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zepskies · 7 months

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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):

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winchestergifs · 1 year

Photo

STACKEDNATURAL ⇉ 77/327

2.6 No Exit Written by Matt Witten Directed by Kim Manners Original Air Date: Nov 2, 2006

422 notes · View notes

arcanespillo · 6 months

Text

The Sins of the Father, Merlin S2E8

Defending Your Life, Supernatural S7E04

84 notes · View notes

rowyn-writes · 7 months

Text

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Five

Warnings: Self hate, mentions of abusive ex, mentions of a minor character death, fluff

Characters: Reader, Dean, Michael, Jo

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

You had been living with Dean for five weeks now, and everything felt surprisingly normal. You both woke up early in the morning for work, so you got to have breakfast together. You liked having someone to talk to before going to work.

It was five in the morning as you and Dean shuffled around the kitchen in a comfortable silence. You had made some eggs and bacon for the both of you while Dean got ready for work. Since Dean passed the coffee shop to get to work, he would drop you off, and in return, you made him coffee to get him ready for the day.

"Mornin' sweetheart." Dean grumbles as he comes out of his room, yawning. His hair was still tousled from sleep. You chuckle softly at the sight.

"Morning, Dean. Forget to brush your hair?" You snorted. Dean laughs as he smooths down his hair.

"Maybe I was trying out a new style, Y/n, ever think of that?" He sniffed, pretending to be mad.

"Aw, c'mon now, you never change up your routine, so I find that highly unlikely. And besides, you can't be mad at me forever, I made you breakfast." You set his plate down on the table, pouring a glass of orange juice for him.

"I got damn lucky to have you as a roommate." He sighed happily as he ruffles your hair before sitting down at the table, tucking into his breakfast.

"I could say the same." You smile as you eat with him. Storm was still asleep on the window seal. Despite Dean buying a cat bed for him to get into his good graces, the cat refused to actually sleep in the bed. He just sniffed at it before going back to what he was doing.

Once you and Dean were finished with breakfast, he took the plates and put them in the dishwasher, starting a load. You went and grabbed your apron for work before heading out the door with Dean, sliding into his beautiful Impala. "I hope you know that if I actually still drove, I'd totally wanna take Baby for a joyride." You joked.

Dean laughs softly, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. "You're more than welcome to drive her anytime you need, sweetheart. I won't stop you."

"Oh, um, nah." You shook your head gently. "I don't really drive anymore. I um, I got into a really bad car crash about a year ago and I don't really drive anymore because of it." It was the first time you had really talked about the car crash with anyone other than Jo or Jack.

"I'm sorry to hear about that sweetheart. Was everyone alright?" He frowns, looking over at you.

"Oh, um, yeah, I just had a broken arm. . . The other driver was okay too."

Dean could tell that you wanted to drop the subject. "So, I was thinking, you don't work tomorrow, right? And you're done with exams?"

"Yeah, why?" You tilt your head curiously.

"Well," Dean said as he pulled into the parking lot of Chuck's. "I was thinking that tonight we go to my favorite bar and have some drinks, my treat. They're having karaoke tonight too, and I think it would be a lot of fun."

You mulled it over for a moment. You didn't drink much, but you thought this would be a good chance to get to know Dean a little better and let loose some. "I think that'd be a lot of fun, actually." You give him a gentle smile.

"Perfect, I get off work tonight at 5. I'll pick you up and take you home on my lunch break, I don't want you walking home alone or anything." Dean gives you a boyish grin, the one that you had come to adore.

"Thanks, Dean, you have no idea how much I appreciate your kindness." And it was true. Dean was kind to you when it felt like you hit rock bottom. Being evicted from you apartment was rough, and you never expected him to offer his home up to you. Even though you hadn't known Dean long, you trusted him, and it seems that he trusted you. You hated to think about where you'd be without him right now.

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. I'm just glad I could help you out. I've been where you've been before. My life has never been put together in the slightest, and there was a time when I had no place to go. I really could have used some help, and I want to be that person for you." He said softly, looking over at you.

"Well, I know I'm not much, but I'm here, and I can be the support you need. We can help each other." You offer him a gentle smile.

"I like the sound of that, Y/n, thank you." You lean over and give him a quick hug.

"I'll see you on your lunch break, then. Let me go make your coffee really quick." You went in and unlocked the doors, making Dean a brown sugar latte and grabbed him a scone before bringing it out to him. "Have a good day at work." I reach through the window and ruffle his hair before heading back inside to tackle the day.

Jo was the next person scheduled to come in, and you hoped it was one of those rare days that she was actually on time. You had talked to her many times before about her punctuality, but it never seemed to stick with her. She was your best friend, and you didn't want to have to reprimand her, but it seemed that it was going to have to come to that. Thankfully, she was on time today, and you didn't have to say anything to her.

"Thank god my car started." She said as she walked in, clocking in on the computer. "I was scared she wasn't gonna crank. I really need a new car."

"Well, you're here, that's all that matters. Today's a Wednesday, so I'm expecting it to be a good day for us. This is usually our dead day, so I think it should be okay with just the two of us until eleven when Maddison comes in."

The day went off without a hitch, the customers were nice, it was a slow day, and everything seemed peaceful. That is, until the end of your shift. Dean was on his lunch break and he was waiting for you to clock out so he could take you home. He didn't mind hanging out in the coffee shop, as he found it rather peaceful. The front door dinged, signaling that there was a customer inside. "Hey, welcome to Chuck's! We'll be right w-" You broke off as you stared up at the man in front of you. Michael. You could feel your heart pounding out your chest as he glared down at you. You hadn't seen him in nearly two months, what made him want to come confront you now?

"We need to talk." He said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was 6'3 and he towered over you. It was something that had always intimidated you, especially when you were together.

"We have nothing to talk about. You need to leave." You tried to make your voice sound strong and determined, but it came out as just a small squeak. You hated the affect he had on you. For years he made you feel small, and even after the break up, he could still make you feel that way.

"Oh we have plenty to talk about, Y/n. Like how one day you just changed the locks to the apartment and had all of my stuff sitting out in the hall?"

