fuck me, please?” It comes out as a question, though you both know it’s a given. One of your hands slither between your bodies, going back to your earlier action of stroking him. He’s already hard, and your mind drifts to the thought of him fucking you.

In that moment you take over, mind still foggy from your orgasm. You fumble for the bottle of lube, unceremoniously putting some on your hand and wrapping it around his cock to slick him up.

With his eyes clenched shut, he rests his forehead against yours, taking a second to breathe before letting you guide him inside, taking him in entirely.

And your body never gets used to him, never gets used to how he seems to encompass you, makes you forget where your body ends and his begins. He must be magical to make you incoherent in this manner.

His thrusts start off slow and hard, almost like he’s savouring the feeling of you around him. And it’s tantalizing, the way his cock feels. Your body just wants to inhale him in any way possible. So you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him even closer so he can just grind into you. The moan you let out is long and sweet to his ears, makes him want to hear more, taste more.

You kiss as best you can, one hand digging into your waist to keep you steady, while the other makes its way between your bodies.

“Fuck, fuck-” you moan out at the feeling of his fingers rubbing at your clit. It’s painful the way the pleasure gets dragged through you again. But you love it, love the way it confuses your senses to the point that you can’t help but breathe out an airy laugh.

“(Y/N),” groans out Seungmin into your ear. “Shit you feel so good.”

His thrusts become irregular, and soon you find yourself trying to hold off, counting down the breaths until he finally cums, fucking into you so hard that you know you’ll be able to feel him.

And when that happens, your orgasm cums out through the trembles of your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. He kisses you breathlessly as you both come down, still connected and basking in the moment of you intertwined.

When you pull back, you grin. “Happy Early Birthday,” you say again. You’re sure he’ll hear it a few times this weekend.

He smirks, finally pulling away. It always feels weird at first, to be empty. But he still remains close, and it’s enough.

“Happy, indeed.” His gaze stays on you, searching.

It’s your turn to inquire, “What are you thinking about?”

He gives a heavy sigh, and you ready yourself for some heartfelt words that will sound incredibly cheesy.

“I think I want cake now.”

You shove his chest automatically, giggling just as he does.

“How about we shower first. You never like the feeling of bodily fluids drying on you.”

He turns his nose up. “Why do you have to call them ‘bodily fluids’? That just sounds nasty.”

“Should I just say you need to clean your dick, then?”

Your legs feel like jelly when you slide down from the counter top, but you regain your strength quickly, walking back to the bathroom down the hall. Seungmin follows close behind, complaining about your phrasings.

When he grabs you from behind, your peripheral catches the reflection coming from the window in the bedroom. To feel so free in this way, you know this kind of life you could easily acclimate to. And just as you suspected, this is the plan for the future: to love him as he loves you, to be in your own world with him as everything around you keeps going.

Val’s Note:

Somehow this ended up being perfect timing since our Seungmin’s birthday is coming soon! It seems like the Seungmin smut tag is lacking, and I understand why. He’s normally just this adorable guy, even when he’s not meaning to be. But we’re not about to just fly by him during this era in particular??? Hello????

If you’d like to make a request for the Dean Title Track fic, you can do so, here!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #seungmin fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids headcanons

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doienseatee · 3 years

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One with the Star

Gif not mine

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, College

Note: This is my first ever au so please bear in mind that I’m still learning. Inconsistent updates for this series, so please be patient with me. I’ll try my best to update regularly. :>

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You developed a crush on the school band’s vocalist and somehow got close with him when your friend, Jungwoo, joined them. You’re too shy to make a move and so you are more than happy to be friends with a star like him.

CHAPTER 1

next chapter

As someone who prefers to just lay in bed on a weekend and do nothing productive at all, it's a surprise to see yourself in the Freshman Night that the school organized. Is it the college thrill or is it the fear of missing out? or maybe it's just an abrupt change of heart? nonetheless, the first 30 minutes of the celebration already convinced you that you chose the right decision. The vocalist of the opening act definitely caught your attention and made you stay the night and just skip your weekend movie marathon date with yourself. You were so ready to just drop everything that you got from the buffet table and watch him sing an unknown song to you but luckily, you maintained your composure and sat on a table while quietly observing the vocalist.

"Hi! Mind if I share the table with you?" diverted your attention from the stunning man that you were watching just a few seconds ago and you had no choice but to force yourself to focus on eating to avoid embarrassment from the man in front of you or at least you tried because your ears were still listening to the man's angelic voice and wondering how can someone look THAT good and have THAT talent, how crazy.

You never intended to initiate a conversation with anyone but thanks to Jungwoo's special ability to connect with people, you blurted out words more than what you expected when you decided to attend the party and you spent the night hanging out with him. Eventually, you found out that both of you are taking up Mechanical Engineering — just from a different class, his educational background (and of course, it means that you shared yours too), that he aspires to be a singer on the side, and somehow you found out about the man of your night's name: Kim Dongyoung, a 3rd year major in Performing Arts Department. Apparently, Jungwoo aims to be a part of Dongyoung's band since they amaze him so much even wayback highschool that ultimately became a goal for him to enter the band when he steps in the college life. You wish him luck and told him that you should see him on stage on the next party to which he manifested excitedly.

—

On your 2nd month being a college student, a lot happened and with a lot, it means a lot of requirements and deadlines to pass and numerous sleepless nights. You weren't really aiming to be the top of the class and you just wanted to maintain having good grades but college is really testing your capability and patience. Luckily, you got closer to Jungwoo even more and you stick with each other most of the time. You were both working on your projects together especially you were both in the same field. One day while you were both completing a requirement, he asked you to join him on his auditions for the school band — NCT. It was as if dead butterflies came to life when you heard the band's name for college stressed you out so much that you totally forgot about the stunning man that you saw on the freshman night. Of course, you didn't express your delight in fear of being embarrassed but you said yes, after all you will still accompany him .

That same night, you somehow found a leisure time and searched for Dongyoung's social media accounts and you stumbled upon his Instagram account. To say the least, he was active in posting photos and they all showcased his features that you didn't really notice when you saw him. You slept with a lot of new favorite photos and a smile on your face.

—

Hearing Jungwoo practice for his audition piece made you fall for him even more but in a platonic way if that even makes sense. His angelic voice suits Dean's Instagram so much but there were times when you just suddenly think of Dongyoung's account when he sings the piece. It's safe to say that you developed a crush on Dongyoung but you were neither gonna admit it nor make a move. You're happy by just thinking about him and you look forward to seeing him more on stage — with Jungwoo as their member of course.

You still have a lot of pending requirements to finish but you didn't have any plans facing them right now for you wanted to show your full support to Jungwoo. The band is urgently in need of another vocalist for the past member already graduated and they need a new recruit to perform with them on the Sports Fest week and you were so sure that Jungwoo will be accepted, you just know it.

The audition was held on an open space somewhere that people often pass by and so anyone can hear those who are trying to be a part of the band. Hearing the other students who are also hoping to be a member of the band definitely made Jungwoo (and you) nervous at some point but you encouraged him to not be swayed by them for he has the capability to surpass them. You were jittery when his turn was near but of course, as usual, you didn't make it obvious for you know that Jungwoo's talents. The fact that Kim Dongyoung aka your crush is just a few meters away isn't also helping. Naturally, he will be here to screen those who are trying out too, right? But maybe it was the nervousness from Jungwoo's audition that made you forget about his certain presence in this audition and you were mentally scolding yourself for that.

The moment that Jungwoo's name was called by Taeyong, the band's leader, for his turn, everything happened quickly in a blink of an eye. You didn't have much time to process everything that happened but in conclusion, Jungwoo got the role and he's now part of NCT!!! You both hugged each other out of joy and excitement only to be cut off by another member named Jaehyun.

"Hey Jungwoo! Wanna have lunch with us? Your girl can join us." was what he offered but both of you of were startled when he thought that you were his girlfriend so you two immediately denied the assumption to which they complied, or at least you thought. You were also supposed to reject having lunch with them and let Jungwoo hang out with the band but the band insisted, Dongyoung included, that you join them too so you didn't have a choice but to sit with the five men you are eating with right now.

They introduced themselves one by one from Lee Taeyong, the leader, Kim Dongyoung or Doyoung, for he prefers being called Doyoung instead, Jung Jaehyun, a 2nd year major in Mechanical Engineering too, and finally Mark, who's a freshman too. Basically, you were just talking about how their group was formed way back high school that's why Mark is a part of the band already. They also complimented Jungwoo a lot and that they've been searching for exactly someone like him and that made you smile out of pride but it was soon your turn to be interrogated. They asked for your name and how you met Jungwoo, your high school life and all the basic information including your (non-existent) love life. They also apologized that they mistook you as Jungwoo's girl but proceeds to tell you that you both look good together. Of course, you tried to explain that you were just platonic and Jungwoo agreed but they were adamant so you just let them be besides, Doyoung is in front of you so you just went with the flow to not leave a bad impression on your crush after all.

You all separated ways when it was time for your next class although for sure, you will see them more often in the upcoming days since they ordered Jungwoo to bring you along during practice and knowing the man, he won't leave you alone until you agree.

—

You were halfway through your class when your phone vibrated indicating a notification from your social media accounts. You got curious so you checked it for a split second only to see that someone followed you on your Instagram account.

"@do0_nct is now following you."

-------

CHAPTER 2

*** chapter 2 is now up :)

#nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #doyoung fluff #doyoung au #doyoung x reader #jungwoo #taeyong #mark #jaehyun #nct u #nct 2020 #nct fluff

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destielreboot · 3 years

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Something Worth Celebrating

Summary: Dean’s tired of Cas not understanding his not-so-subtle hints that he’s in love with him, so panics his way through using a movie to make his point clear, as if that makes any more sense.

Words: ~3.8k

Read on AO3

Dean never really celebrated his birthday, not in any way that mattered. It was a date that marked him maybe surviving another year, and he figured it couldn’t be all that accurate a marker anymore given that he’d died so many times. Was he supposed to subtract the four months in Hell? Was his birthday now after Sam’s? None of it mattered much, and he was not about to accidentally jinx himself or something by celebrating an arbitrary day. Instead, he grumbled all the way home about the snow and salted roads being bad for Baby, then immediately went to his room and started flipping through his movie collection with the hope a new case wouldn’t come in for at least a few hours.

“Dean?” Cas knocked once and swung the door halfway open. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find something to watch. I figure I deserve a bit of R&R after the week we’ve had.”

“Of course. Ghouls are never particularly pleasant, although the hunt went well, all things considered.”

“Hell of a lot better than the last one. You stickin’ around for a while?”

“I have no plans to leave.”

Dean looked back down at the drawer full of DVDs and smiled softly. “Good. It’s nice to have you here.”

“Dean? Can I… watch the movie with you?”

“Uh, yeah, as you wish.”

Dean’s hands shook slightly as he picked up a DVD case. It was dumb—so recklessly stupid—and if it didn’t work out, he’d have to live with that, but Cas hadn’t said a word about the mixtape. Not a damn thing about something he’d spent hours anxiously perfecting. Odds were good this would go over his head as well, but hey, at least they were spending time together. And not even Cas would leave during a movie unless there was an emergency, right?

“What are we watching?” Cas timidly sat on the edge of Dean’s bed, the usual comfort level gone as this was Dean’s space, and Cas had become nothing if not respectful of that boundary.

“A classic from my childhood.”

“It’s designed for children?” Cas narrowed his eyes and frowned.

“No, it’s—it’s about… pirates and thieves, sacrifice, rewriting destiny—” The words slipped out of their own volition, as they weren’t quite true, but then again, Dean wasn’t solely focused on the plot of the film. “Um, it’s about overcoming evil forces, fighting for those you care about, and outsmarting the enemy.”

“No cowboys?”

“No cowboys,” Dean chuckled as he put The Princess Bride into the DVD player. He plopped down onto the bed and kicked his feet up, instinctively patting the place next to him so Cas wouldn’t stay perched on the edge. “Settle in, I think you’re gonna like this one.”

Cas inched closer, far too conscious of Dean’s repeated complaints about lack of personal space to get close, but he let himself relax slightly as the movie started.

“This time period is inconsistent with most pirate-centric media. Dean, what does this ill child have to do with the plot you described?”

“Shh, just watch.”

Cas begrudgingly obliged, although biting his tongue was never his strong suit. He’d joined Dean for enough movie nights to know his questions would not be answered, and silence was the preferred initial viewing state—aside from laughter, that is; the uproarious joy that bellowed from his best friend never failed to elicit a smile from the angel.

The first few times he heard Westley say “As you wish” seemed inconsequential, as Dean had been incessantly quoting movies at him for years, and it wasn’t difficult to see why he would relate to this roguish character. He was vaguely aware of Dean glancing back and forth between him and the screen, no doubt to make sure he was paying attention, a task that would be much easier if he didn’t feel Dean’s eyes on him quite so often.

For the most part, Cas did well at keeping quiet, though certain absurdities in the movie had him itching to ask questions.

“What is the point of her throwing herself down this hill? I understand that it’s too steep for comfortable walking, but there has to be a more convenient way to reach the bottom.”

“I guess it’s supposed to be sort of romantic?” Dean shrugged. “She’s just been reunited with Westley after believing he’d died; she doesn’t want to waste time getting to him.”

“Hmm.” Cas looked pensively at Dean for a moment, then turned back to the tv with a hint of a smile.

“Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while,” Westley declared.

“Do you believe in the existence of true love, Dean?” Cas asked innocently.

“I—uh—um—I’m gonna go grab a drink,” Dean stammered. He did his best to nonchalantly leave the room, an action made far more difficult by his pounding heart. Once safely in the hallway, his pace quickened dramatically. If he was going to have a panic attack, it’d be away from prying eyes. Jack may have been at Jody and Donna’s, but Sam was home—he couldn’t see him like this. Diverting his path, he headed for the Dean Cave instead and sunk into one of the recliners.

He knew it was stupid to be panicking over something so small, but this was the closest he’d ever come to outright stating how he felt, and it was scary, goddammit. Growing up, he would’ve been beaten for even entertaining the idea—John didn’t raise no goddamn fruit—and that intense unease had settled itself into his very being, become a core tenet of his identity. Undoing several decades of damage was more difficult than he’d ever imagined, but fucking hell, he wanted to try.

It took longer than he’d hoped for his breathing to return to normal, which amped up the fear that Cas would come looking for him, and he realized on his way to the kitchen that he’d probably need an excuse. He grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge—maybe Cas would drink one, maybe Dean would end up chugging both—and turned to go back before thinking better of it. He pulled some popcorn out of the pantry and tossed it in the microwave, hoping Cas wouldn’t know how quickly it cooked. Once it was done, Dean took a few deep breaths to steady himself, dumped the popcorn into a bowl, and walked as calmly as possible back to his room.

Coming back with a snack seemed to somewhat assuage Cas’s concern for Dean having been gone so long, but Dean could tell he would be asked about it later.

“You missed the Fire Swamp and something called the Pit of Despair? I can’t find much validity in the mechanics of the machine, although the concept is interesting. Taking time off the end of life, which is by its very nature uncertain, rather than reducing to a set number of years.”

“Try not to think about it too hard.” Dean smirked, holding out the second beer as he settled in. Cas habitually accepted the offer, even though everything tasted like molecules. He didn’t mind too much; partaking always seemed to make Dean happy, a sight Cas didn’t see nearly enough.

“I agree with the pestering child on this one, killing off the hero of the story this early makes no sense. Unless, of course, they live in a world like ours? Is there someone who can return his soul to his physical form, as I did with you?”

Dean choked on the handful of popcorn he’d just stuffed in his mouth. Cas looked on, worried, as Dean coughed and took a swig of his beer.

“Uh, no, nothing like that… They’ll, uh, they’ll explain it.”

“Hmm. Are you alright, Dean? You seem… preoccupied.”

“What? I’m fine.” He picked up the bowl and held it out. “Popcorn?”

“Dean.” Cas took it from him and set it further down the bed as he pivoted to face Dean, sliding a bent leg across the blanket between them.

Dean made a show of rolling his eyes. “I said I’m fine, Cas. You’re missing Billy Crystal.”

“We could pause the movie, if you’d like. Ordinarily I wouldn’t push—”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, sure. Can we just… not do this right now?” He raised his hands in resignation and let them drop without looking, one landing on the outside of his left thigh, the other on Cas’s knee.

Dean immediately felt heat rush to his cheeks as they stared at each other, unmoving, for an undetermined amount of time. He was vaguely aware of the Miracle Max scene happening in the background, containing yet another discussion of true love, and he prayed Cas wasn’t paying attention. This had to happen now?

“Dean?” Cas asked softly, finally breaking the silence enveloping them despite the continuing movie, which was obviously oblivious to the quiet scene of bi panic unfolding in front of the screen. “You seem uncomfortable and in distress. Can I—”

“I’m fine!” Dean responded a little too loudly, too quickly. He jerked his hand back, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fist, his thumb rubbing over his fingertips, as if trying to force the feeling of touching Cas’s knee into his memory.

Cas continued to fix him with that concerned gaze he was all too familiar with, so he downed the rest of his beer as a distraction. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he saw Cas run his own fingers over his leg exactly where Dean’s hand had been, but surely it was out of discomfort, right? Friendly pats on the back and occasionally the knee were common enough, but accidental lingering touches? Not so much.

“I need a refill. You?” Dean asked, although he didn’t wait for an answer, once again quickly making his way down the hall.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Dean just about dropped his empty bottle, having not noticed Sam seated at the kitchen table with some sort of preposterously healthy grain bowl in front of him.

“Will everyone stop asking me that?” he huffed, his free hand on his chest. “I’m fine.” He set the bottle on the island and pulled the fridge open. They were down to their last few beers, and, simultaneously thinking too much and not enough, Dean turned around to search for something stronger instead.

“Don’t bullshit me.” Sam gave Dean his best bitch face—probably the best he’d seen in years—and stood, crossing his arms. “Is this about what happened with the ghoul? Because there’s no way we could’ve—”

“Yep, that’s it. Congrats, Dr. Phil, you’ve done whatever psych crap and managed to cure me. How on earth do you do it?”

“Dean.” Sam followed him out of the kitchen and back toward the library, where they’d most recently stashed their rolling booze cart—yet another feature of the bunker Dean still couldn’t quite wrap his head around, although he had to admit it was rather nice.

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me, I’m fine. It’s been a long week, cut me some slack.” He unscrewed the top of the whiskey bottle and poured a generous amount into a glass. Sam shot him another exasperated look. Dean sarcastically saluted as he backed out of the library.

He stopped just outside his door and took a quiet breath, releasing slowly, urging the tension in his chest out with it. He glanced in and couldn’t help but soften at the view in front of him: Cas was engrossed in the wedding scene, albeit a bit confused by the clergyman. Dean watched him take a drink of his beer and wince, an instinct he almost always suppressed around others.

Once Inigo, Fezzik, and Westley were back on screen, Dean sauntered back in. Cas immediately turned and smiled at him, but his brow furrowed at the sight of the whiskey glass. Dean shrugged and took a sip, savoring the slight burn and the slow spreading warmth. He flashed Cas a reassuring grin as he sat down on his side of the bed.

Everything was fine, it had to be. Besides, Cas had definitely missed some important dialogue, so all Dean had to do was get through the end of the movie and shrug all his anxious behavior off as lingering effects of the hunt; there was a good chance Cas wouldn’t believe him, but if he got adamant enough, he’d be left alone. Not that alone was what he really wanted, but it was better than rejected or ridiculed, and he was far too accustomed to being by himself—yet another thing to thank his father for.

They got through the rest of the movie without another incident, even if the silence was a tad tense. As the credits rolled, Dean glanced over and noticed Cas was frowning.

“So… uh, did you… did you like the movie?”

“I still have many questions that have gone unanswered. Or, rather, we were otherwise occupied while they were explained, I suppose.”

“We did, uh, miss a few things.”

“Also, I’m no expert on the matter, but I’m old enough to know with relative certainty that there have been kisses more ‘passionate and pure’ than that one. I assume this particular kiss isn’t leading to the consummation of their relationship, as carnal desire would prevent it from being pure, I suppose, but I’m afraid I cannot agree with the story’s assessment.”

“The slow-burn romance wasn’t drawn out enough for you, huh?” Dean laughed.

“She only believed him dead twice, Dean. I think our own experiences have reduced the impact of that. Besides, their relationship required more exposition. With what we were given, you can’t expect me to be truly invested.”

“Maybe she should’ve died at least once, just to shake it up a bit.”

“My sentiments exactly. Westley cannot understand the same levels of grief without experiencing it firsthand, and it’s always more interesting to allow characters beyond just the hero the chance to die. Imagine how monotonous our lives would be if we only consistently lost one of us.”

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a goofy smile plastered on his face. His shoulders shook as he laughed, the bed eventually shuddering along with the movement.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny, Dean.”

“It’s just… Our lives are so ridiculous. No one else watches this and thinks it’s not realistic enough because only Westley dies and gets resurrected.”

“I’m aware it’s outside of the usual human experience, of course, but I also can’t help but—” He paused, eyes widening slightly. “Never mind.”

“C’mon, Cas, you know you can’t do that! Say it.”

“I’d really prefer keeping it to myself, thank you.”

“Cas, dude, just say it.”

“You won’t let this go, will you?”

“You know I won’t.” Dean smirked.

“Fine,” Cas sighed. “I can’t help but see similarities between the characters and, well, our family.”

“Oh, of course, I project us onto characters all the time! I’m Westley, right?”

“Buttercup, actually.”

“I—” The smile slipped from Dean’s face. “You see me as the princess? Why?”

“You’re both stubborn and remarkably willing to sacrifice yourself for those you love.”

“You know, I did not show you this movie just so you could turn around and attack me,” Dean grumbled, but he flashed Cas a small smile so he wouldn’t take the complaint too seriously.

“I feel it’s a proper evaluation of your character.” Cas shrugged and grinned back.

“Does that make you Westley, then?”

It took Dean approximately two seconds after the words left his mouth to process what he’d said, fear twisting his stomach into knots as he realized the implications of it. Cas, on the other hand, chuckled quietly and looked down at his beer bottle.

“I suppose Westley saving Buttercup from the quicksand does mirror me pulling you out of Hell, at least a bit.”

“Lightning sand. Way cooler than quicksand,” Dean corrected, latching on to anything that would distract from his question.

“Ah, yes. Lightning sand. It’s no match for Hell, but I don’t need to tell you that.”

“Yeah… Hey, I don’t think I’m ready to turn in for the night yet, would you want to watch something else? You can pick, if you’d like.”

“As you wish.”

Dean froze, his hand halfway to his whiskey glass, the gears in his head screaming into motion. It wasn’t every day that Cas made a movie reference, especially one with such a blatantly romantic connotation. He was well aware of his own intention in saying it before the movie, but was Cas just emulating him? Picking up on yet another of his habits? Or— No, no. Dean had to remind himself that Cas wasn’t human, that he couldn’t experience affection the same way, that everything else had completely escaped his understanding.

