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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Jim and Jody - Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary; it was one of the biggest decisions of your life, but will you change your mind before your future is sealed?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abortion (everyone is permitted to do what they want with their body, in this imagine the reader wants to keep the baby, but pro choice, as everyone deserves control over their bodies and all 🤍), brief mention of sex and threats

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To see him so relaxed, so completely and utterly himself was a paradise all on its own. There was a heaviness aboard your shoulders, but as you watched him goof tirelessly about, you had no other concerns, not even as you subconsciously raised your hand over your stomach. You shook your head at the sentiment, the two of you had already made the decision to abort this child, it was unknown how the poor fellow would turn out to be; with the combination of your powers and his super everything, it was sure to be quite the complication, and not one that you supposed was to be an easy course.

A smile pried at your face, simply from viewing him with the pack of children, the wind from the docks swept your hair into your face, and in turn, you swept the locks out and away from your vision, so that you had further access to watch the man that you loved in his absolute element. Through the years, past and recent, he had lost so much, and this child was just to be another mantle on the wall of memorial in his mind, it was sad really. If the two of you were normal, with average and lives that had perceptions with no regards of being heroic, there’d be no query about it, you’d keep the baby.

That life though, to your grave misfortune, did not exist, it was merely a fantasy living painfully inside of your mind, haunting you whenever you closed your eyes, with the flashing images of a resolution and end to the errors in your lifestyle. There’d be a big house, yet nothing to prissy, just enough room for the pair of you and few children of your own, a grand garden with a swing set and sand pit, where the infants could grow up and play in once they were older. Then there’d also be a shed for Bucky to work on small projects, such as attaining some love and care to his motor bike, as well as storing the supplies that he’d need to do so.

All that is a universe away, muffled from possibility by the stars expediting through the gorgeous veil of the galaxy, corrupting the possibilities of ever gaining access to such... peace. That was the one thing that the pair of you wanted, however catching a break was rather rare within your predicament. A stifled laugh reeled from the conjunction of your lips as you simply and endearingly surveyed how the boys, specifically Sam’s nephews hung from the vibranium branch of his arm. It was all your attention was focused on, until an extra person took a seat on the picnic table beside you, his sweet yet musky scent detailing whom it was. “If your not going to eat that, I’m sure Barnes Junior might want an opinion on that.”

The underlining of the words caused an abstract grimace to forlorn your features, as you stared not at the speaker of whom you were close with, but instead the slather of cake that was planted on a paper plate before you, the icing beginning to become slightly sick from the beating of the viable son. “You’re glowing, you know? Motherhood is a good look on you y/n/n, I wouldn’t be so soon to let that go.” Your fingers pried at the dismantled crumbs off your section of desert as you looked to your new captain, a resonating conformation fo bridled suffering and hopelessness clouding your view of his attempt at making you atone before you made a sin that you’d forever regret.

He, like many others, knew that the family life was what you wanted; you wanted to be your child’s hero, tending to their each necessary (and unnecessary) need, them being your main focus and project and life. Instead, you had been handed your options on a short stick, and thus, your decision, albeit somewhat of a sensible one, didn’t make it hurt any less. “Sam.” You spoke his name, observing from the corner of your eye how Bucky paraded around the dock with Jim and Jody. It’d be nice to give him a slice of this kinda life, he was thriving as an adult around children, you could only imagine him in the case of this one being birthed into the world. “It’s not that easy.”

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Sam responded quickly, affirming your fears to your nerve wrecked face. “I get it, I do. People will be after this kid, and that is no way to live, but you two aren’t alone in any of this, nor will you be in that. You have me, along with many other old friends of ours, hell even the Wakandan’s. Do you really want to sacrifice this one life so you can continue living this one? You and Bucky have both lost so much, you don’t have to force yourself to willingly give away something else. The decision can be changed the last minute, it’s a lot to take in, I get that, but I see the way Buck is with my nephews, and how you watch them when you think nobody’s looking over at you. With your state pardon, you two can retire, and go far away, and abandon everything for this one little guy or gal, because I know that if you do, no matter what, they’ll be worth it.”

Bucky wailed a warrior’s shout as Jim and Jody playfully struck him down, his unsheathed metal hand grasping at the cloth that was tightly aboard his addictive chest. He rolled on the ground as the children ran to retrieve their toy lightsabers, leaving him to be expendable against their weapons. There was a giddy and fitting smile smouldering his usual stoic expression. It was no wander why he found calm in visiting Sam and his sister’s small, and accepting family. The kids brought out another side of him, which he had been tortured to refrain from showing, but you had seen, and were contemplating many things within your mind. You were lapping up the image, as though you were dehydrated and the sight of him appeased by the company of young ones was a source of water.

Sam was right, he always was and had been. “The decision was on both of our parts, you don’t think Buck’ll change his mind, or do you?” You were invested in getting a responsive answer, yet the man spluttered a laugh at your confused expense. He heaved for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. There was nothing stopping him from gaining it back, unlike Bucky whom had grabbed a saber of his own and lightly began to paddle against the one that was directed against him, other than another round of hysterics that abandoned him. A reasonable smile resonated a comfortable position upon the former falcon’s face, as he tentatively patted your knee, watching as you broke off a small rupture of cake and popped it in your mouth, feeding not only yourself but the inmate within your womb.

“There isn’t really much for me to say, it’s easy, look at him. He will be fine with whatever decision that the pair of you succumb to, after all, it’s your body, but it will pain him like nothing else ever has if you go through with the abortion, and if not, then trust me, we’ve both seen how hard he fights; think of that but ten times the mass in consideration of this baby, because I am certain that he’d do anything for them. He lost his entire family when he awoke from his mode of hydra assassin, this could be him getting it back. Different members, but a family all the same.” He stole a little of your cake, making you lightly elbow him as a smirk rendered a beauty upon his face.

“What’s that going to make you, the patriotic uncle who just can’t keep himself from flashing his shield?” Now it was his turn to retaliate, he lightly scuffed your ankle with a feather light tap of the toe of his shoe, causing you to promiscuously roll your eyes. “I’m joking, that was Steve’s aesthetic, this new version of cap is your baby, I have great faith in you to make this world a better and safer place. The funny thing is, when you finally accepted that shield was yours, that’s when my mind shifted to the possibility of keeping this kid. It was and has always been a sign of hope and protection to Bucky, maybe it could be the same for our little one. It was just a thought, I’m not meaning to put pressure on your or anything bu-“

“I get it, and I’m honoured. And if that is how it seems, then I want you to know that I’ll be there to protect them too. The main bump in the road for now is for you to talk to that grumpy ass boyfriend of yours and figure this sperm plus egg equation out, send Jim and Jody over here, I got somethin’ to show those two anyway.” With a nod and a grateful pat upon your friend’s head, you slowly plodded over to where Bucky was being cornered against the side of the truck by the boys. His blue orbs danced around their small and imaginative beings, until they landed on you, it was as though his pupils were calling out for help, begging for you to spare some mercy upon him.

“Jim, Jody, your uncle Sammy has something for you two to see.” They groaned lightly, having been pulled away from the narrative of their play time, but nevertheless their faces were clean slates as they expressed hyper smiles, and bolted their route towards their mother’s sibling, carrying their lightsaber replicas along with them. “Two kids beat an infamous, deadly badass with a metal arm. I think you might be getting too old for these kinda battles Buck, you were losing, and quite terribly if I say so myself.” Crossing your arms, as he came to an upright stand, hoisting himself off the ground, so that he could be more level with you.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Thought you were supposed to be supportive of me and all that, as you said to Zemo, you’d quite happily cut his dick off if he compared me to the shadow that I used to be.” His brow raised, as he reminisced on the thought of you threatening Zemo; it was hot, and certainly had gotten him going, which had shortly left you in this predicament, trying to save the world and execute the one last thing that exhumed hope to either one of you. The baby. It was almost a certain and solid fact that the little one inside of you had been procreated on the Baron’s private jet, more specifically, the small and clean bathroom that had became dirty with your primal sins.

“And I still regret not doing that, he’d have had much less leverage in any sense of the word of phallic if he had it sectioned off.” Silence emitted between the two of you, although a humoured smirk tantalised upon Bucky’s graceful face. For a change, he was not prompting the expression of a grumpy cat that was refused its nip, no, instead he could be compared to a future - actually, he already was a father to the bean held in the shield of your body, having been an ample ingredient in bringing the small person into being. “So, you having fun with Sarah’s kids, sure looks like you were quite in your element before I cut in.”

“I’m always in my element when you’re around doll.” He smiled, wrapping his uncoordinated hands around the oval of your waist, and tugging you sentimentally closer, your hips bumped with his, as your eyes ogled infatuatedly up at him. “They’re great kids, makes me realise exactly what we’re gonna be missing out on.” Bucky gulped, sparks of emotion taunted the behind of his eyes, like saucers of resentful fire. “You’d be the perfect mother, you know that right? After all you’ve done for me, you’ve nurtured me close to the man that I once was, the only difference is that I want to settle, but I don’t know how to go about dropping everything. This kid is killing me, he’s making me question everything.”

“That’s what kids are supposed to do, unborn, or very much avidly attacking grown men with false lightsabers.” Bucky deeply into your frustrated and corresponding eyes, your hands reaching up to play defiantly with the smooth dip in his chin that could be seen through the shading of his light stubble. “What if we did have a Jim and Jody of our own some day? We could keep him or her, they’d be our greatest concern, we don’t have to go down this painful and longing, rusted road. We could bring something good into this world, protect them against all forces that threaten to disrupt their life, I want this with you Bucky. We could move far far away, or go somewhere close to home.”

“Brooklyn.” He stated, causing a line to crease gently in the plain of his forehead. “I want to call them Brooklyn, if I am to fight the rest of my life for something, I want it to be my home. Last time I had to leave there, but it’s my amends to never leave this child of ours, if we’re going to do this, we need to put them in front of everything, and I mean everything.” He spoke, in reference to the other avengers and other aliases that you had stood by for so long. Bleakly you nodded, grasping his jaw down for an amorous kiss, humming against the palette of his lips, as your hands entwined behind his neck, pulling his face closer to your own, prompting his tongue to travel deeper within the realm of your mouth.

“Brooklyn is a nice name. How about Brooklyn Margaret Barnes? I think that has quite the ring to it.” You offered, and he hardly reacted, instead quickly appraising a pleasant smile onto the canvas of his work of art face, as he ducked his head down, conjoining the pair of you into a passionate and meaningful collide of your lips. Sam smiled as he watched the pair of you, pointing at you two from afar, as his nephews from afar. He was giving them a man to men talk, offering them advice that they would have valuable usage of in the future.

“Now that is love. You don’t give up for the one thing that connects you, and those two, well Bucky and y/n have been through a hell of a lot. They deserve this, and when you meet a woman when you’re older, and your mum is watching on towards the two of you, I want you to make her proud by treating your girl like a princess, willing to sacrifice everything simply to create the future that she wishes for you.” He emotionally wiped his eyes, rushing to stand before he grasped a lightsaber, leaving the other to spare for one of them. “Now Jim and Jody, which one of you will be my padawan?”

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liron-ao3 · 3 years

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Kiss to that

Destiel oneshot

"How long have you two been married?" Marcus asks as Dean and Castiel sit on the sofa in his living room where they want to find out if the man and his husband Louis are haunted by a ghost.

Dean moves to the side instinctively, not even sure why he and Castiel ended up sitting shoulder to shoulder in the first place, with the sofa big enough for them not to.

Castiel furrows his brow. "We're not married."

"Oh, sorry," Louis says. "You don't need a ring to prove your love, right?" He looks at them so kindly that Dean schools his features into a smile.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm happy for you guys."

Marcus nods and presses a kiss on his husband's cheek. Dean can see Castiel tilt his head and tighten his eyes as he watches the two men opposite them exchange easy affection. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Dean's eyes linger on it for a long moment.

"I think we have everything we need," Dean says, pulling his gaze away, and gets up. "Thank you for your time."

***

"It must be a homophobic ghost. Their queerness is the only thing the victims have in common," Sam reasons. "It's our best shot."

"I won't kiss my brother," Dean says firmly.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Me neither. Cass, would you mind making out with a man in public?"

Castiel looks up from the paper he's reading. "As a bait for the ghost?" Sam nods. "Sure. I've never kissed someone taller than I, though."

Dean rolls his eyes and pushes the memory of Castiel's tongue cleaning Meg's tonsils away.

"Just kissing, or do you think we need to do more to attract the ghost? The couples were all heavily 'making out' when they were attacked."

Sam snorts at Castiel's air quotes. "Nah, I think kissing will be enough, as long as it looks intimate."

Castiel hums in agreement.

***

The park looks suspiciously calm when Dean stops the Impala on the adjoining street that night.

"Are you ready for it, or do you need to practice first, buddy?" Dean asks, his nervousness hidden behind the thick mask of a grin that is so fake that it hurts. Kissing a crush is never a good idea. Dean learnt that lesson at 13, when he kissed Jenny McFarlane after spinning the bottle.

"We're going to be fine," Castiel states evenly.

Sam pats him on his shoulder before he slides out of the backseat and opens the door for him like a perfect gentleman.

When Dean steadied himself with several deliberate breaths, he walks around the car, ready to do what he hasn’t allowed himself for years now. His breath hitches as he passes Baby's hood. Sam and Castiel are standing there, their fingers already intertwined. Dean stares at their joint hands for an embarrassingly long moment before he clears his throat.

"I thought we—"

Castiel raises his eyebrow. "You're coming with us? I thought the third waited in the car as back-up?"

"Um," Dean replies eloquently and runs a hand over his face. "Mints, anyone?" Sam gives him a strange look. Dean shrugs. "Just wanted it to be good for you if you have to suck face and play gay."

"I'm not playing gay," Sam says.

"Me neither," Castiel adds, and Dean nearly topples over from the impact of both their impromptu coming outs.

"O—okay. I'm happy that sucking face won't suck that much, in that case," Dean replies, wincing at his own stupid words, his stomach tying itself into knots. Sam and Castiel will only fake a relationship. No biggie, right?

Sam chuckles and grins at Castiel. "We both know that we're not attracted to each other," he says easily as if this was a topic he had discussed with Castiel in abundance.

Wait! Have they?

Castiel nods in agreement. "Sam isn't really my type," he says, eyes turning glassy for a moment.

Dean swallows down the urge to ask him what exactly his type is. But his eyes fall on his watch. Dammit! Only two minutes until the usual attack time. The ghost is strangely scheduled. He ushers the 'couple' to the next best park bench and scans the surroundings, mainly for not needing to look at them as they start their smooching. But nothing happens for ten long minutes

When Dean is ready to call the whole thing off, Sam's phone starts ringing. Dean gives him an annoyed look. "Really?" he mouths when Sam looks guiltily at him. Oldest mistake since the invention of mobile phones. Sam raises his hand and motions to Dean to take his place.

Dean hesitates for a long moment, but then his eyes fall on Castiel's lips, glistening wetly in the moonlight. Dean sighs and walks to the bench, sitting down a little stiffly. He grabs Castiel's hand.

"Are you alright with this?" the angel whispers.

"Sure. I may not be gay, but lips are lips, right?"

Castiel nods quietly. "We should start then. Sam surely will get a good look at her so that we can find out which of our suspects it is. They are nothing alike."

Dean nods and wets his lips. "Okay. Let's do this." He cradles Castiel's face in his hand. It's weird with the stubble scratching against it. Weird, but not unpleasant. He runs his thumb over Castiel's lips, erasing any trace of his brother. Then, he leans in and brushes Castiel's lips with his own. It's not half bad, but Castiel isn't really reciprocating the kiss. Didn't have a problem when it was Sammy, Dean thinks, feeling sore.

"Go with it, man. It must be believable. Otherwise, the ghost will ignore us," Dean says, and Castiel complies.

Dean wouldn't have thought Castiel to be such a good kisser. This isn't a pizza man kiss. This one is passionate yet gentle. Castiel's hand ends up in Dean's short hair, and the hunter grabs the lapel of the angel's trench coat. It feels really, really nice, Dean has to admit. Better than he had imagined over the last years.

No, Dean hasn't lied. He isn't gay. Technically, his little brother and the multidimensional wavelength brushing his tongue through Dean's mouth with celestial intent aren't either. But hey, 'umbrella term' and all that stuff Charlie has taught him.

What a bad idea it was to kiss his best friend slash secret crush only registers when Dean hears Sam curse and a crowbar flies over their heads, right through the ghost that was about to attack them.

"Could've killed us with that thing!" Dean shouts.

"Thank me later." Sam grins. "Come on, it was the blonde. Let's get her salt'n'burnt."

Dean gets up from the bench, Castiel's hand still in his own. The angel doesn't move, a rapturous look adorning his face. "Come on, Cass. Before she returns."

Castiel blinks himself out of his daze.

***

They watch the bones go up in flames together. Castiel touches Dean's cheek and heals the cut that the ghost left there in a last attempt to keep him from bringing her haunting to an end.

"One less homophobic soul in this world," Sam says.

"I'll drink to that," Dean replies.

Sam smirks at him. "Better kiss to that. I'll get my own room," he says.

Dean blushes crimson, the red even visible in the firelight. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam shakes his head. "Only that there is a reason why it worked on you and not on Cass and me."

Castiel pierces him with his gaze, but stays silent.

Sam huffs a laugh. "You two are idiots! Can't you see that the ghost only attacked people who were truly in love?" He shakes his head and wanders off in the direction of their motel, not far away from the cemetery.

Dean looks at Castiel with shock-widened eyes. "I'm not—"

Castiel grins at him. "That's a shame. Because I am."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean presses out, and just like that, they are kissing again, in the middle of nowhere in front of an open grave. Who says romance is dead?

#destiel #deancas #fanfiction #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fic #deancas fanfic #deancas fanfiction #destiel fandom #deancas fandom

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 3 years

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Welcome to the End

Summary: Y/N Winchester was a hunter like her brothers, following in their fathers footsteps. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

During a case in Georgia, you meet the Dixon brothers and after saving Daryl’s life against a Chupacabra, the two of you become close. But, when the zombie apocalypse starts, life as you know it changes forever.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Winchester!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Language, descriptions of blood, injury and violence.

Chapter 15-

You tried not to let your eyes wander over to Abraham's body or to your brothers who you knew were standing somewhere behind you.

Eventually the sun began to rise along the horizon. Beams of light shining through the tree tops before the familiar sound of the RV filled the air.

The RV pulled up a moment later, parking in the same spot it was earlier. But, the once clean RV was now covered in walker guts and blood.

The door opened and Negan dragged Rick by the back of his jacket and dumped him in front of your group.

Instantly you knew something was wrong. He wouldn't put Rick there, he'd put him back in the line up, what was he planning? You had a deal for God sake.

"Let me ask you something, Rick. Do you even know what that little trip was about?" Negan asked, looking down at Rick who didn't seem to be hurt or injured as he slowly pushed himself onto his knees. "That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But, you're still looking at me the same damn way, like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that's not gonna work. So, do I give you another chance?"

"Yes." Rick whispered, his eyes glued to the ground in front of him, his body shaking.

"Alright and here it is, the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone's last crap day or just another crap day. Get some guns to the back of their heads."

Suddenly, the Saviours guns all cocked again as you felt a barrel of a gun press against the back of your head.

You didn't dare move as you kept your eyes on Rick, but your hand was really starting to hurt now.

The adrenaline you had earlier slowly disappearing as your body shook in anger and fear as Rick looked up in panic, taking in all the guns until his teary eyes locked with yours. You gave him a sad smile, but Rick just shook his head, unable to process what was happening.

"Kid. Right here." Negan suddenly ordered and your eyes snapped over at Carl in panic, but he didn't move as he glared at Negan from under his hat. "Kid, now."

"You a lefty?"

"No." Carl answered.

"Good."

Negan began to tie his belt around Carl's left hand and your eyes widen in shock. No, he wasn't going to cut off Carl's arm. He couldn't do that. You made a deal. You made a goddamn deal and he said wouldn't hurt anyone else.

"That hurt?"

"No."

"It should. It's supposed to. Alright, get down on the ground, kid, next to daddy. Spread them wings." Negan instructed as he grabbed Carls hat and threw it to the side before Carl got to his knees as Negan pushed him further to the ground until he was lying flat on his stomach beside Rick. "Simon, you got a pen?"

"Yeah."

Simon pulled a pen from his pocket and tossed to Negan who caught it with ease as he crouched down between Rick and Carl. He leant over and rolled up the sleeve of Carl's flannel shirt before he drew a line across the kids forearm.

"Please. Please don't. Please don't." Rick whispered, his body still shaking as he looked from Carl to Negan.

"Me? I ain't doing shit."

You and Rick to just stare at Negan in confusion, but a split second later your brains clicked as you both looked back to Carl in panic.

He was going to make Rick do it.

"Rick, I want you to take your axe and cut your son's left arm off, right on that line." Negan instructed as he stood up and took a step back from them. "Now, I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die and then you, eventually. I'm going to keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it."

"You- you don't have to do this." Michonne stuttered, speaking up for the first time as Negan looked over at her and you nodded in agreement.

"We understand. This is our way of life now, we understand. Just don't do this." You pleated, hating how desperate your voice sounded, but Negan just shook his head.

"You understand. Yeah. I'm not sure that Rick does. I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice. Nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees, give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine. Probably." Negan continued to say as he crouched back down beside Rick.

If wasn't for Daryl's hand still holding your shoulder you would have ran over there by now.

"Rick, this needs to happen now or I will crush the little fella's skull myself." Negan added, but Rick just shook his head as he stared at Carl with teary eyes.

"Do something!" You whispered, glancing over your shoulder at your brothers.

They both caught your eye and stared back at you.

But, it was like you were looking at Demon Dean and Soulless Sam again, because they didn't even show any form of remorse or emotion as they turned their attention back to Negan.

"It can- It can be me." Rick stuttered.

"No. This is the only way. Rick, pick up that he axe. Not making a decision is a big decision. You really want to see all these people die? Oh my God, are you gonna make me count?" Negan asked as grabbed the axe and placed it in Rick's hand. "Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. Three!"

"Please. It can be me. Please!" Rick begged, his voice breaking as he cried.

"Two!"

"Please, don't do..." Rick trailed off as he sobbed, staring at Carl lying on the ground beside him.

You could feel tears starting to fall down your cheeks watching your best friend and his son as Daryl's hand tightened on your shoulder, like he was afraid you were going to try and charge at Negan again.

"Dad, just do it. Just do it." Carl whispered.

You watched as Rick raised the axe with trembling hands and you closed your eyes, unable to watch before Negan's voice filled the air.

"Rick." He said and your eyes snapped back open as Negan lowered Rick's arm with the axe. "You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?" He asked and Rick frantically nodded.

"Speak when you're spoken to! You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me, right?!" Negan shouted, his hands grabbing Ricks chin to make him look at him.

"Right." Rick nodded in agreement and Negan grinned.

"Right. That is the look I wanted to see." Negan declared, letting go of Rick as he stood up and looked around at the rest of you. "We did it, all of us together even the dead guy on the ground. Hell, he gets the spirit award for sure. Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sake that you get it now, that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you, that is over now."

"Ah. Sam, grab her." Negan instructed, pointing towards you.

You felt Daryl's body tense from beside you, but before either of you could do or say anything Negan continued talking.

"Dwight, load him up."

No.

That wasn't part of the deal.

It was just meant to be you, that was the deal. He could do whatever he wanted with you, but he had to leave the others alone.

Suddenly Sam grabbed you by the back of your flannel and wrenched you to your feet before Dwight grabbed Daryl and began pulling him towards the back of the van.

"No! That wasn't part of the deal!" You yelled, thrashing in your brothers grip, not even looking at him as you stared at Dwight who shoved Daryl inside the van before aiming the crossbow at him.

"You son of a bitch! Let him go! This wasn't the deal!" You screamed, tears of anger filling your eyes.

Suddenly, Sam pulled out a handgun and pressed it against the side of your head to get you to shut up causing you to freeze.

"You're not going to shoot me, Sammy." You responded, tilting your head towards your brother causing him to press the barrel harder against your temple.

"Don't push me." He warned, glaring down at you.

"They have guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know. I like them. They're mine now. But, you still want to try something? 'Not today, not tomorrow'? I will cut pieces off of... Hell's his name?" Negan questioned looking up at Dean who was now standing beside Sam, but making no move to help you.

"Daryl." He answered.

"Wow. That actually sounds right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep. Or better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me." Negan threatened, standing back up as he glanced around at the rest of you.

"Ahh! Welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits! I'm gonna leave you a truck. Keep it. Use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me. We'll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then ta-ta." Negan announced tossing Rick's axe over his shoulder.

All the Saviours began to pile into the various vehicles they had parked around the area before Sam practically threw you into the back of a van.

You landed on your back with a solid thud causing you to gasp in pain as your hand slammed against the ground. You quickly scrambled into a sitting position as you watched Sam slam the back shut and everything turned black.

You sat against the wall of the van, cradling your hand to your chest as you tried to ignore the thumping pain coming from it before the van started up and began to move.

You tried to memories the path it took, trying to take mental notes of when you turned left or right, but everything just blurred together and you had no idea where you were.

Eventually, the vehicle stopped and a moment later the back doors opened.

You blinked a few times to get your eyes to adjust to the light before you spotted Negan standing in the doorway staring at you with an unreadable expression.

You tried to look past Negan, taking in your surroundings, but there was no sign of Daryl anywhere or your brothers.

"Simon, take her to the infirmary to get her hand checked out." Negan instructed before he began to walk off.