"And you're just now wanting to talk about this, huh? You had nearly two months to reach out to me and to talk about this, but you picked now as the prime opportunity? When I'm at work?"

"Oh please," He scoffed. "You can hardly call this a job. Besides, I've been busy with other things." Dean's head perked up at the sound of arguing. He looked over at you and Michael. He could clearly tell you were in distress.

"Michael, just fucking leave. You're not welcomed here. Our relationship is over and there's absolutely nothing for us to talk about. You cheated, you were abusive, you were a shitty ass boyfriend. What else do you want me to say? I've listed a billion reasons as to why we broke up and you still can't accept that."

"Don't speak to me like that." He grabbed your wrist. "I guess I better teach you some manners." You try to pull away from his grasp. Before you could even shout for help, a fist connected with Michael's jaw.

Dean looked pissed as he grabbed Michael by the shirt, slamming him against the wall. "What kind of pathetic coward lays hands on a woman?" He growled as he punched him again. "Come near Y/n ever again, and I swear to God himself, there will not be anything stopping me from beating you within an inch of your sad life. Got it?!"

You had never seen Dean so angry before, let alone get physical with someone. "And what's it to you, huh?! Why the hell do you care for some whore so much? Oh, I get it, you're fucking her, huh?" Michael laughed, throwing his head back.

Dean said nothing in return as he punched him once more before throwing him out to door. "Don't ever come near her again." Dean snarled before going to check on you. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he? I swear to God-"

"Dean. . ." You hugged him tightly. "I'm okay, he didn't hurt me. . . Thank you for sticking up for me." You whisper, tears in your eyes. Maddison and Jo watched as Dean wrapped his arms around you protectively.

"No one's going to hurt my best girl on my watch, I promise you that." He said lowly, gently rubbing your back. "I'm guessing he's your ex boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he is. . . I thought I was finally free of him, but he keeps popping back up like an infectious disease." You were holding back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Dean.

"C'mon sweetheart, let's get out of here." He wrapped his arm around you and led you out to his car. "Do you need me to stay with you? I can tell Bobby something came up."

You shook your head gently. "No, that's okay. . . I don't want to impose. I'll be okay until you get off work tonight. . . Honestly, I don't even what to think about what just happened. And it doesn't even surprise me that he came here. I guess I was just hoping he'd forget about me." You ramble on, looking at your hands.

"You wouldn't be imposing, sugar." He said, his voice soft and gentle. "If you need me, I'm here, okay? There's not much goin' on at the shop today, so Bobby can afford to be on his own for the rest of the day."

You felt tears brim your eyes as you kept looking at your hands, refusing to look Dean in the eye. "I-I could use some company. . . If t-that's okay." You whispered quietly. Dean tilts your head up gently with his finger so you would look at him.

"I'll stay with you as long as you need, darlin'." He then surprised you by kissing your head. He was so caring and gentle with you, which was something you weren't used to. He drove back to the house, letting you pick the music for the drive. Once you got back, he called Bobby and explained the situation before following you inside. He grabbed some blankets and popped some popcorn. "So, what movie should we watch? Comedy, rom-com, action?"

"You really don't have to do this for me, Dean. . ." You felt like a burden. You made Dean call out of work just so he could sit here and watch a movie with you. You were an awful friend and roommate.

"You're right, I don't have to, but I want to. . . You're my best friend, Y/n, I want to make sure that you're okay. You've had a stressful day, and you need to unwind a bit. Plus, work was slow, wasn't much for me to do. I'd much rather sit here with my favorite girl and cheer her up." He sits down beside you, draping his arm on the back of the couch.

You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you let the tears flow. "I-I just want to be rid of him. He never let's me have any peace."

"Shh," Dean whispered softly, running his fingers through your hair. "I'm here sweetheart. . . He won't hurt you as long as I'm around, okay?" He kissed your head again, making you feel comfort. Storm jumped up on the couch, settling himself in your lap, purring softly. "See, darlin'? Even Storm's here to help you." That made the tears stream down your face harder. It felt like you couldn't breathe. Everything that you had held in from the break up came bursting out all at once, despite your attempts at pushing it down. Dean held you in his arms as you cried. "Breathe, Y/n, I need you to breathe for me, okay?" He murmured gently. You tried to breathe, but it just came out as choked sobs. Your body was shaking as you cried. Dean let you know that he was here, and that you were safe. You knew he was right. Being in his arms was the safest place for you. You knew that Dean would never hurt you, and that he would do everything in his power to protect you.

Once you had calmed down, you found your voice. "Thank you for being here." Your voice was raw and hoarse from crying. Dean didn't mention it, he just smiled softly, kissing your temple.

"Of course, sweetheart. What are friends for?" He continued to run his fingers through your hair, as he could tell that's what was keeping you grounded. "We don't have to go out tonight, we can go some other time, I'm sure that you're tired after the day you've had."

You thought it over for a moment. "Actually, I think I still want to go out tonight. . . I just need to feel normal, and show that what he did doesn't get to me." You state confidently.

Dean grins at your confidence. "That's my girl." He let you get ready for your night out with him. You picked a pair faded ripped jeans from your draw, a black blouse, and a black leather jacket. You combed through your hair, trying to find a style you liked, eventually settling on having it braided. You came out of your room with a smile. Dean let out a low whistle as he saw you.

"You clean up nicely, darlin'." He grins. He was wearing a green flannel over a black shirt that fit him nicely and a pair of faded blue jeans. You couldn't help but smile at the compliment.

"Thanks, De. Shall we get going?" You grab you wallet as Dean grabs his keys.

"Let's go." He smiles, resting a hand on the small of your back as he leads you out the door. You were very aware of his hand against your back. But you shouldn't be thinking about that. Dean was your friend and roommate. You couldn't risk anything. You slid into the Impala as Dean going into the drivers seat. You grinned as the car roared to life. The car was absolutely gorgeous, and you'd love to have an old car like this. That is, if you still drove. Past pains rear its ugly head into your thoughts, making you think of things you wish you could forget. You push it aside. Tonight was about having fun with your best friend.

