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stusbunker · 11 months

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Tattered: The Things We’ve Been Promised and Fought for

A SPN ABO Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Dean, Cas/Meg

Word Count: ~5600

Warnings, etc: Rushed through rut sex, Dean disappearing to go after the Leviathans, building a bigger pack, the babies arrive (hospitals, blood, c-section, nursing), and a jump forward

Series Masterlist

Special shout out to @lastactiontricia for putting up this series the entire time.

SAM

Cas was actually right. She’s fine. The babies are fine. I don’t know if I’d call it a miracle, but it’s a win and we’ll take it. The doctors asked her if she’d be interested in being included in a medical paper. She told them she’d think about it, being warned by an angel about our claim imbalance is a bit harder to reproduce in further studies.

And the last thing we really want is more questions.

She smells like sunbaked wheat fields and some kind of pastry, warm and comforting as she nuzzles me awake. Dean’s on his belly, head shoved between his pillows snoring gently. He’s dreaming vaguely, so I know we’ve got time to ourselves. I reach down and palm her ass, scooping her onto my lap as I tug the sheer nightgown up by my fingers.

She’s bare against my belly as she starts to kiss me, slow and teasing. I eat it up.

I hold her jaw in the palm of my hand slowly lap into her mouth, tasting and tempting as she gets wetter against me. She’s so solid now, the pups’re over a pound each and getting bigger every appointment. I want to keep her close, make sure she’s this healthy and safe always. Fill her up over and over so no one questions that she is spoken for, claimed by and possessing both our hearts. I need to be inside her, ten minutes ago.

She groans and then chuckles knowingly. “Your rut is coming up, I can smell it, it’s almost smokey on your skin.”

“What are we gonna do?” I ask, worry sinking in my gut.

“What we always do, fuck like crazy, hydrate. Rinse and repeat.”

“But what about the pups?”

She smirks down at me like I’m an idiot. “Sam, alphas have been fucking their pregnant omegas since the begining of time. Rut sex isn’t a threat, unless you tie me down and leave me somewhere—”

“I would nev-”

She brushes her thumb over my lips. “I know, stud, I know. I’m just saying. We’ll get through it. Dean might be pissy, but he gets his turn soon enough.”

I nod against her hold on my chin and she rewards me with a firm kiss. I hug her close and breathe in the calm she radiates, nosing against her hair. I won’t hurt her. I can’t.

She reaches between our bodies and starts stroking me back to life. I groan, watching as she rubs against my side, riling herself up just as much. I spin us on to our sides and she rolls to slot her ass against me, keeping it quiet for Dean, who’s still asleep behind me.

"Easy," I murmur and kiss the back of her neck. I sink inside her slowly, inch by inch. She's even tighter at this angle and I close my eyes and breathe. I need to make this last for her.

She gasps and starts rocking against me, so I pull her tighter to my chest. The smell of her slick fills the room and I love her so much I don't know what to do with it all. I cup her tit and marvel at how heavy they've gotten, nuzzling against my claim on her neck.

I push into her in shallow rolls. My knot is hot against her ass. But we're in no hurry. She keeps sighing and squeezing me. My name coming out in little slices of whisper.

"It's okay, baby."

She breaks off on a moan and I brush my fingers over her nipple to give her more. But I keep it slow, building, trying not to rush anything. She pulls my fingers off her nipple and sucks them into her mouth, which is just —- then she drags them out and down to her clit. And as I slide them against that swollen nub, she clenches and my knot throbs. I gasp against her hair, trying to breathe through it all.

Stopping myself from fucking her into the mattress, because I know she likes to be tossed around, even now.

“Make me come first, Alpha—- Sam, please, I’m so close—,” she demands more than begs and I’m fucking trying, but she’s so wet I’m losing any purchase I have on her clit. I seal her lips around it, and rub, feeling it all hot and grinding against my hand. She’s digging her nails into the back of my neck, holding me as close as we can get from this angle and I’m going to explode.

I teeth down the side of her face, landing on the hinge of her jaw and instead of biting her, I suck the smooth skin into my mouth. I can feel her blood drawing into the bruise, the delicious heat. Her claws are latched into my flesh and she keens, coming with a bucking thrash against my side— her legs kicking the last of the blankets off my side of the bed.

I lick the sweat off her neck and pin her mound with the heel of my hand as I finish rutting my knot into her pulsing core. God— I swear I don’t know how I fit, but she fucking makes room for me or something because when I lock into place it’s like the first day out of the cage again. Her scent floods me with completion— contentment and I’m blinking away the tears. Mine. Ours. Us.

I place my hand on her belly, dragging it up and down, feeling the shape of our pups inside and I pour even more pride and love into the air.

When we wake up, Dean’s gone. He left us a note saying: ‘Have a good rut. Fridge is stocked.’

It takes us two days to realize Cas and Bobby are gone too, between the house and salvage yard it’s a ghost town and we both know that can’t be good. But I can’t go and find anybody with a constant erection and reeking of rut. Besides, she’s got us nested down so good I’d probably lose my nuts if I even suggested we leave.

We’re both exhausted, but hydrated. And I’m eating her out like I’m going for the record. Not that Dean and I keep score, or anything. Or at least not that she knows about.

She’s riding my face and I can’t even see her tits anymore, her belly’s so big and that’s saying something because her tits have never been better. Fuck she’s so close I can taste the change in her slick— like it gets ultra concentrated just before —- I’m drowning in it, slurping it up and feeling her thighs trembling against me.

I’m hard as fucking steel and I don’t even want to touch my dick. I want to stay here on the verge of suffocation surrounded by my mate’s scent, her warmth. It makes me think of poems from school, of dying willing in your lover’s arms. Take my life, it is already yours.

And then she’s gone, slumped against the pillows and fanning herself as she catches her breath. I grin at her and wipe my mouth off with the back of my arm. She rolls her eyes at me and beckons me closer. I fall against her, hugging her middle as best I can while arching around the pups. My dick is persistent, but remains ignored along her leg.

She plays with my hair and I moan as she starts to scratch my scalp.

I can smell it on her before she voices it out loud, but still she says. “I’m worried about Dean, Sam.”

“I know, me too.”

"Do you think the Leviathans got them?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Just like that. No?” She looks at me like I’m lying to her, which I haven’t been able to manage since I got my soul back.

I shake my head, chewing on the explanation for my conviction. “It’s just, we’d feel it if something big happened, wouldn’t we? I think they’re hunting, but I don’t think it’s Def Com 6 here. Plus Cas and Bobby are with him— Dean’s gonna be fine.”

“You’re not just saying that because you want to keep fucking like rabbits, right?”

I sigh and try not to glare at her. But she smirks at me and I know she knows I was being sincere. “Very funny.”

“Dean’s not the only one that can give you shit, mister,” she teases, sinking further down my body to plop into my lap.

I nuzzle my nose against hers and she hums before she kisses me firmly on closed lips. “Even though you’re sure, I’d feel better if everyone was back home. So! Let’s see if we can get this rut over quickly then, just in case.”

I shake my head at her front of nonchalance, but agree wholeheartedly. “Can’t argue with that.”

They pull into the driveway two days later, dragging the impala behind them in Bobby’s truck. And they’re not alone. Cas and Meg ride in on the bed of the truck, presumably because they couldn’t be killed by something as inconsequential as an accident. And there’s Charlie, who I’ve only really talked to on the phone, looking a little dazed, but enthusiastically climbing out of the cab to shake hands with Y/N and me. Both Bobby and Dean look like they haven’t slept in days, and Dean’s got a shiner and his new coat is still covered in Leviathan juice.