Simon pulled you out the truck and began leading you towards the large building that looked like it used to be an old factory back in the day.

You didn't bother trying to fight. You were still too weak to use your powers and even if you could, you didn't want to risk Negan hurting Daryl,

Simon didn't say anything as he pulled you through the hallway, his hand like a vice around your upper arm. You knew it would leave a bruise, but it was nothing compared to the pain in your hand.

Eventually, you reached what you assumed was the infirmary as Simon roughly pushed you onto the hospital seat.

A man dressed in a lab coat grabbed a bunch of supplies from the desk behind him before he turned around and introduced himself as Dr Carson.

You figured he must have some sort of relation to the Dr Carson at Hilltop, but you didn't ask any questions.

For the most part the doctor seemed nice, but you hated how Simon stood in the doorway and watched the entire time.

The doctor stitched up all the slices over your palm from the barbed wire before he put some kind of black brace around your left hand. He said that the brace needed to stay on for at least three weeks, but you weren't really listening because like hell you were going to be in here for three weeks. You just had to wait and bid your time, then you'd find Daryl and escape.

"Your lucky Negan has taken a liking to you, otherwise you would've been dead when you grabbed his bat. Consider yourself lucky." Simon stated as he pulled you down the hallway before stopping by a door.

You knew why Negan had taken a liking to you because whatever God had done to him, he still had vague memories of his old life. He recognised you, but he still had no idea who you were.

"Take your clothes off." Simone suddenly instructed causing your eyes to quickly snap back towards him and you shook your head. "It wasn't a question, take them off."

"That's not happening."

"The boss said you can keep your underwear and bra, but if you keep refusing then I will make you take them off as well."

For a few seconds you didn't say anything as you tried to figure out what to do before Simon started to make his way towards you and you quickly raised your hand.

"Okay. Okay." You said softly and the man stopped walking as you hesitantly pulled your flannel shirt off.

Simon held his hand out and you handed it to him before he nodded at you to continue.

You kicked your shoes off and unbuttoned your jeans before you pushed them down and stepped out of them.

"C'mon." Simon instructed motioning towards your tank top.

You had to bite your tongue as you fought every urge in your body to fight back before you pulled it off over your hand and tossed it at him.

Wrapping your arms around your stomach, you eyed Simon cautiously as he looked you up and down and chuckled in amusement before he unlocked the door to your left and pushed you inside.

You slammed into the wall at the far end of the room with a grunt before Simon locked the door behind you.

Everything was dark, minus the small bit of light seeping in from under the door, but other than that the room was black.

With a sigh you leant your back against the corner as you slowly sat yourself down, leaning your back against the wall, you hugged your knees to your chest.

You closed your eyes as you thought back to the line up.

How Negan bashed Abraham to death. How he was going to kill Daryl and then changed his mind and nearly killed Glenn. How he was going to make Rick cut off Carl's hand.... Everything was just playing through your mind on repeat as tears began to rise in your eyes again and you didn't even try to fight them as you let them trickle down your cheeks.

But, you couldn't figure out if Negan was really your father or just someone in his body... you didn't even know which option you'd rather it to be.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, trapped with your own thoughts before the door suddenly opened again.

You didn't even get a chance to stand up to try and escape before someone else was thrown into the room. And as quickly as it happened, the door was slammed shut again.

"Looks like I got a cellmate. You got a name?" You asked into the darkness.

"Wait, Y/N?" A gruff voice questioned from beside you somewhere.

You froze, recognizing that southern drawl from anywhere.

"Daryl? Oh thank God." You sighed with relief trying to look around the small room, but there was no point, you couldn't see him.

"Are ya alright? Nobody touched ya did they?" Daryl questioned, worry evident in his tone.

"I'm fine, hand is fractured apparently, but the doctor put it in some kind of brace. I'm fine, I just don't get why they took me to the infirmary, why do they care whether we're okay or not?"

"Probably want us to work for 'em." Daryl replied and by the tone of his voice it was clear that that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"It's my father. Negan is my father."

"What?"

"John Winchester. My father, it's Negan. I don't know how, but it's him and he doesn't remember me. I think Chuck has something to do with it." You explained.

"I thought ya killed Chuck."

"I did, but maybe he set this in motion before he died? I thought maybe it was a demon or shapeshifter in my fathers body, but my angle blade didn't do anything... it's really him. My father is alive." You rambled, feeling tears starting to rise in your eyes.

"Whatever Chuck did, that ain't ya father. The stories ya used to tell me 'bout John... he'd never do somethin' like this. This ain't your father. Don't forget that, this is a bad man, he ain't your father." Daryl insisted, but you shook your head.

"But, what if it is? Daryl... I-I don't know what to do." You stuttered, because if it really was your father, he was a murderer now, he was a bad man and how were you meant to live with that?

Daryl didn't say anything for a moment as you heard him shuffling from the other side of the room before his hand suddenly grabbed your good one and squeezed it gently.

"We'll figure it out." He whispered as silent tears trickled down your cheeks before he sat down beside you. "Your brothers though..." Daryl started to say before he trailed off.

"That's not the Sam and Dean I know." You answered, wiping the tears from your eyes before Daryl wrapped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"It's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out." He said softly.

You nodded, resting your head against Daryl's bare shoulder, his other hand still holding yours as you cried.

MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

-Gifs used are not mine. Credit to rightful owners.

#Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #Destiel #SPN

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

Text

based on this hilarious post, by @profoundinqq! and written for @mystybloo.

sam looks at his brother, a fast-growing-familiar eye crinkling smile making him look perfectly content as he leans on cas, relaxing his weight against him with an arm wrapped around cas's shoulders. they're all drinking — have been a while, but that's not where dean's smile stems from, and sam knows that. he looks carefree, younger, and so happy, and it's a constant sam's been noticing a while now, though tonight, and lately, it just seems normal.

(that's the thing. it is.)

sometimes sam wonders how it all began.

he's obviously ecstatic it did - honestly, he could think forever, and not come up with two individuals more deserving of such profound happiness, as dean or cas. or the love, abound when they're together, so incredibly obvious, and somehow, almost hope-kindling in a ways.

but it doesn't stop him wondering, right now, at this moment, how they finally ended up taking the leap. facing the music, falling into each other's arms, ending their ridiculous, decade-long dance of pining, confessing.

dean's never volunteered the information, and sam's never felt it urgent enough (or himself, earnest enough) to ask cas - but oh, it's probably been buried in the back of his mind for long, bundled with all the other pleasanter questions about life and living it — and today, it leaps to the front when the empty, green bottle spinning ambitiously under everyone's pointed stares, ends up stuttering to a pause, pointed at his brother.

they're playing truth or dare - a significant percentage of their adopted family present, although only a few remaining cause it's past midnight. they're sitting on the floor in a circle, all varying degrees of drunk - and sam winchester seizes his chance.

"truth or dare, dean."

dean doesn't really hesitate, which is commendable; he just disentangles himself from being draped over his boyfriend, and takes another swig from his bottle. "truth."

"how did you and cas -" sam pauses. his eyes shift to cas, and the angel faintly smiles back.

"- finally grow a pair?" gabriel finishes for him prematurely, leading to sam glaring in his general direction, because it's a little hard to know his exact coordinates at sam's current levels of inebriation.

"we haven't been growing anything." cas says, a hint of humor in his squint but that's about it. "or pairs of things."

"yeah, sammy." dean agrees, though his is not a wooden face. he doesn't pretend to not understand what sam - or well, gabriel, is going for. "me and cas? we're old news."

"you're a blank page." sam frowns, prissy and self-righteous, and somehow pulling off an annoyed little brother vibe on top of that. fuck that, he's the same distance from forty as dean, just the less prone-to-forgetting-the-reasons-he-enters-a-room side. "with a question mark at the end of the headline."

"how did you end up together?"

it's not his best comeback, but dean rolls his eyes — admission of defeat — with no real passion in the practiced habit. "what do you want to know?"

cas looks at dean with a substantial amount of surprise.

"he gave me a pick-me-up, back in hell." dean throws back, before realizing he's earned eye rolls from almost everyone in the room. sam takes it a step ahead, slipping into bitchface territory, as if to remind dean that he gets to ask these questions now - they're over lying about breaking the world to each other, at this point. they have to be.

another eyeroll, and then dean sighs.

"goddamn saps, all of you." he looks accusingly around the room, meeting eileen, charlie and gabriel's twinkling eyes. "fine. what version you want?"

"well, the long -"

"trick question. there's only one." dean cuts him off, with an age-old rendition of a shit-eating grin. if sam can spend his entire life and then some, perfecting the bitchface, at least dean's got this. "so, uh. me and cas."

charlie giggles, but shuts up immediately when dean starts speaking.

"guess we were playing truth and dare then as well." dean frowns. "man, for a bunch of badass dudes and ladies who save the world, we sure play a lot of middle-school games in the afterparties."

"i like it." cas defends, and that's that on that, because dean strokes cas's knee with his thumb and a smile, and they stare until the fork in the conversation is forgotten and sam clears his throat impatiently. (it's gabriel's turn to giggle.)

"right. right, yeah." dean swallows. "well, so it landed on me, and cas asked me to choose -"

"he dared you to kiss him!" charlie guesses, or actually, declares, beaming.

"no, katherine heigl, this isn't a chickflick."

"if you went for katherine heigl, you should've gone for romcom." gabriel inputs, almost serious for a fraction of a second.

"does it matter?" eileen signs, and sam reads her hands out loud absentmindedly, and with enthusiasm.

"dean, would you just say it minus the drama pauses?"

"yeah, instead of being grossly inaccurate in your movie genre references?" gabriel piles on top of it, and charlie nods in sympathy.

"of course you are, but i think i specified your face was." cas points out, and it's the first time he's spoken up, and dean almost blushes for it.

dean pulls a face. "go to hell, i don't have to take this." but he goes on anyway, cause that's dean, isn't it? "just - i chose truth, okay?"

no one breathes for a moment.

"and cas told me i was beautiful."

there's a gasp. probably charlie — but not completely unlikely to be gabriel.

"yeah, 'kay." dean dismisses, though it's mostly directed at the other four (hunter, hunter, nerd, ex-trickster, not necessarily in that order) who've taken to gushing by now. "and that's it. story over. cas messed up, billion year old angel style, and it led me to realize he was the most adorable dork i've ever loved. or like, the only one. ever."

sam, charlie, eileen and gabriel bat their eyelashes in undisguised wonder.

"you're allowed to disperse to your rooms to cry now." dean retorts, and he's about to add more to it considering he's well settled on the wisecrack wavelength, when cas suddenly interrupts.

with an inscrutable, "no."

"no?" dean repeats, eyebrows raised.

there's a speck in cas's eyes, the curve of his lips too whimsical. it's almost un-cas-like, except no, it isn't. doesn't stop dean from staring anyways - eyes falling to the latter's lips, before returning to his eyes.

"dean, i knew how the game worked."

dean frowns.

"i 'messed up' the rules on purpose." and he accompanies it with the fucking air-quotes, so he might sound completely nuts, but it's definitely still him.

"what does that mean?"

there's pin-drop silence.

"you'd call me adorable when i didn't understand aspects of human behavior or games often. and it always made you smile. so at some level, i wanted that, even when i did understand those things. sometimes, i'm compelled to draw the conclusion, i wanted you to think i was adorable." cas pauses, blinks. "that time, it was an added, and wholly unexpected incentive when you decided to give up on trying to explain it to me, and kissed me instead."

"cas -" dean stares at his angel in gap mouthed bewilderment. he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel right now - though it's hard to feel any kind of manipulated, when cas is being this honest about it. alternatively, when it's gotten him the best part of his life. "you lied to me."

"of course i didn't." the bastard has the balls to sound indignant about it. "your face is exquisite."

"stop that." dean swallows, trying to keep himself from getting flustered. "you literally played dumb."

"stating entirely true facts about your bewitching face hardly sets back my intelligence, dean."

a traitor snickers in the background.

dean is officially too drunk to deal with this. he's going to give it more thought tomorrow - that is, if he remembers it at all. right now, what's way more important, is that his boyfriend apparently flirts by pretending to misinterpret rules, and accidentally compliment dean, and that's the most ridiculous thing dean's ever heard, in a life stuffed to the damn brim with ridiculous things.

"you're so fucking weird, cas."

"no, dean. i'm adorable." cas deadpans at him, and dean lets out a high-strung laugh, short, after which he finds himself able to do little else but shake his head fondly. mostly, at the floor, because if he'd been looking at cas, he'd probably also have been kissing him.

"and you agree." sam points out, to dean, and in return, dean snaps up a look pissed off enough for sam to truly feel sated enough by this ordeal, because he shrugs, and eileen sets the bottle spinning again.

nobody protests.

a few chances later, after charlie's rushed off to throw up, and sam and eileen have gone to bed, and gabriel's sort of wandered away at the very least - cas spins the bottle again.

it's just the two of them, so when the bottle points at about forty degrees from straight at dean, they decide to forego asking the lamp in the bottle's true line of questioning, in favor of cas asking dean.

"truth or dare?"

"dare."

"alright, i shall." cas whispers, reaching out to cup dean's face as he kisses him, and pull him closer. and dean goes, obviously not arguing with the concept of cas kissing him, even if he's doing it 'as a dare', in a hilarious, mindboggling, and adorable callback to that time dean realized he was in love with him — because he's a weird ex-angel-who-apparently-understands-humans-now, and also, definitely, the love of his life.

("cas." dean psst's, later in bed, when cas is turned away from him, hugging a pillow with his knees. "truth or dare?" cas groggily turns, "truth." dean breaks into a smile. "will you marry me?" cas freezes for a beat, and then drags dean to himself, kissing him with his eyes closed, still stunned, but no less enthusiastic for it. when they separate, cas's cheeks are wet, and dean feels like he's floating. "you know, sweetheart, we can play the old-fashioned way, and you'd still be the most adorable thing in my life." dean mumbles, kissing cas again, this time on his forehead, and in the same, shared breath, cas breathes out, smiling. "yes.")

#destiel #deancas #destiel crack #destiel fluff #dean winchester #castiel #canon divergence #sam winchester #saileen #charlie bradbury #gabriel #tfw #destiel wedding #truth or dare #bluefirecas #tearsofgrace #rambleoncas #chaoticdean #oh writing my writing

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deans-mind-palace · 4 years

Text

Verity

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam & Reader

Summary: During her last breath, the witch had taken revenge. Things get interesting when Dean’s hit by a truth spell. Unfortunately, it is not easy to hide a secret if you always have to tell the truth. But that doesn't explain why Dean is avoiding you all the time, does it?

Word Count: 3,549

Warnings: Mentions of smut, angst, fluff

Author’s Note: As my present for you. This got longer than it was supposed to be… Anyway, enjoy.

Dean couldn't remember exactly when he fell in love with you. He couldn't say exactly what caused it or when he felt that way about you. At some point, those feelings just existed.

He could still remember the first time he met you, almost as if it was yesterday. He had had a hard day and while Sammy didn't want to know anything about him because his older brother had once again put his own life on the line, Dean had gone to the nearest bar to drown his sorrow in alcohol. It had been a seedy place, all lined with rough wood. The smell of cigarettes and sweat filled the air. The bar's counter had countless notches from glasses and scratches from knives. A billiard table stood further back in the room, but two balls were missing. Antlers were hanging on the walls and country music was coming out of the speakers. The floor was sticky and the red leather of the bar stools had been ripped and torn apart by buttons. But the alcohol was good. That was all Dean cared about.

It had not been a good day for him and one could clearly see that. He turned down all the women and soon he had his peace and could sit silently at the bar. His thoughts wandered lazily as you made him his first drink that evening. "This one's on the house." You smiled at him. It wasn't a pitying or flirtatious smile. It was just an honest smile. You hadn't asked any questions.

Dean glanced at his drink. It was a double whiskey with ice cubes floating in the light brown liquid and clashing softly against each other. Suddenly he had to smile. You had put a pink cocktail umbrella in his whiskey. Without words you had managed to put a smile on his lips. You were his ray of sunshine on a rainy day. You had worked in a bar for hunters of the supernatural long enough to know when a man wanted to talk and when he preferred to remain silent. Dean seemed like the second kind of guy that night. That's why you hadn't pushed him to talk all evening, but you had always been around when he needed something. Many years had passed since that day - you and the Winchesters had become a well-established team and it was as if it had never been any different.

"Shit!" cursed Dean when the witch made the books rain down on Sam from the shelf on the wall behind him. Sam ducked away and dodged the books, but they rose back up into the air where they circulated a tornado in the middle of the room. Pages fluttered and tore and a gust of air swept through the room, tearing all the carefully tied bundles of herbs from the ceiling. Lavender trickled from the ceiling. The suction in the room became stronger and stronger as the witch stared more and more concentrated at the tornado.

Suddenly the books took a new turn and shot towards Dean. He threw himself behind an overturned table and heard the books crash against the wood. Some shot across the table and broke through the window clinking. Pieces of glass hailed down on Dean as he tugged at his jacket, which had got stuck under the table while he was wearing it. He tried to free himself from the piece of cloth.

Carefully the blond raised his head and saw Sam gesticulating to you. You were trying to outsmart the witch. Sam carried the gun under his jacket, his arm was over it, protecting it. But he could not hit the witch because of the storm of objects, so he threw the gun. Before he let go, a chair rushed towards him and tore the younger brother from his feet. The weapon slipped across the floor. You were about to jump on it when the witch rushed around and caught you in her gaze. When she saw the weapon, she screamed in rage. More window panes broke and Sam moaned.

The witch's lips moved faster while her eyes were fixed on you. The weapon wobbled and rose into the air. She would kill you. Dean broke free and listened to the ripping. He drew his gun. It was just a regular gun, but it was enough of a distraction. "Hey, over here! Here I am!" The witch was driving around, staring at Dean. ...and the gun dropped to the ground and you fell forward. Immediately you pointed the gun at the witch, who once again moved her lips in a quick murmur. "Y/N?" Dean's voice was unusually high, because suddenly his whole body began to tingle.You tried to aim, but had to duck away from a chandelier. "Y/N, come on. Pull the trigger." At that moment you pulled the trigger and the bullet came out of the gun and hit the witch's flesh. The witch emitted a high, agonizing scream that sounded inhuman before she collapsed. The books hailed down with her.

Sam groaned as he stood up and dusted his clothes off. You wiped your forehead in relief and looked at Dean. He looked a little pale, but he seemed to be all right because he just shook his head and started to clear the body of books. The pages of the books now wore a crimson red as Dean threw them aside and tried not to step into the pool of blood.

You made short work of disposing the body and soon you were back in the Impala. The ride went silent and each of you used the moment of silence to finally take a breath. You had been working on the case for days and had to plan it down to the last detail to make sure you didn't make a mistake. The research had been exhausting, the questioning of the witnesses unpleasant, the journey long, the motel beds hard and witch had no desire to be killed by you.

The radio was tooting away as you looked out of the window and Sam was busy typing on his mobile phone. "Next left." he muttered, and Dean put on his blinker. You made two more turns before a motel came into sight. The engine died and you took your bags out of the trunk, then you got yourself a room. Sam unlocked the door while Dean threw your bag over his shoulder. Immediately, the blond hunter dropped himself on one of the beds.

"You see, Dean? Sam and I told you it wasn't gonna be that bad. You just have to be a little optimistic," you said after you closed the door. Dean snorted as he got up and grabbed cotton wool and disinfectant from his bag and started to dab the scratch on his forehead. He hissed.

"You know what? Sometimes you are two optimistic assholes. I'm not buying this shit. There's nothing optimistic about our lives, nothing at all! Stop dreaming and wake up! I have nightmares every night, I can't remember the last time I slept through a night. Everything is trying to kill us! Everything! And it scares the shit out of me every day!" Dean suddenly cursed. The words really came gushing out of him. He didn't realise what had happened until he saw the look in your eyes. Sam's eyes were wide open and his mouth was slightly open. Dean looked startled because of his sudden outburst of emotion. "I - um -" he seemed confused. Dean Winchester had just admitted he was scared.

You and Sam looked at each other in surprise. "Dean?" Sam asked carefully. But you beat him to it. "Have you ever cried at Lion King?" you asked. You knew the answer. But Sam didn't, and you had to promise Dean at the time not to tell anyone. Dean seemed to wrestle with himself, then the answer just popped out of him. "Yes!" Sam shot you an amused look. "At which point?" you kept asking, knowing what was to come. Once again, the handsome blond struggled with himself. "In the end, when the Simba's baby is held up." Sam snorted while you elbowed him in the side and Dean threw a murderous glance at his brother. "Well, this is going to be interesting." You smirked. You didn't notice the sheer fear in Dean's eyes and how he gave his brother a panicked look.The next morning, you woke up next to Sam when the door to your room slammed shut. The blow almost knocked it off its hinges and you drove up in horror. The younger Winchester next to you yawned sleepily and rubbed his eyes while his long brown hair stood tangled away from his head. You heard the Impala's engine come to life and the gravel splashing aside. You turned to Sam, who buried his head in the pillow and moaned. One look at the clock told you that it was just before seven. Way too early for Dean. "What's gotten into him? He must be possessed to get out of bed at this hour." You asked Sam. He stretched and then shrugged. "I don't know." Then he flipped the blanket to the side and his bare feet groped quietly across the cold floor into the bathroom. You let yourself fall back into the pillows, which smelled of Sam in an unfamiliar way. Since you knew the brothers, you had always slept with Dean. He had never said anything, so it had become natural for you to crawl into bed with him in the evening or to feel the mattress bend under his weight when he came back after a few drinks in the bar. But yesterday, the blond had vehemently refused to share a bed with you, so for better or worse you had to bunk up with Sam. You hadn't asked for a reason because you thought Dean was just in a bad mood because of the curse, yet he had hurt your feelings with his behaviour. He didn't want to sleep in the same bed with you? Maybe he hated it and was just too polite to tell you? Did the real Dean now reveal himself? All these thoughts had tormented you until late at night while Sam slept next to you and you heard Dean rolling restlessly around in his bed. Of course, you couldn't have known it was the nightmares that plagued him that night. You couldn't know that he slept much better if he knew you were safe next to him. If he could reach out his fingers at any time to feel that you were lying next to him and you were fine. It calmed him to hear your breath and feel your warmth next to him. Dean could only sleep with you by his side. Even when he picked up a girl in the bar, he always stole out of her bed and returned to you where he finally found sleep.While Sam was in the bathroom, you changed and opened his laptop. Last night, the three of you decided to stay here until you found a way to break Dean's curse. Together, you and Sam began searching through books and looking for a solution. Dean didn't return until that evening. When he finally showed up, you were relieved to see him. "Dean!" But the Winchester didn't look at you, didn't say a word. Your heart tightened painfully, and once again you realized the green-eyed hunter had changed since the curse. "Where have you been?" you asked, trying to banish the plaintive undertone from your voice. He didn't look at you when he took a beer from the fridge. "Strip club." No matter what you tried, you couldn't get through to Dean. With every word that came out of your mouth, he kept pushing you away. With each day that went by without you finding a solution to his dilemma, he distanced himself further from you. There were days when you didn't speak a word to each other. Sometimes Dean would disappear for hours and come back completely drunk. It had become a habit that you slept with Sam, because the older brother obviously did not want you around him. Sam noticed that, too. At some point he took his brother aside and talked to him. You didn't know what they were talking about, but it was urgent and the conversation ended with Dean rushing out of the room angrily and throwing the door into the lock behind him. You didn't understand anything anymore.

While you and Sam stayed at the motel, Dean got in his car. He started the Impala and drove away from the parking lot with squealing tires. He hated to rain on your parade every day. His heart tightened when he saw the pain in your eyes. It was the worst thing for Dean to know that he was the cause of that pain. Suddenly he pulled over. Angrily, he pounded the steering wheel of his beloved car with his fists. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?

His mood got worse every day that went by. The truth was agonizing and tasted bittersweet in his mouth. It left his lips quickly and yet it weighed so much heavier than any lie he had ever told. You had been stuck here for almost two weeks now and hadn't come one step closer to breaking the curse. Sam had already talked to Bobby on the phone. You had searched all the Internet forums, but nothing had turned up.

Dean was frustrated. Emotionally, physically, and sexually. He hated pushing you away. The blond slept poorly if he didn't feel you next to him and he needed to get off. To get you out of his system. He relaunched the Impala and soon landed in a club. The music roared, the bass boomed. Sweaty bodies rubbed against each other, the air was stuffy, the alcohol expensive.

It wasn't long before a blonde caught his interest. Clothes too tight, neckline too revealing, too drunk. Perfect for a meaningless act. He bought her two drinks and it wasn't long before she navigated him giggling back to her place. As soon as the door behind them fell shut, Dean pressed her against the wall and kissed her to stop her talking. She talked and giggled too much. She tasted of alcohol, her plastic nails scratched his cheeks and he had forgotten her name. Maybe he hadn't even asked for her name.

It was quick and messy. When Dean threw her half-naked on her bed and came over her like a predator, her lips parted. The girl used the opportunity to say something. That had been a mistake. "Do you desire me?" she moaned as Dean's lips attacked her neck. Dean bit his bottom lip, but could not prevent his next words. "No, I do not." Inside, he cursed and squeezed his eyes together almost as if waking up from a nightmare. He did not. "Are you thinking of someone else?" she asked. "Yes." And before he had finished speaking these three letters, he felt a stabbing pain on his cheek. She had slapped him in the face. "I'm not one of those who do it for money," she hissed furiously.