He figured he’d put his foot in his mouth enough times that evening, he should just change his mind about stretching this out any longer, just go to bed. But the thought gnawed at him, the silence had continued to the point of becoming awkward, he needed to say something.

Dean turned to face Cas and swallowed down his pride and insecurities, hope and fear clashing across his features. Cas was waiting patiently with a soft smile, his bright eyes crinkling beautifully.

“Did you just—” Dean whispered, his voice getting caught in his throat.

“I believe so. Did I use the line incorrectly?”

“No—I… I just never thought—”

“That’s fine, too,” Cas quickly cut him off, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“Cas.” Dean reached out and tentatively brushed his fingers lightly across the angel’s stubbled cheek before settling on his shoulder, thumb resting softy on the side of his neck. “Why do you think I said it?”

It was as if someone had just powered Cas back up, he so nearly glowed with joy, and Dean thought to himself that this was the most angelic he’d ever looked. Messy hair, glassy-eyed, and all, he was stunning.

Dean felt the knots in his stomach unravel, the weight he’d been carrying for so long lessened. The hesitation of entering unknown territory faded as it started to sink in that Cas wanted this, too, and he stopped thinking, painfully aware that if he thought about it too much, he’d never do it. And he so desperately needed to do this.

He leaned forward, making his intent clear while also looking for consent, and Cas eagerly met him in the middle. It wasn’t the most graceful kiss, as they were both a little out of practice and had yet to learn each other’s rhythms, but Dean was looking forward to learning.

Cas rested his forehead against Dean’s and sighed contentedly.

“With a little more practice, I think we could top Buttercup and Westley’s kiss.”

“I’d like that,” Cas laughed, his warm breath tickling Dean’s nose.

“Their slow-burn seems almost boring next to ours.”

“Oh, speaking of…” Cas straightened up suddenly, causing Dean to have to catch himself before he fell face-first into the angel’s shoulder.

“Speaking of?”

“I missed how they brought Westley back,” Cas said sheepishly. “Would you mind explaining?”

“A little distracted, were you?” Dean smiled cheekily and leaned in for another kiss, something he could never imagine getting tired of doing.

“More than a little.”

Dean launched into a detailed explanation of the Miracle Max scene, the chocolate-coated miracle pill, and the plan to break into the castle before the wedding, going so far as to include all the dialogue he could remember off the top of his head. Cas tilted his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder and laughed at the exaggerated voices, each distinct and absurd in their own way. When the story was over, they slipped into a comfortable silence, Dean’s arm snaked around Cas’s waist, personal space no longer a concern.

After some time, Cas glanced at the clock on the nightstand and was startled to find it was nearly midnight.

“Oh, before it gets too late…” He lifted his head and placed a hand gently on Dean’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Dean. I would’ve gotten you a gift—”

“There’s nothing I want more than this.”

…

The following morning, Dean woke up early and decided to make breakfast, tossing some slabs of bacon on a baking sheet to crisp up in the oven. Sam stumbled in a few minutes later, drawn in by the aroma. He gave Dean a questioning look and was met with a broad grin.

“Rise and shine, Sammy! Are you going to eat like a normal person, or do I have to separate your eggs for you?”

“I… uh, just the whites would be great, thanks.”

“Normal person breakfast, it is!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he turned on the coffeemaker, but he smiled quietly to himself, glad to see Dean had gotten over whatever had been bothering him the night before.

Cas wandered in as Dean pulled the bacon out of the oven, and Sam just about choked on his coffee; instead of his usual trench coat and suit, Cas was wearing a soft purple and blue flannel he’d most definitely pulled from Dean’s closet, and he’d neglected to button nearly the entire top half.

“Mornin’, sunshine!” Dean slapped his hand away from the hot tray and passed him a mug of coffee instead. “You lookin’ to burn yourself?”

“I’m an angel, you ass,” Cas chuckled, stepping around him to reach the bacon. “I can do what I want.”

“You can’t even taste it properly.”

“Dean, too much grease is bad for your health,” Cas deadpanned as he took a bite of the still steaming rasher. It was hotter than he’d anticipated, but nothing a little grace couldn’t fix.

Sam cleared his throat loudly and gestured at the stovetop, where the eggs were burning.

“Fuck!”

“Good morning, Sam.” Cas took a sip of his coffee as he walked toward the table. “How was your night?”

“Evidently not as good as yours.” Sam looked up at him in stunned disbelief. “You two finally figure your shit out?”

“Hell of a way to phrase it, but yeah.” Dean beamed as he set the plate of bacon on the table, his other arm slung around Cas’s shoulder. “This idiot’s in love with me. Who knew?”

“Practically everyone else,” Sam laughed. “But I’m really happy for you guys, I don’t know anyone more deserving of this. One request, though, seeing as Jack and I live here, too.”

“Shoot.”

“Minimal PDA in communal spaces?”

“No deal.” Dean grinned and promptly pulled Cas in for a kiss.

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anxiousnerdwritings · 3 years

Note

So the platonic Yan!Winchesters + Cas are touchy feely with Reader right? How do you think they'd react if Reader was touch avoidant? Like, she swats them away when they go for head pats, boops and forehead kisses, ducks their hugs, doesn't sit next to them so they can't initiate cuddles. I don't think they'd put up with that for too long tbh

None of them would put up with that for very long at all! I think Dean would probably break first, even though he doesn't give the most affection. Sam and Cas will follow suit. Next thing Reader knows she's pulled into a tight ass bear hug by Sam. Then Dean and Cas come along and make it a group hug/cuddle session. You can fight it all you want but they aren't gonna give you any space now.

#anxious answers

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saltandburnsis · 4 years

Text

pilot, pt. 1

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Jess

Age: 20

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,261

Summary: Dean and Y/N are off to find John in Jericho, but Dean has a stop to make and another passenger to pick up on the way.

A/N: All dialogue taken from the show will be in italics.

Dean looked to his co-pilot with a soft smile. The maps she'd been endlessly perusing—uselessly, for he'd given her a false destination—were now covering her torso like a much-to-small blanket. He felt terrible for lying to her, but this wasn't a time for an argument, and he'd known that's all he would've been in store for had he let her know they were making a stop before Jericho.

He’d spent his life protecting her, but he couldn't protect her from everything. He couldn't protect her from the pain of their brother leaving. And now, with their father missing, he couldn't protect her from whatever feelings may arise when she laid eyes on the middle Winchester. So, instead of continuing to dwell on his shortcomings, he turned his gaze back to the road, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and pressed harder on the gas. A cloud of dust was all that followed the old car, which was just the way Dean liked it.

------

Dean shook your arm, not violently by any means, but harder than you would've liked. You mumbled an incoherent complaint before rubbing your eyes and sitting up in the seat.

"We in Jericho yet?" You looked around outside, trying to make sense of the buildings in the darkness.

"Come on," Dean replied as he stepped out of the car and shut his door. You grumbled but obeyed, following him over to one of the buildings. You narrowed your eyes as he surveyed the fire escape on the side.

"Dean, what the hell do you think you're doing? Dad wouldn’t be in a place like this. I'm not breaking in without cause," you whispered, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We have cause. It's because I said we are. Just trust me." With that, he grabbed onto the rungs of the bottom balcony and hoisted himself up. You rolled your eyes but followed suit, silently trailing after your brother up four flights of stairs before he stopped at one of the windows.

"What are you doing leaving this open? Didn't you learn anything?" You heard him mutter as he slid his hands into the opening and slowly raised the window. Once he had it open, he swung one leg inside, then the other, poking his head out to look at you once he was in. "Coming?"

"If you tell me where the hell we are once I'm in," you replied, mimicking your brother's actions and entering the apartment. Rather than answer you, Dean began walking through the space, looking around at all that adorned the shelves and walls. You followed suit, eager for an answer. Just as you'd stopped to get a better look at one of the photos on the wall, a hand came at you from behind, grabbing your arm and flipping you onto the ground. The action knocked the wind out of you. As you stood and tried to catch your breath, the stranger began to fight with Dean. Within seconds, however, Dean had him pinned to the ground.

"Whoa. Easy, tiger." Dean flashed a smile down at the man.

"Dean? You scared the crap outta me," Sam scoffed incredulously. You narrowed your eyes. What the hell were you doing here?

"That's 'cause you're out of practice." Dean was still grinning. That is, he was until Sam flipped the duo seemingly effortlessly and had Dean pinned to the ground. Dean chuckled in response. "Or not."

After the initial shock of being in the same room as your older brother for the first time in four years began to wear off and you’d found your voice, you crossed the room and stood over the two of them, arms crossed.

“You two finished?”

“Get off me.” Dean pushed Sam off of him. As Dean fixed his jacket, Sam took a few steps back, eyes never leaving you and Dean.

“Dean, Y/N. What the hell are you doing here?” You looked to Dean, eager to hear his response.

“Well, I was looking for a beer,” Dean answered with a smirk. Sam opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the light flicked on. The three of you looked over to the doorway to find a blonde woman watching you.

“Jess. Dean, Y/N. This is my girlfriend, Jessica.” Sam looked at both groups—his two worlds colliding—nervous after making the introductions.

Jess looked at him, eyes wide in surprise. “Wait, your brother and sister?” Dean smiled and gestured to her shirt.

“I love the Smurfs.” He began to walk over to her. “You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother’s league.” You rolled your eyes.

“Just let me put something on.” Jess started to turn away, but Dean piped up almost immediately.

“No, no. No, I wouldn’t dream of it, seriously.” You grabbed your brother’s arm and pulled him away from the girl, hitting the back of his head when he was close enough. He cast a quick glare at you before turning back to Jess.

“Anyway, we got to borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But nice meeting you.” Sam looked to Jess as Dean spoke, then quickly crossed the room to stand at her side.

“No. Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.”

“Okay. Dad hasn’t been home in a few days,” Dean replied. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s words.

“So he’s working overtime on a “Miller Time” shift. He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

Dean looked down at the ground for a moment before turning back to Sam.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

--------

You and Dean stood in the living room while Sam was in the bedroom changing. Dean continued to peruse the pictures on the walls, avoiding your glare. Finally, you spoke up.

“What the hell are we doing here, Dean? He left, and we don’t need his help finding Dad.”

“If that thing has Dad, we’re going to need all the help we can get. Like it or not, we need Sam.”

“Yeah, the old Sam. But college boy? Who’s to say he’s not going to walk us out to the car just to tell us not to come back? We don’t need him. Dean, Dad could be in danger. Every minute we’re here trying to convince someone who won’t be convinced is time we’re not helping him,” you said, eyes darting over towards the closed bedroom door in case Sam walked out.

“You don’t think I know that? Y/N, we’ve got our best chance at finding Dad if we’re together. I’m not fighting about this.” You crossed your arms but remained silent. Sam emerged from the bedroom shortly after.

“Let’s go outside,” he stated, looking between you and Dean. Dean nodded and walked to the front door, leading the two of you out of the apartment.

“You know, you guys can’t just break in in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you,” Sam chastised as he followed Dean down the stairs.

“You’re not hearing me, Sammy. Dad’s missing. We need you to help us find him.”

“You remember the poltergeist in Amherst or the devil’s gates in Clifton? He was missing then, too. He’s always missing, and he’s always fine.” Sam stopped at the bottom of the stairs as Dean turned back to look at him, leaving you stuck behind him.

“Not for this long. Now, are you gonna come with us or not?”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“I swore I was done hunting for good,” Sam stated. At this, you pushed past Sam to stand beside Dean.

“Come on,” Dean scoffed. ”It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that bad.” He started walking toward the building’s exit, you and Sam on his trail.

“Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45.” You looked up at your older brother.

“What was he supposed to do?” you questioned.

“I was nine years old. He was supposed to say, ‘don’t be afraid of the dark.’”

“‘Don’t be afraid of the dark?’” Dean was incredulous. “What, are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid. You know what’s out there.”

“Yeah, I know. Still—the way we grew up after Mom was killed, and Dad’s obsession to find the thing that killed her, but we still haven’t found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find.”

“Save a lot of people doing it, too. What, are we supposed to sit back and knowingly let innocent people die just because we haven’t found that one thing?” You couldn’t keep from lashing out, anger clear in your voice. Did he really think every life they saved and every monster they destroyed was negated because you’d yet to find Yellow Eyes?

“No. I just…” Sam sighed and looked at Dean. “You think Mom would have wanted this for us?” You stormed outside and over to the car, Dean close behind you. Sam followed you both, continuing his questions. “The weapon training and melting the silver into bullets? Man, we were raised like warriors.”

“So, what are you gonna do? Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?” Dean looked back at his younger brother.

“No, not normal,” Sam replied. “Safe.”

“And that’s why you ran away. That’s why you abandoned your family,” you shot back.

“I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone. And that’s what I’m doing.”

“That didn’t mean you had to leave Dean and me in the dust.” Your voice was softer with this, less angry and more sorrowful. Almost as if you didn’t want that heard. Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Dean spoke first.

“Dad’s in real trouble right now, if he’s not dead already. I can feel it. We can’t do this alone.”

“Yes, you can,” Sam countered before you could.

“Yeah. Well, I don’t want to.” Dean broke eye contact with Sam and looked down at the ground. Sam was silent for a minute before letting out a long sigh.

“What was he hunting?” Dean looked to you and you begrudgingly went into the backseat of the car, grabbing your backpack.

“It’s going to take me a minute to find everything,” you warned, mentally chastising yourself for throwing the papers in your bag so haphazardly before you left. The details of the demon you’d been pursuing and the information you’d helped John find before he left were intermingled in your bag. You made quick work of unshuffling the two cases.

“So when Dad left, why didn’t you guys go with him?” Sam asked Dean. Dean shrugged.

“The kid and I were working our own gigs down in New Orleans,” he replied, leaning back against the trunk of the car.

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?” Sam chuckled.

“I’m 26, dude.”

“Finally,” you tossed your bag back into the car and stepped closer to your brothers. “Alright, so, Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy—“ you handed one of the papers to Sam. “—they found his car, but he’d vanished. Completely M.I.A.”

“So maybe he was kidnapped,” Sam theorized, looking down at the paper. You scoffed and began handing him the rest of the papers one by one while Dean opened the trunk and began rooting around.

“Yeah, well, here’s another one in April. Another one in December ’04, ’03, ’98, ’92—10 of ‘em over the past 20 years—all men, all same 5-mile stretch of road,” you finished your explanation and looked to Dean. He finally found what he was looking for and continued the run-through.

“It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. We hadn’t heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I got this voicemail yesterday.” Dean hit play on the tape player and held it out for Sam to hear.

“You know there’s EVP on that?” Sam asked once the recording had stopped.

“Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn’t it?” You rolled your eyes and took the tape player from Dean.

“I slowed it down and ran it through a GoldWave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got.” You hit play and let the EVP play through.

“Never go home,” Sam repeated once the recording had finished. You handed Dean the player, and he stuck it back in the trunk before closing it up and turning back to Sam.

“You know, in almost two years, I’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.” Sam sighed and looked at the apartment building before looking back at you and Dean.

“Alright, I’ll go. I’ll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.” He turned away and started to head back into the apartment building. You furrowed your brow.

“What’s first thing Monday?” you called after him. Sam stopped and turned back to look at you.

“I have an interview.” He seemed uneasy telling you even that.

“What, a job interview?” Dean asked. “Skip it.”

“It’s a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate.” Sam straightened up a bit at this reveal, proud of his plans.

“Law school?” Dean questioned.

“So, we got a deal or not?”

………..

forever taglist: @griff1ndor @gothsatanicrapunzel @choosemyname @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @not-astounding @sassy-specter @vicmc624 @idksupernatural

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shoulda-been-a-redhead · 3 years

Text

Birdcage:: set circa 1998

“De-ja-vu right?”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

...,,,...

Dean stalked down the stairway carefully, taking lengthy efforts not to make a creaking noise on the arid wood stairs. The basement he entered was pitch dark and already stunk of death. The only light was the light from the doorway above him, which soon slammed shut with a vengeance. Have to deal with that later, he thought bitterly.

He felt around the walls for some kind of switch or lever to initiate light.

When he found a large lever he pressed it up with a clang, preparing for bright lights to surround him, but the control only yielded a small light in thte middle of the room.

“What the—!”

A scrambling happened and huge chains squeaked as the biggest bird cage Dean had ever seen swung suspended by the chains. The figure inside retreated to the furthest part of the circular cage away from Dean as it could, throwing the cage off balance even more.

“Dean?” Sam said quietly with an urgent whisper.

“Sammy?”

“Thank God,” Sam sunk to his knees and crawled to the bars closer to his brother.

“What the hell?” Dean neared the swinging cage and dodged it. He grabbed on and skidded with it to stop at the bottom of its pendulum swing. The bottom of it was still four feet off the ground. The platform of the bottom of the cage was probably about eight feet in diameter. The height was about twelve feet. The bottom was a sheet of thick, solid metal, and the bars that extended vertical were fused into the platform. The bars were thicker than Dean’s forearm and made of the same metal as the base. They came to an arch at the top of the cage where a single light hung down a foot or so. There was no doubt: it was basically a birdcage. One difference: there didn’t seem to be a door.

“I don’t know man. I woke up in here.” Sam’s face came more into the light and Dean almost flinched back. “What?” Sam asked.

“Um...” Dean didn’t know where to start. Sam had a dark bruise the shape of the tread indentions of a large boot across his face. His nose was crooked— obviously broken— and one eye was bloodshot and watering. “Nothin’.”

“Come on. I know its bad.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s stomach turned with disgusted guilt. “Yeah. Don’t worry we’ll getcha fixed up. How long you been awake?”

“I dunno. How long have I been here?”

“A few days.” That was not quite true. It had been a week. But Dean didn’t know what answer Sam needed.

“Oh. I have no idea then. They’ve come in like three times.” Sam said.

“Who?”

“The people-things.”

“‘The people-things’. That’s really specific, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“They aren’t people, they aren’t monsters, they look like people, they weld things with their hands. Seemed like a good conjecture— people-things.” Sam defended. He winced and touched his eye as blood dripped from above it.

“What do they come in for?” Dean asked, sticking his hand through the space between two of the bars and thumbing some of the crusty tear-blood mixture off of Sam’s cheek.

“They come and take blood and leave food.”

“Your blood?” Dean asked, preoccupied with cleaning the cut under Sam’s eyebrow.

“Ya see anyone else in here?” Sam asked as he jerked away from Dean’s rough hand unsuccessfully. Dean sighed with a shake of his head. Sam’s hands clinging around the jail bars were wrecked. His fingers were purple and red and yellow with bruising, and needle pinpoint marks shone on the back of his hands.

“How much blood? God, Sam, they musta stuck you twenty times.”

“I know. I don’t know how much, but I passed out the second time and almost did the first.” He looked at his own hand with little interest.

“Where do they come from? From up there?” Dean jerked his head to the door up the stairs he arrived from.

“No. No, there’s another door over there.” Sam looked into the far corner of the space. there was not enough light to see much, and what light there was was divided and ribbed by shadows from the cage’s bars.

“How’d you get in this thing?”

“I was passed out.” Sam gestured to his bloodstained face. “But when they come they hold the bars in their hands and they glow, like hot metal, and they bend them so they can reach in. Then they meld it back into place and add more metal. Then they weld that with their hands. I guess it replaces the strength. They don’t talk to me.”

Dean handed Sam a long knife through the space in the bars. “I’m gonna check it out.” He gestured toward the corner with the alleged door.

Sam nodded. He slid the knife up his shirt sleeve, carefully hidden in case of emergency. A noise whirred on the other side of the wall Dean was headed towards suddenly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he motioned to Dean to leave the way he came. Dean gave him a ‘no way!’ look even through the darkness. Sam glared and set his jaw. Dean retreated into the darkest corner of the room and crouched. Sam had to give it to him, he was pretty invisible.

He stood up shakily and the cage swung wildly. He almost lost his balance, but grabbed onto the pole-like bars to steady. He looked incredibly nauseous as he gained his sealegs.

Shadows danced around the room and a new light came from the doorway. Two figures in white Haz-mat suits entered the room with a small cart, on which were several large empty vials and test tubes. The humanesque figures approached the bird cage without a word or emotion.

One of the figures raised a hand to a bar and it started to glow. Sam stayed put with a glare of death towards the perpetrators. Dean steadied his gun to aim at the white-clad thing, but a small gesture from Sam made him think better of taking the shot.

The bar heated and bent, then a section of it melted away. The same procedure was followed for two other bars. It wasn’t quite enough space for an escape yet— but it was something.

Dean emerged from the shadow and shot one of the suited monsters dead.

The other whirled on him and extended its hand. Unexpectedly, Dean flew forward in an unnatural force. The monster caught him by the wrist and its glowing hand burned through his shirt to his skin. He grit his teeth as his wrist seared.

“Dean!” Sam said, a yell halfway between an admonishment an dan exclamation.

Dean hadn’t thought to ask Sam how they got him to willingly let them take his blood. Now he knew.

The monster hit his chest and he flew back against the wall. His head hit and his eyelids suddenly heavied. He slid down to the ground and crumpled there.

Sam leapt toward the hole and grabbed the monster from behind. He pulled it with a headlock and slammed its head down on the sharp point of one of the semi-melted bars. The bar impaled the creature’s neck and it fell limp.

Sam was breathing hard as he backed up. The cage swung wildly and he tripped, whacking his head on the floor.

When he came to, the hole in the cage was still there, but he was chained to one of the perfectly healthy bars. Metal restraints clasped around his upper arms, in between his shoulders and his elbows. His neck popped when he awoke and stirred, looking up from his position of his head laying limp on his own shoulder. His vision was blurry for an unreasonably long amount of time.

“Coulda told me about the telekinesis, stupid.” Sam heard Dean say from across the room.

He could see most of Dean through the bars, but his face was obscured by one of the cage’s thick ribs. He was tied up leaning against the wall, sitting on his heels, forced into a prayer kneel by the restraints.

“Yeah,” Sam said guiltily. He closed his already mostly swollen shut left eye and his vision cleared exponentially. One eyed was better than fuzzy, he supposed.

The door in the corner opened slowly with a creak and a tall figure stepped out. “You’ve taken my helpful metal-melders from me.” A voice said. “It seems I will have to continue the old fashioned way. Free range inside a cage seemed more humane... more conscientious, but restrained works too. In fact it works even better for me.” The figure stepped into the light with a cruel smile. They were mostly human. Well dressed human, even. The only thing a little off was the paleness of their face and the reddish color of their irises. Sam could barely see him, twisting his head as far as he could to watch.

“Humane?” Dean spit.

“You don’t agree eight feet of wandering ground is better than none?” The melodious male voice asked. Dean didn’t answer.

“I suppose you never got the good treatment though, boy.” The man-monster-thing stepped forward. He looked like the old drawings of Dracula in classic books. “Soon enough you won’t miss it either.” The creature adressed Sam. Sam didn’t want to know what that meant.

“Let him go,” Dean snarled.

“Let him go?” The creature almost laughed. “You aren’t bargaining for your own life first?” The creature suddenly sniffed in a large inhale of air, like he was trying to smell what wine was being served with dinner. Dean pulled back from him, weirded out a bit. “Oh, I see.” The creature chuckled in ecstacy. “You carry the same blood. You’re family, yes?”