You showed the bouncer your ID and you were let into the bar with Dean. It was packed since it was karaoke night. You and Dean slid up to the bar, you ordered your favorite drink and Dean got a whiskey and coke. "So, ya thinking about gettin' up there and singing?" Dean smirked as he looked to you.

"Me? Nah, I can't really sing." You shrugged.

"One, that's bullshit. I hear you singing in the shower all the time and you sound amazing. And two, no one who sings karaoke can sing. I'll do it with you if you sing." He offered you up a smile. You could never resist that boyish smile he had.

"I hate you, I hope you know that." Despite your words, you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

"Say what you want sweetheart. But hey, you get to pick the song and I can't complain."

"Oh really?" You smirked. "So if I picked a Taylor Swift song, you wouldn't say anything?"

"Hey, I can get down with TSwizzle, okay?" Dean held up his hands in defense. You couldn't help the laughter that racked through your body.

"You did not just say TSwizzle-" You continued to laugh, Dean joining in.

"All I'm sayin' is that you can pick whatever song you like."

You went up to the karaoke machine, scrolling through until you found the perfect duet for you two. I Remember Everything by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. "We're up next." You grin as you pull Dean towards the stage. Dean followed you up on stage, grabbing the mic. "Ready?" Dean nods as the song starts. Despite having never heard the song, he did it justice. You never knew Dean could sing. When you sang your parts together, Dean smiled over at you, his eyes gleaming. Once the song was over, he helped you down from the stage.

"Y/n, you were amazing! I knew you had a good voice, but damn, that was beautiful." He praised you, gently patting your shoulder.

"Me? Dean, I had no idea you could sing like that. You were fantastic!" You gently punch his shoulder.

Dean chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck as the tip of his ears turn pink. "Thank you, sweetheart, I appreciate it." He grinned.

"Aaand I think that some of the girls over there found your singing attractive." You chuckled as you looked over to a group of girls that were eyeballing Dean. "You should go talk to them!" You encouraged.

"Nah," He shook his head. "This night is about you and me, and celebrating our friendship." He gave you a smile. You couldn't help the small butterflies you felt in your stomach. Instead of going off with a girl, he wanted to spend time with you. But at the same time, you felt bad, because you felt like you were keeping him from having a fun time.

You felt like screaming at yourself, because you always did this. Every time there was something good going in your life, you found a way to get in your head and overthink things. You wished you could turn those voices in your head off. Sometimes those voices got particularly loud, especially in times like these. You tried to push them away and have a good time with Dean, but you couldn't help it.

"You okay, Y/n? You got really quiet all of a sudden." Dean said softly. Damnit, he knew you too well.

"Oh, yeah, it's um, it's just been a long day, y'know?" You cleared your throat, looking up at him.

"We can head home if you'd like?" He suggested, tilting his head to the side.

"No no, I'd hate to be a bother. You look like you're having so much fun, and I don't want to ruin that." You spoke softly.

"Sweetheart, if you're tired or you just don't feel up to being here anymore, you can tell me. I won't be upset. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or feel like you have to stay for my sake. Besides, I don't care where we are, as long as we're together, I'm happy to spend time with you."

You gave him a soft smile. "I just don't think I'm in the right headspace right now." You sighed. "It's just been a long day with a lot going on. . . I promise to make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it, Y/n, we can just spend some time together and watch a movie if you'd like?"

"I'd really like that, De. . . Thank you." You whispered gently. Dean ruffled your hair and went to pay for the tab. You rode home in a comfortable silence as Dean hummed along to the radio. You were stuck in your own head again, per usual. You were leaned against the window, feeling the cool glass on your cheek.

"Are you sure everything's alright, sweetheart?" He asked, looking over to you. "You've been awfully quiet."

"I dunno, I'm just really struggling mentally today. After everything that happened this afternoon, I just feel so. . . empty?"

"I get it darlin'. What do you need? Do you need some time by yourself, or do you wanna curl up on the couch with me and watch some Dr. Sexy MD?" He questioned, his voice gentle.

"I think that spending some time with you could help. . ." You couldn't help but smile. You felt safe with Dean, and even though you were having a tough time, you knew that everything was going to be okay as long as you were with him.

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take-it-on-the-run · 1 month

Text

Castiel Playlist

"I cared about the whole world because of you."

A/N: Could also be interpreted as 'Being in Love With Castiel'

Eye In The Sky // The Alan Parsons Project

I am the eye in the sky; looking at you; I can read your mind

Little Dark Age // MGMT

Forgiving who you are, for what you stand to gain; just know that if you hide, it doesn't go away

Bigmouth Strikes Again // The Smiths

And I've got no right to take my place to the human race

Wicked Game // Chris Isaak

I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you; I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you; no, I don't wanna fall in love; (this world is only gonna break your heart)

Young and Beautiful // Lana Del Rey

Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?

Eyes Without A Face // Billy Idol

Got no human grace; you're eyes without a face

Lies in the Eyes of Love // Part Time

No, it's not right; she tells me lies in the eyes of love

Oh Ana // Mother Mother

You are the angel that I couldn't kill

bitter love // Flowers in Antarctica

Our sinners vow, your cardinal sin; hold me tightly; sculpt me out of desire; I'm not bitter love

The Blackest Day // Lana Del Rey

Getting darker and darker; looking for love; in all the wrong places

Afraid // The Neighborhood

When I wake up, I'm afraid; somebody else might take my place

Francesca // Hozier

I would still be surprised I could find you; darlin', in any life; if I could hold you for a minute

Behind Blue Eyes // The Who

But my dreams, they aren't as empty; as my conscience seems to be; I have hours; only lonely; my love is vengeance that's never free

The Night We Met // Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you; some and now none of you; take me back to the night we met; I don't know what I'm supposed to do; haunted by the ghost of you

Memories Fade // Tears For Fears

Memories still fade but the scars still linger; goodbye my friend; will I ever love again?

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pickledpascal · 1 month

Text

Meat & Candy

Chef!Dean Winchester x Journalist!Castiel Novak

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Taglist open here !!!

