#andrea kormos

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 3

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.   

AN: Ready for some more ridiculous flirting? lol

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Got a Hold on Me” by Christine McVie (of Fleetwood Mac) Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, fluff, first encounters and first dates

Part 3: “Got a Hold on Me”

Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you met the man’s gaze across the bar.

You recognized his bearded friend, Benny, who leaned over and said something to Dean. You couldn’t hear him, of course, but maybe he was asking a question. Because Dean nodded and said something in reply before he picked up his glass of what looked like whiskey. And he smoothly got up out of his seat.

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said. A smile curved her lips. “I think I’m going to go play some pool.”

And with that, your friend abandoned you. She slid off her seat and patted your ass on her way over to one of the pool tables. You watched her go with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. 

“There you go, hun,” said Jo. She slid your drink in front of you. It came in a deep round glass on a stem, with a straw on the side.

“Thanks,” you replied.

You opened the straw and took a small sip to steady yourself, as you saw Dean coming out of the corner of your eye.

You even pretended not to notice the handsome man sliding into the seat next to you. His elbows rested on the counter next to yours, and you finally glanced over at him.

“Can I help you, sir?” you asked. A coquettish smile played at your lips, but you even surprised yourself with your smooth delivery. Inside, you had butterflies.

You didn’t notice the way Jo’s gaze lingered on you and Dean, a frown marring her features. Though she soon moved on to another patron.

And Dean’s attention was solely on you. He gave you a handsome smile, full of charm. You gave him expectant brows. 

“Well, we’ll see. I’ve got a question for you,” he said.

You indulged him with a nod. “Okay. What’s your question, Lieutenant?”  

“Why Girl Scout cookies?” he asked, speaking of the baked goods you’d brought by the firehouse yesterday. “I mean, we’ve gotten cakes, muffins, Krispy Kreme donuts. But I gotta say, we’ve never gotten some bakery-style Trefoils.”

Your smile brightened a bit.

“Who doesn’t like ‘em?” you asked. “I mean, you can walk by their table and be all coy and pretend you’re not going to buy anything, but then you walk away with half a dozen boxes of Thin Mints.”

Dean chuckled, and you enjoyed the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Or is that just me?” you added, and once again sipped at your drink. 

Meanwhile, Andréa felt a hot gaze on her as she set up the cue balls on the pool table. She allowed it with a subtle smile. If it was the same one she’d crossed paths with earlier when she walked in with you, then she didn’t mind.

She was, however, getting impatient.

“Mind if I join you?”

The pleasant drawl of the man’s voice licked up her spine. When she glanced over her shoulder, her smile widened a fraction. Finally.

“For a game?” she asked. She straightened, brushing a smooth wave of dark hair off her shoulder.

And she turned to meet the bearded man standing casually behind her, resting his glass on the edge of the pool table. The gray of his rolled up, buttoned-down shirt brought out the vivid blue of his eyes. But even though he was tall and broad, he didn’t seem intimidating.

“To start with,” he said. His lips quirked at a smile. “But first, I think it’d be a damn shame if I didn’t ask for your name.”

Andréa’s head tipped to one side as she considered him. She picked up the second pool stick and handed it to him.

“Are you going to ask?” she replied. Her fingers curled around her own stick as she leaned a hip against the table. 

It made him smile. Those eyes of his considered her dress, an earthy green that brought out the hazel in her eyes, warm against her tan skin. But he lingered on her face, full lips and long, dark lashes.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked.

“Andréa,” she answered, and gestured to the pyramid of cue balls. “I’ll even let you go first, if I get your name.”

His smile deepened, and he leaned over beside her to line up his shot. He glanced over and found the challenge in her eyes was more than welcome.

“I’m Benny,” he said. He took the shot without looking at his target, breaking the pyramid and scattering cue balls across the table.

Back at the bar, your drink and your conversation were both bringing a pleasant buzz to your brain. You nodded along with the music when “Got a Hold on Me” by Christine McVie replaced Boston.

“You’re liftin’ me up,” she sang through the speakers. “Never let me down…and I smile whenever you’re around.”

Dean glanced at you with a small grin, shaking his head.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he said. “I just didn’t expect to see someone like you here.”

Your brows furrowed. “Someone like me?”

He caught the look on your face, and his turned apologetic.

“Nah, I just mean…this doesn’t seem like your usual vibe,” he said.

You weren’t quite sure how to take that, but you eventually shrugged.

“To be honest, I don’t go out all that much,” you replied. “I like it here though. Good music, good drinks—”

“And good company, I hope,” Dean added in. You allowed that with a smile.

All the while, Christine kept singing.

“I’ve been down. I’ve been used. Now I know, I know, I know, I just can’t lose…”

“So did you guys like the cookies? Or did the Girl Scout thing put you off,” you teased. Dean’s lips quirked.

“Sweetheart, those delectables were gone by end of shift. I’m talking that afternoon. They were easily some of the best cookies I’ve ever tasted…I’m serious,” he said, when you became a bit bashful, and maybe disbelieving.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you had your own bakery, I’d be lining up every damn day,” he said. He then sent you a playfully suspicious look. “Matter of fact, you didn’t just buy those, did you?”

Your smiled warmed as you considered your half-empty glass. Your fingers traced the rim.

“Well, don’t laugh but…I actually went to culinary school,” you said. Dean’s brows rose high at the confession.

“Why would I laugh about that? That’s awesome!” he said. “Why didn’t you become a chef or something?”

Your gaze drifted downwards. “Well…let’s just say, life got in the way.”

His face dimmed a little at that. But you noticed, and you tried to perk up.

“So yes, sir. I baked all five dozen of those cookies with my own two hands,” you said more cheerfully. You raised waving fingers. “I’ve got the burns to prove it.”

You’d actually made a rookie move, trying to move one of the trays before it had sufficiently cooled down. It was bad enough that you had to apply some aloe last night.

Dean made a show of furrowing his brows, with playful concern.    

“Let me see,” he said. He straightened in his seat, acting more “Lieutenant Winchester” as he took your hands and examined your palms and fingers. You blushed, and you bit your lip against a smile as his larger hands handled yours with care.

He did notice the redness on your fingertips, and part of your right palm. He glanced up at you.

“Do they hurt?” he asked.

You blinked at the genuine note in his question.

“Oh, not really,” you said. But you smiled at the fractional raise of his brows. “Well, maybe they still sting a bit, but it’s nothing. I had worse in school, believe me.”

Dean hummed as he considered your hands. Your face heated up further as you tried to get a read on what he was thinking. Was he about to do the cheesy thing and kiss it better? (Though you probably wouldn’t mind, even if he did.)

Instead, Dean reached into his own glass and grabbed an ice cube. After shaking off some excess water droplets, he moved the ice against the pads of your fingers, then down the fading red mark on your palm.

“That feel better?” he asked.

If possible, your blush intensified as your insides warmed and melted like hot butter. It was a sweet, and seemingly earnest gesture that plucked at your heartstrings.

And that was how Dean Winchester got your number before “Got a Hold on Me” ended.

Andréa was still chatting away at the bar with Benny by the time you decided to call it a night. She understood why you wanted to get home, to check on your grandfather.

You saw a bit of disappointment in Dean’s eyes when you said you needed to go, but he graciously offered to walk you to your car. It was pretty late, after all, and you had more than one reason to agree as he stepped out with you into the night.

You didn’t know if it was the evening chill, or his presence burning beside you that made a small shiver run through you. But once the two of you reached your car, you hesitated and looked up at Dean. You realized that you were reluctant to end this, whatever it was.

He quirked a smile down at you and tucked a wily strand of hair behind your ear.

“It was good to see you,” he said.