Dean just glared at the man.

“Well that just makes everything so much smoother. Much faster.” The creature seemed delighted. It pulled a handkerchief out of its waistcoat pocket, approaching Dean and kneeling before him. Dean snatched with his teeth at the monster’s hands, but to no avail. The monster tied the gag tight around his head, its cloth bit settling between his jaws.

“Sit tight,” the monster said. “I’ll be back shortly.” He stalked from the room, dress shoes clacking upon the stone floor.

“Dean?” Sam asked, his brother’s face still obscured by the bar. “Dean what happened?”

Dean mumbled through the gag in response. He was seething with rage and helplessness. His arms were chained to his sides and his weapons were unreachable. The lock on the chains was nowhere to be found by wiggling around. The tight cloth around his face started to make his eyes and mouth water. He leaned his head back and hit it on the stone wall in frustration. Sam moved as much as he could with his tight restraints binding him to the ‘wall’ of the birdcage, trying to swing the cage so he could see Dean’s face. Eventually the cage spun just enough.

“Dammit,” Sam said.

The well dressed moster came back with supplies on a little tea cart. He took a bowl and a towel from the cart and stalked towards Dean.

“Hey, back off!” Sam yelled.

The evil beanstalk of a man didn’t even turn to Sam as he said, “Don’t fret. You’ll be even with him soon. More or less.” He placed the large bowl next to Dean’s right side and the towel underneath it.

Dean struggled as far from the man as he could, grunting and straining against the gag and the chains.

The man moved Dean’s right arm out from the mummy-ing chains but without any hesitation he pulled a knife from inside his blazer and slit one deep slash line tracing down the underside/inside of Dean’s arm. Dean let out an involuntary yelp, made higher by the restraint in his mouth.

The monster went on to place both hands on the shoulder of that same arm and do a quick maneuver that yielded a horrifying “pop” noise, and a scream from Dean.

“Stop!” Sam screamed. He kicked his legs from his seated position on the platform bottom of the cage, trying to turn it for a better view. The monster was blocking him from seeing what happened, but he would know the sound of a shoulder coming out of socket anywhere. Another ghastly “clack” noise sounded that Sam couldn’t place or understand. Dean let out one unintended sob, so Sam knew whatever the click was, it was bad news. “Stop it!” He yelled again as the pit of his stomach dropped.

The monster stood and turned to Sam, blood covering his hands. Sam looked around him to Dean, whose arm was slowly pouring blood into the waiting bowl.

The monstrous creature stalked around the cage to a point where Sam could no longer see him. He felt vulnerable and suddenly his back felt very exposed. He watched Dean through the bars as he tried to move and struggle against the chains, in more pain the more his shoulder moved. Almost a long minute later his eyes widened and he tried to yell a muffled warning to Sam.

Sam felt a sharp pain in his hand. A needle twice as big as the others was jammed into his vein with vigor. He grit his teeth as he tried to keep the volume of his pained yell down. Another needle jammed into his other hand and his breath hitched.

Dean’s muffled yells of things like “STOP!” and insults and threats that could barely be made out through the gag caught Sam’s incredibly divided attention. This is what it meant when he said it would be faster this way. Sam thought.

“Dean, stop it! You’ll bleed faster!”

Dean didn’t stop struggling, but he was becoming really tired, really fast.

The monster spun the cage around some so that Dean was lined up in the melded window of no bars in the cage and Sam could see him dying more clearly. The downside: Dean could see Sam more clearly, too.

There were too many tubes coming out of Sam to be anything but horrendously painful. Even through his watery, unfocused eyes Dean could see as the monstrous creature stuck needles into Sam’s neck. Draining him.

“Dean, stop it! It’ll kill you faster if you keep moving around! Listen to me.”

Dean stopped for a second. The anger blurring his vision died down as he shifted his focus to Sam’s completely calm face. Bruised and broken, sure, but calm nonetheless.

“You have to stop.” Sam said quietly. A laugh boiled up from the monster behind him but he ignored it. “Stay calm. Just stay still.” Sam got an idea suddenly. It only worked in a very specific scenario, but he didn’t have many other options at the moment. “It’s pretty fowl in here, right?” Sam tried not to emphasize the code word too much in fear of discovery, but hoping Dean would still get it.

Fowl? Why does he want me to— Dean thought through the code, but Sam said something else which made it clearer.

“We’re gonna be fine...” Sam sounded suddenly delirious and weak. His head lulled down and his limbs fell even more slack in their restraints. It was almost too convincing.

Fowl was the code word for ‘play dead’, although they had never used it for the one saying it to be the one playing dead. Dean understood his role now. He knit his eyebrows and got the monster’s attention with a mournful yelp and a few fake, but convincing, sobs.

The monster grinned. “You listened to him too well I suppose. The way I planned, you would have been dead long before you saw the child go.”

Dean glared at him with a seething rage. Even if Sam wasn’t really dead, he was definitely being drained and hurt. Dean hung his head and tried to get the tears to fall out of his eyes onto the floor dramatically. He pretended to sob, hoping this was Sam’s plan.

“He’ll be easier to drain out here with us, don’t you think?” The monster fell for their trick brilliantly. “Right here?” The creature tapped the ground in front of Dean’s eyeline.

The monster proceeded towards the cage where Sam lay entirely motionless.

“Don’t touch him!” Dean yelled through the gag, the words barely recognizable, but definitely frantic-sounding, trying to sell it.

The monster grinned sadistically. It unclasped the cuffs around Sam’s upper arms one by one. Sam slumped to the side with the first metallic click, then to the front over his criss crossed legs with the next. His swollen, bruised eye hit his knee when he fell forward and Dean winced for him. Sam was selling it so hard that Dean started to worry for if it wasn’t real.

The monster swung the cage as if he was trying to get all the marbles to roll to one side of a tray after spinning them around a few times. Sam tumbled toward the hole like a bag of bones.

The monster pulled him out as he remained tension-less and motionless. Dean watched carefully, trying to act devastated and like he wasn’t calculating a plan in his head. His thoughts swam in bloodloss. His dislocated shoulder numbed his whole right arm... or was that the lack of life in his limb? But he determined to remain conscious nonetheless. For Sammy.

The tall monster dropped Sam in front of Dean unceremoniously. His limbs folded under him and his head hit with a whack. Sam’s face landed cheek to the ground, turned toward Dean, his expression hidden from the standing monster. As Dean watched, Sam’s face scrunched up in pain. Dean’s heart seemed to un-scrunch with relief, but he didn’t show it. He didn’t change his expression as he lifted his gaze to the insanely pleased creature.

“How’s that?” The monster asked rudely.

Dean snorted a growl in response.

The monster grabbed Dean by the jaw and made him look at Sam.

Dean watched happily as he saw Sam’s hand slide a knife out of his sleeve with bloody fingers. He took his chance while the monster’s hand was still holding onto Dean’s face.

Sam sprung into action, slicing the creature’s hand clean off with his daggar. The monster wailed and stepped back several staggers. Sam rolled to his feet and grabbed Dean’s silver loaded gun from the pile in the corner. He shot the creature in the chest once and once in the stomach before leaping at the downed villain with its recently severed hand in tow. Dean couldn’t see exactly what happened, but the monster stopped struggling after a gagging noise ocurred. Sam shot it once more in the heart for good measure, then his heavy breathing took him over. He bent, doubled over and fell to one knee. After a few seconds he limped over to his brother.

He cut the gag off with the bloody daggar carefully and quickly threw it down. He was still panting.

“Scared me for a second there, man.” Dean rasped.

Sam nodded. “Good actor I guess.” He put a cold hand on Dean’s destroyed shoulder and Dean flinched.

“Nasty,” Sam commented.

“Coming from the guy who just killed something using its own severed hand.” Dean said weakly.

Sam’s gaze hardened as he re-noticed the full bowl of blood at Dean’s fingertips. It was full. And it wasn’t a small bowl. He helped his brother up from the ground, pulling with his handhold in the wrapped chains around him. He loosened them in several places and found a lock eventually. Picking it was no problem. Once the ‘weak link’ was dealt with they fell to the ground in a rattling ruckus. Dean breathed freely as he thanked Sam.

Sam took what was left of his shredded shirt off and tied it around Dean’s arm tightly as a tourniquet. At full height, Sam was only a couple inches shy of his brother, when three months ago he’d been almost half a foot shorter. It made things like helping each other limp away from these sorts of situations much easier.

“So, we have a ride?” Sam asked as they stepped over the threshold at the top of the frustrating set of stairs.

“Dude, do you even have to ask?” Dean chuckled. Now that they were in the light of the mansion’s domed window, everyone looked much worse. The curtain was pulled back on the palor and wounds that were previously hidden by the darkness.

Dean was over halfway to bleeding out. The bowl back in the basement had been almost a litre full, and two litres was just about the limit for remaining alive. The tourniquet had helped, but blood still dripped from Dean’s fingertips leaving a trail in the not-yet-open mansion. Someone would have an interesting find when they came in for the day.

The Impala seemed like the homeyest, most cozy thing after the dark dungeon storage basement.

A collective sigh of relief came out as they backed out of the driveway, Sam driving... Legally, for once.

#my writing #DO NOT STEAL #writing #fics #spn #supernatural #spn fics #supernatural fics #fiction #fiction writing #tw blood #3490 words about #its not as long as it seems like it is.... sorry lol #love writing #WRITERS ROCK

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alexandermanes · 3 years

Text

i couldn’t fucking sleep so here’s some deancas fan fiction

honestly the amount of space cas’s speech has taken in my brain (rent fre!!!) is apalling, so jere, have a snippet of what is going on inside my brain

ao3

There’s a door.

And Dean wonders absent-mindedly why the hell does the Empty, the one that engulfed Cas in nothing but darkness and wrenched him away, have a door that leads you to it?

Nevertheless, he studies it with the kind of cautiousness that is ignited by dread, the kind that you feel pricking under your skin, after all, he has no clue what to expect from the other side. It’s temporary, move, he thinks. His hand falls over the knob, the door, lush and dark, a velvety aspect to it, is nothing but menacing. He twists the knob and pushes it slowly, and there right in front of his eyes is nothing but darkness. It’s not that the place is dim or poorly lit, it’s just... dark. The floor is black and glossy, but no shadows or reflections are cast over it, it’s eerie. Despite his initial fears, he can’t help the urgency bubbling up inside, the tremble in his hands and his shortness of breath, he is here for one reason and one reason only: Cas. The thought sparks something akin to desperation, he succumbs to it.

“Cas?”, he shouts and despite of its width, there’s no echo following suit

“Cas?!”, he shouts again, fight instead or flight kicking in

I’m running out of time, Dean reminds himself

He scours the place, but how can you scour a place that’s emptiness itself? He walks and walks and walks and sees nothing. Hears nothing. Nothing at all and it’s terrifying. He feels the last thread of his sanity slipping away. Desperation, ugly, needy, clawing its way up his throat and for a split second he isn’t breathing.

I’m running out of time

Surrounding him, darkness. And the thing about the dark that surrounds him that is so different from the white that encircled him during his short-lived experience in a mental institution is that instead of feeling psychotic, feeling the walls moving, closing in, it feels like the Empty is spreading. It expands, larger and larger like a rapidly growing cancer, deadly. His eyes dart all across his vicinity, dizziness settling in quickly, he’s hyperventilating he’s sure of it. So he closes his eyes. After striding around, feeling like he was merely pacing back and forth, he allows the only darkness surrounding him to come from within, so he shuts his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

The spell ain’t gonna hold me here forever

With his vision being obstructed, he thinks of Castiel. Images flood him, threatening to drown him. He sees him; self-sacrificial, selfless, dumb fucking martyr Castiel. Castiel that in a heartbeat put himself in the frontline of fire and kept Dean behind him once more. Castiel who he is utterly unworthy of. Castiel who saved him again. Castiel who he is in love with, and who, against all odds, loves him out of seven billion humans, uncountable creatures and a few angels. Cas whose ability to love is immense, Cas who the world doesn’t deserve and neither does he. A single tear streams down his face before he can even acknowledge it at all. He closes his eyes impossibly tight and he prays.

He’s done it before, be it out of desperation or sheer longing, but somehow it feels different, since this isn’t a prayer at all, it’s a plea. A plea for Cas to wake up, snap out of it. A plea for him to hear him, to awoke, to come to him. He never yearned to hear his name in Cas’s voice as he does right now. The plea is embedded in please, Cas and I love you. He sobs, all snot and incessant tears and when he finally feels ready he opens his eyes and, as land to a drifter at sea, he sees him, even though he seems to be miles away.

So Dean runs. He sees the beige form from afar and the closer he gets it shapes itself more and more like his estranged angel. Once there are mere inches between his boots and the unmoving body, Dean, like a devoted christian would before such angelic creature, drops to his knees and falls to the ground with a thump. And for a minute there finds himself too stunned to move, until he breaks out of his stupor and places Castiel’s head over his thighs, wavering hands carding through his hair with immense relief and gut-wrenching despair. With tears still falling and dripping onto his angel’s cheeks he finally speaks:

“I’m so sorry”, voice wobbly and desperate, “I’m so, so sorry, Cas”, he sniffles, drying his face in the crook of his elbow aggressively, “I didn’t even see it, I should’ve seen it - your deal - I should’ve saved you, I should’ve have done something, anything. Fuck, I’m so sorry. About everything else too. Please come back to me. I know I don’t deserve you”, he laughs, wet and bitter, “I know I fuck up everything I touch. But you- You make me better. All the shit, the bad stuff, you make it better. I need you, Cas. Please. I lo-“, God he can’t even bring himself to say it, he’s such a fucking pussy. Looking at Castiel’s lifeless face, closed eyes though it’s not peace that it entails, it’s pain, the angel is frowning and on everything Dean is, all he has, which isn’t much, he wishes he could turn back time. He wishes it was him, him that succumbed to the Nothingness. Him frowning and lifeless, not Cas.

Losing him again is something Dean could’ve never foretell and yet here he is. Cas will always be ripped away from him, regardless of God or any entity whatsoever. Regardless of what Dean needs; even seeing Cas performing the utmost selfless act a person could ever subject themselves to and now staring at his still body, Dean is pondering what he needs because he is selfish. And what he ever needed since Cas said he saved him from an endless torture in Hell, no what he needs is for Cas to stay. He needs Cas to stay by his side and never, ever leave because the thing is whether alive or dead, Cas isn’t the oxygen he breathes, in a rational level he acknowledges he doesn’t need Cas to survive. But he wants to, he wants to like the need of breathing. He loves Castiel and it pours all over him at this very moment because like his angel, he allows himself to. Because happiness isn’t in having, is in saying it. So he says it like those words could ever covey what he feels, as they could extend to the grandiosity that is his love for Castiel, as though they stretch through the Empty, further into Heaven and Hell, and engulf the whole Universe; he says it like he and Castiel are the atoms that kick-start the Universe.

He says: “I love you”

And Castiel opens his eyes

#supernatural #spn #spn spoilers #deancas #fan fiction #dean winchester #castiel

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lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean · 3 years

Text

La Pomme ~ Chapter 15

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

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George was jolted out of her unconsciousness by dropping face first down on the pine needle covered ground. Letting out a startled, painful groan she lay still for a moment, trying to pull herself out of her stupor and gather her bearings. The atmosphere was chilly and caused goosebumps on her skin, so she knew she was outside still. From listening, she could tell that there were multiple people in the same area as her; presumably more of her captures. While she could hear the faint sounds of people talking, she couldn't discern what they were saying.

She thought she heard a strained, quiet voice nearby speak to her, "George? Is that you?"

Quickly scanning for injuries, she began at her toes and mentally swept her body for pain. From being tossed on the ground like a ragdoll, her left arm and hip were painfully sore and bruised, her left cheek was sliced open under her eye, and her bottom lip was split from hitting her teeth on impact. She began to slowly pick herself up off the ground, spitting blood out as it pooled unpleasantly in her mouth. Without opening her eyes, she leaned herself up against the tree she'd landed near. Her head was throbbing and her body was sore. She opened her eyes slowly and tried to find something to focus on to prevent passing out.

She heard the faint voice again, "George, are you OK? Can you hear me?"

"I'm getting there," She replied slowly. She'd chosen a picnic table about 15 yards away, across a circular clearing in the woods, to focus on and it was starting to work. When she finally only saw one, stationary table, she began allowing herself to consider her peripheral.

She saw that she was against a tree at the edge of a small circular clearing attached to a trail that led off into the woods in either direction. There were a few picnic tables in the area, an unused fire pit, and nothing else but trees around. At one of the picnic tables she saw a small group of decidedly boring looking people, all dressed head to toe in white, gathered around, talking in hushed tones. She noticed the woman from earlier--Duma--walking quickly away from her, toward the grouping. George still hadn't remembered if she was angel, demon, or other but from watching the show she knew it truly didn't matter; she was most likely in serious danger either way.

It was a few minutes before she remembered the voice coming from next to her and turned her head to find a familiar, smooth, 90s-male-model face staring back at her. Jack was about five feet away, also leaning up against a tree trunk. When she made eye contact, he smiled weakly, a peculiar look on his face.

"Jack!" She grinned, elated that she'd found him, as the pounding in her head eased.

"George. How did you get here?" He asked, curiously. He tried to sit up more, excited to see her, and that's when she noticed he was badly injured. From what she could see, he had a large gash on the right side of his head, his ear was covered in blood from it. His ankle looked swollen and purple, possibly broken, and the whole bottom half of his shirt was soaked from blood pouring out of a stab wound in his gut.

"Jesus Christ, Jack! What happened?!" She forced herself onto her hands and knees with a soft groan of pain and crawled the short distance to him.

"Just the usual angel hospitality," he replied weakly.

"Angels; figures. OK, Jack, you've lost a lot of blood but I need you to stay awake and focus on helping me stop the bleeding. Sam and Dean are on their way--"

"Sam and Dean are with you?" At the mention of their name, he grabbed her arm and held on tight, giving her a desperate look.

"Of course," she assured, suddenly having to swallow back tears as a rush of emotions hit her. Gently removing his hand from her arm and looking him in the eyes, she promised, "They're coming to get you, okay? We just have to try and stop the bleeding 'till they get here, that's all." She quickly yanked her Friends hoodie off, ignoring the chill that consumed her as soon as she did, and pressed it gently but firmly against his stomach wound. He let out a strangled yell and she shushed him softly.

"It's okay, you'll be okay. Dean and Sam are coming." Quickly, I hope, she added in her head.

He did not look good and she wasn't sure what to do other than apply pressure. She looked around the area futilely, knowing there was really nothing out in the middle of the redwoods she could use to help him in this situation. She froze when she noticed the group of angels staring at her intently.

"Oh, great," she muttered when one of them began walking toward her and Jack. "Don't move!" She held him down when he started trying to get up as the man approached.

"Run!" He begged with hushed urgency.

"I'm not leaving you, you nut." She grabbed his limp, cold hand and placed it on the sweater-turned-bandage pressed against his wound. "Focus, Jack. Try to put pressure on this, okay? Hey, focus!" She could tell he was in trouble. Once she got him to hold the sweater, she stood up slowly, facing the man who'd walked over. She prayed she didn't seem as nervous as she definitely was.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" She spat out uncontrollably at the smug look on the angel's face.

"Sorry about that. He struggled a bit and… well, as you humans like to say, accidents happen." The arrogant, coiffed angel stopped six feet from her and smiled. It was a fake, customer service smile that nowhere near reached his eyes, which were wide and frighteningly blank of emotion. He was about 5'11, had heavily gelled, short, black hair and a thin, perfectly shaped mustache, with tanned skin and piercing blue eyes. His stark white business suit was crisp and fashionable. "Would you like me to heal him for you?" He offered with a hint of sarcasm.

"Do not touch him." She took a shaky step toward him and tried to puff herself up a little, taking up space and making sure she was standing as much between him and Jack as she could.

"It seems my colleague was right, you certainly are an interesting… what exactly are you?" He inquired, looking her up and down.

"If you say so. But he may not have much time." He was far too happy about that and she sneered at him. She just needed to stall long enough for Sam and Dean to find them. The place had a familiar feel and with all the picnic tables and the clearly defined path, she had to assume they were still at the Trees of Enigma attraction; it couldn't be long before the brother's were able to track Jack down as they'd started to do before she got kidnapped.

"Oh you angels are real subtle with the judgement. Sorry, I'm not dressed as fancily as you, pretty boy," She crossed her arms.

"It hasn't nothing to do with the way you look, you ignorant ape," his fake initial kindness was fading fast. "I can't sense you. Why not?"

"Uh, maybe because sensing people is really fucking creepy? If any of these other angels were really your friend, they'd tell you that."

"Now you listen to me," the angel seemed a bit irritated now, and began walking briskly toward her. She stumbled several steps back before his large hand wrapped tightly around her throat. As he lifted her barely off the ground. "I'm not here for your entertainment, child. Tell me what you are and why you're here with the Winchesters before I kill you."

Ok, make that a lot irritated. George gasped for air and clawed at his arm, trying to choke out an answer. When he couldn't understand her, he set her down and momentarily loosened his grip.

"Yes?" He asked patiently.

"My… my name-" She coughed and gulped in air. He allowed her to wrench out of his grip and she bent at the waist. Waiting until she could get a slow and steady flow of air, before looking up at him slowly, she said, "My name… is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, now prepare to die."

The angel huffed like an angry bull before back handing her so hard she fell to the ground, landing across Jack's outstretched legs. When he had no reaction to her body crashing on top of him, her neck snapped up and she saw he'd passed out.

"Jack!" She whispered nervously, trying to pull herself up. "Ah!" The angel grabbed a fistful of her long blonde hair and yanked up hard, preventing her from moving.

"Just so you know!" Everyone turned and looked at the voice that had just shouted at them from the west, 50 yards away. George visibly relaxed when she saw it was coming from Dean Winchester. "Whoever the fuck you are?"

Sam, who was close by near a tree trunk, slowly pointed a bloody finger directly at the angel who'd hit George and promised "You're gonna pay for that." He then slammed his hand down on the angel banishing sigil that was drawn in his blood on the trunk next to him. With a bright blinding blast of energy, the small cluster of angels was gone. George dropped back down, using her hands to catch herself. She, Jack, Sam, and Dean were the only ones left in the clearing.

"You GUYS!" George shouted. "He's hurt bad." Ignoring the white hot throbbing on the right side of her face, she'd crawled up to Jack's torso and pressed the fallen away sweatshirt back against his wound. It began drizzling as Sam and Dean sprinted toward them and came to a skid on their knees on either side of Jack. They both frantically began checking him over.

Sam happened to glance at George's wounds as he was maneuvering around Jack and instinctively reached out towards her in concern. She locked eyes with him and stopped him in his tracks, "Don't even think about it; he could die." She was absolutely right and he yanked his phone out of his pocket, dialing Castiel.

"He's lost a lot of blood, damnit!" Dean was seeing red; those angels were going to die if Jack did.

"He needs medical attention now. The nearest hospital is 20 minutes away and it's going to take us about that long to get to the car if we're lucky." Sam sounded scared but tried to keep it together. "And Castiel's not answering his phone!"