“So?”

“We got him, Sammy. Dick’s dead. They’re all gone.”

“What, seriously? How?!”

“Bone of a nun, straight to the neck,” Dean gestures and grins, wagging his eyebrows. “I stuck it to ‘em.”

Our Omega, having enough of Dean’s antics, pulls him in for a proper scenting, opening his jacket and looking him over as he rests his hands on her hips, widening his stance so he is low enough to look her in the eye. “I’m fine, honey, really.”

“Tell me everything, from the beginning, like how you ran out on us without any way of knowing where you were!” She fumes, shaking him by the collar and pushes him away. Dean barely has to step back to withstand the weak force of her shove. He sighs and rolls his neck to look at me for back up. I hold up my hands and claim no loyalty in this spat.

He flips me off.

“Look, Sammy needed you here and, well, we got word it was time to move on the head honcho, so we took it.”

“What happened to Baby?”

Meg spoke up for the first time, husky voice deliberately unmussed. “That would be me. Drove her through their little glass welcome screen. Lucky me, I got to be a diversion.”

The story slowly unravels, Charlie sneaking Dean and Cas in. Cas identifying the real Dick Roman or the head chomper wearing his face. Saving the prophet Kevin, who they somehow lost when Crowley stepped in to help. And Cas flying Dean out of the blast zone just in time before the Leviathans got literally sucked back into Purgatory.

“So, uh, we’ve still got some clean up to do. Finding the kid. But I think —” Bobby explains before he gets cut off by Cas.

“We did good.”

“You’re damn right we did,” Dean agrees, holding hands with the mother of our children as we all drink and eat around the large banquet table Bobby built for us.

I can’t believe it’s over. “Well, Crowley can’t be too hard to get a lead on. We’ll get Kevin back to his mom.”

And just like that the mood turns sober. Before long, Bobby and Y/N take Charlie back to his house to help get a room ready for her to crash in until she gets her next move figured out. Which leaves Meg, Cas, Dean and I continuing to sip our drinks and shoot the shit.

“Look at you Winchesters, properly domesticated and everything,” Meg teased, eyeing the beams above her head and taking in the quality of Dean and Bobby’s craftsmanship.

“I know, right?” I agree, unable to stop the heat that burns across my cheeks.

“Awww, it’s okay, Sam. Maybe we all deserve a little bit of happiness this side of the apocalypse,” Meg says to Cas more than anyone. Cas, who had been eerily quiet, suddenly looks up and they lock eyes with something earnest and maybe a little dirty passing between them.

I clear my throat before Dean gets offended, because he’s already weirded out that we broke the warding for Meg. “You guys have any plans? Cas, any word from Daphne?”

“Uh, no, unfortunately when I didn’t return promptly from my first visit, she slowly realized that my abilities couldn’t be the claim to fame she was seeking. So, we parted ways and as I couldn’t be legally married as I don’t exist as a citizen, we didn’t really have to annul anything.”

“Heartbreaker,” Meg taunts.

“Wow, that’s good, Cas. I guess. One less loose end,” Dean agrees.

“I know you’ve been hanging out with Bobby a lot, thinking about sticking around? The more the merrier, right Dean?” I ask pointedly.

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I need to talk to Heaven, see if I can begin to atone. But it would be nice to have a homebase of sorts on Earth,” Castiel replies almost shyly.

“Well, you know where to find us, man. Because until those pups are out and until they’re walking, we’ve got one job to do,” Dean says and it all hits me. We don’t have to keep hunting. Sure, we can, but we don’t have to. We can have a life. Bobby will put us to work and we’ll do what we can for money, but once Kevin is safe. We’re just gonna be dads.

It’s unreal.

DEAN

It’s been two weeks since we took down Dick and yet Meg and Cas and hell, even Charlie have stuck around. Though Bobby won’t let Meg in his house, considering she tried to kill him at least once. But at this point, who hasn’t she tried to kill?

Charlie’s fascinated with all things hunting and the demon-angel team up sounds like something out of one of her video games so she can’t stop asking questions. Bobby’s actually having a lot of fun having her around, think she’s growing on the old bastard by sheer earnestness. And there’s our Omega, who is about fit to burst. She’s gone through the babies’ room everyday trying to figure out what we forgot, what we’re missing.

Her waddling around like that makes me stupid and proud, but also just so damn happy that I start putting my foot in my mouth because it all seems too good to be true. Sam hates it when I piss her off, but it’s not like it’s intentional. I just can’t leave well enough alone.

The current argument is over names. Because everybody’s healthy in there, so we start getting serious about these pups we’re gonna meet any day now.

“Do not say John again— I will smack you,” Y/N growls.

“Dean, yeah, man, come on,” of course Sam agrees with her.

I know my dad’s name comes with a lot of baggage, but I still miss the son of a bitch anyway. Just not quite why she’s got such a vendetta against it, it’s a classic name.

I grumble and concede this time. “Okay, fine, what do you like?”

“Jasper or maybe Jeremiah,” she replies, not bothering to look up from her little notebook that she has them all listed out on.

“Can we stay away from Pop culture names? Jasper is really popular lately,” Sam asks delicately, because yeah, we’re not doing the vampire name game, but still I hold my breath waiting for her to explode.

She sighs and crosses it off the list.

I see how tired she is and rub her knee under the table. “How about we go back to the girls’ names? Huh? Maybe if we get a small enough pool, we can narrow down the boy’s name better.”

We discuss names for another hour. Nobody agrees on any three names. But there’s some progress. Sort of.

Sam makes fajitas and I go and find Cas, even though he doesn't eat, gotta let everybody know it’s dinner time. He’s standing in one of the fields that I’m pretty sure don’t belong to Bobby, but I’m not about to go tattling either.

“Hey, man, soup’s on.”

Cas turns on me, all squinty eyed and concerned. “Hello, Dean.”

“Can you grab Meg and tell her to wash up for dinner? Sam says it will be ready in a minute here. I’ll go tell Charlie and Bobby.”

He walks with me towards the main house, but something must be up because he’s extra quiet. Not like listening to the universe or angel radio quiet, just thoughtful. He doesn’t go looking for Meg and soon we are stomping up the back steps in through Bobby’s kitchen.

“Dean? How did you know you were ready to take a mate?” Cas' question comes out of left field, but it also makes a lot of sense with the way he’s been acting.

“Uh— I don’t think I was ready, man. I mean, look at us, we kind of fucked things up before we really got it right. Why?”

“I also seemed to have—- fucked things up. When I lost my memories— with Daphne. But I realize now that I probably wouldn’t be able to make a human mate happy.” Cas looks up at me with a wavering dare in his eyes.

“Oh, shit!” I can’t believe he means—

“Don’t tell Sam, not yet. I just have begun thinking about pursuing her.”

“Yeah, man, I get it. But what about making amends with Heaven? A demon mate can’t be too far down on the No-No list.”

“Mating in general is considered beneath us, Dean.”

I can’t help the heat of shame that rises up, gaping at my best friend like a middle schooler during health class. But Cas has been in the trenches with us mud monkeys long enough, I guess I had forgotten just how holy he was. Maybe it’s also because we’re standing in Bobby’s too small kitchen and I can feel the old man’s eyes on me like an overzealous librarian.

“You got a reason for busting in here with your locker room talk or just felt the need to make everyone else uncomfortable?” Bobby glares at me then looks at Charlie who just waves innocently.