“Likewise, Lieutenant,” you replied, with a teasing gleam in your eyes. His were drawn to your face, lowering to your lips.

“Can I see you again?” he asked.

Again, your face warmed. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

His smile grew with his huff of amusement.

“Okay, how about I pick you up tomorrow night?” he offered. “That’s, uh…if you don’t got any plans.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. Play it cool, for the love of God. Just say yes.

You didn’t usually agree to let a man pick you up on the first date, but something about Dean felt intrinsically trustworthy. Maybe it was the fact that he’d already saved you once this week.

“Sure,” you agreed, sounding more casual than you felt. “What did you have in mind?”

Dean considered that with a thoughtful look.

“Tell you what, let me take you to dinner. Somewhere nice,” he said. His hand raised to thumb at your warm cheek. He couldn’t see your blush, but you were sure he could feel it.

“I like dinner,” you admitted. Though you immediately wanted to slap yourself. Idiot!

Dean just laughed, and your blush turned to one of embarrassment.

“All right. Something we can agree on,” he said in amusement. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Get home safe, okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, though you paused, looking up at the indecision on his face. His gaze roamed your face, once again falling to your lips. Nervousness trilled down your spine, though you didn’t know why.

Maybe you were just a coward, but you didn’t wait for him to decide. You just gave him one last smile before you turned from him, unlocking your car with a press of a button on your keys.

“Well, goodnight,” you told him. “See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, stepping back from you. “See you soon.”

Well, it was tomorrow. And you were trying not to freak the hell out.

“That’s it,” Andréa said. “That’s the one.”

You had her on FaceTime, with your phone propped up on your dresser as you raided your closet.

Your hair was pinned up, your makeup done, and now, she’d helped you find the right outfit—a dress in vibrant emerald green that hugged your curves and fell to about mid-thigh. You smoothed out the straps and twisted to see yourself in the mirror.

“Why’re you frowning. This is perfect!” Andréa said.

“I just…” You sighed, once again trying to tug up the neckline. It was a bit lower than you preferred, but if you remembered right, your friend had encouraged this purchase a while back.

“It isn’t too much, is it?” you asked.

“Not for a first date with a smokin’ hot firefighter, mind the pun,” Andréa teased. “You’re a knockout, babe. He won’t be able to pick up his tongue off the floor…but I’m sure you can find a place for him to put it.”

You spluttered laughing, even after you made a scandalized sound. “You’re ridiculous.”

Still, you knew you could always count on Andréa to hype you up. You appreciated that about her; she was confident without being petty or prideful. And while she never begrudged you for your more cautious approach to things, she did try to get you out of your comfortable shell when you needed it. This, apparently, was one of those times.

You chose a pair of black suede heels Dean hadn’t seen before, along with a few spritzes of perfume in strategic locations on your body.

“Okay, Dean’s supposed to get here at 8:00. Until then, regale me with more about your night with Captain Benjamin Lafitte,” you said, drawing out each word of the man’s name with a suggestive flourish.

Andréa gave a dreamy sigh. She smiled as she sat back against her headboard in bed.

“He was just so…” she trailed, like she was sorting through a collection of memories, savoring each one, all while trying to find a way to distill it all into a simple sentence. She had an artist’s mind, and so tended to romanticize. But you enjoyed the way she spun her stories.

“Earthy, and real, while still being charming,” she said. “I’m pretty sure he let me win the pool game. Which ordinarily would annoy the shit out of me, but when he offered to buy me another drink, I couldn’t say no, and…we talked until the bar closed.”

“Wow.” Your eyes widened as you made the finishing touches on your clipped up hair.

“Right? I’ve never had an experience like that with a perfect stranger,” she said. “I think…I think it was like, one of those connections you hear about, see on TV but never think it happens in real life. I’ll tell you, when we walked into the bar, his eyes were the first thing I saw. And they were the last thing I remember from that night, after he kissed me goodnight…well, more like made out against my car, but you get the idea.”

She smiled as her face became lost in thought. Meanwhile, you tried not to be envious that she’d had more courage than you.

“Are you going to see him again soon?” you asked. Andréa seemed to come back down to Earth at the question, meeting your gaze.

“I think so,” she said. “We’re trying to plan something for next week. He’s also a construction contractor.”

You nodded. “Yeah, Dean was telling me that a lot of them have part-time jobs when they’re not on shift.”

“Does he do anything on the side?” she asked.

“If I remember right, he said he fixes cars sometimes, but I’m not sure if he’s a certified mechanic,” you replied.

“Well, maybe he can spruce up your old-ass Toyota Camry. How long have you had that thing?” she asked.  

You scoffed. “Since college. And it was old then, since I got it used…I think I’ve racked up about 200,000 miles on it.”

Andréa grimaced. “Oh God. You really need a new car, before that thing breaks down on you.”

“That’s what I keep tellin’ her,” said Grandpa George. He appeared in the doorway with a mug of tea. He waved at Andréa on your phone screen. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Hey, George. What’re your plans this evening? Go-karting or roller blading?” she teased with a grin.

George matched it with a hearty laugh. Andréa was his favorite.

“Well, I think I’ll start at the roller disco and see where my heart takes me,” he replied. Though he had fond stars in his eyes, and you smiled, knowing what memory he was about to recall.

“Ah, my wife and I met at one of those cheesy-ass places in the ‘70s,” he said. “She was a regular there, had the knee-high socks, the shiny skirt, her long hair whipping around like a rope… I remember she skated past me and knocked me clean onto my ass. I watched her skate away, that little skirt swishing. I think I was half in love right there.”

Your heart twinged, both for yourself and for him, as you could see the sting of melancholy in his eyes. Your grandmother had passed away a few years ago, but it was still deeply painful for both of you.

George shook his head, as if clearing the ghosts of memory from his mind. He looked over at you with a fond smile.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” he said. And he reached out for your hand, playfully raising it above your head and twirling you around as you smiled. “Reminds me of when your grandma helped you get ready for the senior prom.”

You snorted at that. “You mean when she almost glued my eyes shut, trying to get those fake lashes on?”

You’d rather pluck out your own eyes than have to ever again go through the “de-gluing process,” as she’d called it.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any pictures of you that night,” George considered. A knowing smile crossed his face. “You looked adorable.”

“I looked like I had a wonky eye,” you retorted. “Why do you think I burned all the evidence?”

Andréa tried not to, but she chortled at your expense. You shot her a narrowed look.

“Careful,” she teased. “Don’t strain yourself, Wonky. You’ve got a better night than prom ahead of you.”

“Speaking of, when’s that boy supposed to pick you up?” George asked.

You let out a breath, slightly nervous as you checked the time on your phone.

“In about ten minutes.”

“Okay, for the third time,” Sam said, trying his best to be patient. He sat on Dean’s bed while the man stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He was debating the age-old question: tie, or no tie?

“Red wine goes with red meat. White wine goes with chicken and fish,” Sam reminded him. “If you get red, you want to order a bottle of merlot. It’s full bodied without being dry as hell.”

“Yeah, merlot with meat. Got it,” Dean nodded. “What’s white again?”

“Everything else,” Sam said, once again. “If you order white, I’d say go with a pinot grigio. It’s light, can be dry or can be fruity. It all depends on personal preference, but I really like—”

“Well, I’m probably getting steak, so no to pinot,” Dean said. He finally decided on no tie, just a black suit jacket over the dark blue shirt, with a couple of buttons left open at the top.

Sam sighed and gestured at his brother. “And what if she wants fish? What if she hates red wine?”

Dean frowned. “Right. Okay. Pinot or merlot, got it.”

“Always ask to try it first,” Sam added. “Or here’s a thought. You could just be yourself. Order a beer and let her get whatever she wants.”