Fic on AO3

Summary: Chef Dean Winchester is opening is brand new restaurant, Crossroads. However, before they open, he has been convinced by his Sous-Chef, Benny Laffite, and brother, Sam Winchester, to do an interview for the Chicago Tribune's food column.

The journalist for the food column just so happens to be Castiel Novak.

A/N: my first full length destiel fic.... this is so fun i love stealing movies and putting my favorite characters into them. this VERY loosely based off chef (that's it, that's the title of the movie) and some other chef type movies ive seen. this concept has been in my head for a while so, y'know, thought I'd share it with the world finally.

General Warnings: dean is still a very sad man (😞), swearing, implied/also explicit mentions of abuse and child neglect, food as a metaphor for love, romance, trans male character (dean), dealing with single parenthood, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of chicago specific things.

ONE. TWO. THERE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX.

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i-need-you-cas-i-love-you-dean · 1 year

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Dean Winchester got to go to heaven right? And Cas didn’t.

But you know who he got to see in his heaven? Sammy. And how much you wanna bet that jo was there too. And while yes dean saw her as a sister….

It kills him because Cas isn’t there and he doesn’t get the opportunity to be like “Jo, meet Cas.” And jo wont be able to laugh and be like “you’re the reason why I lost out,” and Dean will be like “oh shut up,” and Jo wouldn’t even be mad. She’d laugh and smile because for once…. Dean Winchester is truly happy.

But no. We don’t get that.

#supernatural #supernatural funny #supernatural family #spn cast #spnfandom #spnfamily #spn fanfic #spn spoilers #sam and dean #sam winchester #dean x castiel #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #Cas #jo #jo harvelle #ellen harvelle

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destielblamscilesinfinity · 1 month

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Sam x Jo song of the day.

#sam x jo #sam winchester #jo harvelle #jo winchester #supernatural #spn #Spotify

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spnhunter4life · 8 months

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New Story Teaser

As you may or may not know, I'm currently working on a pretty big new fic. It's the kind of idea that I would love to read if I saw a book (or series) with this kind of plotline. I don't know how long it will end up being (not a full book length I'm sure; there's no way I'll get enough smaller scenes in for that) and definitely don't expect it to be on the level of a published book, but I am doing my best to make it as similar to an actual full length book as I can.

That being said, I'm hitting a slow spot right now so I'm just putting this out there as a bit of motivation for myself. I'll feel more pressured to write if I feel like people are waiting for something from me. Anyway, here's a summary of my still untitled fic. I hope it looks interesting to you guys! Please let me know what you think!

(Also, side note: I'm going to be needing a beta for this eventually. I'd even take two or three if that many people would want to. I'm not in any hurry to find one as I have a ways to go still, but if you think you might be interested, send me a message!)

Juliette is on the run. Her whole life turned upside down when she trusted the wrong person with her biggest secret, and now she's just trying to survive. When two strangers come crashing into her life, she couldn't have predicted how much things were about to change again. All of a sudden, things that shouldn't be possible are real and she finds herself fighting not just for her own safety, but for the safety of the new family she's made. Maybe even the whole world.

Set in a world of shifters (no ABO) and featuring a variety of beloved Supernatural characters.

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lost-between-letters · 2 years

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Characters I write for:

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Castiel

Gabriel

Jack Kline

Crowley

Charlie Bradbury

Jo Harvelle

Stranger Things

Jonathan Byers

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Argyle

Nancy Wheeler

Robin Buckley

Marvel

Peter Parker

Eddie Brock/Venom

Enola Holmes

Tewkesbury

Wednesday

Wednesday Addams

Enid Sinclair

Tyler Galpin

Ajax Petropolus

The Raven Cycle

Richard Gansey III

Ronan Lynch

Adam Parrish

Noah Czerny

Blue Sargent

Henry Cheng

Crossed out names are the ones I do not currently write for

More fandoms and characters to be added

#sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #castiel x reader #gabriel x reader #jack kline x reader #jo harvelle x reader #charlie bradbury x reader #jonathan byers x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #robin buckley x reader #gansey x reader #noah czerny x reader #blue sargent x reader #adam parrish x reader #ronan lynch x reader #henry cheng x reader

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zepskies · 4 months

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Smoke Eater - Part 17

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

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

AN: Ready for some feels? ❤️‍🩹

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,500 Tags/Warnings: Angst, injuries, hurt/comfort and feels, tinge of spice.~

Part 17: “The Real Deal”

The first time Dean was awake for longer than a few minutes, he asked about you.

Sam wasn’t surprised. He was frankly relieved that he had an answer for his brother.

“She has carbon monoxide poisoning,” he said. Dean’s brows furrowed, but before he could start worrying too badly, Sam cut in again. “She’s okay. They’ve got her on 100% oxygen. Eileen and Andréa are with her right now.”

Dean nodded on a breath of relief, despite coughing himself. He still wore an oxygen mask, but he knew his exposure hadn’t been as bad as yours.

“CO poisoning’s no joke. Don’t let her take off that damn mask for anything until they clear her,” he said.

Sam raised a placating hand. “Don’t worry. She knows she’s got to stay put this time.”

Dean shook his head. You were so damn stubborn. He still couldn’t believe you’d dragged yourself out of bed within minutes of waking up, just to see him.

…Well, he could believe it, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Okay, do you need anything before Eileen and I run home to get you guys some stuff?” Sam asked.

He’d already drawn up a list for both you and Dean of things you two would need for the next couple of days in the hospital. Dean’s stay would likely be longer than yours.

“Nah, I’m good, man,” Dean replied.

He was still trying to find a comfortable position in bed. His back couldn’t fully touch the mattress, so he had to lie on one side or the other. Truth be told, it sucked. His head swam with the effects of the painkillers and antibiotics they were pumping him with, along with his head injury.

While his body wanted to keep sleeping, Dean wanted to see you. He wanted to make sure you were all right. He wanted to know what happened before the fire, and how you’d found out about Nick being Azazel’s son.

And he wanted to get you both home.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to get to do any of those things, any time soon.

Sam saw his discomfort and frowned in sympathy. He went over to help Dean shift onto his other side. Dean shot him a look of annoyance, but Sam was firm.