"He's so cold," George whimpered uncontrollably, her tears beginning to fall.

"It's just freezing out here!" Dean shouted in anger, and she could see his breath in the air for emphasis. George winced when she could hear the undeniable fear in his voice as well. If Dean was worried enough not to hide it, things were dire.

"What do we do?!" Sam nearly screamed, redialing Cas pointlessly once again.

George sat back on her heels and tried to think, but she could barely even breathe. Her stomach was twisting into nauseating knots and she felt her heart pounding. A panic attack was coming on, the intensity of which genuinely made her feel like her heart was going to explode. Her vision began to tunnel and she felt ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes so that she didn't fall over from dizziness and forced herself to take the deepest breath she possibly could. She held the breath for just a moment too long before a sharp pain in her chest caused her to release with a hiss.

Suddenly she knew where they should go.

"If you guys can get him to the car, I might know somewhere nearby we can try for help." The second George had said the words, she'd regretted it. They had almost no other choice, though, so she just prayed to whomever that they'd get lucky, just this once. Dean and Sam didn't need to be told twice. Bracing themselves in the now muddy ground, they picked Jack up gently, one brother at either end of him.

They had prepared themselves to begin the long and arduous trek back toward the car, yet when they rounded their first corner they found themselves standing in front of the emergency exit, which just so happened to lead them to the end of the parking lot closest to where they'd parked. It nearly stopped them all in their tracks but they knew Jack had very little time to survive, so they launched themselves out of the gate and across the asphalt about 50 feet to their parked car. Luckily the park closed an hour ago, so there was no one around to see the two men carrying a half dead person and a beat up George following fast behind.

When they reached the car, Sam got in the backseat with Jack carefully. George tore into the passenger's side knees first, in order to face them and help hold pressure on his stomach wound. Dean jumped in the driver's seat and roared the engine on.

"Nice job with the tire," Dean practically shouted in appreciation at her as he peeled out of the parking lot, headed in the direction she ordered.

"Be careful, Dean, it's still a donut!" Sam warned angrily.

They'd just pulled out onto the highway and Dean was gunning it, "How far?"

"Not far at all, slow down! Take the exit up ahead, to the left." She gestured in the general direction.

"Rosewood?"

"Yeah. Then take the second right. Third house, at the end of the court." In two minutes Dean had screeched the Impala to a halt in front of a large home on half an acre in Klamath. George almost cried with relief when she saw the small, stout woman with reddish blonde hair standing out front in her garden watering the plants.

"Aunt Lorna!" She leapt from the car and ran over to her, throwing her arms around the stunned woman before she could stop herself. "My God, it's a miracle!"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" The woman ripped herself away from George and took a few steps back, clutching the hose she'd had in her hand like a weapon. George kicked herself for scaring her and stepped back with her hands up.

"I'm sorry. You don't know me, obviously, but I know you. You're Lorna Iris, right? You're a nurse in Gibbousville? My friends and I need your help, one of them is hurt pretty bad."

"Worse than you?" The woman asked, looking over her bruised and bloodied face suspiciously.

"Much worse. He needs help and I don't think he'll make it to a hospital." By this time, Dean had pulled their medical supplies out of the car and was now helping Sam pull Jack out gently.

"Holy God," Lorna said, seeing the state he was in and taking a step toward him before pausing. She looked again at George. "Who are you?"

"Someone who needs your help. Please?" George begged.

Stacey, the cute library clerk, was standing in front of her, eyes cast downward. When she held her slender hands up in inquiry, George bit her lip, considering it for a moment before eventually nodding slowly. The beautiful bookworm stepped closer and gently placed her cool, silky smooth hands up under George's breasts. After attempting to cup them and failing because of their size, Stacey decided instead to rub her hands in slow circles over the soft, pale globes.

Lorna stared at her for a moment before looking back at Jack's unconscious body and then to Sam and Dean who were both looking at her with pleading eyes. She let out an exasperated breath and then nodded, motioning for them to come inside. They went with her into the house while George grabbed their medical bag and followed close behind.

______

George was inside the small library office, sitting up on the desk, back straight, chest out. Her thumbs were hooked into the fabric of her white cotton bra and black henley shirt, raising them up to her throat.

George groaned a bit; her nipples hardened under Stacey's touch. She hadn't anticipated things going this far when she agreed to flashing, but Stacey was beautiful and charming, putting her at ease quickly. There was something incredibly erotic about the whole thing, so George closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the thrill.

Her eyes flew open again in surprise when she felt a sudden, dramatic drop in temperature as Stacey's hands disappeared. George could see her breath, like a lame dragon, as she gasped in air and goosebumps covered her body. Looking around frantically, she realized she was now kneeling on the ground in some brush at the bottom of a tall, bloody redwood tree. When she lowered her shirt, she noticed on the ground in front of her was Jack. He was deathly pale, his lips were blue, and there was a large pool of blood underneath him.

"Jack?!" She gasped, reaching down to him. His skin was freezing to the touch, causing her to shiver. There was so much blood, but she touched his neck to feel for a pulse anyway. Her eyes filled with tears when she couldn't find one and she sniffled, "Jack!"

George jumped and gasped loudly as Jack's hands suddenly darted up and wrapped tightly around her throat. His eyes flew open and emitted a bright white light. A loud shushing noise filled her ears and the sound of someone shouting behind plate glass was booming in the distance. George opened her mouth to scream but stopped when Jack's face began distorting, melting and swirling grotesquely.

"WherrrRE ARe youuu?" Came a garbled call from the general location of Jack's mouth. Suddenly the fingers on her throat tightened on her windpipe when she heard a beckoning, "Georgia! GEORGIA!"

"Georgia. Georgia!" Her eyes snapped open to see Sam gently shaking her awake.

Thankful to be out of her terrifying dream, George realized she must have accidentally passed out on the couch while the boys were helping Lorna work on Jack. They'd been lucky--once again--that Lorna happened to have a small store of helpful medical supplies in house to put Jack back together and stabilize him. She didn't have any blood bags on hand but she'd been able to provide fluids and meds to help his body relax and heal.

"Your turn," He ordered, then moved over so that Lorna could sit down in front of her.

"That's not necessary. I'm fine," George lied, shaking the fog of her nightmare away quickly. She actually hurt like hell all over, but it was mostly bumps and bruises; nothing some painkillers and time wouldn't heal eventually. The dream was bothering her more than her aches at the moment.

"You need stitches on your cheek and potentially some in your lip," Lorna wasn't one for bullshit and had a strong, authoritative presence. People listened to her because she always spoke like she knew exactly what she was talking about (and 99% of the time, she truly did). Lorna held out a glass and two pills, ordering, "Take two of these, turn your head to the left, and don't argue."

"Good luck with that." Sam teased, quietly. George shot him a dirty look and took the medicine and water glass from her alt-reality aunt's outstretched hand, downing them. She then turned her head to look out her aunt's large bay window into the murky darkness of the night.

"How's Jack?" She asked, straining her eyeballs to look between them as Lorna began examining and cleaning the cut on her cheek.

"He's stable but critical. I honestly didn't know if I could do much without some blood, which is what he really needs, but I got him leveled out at least. It'll probably be rough going for a few hours; the longer he makes it without coding, the better his chances of pulling through." She spoke with a kind, but matter of fact tone that one develops the longer they're a nurse.

"Thank God," George closed her eyes and allowed a few tears of relief to roll down her cheeks. Her alt-aunt kindly, yet nonchalantly wiped them away with a cotton ball and then gently turned her head back to facing forward. George could feel her cleaning the cut on her lip now and she took a deep breath to gather herself.

When she opened her eyes again, she was looking right into Sam's beautiful hazel green ones, which had been watching her with concern. Her cheeks burned red and more tears welled up. She felt she didn't deserve his concern. She'd risked Jack's life by telling that asshole angel not to heal him and having them come here: her aunt Lorna's home. In an alternate reality. There were a thousand different reasons why Lorna shouldn't have still been in the exact same house in this Supernatural reality. They'd gotten so, so lucky and it made George feel incredibly guilty.

Lorna finished cleaning and checking George's bloody lip, and explained, "good news is your lip won't need stitches. Bad news is it's gonna be irritated for a few days while it heals. Be careful when you eat that you don't bite the cut accidently because that would really hurt. Still need to stitch up that cheek." As she set to work giving George three small stitches, she also warned her and Sam that she really couldn't identify internal injuries this way and that they should go to a hospital ASAP to be safe. It was the exact same spiel she'd given Sam and Dean regarding Jack when she finished tending to him, so she knew it was falling on deaf ears but she had to try. She got up and left the room, leaving Sam and George alone for now.

"Sam, I'm so sorry." George put her head in her hands and a few more fat tears escaped.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" He was incredibly confused at her reaction. She'd handled herself insanely well considering the situation and they might not have been able to save Jack without her.

"Jack was dying and I brought you to my aunt's house. My aunt, who is a person in real life and does not exist on Supernatural the television show!" She'd dropped her hands and looked up at him with an ashamed look on her face. Her words stung him, as though she didn't consider him a real person, but he began to understand why she was feeling so guilty.

"Except she does exist here, whether 'here' is a television show or somewhere else; you saw the article about the fire. Your grandparents died after she was born. So, she exists, just not as your aunt." From Sam's perspective, she'd saved Jack's life and without her, who knows what would have happened to him; death or worse if the angels had gotten a hold of him permanently.

George got up and started pacing. "But still as a nurse? With the same married last name? Living in the same house she's had since I was 8?" George shook her head, getting angrier with herself. "What is going on? No fucking way should this have worked and you know it, Sam. What was I thinking? He could have DIED!"

"You weren't thinking," Sam grabbed her hands, squeezing them gently and stopping her anxious motion. "It was a terrifying situation--for us all--and you acted on your instincts. And they turned out to be right." He tugged on her arms just enough to force her to look up at him and he said sincerely, "just like they have been since you got here."

"Damn right." Dean had entered the room, wiping the blood from his hands with a rag. When she turned toward him, he looked her right in the eye. "I just got off the phone with Cas. The whole thing in Montana had been a trap for me and Sam. The demons found the team before Cas got there. Suzie and Garth are in the hospital, but expected to recover. Carol's dead," Dean paused in a moment of respect for a fellow fallen hunter and then stuffed the dirty rag in his pocket and walked closer to her. "You were right about it being a trap. You were right about where to find Jack. And you were right about being able to change a tire." The tears she'd been shakily holding back fell all at once as she let out an emotional laugh and closed her eyes.

They popped open again in surprise as she felt thick, strong arms wrap tightly around her. She, herself, wasn't used to a lot of hugging and she never expected Dean would be very comfortable with it, but the whole thing felt weirdly natural to her. Hugging him back timidly, she drew a familial sense of comfort from him.

"Thank you," He breathed, allowing himself a rare moment of genuine gratitude. He pulled back out of the hug and gave her a playful slug on the shoulder. "So, stop beating yourself up; you saved him, George. And you got your ass kicked doing it. I promise you now, whoever that angel fuck is, he will pay for that." Sam nodded in agreement and George squirmed uncomfortably, not used to people looking out for her like this.

Before she could argue, Lorna came back into the room with a laundry basket full of bloody sheets and rags. "Listen folks, the main house is too small for you all to sleep here. So the three of you might as well set up shop in my converted garage apartment for the time being."

Sam moved over to her and took the basket from her hands, silently offering his assistance. "Thank you. What a gentleman." She gave him a look of careful consideration. She then turned back to address them all, "I usually AirBNB it but it's empty at the moment. There's only one bedroom upstairs but it has two beds and there's a pull out couch downstairs, so it should do nicely. Enough beds not to share but if you do, I just ask that you change and wash the sheets afterwards." The three of them shared a confused, yet amused look at her nonchalant instruction. "If one of you boys wants to move the recliners here into your friend's room, you can have something comfy to sit in while you hover." She pointed to the leather rocking chairs she had in her living room as an offering and then looked at Sam again, "laundry's this way, Hon. Let's go."

Sam followed her from the room with a nod and George and Dean grabbed one of the recliners together, moving it to Jack's room. When George finally turned to look at Jack for the first time, she winced and placed a hand over her mouth. He looked like a fake cadaver you'd see on some true crime show and it startled her. She held her breath until she was sure she could see his chest moving. She gently touched his hand and was thankful to feel warmth there, calming her paranoid mind. Her heart thumped in her chest and she started crying silently again. She was just so relieved he was alive.

"Why don't you go get some sleep and I'll take first watch?" Dean placed a gentle, supportive hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"No," She said determinedly. She just needed to be around Jack right now to feel assured that everything was OK. And sleep was not anything she was interested in after her earlier dream. "I just had a catnap, I'm good. I'm gonna stay and watch over him for a while." She gave Dean a look that told him it was pointless to argue, so he went off in search of Sam and Lorna to be shown their temporary digs.

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester x original character #sam winchester x original female character #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic series #spn fanfiction

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alleiradayne · 4 years

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LONG JACKET A DESTIEL-ISH SERIES

Over the last few years, I’ve seen some of the craziest shit hunting with the Winchesters and their angel, Castiel. But this story right here? This isn’t about monsters. This isn’t about the battle between good and evil, heaven and hell. I understand all that.

It’s people I don’t get. People are crazy. And we do crazy things when we’re in love.

PART IV - UNDERSHIRTS

Summary: A lot of investigation, a little bit of a lead, and some personal time between Sam and Y/N. Warnings/Tags: Seriously, more awkward flirting, mentions of missing persons, investigations Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader Word Count: 1,656

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

In a rare display of emotion, Sam tossed the dossier onto the dash of the Impala. “Why in the hell did five random dudes just… disappear?”

The Impala rolled around a corner as Dean turned down a residential street outside of Salem proper. “Maybe they were rushes? Initiation gone wrong…”

“They’re twenty-seven. If you’re going back to college at that age, the likelihood of joining a fraternity is very slim,” Sam replied. “I doubt a group would even rush them.” His chin dropped into his right hand, elbow propped on the sill of the passenger door. “None of this makes sense. I don’t even think it’s a case.”

There’s a reason I don’t play poker. Dean saw my reaction clear as day in the rearview mirror. “What’s up, Y/N?”

“I’m not sure anything up our alley is going on here,” I managed. “So I dunno. Vampires? Draining young, healthy guys and discarding the bodies?”

Beside me, Castiel shrugged. “It’s unlikely. There’s no other vampire behavior. These people went missing in the middle of the day.”

Sam whipped around to face him. “What?”

“The last time they were seen was the middle of the day,” Castiel stated. “You read the reports, right? That’s the only common thread I found.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Dean’s exaggerated gasp rent the air as he gawked at Sam, then laughed when he saw Sam’s flat stare. “I can’t believe it, the great Sam Winchester, investigator extraordinaire, missed something.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you noticed either,” Sam retorted.

As hard as I tried to hold back, unbidden laughter shook my shoulders. Between Sam’s irritation—I never wanted to annoy him, but as of late, it seemed relatively easy to get under his skin—Castiel’s impatience, and Dean’s one-track mind, my ribs burned with the effort to keep quiet.

“Hey,” Dean admonished as he slowed the Impala in front of a pale blue house. “I don’t hear you offering up anything besides lame-ass vampires, Ms. Y/N.”

“That’s because,” I started as I opened the door, “I bet you won’t like my best theory much.”

A metallic crunch echoed through the neighborhood as Dean exited the Impala and rounded the front-end. “Oh, I’ll take it,” he continued. “Twenty bucks says you can’t piss me off.”

Halfway up the walk to the house, I rounded on him and said, “I don’t think there’s a case here, and I think Detective Williams’ called you to get laid.”

If anything, Dean was, at most, mildly offended. He knew we weren’t dumb. Maybe he had hoped we wouldn’t figure it out. When the subtle pink blossomed on his cheeks again, he attempted to side-step me for the house, but Sam grasped him by the shoulder and pointed at me.

“Pay the lady.”

That indeed seemed to piss him off. Dean shoved a hand in his pocket, tore out his wallet, and shuffled through it. Then he smacked an old twenty-dollar bill into my hand and grumbled to himself as he stalked past.

“I think there’s actually a case here,” Castiel said over my shoulder.

“How so?”

He gestured to the house directly ahead. “I think we’re about to find out.”

Too many hours in and out of the car had stiffened my legs and knotted my neck. Not to mention all the sinking sofas, worn-out chairs, and leaned on countertops at five different interviewed homes. But it had all been worth it.

“Groceries.”

Dean kept repeating himself the entire way back to the motel.

“Groceries.”

“Dean, we get it, the last thing they told anyone they were going to do was grocery shopping,” Sam barked. “Why is that so weird?”

When the Impala lumbered over the driveway and into the motel’s parking lot, I decided it was time to play the game. “They all went to the same store. Could have been one of the employees.”

“That’s… a possibility, sure,” Sam started as he exited the car. When I followed, he continued. “But it’s just as likely that they were randomly targeted on the way to the store. Or out of the store.”

“Which store?” Castiel asked at the door.

Dean unlocked it and strode through. “L&M Foods.”

I had made it across the motel room and withdrawn my pajamas from my bag when Sam said, “We should take a look around tonight. When there aren’t so many people around.”

My chin slumped to my chest. “I guess I’ll sleep later.”

Castiel rushed to my side and touched my forehead with no warning. Warmth spread through my entire body, but when he withdrew his hand, I still ached. “You need to rest. We can check in the morning.”

Sam regarded Dean, who shrugged, then turned back to me with a worrying twist to his lips. He closed the space between us, then asked, “You gonna be okay, Y/N?”

The aching muscles in my neck screamed out for relief in the nearness of Sam. But I kept that to myself, despite my staring at his massive hands. “I need to get some sleep.”

Either he could read minds or body language. I’d bet on both. Sam’s soothing touch rubbed my shoulder. Perfectly innocuous, and every bit the caring friend he seemed determined to remain.

Except Dean knew otherwise. At least, I assumed he knew how I felt. When I spotted his crooked smile, I dug as deep as humanly possible for every ounce of resolve to not blush.

“Cas and I can—,” Dean started, but he froze when he turned to Castiel. Again.

Castiel had removed his suit jacket, tie, and button-up before anyone had noticed. “I… thought we weren’t going anywhere until tomorrow morning.”

To that day, I had never seen Dean’s face turn so red so quickly. And then it finally dawned on me. Where I had saved face—albeit a fraction—when caught pining for someone, Dean openly blushed, stared without reservation at the object of his affection.

Look, I am the first to admit that I know next to nothing about flirting. Hell, half the time, all I did was irritate the piss out of Sam. But Dean and Castiel knew fuckall. And at that exact moment, as Dean stared at Castiel in suit pants and an undershirt, everything made sense.

“You know, now that I think about it,” I started far louder than I had intended. Dean startled as he averted his gaze, and Sam snatched his hand from my shoulder. “We should get a look tonight.” Though I tried to fight it, a wide yawn interrupted my statement, and Sam’s touch returned.

“No, Y/N, you need rest,” he insisted. “You two can go tonight yet, right?”

Castiel shrugged back into his shirt. “I don’t need to sleep, but are you—”

“I’m fine!” Dean barked as he grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the motel room.

The dejected sigh from Castiel as he tossed on his suit jacket—he had forgone the tie, left in a pile on the table—followed him to the door.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Give him some time,” I said. “He’ll figure it out.”

He smiled at that. “Thank you.” Before heading through the door, he regarded Sam with an equally fond smile, then left.

When the door closed, I turned to Sam, but he spoke first. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

The perfect opportunity had presented itself, and I wasn’t about to waste it.

“You know, riding in the backseat of that car all the time really does a number on my back.”

“Oh,” he quipped as he sat on the bed. “Here, sit in front of me. The only spot in the Impala that is remotely comfortable is the driver’s seat.”

Well, shit. Can’t say I didn’t try. I did as he said and sat on the edge of the bed. Deft hands and precise thumbs started in on the knots of my shoulders with expert accuracy. “I guess you would know.”

“My neck is constantly killing me,” he agreed. “I usually take a couple tennis balls in a sock to my shoulders. Hurts like hell, but the relief is worth it.”

A momentary silence filled the space as my mind slowed to nothing and sleep threatened. Before long, I slumped over, and only Sam’s gentle shake woke me. “Sorry. Castiel wasn’t joking. This exhaustion is fucking terrible.”

Sam squeezed my shoulders one more time before motioning towards the bed. “You should change and get some rest. When we get back to the Bunker, I can really take care of these.” He prodded the lingering knot at the base of my neck.

“I could return the favor, too,” I suggested as I stood.

It wasn’t until I turned to him and found a blush on his cheeks, similar to Dean’s, that I understood. “I mean, only if you want, just thought I’d offer, you know, it’s fine if you don’t, I get it, it’s kind of weird—”

“I would enjoy that very much.”

If I hadn’t been so damn tired, I might have made another move. But sleep beckoned—no, demanded—my attention. I offered my best beyond-exhausted smile as I turned for the bathroom and, once there, shut the door.

I didn’t bother locking it. I knew Sam wouldn’t come in unless I explicitly asked. And even then, knowing how I’d burned the wick at both ends for far too long, he would merely drag my dead weight into bed to sleep. And sleep I would. Dear Lord, I never knew the human body could experience such draining exhaustion.

After a quick change of clothes and a brushing of teeth, I left the bathroom and found Sam at the table pouring over dossiers. His brief smile faded the second he returned to the profiles, eager to get to the bottom of the case.

As I curled into bed, I convinced myself that he wanted to get back to the Bunker sooner than I did.

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

LONG JACKET MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #castiel #castiel fanfic #castiel fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction

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bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years

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Suptober Day 6: Mask

LoveBlock

Mature / A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show AU / Destiel / 2,735 words (Incomplete)

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Week 1

Castiel Novak tugged at the starched collar of his shirt, shifting from foot to foot in too-tight shoes. It was customary that the Alpha wore a tuxedo to the initial meeting though he wished that he’d insisted on that changing as well. The network had wanted something big for the fifth season of LoveBlock, something different. When Castiel got the call that he was one of the finalists chosen to be that year’s Alpha, he’d been understandably confused given that he’d not entered.

Change #1: Alphas were nominated by family or friends. Thanks, Gabriel.

Castiel did everything he could to throw the interview. He was gruff, unsmiling, and showed up with bedhead wearing the hideous trench coat their grandmother gave him when he’d gone off to college. He went out of his way to be cantankerous and rude, refusing to answer some questions and providing terrible answers to others.

Change #2: The chosen Alpha was quiet, withdrawn, and definitely not interested in finding their true mate. One might even call him an asshole.

In the end, Castiel had agreed to participate for two reasons and two reasons only. Gabriel would be given a huge promotion based on the fact that he’d convinced someone with no desire to be on the show to be their grumpy, jerk of an Alpha for the season, thus finally getting him out of Castiel’s condo. And the other…

Change #3: Contestants could reject the Alpha meaning any contestant that dropped out before Hometown week would be competing on a new network show, EscapePlan, to win $50,000. If the Alpha made it to the finale with any contestants left, he and his chosen mate would both win $100,000

“Stop fidgeting.” Gabriel nudged Castiel in such a way that the point of his elbow rolled painfully over the bone in his bicep, a practiced move he’d perfected when they were children.