His frown deepening, Dean shook his head and left his bathroom. He crossed his bedroom to find his shoes—the nice black ones he only wore for weddings and funerals.

“Nah. This girl’s classy, Sam. Can’t half-ass this,” he said. A bit of unease coiled in his stomach, but he tried his best to ignore it.

He couldn’t remember the last time he got nervous to meet a girl…maybe because he hadn’t gone out on an actual “dinner and conversation” date in a while.

Or at least, he didn’t think he could count his dates as real ones.

“You’ll be fine,” Sam said. He could see plainly what his brother didn’t want to admit, only because they knew each other so well.

Dean glanced over at Sam and flickered at a smile. He grabbed his keys, his wallet, and didn’t think he was missing anything…

“Dean,” Sam said. He nodded over at the bundle on the dresser. Dean reached for it and shot his brother a wink.

“Hold the fort, Sammy.”

His car rumbled to a stop in front of your house just a few minutes late. Dean took a moment to admire the nice-looking beige house with its dark trim, old but still in good condition. And he wondered if you had roommates, or if you lived alone. Maybe you even owned this place. 

He wasn’t sure, as he could only see one car in the driveway (your car, he recognized). He knew he’d need about two or three other roommates to be able to afford this two-story house. 

He straightened his collar and blew out a breath. Get it together, asshole. You’re going on a date, not running into a burning building.

Funny, he’d probably be less nervous with the latter.

You’re not nervous, he reminded himself. You like her, that’s all…yeah.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Dean turned off the car and grabbed his key out of the ignition on his way out. He walked up the red brick path up to the porch and knocked on your door.

His pulse picked up a bit when he heard a pair of heels approaching the door. Soon enough, it opened, and Dean was greeted with a sight. Namely your face, and a smile spreading across it.

Beautiful, he couldn’t help but think, as his gaze dipped to take in the rest of you. He liked the color of your pretty green dress, the soft and classy makeup, the goddamn sexy heels, and the way your hair was pinned up. (Even though it looked so soft, he wanted to see it loose.)

He liked it all, especially that you seemed happy to see him.

“Hey there,” you said, a little breathy, like you’d been hastening down the stairs.

Dean gave you a smile, along with the small bouquet of flowers he’d been hiding behind his back.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His smile deepened when you uttered a gasp at the modest bundle of red tulips. “Feel like I should’a gone with something more impressive to match you. You look beautiful.”

You glanced up at him with a sweet smile, but you took the flowers and shook your head.

“No, these are gorgeous. I…can’t remember the last time someone gave me flowers,” you admitted.

It was a bit old-fashioned, but one of Dean’s earliest memories as a kid was seeing his dad come home, late from work as he so often was. But he’d stopped along the way at his mom’s favorite flower shop. He brought her red tulips rather than red roses.

Dean didn’t know why. Maybe that was her favorite flower, or maybe the roses were all out. In his memory though, his mom’s upset faded whenever she saw those flowers.    

“Thank you,” you said warmly, taking Dean out of his thoughts. He flashed you a smile touched with slight embarrassment. He drew a hand through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Well, uh, are you ready?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yep! Just need to grab my purse and put these in some water.”

You welcomed him inside the house while he waited for you to find a vase. Dean took the opportunity to look around from where he stood in the hall. It looked big on the outside, but inside, it looked like a cozy family home. He took in the wood furniture, a paisley couch in the living room, family pictures on the wall and in a China cabinet rather than actual fine China.

It didn’t exactly scream high-powered saleswoman, but maybe you’d inherited it from your family. Or you were going to have it fixed up before you sold it, like some Property Brothers-type action. Or he was reading too much into it entirely, and should just focus on the fact that you’d agreed to go out with him to begin with.

Dean perked up when you returned with your purse on your shoulder and the tulips in a vase, which you set down on the living room coffee table for now. You greeted him again with smile.

“I’ll find a better place for those later, just didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you said.

“You’re good,” he said. He offered you his hand, along with a grin. “I hope you’re hungry though. I know how much you like dinner.”

You giggled, ducking your head in embarrassment. You followed him out the front door.

“If we can forget about that tipsy foot-in-mouth moment, that’d be great,” you said. Dean shook his head.

“Sorry, my mind’s like a steel trap,” he teased, even as he led you down the few steps of your porch in your heels.

“Oh, really?” Your brow raised. “Okay, I’ll remember you said that.”

Dean smirked. “Uh oh. Why do I feel like that one’s gonna bite me in the ass someday?”

“We’ll see,” you replied in amusement. “Future dinners might be on the line here.”

Your eyes widened when you finally saw his car parked behind yours in the driveway. Big and black and sleek and Chevrolet.

“Wow. That’s your car?”

Dean shot you a grin that was somehow proud without being smug.

“You like her?” he asked. He unlocked the car and even opened the passenger side door for you.

Wow again. A rare gentleman. You smiled and obliged him by climbing in.

“I think I do,” you said. Dean got in on his side after closing your door. The doors creaked and the engine rumbled when he turned the ignition. He looked over at you in a way that made your insides both flutter and melt. Anticipation and warmth.

“Think she likes you too,” he said.

Shit, what did Sam say? Dean stared down the wine menu, which may as well have been a Chinese grocery list, for all he knew.

Red was what? What the hell is a Malbec? Sounds like a kind of fish. That can’t be red wine.

He discreetly raised his gaze above the menu. You were sitting there, pretty much perfect while you looked over the appetizer menu. This was an Italian restaurant. A nice one, and a cut above Dean’s usual dining spots. Neither of you had eaten here before, but you looked vastly more comfortable than he felt. 

“What sounds better to you, clams or bruschetta?” you asked. Your eyes flicked up to his thoughtfully. “You don’t strike me as a clammy kinda guy.”

A smile tugged at his lips. There was a “clam” joke in there somewhere, but he wasn’t sure you’d appreciate it.

“Bruschetta is the toast with little tomatoes, right?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, but then your head tilted as you looked down at the menu again. “Or we could do meatballs. Comes with two—a ball each.”

You bit your lip over a smile, tinged with embarrassment, like you didn't realize what you were saying until you said it.

Dean smirked. Maybe your sense of humor was more in line with his than he expected.

“Well, I don’t typically go for balls, meaty or otherwise. But whatever you want, sweetheart,” he teased. Truth be told, he loved Italian meatballs, but right now, he liked your snort of amusement even more.   

By the time the server, Liam, came to the table, you seemed to know what you wanted, while Dean was still looking over the wine list like it was Calculus homework. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Liam asked.

Dean paused, unsure of how to respond. He glanced at you on reflex. You were waiting for him to say something, he knew. He just wasn’t sure what he could say that didn’t make him look like an idiot.

“I’ll have a glass of this Cabernet Sauvignon,” you replied to the server, and pointed out the name of the wine on the list. He nodded and wrote that down, then turned to Dean next.

“And for you, sir?” Liam asked.

Again, Dean had a conundrum.

He decided to play it safe. “I’ll have the same.”

You eyed him a moment, before you turned back to Liam.

“Can we try it first? See if we like it,” you said.

“Certainly,” he nodded. “Do you want to start with an appetizer?”

“Yes. The meatballs, please,” you replied, glancing at Dean with secret amusement. His lips hinted at a smirk.

When the server left to put in the order, you rested your elbows on the table and folded your hands under your chin.

“Something tells me you’re not big on wine,” you said.

Dean’s smile became more self-deprecating as he tapped a finger on the table.

“That obvious, huh? …Well, can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Dean Winchester.” Your head tilted as you considered him. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“Trying, maybe. Doubt I’m succeeding,” he admitted with a short laugh.

You let out a small sigh, but you didn’t look disappointed.