“Uh, food?” I swallow and try again. “Dinner’s ready.”

By a fucking miracle, we all make it to our place without more oversharing on anybody’s part.

Everything is so loud, but it’s like background loud, sitting next to a horror movie showing loud. Which is fitting, because there’s a lot of blood. And it’s getting harder to see, but I can’t do anything about it because my hands are full.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m your dad— one of ‘em anyway.” I swear she turns and looks at me, like she knows the sound of my voice. But her eyes are squeezed shut and she’s still screaming. And I’m crying worse than she is, because she’s here and she’s healthy and Y/N is a fucking miracle worker. She’s perfect.

They’re all perfect.

Sam’s got the boy while the doctors clean up his little girl. She had a cord wrapped around her neck, but they could see everything once they got in there, so she’s fine. Sophia. That’s the name Sam and Y/N picked for her. Wisdom. It fits.

I’m bouncing Joni, trying to get her to calm down as they put our Omega back together again. I walk over to where her face is behind the curtain, show her how amazing she is. How awesome our pup is. Pups are.

“Hey, Mama,” I can’t keep the tease out of my voice, I’m just so fucking happy. “Somebody wants to say hi.”

“Hi!” She sobs out, reaching as best she can with her arms pinned down to kiss a tiny forehead.

The nurses clear some room on her chest, get her arms free so she can hold her, skin-to-skin they say. Once I know she’s got Joni good, I go and see how Sophie’s doing. Her cry is reedy, softer than her sister’s but still breaks my heart wide open. Once the nurse says I can, I scoop her up and hold her tight against my shoulder, whispering to her as we bounce-step over to her mom.

“Sorry, sweetheart, we had to give Mama a minute. But now we’ve got you. Everybody’s safe.” I tell her as much as myself. I lock eyes with Sam as he is scenting Jimmy’s dark head. Leave it to our son to come out with a full head of hair.

He’s not talking, but I can tell Sam’s just as much a mess as I am. I walk over and show off Sophie and he hands me our boy in exchange. He’s all wide eyed and looking around at everybody. Never seen a baby so alert. But I’m guessing that will change. These three are gonna put us all through the ringer— fill our lives with the new and the unknown.

It’s mesmerizing. And terrifying.

It’s a long time before they move us into a family room, they don’t even let us carry them down the hall. Instead we have three little plastic boxes on wheels that we push, along with a nurse, behind Y/N’s gurney. They help her figure out how to feed them. And I know Sam’s listening to all the technical crap about latching and pumping.

But I am just amazed at her, exhausted as she is, cooing down at our pups as they nurse. Joni’s the smallest, but they all made it long enough to not have to worry about being hooked up to anything. Which I am gonna call Cas out on later, because the odds were near impossible on avoiding a NICU stay with triplets, but somehow we managed it.

Joni and Jimmy have been burped and are sleeping in their little blanket burritos tucked into a single bassinet. They’re used to close quarters and I can already tell they’re better together than apart. Sophie sleeps against Y/N chest, too tired from being born to really eat yet, but the nurse says it’s normal. Sam grabbed a shower and eventually Y/N will get a turn, but she’s got to worry about all the stitches and staples, so it might be just sponge baths for a few days.

I try not to get excited about helping her with those.

We’ve got a lot more things to worry about now. And that kind of thinking got us here in the first place. I lose the last layer of scrubs and leave the bathroom door open so I can hear them if they need me, if a nurse catches a peek, who cares at this point. Finally, we’re all clean and wedged on her bed, a baby a piece and everything quiets down. We shift and scent and just exist together for the first time, all six of us. God, it’s a whole pack now. We’re a real family.

Nothing will ever be better than this.

Five Years Later

Bobby

If I wasn’t already losing my hearing, the shrieking coming out of the backseat would have done it. I pull up to the drive in and wait for the carhop to come and take our orders. Don’t tell Rufus, but this minivan handles pretty damn well.

“Grandpa? Can I have poppers?” Joni asks like it’s normal for a little girl to be ordering deep fried peppers.

“No, doll, we’re having dinner at home. This is just a quick treat, but don’t go telling on me. Your dad will be all whiney about ruining your dinner and your daddy will be mad we didn't bring him home anything.”

They all giggle.

The waitress taps on my window and I tell her, “four rootbeer floats please. Extra napkins if you got ‘em.”

“Sure thing, hun. That’ll be eighteen eighty.”

I give her a twenty and a couple of singles, waving away the offer of change.

“Thanks, it’ll be right up.”

I can feel them all fidgeting in their little booster seats, so I turn around and unbuckle myself to talk to them better. “You have fun today?”

Sophie’s staring out the window and hugging her little ratty stuffed rabbit. But she smiles and nods. Joni and Jimmy are both bellowing, trying to be louder than the other. “Yes! It was so fun!”

“Good.” I say, trying not to get too pleased with myself.

The mugs arrive and the pups are sticky from head to toe by the time we hand them back to the carhop, mostly empty. The extra napkins get wadded up and shoved into a grocery bag Y/N keeps on a little hook in here. Shoulda grabbed some baby wipes before we left. Friggin’ evidence is gonna get us all in trouble.

I check that their belts are tight and that Jimmy can reach both of his sisters’ hands if he needs to. Once we’re all set for the drive home, Sophie’s already nodding off. Then Jimmy conks out. Silly Miss Joni singsongs herself to sleep just as I’m pulling into the driveway. It’s nice out. We’ll leave them in there with the windows down until they wake up. With three of ‘em we’ve learned to pick our battles.

And the fresh air and afternoon sunshine will be a better way to wake up than yanking them out of their seats only to try and force them back to sleep after a fright and a carry upstairs.

I let myself in and hang up the van keys by the rest of them. Somebody’s in the library and somebody's snoring upstairs. I go warn Sam to finish his chapter outside on the porch and then make my way back to my place. I pass Charlie’s little trailer and don’t bother to knock, she’s hunting with Jody and the girls this week, but make sure she didn’t leave any lights on.

Cas and Meg’s place is aways in the back, more of a house than a barn, since we did it from the ground up. But it suits them, as much as they come and go. Then there’s Garth and Bess, never figured I’d have nearly a full set of monsters for neighbors, but life is nothing if not surprising. They’re expecting their first pup in a couple of months. I’ve been working on fixing up an old conversion van for them, but parts take forever. It’s funny, never saw that dipshit so normal as he is as a werewolf.

Kevin stops by from time to time, but that’s between research positions. He graduated from college and is working on a doctorate already. His mother calls me once a month whether I’ve heard from him or not. I don’t hate the check ins.

The birthday party is tomorrow, giving everybody more time to make it in.

I can’t believe the kids are already five. Starting school next fall and everything. It makes me feel every inch a grandpa. Because I remember when Sam was that size and now he’s got his own to worry over. It’s been years, but it feels like yesterday. I check that the gifts I have tucked away for them are still safely hidden, because the rascals are curious little things. Had to move the Christmas presents to Jody’s after last year, got into them a whole week before I even had my tree up.

“Okay, time! Time. Sophie, it’s Jimmy’s turn,” Dean braves the terribly aimed swings of the old broom and catches it before she swipes into the snack table. Jimmy’s been waiting with his blindfold looped around his neck. The crepe paper donkey is swinging idly where Y/N holds the rope over the branch.

Everyone here knows this is going to take awhile. But without any other kids in line, we’re gonna let them have their fun.