Castiel flinched away but stood straighter. “My feet hurt. Why does the Alpha have to be in formal dress? The other contestants have to show their personalities not just with their masks but their clothes too. Why-“

“Shhh, my boss is coming!” Gabriel muttered out of the side of his mouth before stepping forward and extending his hand. “Mr. Shurley! So glad you could make it!”

Chuck Shurley gave a small, friendly wave in lieu of shaking Gabriel’s hand, and Gabe dropped it cringing. “Sorry, no offense man I just don’t shake hands. Nothing personal, promise.”

“No no, sorry I uh, forgot.” Gabe scratched his ear before he turned abruptly to Castiel. “You remember my brother.”

“Yes, of course. I liked the promos you did. They were very controversial. Exactly what we were looking for.” Chuck gave Castiel a nod. Castiel pressed his lips together in a caricature of a smile, but his disdain was evident. Chuck just grinned. “Gonna be a good season.” He looked over his shoulder at the commotion as Fergus Crowley moved towards them.

“Gents,” he said by way of greeting. “Chuck,” he added with a smirk, and Chuck gave a rueful smile in return.

“Glad to have you back, Crowley.” Chuck’s tone implied he was not remotely glad to have Crowley back.

“Glad you agreed to my demands during contract negotiations.” Crowley beamed with a smarmy grin.

Castiel looked to Gabriel who’s lips were puckered, eyes rolling up to look at the palm trees hanging over where they stood at the edge of the beach house’s wide circular drive. That was the face Gabe made when he was trying not to laugh. Castiel began to open his mouth to ask when he received another sharp jab to his upper arm.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Gabe gestured towards the space to the left where Castiel assumed visitors would park but was now lit and prepped for Crowley’s opening remarks before the cattle call began.

How do we fall in love? Do we see someone across the room, strike up a conversation, and the rest is history? Do we catch a whiff of a tantalizing or homey scent and follow the instincts of our secondary gender all the way to mating? Or is it possible to fall in love without seeing someone’s face? Without catching their scent?

For the last four seasons, we’ve been asking this question and so followed four alphas on the journey to true love. We watched them try and see past the contestants’ masks, week after week. We saw scent bonds break emotional bonds once the blockers came off. And we cheered when our Alpha looked into the face of his or her potential One True Mate.

This year, we do it again with an entirely new set of rules and an Alpha as you’ve never seen one. Welcome to LoveBlock.

The first limousine slithered up the drive toward Castiel, and he stood stock-still, hands crossed in front of himself. Gabriel had said it made him look like security and not the show’s Alpha, so Castiel had decided that would be how he would stand for the rest of his life. He did his best to ignore the camera to his left and the six or so people behind it as well as the camera to the right and its gaggle of crew meant to capture the contestants as he rushed over to help the contestant climb out of the limo.

Castiel stayed put, the moment stretching, and finally, the door opened, and what looked like the head of a wolf peeked out. “Um.”

“Come on then,” Castiel unclasped his hands to motion them forward, and he could hear the person give a stuttered, o-o-oh…, before a motorcycle boot appeared out the door. A slender woman in a leather jacket and jeans with a frighteningly furry mask walked over to him.

Castiel squinted his eyes. “You’re a horror fan.”

He felt the woman’s surprise more than saw it because well, obviously, and her voice was breathless when she asked, “How did you know?”

Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes, but his tone made his disdain clear. “Lucky guess.”

The woman hugged him anyway and went off to her first impression interview.

Hannah, Office Assistant, Beta

“Wow, they weren’t kidding when they said this Alpha was different! I mean still handsome,” Hannah paused, to tip her head from side to side, shifting the wolf-head mask in her lap, “which won’t matter in the end I know, I know. But if the guy is gonna be grumpy to start?” Hannah’s blue eyes widened emphatically as she pushed out her lower lip and her huff made her dark bangs flutter. “It’s nice that’s he’s something to look at, you know?”

And so it went for three more contestants. April, a plain brunette Beta who wore safety goggles and a medical mask, was deeply unimpressed that Castiel didn’t understand that she was a dental hygienist from her face coverings. Inias, a male Omega in a suit and the plain, white drama mask they used for group dates before The Scenting, told Castiel he’d have to work to get to know him. Castiel immediately decided he was going home that night. Then Kevin, an Omega college student wearing a giant paper mâché pie on his head, but instead of the typical latticed crust, it contained the numbers 3.14 because he liked math as well as desserts.

There was a bit of a delay after the fifth contestant exited the limo in an evening gown, fiery red hair pulled into an elegant up-do, wearing a printed paper mask with Crowley’s face on it.

“Mother!”

The woman huffed and halted barely two steps out of the limo. “Fergus, you’ve ruined the take! D’you want me to do it again?”

Castiel was intrigued by her Scottish burr as well as the fact that Gabriel had managed to get Fergus Crowley’s mother to compete on the show her son hosted and that was notorious for hookups with at least one group nude exhibition a season. That had to be some kind of miracle from the TV gods. Gabe did say he felt like this season had been blessed.

Once the yelling stopped, and Rowena, mother of one, Beta sashayed off to do her interview, the limo returned with another contestant. Word must have gotten out that he wasn’t opening the door for anyone, so this time, there was no wait, the door swinging open, and a hand curled over the top of the car while a dusty boot hit the ground. A fit young man pulled himself out, wearing a ripped pair of jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with a green and black plaid flannel over it, a welding mask covering his face. Castiel nearly rolled his eyes again as the man strode forward, hand extended.

“Hey man, D-”

Castiel cut him off as he clasped his hand tight, feeling the roughness of his palm, callouses on the fingertips. “You’re an artist.”

The welding mask tipped to the side, the man’s body stiffening before his grip became crushing, a throaty chuckle echoing from behind the metal. “Not even close. Mechanic.” Castiel winced as his hand was pumped vigorously. “Dean Winchester. Nice to meet ya.”

Castiel looked off-camera to Gabe. “I thought you said you weren’t bringing in Alphas this year.” His attention returned to Dean as he laughed harder this time.

“Wrong again. Man, this is gonna be fun.” Castiel jumped as one large hand clapped hard against his sternum twice before Dean began to walk away.

Castiel turned to watch him go, taking in his bow-legged gait as he entered the house to go do his first impression interview.

Dean was directed to a stool in the entryway situated in front of a camera and surrounded by lights. He plopped down, heaving a sigh as he flipped up his welding mask before pulling it off his head. He tried his best to ignore the murmurs from the women behind the camera as he dropped it to the floor with one hand, patting his hair down with the other. When he looked up, he could see everyone behind the camera had red eyes, except for the redheaded woman with the clipboard who looked annoyed.

“Sorry about them,” she muttered, jutting a thumb over her shoulder, and the Alphas blinked themselves back to brown or blue, “but in their defense I’m a Beta and a lesbian and woof your face is still pretty impressive.”

Dean managed to fight a blush as he gave a good-natured laugh. “It’s fine I get that a lot.” Dean shifted on his stool, situating his face into a calm, attentive expression, and waited for the Beta producer to look her fill.

“If you could start by stating your name, occupation and secondary gender for the graphics team. This is what will show at the bottom of the screen during your interviews.”

Dean gave a short nod. “I’m Dean Winchesteeeer…” He reached up to scratch at his ear. “Uh, mechanic.” He flicked up a hand and took a deep breath, sighing out, “Omega,” before letting his hand fall to his knee with a thump. It wasn’t enough to mask the unmistakable interested growls of the Alphas on the crew. The producer actually looked over her shoulder and glared at them.

“Go outside. All of you. Yes all of you the camera is stationary and already rolling I can turn it off when we’re done. Thank you. Byyyyyyye.”

Dean chuckled as the alpha cameraman and the other two, whatever they did, sulked away to the snack table. Dean let his amusement sit on his face as he looked back at the producer, who gave him a strained smile. “Sorry, again.”

“Not a problem. I figured I’d be just another piece of meat here anyway.” Dean gave an unaffected wave, and the producer frowned, marked something on her clipboard.

“I’m Charlie Bradbury-“

“Executive producer.” Dean nodded and stretched out a hand. “Nice to put a face to the name in the credits.”

Charlie shook his hand and gave him a surprised smile. “You watch the show?”

“Yeah!” Dean’s face scrunched as if to say, of course, I do, and Charlie tried to force back a laugh but only succeeded in choking herself. She knew the resulting grin he gave her was going to turn Alphas’ eyes red on couches across the country when this aired.

“So did you nominate yourself?”

Dean snorted. “No, no. I was completely content with this being my Thursday night guilty pleasure,” the guy actually licked his lips after he said it, and Charlie made a note to check if he’d done any acting. “My little brother actually nominated me. Said I need to find a nice Alpha and settle down.”

“That’s sweet.” Charlie jotted down, interview brother. “How old is your brother?”

“22,” Dean gave a casual shrug of his shoulder at Charlie’s questioning blink. “Yeah I know he’s also 6’4 so he’s really not that little but old habits die hard ya know? He’s in his first year at law school. He actually started watching the show his freshman year of college. It was one of those excuses to get everyone on the floor in the rec room and make friends.” Dean turned his head, squinting at the camera. “There may also have been a girl involved.”

Charlie let herself laugh this time. “But you also watch the show you said.”

Dean gave a nod. “Yeah, I mean he was in college and I didn’t understand half the shit… er, sorry.” Dean winced, and Charlie waved a hand before giving a sharp clap of her hands that made Dean jump.

“It’s so audio can find the cut faster. Makes a big jagged line in the file,” Charlie explained, and Dean’s eyebrows rose, lips twisting in an impressed expression. “Can you begin again at ‘I didn’t understand?’”

Dean cleared his throat and shifted on his stool again. “Uh yeah, um. I didn’t understand have the things he was talking about. I mean like I said I’m just a mechanic with a GED and a give em hell attitude.” He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes but grinned nonetheless. She was definitely going to be rooting for this guy. “But he went on and on about the show because, like I said,” Dean widened his eyes and muttered conspiratorially through closed teeth, “there may have been a girl involved,” He shook his head and smile. “So I started watching just to have something to talk about with him.” Dean rubbed his palms up and down his thighs a few times. “Well and to help the poor kid talk to the girl. He’s smart and an Alpha but man is he bad with the ladies.” Dean gave a smirk that morphed into a grin before he looked at the floor.

“So are you looking for your One True Mate?” Charlie felt a warm flutter in her chest as Dean lifted his head, green eyes wide and full lips parted in genuine surprise before a blush began to creep up his neck.

“Ah… you know…” Dean grimaced and hissed, giving the camera a side-eye. “I’m not sure they exist.” He gave a shrug. “I mean, that Alpha out there?” Dean jutted a thumb over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. “Not a bad looking dude. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.” Dean smirked again and chuckled. “But did my insides go gooey at the first whiff of his scent?” Dean scrunched his nose and shook his head.

Charlie smiled. “What did he smell like to you?”

Dean rolled his eyes before closing them and doing a slow-motion fist pump as he mouthed yes. “The first smell montage. Seriously,” Dean gestured with both hands splaying his fingers and then wiggling them excitedly. “It’s my favorite.”

He cleared his throat as Charlie laughed again.

“Uh…hmmmm.” He pursed his lips, looking up and to the right, and Charlie was convicted this guy had at least modeled before because he found the light instantly. His eyes tightened just enough to slant his expression into a sultry stare but let the green of his eyes stay visible. “Rain.” He gave a satisfied nod and looked back at her. “Or, really, a thunderstorm. That thick smell before the thunder and lightening show starts.”

He nodded again, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. “Which seems pretty appropriate given the circumstances.”

#suptober20 #suptober #destiel #spn fanfic #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me

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themoonandotherslikeit · 5 years

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The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 30

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Thirty, The Time Has Come for Letting Go

Ella

About sixteen years later

"Hey, Dad," I said, poking my head into his bathroom. He was shaving, and cream covered half of his face. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, kid."

"Sorry I'm such an ass."

"Me too, for the record." He winked at me, running the razor over his skin, leaving a line in the cream.

"I see where I get it." I grinned, walking past him. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, and watched him rid himself of stubble. He always looked younger when he was bare faced. "You mad at me?"

"Never." Dad smiled at me. "I made you, which means I'm never gonna be mad at you. Frustrated at times, but never mad."

"Hm." I looked down at my hands. "Even if I told you I was wasted when Claire found me?"

"Steal my good whiskey that I've been saving?"

"What? No."

"Then, nah I'm not mad. You're a good kid, El. The reason you're so upset is because of me, so I don't blame you for drowning it a bit."

I shook my head. I couldn't ask for a better dad. Claire was right. "They were setting up for the Halloween festival."

"Oh yeah? That time already?"

"Mhm. If you don't have any cases lined up I was thinking... maybe we could all go, like as a family. Dads, Jackie, Claire, the whole nine."

"What about the newest member?"

"What?"

"Clementine." He grinned at me, before splashing his face with water.

"Christ, Dad. No, the cat isn't coming."

"She's kind of cute, though. If you get past the initial shock factor. Actually kinda looks like you when you were a baby,” he teased.

"I'm so bad at rebellious activity. I'm failing miserably."

"You have no idea how happy that makes me, kid." Dad leaned forward and placed a kiss on my head. "I think the festival sounds like a great time. I'll talk to Sammy and Cas about it."

I wrapped my arms around his waist, and buried my face in his chest. "I really miss you when you leave, you know."

He wrapped his arms around me protectively, like he'd been doing all my life. "I know,” he murmured. "I miss you too."

"Did Mom go on cases with you?" I asked when we released each other from our hug.

"Yeah." He smiled. "She was damn good, too. Saved my tail multiple times. She had this way about her. She could put together a puzzle without lookin at the picture on the box. She was always finding the answer. She said she had instinct, which was true, but she also was fighting against her gender. The hunter world is like all the others, a mans world. And fuck did she make us all regret feeling that way." He laughed.

He seemed so effortless, lost in the memory. His green eyes seemed far away. He closed them for a moment. "Sammy and I walked into a trap, and she saved our ass. Us and uncle Bobby." He laughed lightly. "She put two and two together in a way I never could."

"Bet she didn't let you live that save down."

He laughed and grinned at me. "No way. She rubbed it in all the time. That was... that was the first night I spent with her." He met my eyes. "You probably don't want to hear about that. Your parents as people and all."

"No." I reached for his hand. "If you want to tell me, I want to hear it. I want to hear about how you fell in love."

Maybe it was the fact that we weren't fighting, or maybe that I knew he was going to die that made him crack open to me. He exposed his soft under belly, and I was going to poke it. I had to.

"I got hit real hard in the head. Kind of fucked up my inhibitions." He looked down, touching the back of his head, like he was in the memory. "She was watching me, to make sure I didn't die in my sleep. I told her I thought she was beautiful. Cute to be exact, and she didn't like that. Thought I was patronizing her. She chewed me out, and I had to explain... I meant she was cute. She was beautiful. Hell, kid, she was everything I didn't know I wanted."

"How'd she react to that news?" I asked, literally on the edge of my seat.

"She told me we couldn't have anything. ‘t was too dangerous. Not even for a night."

"But?"

"But I convinced her." He grinned. "I'm basically irresistible."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help smiling along with him. "What then?"

"We stayed together all night. I think that was the night I realized that I was in deep. Before I knew I didn't want to live without her, and that was the night that I knew I couldn't ever lose her. So when she said it was a one night only occurrence I had to agree, even though it hurt like hell."

"It obviously didn't last."

He looked down bashfully and sighed a bit. "No. It didn't last. Nothing ever does." He looked back at me. "I'm tired. Raincheck, kiddo?"

"Of course," I said, quietly. A pang in my chest. I knew I hurt his feelings. I poked the wrong place and he curled back into himself, covering that vulnerable spot. I stood up and hugged him one more time. "Night, Daddy. Love you." I kissed his smooth, minty cheek.

"Love you too, Nel."

Dean

Present

"Where the fuck?" I was in my kitchen with my wife. She held baby Nel in her arms, and I was leaning in to kiss her. I leaned forward to press my lips to hers and I fell forward. She was gone, and when I opened my eyes I was in a weird, white, sterile room. There was a round table and two chairs. One door and no windows. I suddenly felt really fucking claustrophobic.

"Hello, Dean. It's almost time."

I turned, recognizing the gruff voice. "Cas? You literally ripping me out of the arms of my wife?"

Cas blinked numbly at me, and I turned again, feeling eyes on the back of my head.

Zachariah smiled at me. I'd met the angel a few times, and he always gave me the creeps. The gray whisps coming off his head seemed to float, like he was electrically charged at all times.

"Hello, Dean. You're looking fit."

"Well, how 'bout this? The Suite Life of Zach and Cas." I stared at the two angels. It was like talking to a fucking wall. I pinched the bridge of my nose with a sigh. "It's a... never mind. So, what is this? Where the hell am I?" I gestured to the room.

"Call it a Green Room. We're closing in on the grand finale, here. We want to keep you safe before showtime." He snapped his fingers, a few beers and a pile of bacon cheeseburgers appeared on a large platter. I raised an eyebrow. If things didn't smell so fucking fishy I'd be stoked. I realized, with a growl of my stomach, that I couldn't remember the last meal Ava and I had that didn't consist of just black coffee. "Try a burger. They're your favorite. From that seaside shack in Delaware. You were 11, I think."

"Not hungry."

"No? How about Ginger from season 2 of Gilligan's Island? You do have a thing for her, don't you?"

I gasped dramatically. "Zach, I'm married."

"We'll throw in Mary Ann for free."

I rolled my eyes. This dude was fucking weird. "No, no. Let's... bail on the holodeck, okay? I want to know what the game plan is."

"Let us worry about that. We want you... focused, relaxed."

I flexed my hands at my sides. Ava was going to be seriously worried. I felt my pants pocket. Empty, of course. My phone was on the kitchen counter. "Well, I'm about to be pissed and leaving, so start talking, Chuckles."

Zach clasped his hands with a sigh. "All the seals have fallen. Except one."

"That's an impressive score. That's... that's right up there with the Washington Generals."

"You think sarcasm's appropriate, do you? Considering... you started all of this? But the final seal... it'll be different."

I frowned, not liking being reminded of Hell. Keep me comfortable my ass. "Why?"

"Lilith has to break it. She's the only one who can. Tomorrow night at midnight."

I stood up a little straighter. It was time. "Where?"

"We're working on it."

"Well, work harder!" I shouted. This guy was testing my patience. I glanced at Cas who was silently pressed against the wall, avoiding me.

"We'll do our job," Zachariah promised. "You just make sure you do yours."

I crossed my arms. "Yeah, and what is that, exactly? If I'm supposed to be the one that stops her, how? With the knife?"

I lazy smile touched Zachariahs lips. "All in good time."

I narrowed my eyes. "Isn't now a good time? You know, before she breaks the seal?"

"Have faith."

"What, in you? Give me one good reason why I should." I took a step closer to him.

"Because you swore your obedience. So obey."

I looked to Cas again, this time I caught him looking at me, but he immediately averted his gaze. What the hell is going on here? There was something they weren't saying. Something Cas wanted to say, but couldn't. He was an open book, that kid.

"I do want something, after all."

Zachariah raised an eyebrow. "Of course. What can I get you?"

"I want to talk to Cas. Alone."

Zachariah glanced at Cas, and groaned. "Fine. Castiel you have your orders." He pointed before snapping his fingers, and disappearing into thin air.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Cas asked, not stepping any closer to me.

"Yeah, man. I do. Listen, I need you to take me to see Sam," I said desperately. Something felt wrong, and I was worried. Ava was right, of fucking course she was. If it walks like a duck, it's probably a fucking duck, and the confined spaces of my new digs were making me feel like this duck had teeth.

"I cannot allow that."

I walked to him. "What's wrong with you? Of course you can. I just need to talk to him, Cas. Bring him here. I don't care."

"You want to speak to him after how your last conversation went?"

"That's exactly why."

"He is dangerous, Dean. He has consumed a lot of demon blood," Cas said gently.

I winced. I was hoping otherwise, but I wasn't exactly surprised.

"We need to protect him. We need to stop him from jumping into the ring with Lilith. If I can take her down... we have to help Sam before he gets killed."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I can't do that."

"So what? Am I trapped here?"

"Of course not."

"Then I want to go for a walk," I said flatly, eyeing the door.

"I'm not sure that's wise."

"What the fuck is happening, Cas? Just be a man! Just tell me!"

Suddenly Zachariah poofed back into the room.

"Christ, man. You don't know how to knock," I complained. "Let me out of here," I said right to Zachariah.

He shook his head. "Can't. It's too dangerous out there. Demons on the prowl."

I laughed out loud and shook my head. "Yeah, I don't buy that for a second. I've been getting my ass kicked all year. Now you're sweating my safety? You're lying. I want to see my brother."

"That's... ill-advised."

"You know, I am so sick of your crap riddles and your smug, fat face. What the hell is going on, huh? Why can't I see Sam? And how am I gonna ice Lilith?"

Zachariah sighed and rubbed his temples. Didn't know angels got headaches, but it seemed like I annoyed Zach into getting one. "You're not going to ice Lilith."

"Excuse me?"

"Lilith's going to break the final seal. Fait accompli at this point. Train's left the station."

"But me and Sam, we can stop..." It was like someone turned the lights on. Like I'd been sitting in the darkness. "Holy fuck. You don't want to stop it, do you?"

"Nope. Never did. The end is nigh,” he said casually. "The apocalypse is coming, kiddo, to a theater near you."

I clenched my fists, my daughter's face flashing in my mind. I've been so stupid. "What was all that crap about saving seals?"

"Our grunts on the ground...we couldn't just tell them the whole truth. We'd have a full-scale rebellion on our hands. I mean, think about it. Would we really let 65 seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?"

"But why?" I glanced at Cas. He was avoiding my eyes again. Fucking coward.

"Why not? The apocalypse? Poor name, bad marketing ya know? Puts people off. When all it is is Ali/Foreman on a slightly larger scale, and we like our chances. When our side wins it's paradise on earth. Now, what's not to like about that?"

"Sounds too good to be true," I said smugly. "What happens to all the people during your little pissing contest?"

"Well... you can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case... truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. Look, it happens. This isn't the first planetary enema we've delivered."

Suddenly I was glad that my brother wasn't here. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was our only hope. "What about Sam? He won't go quietly. He'll stop Lilith."

"Sam... has a part to play. A very important part. He may need a little nudging in the right direction, but I'll make sure he plays it."

"What the fuck does that mean? What are you gonna do to him?"

"Forget about him, would you? You have larger concerns. Why do you think I'm confiding in you? You're still vital, Dean. We weren't lying about your destiny. Just omitted a few pertinent details. But nothing's changed. You are chosen. You will stop it. Just not Lilith, or the apocalypse. That's all."

"Which means?"

Zach smiled, causing my stomach to drop. "Lucifer. You're going to stop Lucifer."

I felt like the room was spinning. "Tell me something. Where's God in all this?"