“I just want to get to know you,” you said. “You don’t have to woo me or anything.”

His brow rose in a subtle challenge. “What if you deserve a bit of wooing?”

You glanced down then, with a pretty blush beginning to dust your cheeks. He could still spot it in the dim lamplight, and it made him smile.

“I get what you’re saying,” he inclined his head. “I just have a feeling the guys you go out with know how to order a bottle of wine, at least.”

You met his gaze at that. Your brows drew together, and it wasn’t until that that you realized what Dean seemed to be thinking. Like you were somehow better than him, or out of his league. While that was incredibly flattering (and downright surprising), it just wasn’t true, you felt.

You’d been nervous as hell up until this point, convinced that this man’s interest was half because he’d saved you. Because really, between the cut of that jaw, that smile, and those eyes, he could have anyone. And yet, he’d noticed you.

So now, you gained enough courage to reach across the table and rest your hand over his. It earned his attention.

“Look, Dean,” you said. “You don’t know anything about the kind of guys I go out with, so why don’t you just try to get to know me, instead of being whatever you think I want?”

There was a challenge in your eyes, but your smile softened it, along with your hand in his. Dean curled his fingers around your hand, and he nodded.

“That’s fair,” he said. His thumb drew across the back of your hand as he considered what you’d said. He realized he wasn’t being fair…

“See, women tend to like the firefighter thing, until they don’t,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, after a little while, it’s like the shine wears off,” Dean admitted. “Between the long, sometimes inconsistent hours, the weight of the job… It’s either too much, or not enough, you know?”

As much as that disheartened you to hear, you kind of understood what he was saying. First responders led challenging lives, and you could imagine how hard it would be to maintain relationships—from family and friends to lovers. And when he met your eyes, you had a feeling you knew what he was really saying underneath.

It’s not enough…or he’s not enough?

You frowned and squeezed his hand.

“That must make it hard to find a real connection with someone,” you said.

Dean read the look in your eyes: sympathetic, but not pitying. He appreciated that, and you right now. But he was also getting a bit embarrassed. Good job, Mr. Overshare.

He let go of your hand just to lean back in his seat and card his fingers through his hair. He blew out a breath.

“Sorry. Don’t know why I’m saying all this crap,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled and crossed your arms on the table. “It’s not crap.”

He gave you a wry smile.

This Dean is not what I expected, you thought. He was all panty-dropping smiles and one-liners, until he wasn’t. Behold, the softie underneath.

Liam soon returned with two glasses with a sample of the wine you’d requested. Dean took his glass, but waited a moment to watch you bring yours up to your face. You inhaled first before you took an experimental sip. You smiled and hummed at the taste. It led Dean to sip his as well.

He immediately made a face at the bitter, strong taste that razed across his tastebuds. He was used to the burn of alcohol, but this was just gross.

That’s when he caught that look on your face—a small smile as you gauged his reaction.

“Refreshing,” Dean quipped. And dry as hell.

“You want a beer instead?” you asked.

“Definitely,” Dean nodded, looking up at Liam. “Heineken, if you please.”

“That I can do.” The other man quirked a smile. “And for you, miss?”

You tapped on the rim of your wine glass. “A glass of this please. Thank you.”

“Absolutely,” Liam replied. “I’ll bring those shortly.”

Dean watched you with a smile. You caught him at it and smiled back questioningly.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothin’.”

He liked the way you carried yourself. Smart and classy, without being a snob. Confident and sexy at times, while shy and freakin’ adorable at others…

Damn, Dean thought. He liked you. He did.

And he didn’t want to admit it, but that kind of scared him.

AN: Hohoo, so believe it or not, this is just part 1 of the first date! The rest is to come in the next chapter. But how did you like this so far?

Next Time:

You watched him curiously as he shrugged out of his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders, like this was some kind of Hallmark moment.

Heh. Can’t believe Meg had it right, he thought, as he caught your blush.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Can’t let you catch cold in this little dress,” Dean reasoned.

He gently tugged you in closer by the ends of his jacket. Once again, his gaze was drawn to your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. You still held both ice cream cones between you two, but he could be careful enough to sample something else.

He started to lean in…

Keep Reading: PART 4

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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#Got a Hold on Me #Smoke Eater #Part 3 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #benny lafitte #jo harvelle #andrea kormos #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

[shallowseeker]

Howdy Howdy! Wishing you a fast recovery! Here's something to ponder while you're stuck inside: Are there any villains in spn you wish would have been redeemed? How about any characters you wish would have had a corruption arc? What would you want their redemption/corruption arcs to look like?

Hands-down, I wanna see Bela Talbot. I'd trade an embarrassing number of "golden era" regulars to see her come back and get the "demon Dean" treatment (i.e. having moral grayness around the "work/cases" Hell assigns to her).

Like other demon characters, having her work through her own corruption/toxicity/bitterness/despair would be great. The consequences of her survivorship would be Chef's Kiss for me.

//

Secondly, I wanted to see Andrea Kormos in an extended Purgatory Round II (15x09). She'd make a great mirrored Plot Device for the New Quest (finding the flower/escaping/fighting Lillith etc).

Like Bela, Andrea would work for me personally because she also has to work through her Stockholm Syndrome and corruption. Like Bela, she'd be dealing with the consequences of her survivorship. (I’m sensing I like a theme here…)

For narrative symmetry, of course, she clings to Cas. (I think Cas can be Very Appealing to "ruined/corrupted" characters, especially when he decides to extend his gentle version of non-judgment, so it could really, really work and create Big Emotional Complications). Theme: it's never too late/you can start being good any time.

//

That aside, I think the main three all need to finish their arcs as parents. Especially Sam. For me personally, his final turn was like lukewarm dishwater.

///

As for moral decay/corruption, I'd like to see characters like Eileen Leahy and Charlie Bradbury do a lot more fucking up. (I know Charlie split in the Oz thing and Eileen shot a MoL dude, but I found their mistakes to be generally very "safe.") Same for Lata from The Winchesters.

I'd kill for them to get the Mary Winchester treatment--that is, to be allowed to fuck up as much as The Boys Do.

For Eileen, it'd look like this, I think. I haven't got any good ideas for Charlie, because I find her annoying (I say this with Love now). Lata would naturally have to reckon with her pacifism and hypocrisy.

#asks #spnwin #andrea kormos #purgatory #spn lillith #demon dean #bela talbot #eileen #eileen leahy #lata

[youre-only-gay-once]

Women in Supernatural ◦ 8×05 ◦ Blood Brother

#andrea kormos #amelia richardson #spnedit #supernaturaledit #spn #supernatural #8x05 #blood brother #myspngifs #womeninsupernatural

[arsonistsam]

Day Four of the @transbearbenny 200 follower Celebration

Benny Ships: Bi4Bi Andrea and Bear!Benny dance at a gay club in 1963 Florence and 2013 Cleveland.

Andrea takes him to a club. They’re in Cleveland this time, nothing like the fast paced life of Florence when they met.

When they walk into the building, Benny’s surprised at how full it is. Andrea just takes his hand in hers a leads him to the bar, “The club scene’s different from what it was in the ‘60s,” she looks around. “Much more action here.”

Benny didn’t mind the small clubs and bars they practically lived in back in Florence. The first time where not only was his build and manner accepted but celebrated. A sticky floor where the top of his shows shoes swept the hems of dress pants and gowns alike.

He orders something fruity, the type of thing you couldn’t find back then even at the types of places they hung around.

He raises his glass to Andrea, gorgeous as ever, “I don’t mind.”

She shakes her head and laughs, “You wouldn’t.”

There’s no stage in this club, just a large dance floor where everyone’s pressed up together. Pushing and swirling with no specific finesse.