“Good job Sophia!” Cas calls through his hands. She peeks out of her blindfold and groans at the fully intact pinata.

“Jimmy! Whack it good!” Joni crows and everyone cheers along with her. Sam collects Sophie’s blindfold and ties it around Joni’s neck as she waits for her turn. Sophie slumps over and leans against me like she’s run a marathon.

I don’t bother asking her what’s wrong, she’s a pouter, but she’s not showy about it. She thinks she didn’t do a good enough job, so I’m just gonna hold her while she watches her brother fall over himself missing the moving target too. Joni gets a good couple thwacks in, but the dumb donkey’s still holding all the candy when Dean decides it’s his turn.

“Now you watch, your daddy isn’t gonna be able to get it either.” And bless her, Y/N kept that pinata out of Dean’s reach the entire two minutes we gave him. Then it became a taunting exercise between the adults. After enough of them had laughed themselves stupid, I stood up, setting Sophie down gently.

“Alright, idjits, it’s time for sudden death. No blindfolds, only spinning and let the birthday pups get their candy.” Being the pack elder has its perks and times like this is one of them.

Joni teeters over with laughter as she swings. She catches the rope around the broom handle and pulls the whole thing down with little resistance from Y/N’s grip. She beats the cardboard animal within an inch of recognition and finally a hole caves in and the other two pounce in for the candy as soon as the weapon is out of play. Dean hands it over their heads to Sam.

Jimmy keeps trying to stuff candy in his pockets, but they’re too full and he’s losing more than he’s saving, meanwhile the girls just use their shirts like aprons. We are all bent over in tears, but the kids have their haul and nobody is gonna forget this party. Between Jody’s pictures and Meg’s recording on her phone, we’ll be able to bring it up for blackmail in the future.

Dean grabs the last handful of candy out of the carcass before he tosses it on the woodpile for next burning day. He doesn’t share, figures.

“Alright, before you go on about singing and cake, I’m handing out my gifts first,” I announce. “Over here you rascals.”

I march across the yard and head to a little strip of grass along the tree line. The kids are racing after me, I can hear their mother yelling at them to be careful since they’re in their nice clothes for the party.

But it’s an outdoor party and she should have known better, if you ask me.

I stop beside a big lump of canvas and wait for their little legs to catch up. I look down at them and give them the rules. “You have to take turns. You cannot cut in front of each other. And you do not use these on one another either, ya hear me?”

“Yes, Grandpa.” Three little voices nod, half listening half wiggling with excitement.

“Okay.” I pull the cloth off the target and step back hiding the packages behind my back.

“Ooooooo!”

“A target?”

“Are we shooting it?”

“No, guns are for grown ups. But if you get good, maybe you can hit it with one of these.” I fan out the bundles in front of me, letting them each pick one. Sam’s close now, eyeing me and I know what he’s thinking. But it’s not about hunting, not that kind of hunting at least. He grabs up the wrapping paper as the kids shred it to pieces to keep it from blowing away and becoming litter.

“A bow and a quiver!” Jimmy exclaims.

“I’m gonna be the Green Arrow!” Joni declares.

“I’m Huntress,” Sophie decides.

“I’m gonna be Hawk-guy.” Jimmy finally adds after much thought.

Dean chuckles. But Charlie calls over, “It’s Hawkeye, buddy.”

“Right. Hawkeye. I didn’t know that one either,” Y/N adds, shrugging.

I get them for the next hour, showing them how to crook the bow, and notch the arrow. They listen better for me than anybody, but seeing them this hooked on my every word made my damn month. They’re naturals, even if they don’t have the arm strength yet. We let them shoot from ten feet. Then finally Garth and Charlie convince them it’s time for cake.

I let it go. Because I know I will have them crawling through my backdoor everyday until they’re pros. It’s a selfish gift, but it’s an even trade. Let their parents off the hook about preparing them for everything out there, while giving me an excuse to spend more time with them. When they’re old enough we’ll go after turkeys for Thanksgiving, not wendigos or vampires.

They’ll have the skills and none of the burden their folks had at their age.

I nod at Y/N as she sets three mini cakes down on the table, letting them each blow out a matching number five. She’s a good mom and I can’t help but be a little proud about that fact. She’s not mine, but she always had a piece of my heart. Then there’s those two knuckleheads that somehow manage to keep her healthy, happy and safe. I couldn’t hope for any better for any of them. And I’m just grateful I’m still around to see it all happen.

Tell me what you think?

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#tattered #spn fanfic #a/b/o dynamics #spn a/b/o #alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!dean x omega!reader x alpha!sam #alpha!dean x omega!reader #sam/reader #dean/reader #sam/reader/dean #domestic winchesters

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queerstudiesnatural · 1 year

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#rain posts #if you think i've left out a major ot3 tell me quick and i'll redo the poll #polls #spn #supernatural

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eisforeidolon · 11 months

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Yeah, blatantly transparent nonsense like this is exactly why no one should ever take them seriously [X].

"Erasing a canon character's sexuality makes you a homophobe!!! Also, only the parts of this character's sexuality I want to be true count!" 🤦

Let's agree for the sake of argument that Misha and Berens' last minute, lowest effort, intentionally ambiguous AF queerbait is definitive evidence of Castiel's sexuality. Not even because of the actual canon, but Word of God from the notoriously inconsistent cast troll and a bitter loser who thought he was entitled to get his knockoff spinoff greenlit and stuck around specifically to write that scene. Castiel was still canonically attracted to women and female vessels. Daphne, Meg, April, random women on the street when he became human. There are a few different orientations that might apply - or none at all since he's a wavelength of celestial intent in a human suit. But to say he's gay? No. That's so obviously not about his actual canon sexuality, because [gestures at the actual canon].

This is just like how they consistently insist Dean MUST be bisexual because of cake and eye contact and other random nonsense ... but then as the show went on and they became more convinced their ship was going to happen any day now when they worked themselves up on their own hot air over and over again? Whenever the show depicted him having any attraction or even connection to a woman, which should be perfectly acceptable if they were genuinely reading him as bisexual? It was fucking epic meltdown time. Because they didn't *really* want him to be bisexual. They wanted him to be into men so that they could demand he be into Castiel specifically. In contrast to all their farcical meta reading twenty layers deep into him making eye contact with someone he was just talking to or how Castiel not being present made it clear how much Dean was totes thinking of him? Well, not at all surprising they were deeply threatened by examples of Dean actually showing interest. They don't want him to be bisexual - for the most part, they don't even really want him to be gay. They desperately want him to be Cas-sexual. Which is so embarrassingly far from canon, I can't even.

They make it clear over and over again that they don't give a single flying fuck about respecting a character's canon sexuality or expanding good representation in media as a cause. They care about forcing Dean and Castiel together any way they think they can badger their way into making it happen.

#destihellers #anti misha #anti berens #transparent as fuck

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meganlpie · 2 years

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Words

Based on this request: Hi Meg! 💚 Can i please ask for a Cas imagine? Soulmate one where anything you write on your skin appears on your soulmates. He doesn’t get why words are appearing on him and Sam and Dean go on a mission to find the girl. She thinks she doesn’t have a soulmate as nothing appears on her?

Here you go, lovelies! I do not own ANY SPN characters. They belong to the writers/creators of the show!

Warnings: Soulmate AU, angst-ish. Based on season 4 Castiel.