Zach laughed humorlessly. "God? God has left the building."

I pulled back my fist, wanting nothing more than to knock this smug son of a bitch out, but he blinked away from me again, right as my fist was about to collide with his jaw.

I fell to my knees and shouted, slamming my fists into the stark white tile.

"Dean," Cas said weakly.

I looked up at him desperately. "What are you gonna do to Sam?"

"Nothing. He's gonna do it to himself."

"What's that supposed to mean? God, just say what you mean! For once in your fucking life be honorable. I know Ava talked to you about that. I know that's why you healed me. We have somethin, Cas. Don't act like you don't know it. You aren't like these cold bastards,” he said nothing. Blank, like a fucking statue. Maybe I was wrong all this time. "Yeah, well, fuck you too. Why are you even here?"

"We've been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it ended like this."

I pulled myself to my feet. "Sorry? That's fucking rich man!" I said, my fist colliding with his jaw. I needed to hit something. Anything. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hold my daughter. I wanted to say goodbye, because the longer I was here, the more I realized that I would lose that chance. "It's Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than sorry."

Cas sighed, not even moved by my hit, even though my own knuckles throbbed. "Try to understand. This is long foretold. This is your..."

"Destiny? Don't give me that bullshit. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families... My wife, my baby, my brother. Family. That's real. And you're really gonna watch them all burn?"

Cas finally broke. He raised his voice, poking me in the chest. "What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you, Dean. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at peace, even with Sam. Ava and Eleanor will be there, too."

"Don't you fucking say their names." I clenched my fist and shook my head, avoiding his striking blue eyes. "You can take your peace and shove it up your lily-white ass. 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise. Ava's always told me that anything worth having hurts. The idea of losing it can tear you apart, but that's what makes it worth having." I turned back to him. "This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it." He turned away from me, and I grabbed his shoulder. "Look at me, damn it! Help me, Cas!"

Cas paused for a moment before answering. "What would you have me do?"

"Get me to Sam," I said, desperately. "We can stop this before it's too late."

"I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed."

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it," I told him, but he shook his head and sighed. "So, what? I offer to help you. You fuckers lie to me, and now I don't even get to say goodbye before you blow up the planet and for some cheap ass promise of paradise. I've heard it all before." I shook my head. "It's never what they say it is, Cas. One mans paradise is another mans Hell, and you know that I know all about Hell."

"Dean..."

"No, you spineless, son of a bitch. I'm done. We're done here."

The room was empty again, and I fell to the floor. I closed my eyes, wishing I could reach out to Ava. To pray to her like I could to the angels. Baby if you can hear me, I'm so sorry. I did what I thought was right, but I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong... again.

I hit my head against the wall a few times, wishing for some clarity that I knew wouldn't come. It couldn't come. Sam was going to die hunting Lilith. The world was going to burn. I wouldn't see Nel grow up, or kiss Ava again. When was our last kiss? I couldn't even remember.

Great.

Squeak. I opened an eye, to see Cas shuffling across the floor in his cheap, brown dress shoes. They made this annoying rubber sound against the tile. "What are you doing here? I told you to go. God, let me just be miserable in peace."

Cas ignored me, rushing to the wall, he took a blade and sliced open his hand. I stood up slowly as he started painting in his own blood. "What are you?"

Zachariah poofed in, almost as if an alarm went off saying Hello Castiel is rebelling, again, wee woo wee woo. "Castiel what do you think you're doing?"

Cas turned to Zachariah, holding his hand up to the sigil. The same one Anna had drawn so long ago. "I'm choosing honor,” he said before pressing his palm to the sigil, sending Zachariah flying out of the room.

"Cas?"

"He won't be gone long. We have to find Sam now,” he said, his hand wound already healed.

"Where is he?" I asked, rushing to him.

"I don't know," Cas shook his head. "But I know who does. We have to stop him, Dean, from killing Lilith."

I frowned. "But Lilith's gonna break the final seal."

He shook his head, grabbing my forearm with a strength that I wouldn't expect from such a little guy. "Lilith is the final seal. She dies, the end begins."

—————

Chapter Thirty-One, We Would Always End Here

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actual-leia-organa · 5 years

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30 Huddy Headcanons

send me a pairing & a number, then I’ll tell you:

So my pal @queenraynajaymes requested I do every single one of these OTP prompts. Thanks?????

Please enjoy!

Who is the most affectionate?

They’re both affectionate, just in their own ways. Cuddy is more “public”- she’ll say “I love you” within earshot of other people, she’ll lean over and gently kiss House in public, she’ll hold his hand after he attempts to grope her in the hospital. But House? House has an affectionate side that no one would have predicted. As often as he can he’ll have a hand on her, his arm around her, his fingers stroking her bare skin. He’ll press kisses to the top of her head and lead hugs. He just seems to want his hands on her at all times, and his touch is so soft and reverent, revealing how in awe he is that he gets to touch her. He whispers his affection in the dark of night, as if sharing his deepest secret, and whispers sweet nothings to Cuddy as she sleeps.

Big spoon/Little spoon?

They don’t really spoon as such, as lying on his side -at least when awake- is difficult for House as it puts pressure on his thigh or stretches muscles that just aren’t there. They have their own way of spooning, where House will lie on his back, arms outstretched, while Cuddy would lie on her side and curl around him, an arm around his torso and her head on his chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

Most common argument?

They don’t do “common” and this also applies to arguments. They’ll go toe to toe over anything and everything- work, home, family...sides of the bed, shampoo, shoes...but even through their bickering they show their love and affection and Rachel grows up with two parents who’ll constantly build each other up and she’ll know that they love each other and her more than anything and that she should always stand her ground, and people will love her for it.

Favorite non-sexual activity?

Cuddling on the couch. Well, it’s more House makes himself comfortable, remote in one hand, slouched against the couch cushions with his feet on the coffee table. Cuddy would fold herself in next to him, one arm wrapped around his stomach and her head on his shoulder. His free arm would come around her and his fingers would gently stroke her arm. They’d stay like that, in front of the tv, until one or both of them drift off to sleep. Then they’d wake each other and walk down the darkened hallway holding hands before falling into bed and spooning together.

Who is most likely to carry the other?

Cuddy is like a foot shorter than House and quite petite, but he’s got a leg that can barely sustain just his weight let alone anyone else’s (and the part in Now What when he carries her is bs fight me) so no one’s going to be carrying anyone and/or screwing against the wall. Cuddy can sometimes sense he wants to grab her or hold her a certain way that won’t work and he always deflects his frustration with a comment about the gravitational pull of her ass and she just lets it slide with a little breathless laugh that he loves and lets him move her how he wants to to get what he needs...and leaves them both satisfied.

What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Cuddy thinks for a second before her reply. “His eyes” She says softly. “You can tell so much from his eyes, more than he would ever say.”

When asked, House pauses. “Her eyes, when she’s angry and they catch the light...her hair, the way it curls and is soft to run your fingers through...her lips, they’re so soft and kissable...her nose...oh her neck, I love to kiss her neck…” and he can’t stop because he’s so in awe of this woman he loves and in his mind she is just the ultimate in beauty.

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other?

Cuddy realises she’s fallen for House when she lets him get away with crazy procedures she’d normally say no to, and then she finds herself second guessing herself and trying to guess House’s next move - and failing miserably because if he’s predictable in any way it's that he’s always unpredictable, and then suddenly she realises she’s talking about him way more than usual (or appropriate…) and wearing tighter skirts and lower cut shirts and throwing a little extra in her hips when she walks and it's not until Wilson corners her about her about “seducing” House and how House has gone to Wilson about how damn obvious (and yet irresistible) she’s acting, and Wilson is in her face about how she’s stringing him along, and she has no right, when Cuddy finally speaks. “I think I love him.” And for once Wilson is speechless.

House, well he is a master deflector, and he just steps it up a notch when he starts entertaining thoughts of Cuddy beyond his usual fantasies. He steps up the banter and comments about her ass, but at the same time he gets further into her personal space and not moving away when she touches him. But she’s haunting him, her voice, her smell, just...her. And one day he bursts into Wilson’s office, throws himself down on the couch and sighs. “I’m in love with Cuddy.”

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

House calls Cuddy “Cuddles”, which she finds sweet in private but mortifying in public, which obviously House loves. He never calls her Lisa, because it reminds them both of their one night in college- and what came after.

Cuddy just calls House House, because she feels distinctly weird calling him Greg (it always reminds her of Stacy and she doesn’t want to go there), plus he’s not really suited for nicknames.

Who worries the most?

Easily Cuddy, and it’s something House is constantly at her about. The hospital, Rachel, her Mom, House. If she’s not worrying she’s not herself. At first House is nervous, bordering on flat out anxious, about how to deal with her stress and worries- especially when he’s the cause. It takes one night when Cuddy is near tears over the board, when she flings herself across the couch into his arms and speaks, her voice muffled against his chest. “Just hold me, House.”

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant?

They both quickly learn what foods the other is partial to, and they introduce dates where they order for each other, House always absolutely nailing her order and having Cuddy in near orgasmic bliss from food, while Cuddy scans the menu anxiously, trying to pick apart ingredients to find the perfect dish for House- yet he always clears his plate, eagerly looking for the dessert menu, and telling Cuddy “I don’t know why you stress. I’ll eat anything. Except tofu.”

Who tops?

They honestly couldn’t tell you who is on top more often. House likes the power of being on top, thrusting hard into Cuddy as she lays beneath with her head thrown back and hands fisting the sheets. But man oh man does he love it when she takes control and climbs on top of him to ride him with abandon. He watches her hands go to her hair and her breasts move as her hips rock, his hands on her waist as his eyes fall to watch himself disappear into her. Cuddy riding him always guarantees a fast and satisfying orgasm for both of them.

Who initiates kisses?

In public it’s House- at the hospital because he likes to cause a scene, and out in public because he wants everyone to know that such a gorgeous woman is his. When they’re alone however, it’s Cuddy that leans in first, her lips parted and her breathing heavy. She loves the feel of his soft lips on hers and the gentle scrape of his scruff.

Who reaches for the other’s hand first?

House. It’s part of his incessant need to publicly claim Cuddy as his (and honestly, she doesn’t mind it). She naturally walks on his left to keep out of the way of his cane, and she’d often find his hand brushing hers before reaching out to hold hands. And although at first she has some weird thing about doing it and throwing his balance off (to which House scoffs, “I have a bad leg, not bad balance. And I’m slightly offended you even think that.”) she comes to find herself reaching for his hand as they walk, even if it’s just across the clinic to the cafeteria.

Who kisses the hardest?

House. He always seems to kiss like if he holds back she’ll disappear (and honestly after his hallucinations and breakdown she can’t really blame him) but she feels like she’s going through her make up twice as fast, trying to cover the redness from his stubble rubbing against her- a feeling she loves, but let’s be honest, pash rash on a Dean of Medicine is not a good look. And sometimes she’ll pull him up, ask him to kiss her softly, to gently feel his soft lips on hers without that tinge of desperation that’s often there. And he’ll listen, capturing her lip with his teeth and causing her to moan against his mouth.

Who wakes up first?

House is the insomniac so if we’re counting any time after midnight as “first” it’s gonna be him, even if most times he manages to drift back off. And it’s often House as the first one up if the team is at the hospital overnight and he has to go in. Cuddy learns to sleep through the 2am differentials and to drift back off after House kisses her with a murmured “I have to go in.” But on a regular day it’s Cuddy who’s up first, getting up as House hides under a pillow, ready to start her day.

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer?

Well the obvious answer is House, but with him if he wants to sleep in he just does. The one who wants to sleep in, but won’t allow themselves to is Cuddy. Her alarm goes off at 5, resulting in a groan from House as he puts a pillow over his head, Cuddy manoeuvring underneath it to give him a kiss. Sometimes he’ll wake up- just enough to be in the mood- other times he’ll return to snoring as Cuddy reluctantly climbs out of bed and into her yoga attire. House will sleep through her yoga, her shower, getting Rachel up and ready, and breakfast. Marina will arrive and keep Rachel quiet as Cuddy heads off to work. The smell of the coffee maker will rouse House, and he’ll stumble half asleep down the hall, ruffle Rach’s hair as she passes her, and head straight for the coffee.

Who says I love you first?

I’ve headcanoned this one before, here, have a handy copy pasta:

Trick answer. House said it first, but Cuddy was fast asleep and didn’t hear him, and he’d never admit to it anyway, and was shocked at himself for it slipping out. He hadn’t said it since Stacy, but watching Cuddy peacefully sleep, curled up beside him, the words felt like the most natural thing in the word. The first to say it when both of them are awake is Cuddy, after tearing herself up for a week about whether she was ready to say those words and whether House was ready to hear them. Once they were said, he accepted it in his typical Housian way, no “I love you too”- not for a long time. And whilst they both knew the love was there, they weren’t constantly showering “I love you”s on each other, because that’s not how they operate.

Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

House wouldn’t so much leave notes in Cuddy’s lunch, as that would require him to prepare her lunch and guys, this is House we’re talking about. But he would leave Cuddy notes in all sorts of ways- the fog in the bathroom mirror, post-it’s on her desk, quick little emails and sneaky texts, ranging from near soppy to x-rated. And as much as it frazzles Cuddy and sometimes outright embarrasses her, at the end of the day they always make her smile.

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first?

Honestly neither of them are forthcoming or keen to tell their families- just having the hospital know is enough for them, as they’re both intensely private. But Julia wrangles it out of Cuddy one weekend, even managing to get out of her who she is dating. “House? Greg House? The guy who left you in college to deal with all sorts of shit and now makes your life hell on a regular basis? That Greg House?” and all Cuddy can do is nod, knowing that it’s now just a matter of time until her mother knows and has to meddle.

House keeps his secret for much longer- it’s also easier when he never sees his mother and barely calls her. Blythe finds out from Wilson, who she called for an update on her son, and Wilson assumes she already knew when he blathered about how House was on a weekend away with Cuddy. “Cuddy? Lisa Cuddy, his boss? Are they at a conference? I told Greg he should get back into speaking, he’s so good at it…” “uhhhh….no. They’re on a weekend away together.” “Together?” “Yes, they’re dating...didn’t House tell you?” Wilson feels the colour drain from his face. House is going to kill me.

What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Julia thinks Cuddy is insane for dating Greg House, she’s heard nothing but Cuddy complaining about him for over 20 years. “What on earth made you change your mind?”

Arlene wants Cuddy to settle down, raise Rachel in a “proper” family. She’s constantly at them to get married and at House to adopt Rachel. And of course, they have to have a baby of their own.

Blythe is just pleased as punch that her son has found someone- she’d pretty much given up hope. And whilst she tries to keep her dreams to herself, she does poke at House about marriage and maybe giving her a dreamed of grandchild.

Wilson is kind of bamboozled by the whole thing, and honestly tries to keep his meddling to a minimum, no matter how much they try to draw him in. He does make some comments about House “settling down” but at the end of the day all he wants is to see House happy.

Who is more likely to start dancing with the other?

Cuddy is the one to be found dancing around as she cooks, cleans, tidies her wardrobe...she loves to have 80s pop hits on and have a jive. She also listens to music out loud and songs that are easier to dance to. But as much as she tries House doesn’t join her, which hurts her because she knows he loves music and has such an innate sense of rhythm and movement. Even with his leg he’s still such a graceful and coordinated person. It’s last one night when Cuddy comes out of Rachel’s room to find House standing by the stereo, a blues record on. She comes up behind him and wraps her arms around him, just holding him as they listen. Eventually she picks up on the rhythm and starts to sway, pulling House with her. They stay that way, quietly swaying, until he turns and takes her in his arms, swaying still but adding steps. They slow dance in the middle of the lounge room until the needle scratches the middle of the record.

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking?

Cuddy only really started cooking because of Rachel, previously she subsisted on salads or frozen healthy meals since she found cooking for one boring and depressing. But she knew kids needed balanced diets and lots of nutrients to get the best start, and she knew the best way to get that was to cook herself. And Rachel normally ate the same as her, except for the occasional night when she’d cry for mac and cheese and Cuddy would be tired and cave.

But House? Just like every other goddamn thing he turns his mind to, he excels at cooking. Cuddy never forgot that time in Wilson’s kitchen when House was fresh from Mayfield and she sampled his cooking, and she makes sure he knows it. She’d rarely make a demand that he cook, and at first he let her do all the cooking because he felt it was Cuddy wanting control, but eventually they shifted to sharing the cooking, to House cooking for the three of them and Cuddy stepping in when he was at work and missed dinner- but she’d always be sure to leave him a plate for when he eventually stumbled home.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines?

House. He’d come up with jokes and puns and throw them at Cuddy whenever he felt she needed a pick me up and he never failed to get her to laugh- and he loved hearing her laugh.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

This is obviously House, he enjoys stirring Cuddy by being completely inappropriate at all times, and she feels like it gets worse when they’re together- but at the same she knows it’s a front, he acts like that in front of other people for her attention, which he craves.

But Cuddy gets her own back- she’s a master at sneaky hot texts, sent when she knows House is stuck in clinic duty or a differential and will have to spend the rest of the day with certain thoughts of her in his head.

Who needs more assurance?

The initial thought is Cuddy (hello, look at House supporting her in 5 to 9), as she’s under constant pressure, she’s a perfectionist, and she feels like a failure at the slightest provocation. House said to Wilson early in the relationship that he didn’t know what to say, that he couldn’t support her. “House, you’ve been supporting her for years. Your trust in her, your insane obsession with her keeping her job...you build her up without even knowing it. Just be there, be yourself, for her.” So House does, eventually learning how to let her lean on him.

But House, he too needs support and assurance. Cuddy thought he was invincible, but as they spent more time together outside of work, the more she saw his weaknesses, his worries. She worried when he was in depressive episodes after losing a patient, sitting with him and gently reassuring him that he did everything right, that he did more than any other doctor, that he went above and beyond. She’d sit with him in the dark as he played his piano and pressed soft kisses to her shoulder. She learnt how anxious he was about her seeing his struggles with his leg, how he lay with a pillow under his knee, or how he sometimes could barely stand in the morning. She reminded him that her love for him was for more than his leg, and she learnt what to do to help him.

They were two people who never wanted their weaknesses seen, but trusted each other enough that they let the other in.

What would be their theme song?

I have SO MANY Huddy songs that I honestly can’t pick one because there are so many moments between them that can be set to music, so please enjoy the whole Spotify playlist I dedicated to them HERE

Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Cuddy would be the one to do Rachel’s bedtime routine more often- not because House didn’t want to, and not because Rachel didn’t want him to (quite the opposite), but because he’d often come home too late or pull all nighters at the hospital and miss Rach’s bedtime. Cuddy would bathe her, help her into her pajamas and tuck her in with a story. Singing was rare, really only used when Rach was unsettled or sick and wanted to be held and rocked. Cuddy would sing more often, but her voice wasn’t as good at House’s, and his singing for Rachel (and Cuddy eavesdropping) was a rare treat. He didn’t really know children’s songs or nursery rhymes, but he’d rock Rachel to sleep with Hallelujah, or a long blues song which told a tale. Rachel would snuggle into his chest and her breathing would calm to the rhythm of the song, sending her back to sleep. As he finished the song Cuddy would step forward and take her from his lap and tuck her in.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Weirdly, the one thing neither of them do is sprawl. Despite both having been long-term single and having their beds to themselves, they both quickly settle into his-and-hers sides.

When House has been days on a case and Cuddy has barely seen him at the hospital let alone at home, she’ll pull one of his tees out of the hamper to wear to bed, and cuddle his pillow. The best moment of those nights is when she’s so desperate to feel him next to her that she feels herself finally relax when his weight hits the mattress in the early hours.

House is rarely without Cuddy, especially after they decided to spend every night together prior to his officially moving in. But when she leaves for a conference and Rachel is at Julia’s (House offered to watch her but Cuddy had just had a case land on her desk and didn’t want him feeling like he was neglecting either the patient or Rachel, so together they decided she would go to Julia’s for the three days) he finds himself at a loose end. He orders in, has too many leftovers, parks in front of the tv with a beer, and suddenly remembers his life before Cuddy, and how lonely and empty it was. His cold dark apartment, his empty fridge, his lonely bed. And he misses Cuddy like crazy, but knows she’s at a dinner and won’t be free to talk. He wished they’d moved his piano sooner, not sure he could last the weekend without both it and Cuddy, and even without Rachel. He sacks out on the couch, counting down the minutes until his phone rings- Cuddy’s ringtone. He answers after one ring and instantly relaxes at the sound of her voice. “God I miss you” are the first words out of his mouth.

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

That Cuddy was very early on in a pregnancy when Moving On happened. Early enough that she didn’t know, and barely suspected. It was only after the shock of her house being destroyed and hours of questioning that she collapsed and was taken to hospital. Coming around in the ER the doc asked her if there was any chance she was pregnant. Her initial reaction was to answer no, as the years had taught her that her chances of conceiving were slim, and getting slimmer every year. But she hadn’t used protection with House and she knew when it came to him anything was possible. She shrugged at the doctor and uttered a soft “maybe”, so tests were run and there it was, black and white on a lab report. Positive pregnancy test. She was pregnant. With House’s baby. The man who had just put her through the wringer, driven his car into her house, and had now fled. He was gone, she was a wreck...and she was carrying his child. She told no-one besides Julia and her mother, both sworn to secrecy. She packed up her and Rachel’s lives and moved them across the country, as far as she could get from New Jersey and memories of him. She didn’t even return for his trial, just listened to the updates her lawyer left on her machine and tried to forget him. But months later she gave birth alone, gave birth to a little boy with his father’s eyes and cheeky smile. His father’s chestnut hair and insatiable curiosity. She gave birth to a boy who was his father in miniature and every day she was reminded of him. House lived his life regretting everything he ever did to Cuddy, wishing he could go back and undo every mistake he made, wondering if she thought of him, not knowing that Cuddy was reminded of him every day with their son.

one headcanon about this OTP that mends it

That bombshells never happened. That moving on never happened. That the scam wedding never happened (and I’m currently writing a fic that fixes that) but one I have that I love, set during the bar scene in The Fix...

The whisky burned in his throat as he downed his eighth drink and gently shook his head against his blurring vision. His eyes were focused on the well worn paper in his hand, a colour photograph the only woman he’d truly loved and the little girl he’d grown to love. Cuddy. Rachel.

He keeps drinking and reminiscing before starting the fight. Knocked unconscious, the bartender gets his emergency contact card out of House’s wallet - Cuddy is listed. She comes to pick him up.

He comes around in her car, the lights in the dark swirling around and making him feel ill.

“Why did you come”

“Because I knew no one else would.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, Cuddy.” His voice is so soft she barely hears it. He repeats himself, suddenly in near tears.

She tells him to shush, that they’re nearly home.

“What?” His addled brain notes they’re at Cuddy’s house. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I’m not leaving you to sleep this off alone.”

She helps him in the door and he collapses onto her couch with a groan.

She pays the evening sitter before turning to House, pulling her afghan over him and removing his shoes. He groans again, nearly asleep.

“Stay awake a little longer. When did you last have a Vicodin?”