Benny remembers raising his eyes to the stage during his first visit with Andrea, not more than two days since they had met. There was someone in a red dress, tall with heels that made her tower ever larger, with a baritone voice that sung like an angel.

To say Benny was startstruck would be an understatement. Especially when the singer came off the stage and swiped a hand across Benny’s shoulders in passing. It was always going to be Andrea he went home with that night, though.

Now, he and Andrea with their drinks step out onto the floor. It’s hot and he’s already sweating through his white tank top. Andrea kisses the cheeks of a woman she sees across the room as Benny bobs his head to the music.

When Andrea comes back he ropes her into a dance, pressing them together with a hand to her back and hers in his hair.

There’s a lot more grinding to the dance than there was when they used to hit the town. Not that the scene was always sweet and gentle but even here, times have changed.

Someone comes up behind him, about level height- maybe taller- to Benny. He presses against Benny’s back, moving with them, blowing warm air onto the back of his neck. Benny could shake ‘im off but he’s already breathless from Andrea’s lips brushing his ear and the stranger’s hand gripping his hips.

Andrea pulls him into a kiss. He’s never loved her as much as right now, she’s flawless in the dark light- flushed and breathing hard. Sweat wets her skin and hair, loose from her ponytail, sticks to her face.

The stranger brushes stubble across the hair on the back of Benny’s neck. Makes him jolt back into that hard line like he’s stuck between too furnaces. The idea of a Benny-sandwich makes him laugh right into Andrea’s mouth. She kisses him with their teeth clacking.

The world narrows back down to the two of them when the stranger leaves, presumably to find a dance partner who’s more practiced at the swivel of his hips to the beat.

Andrea’s eyes are glassy, she tugs on a piece of leather at his hip. “Let’s get out of here!” She yells over the music.

This time Benny’s the one to pull her through to the bar. He raps on the counter, “‘cuse me, how do I pay for the tab?”

The bartender looks confused, they point up to a sign that says in big bold lettering BEAR NIGHT: TUESDAY NIGHTS BEARS DRINK FREE.

Andrea pushes him through to the exit, she’s laughing at him, good-naturedly. “You really think a place like that has a tab?”

“How was I supposed to know? I’ve never been here before. I never saw you pay, neither.”

Andrea leans into his side, hard, “I just told him drinks were on you,” she giggles again.

Benny turns around to face him, cups her face in his hands and swoops down to kiss her in the street-lamp light.

“I love you.”

Andrea smiles wide, “I love you.”

A thousand cars pass as they stand on the sidewalk and a thousand people dance, in 1963 and 2013.

#andrea kormos #benny lafitte #BennyLafitte200Celebration #BennyAndrea #Bisexual Benny Lafitte #spn ficlet

[shallowrambles]

Going anon because this is a sensitive subject in fandom and I don't want to offend anyone.

I'm don't 100% agree but you inspired me to take a closer look at the Blood Brother ep. I've never seen it analyzed like that, and although your words bothered me, I think you had some good points. I don't think the fandom idealization of Benny is as bad as the fandom version of Sam, but your argument that similar forces are at work for both of them is really compelling.

I never really cared about Andrea, but everything you said has given me pause, but I think you might be right and the illusion in The Werther Project is a lot closer to the actual Benny we see on screen.

I love your take on Andrea, and I'm with you that it might've have been cooler and more of an unexpected twist to see her in purgatory instead during season 15! I love your brain!

Happy to give you something to ponder, then! It's sometimes fun to entertain the shadow selves of characters, and I think the treatment of Andrea Kormos toes the line of darkness and nihilism in a way that is often overlooked. :-)

TBF, I think all soldier-coded characters struggle with this. Michael, Dean, Cas, Mary, AU Charlie and others...struggle with this pretty often. It's not unique to his character per se. It's that old soldier-coded derealization. I feel like it's especially strong/most pronounced in the in child-raised soldiers, ones who've been raised/created to fight (Dean, Mary, Cas, Jack, etc).

///

But anyway, I like this angle because it compels me, not because I dislike any of the soldier-coded characters. After all, it's a bit unflattering to be a soldier, fighter, warrior, (cop, hunter, military, angel, etc etc etc) in the first place!

But the idealization of Benny feeds into the strange imho idealization of Purgatory, that "pure" is somehow a positive thing when it's applied to Dean-Cas (it almost-never is in SPN, and I don't think it is here either). I think the whole existence of Purgatory is a nod to the worst selves of the soldiers, that black-and-white mentality and "rigid code" that both Dean and Cas tend to fall into...as well as suicidality and checking out of the complexity of "civilian" life.

When Benny says he doesn't "fit" and he's no good here, he's embodying the soldier who goes back. It's alluded to with, "The guy who got out and then came back. Like an idiot." It's got a name: "The Back There Paradox."

Deployments, and especially combat deployments, were a place where we knew how to use the skills we had developed. What we did was significant...Life could be very simple while deployed; get up, do your job... Sure, it got boring and repetitive, but we knew how to do stuff and we knew where things were. It was familiar."

We see this too with Dark Kaia in season 14-15: " At least over there, I understood things -- the world, my place in it."

What I'm saying is that soldier-coded characters' rigid adherence to "rules" can be just as neurotic as Sam's moral relativism spirals. (Cas is super fascinating because he embodies both tendencies!)

Purgatory represents "unthinking war," where there's 24/7, 360-degree combat. It's the horrific bloodlust that many soldiers are often too ashamed to admit they're addicted to, what is often quoted as: should "stay overseas, unsaid." It's the secret shame veterans won't readily admit to but many understand and know all too well.

Dean even shows signs of this in his fantasy world in AU Michael's bar, with the fame he crows about here (14x10, Nihilism):

DEAN: What you got? PAMELA: (wiping Deans face) Worst part of working here is having to clean up the blood after some pissed-off monster busts in to kill you. DEAN: (smirking) Well, what can I say? I'm famous.

///

"Being exposed to the adrenaline and the fame associated with being a soldier creates a dangerous addiction. Many veterans that deployed to combat come back to the states and chase the high that they felt on the battlefield." x

///

The unusual thing with Dean and Cas, is that they each recognize the nihilistic soldier in each other...ranging at times from joyful nihilism to the suicidal sorrow that's all wrapped up with identity-as-soldier-"weapon" and seeing combat far too often. (THIS is the subtext that attracts so many veterans.)

But the thing that's different for them is that they're crazed to get each other out. Underlined in two separate throughlines in season 8 and 15.

This is a little bit echoed in Alt Mary and Alt John, who also want to get each other out of hunting in SPNwin. That's what attracted Mary to John initially, that he was a soldier with a big heart even though he'd seen The Horrors.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is. I have a soft spot for the soldier who try, have tried, and are trying to get out. Even when they fail, like Benny did.

///

Anyway, soldiers are "loyal dogs." We see Dean referred to as a dog as late as season 15, when Lucifer calls him old "faithful," (like a dog) in one of Chuck's alternate endings. They're also "fish" (out of water). Bait. Bombs. Hammers. Blunt instruments.

They struggle with feeling perpetually dislocated when they're away from combat.

That’s where the, “I’m not sure what’s real” primarily stems from.