Pairings: Castiel x fem!reader

Cas' brow furrowed in confusion. "Dean, why have these words suddenly appeared on my arm?" Dean glanced over and saw the words on Cas' skin. "Seriously? You don't know? I thought angels would know about soulmates." Cas' eyes widened. Of course he knew about soulmates. But angels didn't have them. As far as he knew, they were exclusive to humans.

"But these words do not make sense," he commented, causing Sam to look at the exposed skin. "Looks like…orders? Your soulmate might be a waiter or something." Dean arched a brow. "A waiter who writes orders on their arms and hands?" Sam shrugged. "It's possible they lost their pad." Cas merely stared at his arm. "Should I…should I return correspondence?" Sam and Dean shrugged, not knowing that the writer of those words was in the very town they were hunting in.

YOUR POV

You let out a soft sigh as you kicked your door closed behind you. Another long day and you were ready to get off your feet. You were seriously considering finding a new job. Waitressing was absolutely not for you, especially since the new manager had yet to learn the ropes, including ordering new order pads. You only hoped your soulmate wouldn't be too irritated with the constant stream of words on their arms. Not that you would know either way.

From the moment you learned to write, you had begun writing little notes to your soulmate. It started with simple, one-word messages, and eventually developed into full paragraphs. But no matter how much or little you wrote, no matter how often, you never received a reply. Not a single one. After a while you just gave up hope of ever meeting your soulmate.

You went about your daily life and as you lived your life, thoughts of your soulmate began drifting to the back of your mind. You decided to stop searching and writing to someone who wasn't going to write back. Your hand and arm instead became a place for notes and orders. You never expected that those orders would be the reason you ended up meeting your soulmate after all.

You were awakened by your phone ringing next to your head. With a groan, you rolled over to grab the offending device. You wanted to scream when you saw your manager's name flash across the screen. When you answered you weren't at all surprised to hear them asking you to come in as another waiter had called in sick. If you hadn't needed the money, you would have laughed right then and there, but instead, you got up and made your way into work.

The diner was busy when you arrived. Not unusual for a Sunday morning. There was a bar a few doors down and a lot of people liked to come in to nurse their Saturday night hangovers. Your mind instantly shifted into work mode, only to gaze at your coworkers curiously when you caught them all staring at one table. "Uh…hello?"

"Y/N, you lucky b-" Another waitress covered your friend's mouth. Your elderly Sunday regulars often complained about her language. "What are you talking about?" you questioned and they all nodded in the same direction. "Your first table!"

You let your eyes follow their gazes and had to fight to keep your jaw from dropping. Three absolutely gorgeous men were sitting at the table. You quickly looked away as you wanted to be respectful. "That's my first table?" you asked in disbelief. That earned you a nod and playfully jealous glares. "Okay, stop ogling them. You don't like it when customers ogle you so stop," you chastised before turning to your manager and asking about order pads. Of course, there were none.

With pen in hand, you approached the table and smiled. "Hi, I'm Y/N. What can I get ya?" As soon as the first of them gave you his order, you began writing on your hand. "You always write on your hand?" You shook your head and smiled playfully. "Haven't you heard? It’s the new in thing. Saves paper and whatnot." He laughed, but one of the others cleared his throat.

"Uh, Dean?" The green-eyed man who'd been speaking to you glanced over at his companions. The tallest of the three grabbed the third man's hand to show Dean. "Sh-Should I give you guys a minute?" Dean looked up at you. "No, Sweetheart. But you should look at my friend's hand." Your heart began to beat faster. Was this it?

You glanced down at the third man's hand and nearly dropped your pen to the floor. Your gaze shot up to meet the startling blue eyes of your soulmate. "I-I'll be right back," you managed to squeak out before turning on your heel to move back behind the counter.

When soulmates began cropping up, new labor laws were put in place allowing employees to leave work for a few days after meeting their soulmates as long as they could prove the bond. So you practically ran to your manager, grabbed their hand, and pulled them over to the table. After a couple moments, your manager took your apron with a smile and Dean and the tall guy left the booth so you could sit with your soulmate.

"What's your name?" you asked, trying desperately not to seem too eager. "I am Castiel." You smiled a little. "It's unique…Why? I mean, why didn't you ever respond?" you asked softly as you gestured to the writing on your hand. "I-I," he started. His blue eyes frantically searched for his friends, confusing you. "Hey, again," the tall one greeted from beside the table, "I think you guys should come with us. There's a few things you should know, Y/N." To say you were confused would be an understatement, but you'd always been a curious person and this was your soulmate and his friends. They wouldn't hurt you. You knew that. So you nodded and followed the three men outside. Once there, the three men began to explain everything.

*short time skip*

You stared at the three like they were insane. "Wait. So you're telling me that everything we've ever been afraid of, all the things that go bump in the night are real? And the two of you," you stated, pointing at Dean and, as you now knew, Sam, "Are hunters?" They nodded and you turned your eyes on Castiel.

"And you? You're an angel? Like, an honest to goodness angel?" He also confirmed and you nearly swayed on your feet. "O-Okay." Castiel looked completely lost as to what to do, adding to the validity of his claim. Sam helped you sit down and attempted to keep you calm while Dean whispered something to Castiel who was currently glaring at Sam sitting so closely to his soulmate.

Meanwhile, your mind was racing. Your soulmate was an angel. A FREAKING ANGEL! What were you supposed to do with that?! How would that even work?! You wanted to scream and cry at the same time. It didn't seem fair. Your soulmate was so far out of your reach it wasn't funny. Had there been some sort of mistake? So many questions without answers and it was weighing on you already. Would you ever be able to manage this?

(a/n: I hope you like it!!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @esoltis280 @stories-by-shanna-p @motleymoose @dark-angel-is-back @supernatural4life2022

SPN Tags: @jotink78

#supernatural #spn #soulmate au #castiel #castiel x reader

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minefield-of-a-ninja · 8 months

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Blood Sugar Sex Magik

Pollen | Dreams | Fairytales | Zanna | and some things more nefarious.

Pollen

A Fight For Love & Glory - Winchesters x you (female)

Summary: You’re struck by sex pollen, so Sam and Dean agree to help you out.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, feelings of guilt, ass play, dirty talk, W*ncest adjacent

Words: 2K

Magic Sex & French Fries - Jo Harvelle x Ruby 2.0

Prompt: Great Big Lesbian prompt: SPN, Jo and Ruby II have to have sex to save the world. Or something. Sex pollen? I don’t care. 😘

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, fisting, confuzzled boys

Words: 1K

Bad Girls Underneath - Ruby 2.0 x Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Ruby and Jojo get hit by a sex curse again; this time, they need Dean’s help.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, magical-dick/male-gaze bullshit, probably too much commentary and emotional complication, why am I like this, I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself, fisting, brief choking

Words: 2,600

Dreamy/dreams

Cactus - Dean Winchester x Meg Masters x Castiel

Summary: Post-battle, exhausted and wanting, Dean and Meg and Cas take care of each other.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ ONLY, dreamlike sex, a little choking, Dean’s always hungry

Words: 3,200

I’ll Keep Them Still - Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle

Summary: Dean remembers promises and pictures in his mind. And he remembers her.

Warnings/tags: mature, songfic, angst, dream/afterlife sequences, purple prose, I’m sorry

Words: 1,100

Moving Furniture - Steve!Cas x Meg Masters 2.0

Summary: She’s been gone for a year – sacrificed herself to save Sam and her unicorn – but Cas still dreams about her.