“Drink...two.”

Cuddy leaves but shortly returns with aspirin and water. “Take these, then you can sleep.”

He slugs down the pills and sinks into the couch cushions, but as Cuddy turns to leave him he lunges and grabs her arm, pulling her forward to meet his bloodshot eyes.

“I’m sorry Cuddy.”

“House…”

He falls back into the cushions again, eyes closed. “I….I still love you.” And he slips into sleep.

Cuddy brushes his hair back and gently replies, “I love you too, you idiot.”

The next morning Rachel is ecstatic to have her playmate back, and House and Cuddy play normal for Rach.

The nanny arrives, and Cuddy asks if he wants to join her for coffee. He agrees.

“House about last night…”

He admits, sober, to still loving her and apologising for his behaviour.

She’s reluctant, but they agree to maybe try again.

#this is terrible ignore me #house md #gregory house #lisa cuddy #house headcanons #house md headcanons #headcanons #rachel cuddy

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hunterenough · 5 years

Text

December 4

Notes: For @notfunnydean Advent Challenge

December 4

When Sam stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, it was already after 8. There’d been no morning wake-up, and there was no coffee made. If he was honest, he was a little bummed. He’d been enjoying their new morning routine. His eyes slid to the crates. It looks like Santa was sneaky. He grinned. There was a silver package the size of a shirt box in each crate, and a note propped against the little perpetual calendar, obscuring the Christmas block. Evidently they were to start this on their own then.

“Cas? Dean left us a note today. Want to join me?”

The angel appeared by the coffee pot and seemed disappointed that it was empty. He turned toward Sam. “A note?” He didn’t mention the coffee. Sam gestured toward the crates.

“Grab it. I’ll start the coffee.”

Cas grabbed the note and rejoined Sam at the coffee pot. They opened the note while the coffee brewed.

Hey guys,

Santa’s having a sleep-in. Open your gifts and wake me at 9 for details. If you haven’t eaten, we’ll grab breakfast at the diner in town. There’d better be coffee!

Dean

P.S: Good morning! :)

Sam retrieved the packages from the crates. There was enough coffee in the pot for two cups, but neither made a move to pour. Dean hated when somebody took coffee from the pot before it was finished because ‘it made the whole rest of the pot weaker.’ Instead, they tore the paper off the gifts.

“Christmas ornaments?” Each held an identical set of twelve multicolored glass bulbs. “This could be fun.” Sam didn’t remember ever having a real Christmas tree. They’d done a Charlie Brown style tree a few times, more often when he was younger, but never an actual tree.

Cas was staring at his ornaments, head tilted.

“I’m guessing we’re gonna get a Christmas tree. Decorating could be fun. Dean did say if we wanted to give him gifts that we should put them under the tree.”

“I have never exchanged gifts. I cannot fathom what an appropriate gift would be for someone so… “ He let the sentence trail off still staring at the ornaments and appearing to be in deep thought. “My only experience with giving is receiving gifts from Dean. This…” he made a helpless gesture toward the crates. “And once Dean gave me a cassette of songs. I do not know how to choose a present that is appropriate for him.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at the mention of the cassette. Dean gave Cas a mixed tape?!

“Well, the best gifts are always the ones from the heart. Like yesterday, in general, cinnamon rolls and coffee are cool, but pretty common. But the effort that Dean put in? The research and the special shopping trip? That’s what made the meal so awesome. It really isn’t about giving a thing so much as showing someone how you feel. Do you know what I mean?” Trying to explain gifts from the heart to a divine being was… a unique experience.

“I believe I do. It is evident that Dean put great thought and care into choosing gifts for each day of his ‘advent’ calendar. And the meal was crafted specifically with our tastes in mind. I understand what the gift should convey. It is choosing the vessel to ‘show how I feel’ that I find intimidating.”

“I couldn’t agree more man. Good thing we still have most of the month. I still haven’t found anything either.”

The men slipped into silent consideration over the problem while they poured themselves coffee. Cas poured a second mug and gathered both into one hand. “It is 8:57. I will go wake Dean. I believe that he will enjoy having his coffee delivered.”

The contemplative look on Sam’s face was quickly replaced by a wicked grin. “I’m sure he would.”

~~~~~

Cas focused on keeping the coffee in the mugs as he navigated the hallway. His mind was racing with thoughts about appropriate gifts. He wanted to show Dean that he was worth at least as much effort as Dean was putting in to making their first really family Christmas. Sam’s words were also weighing heavy on him...gifts from the heart and showing someone how you feel played in a loop.

Feelings were still a funny thing for him. Angels shouldn’t feel, but angels also shouldn’t have or want to have free will. Over the course of so many years, he’d learned a lot about feelings. The Winchesters had taught him so much about the value of family, loyalty, true righteousness, trust...Dean in particular had elicited an ocean of feelings so vast that it was frequently overwhelming. Still, Cas knew that when it came to interpreting feelings from others, he had trouble “reading” social cues and body language. Dean’s own early lessons on personal space, for example, were quite clear in speech, but the hunter would often migrate toward Cas if he hadn’t initiated a close position to start. Sam had once tried to explain that often what one said was not what one actually meant. Not lying, just an unwillingness to admit to a feeling that made them feel shame. From this, Cas had inferred that while Dean might want to be close to the angel, he was ashamed of that desire. Cas sighed. He wanted to be very close to Dean, and he wasn’t ashamed of that, but revisiting that line of thought was getting him nowhere in his consideration of gifts. Another matter for later consideration then.

~~~~~

Despite having properly prepared for sleeping in, Dean had been lying awake in since 7. He had no desire to leave his comfortable bed, but he’d be getting a wake up call any moment. He was excited about today. First, they’d grab breakfast, then hit the Walmart (the nearest being about an hour away) for a tree and more decorations. By the time they were done shopping and back home, they could have sandwiches for lunch and get to decorating. Before his year with Lisa and Ben, he hadn’t had a real tree since before...well, before they were hunters.

The knock on the door was so quiet he almost missed it.

“Come in!”

“Hello Dean. I’ve brought coffee.”

“Cas, man, you’re the best. I’d say you were an angel or a blessing, but that would be a little on the nose don’t you think?” He grinned as he gestured his angel closer. The man was carrying two mugs, maybe he’d sit with him for a bit. “C’mon in and sit down, let’s just enjoy this for a minute.”

Did I just invite Cas to hang out in bed and have coffee with me? WTF?

Cas just smiled. He obviously remembered relaxing protocol because he immediately set the mugs on the dresser, shrugged out of his trench and suit coats, and kicked off his shoes. Reclaiming the coffee, he handed a mug to Dean before rounding to the other side of the bed and propping himself up against the headboard next to him.

“We never get to do this Dean. I truly enjoy being able to spend time with you outside of a hunt.” His angel seemed to snuggle down into the pillows a little more before taking a sip of his coffee.

Dean knew he should probably feel self-conscious about sitting in bed practically shoulder to shoulder with the other man, especially when he was only wearing pajama pants and no one was sick or dying, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Simply put, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“So, since you brought coffee promptly at nine, and I heard Sammy stomping around earlier, I’m guessing you got my note. What do you think?”

“Sam and I speculate that based on today’s gift of ornaments, and your prior mention of a tree, that we will engage in a Christmas tree related activity. Sam is quite excited about having a real tree.”

“Just Sam?”

“Dean, every part of celebrating this holiday is new for me. I find it very…” Cas seemed to think about his words for a moment. “I am very happy that I get to experience this with you.”

Dean really wasn’t sure what to do with that. He wanted Cas to be happy. He wanted Cas to feel like a part of their family and like he belonged here.

“We also discussed gift giving. I would very much like to get you a gift. Sam as well of course. But I am unsure how I can go about this without violating the “no flapping off” rule.” He shrugged. “I am also unsure what would constitute an appropriate gift.”

“First, you don’t have to get me anything man. You’ve dragged my sorry soul out of hell for chrissake. Year after year you’ve helped me. You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. I wouldn’t be alive without you.” Cas wants to get me a present!!

“Those things were not gifts. I have learned that those are simply what we do for family. I would say that you’ve given me as much, if not more, than I have given you in that regard Dean. You taught me to think for myself. I’ve learned to feel. I want to give you a Christmas gift so that you can share the feeling that I have when you give me a gift.”

Okay, we’re firmly in chick flick zone. I have no urge to change the subject, and my fight or flight hasn’t kicked in. We’re just going to put this down to my really comfortable mattress.

“How about this Cas. I’ll put in an exception to the sticking together rule. If you and Sammy need to go Christmas shopping, you can do that. I’d kinda appreciate it if you’d let me know before you fly away, because of some of the things I have planned, but we don’t need to be together every minute. I don’t expect you to give me a gift, but you could give me a rock and I’d be happy that you put the effort into getting me something. You capisce?”

“I capisce. Thank you Dean.”

“Now let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got a full day planned today.”

The angel seemed reluctant, but stood and moved to retrieve his outerwear. “I wish that we could do this more often Dean.”

~~~~~

Shopping for Christmas decorations was largely uneventful. Cas didn’t really have an opinion, and Sam was excited about everything. Dean settled on packing as much Christmas themed stuff into the cart as it would hold.

The tree, however, was a different matter. Sam wanted a real tree. Like the live kind.

“I know a live tree would be better Sam, but this way, we don't have to worry about burning down the bunker or something and we’ll already have the tree next year.”

Sam turned on his best puppy dog pouting face. Before Dean could cave like he usually did, Cas chimed in, “Plus, we are not killing a tree. I like this idea Dean.” Sam conceded the point. Dean might be able to be convinced on his own, but with Cas on his side, he wasn’t likely to bend.

~~~~~

Things were going exactly to plan. They’d made it back to the bunker with their holiday loot and lugged it all down the stairs. Dean hadn’t missed his opportunity to point out how much easier it was to bring the boxed tree down the stairs than it would have been with a live tree, of course, and Sam had responded only with Bitchface Number 13. Sandwiches had been eaten and more coffee brewed.

“Okay guys, let’s do this.” Dean clapped his hands together.

To be honest, this is where his plan kinda went a little hazy. None of them had any practical knowledge in tree decorating.

“Ummm, I guess we start by setting up the tree?” Sam suggested.

“Right, right. I’ll take care of that while you guys start unboxing the rest of this cr...stuff.”

The tree snapped together easily. Dean studied it. Being stuffed into the box had all of the branches kind of mushed together. He set about reorganizing the branches, aiming for the same fullness of the display tree they’d seen earlier. After he’d meticulously re-bent each twig, he stood back to assess his work. He judged it complete after a couple of tweaks and suddenly noticed the silence.

Cas and Sam had all of the tinsel, ornaments, and candy canes out of the box and ready to be added to the tree. They’d cleared the trash and settled in to… what? Watch him? Sam looked amused. Cas looked...he couldn’t really decide how Cas looked. His eyes were wide, his mouth was just slightly open, and when Dean met his glance, his tongue flicked out to wet the bow of his lower lip. He looks fucking HOT. Dean shook his head to clear it of the sudden flood of less than pure thoughts that tongue had jumpstarted.

“Right. Let’s decorate this bad boy.” Sam grabbed the tinsel, and Cas trailed after him toward the pre-lit tree. They stood on either side of the tree and passed the ropes of tinsel back and forth around the tree. After a brief discussion on the aesthetics of tinsel, they started a second round in the opposing direction. Dean helped himself to a candy cane.

I wonder if that purification blessing would work on these? He took a deep breath, whispered the spell, picked up the candy and joined the other men at the tree.

He set the boxes at the base of the tree and unwrapped a candy cane for each man. Without asking, he shoved one in first his brother’s then his angel’s mouths. Sam grunted. Cas raised an eyebrow.

That look...when the flavor registered for the angel his expression changed to one of bliss. No, THAT look. Holy fuck. Back down the rabbit hole of lust fueled images went his brain.

“I don’t remember these being this good. Must be a different brand.” Sam’s comment ripped Dean back from a particularly lewd image of licking the sweet mint flavor off Cas’s lips. He turned quickly to adjust himself under the guise of grabbing more ornaments. Get ahold of yourself man. Lusting after an angel has to be a one way ticket to hell. We’ve covered this a million times by now.

When he turned back to the tree, Cas had progressed from sucking on the cane to licking it delicately. Dean groaned. Sam laughed, a deep belly laugh, earning him a dirty look.

“Start decorating bitch.”

After that, Cas seemed to get with the program, allowing Dean to likewise regain his composure. It took less than half an hour to get all of the ornaments on the tree, then another fifteen minutes of rearranging, and the men were standing shoulder to shoulder to shoulder admiring their hard work.

“Get the lights Sam. Let’s light this thing UP!”

When the lights had flicked off, Dean plugged the tree in and silence fell over the room. Their tree really was something.

“Merry Christmas.” Dean whispered.

#spnadventcalendar2018

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crzcorgi · 6 years

Text

She Said Yes

John Winchester x Jessica

A long overdue request for the ever patient @negan--is--god

Warnings ~ NSFW

2800 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas came and went. I planned on asking Jess to marry me, but like the fuckup I am, I chickened out. I had the ring, carried it around in my pocket, never letting it out of my sight. But the time just never felt right. I wanted it to be perfect. So perfect she couldn’t say no. Because what if she did say no?

I talked to my boys, I needed them to know. I wasn’t sure how they would react, and was pleasantly surprised. Both were happy, Sammy most especially.

Finally, a perfect opportunity presented itself, in a hunt. I knew it would be a relatively easy hunt, not too far away so the boys could stay with Bobby. Jess would say she’d stay at Bobby’s, she wouldn’t be needed. But I’ll say I need more help, more info. The boys are fine with Bobby, give us a bit of a vacation. I did a bit of research beforehand of the town we were heading to, finding a nicer place to stay, a hotel, not a motel.

“But John, it seems like such a clean cut salt and burn, what kind of extra research could you possibly need me for? Sammy has an important test coming up that I was going to help him study for.” She came over to me as I was throwing the duffels into the impala’s trunk, bringing her small arms around me from behind, placing her face against my back.

I sighed, grabbing her hands, turning. “Baby, I want you with me. I don’t know why, but I just need you, not just for the research.” I was grasping for something, she had to come. I let go of her hands bringing mine up to cup her cheeks. “Don’t fight me sweetheart, please.” I studied her face to see what she was going to do next, she started to say something and I quickly brought my lips to hers. I could feel her surprise as I caught her off guard.

I deepened the kiss, not my initial intention but with Jessica, I can’t help myself. I loved my wife, Mary, with my heart and soul. But with Jess, it was different. She was different. In such a fucking wonderful way. I craved her like nothing else. I wanted her like no one before her. I needed her like I needed air, water, food.

At first, I fought off any feelings I might have had for her. I didn’t want to love anyone. I needed to focus all my energy on finding Mary’s killer. On my boys. And loving someone could be, most likely would be, dangerous. But Jess, she persisted, and I couldn’t resist. She pulled me in and I was a-ok with it.

My fingers trailed up through her soft hair, the feeling making us both moan. I let one hand fall down her back, grabbing her ass and squeezing it tightly. Her hands were fisting my jacket. I knew the effect I had on her, and she fucking knew she had me beat.

“God! Really?!” Dean’s voice causing us both to break apart but not without me slapping her butt for good measure. Turning to see Dean with a look of absolute disgust.

“What?! Don’t think your old man shouldn’t be kissing his beautiful woman?” I laughed along with Jess, who was now leaning into my side. I leaned down, giving her forehead a peck.

“No! I mean, I guess, yes. But not where people can see it!” He threw a duffel at me. Catching it, I watched him turn and storm back inside.

“Little fucker.” I mumbled placing the bag in the trunk with the others.

“He’s 16, John, he doesn’t want to think of his dad as a sexual being.” She was laughing, her head thrown back. Fucking taking my breath away.

“Yeah, well how does he think he got here?” I growled, leaning against the trunk.

“He knows John, but that isn’t something tangible, you know? You, me, being together.” She moved between my outstretched legs, her fingers lacing together behind my neck. “We’re right in his face, especially when you’ve been away.” She giggled, raising up on her toes, kissing my lips and quickly moving back. “I’ve just got to grab my bag and make sure the boys remember the usual rules, then I’ll be ready.”

I shook my head. Was it really going to be this easy? “Jess, you’re coming?”

“It’s what I just said, didn’t I?” She winked at me, patting my chest. Then she turned on her boot heel, heading back up the stairs into Bobby’s. She was gonna be the fucking death of me.

I closed my eyes, thanking my lucky stars she agreed to go. I hear her step back onto the porch, yelling out, “boys, get out here and say goodbye to your dad.”

I can’t help the smile from forming on my face. I never thought I’d see another woman mothering my boys, much less want another woman becoming a mom to them. But here she is, doing just that. And I couldn’t be happier.

Both boys dragged themselves down the steps, Jess bringing up the rear, making faces at the back of their heads and cracking me the fuck up.

Dean swung around to look at Jess.

“Keep moving De, don’t give me the bitch face, go give your dad a hug goodbye.”

“I know you were mocking me, Jessica. And you’re bossy!” He turned back, sighing.

Sam was laughing with me, giving me a quick hug.

“Can we go to the movies tomorrow night? A bunch of kids invited us to see the new DC film.” Sam asked me, but turned towards Jess for the answer.

“I left some cash with Bobby.” She put her arm on his shoulder. “As long as we don’t hear from Bobby.” She turned towards Dean “And Dean promises to not leave his brother behind because some girl gives him doe eyes.”

“He promises, right Dean?!” Sammy begged his brother, giving him his patented puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

I laughed, patting Dean on the back. “Alright boys, I’m sure Jess ran down the rules with you. We shouldn’t be long, we’ll call you when we get there.” I placed an arm around both boys, pulling them close to me. “Jesus, you boys are getting to big.” I laughed, placing a quick kiss to the tops of their heads. Fuck, I love these boys.

They both moved away from me, Jessica opening her arms to hug them. She grabbed them both, her face going between their heads, kissing each one’s cheeks.

“You take care my sweets, listen to Bobby.” She stepped back, coming to stand beside me. We both waved to Bobby, who had stepped out onto the porch.

I opened the car door for Jess, making sure she was set and then closing it. Walking around to the driver’s side, I nodded to the boys, climbing in and starting her up. As we drove away from Bobby’s, I looked over at her. She took my breath away, every day. She was gorgeous, smart, funny, and such a badass, she could easily put anyone in their place, me included. I reached over, taking her hand in mine, her face turning to mine, her beautiful smile lighting up her face. My own face mimicking hers.

“Why the big smile, John?” She began rubbing my fingers with her own.

“I’m in my car, listening to my fav music. And beside me is my best girl. What more could I want?”

She giggled, turning a bit in her seat. “Well, usually you’re in your zone on the way to a hunt. You kinda space out a bit on me. I’m not used to the big smile.”

“Want me to frown baby girl?” I turned quickly, putting on the fakest fucking smile I could muster.

She slapped my arm. “Eyes on the road mister! And no, I love your smile, just wondering what’s up, that’s all.”

I sighed. I knew her life hadn’t been easy. Bad times, bad things, filled her lifetime. When someone smiled in her life, it didn’t always mean something positive. I’d like to think the boys and I have changed her life for the better. But still…

“Sweetheart, I promise, everything’s good, nothing bad is going to happen. Promise.”

“I love you, John, I trust you.” She squeezed my hand, pulling it up to her lips, lightly kissing my knuckles.

This, this is what I live for.

When we arrived at the hotel, I stepped out, walking around the car to open Jessica’s door.

“John? Uh, we can’t afford this place? It’s like a 3 star joint at the least. I’m sure there’s a 1 star place further up the road.” She stayed seated, ducking down to look through the windshield at the building.

“This is it darling, I made reservations already. It’s all paid for.” I crouched down to her level, placing my hand on her thigh, rubbing. “Thought you deserved a nicer place to stay. Wanna treat my girl.”

She turned towards me. “We can afford this, John?” She placed her hand on mine.

“Maybe we can’t. But Mr. Howard Blaise and his wife, GiGi can.” I winked.

“John! Gigi? Hmm, sounds like I’m a stripper turned trophy wife.”

“Well, you are younger than me, definitely out of my class. And you never told me what your first job was so…” I tried to move away quickly, but she was too quick, tackling me to the blacktop.

“My first job was newspaper delivery. The only dancing I’ve done was in my first grade play.” She was now straddling me. And I was enjoying it a bit too much. I thrusted my hips upward in a quick jerking motion. “Oh my god! John!”

I heard a tongue click, turning my head to see two older women stopped, giving us a look of disapproval. “Hey ladies, she just couldn’t wait until we checked into the honeymoon suite. I just have that effect on her.” I winked, giving them the smile that Jess says always makes her weak in the knees.

They smiled, nodding to each other and walked off. Jess stood up but not before hitting me square in the chest.

“Ow! Spousal abuse darling!” I laughed, standing up to join her.

“Newsflash asshole, we’re not married!” She was fixing her shirt, turning to head towards the trunk. “Let’s just get checked in.”

I walked over to her, my arms wrapping around her, tightening when she attempted to shrug them off. “I’m sorry sweetheart” I whispered in her ear. “I didn’t want to upset you, honest.”

She turned around, still in my arms. “I know, I’m sorry I got mad.” She smiled, her hand coming up to stroke my cheek.

After we got checked in and found our room, Jess set up the desk with lore books and her multiple notebooks. I couldn’t stop pacing, this was it, I was going to ask Jessica to marry me. Marry me. What would she say? Yes, she would say yes. Positive fucking thinking.

“Sit still John! Why are so wired?”

“Just wanna get moving, you know how I am.” My hand moved to my pocket, feeling for that ever present box. Still there.

“Okay, well, this is what I have so far…”

My feet, my body, my mind took over. I found myself in front of Jess, dropping to one knee. She didn’t notice me at first, her fingers deftly flipping through a book. She sighed, sitting upright and turning to no doubt tell me something she had found. Her eyes going wide when she saw me, holding out the open, well worn, ring box.

“John?”

“Jessica, we’ve been together how many years now? And you haven’t murdered me yet. You’ve stayed through it all, my rants, my anger outbursts. The times I tried to push you away, telling you that this was dangerous, being with me was a death sentence.” I placed my free hand on her hand that was now resting on her knee. “But you stayed, you fucking stayed. And made me fall madly in love with you. My boys too.” I felt her soft hand touching my cheek, making me realize I was crying. Shit.

“John, I can’t imagine being anywhere, with anyone, else. You, Dean and Sammy are my home. So if you are asking what I assume you are, then the answer is a big fat fucking yes!”

She threw herself into me, both of us tumbling backwards onto the floor. I rolled her over into her side, pulling her into me, my face burrowing into her fragrant hair. “Baby girl, I never thought it possible to be this happy, to feel this at peace.” I took her chin in my hand, gently tilting her face to look up at me. “Yes, the hunt is not over, might not be for a long time.” I brought my thumb up to stroke her velvety soft cheek. “But the desperate want, need, to find that demon, it’s not ever present anymore. Because of you.”

Our lips met of their own accord, becoming heated quickly. My hands moving down to lift her shirt up, hers finding my growing bulge. Scrambling To stand up, we quickly shedding our clothing.