“Let me help, or I’m calling Nurse Jeff,” he warned.

Dean's lips pursed. Jeff was nice and all, but Dean could concede this time. At least when it was his brother helping him, he didn’t feel like a complete invalid.

“Andréa’s gonna stay with her?” Dean asked, while Sam helped him ease over and nodded at his question.

“Yeah. Ellen and Jo are on the way too. They’ll keep you company.”

Dean wanted to quip that he didn’t need a babysitter, but he held it in. It would be nice to see Ellen. He remembered seeing his father, briefly, before he fell back asleep. Sam told him John had gone back to the precinct to work out their protective detail, once you and Dean were eventually discharged from the hospital.

Over the last few hours, the rest of his team from Firehouse 25 had come in to see him in small groups, including Benny, Gordon, and Jack, Meg and Chuck, and Bobby himself, with his gruff worrying. Dean knew the Chief felt responsible anytime his firefighters got hurt, but Dean also knew the only one to blame was himself.

Still, he didn’t regret breaking ranks to go and find you. He’d never regret that choice.

Sam’s hand on his shoulder grounded Dean back into reality.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” said Sam.

Dean nodded, with a hint of a smile. “All right, Sasquatch. Get goin’ then.”

Sam’s face betrayed his dry amusement…and a hint of fondness. He squeezed the shoulder he held, and hesitated, almost like he was steadying himself before he left his brother alone.

“Hey,” Dean said. He gave his little brother a true smile, if one edged with tiredness. “I’m okay. I don’t break easy.”

After a moment, Sam nodded. His lips flickered at a smile.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, clearing his throat. Before they both might’ve succumbed to a dreaded “chick flick moment,” as Dean called them, there was a knock at the door. Ellen’s head soon peeked through into the hospital room. She smiled as soon as her gaze landed on Sam and Dean.

“There’s my boys,” she said. Sam welcomed her in, along with Jo, before he slipped out. The Harvelles brought food, of course, for you and Dean. And Ellen had bought some flowers.

Dean took off his oxygen mask and teased her a little. “Ooh, for me? You shouldn’t have.”

Ellen shook her head at his familiar antics. Jo came up on his other side of his bed and gave him a softer smile than usual. He tried to return it.

“These are for your girl,” said Ellen. “How’s she doin’? Have you been able to see her?”

Dean’s good humor dimmed. “She’s got carbon monoxide poisoning from the fire, but Sam tells me she’s resting. I haven’t been able to get over there yet.”

Ellen frowned, but she nodded and rubbed his arm. “Okay, well you just stay here and rest. I’ll go over and bring these to her, make sure she’s doing all right. Then I’ll come back and give you a full report. How’s that?”

Dean met her gaze with relief and gratefulness in his. “Thanks, Ellen.”

She nodded, giving him a motherly pat on the cheek. Maybe her brown eyes welled up with tears she would refuse to shed. And maybe Dean pretended he didn’t see them, knowing how she’d hate for him to call her out.

“You two are gonna be just fine,” she said. Dean agreed with a nod and a smile. She left soon after with the flowers, discreetly wiping at her face.

When the door shut behind her, Jo took a seat beside his bed. She was looking around at the wires, the monitors, the minor burns and scrapes on his face, while trying not to look at the gauze spanning his upper back.

“How’re you really feeling?” she asked eventually, when she was able to meet his gaze.

Dean chuckled a little. “Like shit.”

She laughed too, though it soon ended in tears. She bit her lip against it, with her eyes squeezing shut.

Dean faltered. “Hey, none a’ that.”

It was an effort, but he reached for her shoulder. She clasped his hand there, then she held it between both of hers. Dean squeezed her hands.

“I’m okay. Scouts honor,” he said. He wished he didn’t have to keep telling people that, but here they were.

When she drew his hand against her cheek though, Dean internally sighed. He had to pull away.

Jo felt the loss of his hand, and of him. She looked up at him with sad blue eyes. Dean couldn’t answer her. Or at least, he couldn’t give her the one she wanted.

She ducked her head and tried not to cry harder.

“Jo,” Dean sighed. “Listen to me.”

She wiped at her face and managed to look up at him again. He was direct, but still gentle as he could be.

“You know I love you like family,” he said, “but you also know…I can’t be that guy for you.”

Her brows furrowed as she shook her head. “We had something, Dean.”

“We did,” he acknowledged. He could admit that much, even as he blew out a breath. “I fucked it up.”

At that, Jo’s face shifted towards resignation. “I did my fair share.”

“You were worried about me on the job, that’s all.”

“But you also didn’t fight for me. The second it got hard, you left and called it quits.”

“I know,” Dean admitted. He thought hard, and he nodded. He was a different man when he and Jo began. He hadn’t totally figured out what it was he wanted. He’d just known, instinctively, that it was different with her. He’d wanted to try to be more for her.

But, he’d let Ellen’s warnings and his own fears take over. He knew he’d been a coward, and at the time, he’d convinced himself that Jo was better off without that in her life. He knew now how that had just been a nice justification for breaking her heart.

“I know,” he repeated. “I guess I wasn’t ready for the real deal…but you’re the first one who made me want to try.”

Jo heaved a tremulous sigh, laced with tears that she brushed away from her face. She had already known it, deep down, but now she supposed she had closure. She knew now that he loved you, for real.

“And she’s the one who made it stick,” Jo supplied.

“Yeah,” Dean said. The truth was in his eyes. She’s the one.

After a moment, in which Jo locked away the rest of her heartbreak and denied herself a flash of jealousy, she wiped her face dry and looked up at Dean.

“Then you rest up,” she said, with a small smile and red-rimmed eyes. “And whatever happens next, you better fight for her.”

Dean smiled back. He gestured at his prone form with a hand.

“And what do you think I’m doing here?”

“Looks to me like you’re sitting on your ass,” she quipped.

Dean laughed so hard he started coughing. Jo shook her head and helped him put his oxygen mask back on.

“God, you’re a mess,” she said.

Dean gave her a mock incredulous look. “Hey, no sympathy for the injured here?”