Warnings/tags: non-explicit dream sex, fluff, shmoop, there’s a dog

Words: 2K

If You Don’t, Dear, Confess - Sam Winchester x Rowena Macleod

Prompt: Sam has dream about being seduced by Rowena in the bunker that gets interrupted/woken by Dean?

Warnings: mature

Words: 620

Fairytales

Hark and Hush - Purgatory Dean x wolf spirit in a female body

Summary: This is the story of how Dean Winchester hunted, became enamored with, and slew the ancient spirit of the Big Bad Wolf.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester, stalking, blood, gore, rough sex, character death

Words: 2,200

More Nefarious *dubious consent

His Sword - Michael/Dean x female prostitute

Summary: Michael takes some time to remind Dean who’s in control.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, edge play, bondage, knife play, blood play, choking, rough sex, name-calling, character death

Words: 2,300

Supernova - MOC Dean Winchester x female reader

Summary: Since Dean’s had the Mark and the Blade, he’s pulled away from you, afraid of hurting you. You miss him, and you’ve had it. One night you push him to the edge.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, bondage, blood play, biting, bruising, knifeplay, rough sex, dubcon/mindfuck

Words: 2,500

Zanna

Just My Imagination - Dean Winchester x female Zanna

Summary: After Mary leaves the boys a second time, Dean needs a reset, or to blow off some steam – something. He heads out on a snowy evening the night before Christmas and finds just the right thing.

Warnings/tags: mature, Hallmark channel fuckery

Words: 2,800

#master list shuffle 2023 #blood sugar sex magik

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queermania · 14 days

Note

That person was definitely thinking of Cas and Meg that’s the only possible decent ship (unless they’re a Charlie x Dean weirdo I’ve seen people say things like that as if she’s not a lesbian)

I think some people are legitimately under the impression that Meg was written off the show bc of destiel which. Was not the case

even if that was true............ she was killed off in season 8 (and i don't think we ever even got a reaction from cas about it?). there were 7 more seasons. it's just so silly when people say destiel was underdeveloped or something else was better developed. it's perfectly fine to not enjoy the ship or to wish the show had gone in a different direction or whatever, but i just can't take anyone who acts like shippers fully made up destiel from nothing seriously. like. come on, man.

(and yeah i've seen the dean/charlie stuff too and it's a real head scratcher lol)

#replies #anonymous #wank for ts

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pink-sparkly-witch · 2 years

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Can't Fight This Feeling, Pt. 1

Summary: Dean is in love with the girl who works in the office. The problem is Y/N is already dating someone, and Dean is not her type, right? When Y/N is dumped by Rick the Prick, the feelings she has had for Dean since she started working at Singer’s Auto come back in full force.

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Female Reader (Eventual)

Bingo Square: Mutual Pining

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This is written as a submission for Tell Me A Story Bingo hosted by @supernatural-jackles. The square filled is Mutual Pining. This hasn’t been beta’d. All mistakes are mine!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Dean had to admit he was happy. He loved his job as a mechanic, and the garage he worked at would be his someday. Bobby had already talked to him about buying him out when the old man retired, and he’d agreed to the proposal right away, never doubting it was what he wanted.

He owned a modest two-storey house in a good neighbourhood which he renovated right after moving in. His neighbours were friendly, if a little nosey, and for the most part, he loved attending and hosting the neighbourhood cookouts in the summer months. The only thing missing was someone to share his life with.

He’d had a few relationships in the past, none giving him exactly what he wanted. The closest was Lisa, and he did love her. She didn’t love him, though, and after a while, she realised that she needed more than just a father figure for her son and that Dean deserved better. She broke his heart, making him a little jaded about women for a while.

Dean had gone back to his playboy ways, but it quickly became unsatisfying, and he decided it was time to try dating again. The problem was that he was confident he’d found ‘the one,’ but she was someone else’s girl, and he didn’t want to waste more time with the wrong woman.

Maybe he was just meant to be alone.

His bachelor lifestyle was hitting him even harder recently with his baby brother’s announcement that he and Eileen were getting married. His good buddy, Garth, was also getting married in the summer. Benny and Cas were happy and settled in their relationships. Dean had a feeling that Benny would be asking Donna to move in with him and Cas would be putting a ring on Meg’s finger very soon.

He was glad a customer had dropped off a 1969 Chevrolet Camaro for restoration. It kept him busy and stopped his thoughts from wandering for too long.

“Hey, Dean?” Y/N opened the door that separated reception from the garage floor and shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the equipment.

“S’up, Y/N?” he called back, unable to stop his smile at seeing her for the first time today. He didn’t sleep much last night, so he opened the garage at 6am. He had to admit, it was strange walking through the garage and not seeing her already sitting in her office.

“Jody’s here for her car, but Bobby’s out. Can you take care of the handover?” Y/N threw him her sweetest smile and biggest puppy eyes, and fuck if he wouldn’t have helped her commit mass murder right here at Singer’s Auto if she asked. He knew she had him wrapped around her little finger, but he was hopelessly in love with her and really didn’t care.

“Sure. Gimme a sec?” Dean said, and she grinned happily at him. God, she’s beautiful when she smiles! Dean thought and shook his head, chuckling at his behaviour. He grabbed the rag tucked into his coverall pocket and wiped the grease from his hands. He walked quickly to the break room and washed his hands to remove the stubborn dirt before heading to the back office.

There were two doors in the break room, one coming to and from the garage floor and the other that led to the corridors with the offices, bathrooms and changing rooms. Dean took the one into the corridor and headed to the back office, which belonged to Bobby.

Bobby’s office held the safe where they locked the vehicle keys at the end of the day or when they were waiting to be collected. Opening the safe and pulling out Jody’s keys, Dean made sure to he locked it and the office behind him and made his way to the reception.

“Sheriff. Good to see you,” Dean greeted. He’d known Jody a long time. She was his mom’s best friend.

“Dean! Good to see you too,” Jody smiled and pulled the mechanic in for a hug. “You’re looking a little skinny. Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Yeah, you know,” Dean started, rubbing his hand over his neck. “Been working hard. Long hours. You know the drill.”

“Yeah, I can see that beautiful Camaro you’re restoring. Is she keeping you busy?” Jody asked, smiling gently at Y/N, who handed her some paperwork to sign.

“Something like that, yeah.” Dean chuckled.

“Dean Winchester!” Jody scolded. “Do I have to call your mother and tell her you’re not taking care of yourself? Tell me, Y/N… does he ever go home?”

“He was here before me this morning, and I was in at 7:30 to handle an early delivery for Bobby,” Y/N tattled. “You know he never even ate breakfast? I went over to the diner and got him pancakes and bacon. It’s no wonder he’s getting skinny.”

“Traitor!” Dean playfully said, pointing in her direction. “And here I thought you, of all people, would have my back!”

“And lie to the Sheriff? And your mother?” Y/N huffed in disbelief. “Sorry, Dean! Even I’m not dumb enough to go up against those two!” she giggled at Dean’s look of mock hurt. “You know if it was anybody else, I’d have your back all day, every day, but I will not go up against Jody and Mary!” Y/N playfully stuck her tongue out, showing she was only teasing.

“That’s my girl!” Jody laughed. “Thank you for taking care of him. At least when he’s here,” she smiled softly and squeezed Y/N’s forearm.

“Ah, what are friends for,” Y/N waved her hand, telling them it was nothing.

Friends. There was that word that twisted his gut. He knew he shouldn’t feel what he does for her; she already has a boyfriend, so friends are all they’ll ever be. “Alright, ‘gang up on Dean hour’ is over. What are you still doing here anyway? Thought you had a lunch date with Mr Pretty-Boy-Wannabe-Entrepreneur?”