“Let’s take this to the bed, I’m too old for the floor sweetheart.” I laughed, picking up her now bare body.

“John, you are so not old!” She slapped my back and I squeezed her ass. “JOHN!” She squealed as I gently threw her into the bed. She scrambled up to the head as I crawled my way up to her. She giggled, giving me her come hither look.

Suddenly, she pulled her knees up to her chest, one arm coming up to cover her breasts. She placed her hand up into a stop position. “Wait a minute! We’re not married yet, should we be doing this?”

For a quick minute I hesitated as if I was going to be besmirching her reputation. “Wait, what?” Then I came to my senses. “Jessica…” I drew her name out in a scolding tone. “Since when have we cared that we weren’t married? How many times have I had my way with you? Want me to count?”

She had both arms wrapped tightly around her legs, hugging them to her breast. A smile, a smirk, was pulling at her lips. “I don’t know, I mean, we’re engaged now, maybe I need to be a good girl. Don’t want to give the boys the wrong impression.”

I started laughing, the full on whole body laugh. “Jesus, sweetheart, I think the boys know what we’ve been doing. You are fucking adorable!” I swung my legs off of the bed. “Come ‘ere.” I patted beside me.

Still giggling, she crawled over to me, snuggling into my side. “Baby?”

“Hmmm?”

“As much as I love this, we’re naked and I’m horny as fuck.”

She laughed, quickly straddling me, her hand guiding my more than ready cock into her wet heat. Slowly, she lowered herself, her hands grasping onto my shoulders for leverage.

“How’s that feel John?” She whispered seductively into my ear, sending chills up and down my spine.

“Fuck Jess!” I could speak, much less think. Feeling the pleasure with all of my senses. She began moving faster, adding in side to side movements, trying to hit her perfect spot. I brought my hands around, finding her breasts and delicately circling each hardening nipple. I knew how she needed me to be gentle in my touches, she couldn’t stand quick fast and hard movements, causing her to be overstimulated.

“Ohhh, John, yesss!!!” I loved watching her face, her expressions telling exactly where she was. She was getting close, so I snaked one hand down to her clit, using a featherlight touch, a soft rub. I felt her beginning the telltale shivers that filled her body each time she reached her end.

“I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.” I growled into her ear, placing gently kisses down her neck, licking the salty beads of sweat off her honey sweet skin. She grasped both my arms, my signal to stop any ministrations, my arms pulling her closer to my body. She came with a shudder and shake, my name rolling so beautifully off her plush lips.

I came right after, my hot cum shooting into her twitching heat. Her contractions squeezing every last drop out of me. Still inside her, I slid back up onto the bed, laying down with her on top of me, cocooned within my arms. As I slowly slipped out of her, we both opened our eyes.

“I love you Mr. Winchester.” Her lips finding mine in a sweet kiss.

“And I love you, Mrs. Winchester.”

#john winchester #john winchester x jessica #negan --is--god #john winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan #crzcorgi writes

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 6 years

Text

Over the Hills and Far Away

Dean x Reader

A/N: The Halloween Party was written for a recent challenge, but also serves as a starting point for my first Dean Winchester series. Each chapter about Dean x Reader is based on a song that could be on his playlist. In this chapter is a request prompt from @kazosa Prompt 17 – “Hold me. Just for a bit, okay? I just… I need someone to hold me.”

Warnings: Language, Violence, Character Death

Words: 4436 (with song lyrics)

Song: Over the Hills and Far Away by Led Zeppelin

Your feet could only go so fast. The monster was gaining on you, but you were determined to make it and even more motivated by the fact that you were going to put a bullet right through its eyes. You just had to get to the bullets.

Finding a shortcut, you were able to reach the parking lot where your car was waiting, as were the silver bullets. Scrambling to get the trunk open, you threw aside the duffel bag and reached down into the small box beneath it.

Grabbing the last three bullets, you pulled the gun from the back of your jeans and quickly, yet efficiently loaded the rounds into the chamber. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you aimed the gun at the path where you came out of the woods and waited.

Rustling leaves in the distance was all you needed to put your finger on the trigger, fully prepared to shoot whatever came out of the tree line. Your hand was steady, your head was clear. So, when the person following you emerged from the thicket, you were a hair away from pulling the trigger, if not for the bright red shoes that were a signature element in Harley’s wardrobe.

“Dude? What the hell?” she froze at the sight of you with the gun. “Put that down, would ya? Geez.” Harley shook her head at you as you took the gun off of her face.

“I thought you were it,” you apologized, “I didn’t expect it to be you, dummy. Where the hell did it go?”

“I don’t know, I was hot on its heels as it chased you, then it broke off in a different direction. Had my sights on it for a minute, but, then nothing,” Harley shrugged as she holstered her own weapon.

Shaking it off, you turned back to the trunk and closed it without throwing your gun in.

“What now?” Harley asked, “it’s close to dawn. This thing is gone for now, so…” she raised her hands questioningly waiting for you to make the call.

“Fine, let’s head out and try to pick up its trail in a bit.”

You and Harley climbed into your Chevelle and started the engine. The music was blaring Journey’s Anyway You Want It and Harley winced, immediately reaching for the knob and turning it down. Throwing her a dirty look, you went to smack her hand away from the radio, but she moved it just in time.

“Don’t touch,” you scolded and turned the music back up. Harley rolled her eyes and you just decided to ignore her until you got back to the motel.

Pulling into the parking lot, something caught your eye in the windows of your room. Two figures were silhouetted against the drawn curtains moving about your room. Harley sat up and took notice as well, passing you a worried glance.

“Whatcha wanna do cousin?” she asked with a raised brow. “Cause those people are either monsters or legit cops, and no matter how it shakes out, it ain’t good for us.”

Trying to come up with a plan, you pulled out your cell phone and scrolled through your contacts. Pressing the call button, you waited for three rings until the voice on the other end of the line greeted you.

“Yeah?” Dean said gruffly, his voice thick with sleep, “what?”

“Hey grumpy pants, you busy?” You tried keeping your tone light and playful, but even you could hear the tinge of panic in your words.

Dean grunted on the other end of the phone as he sat up in bed, “Y/N?”

“Mmhmm, sorry I woke ya sugar, but if you aren’t busy, we could use a bit of help.”

An hour later you were turning off into a secluded rest area off Highway 19. The sun was just starting to rise as you parked your car a few spots away from the sleek black Impala. Dean was out and leaning against the driver’s side door as you killed the ignition and got out.

“So, you can’t call me back for weeks, but the second your ass gets caught by something, I’m the first guy you reach out too?” Dean asked accusingly, but the smile he wore betrayed his true feelings about seeing you again.

“I know, it’s been a while, I’m sorry,” you apologized as you approached him.

Snorting a laugh, Dean moved off the car and pulled you in for a hug. You hadn’t seen him since the night you met months earlier at Harley’s disastrous Halloween party. Dean had called you a few times after that, and you initiated a few texts, but to see him and feel his arms around you again after all that time, affected you much more than you thought it would.

“You’re forgiven,” he said upon releasing you, “so, tell me about this trouble you got yourself into.”

Dean looked past you into the car where Harley was fast asleep in the back seat. “She alright?”

“Yeah, she’s just sleeping. Apparently staying up all night to chase one shifter wore her out,” you rolled your eyes and shrugged.

“A shifter? Seriously? That’s the third one in the last two weeks. Sam and I just got back from taking one out in Tulsa.”

“Dirty fuckers,” you groaned, “I hate them. We caught the trail of one about a hundred miles south of here and lost it. We were heading back to our room to regroup and whatever, but saw people in the suite.”

“People?” Dean smirked, “just random or…”

“If I knew that smart ass, I wouldn’t need your help,” you smacked his chest playfully. “We just saw the silhouettes of two people in our room. We didn’t try to go in figuring it was either a monster or a cop. Didn’t want to deal with either to be honest. So, I called you.”

“’Cause I was the closest hunter to your location?”

“No, because you’re the best hunter I know of, and I want the job done right. And…” you paused, trying to decide if you wanted to start down this road at all, “…but also because I wanted to see you.”

“You did, huh?” Dean couldn’t hide the boastful smile, and you were glad.

The way he smiled at you aroused a lot of feelings that you were happy to have stirring again. Living the life of a hunter wasn’t exactly cause for many warm and fun moments, so when something brought on that release of endorphins and butterflies, you chased it down whenever you could. Dean was starting to be that release for you.

“Yeah, Winchester, that so hard to believe?” even in the face of a hunt, you couldn’t help but flirt with him.

“Let’s take care of this shifter, and then we’ll talk about just how much you missed me,” Dean winked playfully and started walking towards your car. “Hey,” he said knocking on the back-door window, “Harley… wake up!”

Harley sat up with a start and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as you rolled your eyes and groaned. “Why did you go and do that? Now I gotta listen to her bitch.”

“No, you don’t. She’s driving this,” he said pointing to your car, “and you’re riding me.” He looked back to you, and seemed taken back by your expression until he realized what he’d said, “WITH me… riding WITH me…” Dean flushed red as he wrinkled his face in embarrassment, “you know to catch me up on the case.”

“Mmhm, sure, Dean. Whatever you say. But, there is no way in hell that lunatic cousin of mine is driving this car. She’s gonna have to ride with you and fill you in, unless,” you looked past him at the Impala and when he caught your intended meaning he looked horrified.

“No,” Dean waved his hands, “No one drives my Baby except me or Sam, and even then, he gets the lecture.”

Harley pushed open the back door of your Chevelle and slowly stumbled out rubbing her eyes, “What the hell?”

“Get in Dean’s car and fill him in while we head back towards Bridgewater. He’s gonna help us with the shifter.”

Harley looked around, confused from still being half asleep and saw Dean standing near you. “Oh, hey,” she looked past him towards his car, “Where’s Sam?”

“Sam’s working on something back home. C’mon sleepy,” Dean motioned towards his car as Harley shuffled around to the passenger side, “time to rise and shine and tell me about this slimy son of a bitch that got away.”

Once she was in the front seat, Dean turned back to you, his face serious. “Try to keep up, alright?”

You nodded mockingly until he got in and closed the door.

“Oh, Dean, you really are adorable,” you smirked as you made your way around to the driver’s side of your ride. Turning the key over, the engine roared to life, and you caught Dean’s shocked expression just before maneuvering the car out of the space and whipping it back onto the highway.

Sitting in the diner, Dean still had a scowl on his face as he stared out the window at the two classic cars parked side by side. He’d been grumbling about pulling in several minutes after you as if it was a direct result of either his driving abilities or in the performance of his car.

“Dean… seriously? Deal with it,” you shook your head and sipped at your own cup of coffee.

“A damn Chevelle. I mean, it ain’t right,” he shook his head, his mouth firmly set in a pout that made him look like a little boy.

The waitress dropped the food at the table finally distracting his eyes away from the parking lot with the double cheeseburger and fries he’d ordered.

You watched as he devoured half the burger in only a few bites and shook your head in disbelief.

“So,” you started pulling your plate towards you, “Harley filled you in?”

“Mmhmm,” Dean grunted as he swiped at the ketchup on his face.

“Ok, good. Any ideas on where to start looking?”

“Sewers is always a solid start; those creepy ass things like to slum it down in the trenches. I say start there,” Dean said after swallowing a hunk of the burger. He turned to look at Harley who was sat beside you as she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Sewers? Gross,” she said and used her fork to pick at her food. “If you think I am going down into some nasty slimy tunnels…”

“Harley, please. Just stop. You can stay in the car. I will go down into the sewers, princess.”

Dean snorted a laugh but went back to his burger after a chastising look from you. “There is a central hub not too far from here, but its guarded well during the day. At night, we could probably hop the fence.”

“Alright, well… let’s head over and scope the place out. Might not be what we’re looking for. But chances are, that’s where it is.”

“Before we go all Nancy Drew here, any chance a girl could get a few hours sleep? And what about all our stuff back in the room? We ever going back there to retrieve it?”

“She’s right,” Dean chimed in, “Let’s start back at the room because even if they were cops chances are, they weren’t really cops.”

“Fine,” you sighed and took a bite of your food, “a hot shower sounds good to me, and maybe a couple hours of sleep.”

“While you two do that, I’ll check out the hub. But first, let’s make sure your room is clear.”

Pulling back into the parking lot of the hotel, Dean following closely behind you. As you all piled out of the cars and walked across the lot, Harley hung back close to the Chevelle.

“I’ll be right with ya,” she called out to you as Dean approached the motel door.

You put the key in the lock, but Dean silently told you to wait a moment. He drew his 9mm from his inside coat pocket, then gave you the nod to go ahead. Turning the key as quietly as possible, you turned the handle and pushed the door in.

The room looked more lived in than it did when you and Harley had left it last. Both beds were unmade, papers from the case scattered about. You passed a look to Dean who skirted around the beds and towards the bathroom.

Beyond the closed bathroom door, the sound of the shower starting caused you to freeze. A voice floated through the cracks, humming a tune that was familiar. Catching each other’s eye at the same time, you and Dean both shrugged, unsure of what to do.

He crossed the room to get closer to you before asking, “Are you sure this is the right room?”

You motioned for him to look around, as files and newspaper clippings were spread all over the bed. “Really?!”

He shrugged was about to say something, when the front door started to open. Dean raised his weapon as you withdrew yours from the back band of your jeans but quickly lowered it when Harley crossed the threshold.

“What’s going—”

“Shhh!” you cut her off and motioned towards the bathroom. She heard the voice, which was now singing, and gently closed the door.

You and Dean took a few tentative steps towards the bathroom again. Just as he was about to turn the handle, the click of a gun was loud in your ear and the cold steel of the barrel was pressed against your head.

Confused, you went to turn, but Harley’s voice told you to stop.

“Don’t move, or I will kill you first… hunter,” the thing posing as Harley said, nearly spitting the last word at you.

“Goddammit,” you moaned, instantly angry with yourself that you didn’t see the imposter until now.

The bathroom door opened, and your clone emerged fully dressed and also holding a weapon.

“When did it stop being Harley?” you asked the shifter behind you, but couldn’t take your eyes off the one that had cloned you.

“Since the woods. I mean, you were really distracted, and this was so much easier than I thought! But then… then you went and called Winchester, so I knew we had to have a little fun.” It winked at its partner and they both cackled.

“Three hunters in one sweep, not a bad day sister,” your shifter twin added before waving the gun at you and Dean to back up. “Besides, your timing was perfect. We just finished disposing of your cousin, so now we can deal with you, finish cleaning and get the hell out of the shit town.”

Your heart broke instantly. You didn’t want to believe a word out of their mouths, but the chances are the real Harley was either stashed away somewhere or already dead as they claimed.

“Where is she?” you asked with the slightest hitch in your voice.

“She’s gone, and this suit of hers I am wearing will be down the drain in moments as well,” the shifter promised and winked at you.

“How considerate of you to clean up your vile mess for once,” Dean barked, looking between the two shifters. His gun was lowered, but his finger was not removed from the trigger.

Your shifter twin went to take the gun from his hand, but before she could, Dean brought the barrel up fast and hard into her face, causing her to reel backward. His reflexes were faster than you imagined them to be. He yelled for you to duck, and the second you did, a silver bullet exploded from Dean’s gun, landing in its shoulder.

The sound of the gun brought your attention back to the problem at hand and off of Harley’s fate. You saw the shifter Dean hit start to get up from his blow. You raised your own gun again, firing and hitting her square between the eyes.

Only seconds had passed since the two-gun shots echoed around the room. Yours and Deans instincts kicked into high gear and you went about gathering as much as your personal stuff and files as you could.

“Ready?” Dean called anxiously from the front door as he peered out into the parking lot. “We got maybe another minute before someone’s coming to check.”

“Here,” you said, tossing a duffle bag to him. Scooping up the rest of your belongings, you nodded for him to open the door.

Dashing into the parking lot, you hastily threw the stuff in the back seat and went to jump in the Chevelle.

“Hey! Y/N!” he yelled, “Follow me, alright?”

You nodded and before you could truly register everything that happened, you and Dean were peeling out of the lot and headed into parts unknown.

You didn’t know how long you’d been driving, but just when you didn’t think you could go any further, Dean pulled off the road and down into an underground garage. Once you directed your Chevelle into the empty space next to Dean, you killed the engine but stayed in the car.

Resting your head on the steering wheel, you waited for tears, but nothing came. Dean approached the window cautiously, twirling the Impala’s keys restlessly in his hand. He crouched down by the window and waited patiently for you to look up.

Picking up your head, you looked out the open window and caught his bright green eyes fixed on you.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

“It’s the life, right?”

“Not what I asked.”

You sighed and sat back in the seat. He moved from the car when you popped the door open and climbed out. Dean was standing against the Impala, a look of understanding worn across his face.

Barreling into him, you brought your arms up around his neck, taking him by surprise. Dean didn’t hesitate though and embraced you tightly around your waist.

“We can go back and look for her,” he said, not leaving taking his arms away from you.

“No, she’s gone, Dean. I can feel it.”

He nodded in understanding and gently pulled back from the hug.

“You should, uh, probably stay here for a spell. At least until we know what’s happening at the motel and if those two shifters are now going to pose as DOA dummies for you and Harley.”

The mention of her name was still a very fresh wound and you noticed Dean flinch upon that realization.

“I’m sorry, I’m an ass,” he said, trying to play it off with a cheeky smile.

“I know you are Dean, but I like you anyway,” your voice was sweet but thick with exhaustion.

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s get you settled in.”

Dean gave you the room next to his and after a hot shower and an even hotter cup of tea provided by Sam, you sat on the edge of the bed and closed your eyes.

Losing Harley was harder than you thought, but knowing two fewer shifters were in the world made it a little easier. Harley had been more than family; she’d been your best friend since you were five. Growing up in the life had been full of turbulence, but you had navigated it together.

Now, it was just you and you had no idea what came next.

A soft knock at your door made you sit up tall and smooth out the clothes that Dean offered you. They were his and were far too big, but it was better than wearing the blood-soaked clothes you arrived in.

“Come in,” you called and a second later the door opened to Dean carrying a tray of food.

“I made you a few things, wasn’t sure what you liked or wanted really.”

“Thanks, that was sweet.”

“Sure,” Dean was nervous and despite the circumstances, thought it was cute. “You rest, we can figure stuff out in the morning.”

“Actually, Dean…” you got up off the bed and cautiously wrapped your hand around his, “could you stay? I don’t know, tonight… tonight I just need someone to hold me. Just for a bit, okay? I just… I need someone to hold me.”

Without a word, Dean put the tray down on the desk near the door. Leading you by the hand to the bed, he waited until you laid down before sitting on the edge. He unlaced his boots and kicked them off towards the corner.

Laying back against the pillows, Dean moved his arm so you could settle into the crook of his shoulder. His arm immediately wrapped around your shoulder, while gently caressing the skin on your arm with his thumb.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he said unable to hide the hopefulness in his voice. “There’s plenty of room, and I can guarantee you the best continental breakfast in all of the mid-west. Whatcha say?” he asked trying to make you smile.

“I say…” you paused, really thinking about his offer. Staying in the bunker was probably going to be best for your sanity, but the idea of hitting the open road sounded blissful and necessary. You knew that there was too large of a pause, and tried to recoup.

“I say, thank you, I will take you up on that offer. As long as Sam is good with it.”

“Sam doesn’t have a say, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Dean, I just don’t want to make more trouble…”

Sitting up on one elbow, Dean looked down at you as he gently brushed a stray hair from your cheek.

“You couldn’t make any more trouble than Sam and I already make ourselves… Besides, you have any idea how cool it would be to have someone else around that likes to listen to loud music?”

His smile lit up the room, and for just a second, you felt ok. Reaching back towards the small table, you grabbed your phone and went to YouTube. You found the track you were looking for, and when you hit play, Dean’s smile grew wide, causing the little wrinkles at the corner of his eye to deepen.

Burying yourself back into him, you closed your eyes again and let the music play. Over the Hills and Far Away played through the tiny cell phone speaker, but it was enough for you and Dean. He wrapped an arm across your abdomen, causing a flash of heat barely a few inches below from where his hand rested.

Hey lady, you got the love I need Maybe more than enough Oh darling, darling, darling Walk a while with me Ohh, you've got so much, so much, so much

For the first time since you knew Dean, he genuinely looked nervous. You could sense he wanted to kiss you, but given the fact that you were grieving, he looked unsure of what to do. A little smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, as you reached up and pressed your lips to his as a way of letting him know he could.

Many have I loved, and many times been bitten Many times I've gazed along the open road

Many times I've lied, and many times I've listened Many times I've wondered how much there is to know

“You, uh, you alright—”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me already,” again you reached up and grabbed the eldest Winchester by the scruff of his neck. Dean’s kiss was soft and wanting as his fingers absently ran along the top of your pants. With each beat of the song, he pressed his lips against you trying to kiss you deeper, while your hands lightly caressed the skin bared at the small of his back

Many dreams come true And some have silver linings

I live for my dream And a pocket full of gold

As the music began to swell, you could feel Dean’s weight shift as he rolled on top of you. He ran his fingers along the side of your body until he gently took your hands and brought them to rest gently above your head, pinning them down with one of his. He kissed you harder, unable to hide how badly he wanted more, and you could feel your body responding to his.

Mellow is the man who knows what he's been missing Many, many men can't see the open road

Dean trailed desperate kisses down the length of your chin, to your neck. Turning your head to give him more of yourself, you caught the glimpse of the phone on the table that was playing the song. It had returned to your background again where a picture of you and Harley from the day before the fated Halloween party taunted you.

You didn’t want to think about it anymore. You wanted to lose yourself in Dean and forget about what it meant to be a hunter and live that life. Closing your eyes, you let him continue to use his mouth along every inch of your neck and chest.

Dean’s hand tugged at the top of your pants, and you wanted nothing more than for him to rip them down, but you knew at that moment, it wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t.

“Dean,” you ran your hands down his back and tried to gently nudge his face back up to yours. “Dean wait… please.”

Lifting his head from your neck, his uncertain expression caused you to feel guilty. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him, just the opposite in fact. But you didn’t want him to just be a vehicle to take the grief away. Dean was more than that, or at least you thought he had the potential to be.

“I want you, I do. So much, but I just—”

Leaning back only slightly, the way he looked at you made a swarm of butterflies flood your chest.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I get it. You don’t have to say anything else.”

Dean settled back down on the bed so he was spooning you, his embrace tight and welcoming.

“I think I may take you up on the offer to stay a while,” you said, closing your eyes at the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

“That’s good, you shouldn’t be alone now. Staying here with me and Sam, that’s just a smart choice.”

“Alright, easy boy. I already said I was going to stay,” you chuckled but behind it was a feeling of relief knowing that you wouldn’t have to grieve Harley alone. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay with me in here tonight? The idea of being alone…”

“I’m not going anywhere Y/N. Besides, Zeppelin’s on the radio and this mattress is way better than mine.”

Smiling to yourself, you closed your eyes and did your best to push your grief over losing your cousin away enough to sleep while wrapped in Dean’s arms.

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