“If it was sympathy you wanted, you should’ve kept the mask on.”

Hours later, Sam and Eileen came back freshly showered and with plenty of clothes and necessities for you and Dean. And when his hospital room door opened, Dean fought through the haze of the drugs and his swimming head to wake up. He smiled at Eileen, who stepped through the door first. But then his eyes widened.

Sam carefully guided you in a wheelchair, with your oxygen tank rolling in next to you. You held the mask to your face, but Dean still spotted the edge of your smile.

Your eyes shone bright with unshed tears the closer you came. He had to clear his throat himself before he reached for your hand at the same time you held out for his.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean replied. He brought your hand to his lips and held it there. “How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay, thanks to you,” you said, smiling, even though your voice shook. Tears slipped down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, and your face ducked down. “I’m so…so sorry.”

Dean frowned and squeezed your hand. “Don’t you do that. This isn’t on you.”

You shook your head, like you didn’t believe him. Or you didn’t want to believe.

He wasn’t having that.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. He tugged on your hand, until finally you did as he said. Your eyes were red and spilling over with tears. It made his heart clench, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Sam holding Eileen close. Both of them were getting emotional, though Sam was trying not to.

Jo stood with her mother in the corner. While Ellen dabbed at her eyes, Jo had to avert her gaze. That part, Dean didn't notice, because his lips pressed together as he returned his attention back to you.

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” he said. “I’ll shake this in a few weeks. Tops.”

You nodded, but your denial was still obvious as your shoulders trembled. He could see there was no reasoning with you on this one, so he just tugged you closer—as close as you could get without leaving your wheelchair or taking off your oxygen mask.

He managed to reach for your face, soothing his thumb across your tear-stained cheek. You covered his hand and kept him there, for as long as he was able.

You were discharged from the hospital a couple of days later. It was a few more before Dean was able to join you. He wasn’t happy to learn that his head injury would put him out of commission for at least one to three months.

You wished he would be more fair to himself. He’d suffered a subdural hematoma after he was struck by the beam. The doctor officially labelled it a TBI, or a concussion, and he was already dealing with headaches and bouts of vertigo.

Not to mention the large second-degree burn that was only just starting to heal across his upper back. The doctor also warned that he might suffer some mood swings, due to the head injury.

Meanwhile, you were starting to recover from your cuts and yellowing bruises. Though the carbon monoxide had been driven out of your system, you still had your own headaches, nausea, and a lingering cough.

You both were a bit of a mess. Sam and Eileen had incredible patience, and you were so grateful for their help in those first days back home in Sam and Dean’s apartment. However, you couldn’t shake off your nature to help as much as you could in taking care of Dean while Sam and Eileen were back at work.

You knew your boyfriend wasn’t used to being catered to. He didn’t like being, what he deemed in his mind, “useless.” In your mind, that was just too damn bad. He was going to be cared for whether he liked it or not.

So you helped Dean adjust where he lied in bed for the third time this morning, arranging the pillows just so. All while you ignored his crabby mood.

“How’s that?” you asked, fluffing one more pillow between the small of his back and the headboard. You’d managed to find a way for him to sit up without his upper back touching the bedframe.

“Fine,” he said grumpily. He was channel surfing on the TV above his dresser. “And it was fine half an hour ago.”

His mood was always dour after a shower; it meant you had to help him stand, and make sure he didn’t kill himself by slipping and falling. You sighed and brushed your fingers through his wet hair, mindful of the shaved and bandaged portion on the back of his head. He sure was an awful patient.

“You used to like it when I joined you in the shower,” you tried to tease gently. He shot you a glance.

“Yeah, that was before I could barely piss standing up,” he replied. You rubbed his arm.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be like this. You’ll be healed up in a couple of months, and we can put this behind us,” you said. If he really wanted you not to feel guilty about his current state, then he was doing a bang-up job.

Dean turned to you then, and you understood the look on his face. Will it really be over?

You couldn’t fault him for it because you didn’t know the answer either. You both knew that Savage & Co. burning down was likely just another battle with Azazel, not the end of the war.

And that was when John and Cas arrived for a visit, with the doorbell interrupting the silence. It was the first time they’d come together, and that told you one thing: this was more than a familial check-in.

You welcomed them into the apartment and made some coffee for everyone. Cas helped you get the mugs ready in the kitchen. Meanwhile, it gave John a moment with his son.

John dragged a desk chair over and sat by Dean’s side of the bed.

“How’s your head?” John asked.

Dean nodded, though his face said he wished people would stop asking him that.

“On the mend,” he replied instead.

John nodded in return. The space between them was awkward and quiet, except for the drone of the TV. Both men had their protective walls and their thoughts, but neither one was able to lower their guard.

When you and Cas came into the room with fresh coffee, it was a silent relief all around. You sat beside Dean in bed and handed him a mug of decaf. You might’ve claimed it was the real stuff, but Dean’s nose knew the difference; he didn’t play when it came to his coffee. Yet another reason why he hated being on these antibiotics.

“So, let’s start from the beginning,” John said. He lowered his mug into his lap and looked straight at you. “What happened before the fire? Start from the very top of the day.”

You took in a deep breath and glanced at both Cas and Dean. Cas seemed encouraging, while Dean looked just as grave and interested as his father.

You explained everything from the moment Marv came to give you his report, intended for Nick. You were going to just leave it with his assistant, but his office door had been open a crack, and you’d heard the voices within. You’d been curious enough to approach the door and listen in.

You recounted what you’d heard between Nick and the other man.

“We’re working together on this,” said Nick. “Keep an eye on the cop. Wait for an opportunity.”

“Together, huh? Azazel has his orders. You trying to take his place?” the other man replied. His voice was thin and nasal. You saw his profile, however. His eyes were dangerous.

Your eyes widened at the implications of his words though. Azazel?!

“Dad agrees with me. The guy’s not getting the hint, so we’ll need to remind him who really makes the rules,” Nick said.

Your eyes widened. Holy shit…Nick’s father is Azazel.