It wasn't long before Dean had pulled his shirt back over his head and grabbed his jacket before he was thrown out. His cheek was burning and in the Impala's rearview mirror he saw the flaming red mark on his cheek. Her nails were clearly visible. Dean cursed for a long time and soon he was rushing across the country road at far too high a speed. The windows were rolled down and his mix tape boomed out of the boxes.

You and Sam have been searching for days for a solution to the curse. You had already gone through every book you could get your hands on, but you found nothing. None of you knew how Dean was doing at the time, too busy with your own problems. Sam closed the next book and put it on top of the pile of books you had already searched. He massaged his temples and moaned.

"We find nothing. We've been looking for days, but we find nothing! We're running out of money, Y/N. We have to keep moving. The motel is too expensive. We can't afford to spend ten days in a motel." You sighed and slammed your book shut as well. "I know, Sammy." Your joints popped as you stretched. "There's a skinwalker a few towns over that we should check out." You nodded silently, then changed in the bathroom before joining Sam who was already on your bed. At the sight of it, your heart shrank painfully, because you didn't know what was worse. That you had gotten so used to sleeping in one bed with Sam by now or that despite Dean's behavior you still wished to share a bed with him.

Sam saw the pain in your eyes and clenched his hands in fists under the blanket. His brother had no idea what he was doing to you every day with his behavior. Sam felt sorry for you. He didn't need to be a detective to know how you felt about his brother. Sam lifted the blanket for you and you slipped into his arms. You stared blankly and hot-eyed at the ceiling, its plaster crumbling. Sam took you in his arms. "It's going to be all right," he whispered in your ear, and for a moment you wished you could believe him.

You had underestimated the skinwalker when you split up in the canalization to find the bastard. It had taken Dean's form and you fell for it for a moment... Then the skinwalker started talking to you and you knew it wasn't Dean. Dean wouldn't talk to you. The realization that you could tell it wasn't Dean by him talking to you made you angry. All the time you had been sad and hurt, now the anger was boiling inside you. But before you could react, the skinwalker had overpowered you. It was now running around out there with your face. Meanwhile you sat tied to Dean on the slippery floor of the canalization.

Dean was terrified when he saw you. You were bleeding from a cut on your cheek and couldn't move your leg properly. Concern for you overshadowed his fear of exposure. "Y/N! Are you okay?" he asked anxiously. It was the first words he had spoken to you in weeks. As soon as you heard his innocent question, something exploded inside you. "Oh, suddenly now, Dean? Suddenly you're worried about me, and you're talking to me again?! After weeks of avoiding me, you finally decide to talk to me again?" you snarled angrily. Dean closed his eyes painfully, but you couldn't see it because you were back to back. "Y/N - I - please - I'm sorry." he pleaded, but you just laughed joylessly. "Save it, Dean. I don't want to hear it. You hurt me deeply. I thought we were friends, but apparently you were just a good actor," you said bitterly. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N," Dean said, but you didn't even look at him. "You hate sleeping in the same bed with me? Okay, fine, you could have told me that! I don't play a role in your life? Then what have I been doing with you guys for the past few years? I'd like to crash your damn car, Winchester. Maybe you should just let that skinwalker have me." You got to get that anger off your chest.

"That's not true! I've been sleeping badly for weeks because you're not lying next to me. You and Sammy are the most important people in my life. I don't care if you wreck Baby, even if I have to spend weeks fixing her, just please don't disappear from my life, Y/N. I couldn't live without you."

"Why, Dean? Then why are you like this?" you whispered in defeat. "Because I'm scared to death. Because I love you." You were so shocked, you didn't know what to say. Suddenly it all made sense. But before you could say anything, Dean had broken free of his restraints and opened yours.

"Dean, I -" But he put a finger on your lips. "Let's go." He took your hand, and together, you ran the sewer. Sam managed to disable the skinwalker and gave you a few minutes. Dean pulled to the side. "Dean, I--" He looked at you with his green eyes.

"You don't have to say anything, it's okay." You shook your head when the elder suddenly pulled something from his breast pocket. It was a little pink cocktail umbrella. You gasped. "You kept it." He nodded. "All the time. It makes me smile. Like you do every day. I wanted you to know that." This man. This incredible man who just twisted a pink cocktail umbrella between his fingers. "Dean, I love you."

And finally... finally your lips met. "At last! Took you long enough." you heard Sam, but you just smiled into the kiss as Dean pulled you closer.

@vicariouslythruspn

@crazybutconfidentaf

@zizzlekwum

@outofnowhere82

@rintheemolion

@myopiamystical

@vicmc624

@imaginationisgrowth

@seven-seas-of-fuck-you

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@fortheentries

@readsreblogsfics

@akshi8278

@hobby27

@thewintersoldierswife

@squirrelnotsam

@transparentfestivaltiger

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annab-nana · 4 years

Text

Kinda Lucky - Sam Golbach

You were away on a work trip when Sam broke his back and you can’t go visit him because of the quarantine in California, so as soon as you get back from the trip, Sam fills you in on all that happened and how the boys have been checking up on him.

Requested by @specialagentrin 💙

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 1.5k+

--------------------------------------------------

"Oh my God! Sam! Hi!" you shout excitedly as you see your boyfriend through your phone screen, but the smile on your face soon drops when you catch a glimpse of his back brace. You felt like absolute shit for not being able to really talk to him for the past week and a half, but your job wanted you and a couple of your coworkers to go on this retreat in the mountains and you barely got to use your phones. When you did get them, you were lucky if you got service.

The first night you were gone, all hell broke loose in Los Angeles. A few nights later, you got your phone for like an hour, but you had no service. Of course, you were determined to talk to Sam for at least a few minutes, so you wandered around until you got some sort of connection and when you did, all the text messages and Twitter notifications came through.

Sammy❤️ Don't freak out but I might have broken my back

Sam Tweeted: possibly just broke my back trying to jump off my roof… might go to the hospital right now and sadly no this is not a prank

Colby Tweeted: sometimes we just take things too far

Ye Roc Tweeted: Well shit

jake Tweeted: we wouldn’t prank you guys about this, it’s real. he’s a strong boy tho 💪🏻

Sammy❤️ Okay I definitely broke my back Sammy❤️ I know that when you get these messages you are gonna freak Sammy❤️ But I'm okay I promise Sammy❤️ I love you and hope you have fun on your retreat babe ❤️

Colbear🐨 hey just wanted to let you know that we made it to the hospital and he's doing good Colbear🐨 we are leaving the hospital and heading home Colbear🐨 he told me to tell you he loves you

Sam was right. As soon as you saw the messages and notifications, you freaked the fuck out. If Chloe, your coworker and close friend, had not have come on this retreat, you would have completely lost your mind worrying over your not-as-smart-as-he-thinks-he-is boyfriend. But you have had her to talk to about all this thankfully. For the few seconds of service you managed to find, you tried to call Sam, but he did not answer. So, you called his other half, Colby, and he answered. The two of you only talked for like five minutes maybe but during the whole conversation, he made sure you knew that he and the guys were taking care of your Sammy by sending you messages and videos throughout your whole trip.

"Y/n! Babe! How was your retreat?" Sam returns your same enthusiastic tone when replying.

"It was good, but I feel like crap for not being able to be with you through all this," You pout, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You bring your hands up to cover your face and attempt to calm yourself down.

"No, baby, don't cry. I am fine. See, look at me!" his cheerful voice fills your ears. Looking up at him, you see his normal bright smile shining back at you. He had a hand rested on his back brace while his other gave you a thumbs up. A giggle falls from your lips as a tear escapes your eye. You wipe it away before smiling at your boy.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He chuckles before nodding his head.

"Trust me, I know," he says as he rests both of his hands on his brace.

"Tell me how all this shit happened anyway." He sighs before beginning the story about how he and the guys were doing this ten days of dares thing for TikTok and the dare was to jump off the roof of their house onto the big white bean bag chairs that they have. And of course, when they spun the wheel to figure out who would do it, it landed on your boyfriend, Samuel John Golbach.

"Why did you agree to do it? I mean, I know you just did the video jumping off the balcony at the apartment onto those things but this was a much farther drop and there was a soft couch underneath the bean bags, not hard ass ground," you tell him and he shrugs, not really knowing why he did it but by the look on his face, you could tell he regretted it a lot.

"I don't know. I just did it and it was pretty scary. Colby kept saying 'You're good, man. You just knocked the wind out of you.' I think he was trying to convince himself more than me that I was okay. But we went inside and iced it before deciding that we should probably go to the hospital. So, Colby took me, but he told all about that right?" You nod at him before he continues.

"They gave me this cool ass vest and the guys have been the best through all of this. Even though I didn't want a break, I feel like this made me take one because I needed it. I'm stuck in this sucker for a little over four more weeks." Before he could continue, you hear someone enter his room.

"Oh, hey Jake. What's up?" Sam asks his roommate.

"Nothing bro, just brought you a drink, man," you hear Jake’s voice as Sam reaches for the beverage.

"Thanks, man," Sam smiles at his friend.

"Hello Jake!" you shout before hearing the pair chuckle.

"Hey y/n!" He responds before leaving to let Sam and I talk, but not without giving a delicate hug to his friend with the slightly damaged spine.

"So, you're getting the royal treatment, I see?" you ask as he sips on the soda that Jake had just brought to him. He hums in response.

"Well, I saw that you're still making tiktoks and not giving your back the rest it needs," you joke, receiving a cute chuckle from the man on the other end.

"No, I have been. You know how much I hate sitting around, doing absolutely nothing, but sometimes Corey will come up here and dance for me to keep me entertained. And he and Jake both invite me to come play video games with them, even when I kick Jake's ass every time." You giggle at him.

"That's my man," you boast as he smiles at you.

"Colby will come in here a lot and make sure I have everything I need. All of them do that actually, but Colby comes in here the most. It is really funny to see them try to hug me because they are so scared that it will hurt me. It doesn't and even if it did, I wouldn't care. They all hug me a whole lot than before. Colby lays in here with me and we will talk and scroll through TikTok so I'm not all alone."

"Has Colby been giving you cuddles for me?" you ask. When you talked to Colby on the phone while you were gone, you specifically asked him to give your Samuel cuddles for you. Sam laughs at the question but shakes his head.

"I hate to break it to you, but he hasn't. He's hugged me, but I have been cuddle deprived this whole quarantine."

"That bitch. I'm adding him to this call," You say as you add him to the FaceTime call between Sam and yourself. Soon enough, Sam and Colby's faces share your screen.

"Hello you two," Colby greets the two of you with a smile.

"Cole, I asked you to do one thing," you start.

"What did I do?" He questions as his eyes widen and he runs through every possible thing in his mind that he could be in trouble for.

"It's more of what you didn't do, brother," Sam comments with a huge smile on his face. Colby rolls his eyes before returning his attention to you.

"You were supposed to cuddle him for me. He doesn't have a dog like I do, and he needs cuddles now more than ever," you pout, poking out your bottom lip. Colby sighs before getting out of his bed, leaving his room, and ending the call, so it is just you and Sam on the phone. You can hear Sam's door open, causing him to look up from his phone. He flips the camera around so that you can see his best friend standing in front of his circular shaped bed. As he turns the camera back around, Colby gets into the bed with Sam and snuggles up next to him.

"Is this what you wanted?" Colby asks as he looks up at you. You bust out laughing, nodding your head. You can't help but take a screenshot of the adorableness in front of you.

"Hey, we didn't agree to that," Colby whines before sliding away from his best friend of nine years.

"Oh, trust me. You have plenty of bad pictures of me. You'll be fine, Cole," you tease. Colby leaves after a little while of you three talking and then it's just you and Sam alone again.

"Do you know how lucky you are to have friends like you do?" you ask him to which he grins greatly.

"I guess you could say I'm kinda lucky, but I am the luckiest guy in the world because I have you."

#sam #sam golbach #cute #sam x reader #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fanfiction #colby #colby brock #jake #jake webber #corey #corey scherer #fanfic #fanficiton #y/n #sncnetwork

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atc74 · 4 years

Text

Soul to Souls - Two

Warnings: Mentions of death, wolf hunt, Sassy OC, Guilt Ridden!Dean, so many more to come

Summary: Since she was four years old, Annaleigh has seen the same boy in her dreams. For twenty-five years, she grows to love the boy that has now turned into a man. Dean Winchester just lost the only family he has ever known. The guilt drives him to work harder than ever before. He works to forget the pain, until he meets Annaleigh and she turns his world upside down. What she learns changes both of their lives forever, but what will he do when he discovers the truth? Will he accept it or run back to the only life he has ever known?

Pairing: Dean x OC Annaleigh (evenutally)

Word Count: 1727

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, @katehuntington, thank you both for being my guides! Dividers by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89.

A/N: This was my very first series I ever wrote four years ago in September 2016 and I am so happy and proud to bring this back home.

Soul to Souls Master List

All in all, it took Dean three days to track and put down the werewolf with Annaleigh’s help. Her research capabilities and knowledge of the area came in handy. He talked to the Sheriff, the Game Warden, even the folks at the local animal shelter. She knew the people here, which was helpful. He had to take her along on a couple interviews with the locals, because they wouldn’t talk to Dean, but they would talk to her.

Annaleigh brought Dean to her friends’ comic book store, Betsie’s Best Comics. The manager there, Mandi, and her employee told them about their friend and owner Betsie, who was the first body found out by the creek. Mandi wouldn’t look at Dean, but Annaleigh got her to open up. She told them everything, even how Betsie had left her the store. Mandi was crying, a lot, and Dean found himself growing uncomfortable. Man, Sammy is so much better with the whole emotions thing, Dean thought to himself. Emotions weren’t Dean’s deal and he found himself grateful, more than once, that Annaleigh was with him on this one.

After they walked out of the comic book store, he looked around the main drag, feeling that familiar grumble in his stomach. “I need food,” Dean grunted, slightly irritated.

“Here,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading him into yet another store front. This one was different. This one smelled delicious. Dean’s eyes darted around the small shop. He eyed the pastries, donuts, cakes, cookies. And there, in the last case on the left, pie. They had cherry, pumpkin, apple, blueberry, all his personal favorites. But no pecan, story of his life.

“Hey there, Annaleigh! Who’s your super hot friend?” He heard one of the girls behind the counter giggle as she wiped her flour covered hands on a towel.

“Oh, is Anna here?” Dean heard another voice call out from somewhere, preceding another woman coming from the back. Two blondes stood behind the counter and just stared at him, eyeing him like he was one of the treats in their cases. They must have been sisters, huge matching smiles on their faces, as Annaleigh shut the door behind them.

“Hi, girls! It has been too long since I have been in here! I forgot how good it smells, and now I want something to eat!” Annaleigh practically shouted. “Oh, and this super hot guy is my friend, Dean Winchester. Dean, please meet Trista and Cora Dozier, owners of this fine establishment, Two Sisters Bakery. Best pastries in town and best pie this side of the Mississippi.”

“You had me at pie. Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Dean shook each of their hands gently as his eyes wandered back to the display case filled with pie, unconsciously licking his lips.

“What’s your poison, Dean?” Trista asked with a wink and a smile.

He smiled wide and sheepishly replied, “Cherry, please. And, apple. Oh, and a slice of blueberry and banana cream to go please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Too much trouble? Not at all, pie is what we do!” Cora piped up from behind the counter. “Are you sure you don’t want to try my famous french silk or maybe the pecan? I just took it out of the oven and it should be ready for serving right about now,” she said, drawing it out as she glanced down at her watch.

“Hell yes!” he exclaimed, maybe a little too excited. If you asked Dean, he hadn’t had a good pie in months. He ate a decent slice weekly at least, but not truly good pie, with the perfectly flaky homemade crust. He took the plate she offered with three different flavors. Annaleigh had a slice of the french silk and they sat down at one of the small tables with their delicious treats and coffee.

Annaleigh looked at Dean again with those damn eyes. Her lashes were unbelievably long and curling up as they searched his own emerald ones. With the last fork full of apple pie halfway to his mouth, he stopped, sighed and put the fork down. “What?” he asked her.

She just giggled, like the two sisters staring at them from behind the counter, trying to look busy but failing. “I have heard so much about you from Bobby over the last few years. I feel like I know you. For example, I know you are saving the pecan for last because it is your favorite. I know that you love that damn car more than life itself. I know that you love classic rock and chick flicks...and I know that you blame yourself for Sam.”

She laid her hand over his on the table, and her eyes welled up with tears but she blinked them back and continued. “Dean,” Annaleigh hesitates, choosing her next words meticulously. She feared he would run, and she worried that she would lose him, before she had the chance to really know him.

“I-it’s not your fault. Sam made this choice. Y-you could not have stopped him.” She paused to take a breath, a moment to collect her thoughts.

“I-I don’t wanna talk about it,” Dean whispered, blinking back the burning behind his eyelids, praying the tears would stay at bay. He pulled back in an attempt to untangle his hands from hers.

“Y-you can’t bring him back. I am sorry for what happened, but you and your brother? You saved the w-world,” she wept in hushed tones, her hands clinging tightly to his, but she pushed through the emotions threatening to drown them both. “Your brother m-made the ultimate sacrifice and saved billions of innocent souls. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I, for one, am grateful. I know how hard this life can be. I lost a brother, too. And more friends than I care to count.”

She removed her hand from his and Dean immediately missed it, the softness, the warmth, the human connection, that he had been craving. Shaking his head, Dean wiped his face, knowing his emotions had betrayed him and cleared his throat before he spoke, attempting to sound stronger than he felt. His voice was barely audible as he growled. “What am I supposed to do now? You seem to know everything about me, so tell me, Red, what am I supposed to do now?”

He looked down, trying to avoid her gaze, but not entirely able to. Her eyes were blue, ocean blue, bright and sparkling, and he couldn’t keep away, like a moth to the flame. Instead of answering his questions, she stood, boxing up the remaining slices. “Come on, let’s go back to my place, away from the prying eyes of the Giggle Twins. I will explain it all to you, in time.”

Twenty minutes later, they rolled down her driveway, and Dean put Baby into park, got out and opened the back door to grab the pie. As he turned to walk toward her house, Annaleigh flung herself against him, one hand on the back of his neck, standing on her tiptoes and slowly pulling him down to her. She leaned in and closed her eyes as she gently pressed up on her toes, inching closer to him than she had been so far. She opened her eyes, lashes fluttering as she gazed upon his face.

As she pulled back, he could see her face clearly, a small smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. She placed her hand in his, then grabbed the pie and ran off towards her massage studio at the back of her property, laughing maniacally. Dean just stood there, stunned, and shook his head, silently wondering what he had gotten himself into by agreeing to take this hunt. His body tingled from the feel of her pressed against him, as if he could still feel her softness, and smell the lingering chocolate in the air.

Dean followed after her slowly, not sure what his next move should be or even if there should be a next move. He vaguely remembered arriving three days ago, wanting to get out of this town as fast as possible after the case, but now, he wasn’t so sure.

By the time he made his way into Annaleigh’s studio, she had changed into a bright blue tank top and leggings. She was standing at the counter, pouring whiskey into two glasses, hips swaying slightly to some country music she had turned on. Dean didn’t recognize the tune, but he wasn’t totally against country music. Bobby was like a father to him, and he had played it enough that Dean had gotten used to it over the years. It wouldn’t be his first choice but then again, this wasn’t his car where he picked the music. Here, he was not the driver, so he kept his mouth shut.

Dean slid off his suit jacket and laid it on the counter behind her. He loosened his tie and walked around the small island until he was standing directly behind Annaleigh. Without thinking, he gently placed his hands on her hips and lowered himself enough so his head rested on her shoulder. With a low chuckle, Dean snaked one hand around her waist and grabbed a glass. He brought it to his lips and took a nice long drink of the warm amber liquid.

Dean glanced around the studio she had converted on her property and admired what she had done with it. It was petite, but charming, like her. There were a couple of stools around the island, a waiting area of sorts. Wandering the space, he took in the small touches that she had added, while she continued swaying and singing softly in the small kitchenette. In the back corner was a bedroom that she had converted into a massage room. Dean pushed the door open and walked inside. Candles flickered, bathing the room in a soft glow, scented lightly of flowers and fruit; subtle, but comforting.

“Take your clothes off and get on the table face down.”

Dean jumped a little as he heard her voice behind him. “I didn’t peg you as a Dom, Red. But I have to admit, I kinda like it,” he replied as he turned around and untucked his shirt, a smirk playing on his face.

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Soul to Souls tags: @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @iwantthedean @jensengirl83 @deanwanddamons @smol-and-grumpy @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean @princessmisery666 @spnbaby-67 @shy-violet-soul @lastcallatrockysbar @winchesterxfamilybusiness @fangirlxwritesx67��

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean x annaleigh #dean x ofc #dean winchester x ofc #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

A Unique Birthday Cake

This is for @marvelinsanity . Sua, I wish you the happiest of birthday wishes! I hope you have an amazing day despite our unfortunate circumstances. Ily! Thanks for always being so inclusive and friendly!

Please send her some wishes tmrw, everyone! She is truly an amazing person!

I know your birthday is tomorrow, but I just couldn’t wait hehehe. Don’t worry, I’m gonna post your request and a lil something else tomorrow too ≧◡≦

(I swear I’m done bothering you after that lol)

Please pardon any mistakes, I’m half asleep.

This morning Wanda and Nat came bursting into your room at the ungodly hour of 7 am. To some, 7 am wasn’t early, but try having a pre-birthday dinner with the Avengers the night before and then we'll talk.

“(y/n) c’mon get up! We are going birthday shopping!”

You tiredly groaned and covered your head with Steve’s vacant pillow, in hopes of shunning the overly-peppy women away. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate their kind gesture, but birthday shopping was the last thing on your to do list, more in favor of getting some shut-eye.

“Nat, Wanda. I love you both, I do, but pleaseeee let me sleep.” Silence now filled the room and you assumed they had gotten the message.

Apparently you thought wrong.

Natasha then pried the pillow from your deathly grip while Wanda pulled back the bed covers, making you shiver, covered in nothing more than shorts and t-shirt. Steve must’ve set the thermostat to polar again.

Not all us can be fine while in the ice for seventy years, sir.

“We got teaaaa.” That’s all it took. Wanda’s tempting offer made you hop up from the bed. You passed them and made a beeline straight for the kitchen, not caring about your messy appearance.

Before you made it four steps out the door, Natasha grabbed you by the shoulders, turning you to look at her and Wanda.

“Oops, forgot to mention you have to get ready first!” Her smirk made you sick, as you scowled at her, pouting like a child on your way to the bathroom, complying to their orders.

“You two are cruel.”

Wanda and Natasha then high fived at their small victory, actually heading to the kitchen to make you tea, for real this time. By 9 am, the three of you had already made it out of the compound and to the bustling and ever famous, 5th Avenue. In all your years spent in New York, not once had you stepped foot on 5th Avenue. When you made your confession to Wanda and Natasha, you were sure they’d die right on the spot. So now, you three giddy women went to all the fancy and exquisite stores, not actually buying but just looking for your own entertainment.

You hadn’t known, but Wanda and Natasha were helping out Steve who was planning his very own surprise for your birthday.

“Guys, be serious.” Steve was now using his Captain voice, he clearly meant business.

“We’re listening, Cap.” Directly across the island counter, Bucky, Sam stood, trying to contain their laughter once more.

“How the hell do we make this cake?” Bucky just lost it at Steve’s truly innocent question. Sam quickly shot his arm out to steady the cackling man.

“Ok, whew. Step aside. Let the pros show ya.” At the confident remark from his friend, Steve stepped aside in surrender allowing the men to do their thing.

If you are wondering how Steve got here, it all started last week.

You were in the compound kitchen, helping Sam prepare a last minute dinner since it was his night to cook. The whole team had just gotten back from a long and draining mission, especially looking forward to a home-cooked meal. Unfortunately, the compound’s pantry was completely desolate, leaving Sam completely clueless as to what to do for dinner that night. Just as Sam was about to dial takeout, you and Steve strolled in. The two of you were now in a much more jovial mood after getting cleaned up and basking in the feeling of being home.

“Hey Sammy, whatcha cookin’?”

The distressed man then flung you the ragged Chinese menu and a frown made home on your face.

“Hold that thought, because there has to be something.”

When Sam didn’t get the message, you walked up to him and took the phone, ending the call.

“Why’d you do that!”

“Because we will find something to eat.”

While you and Sam had your own staring contest, Steve wandered off to the pantry, checking its contents for himself.

“Hey doll! There’s some bread in here, and a few cans of tomato soup.”

You looked away from Sam and ran to Steve.

“You're a lifesaver, babe!” Swiftly, you pecked him on the cheek, swiping the cans of soup from his arms.

“Now if we have some cheese, I’m sure we can make some grilled cheese sandwiches.” At your appeasing offer, Sam visibly brightened up.

“Sam, can you start the soup while Steve and I make the sandwiches?”

And needless to say, everything went smoothly, that is until you let Steve cook one sandwich and he burnt it to charcoal.

How that happened, you have no clue.

In the kindest way possible, you let him down gently, because he was trying his best. A sullen look crossed his face and you felt like you had just smacked a baby. Without second thought, you got on tippy toes to deeply kiss him trying to give some reassurance.

“Cooking is a tough science, don’t sweat it, darling.”

So maybe he couldn’t scramble an egg, but he sure as hell would try to learn. With your challenge still fresh in his mind, Steve thought making a birthday cake for you would be none other than the best time to show off his baking skills. That man was never one to cower down from a challenge.

Now here he was, staring at the cake recipe as if he were trying to escape Alcatraz. One word came to Steve’s mind when he thought about either. Impossible.