#complex benny #nihilism #season 8 and mirages illusions and idealizations #andrea kormos #sorry went off on a purgatory tangent again #benny and nihilism #dean and nihilism #the tragic rigidity of soldiers #mary stuff #benny stuff #dean stuff #cas stuff #john stuff #au charlier stuff #etc etc all the soldier characters #spnwin #anyway benny gets a raw deal when he's simplified to a queer caricature - the two subtexts are equally important and valid! #combat addiction #spn vs nihilism #meaning vs nihilism #meaningful story VERSUS meaningless story #eileen adjacent #good soldiers #mary adjacent #chuck voice: you make a good soldier not by force but by getting them to choose it #existential crises

[klayr-de-gall]

The Gilded Waves

By @psyleedee

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - FantasyCrimes & Criminals, Thief Castiel (Supernatural), Prostitute Castiel (Supernatural), True Mates, Fluff and Angst, Miscommunication, Enemies to Lovers, Love at First Sight, Scent Marking, Dom/sub Undertones, Smut, Anal Sex, Knotting, Canon-Typical Violence, Murder Husbands, Breeding, Older Dean Winchester, Young Castiel (Supernatural), Dark Past, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Implied Mpreg, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Twink Castiel (Supernatural), Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Final Battle, Minor Character Death, Action & Romance, Rogue Castiel (Supernatural)

Summary:

Dean Winchester was a living-legend; a threat mothers scared their pups with if they misbehaved, undisputed king of the seas: the most dangerous alpha-pirate to exist. Dean lived by food, blood, and sex. And nothing could ever change that, until one fine night, when one, cheeky little omega dancer stole his heart away for once and evermore, and right then was when Dean Winchester was truly, deeply gone. From a lustful heathen to a gentle romantic, it was love at first sight. Not to mention the tempting curves, the sinful voice, and that aprhrodisiac of a scent that drove Dean wild to no extent.

But Castiel wasn't your ordinary prostitue. Not by the tiniest chance.

Castiel was a living-legend; a threat people scared alphas with. Known to be the chief of the most wicked, clever, and underground bandit-gang whose mission was to rid the world of useless, abusive, brutish alphas.

Castiel cannot love Dean; he isn't allowed to.

But love— it finds a way, doesn't it?

[read on Ao3]

⋆﹥-----------------------﹤⋆

@psyleedee’s and mine entry for the DCBB2022 event, by @deancasbigbang!

I had an absolute blast creating art for this story! The pirate theme had me in it's grasp from the absolute start, and the Story absolutely delivered! Make sure to check it out!!

Thank you for being such an amazing partner @psyleedee! It was great working with you! 💙💙💙

#deancasbigbang2022 #dcbb2022 #destiel #dean Winchester #Castiel #spn #supernatural #spn AU #Alternativ universe #pirate destiel #Pirate!Dean #Pirate!Cas #my art #I had so much fun drawing all the details! #mind the tags

[suncaptor]

#incoherents #spn #supernatural

[apocalypseornaw]

Should've Known (1/3)

(NOT MY GIF)

Benny Lafitte x Reader (reader has nickname of Bandit. This will be a mini series with the break up first then how they got together then Benny coming to find her)

Human/Hunter Benny AU

When you have a confrontation with Benny's ex there's some truths you have to face

Andrea's words still rang in your ears as you moved around Benny's place, plucking up everything that belonged to you and throwing it into your duffle bag. Elizabeth was supposed to call you before he left the café but if she happened to get busy or if he slipped out without her realizing... well you didn't want him coming home to you leaving him. With any hope you'd be halfway to Sioux Falls by the time he realized you were gone.

How could you have been so stupid? How could you not have seen the fact that you were just a rebound? Of course he still loved Andrea....you were just an easy option when he'd ended up alone. You blinked away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you replayed the conversation with Andrea in your head.

She'd found you in a coffee shop in New Orleans, you'd driven there to meet Jo and Veronica, just your luck they'd been late. Normally you didn't let anyone else's opinion of you matter but you were fresh off a hunt, bruised to hell and back and had a fresh line of stitches across your shoulder that hurt every time you moved the wrong way.

You hadn't even known what the hell she was doing in Louisiana, let alone the exact coffee shop you'd picked to meet your friends in. "Andrea, I don't want to get into this with you" you'd tried the path to being the bigger person but the moment she'd said "You're a little broken shell of a woman. Your parents didn't even want you that's how poor Bobby ended up being saddled with you" you'd swung on her. You knocked her backwards over two tables and probably would've gone to jail had Jo and Veronica not shown up when they did.

"Woah! Bandit what the hell?" Jo was the first one in the door and grabbed you before you could go after Andrea again. "She's a fucking bitch and I'm gonna show her ass what this broken shell of a woman can do!" Veronica ever the calmer heads prevail was talking the batista out of calling the police and telling Andrea just to back off.

You were still struggling against Jo when Andrea got to her feet with the help of a few bystanders who were using offering assistance as a means to be nosy "Oh honey, did you really think Benny fell for someone like you after having someone like me?" "Are you just pissed he found someone better?" Jo asked loosening her grip on you when Andrea scoffed "Better? No. Easier? Yeah"

Jo let you go completely at that but about that time a cop car rolled by the window. "Shit" you muttered and Andrea smiled "Perks of being an heiress over a Neanderthal" you bristled at her words but didn't move from your spot "Why are you so damn hateful?"

She shrugged "Benny and I may have had our issues but I'm the one who'll always have his heart. Funny thing is you're here in New Orleans the same weekend he asked me to swing through Carencro" she glanced at the chain that had fallen out of your shirt and the ring that was on it before adding "Oh now that's just pathetic, is that the same ring he gave me?" You felt like ice water had been thrown on you "What?"

Jo could sense your change from anger so before Andrea could see you break she slid between the two of you "Get one thing straight Kormos. I don't give a damn who your daddy is, hurt her and I'll tear you and Benny apart"

With that Jo grabbed your arm and walked you out between her and Veronica. You managed to make it to your car before the anger and embarrassment filled tears started to fall from your eyes "He gave me the ring he gave her?"

Jo cut her eyes at Veronica before stepping in front of you "Cmon bandit" when you didn't respond to your nickname she called your name harshly and that was enough to make you meet her eyes "Do not put yourself down any. Andrea is a manipulative bitch, she got pissed that Benny wouldn't sell his bar and wouldn't talk Elizabeth into selling the café. She is jealous of you and even if he was dumb enough to give you the same ring, if he's dumb enough to not see how fucking amazing you are forget him! Come home to Sioux Falls. You know Mom and Bobby always have a place for you. We can go back to hunting together, Sam and Dean are always up for you hunting with them. You don't need Benny nor Carencro"

Jo and Veronica had ended up following you back to Carencro once you left New Orleans. Jo was the closest thing you had to a sister and she refused to let you be alone.

You looked over the place one final time to make sure nothing that belonged to you was left behind. After making sure you pulled the necklace from your pocket and placed it on the kitchen counter with the note you'd written Benny, Jo's idea to leave your favorite coffee mug next to the note to rub salt into the wound popped into your head so you did just that before laying your keys down next to it as well. You didn't need keys to his place, the café or the bar anymore.

You locked the door before shutting it behind yourself. Jo was sitting on the hood of your car but Veronica was already gone. "Where Roni go?" You asked and she gave you a small smile "She just got a head start. I told her she could go ahead, that I'd ride back with you. Figured we could do the diner and roadside attraction thing on the way back like we used to"

You nodded slowly "Ok" with one final look at the place you'd spent most of your time over the last couple years when you weren't hunting you climbed into your car. There wasn't anything left for you here, Elizabeth had confirmed that Andrea hadn't been lying...Benny had asked her to come to Carencro while you were gone. You didn't know why nor did you want to know. He was free to be with who he wanted and you could go back to your life before you'd ever met him.

Benny was tired when he got off his shift at the café. He was supposed to open the bar too but luckily Morgan had been able to go in so that meant he could head home and get some sleep. You were supposed to be back the following day from meeting Jo and Veronica, after Andrea hadn't showed up for the meeting he'd scheduled he was hoping she wouldn't wait to shown until you were back. He wanted this done quickly and without you knowing.