“Okay, first of all: you gotta damn cheek calling anyone a “pretty boy,” pretty boy! Secondly… cancelled it.” Y/N shrugged and smiled sadly, grabbing the paperwork for the Sheriff’s car to file. “It was nice to see you, Jody!” she turned and returned to her office.

“You too, honey,” Jody raised a hand in farewell, waited until Y/N was safely behind her desk, and lowered her voice. “Any idea what that was about?”

“No clue,” Dean responded with a frown.

“Alright, I gotta get back to it. Thanks for this, Dean,” Jody held her car key up and nodded. “I’ll see you soon. And call your mother!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Dean grinned and raised a hand to wave goodbye. When the door closed, he stood for a minute, trying to decide whether to push Y/N on what was going on with her. She was visibly upset by something, and if his gut was right, it had to do with the douchebag she was dating.

Huffing, Dean headed to her office and leaned against the door frame. The radio played REO Speedwagon’s Can’t Fight This Feeling, and he smiled softly as she hummed along. Not wanting to startle her, he knocked quietly on the door, just loud enough to announce he was there.

The noise coming from the garage floor often masked footsteps on the linoleum. Although it was hilarious when Y/N punched, kicked, or yelled out when she got startled by one of their voices at her door, he was pretty sure she’d punch him in the face if he did that to her now.

Glancing up, Y/N smiled like she always did when she saw him, like she was genuinely happy to see him, like he was the only person she wanted to see. He’d watched her and knew that no one else got those smiles from her, and, man, did that make him feel special.

“Hey. You alright?” Dean asked and frowned deeper when her smile fell, and she nodded her head, quickly lowering it behind the monitor in front of her.

“You sure? Because I can tell you’re upset,” he made no move to enter her office, leaning against the doorframe and giving her space. Dean sighed when he was met with silence. “Y/N/N, sweetheart, we’re friends, right?” he licked his lips and raised his eyebrows at her slight nod. “Then you know you can talk to me. Tell me anything. I just wanna help. See that smile back on your face.”

“Rick broke up with me last night,” Y/N finally spoke after a while. Dean’s eyebrows shot up in shock. Those were words he never thought he’d hear.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. What happened?” Dean finally moved from his perch on the doorframe and took the chair across the desk from hers.

“The new tech company he and his buddies created?” she spoke softly, and Dean nodded. “It’s starting to take off, and he’s been travelling a lot. Going to all these Expos and events, and apparently, I’m holding him back.”

“Y/N,” Dean wanted to go to her, comfort her but held back with every ounce of strength he had.

“Which I guess is guy speak for there’s a lot of beautiful women out there, and having a girlfriend is kinda cramping my style,” she tried to smile. Still, tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes. “But it’s okay. At least he didn’t cheat on me, right?” There was a bitter chuckle that Dean didn’t like the sound of. He’d give anything to take away her pain.

“I always knew Rick the Prick was a dumb douchebag. That asshole wouldn’t see a great thing if it walked in front of him and slapped him in the face. What exactly did they teach him at the fancy private school his daddy sent him to?” Dean fumed. Rick really was a prick. He’d never liked him. He always thought he was above everyone else.

“That he doesn’t need an education. He only needs the unlimited money from the trust fund his daddy set up for him, and everything will fall into his lap?” Y/N responded, and Dean laughed.

“It’s gonna be fine, sweetheart. There’s someone much better out there for you. I know it,” he smiled. “Now, how ‘bout I take my favourite girl to lunch before I head into the city to pick up some parts? What d’ya say?”

“Sure, thanks, Dean.” Y/N smiled brightly, and Dean leaned forward on the chair and gently grabbed her chin, giving her a charming wink.

“There she is! There’s that smile I love so much! Come on, burgers and milkshakes on me!”

“And pie?” Y/N pulled out the puppy eyes as she stood and rounded her desk, making Dean chuckle.

“Sure,” he said, pulling her into a hug and kissing her hair. “You can have all the pie you want, sweetheart.”

Dean’s smile didn’t fade when he got back to the garage, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his best friend, Benny. He was among the few who knew about Dean’s true feelings for Y/N.

“What’s that smile for Winchester?” Benny grinned as he leaned on the roof of the car Dean was working on.

“You saying I can’t be happy, Lafitte?” Dean sassed him back.

“Course you can. I just haven’t seen you this happy in a long time, brother,” Benny smiled softer now.

“I had a great lunch with great company,” Dean shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“With your girl in the office, huh?” The cheeky grin was back on Benny’s lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Dean protested.

“Yet. I know how you feel about Y/N, Dean. And the guy she’s with? He doesn’t deserve her, and once she realises it, it’ll be over for them.” Benny slapped his friend's shoulder in the way men do to comfort each other.

“It already is, man,” Dean lowered his voice to stop the whole garage from overhearing. “They broke up last night. ‘S why I took her out for lunch. Cheer her up a little.”

“Shit,” Benny lowered his voice, too, glancing around him to make sure they weren’t overheard. “What happened?”

“I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Dean’s response made Benny smile slightly. He was always so protective of her. It was damn adorable.

“Sure, I get that. She’s okay, though, right?” Benny adored Y/N, too, although his adoration was brotherly towards her.

“She will be,” Dean nodded.

“You gonna swoop in and sweep her off her feet?” Benny’s signature cheeky grin was back full force, and Dean rolled his eyes at his best friend.

“No. You know she doesn’t feel that way ‘bout me. Besides, I’m not her type,” Dean defended.

“Sure. Whatever you say, chief. Just don’t write it off yet, alright? ‘S’all I’m trying to say,” Benny gave him a knowing look, and Dean scoffed, unconvinced.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. Do you need me to pick anything up from the city? I got parts that need collecting,” Dean’s quick change of subject made Benny chuckle.

“Nah, all good. I was gonna ask if you wanna go for drinks after work on Saturday, though. Start Memorial weekend off right.” Benny said.

“Yeah, sure. Roadhouse?” Dean asked.

“That’s the plan. And Dean? If you want a chance, a real chance with Y/N? Maybe don’t go chasing everything in a skirt. Make her see that you don’t always need to take someone home, that you can be in a relationship and not just be a one-and-done kinda guy,” Benny winked and walked away with a chuckle, leaving Dean wide-eyed with shock.

Lunch had been just what Y/N needed, and she’d done nothing but laugh and smile at Dean and his storytelling and blatant flirting. It reminded her of why she fell for him in the first place.

Dean was always funny and flirty. He knew how to make her laugh, even on her worst days. He treated her with kindness and respect, and she knew he had her back, no questions asked. He’d always been a gentleman with her, often pretending to be her boyfriend when some dick at the bar got too handsy with her or making sure she got home safe, and she loved him for it.

He was just her type too. Handsome, funny, smart, a cocky bastard. But how he acted with her and treated her was the same way he was with every woman he encountered. Except for the ones he wanted to go home with. They got his A-game, so she knew her feelings weren’t reciprocated.

The night Rick came over to her in the bar and attempted to flirt with her, she’d thought he was cute. She could tell he was out of his depth right off the bat, but his eagerness to impress her made her heart melt. When he asked if he could buy her a drink, she said yes.

At the bar, they talked for a while, and when he asked if he could take her on a date, she caught sight of Dean chatting up another beautiful, busty brunette who could be on the cover of magazines and knew for sure she’d never get to be his girl, so she said yes. The rest, as they say, was history.