“You good, buddy?” Bucky looked over to Steve whose eyes were locked onto the piece of paper, clenched tightly in his hand.

“It can’t be that hard right?”

Sam and Bucky just looked at each other shrugging.

“For gosh sakes, you can fight Hydra, but the big scary cake monster is deathly terrifying?”

In mock horror, Sam brought his hands to his face, mimicking a shocked look. Steve just rolled his eyes and playfully slapped Sam on the shoulder.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

That was three hours ago.

In such a short time the men managed to make a complete mess. When Bucky said pros, Steve really should’ve known better.

The kitchen was completely dusted in the white, snow-like, flour. Sugar nestled within the powder while vanilla extract absentmindedly flowed off the counter and to the floor. Up against the oven, Sam slumped over and across from him at the sink, Bucky was trying to wash cake batter out of his hair. Steve just looked in utter shock at the scene, it looked like a war zone, and he’s seen plenty of those.

Oh and the cake…

Can it even classify as a cake?

Because from where Steve was standing, it looked like pizza dough. The whole way through Sam kept reprimanding that it’d look better in the end, decorated in frosting, but my god there was no saving this… creature.

“So about what I said earlier,” Steve looked over to see Sam staring at the ground, obviously contemplating his life choices, “I’d like to revoke my statement.”

Hell, they’d gotten this far.

Steve walked over to the frosting, which, thank the heavens, was store bought. Completely traumatized and absorbed in the whole situation, he just lathered on all the frosting. With a gel icing, he carefully penned out your name and ‘Happy Birthday’.

Really the only thing going for that “cake” was his neat penmanship.

So maybe you were right.

Unfortunately it was too late to order a real cake. Steve would just have to face the consequences and cross his fingers that you wouldn’t break up with him.

By time Wanda and Natasha had ushered you home, it was 4 pm. Today you were just so caught up in all the fun that you completely forgot about Steve which made you feel terrible. Knowing Steve, he went all out for your birthday, you just hoped you hadn’t ruined it.

As you walked into the compound, everything seemed perfectly normal, which quite frankly kind of disappointed you, until you rounded the corner to the kitchen. The lights were off, but soon came on when Sam, Bucky and Steve popped up around the table, presenting a... dough ball????

You got closer and realized it was a cake. Or was supposed to be.

“Please don't break up with me, doll.” Steve nervously bit his lip and you reached up to stop him, then full on laughing, grabbing his broad shoulders for support.

“Oh Stevie! Don’t be so dramatic. I’m actually really looking forward to what happened.”

Steve then pulled out your chair as everyone else settled around the table, where the dough baby idly was set upon.

The three men told of their tale while you ladies laughed over ice cream, a quick solution thanks to Wanda.

Sam and Bucky continued to tell their more animated version of the story, while Steve leaned close to you, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist with lips pressed to your temple.

“Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.”

#steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine

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lo-mindpalace · 4 years

Text

10 - Sweet Rides

(BOBBY’S POV)

“What am I supposed to do? They’re your kids, John.” I said.

“Bobby… Dean is 10 and Sammy’s 6. I can’t let them go with me on this case.”

“That’s why I’m saying they are your kids. They are more important than this case! Come on, let me go there instead of you. Stay at my place with the boys.”

“No. Maybe it’s a lead to the son of a bitch who killed Mary. That’s MY case.”

I raised my hands and shook my head in disapproval. John looked at me with dead eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? I wanted to tell him so many things. About how it was wrong to leave his sons alone while he was off hunting like a desperate man. I met his boys in February 1989. And now this was the fifth time I saw them and 1989 wasn’t even finished. I began to understand that John was turning me into a nanny or something like that. This was wrong. I like the boys but John is the father for God’s sake. I was about to tell something and I felt Dean’s little hands gripping my pants and looking at his father while standing behind me.

“Where are you going, Dad?”

“I have to go to work, Dean. You stay with Bobby and you take care of Sammy, understand?”

“Yes, Sir…”

John looked at me and nodded. I was still shaking my head in disapproval, my angry gaze stabbing John’s empty shell. Idjit. Such an Idjit. He left without words and didn’t even turn around when Dean called him one last time. I saw the little boy’s sad face and closed the door. I was about to say something but I heard a big noise in the kitchen as if something very fragile had fallen. Dean’s eyes widened and he ran into the room.

“SAMMY!”

I followed Dean and saw shard of glasses which belonged to an old bottle of vodka. Sam was standing next to it, his face full of fear. Dean rushed into his brother and checked on him.

“You’re okay, Sammy? Are you hurt somewhere?”

“Mh-no…” Sam said, tears beginning to fill his eyes. “I just wanted to drink water…”

“That’s not water, Sam. That’s alcohol. You can’t drink that, it’s forbidden, okay?”

“I’m thirsty… Where is daddy…? I want to go home…”

The poor kid was about to cry but Dean hugged him and dried his little brother’s tears.

“Sammy, look at me… Look at me.” Dean said softly. “Dad is working. So, we have to stay at Bobby’s. I know it’s a weird place without any toys but we will find games to play, alright?”

I rolled my eyes when Dean mentioned how weird my place was. Well, it was obviously weird because it wasn’t meant for kids. I sighed and told the boys to go to the living room while I was cleaning what remained of the poor bottle of vodka. I had to find something to keep the boys’ poor minds busy. I looked at the pile of mails and flyers and saw that a gathering of old cars – with activities such as car rodeos or rallies – was taking place in Sioux Falls today. What a lucky dude I was. I took the paper and went to the living room. I crouched in front of Sam and Dean.

“Look boys, I know there is nothing to do here but… What about going there?” I asked while giving Dean the paper. “It’s a gathering of old cars and there are a lot of things to do there.”

“But Dad said we had to stay here…” Dean said while pouting.

“Well, John’s not here so I am technically in charge of you boys. I am the one who can decide.”

Dean seemed to hesitate. He kept looking at the paper before looking at Sam.

“Do you want to see old and sweet rides, Sammy?”

“Like the one daddy has?”

“Yes, even older!”

“I would love to.” Sam said with a big smile.

Sam gave me a beautiful smile and I admit I couldn’t resist to this angelic face. Damn, John, you should see your boys right now.

* * *

The sun was up in the sky and Sam and Dean were over excited. “Look, Sammy” Dean was repeating to his brother, showing him all the cars. I had a beer in my hand and I put mini sandwiches and a bottle of water in a bag for the boys. They were running everywhere like little fireballs and it was hard to keep an eye on them. But I managed to do my best unlike John. I like him, but he is irresponsible with his children.

Sam and Dean were looking at old cars. I even told them that my first car was this old Studebaker lark from 1960 but mine was greener. Dean was beginning to be an expert in cars, like his father, and Sam was paying attention to each word Dean was saying, without really understanding but seeing his old brother that enthusiastic made little Sammy happy. After a moment I called them to come watch the car rodeo. When they arrived on the platform, I gave them the sandwiches and the water and they sat quietly, Sam swinging his legs happily. It was like they never went to these kinds of events and at this thought, I was a bit sad. Poor kids. They deserve a normal life. During the car rodeo, Dean was shouting like a cowboy or something, whereas Sam was snuggling a bit against me.

“Are they hurt? The people inside the cars?” He said with a bit shaky voice.

“Don’t worry, Kid. That’s their job, it’s a show.” I said, reassuring him. “You don’t like it?”

“Not really but Dean is very happy so that is making me happy too.”

I smiled a little bit. Those brothers were very close. Dean was everything to Sam and that pinched my heart a bit.

“Okay, let’s say that car rodeo is Dean’s entertainment. What do you want after this? For your entertainment?”

Sam pouted while thinking.

“Fireworks…?”

“Mh, I think the fireworks are later after this show. But we will stay to see them.”

“Thanks Uncle Bobby.” Sam said with a smile.

I raised my eyebrows at the nickname. I swear, those kids were making my grumpy ass very soft. Sam stayed close to me the entire show, eating his sandwich. At the end of the rodeo, we went for a walk, in order to stretch our legs. We wandered around the cars until we found a good spot to see the fireworks. It was already getting late and Sammy was being impatient. After an hour, the first firework exploded in the sky. Sam’s eyes were shining and he was captivated by the colors. During this moment, Dean came closer to me and held my hand. I lowered my eyes and looked at him, a bit surprised by his movement. He looked at me too, smiling.

“Thank you, Bobby. That was a beautiful day…”

“You’re welcome Kid. I know my place can be boring for two children, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I understand that you are not supposed to keep us. But it’s nice to do it anyway.”

My face saddened a bit.

“I will buy some stuff for you boys just in case you are staying again.”

“I really want that…”

“Want… the stuff?” I said arching an eyebrow.

“No… I really want to go to your house again with Sammy. To go to see sweet rides, going to a restaurant, walking around Sioux Falls or just playing hide-and-seek in the scrap yard. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I really don’t mind, Dean.”

“But… You seemed to hate that when Dad told you to keep an eye on us.” Dean said looking at me.

I sighed. Damn, this kid is a good observer for a ten-year-old boy.

“Yes, well… John is your father. He is supposed to take care of you. Not me… But… I won’t leave you and your brother alone. So, I’ll do your father’s ‘job’.”

“… You are a great father… Uncle… Whatever…”

No words would come out. I looked at Dean and tightened my hand around his. He is such a good kid. He and his brother. Such good kids. I looked at Sam and then the fireworks, enjoying this moment with my two little boys.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hope you liked it. I admit I’m pretty proud about this one... Bobby is one of my fav characters (along with Cas) ♥

#suptober20 #supernatural #sweet rides #bobby singer #john winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #young dean winchester #young sam winchester #john winchester is an asshole

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Seeing Double (Part 2)

Summary: After the Winchesters show up at Jensen’s apartment, they discover getting the boys home may not be possible...

Part 1

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Alpha!Jensen (platonic, brotherly relationship)

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language

________

“Ow,” said Dean, Danneel pulling back into a corner of the kitchen, hiding behind a cup of coffee and Jensen. “Why’d she pinch me?”

“I was really hoping I was going crazy,” she said, resting her head against Jensen’s back with a sigh. “Maybe there’s a gas leak…”

“They’re real,” said Jensen, running his hands over his face, shaking his head at Sam. “At least Sam’s babysitting the kids so we can sort this out.”

“Uh huh,” she said, setting her coffee down and going back to Dean, leaning into his face.

“Hey, you look like that dick angel that screwed us over. Sister Jo,” frowned Dean, squinting at her.

“Excuse me?” she said with a scoff, Jensen grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back.

“She acts too. If you see somebody that looks like Ruby, don’t go stabbing her either,” said Jensen, sighing loudly. “You guys are great and everything but can you like...not be here?”

“Ah. So when you come to our universe you expect a little hospitality but when we get here-“

“Point made,” said Jensen, glancing around the apartment. “What do we do with them?”

“Well I’m supposed to fly home with the kids today,” said Danneel. “You have to be at work in like an hour.”

“Hey, Sammy and I are big boys. We don’t need a babysitter,” said Dean.

“Oh, yes you do,” said Jensen, grabbing Dean’s jacket collar, getting a nasty glare in return. “You guys are...you’re different, remember?”

“Oh. You’re worried-“

“There is no ‘Dean’s whiny juice’ here,” said Jensen. “I know everything now so-“

“Could someone explain what you’re talking about?” asked Danneel.

“In a minute,” said Dean, shifting in his seat. “I gotta use your bathroom.”

“Down the hall,” said Jensen. Dean got up from his seat, Sam wandering over. “Thanks for taking the brunt of the three musketeers this morning.”

“They’re cute. I could kind of hear what you were talking about and I should tell you-“

“What happened?” said Dean, storming out of the bathroom. “What...I can’t...there’s not...I am an Alpha!”

“Different universe,” said Sam with a shrug. “I’m not happy either but I sort of like it.”

“Again, someone clue me in please.”

“Okay,” said Danneel, nodding her head after a moment. “Okay. I’m not okay but okay.”

“Can they just hide in the apartment until we figure something out?” asked Jensen.

“Fine,” she said. “Don’t break anything and I swear if you two bring any freaky stuff in here-“

“Yes mam,” said Sam.

“If you two are gonna be here, at least help De out with packing up the kids for their flight,” said Jensen. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Going to work, actor boy?” teased Dean. “We’ll hold down the fort for you.”

“Just do what she tells you and you’ll be fine.”

“Rough morning?” said Jared, patting Jensen’s back in the lunch line. “You look like you’re having a day.”

“That’s a word for it,” grumbled Jensen, Jared chuckling. “What?”

“We should go out tonight for dinner. Neither one of us have early call times tomorrow,” said Jared.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Jensen.

“Fine. I’ll come over and we’ll order something,” said Jared.

“I’d rather...fuck. If De knows then Gen is gonna know soon and you might as well hear it from me,” said Jensen.

“Hear what?” asked Jared.

“Well…”

“No way,” said Jared, poking Sam in the chest that night.

“Why’s he poking me?” asked Sam, Jared doing it again.

“Because he’s excited. Jared,” said Jensen, Jared pulling his hand back. “I don’t know what to do with these guys.”

“Just let us head on over to the bunker, we do the spell and then we’re back where we belong,” said Dean.

“The bunker doesn’t exist, just like magic doesn’t exist,” said Jensen. Dean scoffed, waving him off. “Well you’re not an Alpha here so it’s not a far stretch to say magic doesn't either.”

“I am an Alpha, whether I got the equipment or not,” said Dean, glaring at Jensen.

“Well this is my house, Alpha,” said Jensen, Dean taking a big whiff of the air. “And?”

“You don’t smell like anything,” said Dean, putting his hand on his head as he walked away. “Sammy-”

“Hey, at least we won’t get ruts here,” said Sam.

“I want to go home,” said Dean, looking around. “Our home. You understand that, Jenny.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass you call me Jenny again, Deanie,” said Jensen with a smile.

“Maybe we let them try to get back and do their spell. It doesn’t hurt to try,” said Jared. Jensen shrugged, Sam seeming to have an easier time with this than his brother. “Hey, uh, why don’t we order some pizzas and have some beers? Jens and I don’t have work until 11.”

“Whatever,” said Dean, slumping over to a corner of Jensen’s couch, Sam giving them both a smile and look that said he was sorry.

“Hey dude,” said Jensen after Jared had gone home and Sam was passed out in the guest room, snoring away. Dean hummed from the couch, mindlessly watching something on TV. “You doing okay?”

“No,” said Dean quietly. “You know how fucked up I am, Jensen. Like, possibly even better than Sam. The Alpha thing, I know it’s not a big deal or it shouldn’t be but it feels like I lost a part of me. At least as an Alpha, I had a pack and was pack leader to Sam and that meant something, you know? I was important to him.”

“You’re still important, Dean,” said Jensen, taking a seat nearby. “Your brother loves you. Trust me. Jared ain’t even related to me and he loves me. He’s my brother.”

“Yeah but you’re normal. You can make friends and have a wife and kids. If we’re stuck here, I’m sure Sammy will find a sweet girl and it’ll all be fine. I’m...I’m screwed up. I wouldn’t put that on anyone but at least with hunting, I was doing some good. Now I got nothing,” said Dean.

“You could get a job that helps people,” said Jensen, Dean rolling his eyes. “Dude, if you’re stuck, I got your back. The whole family does.”

“Okay, enough with the nice guy schtick, alright?” he said.

“I had to go through crap and you guys took care of me. Now it’s my turn,” said Jensen. “And I am nice, asshole.”

“You are the weirdest friend I’ve ever had,” said Dean.

“I certainly hope so as your fucking twin from another universe I win the weirdest fucking friend award,” said Jensen. Dean chuckled, rubbing his hand against his head. “I thought I talked to you about this self-deprecating stuff back in your universe.”

“You did. I just don’t listen well,” said Dean with a shrug.

“You got that right. You ate my ice cream. I was looking forward to eating that like all freaking day,” said Jensen.

“Yeah but dude, it was triple fudge,” said Dean. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Well lucky for you, I got a secret stash in the-”

“Box of frozen veggies? Yeah, I use that trick on Sam at home. Sorry bud,” said Dean, Jensen staring at him slack jawed.

“I hate you and respect you at the same time,” said Jensen.

“Just being a good house guest,” said Dean with a smirk. “You probably need some shut eye, you look pretty wrecked.”

“Yeah, long day,” said Jensen, running his hands over his face. “Long few days. I need to head home this weekend, just relax.”

“Kansas?” asked Dean.

“Texas,” he said.

“Eh, good enough. At least you didn’t say LA,” said Dean.

“Goodnight, asshole,” said Jensen, ruffling Dean’s head as he walked past.

“You too, Jensen.”

Friday Afternoon

Jensen only had a half day at work, standing in his apartment with his bag to fly home for the weekend around lunchtime. Jared got a flight out the night before and he and Sam had become best buds. Sam was easily adjusting to the situation far better than Dean. Sam didn’t seem to care so much about no longer being an Alpha and had already taken to cleaning Jensen’s apartment more than once, cooking dinner for him when he got home, trying to be helpful like Jensen had when he was at their place.

Jensen could see Dean wasn’t doing well though, Sam exchanging glances with Jensen every so often, not quite sure what to do about it. All he did was sit in Jensen’s apartment, watch TV and drink Jensen’s alcohol.

“Hey uh, guys?” said Jensen, both brothers spinning around on the couch. “I’m going to head out for the weekend. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“We’re not children, Jenny,” said Dean, spinning back around.

“I’m still older than you, Deanie,” said Jensen, lightly smacking Dean’s arm as he walked over. “You guys got any plans?”

“Besides the fact we’re trapped in this universe forever? No, no plans,” said Dean.

“Sam, you do that thing I asked you to do?” asked Jensen. Sam smiled and nodded. “Good. Get your asses up then. We’re going to Texas.”

“What?” said Dean.

“Jensen thought it’d be a good idea if I made up some fake ID’s for us, just in case. Shockingly easy to hack into systems in this universe,” said Sam.

“I don’t need to know that,” said Jensen as he shut his eyes, flashing them open. “Well, give Dean his new passport and license. I got extra plane tickets. Whatever you guys need, we’ll grab in Texas.”

“Here,” said Sam, fishing a new wallet and a little book out of his pocket, handing it to Dean.

“Dean Ackles. Seriously?” said Dean.

“I’m sorry. I have a potentially recognizable face, so does Jared. You guys have to be fake twins to us here,” said Jensen.

“Sammy and I can’t even be brothers?” said Dean, scrunching up his face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m getting you out of this apartment, back in a country you know, a part of the country you know,” said Dean.

“Oh? And what do we say when you guys both suddenly have identical twins,” said Dean.

“That you’re very private people. Hey, I got other siblings, so does Jare. We keep stuff outside of wives and kids pretty tight vested. It’s easy enough to pull off,” said Jensen. “Once you get in the states...it’ll be good for you. I swear.”

“At least I don’t have to be Sam Padaleski,” mumbled Dean.

“Padalacki,” said Sam.

“Pada...whatever,” said Jensen, rolling his eyes. “Just keep your mouth shut through security and for the love of god, do not do anything that gets us in trouble. Only Jared and I know about this right now. I don’t need my parents finding out they had another ‘son’ from airport security.”

Jensen saw the guys relax a bit once they were in Texas. It was somewhat familiar, both of them amazed at where Jensen lived, Jensen gripping the steering wheel tight every time one made a comment about “rich” people. Jensen arguably owned enough flannel to be a Winchester himself.

“Hi daddy,” said JJ when Jensen got out of his truck, Jensen scooping her up in a hug.

“Hi honey,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “What are you doing outside all by yourself?”

“Mommy said I could,” said JJ, pointing through the window to the kitchen, Danneel giving Jensen a smile. “Hi Uncle Sam and Dean!”

“Hey, kiddo,” said Sam, JJ turning her attention to Dean.

“Hi, JJ,” said Dean softly.

“You guys gonna stay for dinner?” she asked.

“Yup. They’re going to stay with us for a while,” said Jensen, grabbing his bag from the trunk. “Come on boys. De’s friday night meals are always the best.”

“This is amazing,” said Dean, Danneel chuckling as he worked on his third plate of food, Jensen taking the opportunity to spend some playtime with the kids.

When he returned, the boys were washing up the dishes, Danneel sitting at the counter with a smile.

“I like them. I think we should keep them,” said Danneel teasingly.

“I think we have to,” mumbled Jensen, Danneel staring up at him. He sighed and hopped up on the counter, holding her hand as the guys finished loading up the dishwasher. “I think...I think it’s time we got realistic about the chances of you guys going back to your own universe.”

“I told you he just brought us down here to ditch us,” said Dean.

“I brought you down here so you don’t sit in that apartment all day. This is our home and it’s private. Go outside, take a swim, get your head on straight. You both have to accept that these are your lives now. It’s all our lives,” said Jensen.

“What do you mean?” said Sam, taking a seat at the other counter.

“I mean if I was a normal guy, Jared was a normal guy, we could let you slip away just fine. Start over however you want. We don’t get that option. In public, you have to be an Ackles and you have to be a Padalecki. You have to be our brothers,” said Jensen.

“How the hell are we going to pull that off?” scoffed Dean.

“We’d have to get the family on board with it,” said Danneel. “Although your dad would probably be the only really hard sell if you think about it.”

“No! We’re not-”

“Dean,” said Jensen. “Listen. We-”

“Oh shit,” said Danneel when the garage door opened. “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?” said Jensen, wide eyed when he saw his dad round the corner and pause, blinking at the scene in front of him. “You forgot my dad was stopping over!”

“He was driving up from Houston after a small gig there earlier today. I told him he could crash here tonight, surprise you,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“Well. I am surprised,” said Jensen’s dad.

“Uh,” said Jensen, quickly hopping off the counter. “I uh…”

His father walked past him and stepped over to Dean, holding up a finger and poking Dean in the chest. He did the same to Sam, staring back at Dean.

“You’re the Winchesters,” said Jensen’s dad.

“Exactly!” said Jensen, his dad holding up a hand.

“I ain’t convinced I haven’t gone insane so give me a second, kiddo,” he said. He tilted Dean’s chin up, Dean glancing at Danneel who just shrugged, Dean swallowing when Jensen’s father flicked him in the side of the head.

“Ow,” said Dean, rubbing his temple.

“Alright. I’m Alan,” he said to Sam and Dean, turning his attention to Jensen. “What is happening?”

“Honestly? It’s a long story,” he said.

“Well start talking before I call your mother to have us all committed.”

“Well…” said Dean, sharing the bottle of bourbon Jensen had gotten out long ago with him. “Your dad seems really nice.”

“Give me,” said Alan, stealing the bottle away and whacking both Dean and Jensen on the back of the head.

“Dad,” whined Jensen, pouting when his father scowled.

“This is weird enough and we don’t need you two drunk,” he said. “Now sit back down.”

“Forget what I said,” mumbled Dean.

“I heard that,” said Alan.

“Well I ain’t your kid,” said Dean.

“Do I need to have this conversation with you too?” said Alan, staring at Sam. He shook his head, Danneel quickly skirting out of there with Sam to go hide in the living room. “Listen up. My kid is the one helping you. He could leave you and your brother to figure out this world on your own but guess what? He’s not. He’s choosing the hard thing because it’s what’ll probably help you the most. But if you don’t want it, there’s the door.”

“Dad, there isn’t really an alternative,” said Jensen. “Not unless they live in a shack the rest of their lives.”

“Fine with me,” he said.

“Dad,” said Jensen.

“Why should we do all this, drag the whole family, drag Jared’s whole family, through a big lie for someone who’s going to be ungrateful about it?” he said.

“Because it’s Dean and he’s not exactly open about this stuff,” said Jensen. “I have been playing him on TV for years. I have a good idea of how his head works.”

“I ain’t convinced. Get out,” said Alan.

“Dean, stay,” said Jensen, lifting his chin. “This is my house.”

“I’m not going to lie about having another son if he doesn't want it,” he said.

“I was stuck there in their world, dad. Trapped. Sam and Dean helped me,” said Jensen. “And what the hell is this all of a sudden? We help people when we can, that’s how you raised us. We’re good people and you’re acting like a dick.”

“You want the whole family to lie? For him?” asked his dad.

“Yes,” said Jensen. “For both of them.”

“Why?” said Alan.

“Because no one ever did a thing for them. The show was real for them, their actual lives. They deserve another shot, a shot at normal where they don’t have to hide,” said Jensen. “Please.”

“Good boy,” he said softly. Jensen scrunched up his face, tilting his head and glancing at Dean. “Hey, I already knew I was going to do it. I wanted to know why you wanted to.”

“Dickhead,” mumbled Jensen, his dad ruffling his hair.

“Whine like that and I’ll let Dean be the older twin,” said Alan with a chuckle.

“No!” said Jensen. “I’m older!”

“Do I get a say in this? Like at all?” said Dean. Alan shrugged.

“Technically you are younger,” he said.

“In this world, jerkface,” said Dean. Alan nodded and curled his finger.

“Let’s go have a chat outside,” he said. Dean huffed but followed after him, Jensen sighing when he found Danneel and Sam hanging out in the living room.

“I’m sorry about Dean,” said Sam, giving Jensen a smile. “He really does appreciate everything. I think the Alpha thing is really messing with him. He was head of the pack after our dad died and being head Alpha is a big deal in our world. I mean, take Dean with all his normal crap and add this on top of it.”

“I know,” said Jensen, plopping down next to Danneel, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Are only boys Alphas?” she asked, Jensen smiling up at her. Sam chuckled a little and shook his head.