He walked into his place and knew something was wrong. It felt empty. The photo of you, Sam, Dean and Jo was gone off the mantle over the fireplace. Your extra boots weren't at the front door. He felt his stomach drop as he headed into the bedroom to check.

---------

He didn't know what he'd done wrong. You'd called him just that morning to let him know you'd made it to New Orleans safe and sound. You'd told him you loved him before you hung up and what? Decided to make the return trip and leave him right after?

He walked into the kitchen and spotted your coffee mug sitting next to a piece of paper. He picked up the black mug and turned it over, the raccoon on it smiling at him as if his entire world wasn't falling apart. He sat it down then picked up the paper, your necklace falling out of it and the ring making an impossibly loud noise as it hit the floor.

Benny,

Andrea was in New Orleans. We had a nice little chat. Elizabeth confirmed she wasn't lying about some of the things she said so I'm assuming she wasn't lying about most of it. I don't know why I thought this would work, she's an heiress and I'm a hunter. We couldn't be more polar opposites. I was your friend before I was your lover, I know losing her hurt you, I should've listened to Dean when he tried to warn me but I was always hard headed. I'm headed home to Bobby's so you don't have to worry. I'm safe and won't be hunting alone. Know I loved you.

@valeks-star

@123passwort

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #benny lafitte fanfic #benny lafitte x reader #benny lafitte x female!reader

[deancasswitchbang]

Stepping Up and Stepping Out

TITLE: Stepping Up and Stepping out AUTHOR: Mydestielbabies_67 (@spnisthewayoflife) ARTIST: PetraAmia (@deancodedcastielenby​)

LINK TO FIC || LINK TO ART

PAIRINGS: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte MAJOR ARCHIVE WARNINGS: None TAGS: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Marriage breakdown, Lawyer Castiel (Supernatural), Bar Owner Dean Winchester, Chef Benny Lafitte, Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Brief Castiel/Others - Freeform, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Happy Ending, Dean/Cas Switch Bang 2023 (Supernatural) SUMMARY: Dean and Benny have been happily married for 7 years. On the night of their anniversary everything changes with a knock on the door and the delivery of a bombshell. But a chance meeting in a bar changes Dean’s life in ways he never anticipated.

#submission #deancasswitchbang #dcsb #dcsb2023 #Stepping Up and Stepping Out #Author: MyDestielBabies_67 #Artist: deancodedcastielenby

[ao3feed-destiel-02]

Hoist your colors

Hoist your colors https://ift.tt/oLrVgPz by Meluene So here was the thing - Dean Winchester didn't catch feelings for people easily. That was the truth for the last 36 years of his life, at least. Everything started to change however, when Dean forgot about his beloved boat for a moment, all because of the purest shade of ocean blue eyes, staring back at him. It is a story about running - from problems and yourself. It is a story about friendship, journey and longing, about responsibilities, expectations and the steps you’re willing to take to find what you are really looking for. It is a story of Dean, who sailed almost to the other side of the world in search of himself, but found something he never expected he would need instead. It is a story about love that has crossed seas and oceans, and about the courage that you need to find to become truly happy. Words: 16411, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural), Crowley (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury, Bobby Singer (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Original Children of Eileen Leahy and Sam Winchester, Jack Kline, Benny Lafitte, Meg | Demon Possessing Meg Masters, Mick Davies, Dorothy Baum Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, AU - Sailing, Sailor Dean Winchester, Sailor Castiel, The Impala is a sailboat, Minor Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor Dorothy Baum/Charlie Bradbury, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Minor Bela Talbot/Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Falling In Love, Coming Out, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Storms, Bad Weather, Sunsets, Stargazing, danger at the ocean, cooking together, Cas is vegan, boat fic, sailing fic, Action/Adventure, Dean builds sailboats, Jealous Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Developing Friendships, Bobby Singer is Dean and Sam Winchester's Parent, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Masturbation, Europe, Sailing, Sailors, sailboats, I don't want to spoil the plot too much, eggplants via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' https://ift.tt/1aklogZ December 10, 2023 at 09:00AM

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester' #Destiel #ao3feed #ao3feed Destiel #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Castiel/Dean Winchester #Dean x Castiel #Castiel x Dean

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 2

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.   

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.  

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Keep Reading: PART 3

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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#Lieutenant Winchester #Smoke Eater #Part 2 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #castiel #benny lafitte #john winchester #Meg Masters #Jack Kline #Gordon Walker #chuck shurley #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle #andrea kormos #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

[shallowseeker]

15x09 The Trap should have featured Emma W. and Andrea K. dancing in the ruins. Dean thinks maybe he’ll find Benny? Boom, enter Andrea and Emma who take a shine to Cas and wanna keep him.

Utter chaos!

Narrative symmetry! Dean-and-Jack shadow replacements, hello! And enticing Cas to stay ofc was always a crunchy theme.

#emma winchester #andrea kormos #narrative symmetry #come on this would’ve been soooo crunchy and messy and horrible #it would’ve needed another episode tho #andrea takes over purgatory...*she* is king of the place #see the thing i love about these eps #dean was passive-aggressively fishing for whether or not cas *really cared in the first place* and not just b/c of narrative reasons #he said: *i don’t know if you CARE or not but chuck is back on the board* #then about amara: *we had a thing* -- dean was fishing for a REACTION he is starved of cas reactions since cas tends to WITHDRAW #i would have LOVED dean to get an unexpected outlet for that messy spillover of emotion but reversed in the form of andrea and emma #and emma would have underlined jack’s death SO well you know it would've #even though dean had reason to be angry with cas for withdrawing #he was absolutely cruel with words and actions *you've been to hell before* while expecting / taking cas's support FOR GRANTED #yet he still expected cas to be there for him even when initially talking abt killing jack w/the equalizer in the bunker/chuck confrontatio #dean was so damn HURT over everything he was neurotically chomping at the bit for cas replacements from lee to benny to amara to whoever #even in the script of Last Call he was relishing getting his ass grabbed by that bar lady cause *it's nice to get some attention for once* #in the trap: *we should split up* #dean was craving a reaction FROM CAS #when dean can't even say jack's name! #when dean can't admit that trusting chuck was a mistake #*i always knew chuck was squirrelly and untrustworthy he says in 15x01 >>> he didn't* #anyhoo i think this scenario would have supported ALL of those complex crunchy situations! #cause it's almost like the whole - be careful what you wish for in dean's case but on the other foot

[deancasbigbang]

The Gilded Waves

Author: psyleedee

Artist: Klayr

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte

Length: 37855

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Mentions of Past Rape/Sexual Abuse.

Tags: Omega Verse, Pirate Dean Winchester, Rogue Castiel, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling in Love, Miscommunication, Action & Romance, True Mates, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester.

Summary: Dean Winchester was a living-legend; a threat mothers scared their pups with if they misbehaved, undisputed king of the seas: the most dangerous alpha-pirate to exist. Dean lived by food, blood, and sex. And nothing could ever change that, until one fine night, when one, cheeky little omega dancer stole his heart away for once and evermore, and right then was when Dean Winchester was truly, deeply gone. From a lustful heathen to a gentle romantic, it was love at first sight. Not to mention the tempting curves, the sinful voice, and that aprhrodisiac of a scent that drove Dean wild to no extent. But Castiel wasn't your ordinary prostitue. Not by the tiniest chance. Castiel was a living-legend; a threat people scared alphas with. Known to be the chief of the most wicked, clever, and underground bandit-gang whose mission was to rid the world of useless, abusive, brutish alphas. Castiel cannot love Dean; he isn't allowed to. But love— it finds a way, doesn't it?