Rick was so far from her type that none of her friends ever quite “got” them as a couple. Rick was from a trust fund family, his father a multi-million-dollar entrepreneur in Kansas City, and he had wanted for nothing growing up. Everything was handed to him on a gold plate. He didn’t know the meaning of living paycheck to paycheck or just getting by - which was how she’d grown up.

He was sweet, though and treated her like she’d always wanted a man to treat her. She didn't care about the fancy restaurants or the extravagant gifts he gave her; she cared that he proudly showed her off to his friends and family, who all seemed to adore her. He was always a gentleman when she was with him.

Rick wasn’t much in the bedroom, but was that really important when you loved everything else about a person? Good sex wasn’t the be-all and end-all and certainly didn’t constitute a good relationship, right?

None of it mattered anymore, anyway. He’d shown his true colours and made sure she knew she wasn’t good enough for him. It was time to put him in her past and try to move forward. She’d cried over him all night, which was far too long in her book.

Glancing over at Dean working under the hood of the Camaro, she smiled to herself. Now that Rick was out of the picture and with how sweet the mechanic had been with her at the diner, the feelings she’d had for Dean since her first day working here were back. She grinned, remembering Dean telling her she was beautiful and worth it and Rick didn’t deserve–

“Watcha smiling at Cher?” Benny said, causing her to yelp and jump, banging her knee off the desk.

“God dammit, Benny! What d’ya do that for?” she whined, rubbing her sore knee and glaring at the laughing Cajun leaning against the doorframe. “What d’ya want?” she pouted.

“I’m sorry for scaring ya,” Benny chuckled. “Just wanted to see if you’re up for some drinks at the Roadhouse on Saturday.”

“Well… that depends,” Y/N furrowed her brows as she looked at him.

“On…?” Benny asked.

“Who’s going?” she replied.

“The usual: me and Donna, Cas and Meg…”

“Oh great! Couples being all…” she gestured wildly with her hands, trying to find the right word. “Coupley,” she finished, lips curling in distaste.

“Dean’s going too, so you two can couple-bash together,” Benny smirked.

“Sure. Until a hottie shows up in a belt claiming it’s a skirt, her boobs spilling out of a top that’s two sizes too small so they look way bigger than they actually are, and Dean goes all horndog over her. And then, as always, I’ll be the awkward third wheel while you guys all stare at each other with heart eyes,” Y/N rambled, and Benny looked on in amusement.

“You know what? Thanks for the invite Benny, but I think I should sit this one out,” she concluded.

“Aw, come on, Cher! It’ll be fun!” Benny tried putting on his best puppy eyes, and she rolled hers dramatically.

“For who, Benny? No one wants the bitter, newly single girl crashing their good time buzz,” she sighed exasperatedly.

“We do, Y/N/N. Look, just think about it, okay?” Benny pleaded.

“I appreciate it, Benny, but honestly, I don’t think it’ll be a fun night for me seeing two perfect couples be all mushy and Dean hitting on every girl there except…” she stopped abruptly.

“Except who, Cher?” Benny prodded, even though he already knew the answer.

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N waved her hand dismissively.

“Yes, it does,” Benny tried one last time.

“I’ll think about it, okay? If there’s nothing else, I need to get on with these invoices.”

Benny nods, understanding that she wants the subject dropped. “He’s an asshole, you know.”

“Who?” Y/N’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Rick,” Benny says, and she gives a small, grateful smile. “Dean, too,” Benny winks and leaves her office before she questions him further. Those two idiots needed to sort this out for themselves, after all.

What Benny said had stunned her. Never in a million years would she think there was a chance Dean shared her feelings, but something in his face when he told her that Dean was an asshole had her thinking…

Nah. It’s too crazy. There’s no way he likes me.

She needs to get over this obsession with Dean. It’s unhealthy; she’s not his type and never will be. She’s not perfectly flawless or sexy like the women he takes home.

They’re just friends, and she needs to accept that’s all they’ll ever be.

Part Two >>

Jensen / Dean Tags: @akshi8278 @deanwanddamons @deans-baby-momma @siospins2 @sexyvixen7 @leigh70

#tell me a story bingo #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #au!dean #dean winchester fluff #spn #mutual pining

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zepskies · 7 months

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 6

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 6: “Just Casual”

A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.

“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.

“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”

Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.

Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.

“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”

“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”

“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”

Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.

“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”

“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”

“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”

“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”

“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.

Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.

As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.

“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”

Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.”

Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.

“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.

Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.

“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.

“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”

“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”

She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.

Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.

Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.

“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.

John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.

“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”

If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.

So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.

Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.

Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.

It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.

The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).

You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.

Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)

You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.

Apparently, the couple had their own plans.

You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.

You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.

Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.

Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.

You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.

No promises. 🏎️

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.

You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.

“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”

“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”

Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.

“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.

It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.

While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.

You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.

“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.

He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”

“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”

You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.

“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.

Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”

“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.

Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.

“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.

You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.

“Have a good night,” you said.

The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.

“You too,” he said.

Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.

When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.

“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.

Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”

“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.

You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.

“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.

Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”

You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.

“Hi,” he said.

You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.

Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.

Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.

“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.

Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.

Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.

“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”

Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.

Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.

Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”

“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.

“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.

Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.

“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.”

Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.

Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.

Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.

“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.

You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.

“Guilty,” she said.

You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.

“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”

Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”

“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”

You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”

He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.

Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.

“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.

“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”

“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.

Family ain’t just about blood.

You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here.

Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.

“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.

Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.

“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.

“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”

His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.

“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”

“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.

“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.

“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.

You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.

“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”

She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”

Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.

“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”

A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.

Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.

It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.

Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.

“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.

But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.

You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.

“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.

Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”

“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.

“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.

“I think you are,” Cas said.

Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”

“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.

Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.

“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.

You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”

You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.

“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.

It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.

“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.

“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”

Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.

“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied.

You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.

“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”

Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.

“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”

You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.

“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.

“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”

You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jo only nodded.

“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”

“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”

You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.

“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”

Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”

You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”

“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.

Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.

You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.

Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?

Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.

Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…

But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.

It didn’t mean she had to like you though.

“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”

Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.

She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.

And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.

Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.

You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.

“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.

“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.

Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.

She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.

While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.

“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.

“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”

“Have you responded to any fires lately?”

“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”

“All right, good. Just checking in.”

Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?

“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”

John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.

“Dad?” he pressed.

John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”

“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”

“Okay…”

As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became…

About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.

Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).

“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.

Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.

As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.

“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.

Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”

“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.

He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.

Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.

“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”

“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”

“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.

“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”

Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.

“A message?” he asked. “To who?”

“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."

"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.

“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”

Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.

“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.

“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”

When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.

Shit. He tried his best to school his features.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

“I met you here, remember?” you asked.

Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.

“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”

After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.

You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.

“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.

“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.

“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”

“I could take you home,” Dean offered.

“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?

You shook your head and pointed down the road.

“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”

Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”

He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.

It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?

Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.

“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”

Dean finally looked over at you.

“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.”

You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”

You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.

“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”

Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.

“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”

“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.

He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.

“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.

Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”

Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.

“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”

You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.

Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.

Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…

Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.

The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.

Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.

He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.

You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.

“Hey,” you started.

“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.

“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”

Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.

“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.

What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.

Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.

“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”

Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.

“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.

“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?”

He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.”

Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real.

So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.

“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”

“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight.

You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him.

Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said.

A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.

“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.

Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.

His mom’s killer was still out there.

The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.

So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.

AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.

Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏❤️‍🔥

Next Time:

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

Keep Reading: PART 7

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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