“No. Pretty sure if she wasn’t an Alpha, she’d be the feistiest Omega I ever met though,” said Dean, rounding the corner with Jensen’s dad. “So yeah, chicks can totally be Alphas. A bit rarer though.”

“Well, I’m heading to bed kids. I’ll see you all in the morning, figure out how the hell to tell your mother we have another kid,” said Jensen’s dad, rubbing the back of his neck. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” said Danneel, giving Dean a smile. “So…”

“Can I talk to Sammy alone?” asked Dean.

“Yeah. We uh...we only got the one guest room but there’s plenty of couches around,” said Jensen, Dean smiling.

“Dude, it’s okay,” he said. “Uh, mind showing us? This’ll probably be a while. We got a lot to talk through. Brother to brother.”

Jensen nodded and played good host, showing them the bedroom and bathroom they could use, finding some extra sheets and pillows for Dean and setting them down in the room.

“De and I are just off the front door, other side of the house,” said Jensen, turning to leave.

“Hey, twin,” said Dean, Jensen glancing over his shoulder. “Call up Jared. Us four got a lot to talk about.”

“Honey?” asked Danneel, Jensen crawling into bed in the middle of the night. “What’s up with the boys?”

“We’re going to do it. Fake us both having twin brothers,” said Jensen. “I can’t believe this is our life now.”

“Hey, you always wanted the Winchesters to have a family,” she said.

“I didn’t think it’d literally be our family, De,” said Jensen, throwing an arm over her. “Why’d you ask about the Alpha stuff earlier?”

“Dean’s having a hard time, I want to help him if I can,” she said.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

“Yo,” said Jensen, hopping out of his car on the way home from the airport, making a quick pit stop at the brewery. Dean gave him a nod, setting a sack of hops down. “De got you put to work good this week I heard.”

“I don’t care what happened in my universe. Both of you there at the same time, she’s so the Alpha out of you two,” said Dean.

“Eh, being an Omega’s not so bad, right?” said Jensen.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded you being the one that popped out the twins,” said Dean with a laugh.

“You’re joking,” said Jensen.

“Remember that sex ed book? Nope,” said Dean.

“Where…” said Jensen, Dean glancing around Jensen. “No way.”

“Yup,” said Dean, sighing when he heard Danneel tutting behind him. “Gettin’ me in trouble with the boss lady already.”

“Boys,” said Danneel, a smile in her voice. “Jensen, Dean. This is Ana. Today’s her first day. She’s going to be helping out in the office, events, odds and ends. Ana, this is Jensen.”

“Hello sir,” she said, giving Jensen a handshake.

“Oh god, I’m your boss but please don’t ever call me sir again,” said Jensen with a smile. “We’re sort of a bunch of goofballs around here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, turning to Dean. “Hi.”

“Hi,” said Dean, staring at her as she held out her hand. Jensen saw Dean blank out for a second, shaking his head and quickly accepting the handshake. “Dean.”

“Like Dean Winchester?” she said with a little laugh. Dean shook his head, dropping his face away after a moment. “Sorry.”

“No, no...you’re uh…” said Dean, Jensen catching a bit of flush in his cheeks.

“Let’s introduce you to everyone else and then Dean can be your training buddy for the day. He just started this week too,” said Danneel.

“Okay. Bye Jensen. Dean,” said Ana, giving them both a smile as she left with Danneel.

“She was cute,” said Jensen, Dean shrugging. “Dude.”

“Maybe...she was a little cute,” mumbled Dean.

“Too bad you were too busy trying not to blush you didn’t notice she was doing it too,” said Jensen.

“She did not,” said Dean.

“Gonna have to find out for yourself, Deanie,” teased Jensen.

“Eh, go screw yourself, Jenny,” said Dean.

“Love you too. Brother,” said Jensen with a laugh, pausing when he caught Dean’s face. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s...it’s not you. S’just weird,” said Dean. “I used to know a girl in my world, looked just like her.”

“Really?” said Jensen, turning around, catching the Danneel and Ana walk out of the back of the brewery.

“It was when Sammy was in college. I was working this hunt, a little big for me to be working on my own. I met this hunter, was going to work it with him, my dad gave him a call. The guy was a bit of an ass. He said ‘his girl’ would show me the ropes. He left and this chick, ain’t even old enough to drink, she walks in the bar, orders a beer, tells them I’m paying for it, knocks it back and then tells me to get my perky ass going cause we got a restless spirit to take care of. I thought she was a bit of an ass like her old man but it was a front, we all got fronts in that world. She was stitching up my arm in my motel room when it was finished, had this cute little smile and bam, her heat hits. She’s freaking out because it’s way off schedule and then bam, my rut hits and that’s way off schedule too and we realize...true mates,” said Dean with a smirk. “I actually had an Omega. Can you believe that?”

“That’s great man,” said Jensen, already having an idea of where this story was going.

“You’re the first person I ever told that to. Not even Sammy knows I had a mate,” said Dean, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t even a hunt that got her. A silly car accident. We barely got a few months together.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine,” said Jensen.

“No,” said Dean. “You can’t.”

“I can ask De to keep her away if-”

“No, no. It was a long time ago. It’s not her. I’m okay, seriously,” said Dean.

“Alright,” said Jensen. “I’ll see you at home later then.”

Two Days Later

“Daddy,” said Zeppelin, tugging on Dean’s jeans, Dean giving him a smile. “Oh. Uncle De, where’s daddy?”

“He’s playing with your sisters upstairs,” said Dean. “You want to go play with them?”

“No,” he said, walking away, Danneel giving him a smile as he plopped down in the living room.

“Alright, Uncle Dean,” she said, patting Dean’s arms. “Ready for your date tonight?”

“It’s not a date,” said Dean, running his hand over the gray button down Jensen had loaned him.

“It’s so a date,” said Jensen, walking down the stairs, patting Dean’s shoulder. “Come here.”

Jensen slipped on a pair of shoes and Dean followed him outside, handing him the keys to his truck.

“This where you tell me not to screw up this poor girl,” said Dean.

“This is where I tell you...have some fun tonight. We hardly ever see you crack a smile unless you’re with the kids,” said Jensen.

“Sam’s accepted that this is where we live now. I haven’t,” said Dean. “He’s making plans for apartments and I’m up half the night researching to get back.”

“Get back to what? To getting hurt all the time? Dying? Hunting?” said Jensen.

“It’s all I got, Jensen,” said Dean. “That and being an Alpha.”

“Well you’re not an Alpha anymore. You’re Dean and you get to start over fresh, be what you want. We’ll help you with whatever you decide. But you have to live your life,” said Jensen.

“I’m too fucked up,” he said. Jensen hummed and crossed his arms.

“I see. We’re gonna have to do this the hard way,” said Jensen. Dean rolled his eyes and started to walk away. “Hey. Winchester.”

“What,” said Dean with a sigh.

“Talk with Jared sometime,” said Jensen. Dean turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Just cause we don’t fight monsters doesn’t mean we don’t have demons in this family. Talk to him tomorrow. Jared’ll be honest with you. He’ll set your head straight.”

“Why? You sick of me already?” scoffed Dean.

“Because in case you forgot,” said Jensen, stepping up to Dean’s face, “You didn’t just get me as a brother. You got Jared too. I’m good at being there but Jared...you have more in common than you think. Just talk to him for me. For Sam. Please.”

“You’re not my brother,” mumbled Dean.

“Yeah. I am,” said Jensen, Dean staring at him. “Neither one of us picked this but it’s what we got. You know, like siblings. You don’t get to pick those.”

“You’re so annoying,” said Dean.

“I”m the older brother. Of course I’m annoying,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“I was in Hell for forty years. I say that makes me older,” said Dean, narrowing his eyes as Jensen swallowed. He sighed and dropped his head. “I’m sorry. Forget I said that.”

“It’s alright,” said Jensen, digging into his back pocket and pulling out his credit card. “Have fun on your date. My treat.”

“I got a job. I can pay,” said Dean.

“Dude. Just take it. It’s your first date in this universe. It’s my treat and De ain’t gonna be happy if you say no,” said Jensen.

“Fine. It’s probably going to go horrible anyways,” he said as he took the card.

“Have fun, Dean!”

“Hey,” said Jensen when Dean walked into the kitchen the next morning, picking JJ up from her seat at the counter and sitting down, resting her in his lap. “How’d it go?”

“Good,” he yawned, JJ grabbing his cheeks. “Good morning, sweetie.”

“Uncle Dean, it’s my seat,” she said.

“Can we share?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing his shirt and tilting her head. “You got a tattoo like dad?”

“This?” he asked, glancing at Jensen when he pulled down his Henley and showed off his anti-possession tattoo.

“I only got the three, honey. Yours and the twins and the crown,” said Jensen, sliding two plates of eggs on the counter. He walked around and picked her up, plopping her in the seat next to Dean.

“Uncle Dean, are you gonna live with us forever?” asked JJ as she started to eat.

“No. Not forever,” said Dean with half a smile.

“Can you? Please?” she asked.

“I’ll stick around a while, how’s that sound?” asked Dean.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

“So how was the date?” asked Jensen.

“You know, a date,” said Dean.

“You gonna see Ana again?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Feels funny,” said Dean, wolfing down his food quickly. “I’m gonna go for a walk before it gets too hot out. I’ll see you guys.”

He stood and headed upstairs, JJ giving her father a look.

“Dad, why’s Uncle Dean so sad all the time?” she asked.

“It’s a lot of grown up stuff,” he said.

“Can you fix it?” she asked.

“Maybe. Give Uncle Dean and Sam a few extra hugs for me when you see them honey,” he said.

“You got it, dad.”

“Hey,” said Jensen, finding Dean out by Jared’s pool a few hours later. “Where’s Sam?”

“Grocery store. Gen’s bringing the kids over your place to swim,” said Jared.

“So, what? You two need a ride?” chuckled Jensen.

“No. Dean came over this morning and we’ve been talking,” said Jared. “I thought it might be good to get you involved.”

“What’s up?” asked Jensen, taking a seat on a patio chair.

“I think we all know Dean’s struggling with this...adjustment. Sam and I have noticed it and we’re sure you see it too. Add that on top of everything that these guys normally go through and this is where we end up,” said Jared.

“You okay?” asked Jensen, Dean sighing.

“In this world, you’re pack leader. Maybe you don’t realize but you are. I could get over the hunting if I could still be an Alpha, still have that,” said Dean.

“We don’t have that in our world, Dean,” said Jensen, tilting his head back. “I’m not a pack leader either. I’m part of a family, one you’re part of now. I know that this one is different than what you’re used to. I get it, man. We all do. But if you’re struggling, let us help.”

“I don’t know what I need,” said Dean.

“We don’t film until when, Tuesday afternoon?” asked Jensen after a moment.

“Nope,” said Jared, pulling out his phone. “You want me to reschedule our flight for Tuesday morning?”

“Yeah. I think a boys weekend with us and Sam is in order,” said Jensen with a smirk.

“Same place as we went last time?” asked Jared.

“Yeah. You mind getting it reserved and I’ll get these boys packed up?” said Jensen.

“Where are we going?” asked Dean as Jensen pulled him to his feet.

“Trust us. You guys will like it.”

“Nice,” said Jared when Dean reeled in a fish late that afternoon. “That’s your fourth one already.”

“Must be a better fisherman in this universe,” Dean chuckled. He unhooked the fish and dropped it back in the water, Sam sighing from the other side of the dock. “Patience, Sammy.”

“I’m getting hungry,” he said.

“Me too. Dean, how do you like your steak done?” asked Jared as he reeled in his line.

“Medium’s always good,” he said.

“Alright. You guys set the table out back and we’ll handle the food tonight,” said Jared, heading towards the small cabin with Sam.

“He a good cook?” asked Dean.

“He knows his way around a grill,” said Jensen, taking a sip of his beer. “You seem more relaxed here.”

“Not used to the real world still I suppose,” said Dean.

“Well, we rented the cabin for three weeks. You and Sam can come by anytime you want. Quiet place to be yourself,” he said.

“I like people. I want to be Dean Winchester again is all,” he said.

“You are. You’re a badass. I know that. But you gotta relax before you pop.”

“Maybe I haven’t been trying as much as I say I have been,” said Dean.

“When I was stuck, all I wanted was to go home,” said Jensen. “I understand.”

“Nothing bad happens here,” said Dean after a moment.

“Bad stuff happens. It’s not monsters that cause it is all,” said Jensen. “I think that’s what you struggle with.”

“There’s nothing for me to do here,” said Dean. “Nothing bad to stop. No pack to lead.”

“There’s plenty of bad to stop. Sam still needs you. I think you have to change that idea in your head of what that means is all,” said Jensen.

“Do you always have to be so annoyingly optimistic?” asked Dean.

“I want you to feel better is all.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been one of my best friends for fifteen years. I care about you. I didn’t know you were real until recently but you taught me a few things over the years. If you could stop being such a dick, it’d be nice,” he said.

“I’m your best friend? You sure you ain’t nuts, Jenny?” asked Dean.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Also, you so put my head at rest knowing a freaking hunter is home with my family to watch out for them when I’m not there,” he said.

“I never thought of it like that,” he said, a small smile on his face. “You got no idea how lucky you are, man.”

“I know. Maybe when we get back from our trip, you can hang with Ana again. She’s cute. You seemed like you liked her,” he said.

“I did. I’ll think about it,” he said. “Would you mind if I did something with the kids next week? Like after school?”

“Not at all. You don’t have to ask permission. I see how good you are with them and I’m sure De would love a few hours to herself,” he said, pulling his line in. “Why don’t you stay a bit longer. I can setup.”

“Alright,” said Dean as Jensen stood up. “Jensen.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks. You and Jared for taking care of us. You could have left us on our own to figure all this out,” he said.

“S’not our style,” said Jensen. “Food’ll be done in probably twenty.”

“What are you, my mother? I got it,” he said, waving him off.

Jensen smiled as he headed back to the cabin, Jared heating up the grill on the deck.

“You think he’s doing better?” asked Jared.

“Yeah. I think these guys are gonna be alright.”

_________

#spn #supernatural #dean x jensen #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean #winchester #dean spn #sam winchester #jensen ackles #rpf #au #rpf au #sam #jensen #platonic relationships

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asgardianthot · 4 years

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Flesh And Bones – Part 9

Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist

A/N: oof this took a while! second to last :( gonna miss cracking my head with this fic lol never again shall I just wing it without a clear idea of how to end a story.

*Important: Hydra base scene but I won’t depict a tortured Bucky, he doesn’t always have to suffer at the expense of his ex-captors and I’m honestly getting tired of the obscene amount of torture fics out there!! Consider this an anti-trigger warning but also a threat? Idk enjoy

The anguish never went away.

Two days later, Bucky found himself knocking on Sam’s door, his heart on his hand.

There was no answer behind the thick walls, but Bucky knew he was there. Somehow, he felt it deep in his bones.

"You okay?" he asked.

The sound was muffled inside Sam’s room, both from the structure separating them and the external sounds that made their way in through the open window. There, Sam rested both hands on the lower frame as he stared outside, more focused on the wind and noise that drowned down his thoughts than the actual view. Bucky’s interruption made him realize he didn’t know for how long he’d stayed in that frozen position.

He slid down the window until it hit its frame, "Yeah, why?” he lied nonchalantly.

His mind was racing. As time passed and brought the team closer to the Hydra raid, Sam worried for Bucky. Not that he wasn’t prepared or that he was being reckless, because he knew that wasn’t the case. What had him worrying was the idea of Hydra potentially targeting Bucky. Although Natasha had assured him a million times that there was absolutely no chances that this was a trap, Sam’s mind couldn’t help but wander around horrible ‘what if’s, ones that compromised his soulmate because Hydra’s finest assassin had escaped them, so they were likely to want revenge on the man. Maybe even try to get him back under their grasp. And if Sam was deprived from the option of saving him, he wouldn’t know how to live anymore.

Bucky’s answer, however, got his head out of the dark cloud.

"I don't know. I feel weird." Barnes mumbled from across the door, loud enough to be heard though.

The last three words alone were enough to bring Sam towards the closed door. Bucky felt him. He felt weird, and wondered if Sam was alright, and he went to check up on him. As soon as he faced the mildly pouty lip, the big brown eyes, the badly concealed worried frown, he wished for nothing else than to kiss that pout away.

Which he did very aggressively. Sam brought his body against Bucky’s, he cupped the brunette’s face by his raspy cheeks and crashed their lips together. He didn’t wait for Bucky’s tongue to dance with his, he made it. When they stopped to regain their breaths, and the make out was over, Bucky looked confused, but in the best way possible.

He caught his breath with an amused look, "Okay."

Sam wanted to laugh with him, address his flourishing emotions, but his worry was far greater. So he showed the man inside and gestures to follow him. They both sat at the end of Sam’s bed.

“Yeah, there’s something wrong.” Sam admitted.

Barnes’ tone became sterner and more precautious, “What?”

Wilson held his hand before speaking.

"Tony said there's no rules or anything.” He reminded the latter of their informative chat with Stark, “But he did make it seem like there was some sort of... I don't know, some sort of progression.”

"What do you mean?"

Sam inclined his head like he was pushing himself to say the next thing out loud, "You've been really nervous lately."

Bucky didn’t flinch, yet he wasn’t comfortable either. The idea of Sam knowing that, finding out that he wasn’t as relaxed about the raid as he wished to play it out, was a quick disappointment.

"Guess you could say that." He looked away.

"I know that.” Sam emphasized the word while at the same time lowering his volume to attain a more intimate tone, “I don't think I should be able to."

Bucky simply shrugged.

"Why can I tell when you're anxious?” He had to insist on his concern. “How come you do too? It doesn't make any sense. Unless..."

"Hey.” The soldier stopped him, already knowing what scenario Sam was forming inside his head, “There's no step back here.”

Given Bucky’s certainty was convincing, and he was becoming aware of the fact that he was overthinking, Sam still couldn’t shake off the sour feeling of approaching danger.

“You’re supposed to be the sane one here, Sammy.” Bucky laughed, which brought a warm feeling deep in Sam’s chest because of the employed nickname, “We're okay. It doesn't have to mean anything, remember?"

That was enough for Sam’s heart rate to drop considerably. Bucky managed to calm him like that.

"Thank you.” Sam said genuinely.

Nevertheless, Bucky could read him. Hell, he could feel his dark feelings not shifting away. So he went into the gray zone he didn’t think he would be approaching anytime soon.

“Is it because of Riley?” he dared to bring up the subject.

Sam was more than taken aback, but he blinked to dissimulate. They had only ever talked about Riley once before, in another heart-to-heart, and it had brought tears to Sam’s eyes. Bucky knew everything, their friendship that was always something more, the love declarations left unsaid, the part where they saved each other’s asses in Afghanistan. Riley was the reason why Sam trusted the universe to be kind, even without a soulmate. He was the reason Sam told everyone you can love without a bond, because that memory was all that was left of the dead man.

“What do you mean?” he let the words out minimally.

“Are you afraid to lose me like you lost him?”

Sam shook his head, rejecting the mere thought of comparing the two men, almost desperately. There were open wounds that he hadn’t had the courage to heal yet. He cleared his throat and tried to shrug it off.

“He, uhm… He didn’t have that crazy serum of yours.” Sam faked an absent mind, although he failed, “You’re not the same.”

Bucky could see right through him.

“Exactly, I’m not Riley.” He grabbed Sam’s chin endearingly. “I heal fast, and you’ll feel me the entire time, and I get that you’re scared, but so am I. It’s why we got each other, right?”

Sam’s vision became less blurry when his soaked eyes dropped a single tear each. They rolled down his cheeks and were wiped away by Bucky’s thumb.

“I promise you won’t lose me.” He ensured his soulmate, who allowed himself to be held and rocked until he felt like talking again.

“Everyone on comms?” Steve’s voice barged into everyone’s earpieces.

As soon as the five other voices replied, Rogers gave them the orders required to execute the raid perfectly.

The first two floors would be empty, according to their lead, for they mainly consisted of dirty storage units meant to distract anyone from even getting close to finding the real base. So, those floors were their entrance and their escape, if ever needed. Hopefully, they would imprison everyone, realistically speaking, a few would be taken out in the process, perhaps killed. Whatever may come out of the raid, Steve Rogers had a whole alphabet of backup plans.

First off, they had to disperse. Steve and Rhodey walked upstairs as silently as possible, reaching the third floor in minutes. Meanwhile, Bucky and Natasha moved forward and explored the premises with their guards up. Romanoff’s excuse to pair with him was that they both had experience with these kind of organizations, although they everyone was rather aware of the fact that she was keeping an eye on the man Sam was worried about. Bucky ignored the reason behind it, and made no comment as the pair was left behind by Sam and Wanda, who walked upstairs.

When the first line of Avengers broke down the door in one swift blow, shield and blasters up with anticipation, they found the entire floor empty. After a confused glance between Rhodes and Rogers, they lurked around every single corner and behind every single door. Nothing.

“This wing is clear.” Rhodey said through his earpiece.

Although it didn’t seem to upset the rest of the team half as much, Sam was experiencing his fair share of anxiety. He looked up to the ceiling, as if he could burn a whole straight through and peak at the floor in question.

“Where are they?” He whispered to himself.

A minute later, Steve sent another command, “I need guns on the front line.”

Barnes rolled his eyes in mocking of his best friend.

“Nobody talks like that, Stevie.” He taunted him.

Yet Steve didn’t appreciate the joke, for he was far too tense. His eyes moved around frantically, looking for a possible trap, which his paranoia was leading to.

“Guns first.” He repeated himself clearly, “Something feels off.”

But nobody got there. Before Bucky or Natasha could even reach the stairs, a set of loud noises surrounded them. In every floor, metal doors fell from the ceiling, blocking exits and doors. These doors weren’t too intense, but their tech hadn’t picked up on them, which meant they were expected. Every Avenger found themselves trapped in their respective zones. As for Barnes and Romanoff, they were too apart from each other to even see the other’s face.

So, deep in his fear, Bucky raised his gun and checked every wall his sight could reach, almost waiting to be attacked. If Natasha was completely honest, she would have bet Bucky was a target, as well. That is what everyone’s minds went to, especially Sam’s. Luckily, he had the company of Wanda right next to him to feel calmer.

"Everyone okay?" Rhodes checked.

Sam and Wanda replied with their status and whereabouts, but after a lack of response from the other two, the man confirmed their status on his wrist screen, only to see that Barnes and Romanoff were off-line. He figured they must’ve been trapped downstairs.

"We gotta move fast.” Steve ordered, keeping his Captain-like calm, “Try to get to the control panels, if not, evacuate. They know we're here."

Wanda and Sam. Walking slowly. Careful. Not many places to hide, but there must be a way out.

“He’s okay.” Wanda let Sam know.

They walked side by side, as slowly as possible. There weren’t many places to hide nor another entrance that they knew of, on the second floor, yet they remained precautious.

“What?” Sam let out without paying much attention.

“I’m saying, he can take care of himself.”

Once Sam understood that Wanda was playing the best friend card in letting him know she knew Bucky to be strong, he realized he probably looked too worried.

He fought back his frown. “I know that. I’m just…”

“Anxious?”

“We’re trapped in an underground intelligence base,” He sighed loudly, “shouldn’t I be?”

The statement earned an acknowledging nod from Wanda, who waited a few more seconds to press his earpiece and reach the Captain.

“Steve? You think it’s okay if I tear down a wall?” She asked for permission to jump into action.

“No.” Steve denied her dryly, “Bucky and Nat are on their own, we won’t engage until they’re safe.”

The young woman shut her eyes with annoyance, “Okay, Steve? You’re not helping Sam stay calm.”

She received no further comments. Everyone felt too powerless after all. No comments.

Down in the bottom storage, the place began to look more like a maze. It was a mess of similar, dusty hallways and old, closed doors. Natasha tried each and every single one of them, but they were useless, and she figured they wouldn’t get her anywhere, anyway. It might as well have been an underground cellblock.

“Barnes, give me a sign.” She asked for a second time.

Bucky indulged her, complying with her attempts at finding each other. Together meant safer.

He thought hard about his whereabouts, “East wing’s on my… left side.”

“I can’t get through to anyone else.” Romanoff finally said what seemed obvious to both of them.

The soldier couldn’t help but take a deep, calming breath, for it was a much needed one. He gripped his gun harder, trying to ease himself.

“Me neither.” His mouth spoke in disconnection with his brain, which was submerged in paranoia by now.

Natasha could sense that.

“We’re okay.” She did her best at calming him realistically, as she looked around for a way to find him, “You said east wing? I think I got you, Barnes.”

Suddenly, a gunshot was clearly heard, making Natasha turn around in a haze, only to find herself alone, and realize that the shot came from afar.

“Crap.” Bucky groaned, his communicator still on.

After the sound of three other guns and what appeared to be Bucky’s rapid machinegun, the woman panicked.

“Talk to me.” She ordered him.

"I got hostiles!" Barnes screamed over the noise of his own weapon.

As soon as Natasha realized she could hear where the attack came from, she followed the echo, running. Eventually, the sound drowned out.

“Bucky?” she asked, fear crippling through her.

There was no reply but the sound of Bucky panting. She managed to find a grilled gate, which she shot and kicked open easily, all the while her mind raced to the worst case scenario. Sam had trusted her with his soulmate’s life.

Finally, she hit the scene: two dead bodies on the floor, both hostiles. The soulmate’s life was still intact.

“Good, you’re alive.” She breathed out, pretending she wasn’t just losing her mind mere seconds ago.