You clasped a hand over your mouth before the gasp could escape. A sharp breath still echoed through the hall. The men’s heads began to turn, but you did as well—away from the door and booking it down the hall as quietly and quickly as you could.

You remembered going back to your office, just to find Nick Savage waiting for you.

Dean’s grip on the bedsheets tightened when you told that part of the story. You tried to spare the details, but there were some things you couldn’t avoid…

A strong hand grabbed you and hefted you up. You felt a trickle of wetness rolling down the side of your face as you stared up into his. It must’ve been blood, but all you could focus on was the satisfaction in Nick’s eyes. Finally, they seemed to say.

But then he paused. Confusion was written across his face.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asked. You both saw it climbing under the door of your office.

It was a distraction that broke you out of your frozen fear.

On pure instinct, you jabbed at Nick’s ribs with your taser.

“After I…managed to get out of my office, that’s when I saw the smoke,” you said. Your voice became a tad more unsteady as the memories flit through your mind.

“It was chaos. People were getting trampled trying to get down the stairs…and when we saw the fire coming from below too, I barely made it out of the stairwell.”

You raised a slightly trembling hand to your mouth, but a warm hand slipped into yours, taking it from you. You met Dean’s furrowed brows and softened eyes.

“Come ‘ere,” he said quietly. You let him pull you towards him, against his side, and you blinked past the sting of tears.

“The rest you guys know,” you continued. “I couldn’t get out. Dean and his guys came and found me. He got hurt trying to get us out of there.”

Dean’s hand rubbed up and down your arm in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead while you wiped at the few tears that managed to escape.

“Did you see Nick at all after what happened in the office?” John asked.

You shook your head. “No. I hope he burned to a damn crisp.”

“He’s officially missing, but his body hasn’t yet been identified from the remains at the building site,” said Cas.

That sobered you. You knew there were many people who hadn’t made it out of the building in time. You just couldn’t fathom the kind of person who would intentionally set that fire, damn the costs.

“What about the other man he was talking to?” John asked. You shook your head, but you provided a detailed description of him, from what you could remember: tall and lean, graying short hair, a nasal sounding voice.

“Any other details you can remember? Anything at all. Could be something you saw or heard, or even smelled,” John pressed.

Your lips pursed. The stress alone of reliving all of this was giving you a headache, not to mention making your chest feel tight. Your reply was a bit more clipped than you intended.

“What, other than the part where I was fighting for my life?” you said. “I think I gave a pretty good statement of the events, Detective.”

John paused. His mouth firmed, but he watched you with more sympathetic eyes. Dean saw that his father was trying to ease up. He rubbed your back in comfort again.

“All right, it’s okay,” said Dean. “You did good.”

You glanced at him and took a small, steadying breath. You relaxed a bit and met John’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you said, with sincerity. “If I remember something else, I’ll let you know.”

John nodded.

“That’s all right. We’ve got enough to arrest Nick Savage on assault charges, once we find him.” He shared a brief look with Cas. “In the meantime, we’ve got a couple of guys stationed outside the apartment building here. They’ll keep an eye on things.”

You and Dean nodded; it was a relief, but also disconcerting to know the police were watching you. A chime on your phone soon distracted you though. You reached over for where it lay on your nightstand and read the reminder notification. You turned to Dean.

“Ready for your pain meds?” you asked him. You saw the answer in the tightness around his tired eyes. You rubbed a soothing hand on his thigh. “You should eat something first though. Want some of the soup Eileen made?”

Dean shrugged, making an unenthusiastic sound. Your head tilted as you considered him. Then, an idea struck you.

“Ooh, I could make you a grilled cheese on the side,” you offered in a tempting tone. Your leading smile was just enough to get Dean to smile back, if more reserved.

“Hmm?” you prompted. “Come on, three different cheeses on some buttery bread…”

His smile became more genuine. “Okay, sounds good.”

You nodded and pat his thigh once more. You looked up at the detectives.

“You guys want lunch?” you asked. John started to shake his head, but Dean cut in.

“Trust me, you want to get in on this,” he said. The promise of your cooking managed to cut through some of the haze of his pain and discomfort.

Cas conceded first, with a nod. Though he got up from where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed.

“I’ll help,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. He soon followed you downstairs into the kitchen.

Again, it left father and son glancing at one another in silence. John was leaning elbows on his knees, hands folded. His lips drew upwards as he looked up at his oldest.

“Want some advice from an old man?” he asked.

“What’s that?” Dean replied.

John nodded, quirking a smile. “Hold onto that girl.”

A couple of weeks later, however, tensions were still running high. Dean was frustrated with his own inability, worsening with each bout of vertigo, and every time the pain in his skull necessitated a pill to cope with it. Part of it was also that he needed so much of your help when Sam was at work.

Every time Dean saw you cooking, cleaning, changing his bandages, reminding him to take his meds, helping him get around when he was feeling off…

He was grateful, more than you knew. He just couldn’t feel right about letting you do it all when he saw how tired you were. You were still healing up too. And he could only imagine how stressed you were after everything you’d been through in the past few weeks. Hell, in the past few months.

He felt guilty, and useless, and angry at how you’d gotten caught up in all this, and at Nick Savage and Azazel and everything in between.

So Dean now stewed in all of this while he sat watching mindless reruns of some dumbass show about fake ghost hunters, even though he was trying not to think of anything at all. Somehow he had nothing to do but think, even though the meds he was taking often made him want to crawl into bed and sleep.

You appeared from down the hall, looking and smelling like your nice floral soap after a shower, wearing nothing more than one of his old shirts. Your thighs were bare. Your hair was twisted up on top of your head, just asking to be taken down with a practiced hand.

Dean liked the look of you.

Not that I can do anything about it, came a dull reminder.

You came around the couch with a roll of gauze and a medicated cream for his burns.

“Okay, Dean. Let’s go ahead and change the bandages,” you said, nodding at his back.

He was reluctant to move. He was finally somewhat comfortable sitting in the corner of the couch with a shit ton of pillows propped against his lower back. And he hadn’t told you this, but a headache had been building for the last hour. He’d been trying to wean himself off the pain meds.