Link to Fic | Link to Art

#dcbb 2022 #masterpost #2022 masterpost #deancas #destiel

[ao3feeddestiel]

Unprofessional Professional

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/aUSvC6q by Mydestielbabies_67 When Castiel first moved to New York, he was eighteen and needed a way to support himself without relying on his conservative family, which had booted him to the curb after he came out as gay and after working the streets, he fell into the world of high-end escorting, and he quickly found that he had a natural talent for it. He was charming, handsome, and he knew how to make his clients feel like they were the only person in the world that mattered. It wasn't always easy, and there were certainly risks involved, but Castiel loved the thrill of it all, and by fuck, he was damn good at it. Words: 10031, Chapters: 5/5, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Crowley (Supernatural), Benny Lafitte, Zachariah (Supernatural) Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Andrea Kormos/Benny Lafitte (mention) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Escort Service, Escort Castiel (Supernatural), Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Castiel/Dean Winchester BDSM, BDSM, Bathroom Sex, Butt Plugs, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Semi-Public Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Snowballing, POV Alternating, Shibari, Suspension, Anal Play, Anal Fingering, Whipping, Pain Slut Dean Winchester, Subspace, Double Penetration in One Hole, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Cock Slapping, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Benny Lafitte & Dean Winchester Friendship, Crowley (Supernatural) Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Rimming, Spit As Lube, Castiel Rides Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Epilogue, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/aUSvC6q

#IFTTT #Unprofessional Professional #Mydestielbabies_67

[luulapants]

#supernatural polls #supernatural season eight

[shallowrambles]

The virgin-whore, purity-corrupted phenomenon as it pertains to Andrea Kormos:

///

ANDREA: We have everything we need right here. The operation is still perfect. We can ride the high seas, plunder together. We can have the life we always wanted.

BENNY: What I wanted was to leave a burning crater behind. I wanted to put your memory to rest.

ANDREA: But I'm not a memory. Benny, I'm right here.

BENNY: What I loved – it ain't here anymore. It was snuffed out a long time ago by monsters like me... like what you've become.

ANDREA: You think you're better than me now?

BENNY: No. I think we're all damned.

ANDREA snarls and her fangs descend. DEAN stabs her from behind and then cuts off her head. BENNY and DEAN look at each other before BENNY looks down at ANDREA’s body.

///

I mean, yes; on the one hand, Benny doesn't quite imply that he's better than her, but he does imply that she's worthless, nothing--just a shadow of the idealized woman he put up on the trophy shelf as his "Reason for Being." All for deciding to live the exact life Benny had lived for so long. He doesn't even try to convince her to overcome or to compromise. He just...gives up. It's quite tragic and alarmingly indicative of how Benny views his relationships as a whole, as well as his place within them.

Season 8 is, in a sense, about mirages. It's about trying to desperately convince yourself things that are not real are. (Or that things that are real aren't.) It gives it an odd, dreamy quality. These mirages are somtimes idealized, baggage-less relationships and jobs/roles (friends, family, and otherwise) that COULD be good, if not for them representing idealization/escape/etc. (It's even echoed in Cas's wish to be a hunter solely to avoid the consequences of his genocide. Naomi's brainwashed Cas is an idealized angel without the baggage of chaos.)

Importantly, these mirages never let you down. But real bonds don't stay forever in that liminal limerance of "never letting you down." Strife and perseverance and deciding if they're worth tackling (or not) are precisely what transition bonds of all kinds into the latter phases of committment and stability (or ending). Every study and pop book lands on a similar conclusion.

But what happens here? Before Andrea even lashes out, Benny absolutely demolishes her worthiness, lameting that she's no longer the uncorrupted, unblemished idea of Perfect Woman from his memories. He cruelly says this to her face, rather than actively discussing alternative futures or seeking any kind of meaningful discussion about overcoming vampiric cannibalism. Ultimately, he cannot bear that she became sullied by his father in what amounts to a symbolic chess game of moving the chattel between the two men.

What if this person isn’t really as magnificent as we thought they were? This transition is painful, but it’s not a catastrophe. In fact, our emotional and relational health depend on it. For each of us to move forward in our development, we must face the fact that we’re different people with distinctive needs that will never mesh entirely.

Disillusionment is the dark, wintry season of love. By now power struggles have risen fully to the surface.

It’s a paradox: when we feel good about ourselves, we’re more likely to feel generous toward others.

- Linda Carrol

And now? He doesn't offer an alternative to Andrea. He doesn't offer insight into why that life ultimately never worked out for him. No, it's just a verbal lamentation that this blossom named Andrea has withered in the face of life's tribulations. (It's also insanely hypocritical, as Benny is equally corrupted as she, and he has worked on the high seas, plundering and eating for likely much longer, even if he's "recovered" from the lifestyle now.)

But Andrea isn't allowed to exist in this flawed state. She's not allowed to even hear a verbalized shade of gray or a potential compromise. It's either she stays unsullied or she has to die before she disturbs that holy, past image. When Benny gives up on Andrea, he gives up on his own image, too: "We're all damned," he says. All or nothing. Black or white. Benny's symbolic suicide was magnanimously present from this moment on. Not just because of how Andrea was killed but because of how he dismissed and dehumanized her prior to her aggression. He cannot see a possibility beyond Purgatory. He cannot see potential for true shades of gray in the new Andrea or himself. For him, life becomes a ticking countdown to self-annihilation.

///

BENNY: My life changed when she entered it, Dean. Everything I had been or done up to that point just... seemed to vanish... into what we had become together

This describes phase one of love, a merging, an innocent unrecognition of the complexity of The Other. It's a very immature love, an image of perfection that clearly Benny still longs for. "You cannot become like me. You exist to inspire me to be better, to meet my needs / nourish me with your blood, and to be the reason for either my rebellion / triumph, or the fridge for my emotional pain."

Once we emerge from the Merge, some of us will be able to reunite with our lover with new maturity and deeper, if perhaps less intense, satisfaction. It depends on our ability to reconcile two distinct needs: to dwell in the delights of the other and to stand firm in our own space. - Linda Carroll

They did not survive that middling doubt, denial, disillusionment phase. (And that's okay! They're both in bad, hopeless places.) What's surprising is Benny didn't even try. This shows an immaturity and complexity Benny never quite gets credit for (he is often The Feisty, Smooth-talkin' Idealized Blood Brother, and the flaws and red flags he does portray are not Seen due to the idealization and his incredibly short tenure.) In terms of narrative...Benny is the peer-addict Dean would hypocritically support compared to Sam's wholly unsupported stint as addict - this happens in so many families! I think of it as analogous to supporting an illness with lip service in church or by doing time and donations to your local soup kitchen, but you don't have sympathy for it within your own home or family. For Dean, this is subconscious. And for Sam, it's a symbolic sore spot: you enable his addiction but you judged mine. Anyway, Benny is so zeroed in on his own fatalism, that he had already decided deep down that they'd both die. They're both damned. It's tragic for them both, but it's especially tragic for Andrea.

“Never marry a man you haven’t already divorced,” she said. - Linda Carroll

///

Better to be a fond memory than a constant, festering disappointment, eh Andrea? I wish we'd gotten to see Andrea reigning over Purgatory, if I'm honest. I'd have liked to see her grapple with everything.

///

DEAN: You ever fall off the wagon and feed?

BENNY: Some questions you just don't wanna ask, brother.

#tw misogyny #misogyny #benny crit #just to be safe #i wanted andrea kormos to be ruling purgatory in season 15 #anyway the stuff with andrea always bothered me #i've struggled to out it into words but she def gets whore-ified #i hated benny's speech to her soooooo muuuuch #i just wish they'd brought it full circle with a restoration of andrea for contrast even in season 15! #it would have been such a good twist #and a great parallel to boot #more narrative calling out of benny's dismissal of andrea would have elevated his character nicely to more fleshed out imho