Nevertheless, she quickly noticed that Bucky’s panting was linked to whatever made him hold his ribs so painfully. Then, Bucky removed his flesh hand from that zone in order to look at it, revealing to both of them that the hand was covered in blood. As terrified as Natasha was, her expression couldn’t match Bucky’s.

"You’re shot." She stated with wide eyes.

Bucky swallowed hard, "We have to find Sam." He said roughly.

As Romanoff processed Bucky’s fear, the latter looked around for an out in desperation. He was worried that Sam was hurt. Sam, who couldn’t bleed out from a soul bond wound, while Bucky had his fingers pressed against a pool of red.

"He'll live.” Natasha approached him carefully, “You, on the other hand..."

Barnes shook his head. "Sam first."

Wanda was known to save the day without too much effort. Turns out, the Hydra base was covered in desperate traps because they were too vulnerable to withstand a raid. Therefore, the witch tore down the metal walls and flew up to help Rhodey and Steve, who didn’t need too much aid as it was. Sam stayed down, fully aware that the other three were probably kicking ass, and still worrying. He ran downstairs as soon as the blockade was taken care of, in need of finding Bucky safe and sound, even if he knew that he was.

And he knew he was okay, because Sam himself hadn’t felt a single sting. Not a gunshot, not a bruise, not even a scratch.

So, if Sam felt untouched, then Bucky must be.

Finally, he heard the pair, and found them at the bottom of the stairs. He jogged the last few steps and noticed that Bucky was holding himself up against the wall, limping. The latter looked up with big, concerned eyes.

"You okay?" He asked Sam.

That was when Sam saw the bloody hand pressed against his soulmate’s chest. Natasha was helping him stay on his own two feet, while Bucky examined Sam’s body like his own life depended on it. Technically, that was the whole deal. Wilson pushed his own hand against Bucky’s and frowned.

"Did you get shot?" he shouted in despair, his eyes as big and afraid as ever.

"I'm sorry. I tried-" Bucky tried, but cut himself off with a grunt of pain.

"Buck." Sam grabbed his torso.

"Let's go home." Bucky begged.

"Yes. We will.” Sam’s tone became serious and authoritarian, “Sit down."

"I'm fine."

"He's losing a lot of blood." Natasha confirmed Samuel’s suspicions.

In between the frantic commands and worrisome looks, Bucky couldn’t help but notice Sam’s lack of discomfort. Almost like he hadn’t felt a gunshot in his chest a few minutes ago.

He frowned with confusion, "Why are you-?"

"I didn't feel it.” Sam shrugged it off, way more focused on the open wound, “Sit down. Bucky."

"What do you mean-?"

"I didn't. Bucky!” Sam grabbed the face of the stubborn, hurt man with his free hand, smearing blood all over his cheek, and yelled to his face. “James! Listen! There was no bond. Right now, that's not important. You're bleeding out."

"They didn't hurt you?" Bucky seemed to finally understand.

“No!”

The new information hit Bucky like a soft, warm wave of tranquility. If Sam wasn’t hurt, if Hydra hadn’t hurt Sam, then he didn’t need to worry. He could breathe. And as he breathed, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, along with some heavy dizziness.

"That's good." He mumbled, looking past Sam with lost eyes.

"It is. Now calm the fuck down." Wilson begged, trying to take a good look of the wound.

Bucky nodded, finally compliant, "Okay."

With that last word, Bucky’s eyes rolled back into his skull, and he surrendered to tiredness. He stopped feeling anything other than her very light head, until everything went black.

"Shit.” Sam cursed under his breath, catching him before he hit the ground completely.

He eased his partner’s fall and let the passed out body rest against the wall.

“Give me a hand.” He asked Natasha.

They managed to sit him straight against the wall, in order for Sam to press his hand against the bleeding gunshot. Nat said something over the communicators for the rest of the team, which Sam didn’t fully catch, before she knelt down next to her friend. She examined the wound, then Bucky’s pupils and let out a breath.

“He’s gonna be fine.” She appeased Sam.

“I know.” Sam said without giving it too much of a thought.

The woman gave him a wondering look.

Sam merely shook his head with uncertainty, “I just do.”

#sambucky fanfiction #sambucky #soulmate au #fatws #tfatws #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam wilson/bucky barnes #sam x bucky #sam/bucky #marvel fanfiction #sambucky angst #sambucky fic #the falcon and the winter soldier #tw: death #tw: gunshot

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

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Be Mine, this Quarantine

"Dude." Dean nervously chuckles, scrubbing his face with his hand. The other one holds the phone to his ear. "I haven't even been able to ask this guy out to dinner. And you're asking me to ask him to go into isolation with me?"

"You're being dramatic again." Sam tells him, matter-of-factly, as if Dean's the one being unreasonable here.

Sam is the one who specifically called him on a Sunday from California to remind him to self-isolate, but "do it with someone like Castiel, okay?" - like he's supposed to be taking care of his older brother from fucking Stanford, like Dean knows anyone else like Cas, and like he's ever going to be able to propose something of that sort to Cas.

"He has a third-floor apartment." Sam points out, revisiting all of his super valid points. "You share a dorm with three other guys. And he just seems like the kind who'd be the correct amount of a germophobe." Dean rolls his eyes - although he also agrees. "Dean, you share so many classes with him that if nothing else, you could revise your entire semester together - and to top it all off, you're like best friends."

Benny comes to Dean's head and he starts to protest.

"You text him, Dean." The eyeroll and bitchface are audible in Sam's voice. "You, who exits all text chains you've ever been added to because quote unquote you're not an adolescent teenager with a celebrity crush, or looking to be catfished - you, Dean Winchester, text Cas."

That - wasn't far from the truth.

He wouldn't call them texting buddies or anything, but Castiel always sends a good morning text, and Dean always sends him a picture of his breakfast (because that's what he's up to by the time Castiel wakes up) and sometimes Dean's late for class because he lost track of time while talking to Cas, and sometimes they stay up all night together discussing the most inconsequential things like why mattresses matter to Dean and bees matter to Cas, and - yeah. He should probably call them texting buddies.

"Whatever, bitch." Dean throws back, taking the small losses his way as long as he wins the final battle. "Fine, we're friends. That doesn't automatically mean we'll be able to live together."

"You cannot actually mean that." Sam scoffs. "You're the best kind of neat freak I know, because you just end up doing all the tidying up by yourself. And you can cook." Dean huffs. "Admit it, jerk. Compatibility in a shared living space shouldn't be your concern."

Sure, Sam makes some good points, but Dean has the biggest card up his sleeve - which will trump all of Sam's meticulously presented arguments.

He's sorta in love with Cas.

But to say out loud to his little brother, it comes out as, "What if Cas doesn't want me there?"

Sam pauses.

Point, Dean Winchester.

"That's exactly why you need to talk to him." He finally says, but he sounds more thoughtful like it finally entered his twenty two year old brain that Cas might not want to shack up with Dean.

"Like hell, I will."

"I swear on your bullshit, Dean," Sam threatens. "I won't hesitate to take a cheap-ass flight, straight to Cas's apartment."

Dean balks. "You're not getting on any planes right now, Sammy -"

"And you're asking him." Sam declares, and if he were in front of Dean, he'd be crossing his arms on his chest which usually implies the end of a debate in Sam-the-to-be-lawyer speak. "Promise me."

"What will I even say?" Dean retorts, indignant. "Like, do I just go up to the guy like 'hey, wanna have me impose on you for a bunch of weeks?'" Sam snickers like Dean's trying to be funny. "'I promise to clean and make you food if you let me live with you during a pandemic'?"

"Something like that." Sam laughs, and Dean has to smile - because that doesn't happen very often and when it does, it reminds him of a past where they were much closer than California and Kansas. "Tell me how it goes, okay?"

"Nothing's going -"

"You promised."

"I didn't fucking promise a thing -"

The line clicks, and Sam is gone. Dean lands back on his bed, and wonders briefly if it'd be easier to die.

He calls Cas - because they're not goddamn texting buddies, no matter what Sam says - and asks if he's free for lunch.

Cas says yes and actually sounds excited about it.

When Dean reaches their usual diner, he takes longer than usual to park the Impala - all the while thinking about how he's going to frame the question to Cas, because he's fought it out with himself and knows that he's going to do it. He'd also taken longer than usual to drive there from the University apparently, because when he reaches, Cas is already there.

He's sitting on a table for two - probably just because that allows him to have a seat against the wall and Cas is kind of adorable about small things like that - and he's slumping over his phone.

But he puts it down when Dean approaches, and as Dean takes off his jacket, Cas puts his phone back in his jeans and uses his fingers to fidget instead. When Dean sits, a little amused, Cas is the one who speaks up first and in a hurry.

"Would you like to quarantine with me?"

Dean blinks. He takes a moment to think and then asks, "Did Sam get to you?"

"Uh, your brother Sam?" Cas frowns, shaking his head. "No, why would he?"

"Nevermind." Dean believes him. Though he cannot believe what just happened.

"So?"

"Oh." He's supposed to give an answer, because Cas doesn't know how much Dean's been thinking about it. Though, in his defense, most of the time, Cas tends to be so goddamn intuitive that Dean feels like he can read his mind.

Nonetheless, Dean tries to answer as casually as he can. "Yes. I mean, of course. Thank you for asking."

That's Dean Winchester in a sentence.

He tries to shoot for the normal, and ends up in affirmative-response-to-a-promposal territory.

"Are you sure?" Cas asks, sounding slightly less sure than before.

Did you not hear me say 'of course, thank you for asking' after that yes?

"Yeah, buddy." He pulls the menu from Cas's side of the table to his, sliding it on the table. "So what are we eating?"

"I'm not forcing you into this, am I?" Cas interrupts, hand on Dean's wrist jolting his attention back and ruining his complete 'casual' cover, because now Dean's sweating too. "Just because I asked, and just because we're friends - you don't have to say yes to anything, okay?"

"I know that." Dean gives Cas his best reassuring smile, though it's a little non-assured from his own core.

"I wake up late and I'm not sure when I sleep." Cas confesses, eyes worried. "The flat is clean only because I stuff everything in the closets. And I have a neighbor - you remember Balthazar, right? He just returned from France."

"How long ago is 'just'?" Dean repeats, and then adds. "And frankly I'd assumed he was simply being pretentious when we met."

"Two months." Castiel bites his lip. "And he is. The accent is fake."

"We'll survive." Dean announces, grinning broader. "Plus I can't wait to hear that guy minus the accent now."

Castiel makes an exasperated sound.

"Cas, how do I put this?" Dean sighs, knowing that things would eventually come to this. "I would be grateful if you'd let me stay with you, and -"

"Sometimes I wander around the house with my cat past midnight." Cas volunteers, out of the blue.

Naked?

Dean's brain jumps there and then he drags it back from the gutter - or, you know, the land of tempting imaginable scenarios.

"I want to live with you, you dumbass."

Cas pauses like that's at all surprising. "You do?"

"I was literally trying to figure out how to ask." Dean rubs the back of his neck, feeling his face heat up. "And then you did, okay? And then I said yes, and I wanted us to not talk about it all lunch because later we're going to have important shit to figure out like food and beer and toilet paper and -"

"When exactly you'll move in." Cas offers, and when he puts it like that, a little bit of Dean melts.

"Uh-huh."

"Okay." Cas smiles, and finally it's that smile - eyes all crinkled, nose all scrunched up, the very definition of gummy - and fuck, Dean's very much in love with him and has just dug himself a huge, apartment-shaped hole, but he'd fucking like to live with him too, and he's a fucking liar if he isn't being a little hopeful about it too.

"We'll not talk about it." Cas declares. "And before, you'd asked me what we were eating?"

Dean nods.

"Well, I asked the waitress for recommendations for something memorable and she offered me the specials menu." Cas says, innocent as though everyone in the city doesn't know not to ask for the specials' menu at Reed's diner.

Dean starts to pray.

"So, kale pecan pesto." Cas announces. "And yes, I had to Google what that is later and no, I'm not showing you."

"God-fucking-dammit, Cas." Dean glares at him. "These might be our last diner meals for the foreseeable future, I don't want to have rabbit food -"

And then Cas winks at him like that's something he's allowed to do, and Dean's suddenly flustered again - and if that isn't an apt summary of how living with Cas is going to be like, he doesn't know what is.

#destiel #quarantine #destiel fluff #self isolation #destiel crack #soft bois #destiel ficlet #destiel college au #young destiel #young dean winchester #young castiel #castiel #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #not spoilers #representation week #coronavirus

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

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Constants (9.5k Supernatural fic) (ao3 link)

Meeting with alternate versions of themselves makes Sam and Dean think about what the landscape of the former multiverse might have looked like - or, really, "If there can be multiple Deans and multiple Sams, can there be other versions of things they know. Like... Baby?"

Dean says no. There's only one Baby. She's got four wheels, black paint, and has been his from the beginning. Sam thinks otherwise.

Let's explore what the possibilities of Deans, Sams, and Babys in different universes might look like.

Earth-1

Dean wanders in with two beers, lifting them high as he enters. “There are our last two,” he calls, “Gonna have t’go on a supply run tomorrow!” Sam barely responds, nodding, too focused on his phone. “Hey,” he continues, setting the beers down in front of Sam. Slamming his brother’s hard. Not even a flinch. “Who’s that? Eileen?”

Sam rolls his eyes, grabbing for the beer. “It’s us.”

“Come again?”

“Us,” Sam tells him, flashing his phone screen, “Other us. Rich us.” Dean takes the phone, bringing it closer for a better look. There, on the screen, were them. Somewhat. Half of the other Sam’s face appeared, mouth cut off by the camera. His hair sat atop his hair in a messy bun. Behind him, dressed in a flowing, flowery kaftan and holding an empty cocktail glass, was Dean’s reflection. Dean’s doppelganger points out at a beautiful skyline from the balcony of whatever hotel they camped in.

“God,” Dean winces, “they sure are living the life, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are,” his brother snorts, stealing his phone back. “They don’t have God breathing down their necks.”

Dean sighs, collapsing across from Sam. “True… you think it’s too late to switch places?”

“They’d never,” he scoffs, sipping his beer, “not even for your entire porn collection and Baby –“

“Don’t joke about that,” Dean splutters. “Wherever we’d go, Baby’d come with us.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. She’s… she’s Baby. Our Baby.” Dean waves his bottle around, droplets of condensation flung in all directions. “They might look like us, but they ain’t us. That Dean wouldn’t know what to do with her… probably’d toss a wad at some mechanic to fix her up instead of getting his own hands dirty…” Dean scowls, glaring at his beer bottle’s mouth. “Like, did you see their hands? Hardly any callouses… and they were too smooth. Bet he never spent hours over a sink trying to wash motor oil outta his nailbeds.”

Sam leans back in his seat, enjoying the spiral of his brother’s tirade. Although he’s not fully present watching him. Curiosity circling around a tiny thought. Like sharks homing in on discarded chum. Before he realizes it, Sam asks, “You don’t know. Maybe they had their own Baby?”

Dean pauses mid-sentence, gaze drifting from the bottle to Sam. “What?”

“Just saying…” Sam shrugs, stringing together his next few words carefully. Uncomfortable with the dangerous glint shining in Dean’s eye. “There are probably an infinite number of universes – sorry… were. And on them, their own Dean and Sam. Maybe they had their own Baby’s?”

“That better be a joke, Sammy,” Dean growls, sloshing some of his drink out of the bottle’s tiny mouth with how forcefully he points it at him. The splash nearly wets Sam’s knuckles. “You cannot even compare Baby to that – that… that mint green disgrace those losers showed up in.”

“I wasn’t trying to compare!”

“Because there’s only one Baby.” Dean can sense he overreacts, the ferociousness twinging his voice surprising him alongside Sam. He cannot contain the fire raging inside. “She’s special, and she’s unique, and she’s ours. There might’ve been a million you’s, and there might’ve been a million me’s… but throughout all of existence, no matter what Earth, there’s only one Baby!”

Earth-16

Dean tosses two Jack’s, face-down, “Two twos –“

“Bullshit!”

He glares at Sam, dimples like craters on his cheeks. “You sure about that?” Dean asks, fanning his cards out. “You think I couldn’t have two twos in my hand? Or,” he gestures at the pile, “do you want all these cards?”

Sam levels his own stare at Dean, dialing up the contempt. “Dean, I played four two’s three rounds ago – if you were paying attention you’d’ve known that. So, pick… them… up!” He barks fake laughter on beat, although it quickly becomes genuine as Dean gathers the pile. They’d gone the entire game without calling each other out, practically the whole deck was in Dean’s grip.

The last few cards were in Sam’s hand. But not for long.

He slides three cards down, grinning. “Three sevens.”

“Dammit!” The cards spill onto the table, a few falling over the edge. Dean’s body sags, head dangling between his legs. “I can’t believe I lost!”

“Serves you right for trying to trick me. Twos… what were they anyway?”

“Jacks.”

“Why wouldn’t you just say that, then?”

“Because the game’s boring when you tell the truth all the time!” Dean drags tired hands down his face, pulling at his skin. “Out of all the chances you had to call bullshit, just when I was so close…” He slaps the table, mood reversing immediately. “Let’s play again. Best three out of five!”

Sam sighs in agreement, gathering the cards. Except, as he does, a shadow steps into view. Someone reaches forward and slaps his hands, forcing him to drop the cards. More falls onto the floor. Hissing, Sam glances up at the intruder.

Rufus stands over them, brow arched wryly. “No more games, you two,” he orders, “you were supposed to start cleaning a half-hour ago.” He kicks the bucket filled with supplies near Dean’s chair, almost toppling it over. It wobbles, sound echoing around them. “Get to it,” Rufus says, walking away, “And when you’re done, do a full inventory check.”

“Rufus!” Dean yells at his retreating figure, “You know I restock her after every call!”

“You think that makes a difference? Full inventory check – and I want the report on my desk.” Rufus ends the conversation, bounding up the stairs towards the second floor. Undoubtedly hiding away until the alarms blare and spurs them all into action.

Dean folds his arms across his chest, huffing. “Don’t know why we gotta wash her again,” he mutters, “I washed, dried, and detailed Baby this morning!”

“Yeah,” Sam says, gathering the cards again, “but we were out earlier, at that apartment fire?”

“We weren’t close enough for ash to get on her roof.”

“Then maybe he’s doing this because he caught you fooling around in her body the other night,” Sam reminds Dean, standing. He throws the box of cards at his brother, snickering at how he fumbles the catch. He places it down with a grumble. “Why you thought you’d get away with it…”

Dean rises, too, blush creeping up his neck past his blue, uniform collar. “I was making sure her vitals were okay, that’s all…”

It’s a poor excuse; they both know it. He grabs for the bucket’s handle, hiding from Sam’s condemnation. “Sure.” They shuffle out the break room into the apparatus bay, passing by their fellow teammates enjoying down time. “But hopefully you’ll think twice before playing doctor.”

“As if. I’m seeing her tonight. And,” Dean wiggles his fingers, grin wide on his face, “this time I’ll be helping her check for lumps on her breasts!”

“Gross, what are you – fourteen?”

“Dude, you’re just jealous…” Dean trails off as they pass the last fire truck and enter the ambulance territory. His face lights up in that special way when he catches sight of her, that eases the tension in his shoulders and injects more bounce in his step. No matter how much he might whine about caring for her, Sam knows Dean would gladly work overtime – has worked overtime – in keeping her in top shape. Their home away from home, where they travel the city helping those in need.

Dean knew her longer. Told stories about his assigned truck over dinners, in his free time, and whenever Sam had free time when studying for his exams. Sam never truly understood how an ambulance could leave such an impact on one man. Why he’d give her a nickname, and say it so fondly. It was a car. A means to and end. Drives them where they need and nothing more. But then Rufus chose Sam for his squad, made him and Dean partners.

Then it made sense. She wasn’t an ambulance. Baby – Dean’s affectionate nickname for her – was part of the team. The third member of their operation. Without her, they’d be ineffective. Once, after a gnarly crash that took Baby out of commission for a month while they repaired her, they drove another in the interim.

It didn’t handle right. Dean found the clutch sticking every now and then, the pedals squeaky. Sam’s response time doubled because he couldn’t remember where the necessary instruments were. Working inside that replacement was hell, and there were too many close calls.

When they saw Baby waiting, almost brand new, during their next shift, both he and Dean nearly broke down. Dean denies it, but he let a few tears slip free.

Luckily, since then, they haven’t been separated. Through squad rotations, disasters, and aging, none of them felt ready for retirement.

“Y’know,” Dean says, wiping at her front window. Sam on the other side, doing the same to her mirror. “I was wondering… how’d Baby look if she were painted black?”

“Black?” Sam asks, “Why black?”

“Dunno… it’d be cool, right?”

“It’d be ominous as fuck, Dean.” Sam’s lips pinch, holding back laughter. “How’d you feel if you were bleeding out and a large, black truck came speeding at you?”

Dean winces, picturing the image. “Yeah, okay… I get it.” He steps away from Baby, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “Still be cool, though.” Clapping, he looks at Sam. “So, do you want to do the inventory or should I?”

“Rufus was clearly talking to you when he said that.”

“But you’re the one who spends all his time back there. I should be calibrating the brakes, making sure her on-board systems are synced, y’know…”

Sam glowers, slapping her hood with another rag. “Dean, I am not doing your work for you.”

“But Sam –“!

Ringringringringringringringringringringring

The apparatus bay becomes awash in a flurry of activity. Firefighters scrambling from their posts, jumping into their uniforms. Both Dean and Sam scan the room as it seems like the entire building rushes for the exits.

Dean brushes a gentle hand across Baby’s hood. “Guess Rufus’ll have to wait for that inventory report.”

Sam agrees. The three of them have lives to save.

Earth-84b

Dean closes his eyes as the wind hits his face, savoring its caress. His feet push off the pedals, legs stretched straight while they roll down the hill. He can hear Sam’s ragged breathing in front of him, still cycling. “Dean,” he growls, “stop fooling around and help. A bicycle built for two means it needs two people to work it.”

“I know,” he says, “I’m the one who bought Baby. Not you.”

The curve of the hill flattens out, and Dean blinks his eyes open. He resumes pedaling, chasing the high that only comes from riding Baby with his brother on a perfect, summer day.

Earth-1 A-corn

Dean knows the human toy takes up space in his nest he could use for storing more nuts. The oblong piece of plastic serves no function and draws blank stares whenever other squirrels visit his nest. But he dares not throw it away.

Seeing the toy brings him as much joy as it did when he first laid eyes on it one afternoon, spying on little humans. Captivated him, put Dean under its spell. When the two were called back by an even larger human, Dean scurried forward. Sniffed it. Laid a paw on its wheel and spun it. Hearing the click and whir made him giggle. As the wheel’s spinning petered out, Dean came to a decision.

He carried the toy home, where it has become a part of his family. And every member of Dean’s family deserves a name.

So, he calls her Baby.

Earth-R0ck

“Where in the bloody hell can your brother be?”

Sam shrugs, spinning his drumsticks in hand. “I saw him chatting up that reporter from Rolling Stones on our way out from the venue…”

Crowley stops, pressing his phone against his shoulder. No doubt trying Dean’s number again. “Rolling Stone?” he hisses, “And why didn’t you stay with him?”

“Wasn’t that kind of interview…” Sam saw the glint in Dean’s eye, shifting back into his stage persona as he strode over towards the blonde with the press pass. She didn’t look too impressed with his brother, but Dean charmed stiffer lips. He only hopes his brother doesn’t bring her back to the bus for a quickie. Sam would prefer not being locked out in the bitter cold.

Like they are now.

“Why your brother insists on keeping the keys…” Crowley mutters, rolling his eyes. He holds his phone up once more, flicking it off with a heavy scowl. “I’m going to go find him. And if I have to see his naked ass, balls deep in this reporter, then I’m dropping you two as my clients.”

Sam calls to his departing figure. “No you won’t!” He chuckles at Crowley’s one-finger salute, watching the shorter British man enter the club.

A beat passes, drumming the air. If needed, he could wait there until Dean finishes or Crowley brings him back with blue balls. But he feels something land on his head. And another. Then, on his nose.

Snowflakes.

“Damn…”

The flurry shows no signs of stopping. Increasing with each passing minute. When white powder dusts his shoulders, Sam makes a decision. He rises, shaking snow off of him. “Sorry about this Baby,” Sam says, patting the section of their bus where her name was spray-painted, “but I’m gonna get a little handsy.”

This was not the first time Sam said this. Nor did what he does now. When the brothers were first starting out in their band, and all they had were their instruments and Baby, Dean had an abandonment issue. Finding fans in the audience and following them home, keys still on him as he wouldn’t let anyone drive Baby but him. If Sam couldn’t find his own bed for the night, then it’d be him and the asphalt.

Until he learned this neat little trick.

Sam wedges the backdoor open, easing it. Making sure the hinges don’t break. Assured Baby is fine, Sam starts shoving their equipment through. “How many years,” he growls, rolling his drum, “and I haven’t made a duplicate key yet?”

The drums were hard but loading Dean’s guitar takes seconds. Sam steps onto the bus, halfway in, when he hears his brother, “What did you do?”

He looks behind him. Dean, ruffled and fuming, stands next to an equally displeased Crowley. Sam smirks, fully lifting himself into the bus. “I got tired of waiting.” Shutting the door on Dean’s yelling, Sam settles in for a drive filled with shouting, cursing, and more shouting. If he’s lucky, he’ll be asleep soon.

Earth-1969

Dean’s grip on his wheel tightens, negativity surfacing despite the groovy music, chill vibes, and the sweet smell of grass that drifts about the cabin. “Seriously,” he mutters, watching another group of people traipse by from the driver’s seat, “we’ve been here for over an hour. How have we not moved yet?”

“Dude relax…” Sam chuckles from the back, sprawled across the shag carpeting they installed weeks before, gutting most of the van’s interior for greater mobility. Joint dangling out of his loose grip, “We’ll get there when we get there.”

“Easy for you to say…” He shifts his attention from behind to the traffic again. An inch of space opened, but Dean keeps their van stationary. Doesn’t expect a miracle like traffic clearing up any time soon. Dean sighs, dragging his legs up and onto the dashboard. Stretches out until his toes poke at the windshield. Reaching into the back, he curls his fingers. “Let me have some.”

“What’s the magic word, Dean?”

“Quit stallin’ – I bought the damn grass, Sammy!”

Sam pokes his head up, dropping the joint in his waiting hand. “It was please. You knew that.” He rests his chin near the other headrest, sighing. “Do you think you’ll be this pissy when we get there? Or will you let yourself enjoy the concert?”

Dean sucks down his hit, hissing a breath between clenched teeth. “I’m sure it’ll be a real gas, Sammy… if we ever get there.”

They’d been looking forward to this the entire summer. This being Woodstock. Three days of peace, love, music… and people. Too many people. Probably half the country, Dean thinks, taking another hit. All the other kids like Sam and Dean who traversed great lengths for a taste of freedom. Escaping from under the oppressive thumb of the man.

Their ‘man’ went by the name John Winchester. When he heard where the brothers were headed, he was anything but pleased; actually, he forbid them from leaving. Confiscated Dean’s keys and grounded them.

He did not go far enough, given how he and Sam idled a few miles outside Bethel. Dean stole back his Baby’s keys and left a little special treat for John. One good trip deserves another, and maybe once they return their father will be in a better mood. Groovier. More attuned with a higher plane of existence.

Although Dean wishes he kept some of that acid on him. Reaching a higher plane sounds pretty nice. Emptier, too.

“Hey,” Sam shakes him from his reflection, “look at what they’re doing!” He points past Dean, finger bending against the windshield near his feet. A car drives off the road and onto a nearby shoulder. It rolls to a stop, doors flung open as an entire tribe pours free. They gather their bags and join the crowds pouring through the cracks between cars. Like fish swimming upstream. Swimming home. “Maybe we should do that, too?”

Dean scowls, pushing Sam’s arm out of his way. “Like hell I’m abandoning Baby!”

“She’ll be fine, Dean. There’s no way she can get hurt here…” Sam drops both his hands on Dean’s bare shoulders, kneading the skin there. After taking the joint back from him, though, and biting on the end. “How can anyone get hurt – feel bad or… or do harm – when we’re this close to paradise?”

It’s a convincing argument. Dean resists being swayed easily, however.

He cannot leave Baby on her own. Not after everything they’ve been through. Not the first real thing that is his.

Dean spotted her on his twentieth birthday. Taking a break from work, bumming a joint from his co-worker Ash, they watched Bobby haul in a wrecked van with his rusty tow. She creaked and groaned, sparks trailing behind as her bumper scraped the ground. Ash nudged him, chuckling, “She’s a piece of work, ain’t she?”

He agreed, for a different reason. Time stretched at that moment, seconds passing like days. Dean felt a powerful force shake the core of his very being, Bobby bringing her close enough that his gaze caught both her headlights. She called out.

And he answered.

“It’s not like she’ll be doing good, sitting out there – collecting dust with the other scrap,” he argued. Paced Bobby’s office, fingers twitching through his hair while detailing all the reasons he deserved the wrecked van. “And you can take out whatever parts I use in repairing her from my pay. Hell, I can work on her overtime and you don’t have to give me shit.”

Bobby steepled his fingers together, slouching in his chair. Face impassive while he absorbed Dean’s rambling. His silence exacerbated his nerves, Dean tasting copper from how hard he bit his lips. Finally, Bobby sighed. “I was gonna use her for scrap,” he says, standing, “but if you can get the ol’ gal working… she’s yours. Besides, ‘bout time you had something other than that pansy ass bicycle you got.”

“Thank you, Bobby, thanks…” Emotion swelled from within, Dean at a loss for words. Instead, he threw his arms around his boss, squeezing him tight. “Thank you.” Jumping off, he fled the room. “I promise, she’ll be perfect!”

That began a beautiful, but maddening, relationship.

She was on his mind all the time. If Dean were working on another car, he wondered if she would need the same maintenance. While eating dinner, he thought about the many joints he could swing by for a quick bite. A few times, while in the throes of LSD, he envisioned her appearing in front of him. Honking, revving an engine he hadn’t fixed – her ways of communicating. During one of these trips, she told him her name.

“Baby?” Sam asked, sitting on the ground a few feet from where Dean worked. Pencil in hand, midway through a sketch. “She told you her name was Baby?”

Dean poked his head out the hood, wiping at sweat camping above his brow. “Yeah. I mean… don’t know why I didn’t see it before. She looks like a Baby, y’know?”

“Whatever.” Sam continued drawing, bangs falling over his face, “Hey, you think you can get her working by Sunday night? Heard there’s a party downtown, and the band they booked will be far out.”

“Maybe if you lend a hand?”

Sam ignored Dean’s pleas for help. Dean carried on, not expecting an answer. His brother never had the talent for cars like he did. Honed under Bobby’s gruff tutelage. He left his mark on Baby in his own way, painting a psychedelic landscape across her body after the mechanics and interior were finished.

Together, they brought new life to a magnificent beauty. She repays them by delivering them where they need.

Which, if they left her now, would be like a betrayal. Baby had already been cast aside once, on her deathbed. Dean cannot leave her. Even if the first day of Woodstock arrives and they were still in this same place.

“Dean…”

“I can’t, Sam,” Dean winces, fiddling with his pendant. Shifts, feet on the pedals again. “I just… yeah, nothing should happen. Can’t help think that…” He trails off, gazing out the window. Thoughts disappearing, burned up from the radiant light of an angel who deigned catch his stare.

He’s gorgeous. Mussed, raven hair, blue eyes tinged red from grass, and a frumpy, suede jacket marked with scratches and scuff marks. The man briefly passes the door, one of the many walking. He smiles, then carries on conversing with his friend.

Sam waves a hand in front of Dean, breaking the connection. “Dean?” he asks, “Hey, hey Dean? You okay there? …This was some weak shit, brother, shouldn’t hit you too bad.”

“What? No… it wasn’t – wasn’t the grass, dude.”

“Then what?”

“I…” Dean tries finding his angel, sees him being swallowed by others. Soon he’ll be gone. And it’d be in fates hands whether they meet again. Unless…

Suddenly the song on the radio fades, replaced by another. It’s one Dean doesn’t recognize; the station name is as unfamiliar. At some point the signals must have switched, a notorious problem Baby has. He listens as the melody begins, building to the chorus. The chorus plays, and Dean knows. And he smiles.

Dean pulls over, shifting into park. Sam tumbles from the sudden jerk, “What are you doing?”

“Parking, Sam. Don’t you know?” He takes the keys, shoving them in his pocket. “We’re gonna walk the rest of the way.”

Sam blinks, smoke creeping past his lips. “Why the change of heart?”

“It’s like the song, Sam… everything’s gonna be all right!” Dean hops out of Baby, Sam clambering alongside him through the side door. “Come on, let’s get going!”

“What about our stuff?”

“We’ll come back for it later – come on.” He drags his brother off the grassy patch and onto the hot pavement. The fleeting regret of not grabbing his shoes flits by, feet burning with every step, but he grows accustomed soon enough. They enter the meandering pack, Dean looking back at Baby one last time.

She waits there, encouraging him forward. Always.

Earth-G00-g4

Sammy rocks with the motion of this strange, red box he’s sat in, crawling along slowly. Older brother Dean grunting as he tugs on the handle. “We’re almoth there, Thammy,” he says, stopping, the bright red box rolling into his legs. Jostling Sammy as it stops. “Juth a few more blockth.” Dean looks behind at him, bright smile encouraging one on Sammy’s face. He gurgles and claps his hands together, bouncing. “That’s right! Get pumped! If we’re gonna take down those monthers, we’ll need t’be ready!”

He has no concept of what Dean means when he talks about ‘monthers’. But from what he gleans, Sammy thinks it’s a game they’ll be playing. Reinforced as he notices the busted fire hydrant they always pass when visiting the park with Mommy.

Vibrating now, Sammy shakes the red box. Babbling, going on about how excited he is for whatever game Dean thought up.

Dean gnaws on his lip with the one front tooth still in his mouth. “Careful with Baby, Sammy… you’re gonna tip her over!”

Earth-10k

“…with state-of-the-art tracking upgrades, undetectable weapons systems, and the most fuel-efficient engine the geniuses in R&D spent weeks agonizing over,” Dean slaps the roof of the pale teal smart car parked among rows of sleek, shiny, luxury vehicles, “Baby Number Twenty-Three is prepped and ready for our next hunt.”

Sam snorts, raising his glass in celebration. “That’s all well and good, Dean… but can we still get NPR?”

“Still get NPR?” Dean giggles, lips stretched in a tight, droll grin. “Samuel, the dashboard computer has an entire library filled with NPR’s back catalogue that we can listen to without a signal.”

“Good. Then we won’t be stuck listening to classic rock like during our last stakeout.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still trying to scrub my memory of the awful noise.”

“Took me three hours with some freeform jazz. Why don’t we put that on while we finish up this bubbly?”

Dean agrees, leaning through the window and hitting a button. Saxophones, trumpets, and an enchanting snare drum pour from the speakers. He sighs, leaning back out. “Now this… this is music.”

Sam reaches across the roof, tipping his glass. “Here, here.” Dean brings his own glass close. Clink!

Earth-783

Baby’s retired, but still loved. Hangs proudly on a wall between framed photographs of a young John Winchester, standing beside her on the beach with medals draped around his neck. Taken down whenever she loses her luster, and either Dean or Sam wax the shine back on her sleek, black wood.

Years after John’s death, no one takes her on the waves. Out of respect: for her, their father, and the bond they shared. Nothing more sacred than the love of a surfer and his board. They own a variety of boards – collected them. Beautiful boards, expensive ones, and the special few that have earned the brothers trophies, medals, and titles.

But there will only be one Baby.

Earth-2390.45

Sam waits by the open hangar doors, two beers in hand. Charlie stands nearby, binoculars held in shaky hands. “He’s cutting it a bit close, isn’t he?”

“This is Dean we’re talking about,” he tells her, “you know how he gets when he’s up there.”

“But he radioed in he was almost out of fuel! And that the left wing felt loose, and -”

“He’ll be fine,” Sam says, nudging her. Charlie looks away from the skies, glaring at him. He offers her one of the beers. “You know it. How many times has he flown her?”

She sighs, taking the drink. “Practically all his life…” Sipping at it, she frowns. Gestures wildly with her binoculars. “Still, I feel like recently he’s been taking too many risks. Making things more difficult than he needs!”

“Maybe he has,” Sam shrugs, “maybe it’s gotten boring, doing the same thing day in and out. So what if he bends the rules a little.”

“It matters when he could crash!”

“No, Dean wouldn’t go that way.” Sam smiles, Baby’s shape growing as she descends. Silhouette sharpening, engine growing louder. “He might be pushing his limits. Seeing how he can handle different situations… but we both know how much he loves that plane. Dean’d never do anything that puts her in jeopardy.”

Charlie hums. “I… guess your right.”

“Although,” he amends, grinning at her. Baby skidding to a stop on the runway, advancing towards them, “you can definitely chew him out for all that, too.”

Earth-200

Day after day, it’s the same routine. Sam and Dean return to their trailers at around four o’clock. They strip out of plaid shirts and denim, leaving their boxers and – if they were wearing them before – tanks on. For the next two hours, the brothers drift throughout the trailer while getting ready. Still undressed, powdering and painting their faces. Sometimes interrupted, like when one of their friends stops by for some quick gossip. Or Cas the fire swallower stops by, flirting with Dean as Sam perfects the curve of his eyebrow. If that runs long Sam will shoo him away with his wig, dragging Dean from the door.

It’s one of those nights.

“I don’t know why you won’t do anything,” Sam chuckles, fitting the rainbow curls over his head, “You two’ve been in love since we were kids.”

Dean’s glare shines through his reflection, although the massive red make-up smeared across his lips and fake tears under his eyes reduce the effect. “Shut up,” he says, applying more rouge, “it’s not… he wouldn’t be interested in me like that. ‘Sides, his dad is our boss. Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“I think it’d be awkward if you didn’t,” he says, “if he’s anything like our folks, Bobby’s already planning your wedding.”

“Shut up…”

Sam adds the last touch, adhering his bulbous red nose with some glue. He studies his face in the vanity mirror, checking for any mistakes. There’s none. Years of practice meant his mind could wander aimlessly but his hand will ensure a clean, finished mask every time. A mask for the people. A mask of his heritage. A mask that transforms Sam Winchester into Sammy the Angry Clown, straight man of the Campbell Duo.

Odd how, when he was younger, Sam never imagined a life like this. Like the one his parents’ imagined for him. Fought them at every turn, even applying for college. To become a lawyer. “A clown without the joy,” his dad called it.

But that’s the past. Now, he’s climbing into his multi-colored pantsuit and stuffing his large feet into even larger shoes. Dean does the same, handing Sam some ruffles while he searches the trailer for his shoes. “Do you know where I put them?”

“Check the chest,” Sam says, “I might’ve thrown them in there while cleaning.”

“Why were you cleaning?”

“To practice my unicycle.” Sam grabs some bowling pins stacked beside their sofa. “I didn’t want to trip over them and crash through the window… again.”

Dean snorts, digging through the chest per Sam’s instructions. “That was your own fault. Wasn’t my magazine left splayed open on – found ‘em!” He pulls the floppy shoes free, waving them around. His accomplishment doesn’t last. Dean notices that the sole peels around the toe box, and by poking at the tear he rips it further. “Dammit… I’m gonna look like one of those hobo clowns.”

“Why don’t you wrap some duct tape around your shoe,” Sam tells him, rising. “You’d still look like a hobo, but you won’t scare any kids with your funky feet.”

“Funny. What are you… a clown?”

“Takes one to know one, Dean!” Sam opens their trailer door, stepping outside, “I’m gonna go make sure our act’s ready. Why don’t you find me when you’re done getting ready?” Dean yells at him, Sam missing it as he lets the door slam behind him – cutting his brother off.

He traipses through the field towards the main tent, nodding along whenever someone passed. Never staying for a conversation. The other acts and crew could see he was busy, juggling the bowling pins. Always practicing, always perfecting. Dedication to the craft both embedded in his DNA and taught early on. Gifts his parents gave.

Like this. A small, yellow bug splattered with multi-colored spots and with multiple dents along her body. Her name messily scrawled on the driver’s side door – Baby. His father’s car, that he and his mom would perform in when they still clowned. The only thing John had of his father, that he passed on after hanging up the big, red shoes.

Sam slows his juggling, catching the third pin on its last arc. He shuffles the trio into one hand while he lifts the trunk with his other. The rest of their supplies lie in wait, left in usual chaotic dysfunction. Dropping the pins, Sam mentally checks off each part of the routine as he inspects the props.

Dean arrives halfway through, Sam handing off the giant, flake flower. He accepts it, pinning it on his tie. “Is it full?”

“Yep,” Sam helps feed the tube through his collar, watching Dean tug it down until the pump sits at his wrist. Dean’s fingers twitch. “Don’t even think about it. Save it for the act.”

“You’re no fun.”

“That’s the act, isn’t it?” Sam chuckles, closing Baby’s trunk. “Or is your memory getting spotty in your age?”

Dean rolls his eyes, shoving lightly at Sam. Sam responds in kind, nearly knocking Dean into some elephant dung no one cleaned up. He leans on Baby while he cackles, fighting the tears threatening to spill over. A nice distraction comes from Dean, who rams into his side. They streak over Baby, rolling off her and onto the hay-covered floor. Struggling, drawing the attention of everyone dawdling backstage.

They dirty their outfits some, but there’s enough time before the show starts. Sam expected some mishap, schedule built-in with extra time for unforeseen accidents or brotherly spats.

Day after day, it’s the same. He and Dean will cram into this tiny car, shoulders aching from how they press against each other. Packed in like sardines. Waiting for the musical cut that will send them into the ring. They’ll circle and circle while the audience claps, stopping when the tiny amount of gas in Baby’s tank runs dry. Then their long legs will unfold, stepping out under the spotlight.

The act begins, and Sam cannot fathom a life without the roar of the crowd, his brother by his side, and their family’s chariot. Without laughter.

Earth-4499

Providence seems more a dream than an actual destination. Especially after they sacrificed one of their oxen for meat, their reserves dangerously low.

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Dean says, rubbing his shoulder, “we still got the other. And Baby. We’ll be in Oregon by November!”

Sam doubts that, the fall chill cutting through their thin button-downs. His temperament was not aided by an earlier stumble in some mud, robbing him of dry shoes. Right now, he bundles another blanket around his bare feet; shuddering a ghostly breath while Dean whips the ox forward.

Baby, their large Conestoga, might look sturdy. But her wheels creak more with each passing day. From an outsider’s perspective, she looks safe. They would be shocked hearing how, when fording a river, she tipped. Brothers nearly drowning under her weight. She might appear warm. But Sam’s frostbitten fingers and red nose prove its faults.

Dean wouldn’t part with her for a better model, however. “She’s family, Sam,” Dean says, “When ma and pa set forth, all they had was her. We’ll do the same.”

Sentimentality might be their downfall. Soon, Baby won’t be a wagon. Nor will she be a reminder of their home. Baby will be their coffins.

Sam sneezes, and hopes it’s the only one for the day. His rumbling stomach already offers its own worries.

Earth-92

Days like these Dean wishes he kept working. Jack kept kicking his seat, an arrhythmic pattern that forces his lips into a stern frown. And between his crying and Claire’s complaining, Dean misses most of what his husband says. “Can you please repeat that?” he asks, spinning the dial towards its highest setting.

“I said,” Cas’s voice booms, Dean wincing from the sound, “That the doctor called my cell. He was able to fit me in Saturday at four. You’re not using the car, then, right?”

“No, I –“

“Jack! Stop it, you can’t have my phone while I’m using it!”

“I wanna turn! I wanna turn!”

“One moment…” He eases the brake pedal, slowing before the red light. Then, Dean whips around to face his children. “Jack, Claire, can you please keep the volume down while your pop and I are talking?”

Claire huffs, leaning forward. Out of Jack’s reach, his youngest straining in the car seat for her phone. She types on it, not looking at him. “Tell that to Jack. I’m talking with Alex.”

“Won’t you be seeing her in five minutes anway?”

“It’s important –“

Someone honks from behind them. Dean checks the traffic light, seeing green instead of red. “Shi-shoot.” He switches pedals, watching the road again. “Claire, give Jack one of his toys and put your phone away.”

Claire groans, stomping her foot. “Why should I?”

“If he can’t see it, he won’t want it.” After a moment’s silence, Dean checks the rearview mirror. She disobeys him, still using it. “Claire, I swear if you don’t put that away I’m driving us home.”

“But dad –“

“Don’t ‘but dad’ me, baby girl. Away.” Tone stern, he glimpses her shove the phone in her gym bag. Then grabs a dropped toy nearby. Dean sighs, focusing ahead of him – and on his husband. “Sorry about that.”

“No need,” Cas chuckles, papers shuffling in the background, “I enjoy it when you’re the bad cop. It doesn’t happen every day…”

“Because I hate it,” he grumbles, checking his blind spot while switching lanes, “so when you get home, ground Claire.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Make one up, and then I can talk you out of punishing her and be the good cop again.”

“Dads, you know I can hear you, right?”

“Quiet sweetie, adults are talking!” Dean hits his blinkers, making the left turn when appropriate. “So, the doc’s got you coming in that late? Is it important?” Nerves make his voice crack on the last word, and Dean hates how it does.

Cas hums from the other end, Dean imagining his husband’s pinched expression while he chooses his words carefully. To not worry him. “She mentioned something cholesterol. I think she wants to see me about my diet.”

“If that’s all,” Dean says, drumming his fingers along the wheel, “you better not sell me down the river.”

“I’ll try not to, but if she asks why I eat an abnormal amount of sweets I’ll have to be honest.” Cas laughs, Dean’s chest warming from the volume. At this volume, it feels like the soundwaves wrap him in a warm blanket. “Oh, I have to go. Your brother’s pointing at his watch from outside my office. I think we’re supposed to have a meeting?”

“Then what are you still doing on the phone?”

“Telling you and Jack and Claire that I love you. All of you. And Claire, good luck at practice today!”

“Thanks, dad!”

He hangs up, Dean lowering the volume before the radio comes back and deafens them. Unfortunately, he wishes it would. Because as Cas disappeared, his children’s bickering started up again. Jack upset that Cas didn’t wish him ‘good luck’. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t taking a karate class, nor comprehended what the concept of luck was. Claire received well wishes, he didn’t, and that is what he took away from the call.

They worked Dean’s last nerve. His vision blurred from the stress, Jack’s tantrum doubling in its fury. He drove on autopilot, too busy keeping calm. Finally, after Jack’s figure was thrown and hit the front windshield, Dean felt the straw rip. At the next red light, Dean acted.

“That’s it,” he turned, leaning into the second row. Claire and Jack stopped fighting immediately, staring at him with wide eyes. Dean must look crazed, but he cannot care enough to soften his features. Their fighting ripped off the warm blanket Cas’s voice provided, and he was chilled from the sudden exposure. “You two will sit quietly for the rest of the ride, otherwise when we get home it’s dinner and nothing else. Got it?” Claire nods sullenly, Jack fighting tears welling under his eyes. Dean’s heart seizes seeing his son upset, and that helps break frenzy fogging his senses. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that,” Dean says, calmer, “but when daddy’s behind the wheel he needs to concentrate. Otherwise people can get hurt. We could get hurt. And nothing would make me feel worse than if either of you kids were hurt because of me. I love you both too much to let that happen, okay? So please… be good?”

“Okay, daddy…” Jack sniffles, wiping at his eyes, “sorry…”

“Thank you, Jack.”

Dean retakes the wheel as the light turns green. It’s a block from Claire’s dojo, Dean readying his blinker. When he hits the gas, however, the car stays still.

By the time he realizes that, a semi-truck speeds through the intersection. Blowing its red light. Dean chokes back his curse, cars honking around him.

“Dad?” Claire asks, pitching forward in her seat, “Dad, what happened?”

“The uh… the car…” Dean steps on the gas pedal again, working now. He slowly inches through, drifting towards the first open space he finds. When parked, Dean’s composure fractures completely. Shattering into dust that piles in the footwell.

They were almost… that truck – it’s idiot driver – almost totaled their car. Did the very thing he warned Jack and Claire about. Images of bent metal, crumpled bodies, and blood cause the bile in his stomach to threateningly react. He squeezes his eyes, breathing deep until those pictures are replaced with soothing blankness. Counting, using the tricks his therapist imparted after his last big crash all those years ago. Getting his mind off the what could have happened and onto what did.

He’s safe. His kids, Claire and Jack, they’re safe. The car is –

The car. Dean hit the gas pedal but it didn’t budge.

At the dealer, when Dean searched for a new car after his old lease was up, the salesman hyped up all the new features. Sam listened with a skeptical ear, always asking questions. The right ones. Ones that made Dean feel smarter about his choices. He was in the car, too, with Dean and John. That fateful night.

“And this new safety feature?” Sam asked, dragging his hand along the black hood, “how exactly does it work?”

The salesman pointed at the front bumper. “It’s got built in sensors that are connected to the dashboard system. If it detects any danger, it can react faster than a human could. So if you and your husband –“

“Brother.”

“Right, brother, sorry, were driving –“

“This is his car. Not mine.”

“Well… if he’s driving, and he’s distracted because of something. And doesn’t see a pedestrian coming. Maybe a kid chasing a ball into the street… the car would stop for him.”

Dean knew which car he was leasing, then. Waiting for the sales pitch to wrap up so he can sign the three-year contract. A year in, though, Dean might screw the lease and buy the car fully. Make her the last Baby they ever get.

The Baby that survived.

Earth-32

Sam slams on the wheel, cursing as their car sputters off the road and onto untouched gravel. “No! No no no…”

“Sam!” Dean turns in his seat, gun still smoking. “Why’d you stop?”

“I didn’t,” he tells his brother, punching the wheel. It honks, rolling somewhat. Inching forward. “Damn car’s broken.”

Dean scowls, gun tilting dangerously towards him. “Don’t you talk about Baby like that.”

If there were time, Sam would calmly tiptoe through an apology while explaining what he meant in a manner Dean’s sensitive ego would appreciate. Unfortunately, Sam can hear the sirens approaching. And dust from the barren plains rides the gust, stinging his eyes. Compound his irritation from Baby’s fit. Meaning he accepts Dean’s twitching trigger finger without worry. “I don’t think we’re getting out of this.”

“Yes we are,” Dean says. He shoves the gun at Sam, jerking a thumb behind him. “Switch with me. She just needs a more practiced hand s’all.” While rounding the dark grey Ford, Sam stares into the distance. Red and blue flash, appearing over the curve. Dean ignores them, whispering for only his Baby. “I knew I should’ve been at the wheel. Even if it meant we were cutting it close.” Sam enters as Dean tries the ignition again.

Baby coughs, struggles, and then falls silent.

“No,” Dean groans, anger heavying his tone, “don’t be mad at me, girl. It’s me. Ol’ Dean…”

Sam thinks up a silent prayer. Sends it off in case there were angels listening. “Dean,” he says, laying a hand on his brother.

“We’ll be okay,” he lies, grin laughable despite how hard he tries. “We’ve been in worse scrapes before… always got out. Just another story for the news to run s’all. Winchester Brothers escape once more with their spoils, baffling pig cops and the king of sows himself, Ness…” Dean keeps up turning the keys. She doesn’t even feign a response at this point.

“Dean.” Sam tears Dean’s hands away. They’re shaking. Or maybe he is. Both of them are, knowing what waits them in the next few minutes. “It’s okay.”

Dean stares at his lap, tears threatening to spill. Like all his life, Dean reels them back before they can fall. “You think this was how we were gonna go out?”

“Always feared it might happen,” Sam admits, checking the ammunition in Dean’s tommy. Half-spent. “But I guess it’s par for the course when you do what we do. Did you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “even know it doesn’t feel… real, y’know? How could this happen to us? Dean and Sam – they called us the Untouchables. We’re fucking legends.”

“Maybe we weren’t the legends we thought, then.” A depressing thought that makes Dean slump further into his seat. Sam can see the sirens without turning his head, cars skidding in their approach surrounding them. He reaches for his gun, past the bags of money, and tosses it. Dean catches the heavier weapon. “But if we are… let’s hope there’s truth in that saying. About legends never dying.”

“Winchesters!” a deep, gravelly voice shouts from outside. Eliot Ness no doubt. “Come out with your hands up! If you make this easy on yourselves, I promise we can put you up in a nice pad behind bars where you belong!”

Dean looks past Sam out the window. Probably at Ness, himself. Meeting his stare. A tension existed there that went far beneath their professions and duties. He glances at Sam, “At least we’re going together.”

“Let’s give ‘em hell.”

Sam fires two shots as he exits the car. Dean barely opened the driver’s side door. Bullets rained upon them like a maelstrom, piercing them. Turning them into dust like that which they came from.

It comes in moments. Sam being held in Dean’s arms as their farmhouse burnt in front of them, mother lost. A drunk father who could barely raise a decent crop when America thrived. Days and days spent with a nose buried in books. When he took breaks from those, Dean made sure he lived life. Swimming in creeks, riding horses. Asking girls on dates after his brother talked him up.

Loans on the family property eating away at his father, more than the booze ever did. Burying him in a shallow plot near their mother. Losing the farm, thumbing across the country alongside every other victim of this Depression.

The hunger, the sleeplessness – the bank manager with poor temperament and slippery fingers. Their first robbery. So unpracticed, he and Dean only found their getaway car after committing the crime. Stealing her, too.

She was more than a car, though. She was home when the heat was scalding, and getting a room risked their lives. She was a symbol, of Dean and Sam, of their notoriety. She was their friend, helping them sort through issues.

Fitting, that when she died, so did they.

He blinks, feeling lightheaded. Body sluggish from blood loss. A shadow steps forward, bending, revealing Ness’s tanned face. Ness removes his hat, scanning Sam’s limp figure.

“Seemed a lot taller in the reports…”

Earth-81a

Dean polishes Baby’s handles one last time, loving how she glints in the sunlight. He rocks on his heels until gravity tips him over, forcing him onto his ass. Leans back, hands resting on asphalt as he pulls his knees towards his chest.

“Hey,” Sam calls, “who said you were done?”

He ignores his brother, staring at his beautiful Baby. “I am done, Sammy,” he drawls, “look at her… she can’t get any more perfect.”

Sam scowls, rag draped over Baby’s sidecar window. “Why don’t you help with this, then?”

“No way,” Dean chuckles, “not how it works. Y’know the rules: whoever rode Baby last cleans Baby, and sidecar…”

“Cleans sidecar…” Sam finishes, dunking the rag in a nearby bucket. Water sloshes and spills from the force of it. “Dumb rule though,” he mumbles, “especially when you purposefully drove through that mud pit.”

He grins, “There was no avoiding it!”

It’s not the truth, but neither feel the need to expose it.

Dean spotted the mud while idling at a red light, Sam busy scrolling through his tablet. Reading about a possible case in Texas, where hikers were washing ashore with holes in their chests. Construction went on nearby, piling the mud as they excavated a water-logged field.

He took a detour. Drove particularly close, waving at the construction workers while doing so. Sam yelped, frozen, mud sloshing against the sidecar. Some spilling into his lap and coating his sleeve. Then Dean sped past, hiding his laughter with Baby’s engine. Gaze pulled from the road every few seconds as Sam’s disgust proved too distracting.

Served him right, though. Dean balanced the scales, retribution for when Sam glued a suggestive sign on his helmet when he sat in the sidecar. Only realizing when they stopped for lunch three states deep.

“Why’d you do that,” he hissed, crumpling the notecard in his shaking fist; ‘I DO ANAL’ unintelligible from his strangling.

“What?” Sam poorly hid his pride behind a milkshake, shoulders shaking, “It’s not wrong.”

Dean spent longer than expected sifting through memories. Wading out of his mind, he sees Sam standing. “You done?”

“No,” he says, picking up the bucket, “but I’m tired. Think I’m gonna take a nap.”

Nodding, Dean focuses on Baby again. Drawing him from her was hard, especially after cleanings. “Dump that then, since you’re done.”

“Okay…”

Splash! Cold water races down his shirt, fabric sticking. He shudders a harsh breath, gasping from the shock of both the water and Sam’s action. His jaw hangs open, Dean slowly turning his head. Sam above with a terrible smile on his face. Innocent in name only. “You…”

“Have fun with that, Dean!” He drops the bucket, scurrying for the motel room. Dean jumps, sliding somewhat from the suds. A tiny obstacle that impacts him greatly, Dean reaching Sam when the motel door closes. Slamming against it, Dean bangs and bangs.

“Sammy! You open that up!”

“Sorry, Dean, I can’t hear you! I’m sleeping!”

Minutes seem like hours, Dean pounding the door until he gives up. Slinks back, defeated. Seeking comfort in a familiar shape.

He stretches across Baby’s seat, careful of his still-dripping clothes. Dean caresses her front light, sight, “Sam’s a big ol’ meanie… leaving him high and wet out in the cold… what are we gonna do to him next?”

Earth-406

It’s simple work, but it’s good work. It’s their work.

“Help me with this,” Dean says, motioning Sam over. His brother adjusts his cap, tucking flyaway back under while he crosses the deck. Dean, bent, fingers slipping on the heavy net, breathes a sigh of relief when Sam latches on. “Three, okay? One… two… three.”

They haul their catch over the edge, fish fighting the entire time. Their hands were whacked with tails and bit by snapping jaws, but they stayed firm. Pulling the rest of their haul up until all the fish flopped and died.

“Whoa…” Sam wipes his brow, picking up one of the fish, “these are huge. You sure Cas didn’t find this place near a toxic waste dump?”

Dean huffs, “Maybe they’re on whatever diet’s made you so big and strong?” Sam shoves at him, nearly forcing him off the boat as his foot slips. The fish underneath him taking revenge. He grabs Baby’s edge, catching himself. “Keep laughing, Sammy,” Dean drawls, glaring at his brother, “but how funny would it’ve been if I fell overboard and you had to do this all by yourself?”

“You’d’ve just gotten wet, drama queen.” Sam clears fish away with his feet, pushing them into piles they can easily manage. “Now quit playing around. We’ve got to get these packed away before they spoil. Otherwise this whole trip’d been a waste.”

He rolls his eyes but does as instructed.

Packing fish into Baby’s large cooler went by fast, Dean’s autopilot guiding him. Dean and Sam could do this while sleeping, so comfortable with these tasks. Having been on the sea since they were little, helping their father work on his boat. They did their homework on Baby, played on Baby, and when John took her far beyond usual paths, slept in Baby.

When he grew too old, he passed her onto those he knew would treat her right. Those who can uphold the family business. Men who have been fishing for all their lives.

It’s simple work, but it’s good work. It’s their work.

Earth-0

Sal finds his irritation fading when he sees his brother, Dean, stride towards a familiar car. “Dude,” he says, eyes widening in shock, “is that -?”

“Yep,” Dean answers, stroking his hand lovingly across her hood, “I’m glad you didn’t forget Baby.”

How could he? They both grew up in her, the blue 1965 Mustang the only home Sal ever knew. Staring at her, a million questions sprout like weeds in his mind. What’s she doing here? Why does she look this good? Is the army man he lost years ago still stuck in her ashtray? Of all those thoughts, Sal voices only one. “Dad lets you drive her?”

“He gave her to me,” he tells Sal, opening the driver’s side door. “Now come on, we can talk more about her while we’re on the road. Longer we drag our feet, the more likely dad’s in danger…”

It’s not great motivation for Sal, but he slides in without a fight. Brushing his thumbs on the leather seating, he pushes thoughts of his father to the back of his mind. Instead thinking about all the good memories; those he has of Baby, and coincidentally, of Dean.

Earth-1

Sam winces, Dean advancing too close in his tirade. “Okay, okay… sheesh. It was only a question. I didn’t mean to threaten the weird relationship you have with your car.”

Dean relaxes somewhat, shoulders still tense. He drains his beer in a single gulp, fingers flexing against the glass bottle. Given enough time, left alone, he can unwind once more. Although a thought strikes Sam that makes him risk his brother’s temper. Teasing too tempting.

“Y’know,” he chuckles, sliding his beer across the table. Back and forth. “Maybe in one universe, Baby isn’t a car. Maybe Baby’s a person. And that Dean and that Baby are finally fucking –“

“Sammy…” The slight edge of warning underlying his voice should give Sam a good idea as to the line he treads. “Don’t you…”

“Or does Baby being human even matter to you?”

“That’s it!”

Sam jumps out of his seat, avoiding Dean’s flailing hand. Flees while his brother climbs over the table, spilling what little remained of his beer. He hears his pounding footsteps after him, audible even though his own cackling bounces off the walls.

“Sam! Dean –“ They pass Cas and Jack, having hurried when hearing the commotion. Sam keeps moving, the distance between him and Dean lessening with each breath. How, Sam doesn’t know. Of the two, Dean’s only form of exercising aside from fighting monsters was running his mouth. But that’s definitely his hand brushing his shoulder. Dean urged on by pride, and the need to defend his Baby’s armor.

He makes a sharp left, skidding. Dean slams into the wall. Sam looks behind, briefly, spotting his brother’s fierce glare and tempered smile. “I’m gonna get you, Sammy!” he shouts, barreling towards him, “And when I do…”

They shoot out into the garage. Sam runs for safety, finding Baby. Dean follows.

Circling her, they take turns gasping for breath. They feel young – younger than ever. Decades worth of trauma shaved off, wrinkles smoothening, and souls lighter like when they were children. Hell, Heaven… Lucifer, Michael, and Chuck… all distant, fading dreams too impossible for reality.

Soon, Dean’s irritation fades. He forgets why he chased Sam into the garage. Sam notices the brighter mood of his brother but doesn’t needle him further.

Why spoil such a rare moment? Another good memory for Sam, Dean, and Baby.

Our Baby.

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #dean winchester #sam winchester #baby the impala #supernatural fanfic #castiel #destiel #deancas #15x13 destiny's child #supernatural coda

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imacrowcawcaw · 4 years

Text

7. 💋The Kiss - April 3rd

A/N: Here it is! The last installment…. *sheds a tear* No, I had fun and I’m happy I did this! And for all the lovely comments and attention it’s received; I write for myself but it gives me so much joy to see others engaging with my stuff. I’m glad that everyone has liked it. Alright, now onto the party!!!

Warning: some angst, then some kissy kissy kissin, and the usual amount of swearing

There was a fuck ton of food barbecued to perfection, as well as platters of other appetizers and snacks. There were coolers and a bar and a keg already half drained of beer. There was a large, chocolatey cake covered in strawberries, and big plates of cupcakes too. Food, dancing, decorations, presents, good music, friends and family.

Which is good cause Sam had purchased half of it and specifically asked for the other.

He looked around and grinned widely. He had eaten a delicious meal (or three), drank tons of alcohol, cut his favorite kind of cake (that actually got baked to his specifications thank god), and received two whole tables of shiny presents. Sam was having a great fucking time!

He sipped on whatever cocktail it was that Ronnie had handed him and stepped around three of his little cousins playing a card game on the floor. They grinned up at him and he smiled back, plucking a carrot stick from a plate and running away when Janey shrieked at him.

“Come back here you thief!”

“Nuh uh! It’s my birthday, Janey-poo. I can do what I want!” Sam yelled back at the little girl, who stuck her tongue out at him.

Right as he was about to get away scot free with his stolen loot, Sam bumped into a solid chest that immediately pressed against him.

“Is that so, hmm?”

A tequila-scented breath tickled the hair around his ear and Sam shivered. The voice, however, made him feel warm and sated, like he had just made love on a perfectly tempered Hawaiian beach. Two strong arms came around his torso and grabbed onto him, turning Sam around to face the owner of the voice.

Danny.

“Are you causing trouble?”

Sam blushed and automatically steadied himself with a hand on Danny’s shoulder. He was really warm and swayed into Sam’s touch -- apparently they were both quite tipsy already.

“Nah, I’m not. What’s up, doc? Want a carrot?”

Danny raised his eyebrow at Sam and eyed the vegetable in his hand suspiciously. He leaned forward and nuzzled his nose into the hair at his temples and Sam stiffened, surprised. What was Danny doing? Not that he didn’t like it - and not that they weren’t occasionally very close, especially when high - but this wasn’t exactly normal.

“You should give that back to Jane,” Danny whispered into his ear, and Sam could feel a hint of tongue on the rigid cartilage.

Sam gasped and clutched Danny tighter, turning his head so that he could have better access. Danny was licking the shell of his ear, humming low from his throat while he did it. His hands clutched tightly at Sam’s waist, and Sam was like twenty degrees past his boiling point by now. This was amazing.

“Fuck, Sammy, I hav-”

“I really don’t want it anymore.”

Wait, what?

Danny pulled away from him so swiftly that Sam could barely comprehend it. One moment he had been enjoying a surprising but completely welcome.... well, something (was an ear job a thing? Cause that was sexual as fuck) then Danny was standing back and blushing like he just realized what he had been doing.

Sam blinked the fog from his head and glanced around -- who had said that? Why was Danny acting like this, and why had he stopped?

Janey was looking up at them with the type of sassy, knowing expression that only a nine-year-old girl and Josh could pull off. She smirked - and it was really unsettling to see a child, much less his sweet little cousin, do that - and then tapped Sam on the back.

“Um. Yes?”

She looked at him like he was stupid, and Sam kind of felt like it. What had she seen? Was she going to tell his mom like he was the little kid being naughty when Danny had been doing -- what would he have done if they continued?

Danny was still holding him in his arms, but he was silent and Sam could practically feel the regret washing off of him. He started to panic as scenes of distant, awkward interactions for the rest of their lives played out before him.

Janey was still standing there, now tapping her foot with crossed arms. Sam’s other two cousins had wandered over at some point and were standing behind her, looking up at him and Danny with indecipherable expressions -- but Janey was clearly the leader.

“Uh, Janey? Do you need something?” Danny asked, and he looked extremely uncomfortable; big eyes pleading with her for mercy, which Sam found extremely worrying.

She rolled her eyes and flipped a wrist. “You’re blocking the food table. AND Sam stole my carrot. I’m hungry.”

“Oh, right- uhh, sorry.”

Sam moved aside and pulled Danny with him, watched the three children file by and fill their plates with all sorts of sugar he knew they weren’t supposed to have. He couldn’t actually feel it, but he knew his face was flushing red from embarrassment and confusion.

Danny cleared his throat next to him and Sam glanced over. He realized that he was still gripping his best friend tightly by the shoulder and he let go, patting him awkwardly on the arm before ceasing all contact. They parted ways with a weird combination of soft, familiar smiles and avoided eye contact then Sam was left standing in the corner with a cocktail glass in one hand and the fucking carrot in the other.

God. What was happening?

------

Sam sat at a folding table and picked at his third slice of cake. Josh was next to him, talking about… something, maybe- probably films, and Sam was easily ignoring him like he usually did. GAG was done so there was no need to respond to the quips and questions geared to start a debate.

Josh slowly trailed off and Sam looked up at the silence after a minute, curious. He found his brother staring right back at him with a very constipated expression -- Sam had the brief thought that Josh was trying to work through all that cheesy-bread he’d eaten and maybe he could, like, not do that at the table? Please? But then Josh spoke and things started clicking into a place oft visited in the past few days.

“You’re upset about something. Danny. What happened?”

Oh lord not again. Sam was glad for the support-slash-teasing, but he was just so done answering all the questions the twins kept firing at him. He didn’t know what was happening, okay?! Danny had never shown any interest in him, or any other men for that matter, and that weird little thing earlier was probably just because of the alcohol. Danny didn’t love him back. They had to stop trying to convince him otherwise.

Sam told Josh exactly that, with much conviction, and it was a very bittersweet feeling to watch the emotion slideshow his face went through. Patience, confusion, exasperation, confusion again, anger, curiosity. He was like a carousel of carnival masks.

“You’re such an idiot.”

And now Jake was here. Yay.

His second-oldest brother continued. “A gay, oblivious, completely and utterly stupid idiot. So is Danny, but-”

“No more buts! I am finished with this conversation, and I want you to leave me alone tonight. I’m trying to have a good time here.”

“Cause that’s going well,” Josh snorted and Sam glared at him.

Couldn’t they just let him wallow in his murky confusion?! What was that saying -- it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to? Well, Sam wasn’t going to cry in front of his guests, but he could feel it building behind his eyes and he knew that the waterworks would be coming that night when he was finally alone.

And suddenly, Sam was angry at Danny, too. How dare he? He had to know how Sam felt, and he had teased him like that. Held him close, whispered in his ear, licked him -- and then broke away like he was ashamed and shocked to even be near Sam.

He was actually going to cry now. It was coming, and Sam was leaving with a flurry of long, skinny legs, cries behind him of “Wait, Sammy! Your surprise! You can’t leave!”

But he could, and he was going to.

There was a large oak tree that he used to climb when he was a kid and needed to get away from everything. Sam ran to it now, pulling himself up on memory-imprinted knotholes while his vision clouded with salty tears. The tree was his and Danny’s favorite spot when they were younger -- after they had finished their snacks and homework, both boys would race each other to the top and look out at the land before them.

It sort of hurt, to be in this spot where good memories with his best friend hung from every branch like ornaments, but it was also comforting.

Sam let himself be hugged into the wooden arms of the oak as he silently cried, surrounded by thoughts of love and realities of desolation. He was a mess. His eyes stung and his head was tipsy from all the drinks and he’d eaten too much food and he just wanted to go home now and he couldn’t fucking stop crying, dammnit.

How had this happened? It had hurt, but Sam had been fine with just being friends; laughing close and longing from afar. Now he was confused and in pain. How could he go on with this one taste of what could have been?

He thought of all that had happened this week. All the preparations, the anticipation, his cycling feelings of hope and sadness. He was so tired.

------

Sam woke up in a fucking tree. What the hell? How did he get up here? Why was he up here? How on Earth did he not fall out while he had, apparently, been asleep?

He carefully steadied himself against the trunk with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. What day - well, night now, actually - was it? Why did his head hurt so much?

There was a shuffling below him, and Sam looked down to see Danny staring up at him with his big, sad puppy dog eyes.

That was good. Even if he was in a tree and he didn’t know where the tree was or what day it was, Sam could count on Danny to be there for him. As in, supporting him by the hips while he shakily climbed down.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I just got so excited that I kind of forgot to give you your present first and Josh said that you wouldn’t mind but you clearly do, and-”

Danny stopped talking - babbling really, since he was clearly nervous - when he realized the utter confusion on Sam’s face.

Sam was very confused indeed. What the hell was Danny talking about? He was getting some half-baked memories back from his brain that told him something had recently gone down. Something big. But he was having trouble piecing it all together and the very apprehensive looks from his best friend weren’t really making him eager to remember.

“Oh my god, did I confess to you?”

The thought suddenly flew into his brain and out of his mouth in a woosh of air that felt a lot like horror movie chills. Oh god, what had he done?

“What? No, Sammy, I- or, I was going to… Wait, did you hit your head? You’re acting really weird. Do you not remember?”

Maybe he had. Sam sat down against the tree trunk, pulling a concerned Danny with him, and forced a thought process.

Where was he? At the base of his favorite oak tree on the edge of their property. What day was it? It was his birthday, actually, or maybe very early the morning after. Who was he with? Danny - which seemed obvious - but Sam was starting to worry that he did actually hit his head; it usually didn’t take this long for his brain to get back online after a nap.

Why had he been in the tree, and what was Danny apologizing for? Now that was the ticket question.

Oh.

FUCK.

This was not an ideal situation. He had been having a good time at his party, then Danny had gone and metaphorically hung him by his ankles, probably not on purpose, THEN Sam had moped about and stormed off - like a toddler - when the twins tried to help him figure it out. And then he took a nap in a tree. And now Danny was holding him and probably feeling really bad about what happened because he looked like he was about to cry way more than Sam had earlier.

“Fucking hell.”

“Um, yeah,” Danny agreed with a small, nervous laugh.

Sam looked at him and sighed, then rested his head on Danny’s shoulder. Why had he been mad at him? Danny was clearly drunk and had no clue about his crush -- he refused to believe he was as obvious as the twins insisted. He was just worried about why Sam was sleeping in a tree when he should have been enjoying his twenty-first birthday, and this had nothing to do with what had happened. Duh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just needed some time alone, and I guess I fell asleep. Is the party still going?” Sam asked, trying to smile and put on a fresh face.

Danny still looked hesitant.

“It is, but a lot of people left too. It’s late, dude. Midnight. You sure you’re okay? Josh said that you were really upset, and I-”

Sam laid his hand over Danny’s and he stopped talking again, looking up at him.

He was so goddamn beautiful, and Sam was totally getting lost in his eyes like a cheesy romance novel. So gorgeous. All swirling hazel and green with little flecks of brown and reflections of distant party lights.

Danny blushed high on his cheekbones and stared right back at Sam. He moved in closer and cupped his face in his hand.

Sam barely even noticed it; he was too busy watching the pretty face before him that was slowly moving closer-

Oh. Holy. Shit!

Danny was kissing him. Danny was kissing him. Danny was kissing him. DANNY WAS KISSING HIM?!

Sam squealed - and he didn’t even care - and kissed back. His enthusiasm seemed to push Danny back a bit in surprise, but Sam’s mouth followed. He didn’t care if he was making noises like a guinea pig, or if his ass was cold and wet from the night dew-covered grass, or even if this was some weird concussion dream. Danny was kissing him!

Their tongues met and Sam melted even more into the warm, solid body next to him. His hands reached for Danny’s hair and one of his knees swung onto his best friend’s lap as big hands clutched at his cheeks.

It was everything he had thought it would be and so much more.

Danny pulled his mouth away after a minute and rested their foreheads against each other, panting. He gave one more quick peck and then pulled back to look at Sam with shiny, love filled eyes.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you for- forever, it feels like, and I think that you love me, too. I couldn’t stand it anymore so I, I guess I decided that I was going to give myself as a present this year, and hopefully it would work out well.”

Sam was floored, and also very happy. He was going to be suspicious that this was a joke, but then he abandoned it -- Danny would never. He was completely incapable of doing something so cruel and dishonest as to pretend, and Sam honestly felt really bad about getting mad at him earlier.

He smiled, big, and hung his arms around Danny’s neck.

“Thank you. This is, like, the best present ever. You know I’ve been thinking about this for years?”

Danny’s eyes crinkled and he kissed Sam again, sweet little pecks all over his lips and chin.

“I kind of thought so. I’m really happy this worked- Oh! I do actually have another present for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Uh, here,” Danny mumbled as he thrust a hand into his pocket and fumbled around.

His hand came back and suddenly there was glitter everywhere. Sam was getting flashbacks to a few days ago in the Wagner’s dining room and he giggled.

“I got you a bracelet, and I added some, uh, pizzazz, to the gift presentation. I hope you don’t mind. My thinking was that, even if you didn’t like my other gift, I could still get you something kind of cool. If you did, though….” He trailed off, gently clasping the jewelry around Sam’s thin wrist. “I want to use it to ask you to be mine.”

Sam was probably going to cry again. He nodded and kissed Danny desperately to fight off the tears, then pulled back to inspect his new bracelet. It was made of small, carved, silver disks that glittered with inlaid gems. Blue and white diamonds, Sam realized; white and blue, the color of their birthstones, and diamond was also the material of Sam’s. Each gem was ringed with a small strip of gold to fold it in place, and the entire bracelet was surprisingly thin and discreet -- not some gaudy, overly-flashy piece of costume jewelry. It wasn’t too small to appreciate the details, though, and the metal already felt warm and lightweight on his wrist; it was absolutely perfect.

“It’s beautiful, thank you. And I love you, too.”

“Good! I’m glad that you like it and that this wasn’t a horrible idea.”

Sam shook his head vehemently. He stood up with help from his new boyfriend (holy shit) and they walked hand in hand back towards the party.

Josh and their mom were getting down on the dance floor to Tom Petty and Sam laughed. The sound drew the attention of Jake; at first he looked apprehensive, but when he saw their linked hands, he grinned widely.

Jake walked over to them, snagging three beers on the way. He opened them and handed one to each, eyeing Sam’s new jewelry with a knowing eye.

“Happy birthday, man.”

“Yeah, happy birthday, baby,” Danny agreed, pulling Sam into him and kissing his temple.

Sam beamed. Happy fucking birthday to him!

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