“It can wait until Sam gets home,” he said. “Why don’t you relax? Take a nap or something.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Sam works late every night. Doesn’t it make more sense to get it over with now?”

“You see it would, if you hadn’t already done it yesterday,” Dean replied, with a dry edge to his tone.

You arched a brow at him. You'd re-bandaged the burn across his back yesterday morning. It was now late afternoon.

“The doctor said once a day,” you said. “You want to get an infection?”

The back of Dean’s head pulsed with pain. He gritted his teeth in trying to ignore it.

“You want to get off my back? Literally?” he snarked.

You frowned at him and set down the medical supplies. Your hands went to your hips as you looked down at him.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude,” you said. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I get that, but you don’t have to take care of me right now,” he said. “You can just let me watch this shitty-ass show in peace.”

Your brows knitted together. Both of you were stubborn, if in different flavors. You tried to come at it with a gentler approach, drawing near him to set a hand on his shoulder.

“I know it’s unpleasant, but you can’t change your bandages by yourself,” you said. Your thumb swept along his neck. You really hated seeing him in so much discomfort. “Don’t you want to get it over with so you can relax for the rest of the day?”

A sharper pain pulsed behind his eyes for a moment, making Dean take in a deeper breath through his nose. He could later admit, he lost patience with you (and his temper).

He turned off the TV and tossed down the remote.

“What is this compulsive need you have to control everything? Do everything?” he snapped. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t need you to wipe my ass! Just give it a goddamn rest!”

Irritation was hot under his skin…until he actually looked up at your face. The open-mouthed look of shock, and hurt, your eyes welling up with tears as your hand fell away from his shoulder…

That’s when Dean knew this concussion was fucking with him.

There was no way he could be this much of an asshole, could he?

“Shit. Baby,” he tried, but you shook your head at him, making a negative sound when he reached for you. You walked away from him.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Hold on!”

His first attempt to get off the couch was unsuccessful, and it made his head swim. He grimaced in annoyance, but he used the couch and the coffee table as leverage and pushed through onto his feet.

Once he knew he was steady, he thought he heard you in the kitchen. He found you there, trying to hide your face behind the open door of the pantry while you cried. It broke his heart, really.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. His hand rested on your back, prompting you to look up at him with red, watery eyes.

“What now?” you asked. “Want to yell at me some more?”

Dean’s sad frown deepened as he tugged you closer, guiding you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I don’t know where the hell that came from.”

Maybe the knife stabbing through the back of your head, 'cause you're too stubborn to take all your damn meds, came the dry edge of his conscience.

You held onto him as tightly as you dared while you pressed your tear-stained face into his chest.

“That wasn’t you, Dean,” you said. “I get that you’re in pain, and that you're frustrated, but you don’t have to white-knuckle it. Or take it out on me, for that matter.”

“…I know,” he agreed, laying a kiss on your forehead. “If it happens again, I give you full permission to slap me. Concussion be damned.”

You snorted at that, despite a couple more tears slipping down your cheeks. You wiped them away.

“I know I was being a bit pushy,” you said, with a sigh. “But Sam does work late. I’d feel like shit just lying around here waiting for him to help you. And I’m the reason this all happened anyway, so I might as well—”

“Wait. Stop,” Dean said. He pulled away so he could grasp your arms and look down at you. His brows furrowed, and his jaw worked. “What did you just say?”

You looked up at him, and he saw the vulnerability in your eyes. Your lips pressed together, and you averted your gaze.

“No,” he said, curling his fingers under your chin and lifting your face back up to his. He didn’t like what he saw.

“Okay. Sit with me,” he said. He guided you to the dining table, where he pulled out both chairs. After you sat, he raised a waiting finger to you, just so he could grab his prescription from the kitchen counter and down what should've been his morning dose of pain medication with some water. Then he returned to the table and sat across from you.

By the time he got you to look at him again, your eyes were already filled with tears. He took your hands in both of his.

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault,” Dean said at last. He’d said it before, but apparently it hadn’t gotten through your head.

“You disobeyed a direct order to find me,” you argued.

“I would’ve gotten called to that fire no matter what,” Dean countered. Still, that didn’t seem to sway you.

“You don’t know what it was like,” you said. You squeezed his hands, and your voice shook. “When I saw you in the ICU…”

All those wires, the newly wrapped burns, the oxygen mask, his skin pale and clammy, and his eyes closed…

“Before you got to me, of course I was scared. For a minute there, I thought I was going to die,” you managed to say. His hold tightened on yours. “But in that room, it was…it was different. It was you, but it was also my grandfather all over again. And I was so damn afraid.”

After that confession, you crumbled once again.

Dean slid his chair forward and held you close. His fingers swept through your hair after taking down your haphazard bun. He managed to pull you into his lap and he shushed you gently.

He glanced up heavenward and actually asked George for the right thing to say to you right now, because he had no damn clue.

After a moment, he released a humorless chuckle.

“You wanna know fear?” he said. “When my dad told me what you’d found out about Nick. And when I got the call that the building was on fire, somehow, I knew you were still in there.”

His fingers brushed along the shallow cut above your brow that was still healing.

“You had to deal with that bastard by yourself. That alone pretty much kills me,” Dean admitted. “And if I hadn’t gotten to you when I did…I’ll never regret that. Ever. I’ll take the whole damn building on top of me if that’s what it takes.”

You leaned back and shook your head at him, but he took your chin between his fingers and stilled you.

“But I told you,” Dean said firmly. “I’m not leaving you.”

Your eyes met his before you let out a shaky breath. Maybe this time you would believe him.

He leaned down and kissed you soundly, so you’d get the idea. Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and you moaned when his tongue caressed yours. His hand tightened on your hip.

“Dean.” Your warning was gentle. The doctor hadn’t cleared this yet for him, and he knew it.

“Just a little bit,” he said, smiling against your lips. His hand slipped under your (his) shirt and teased the edge of your panties.

You sighed with conflicting need when you felt the pads of his fingers stroke you through the fabric. It also stroked your arousal back to life.

“Okay, bedroom,” you caved. “But go easy. I’m serious, Dean.”

He smirked and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be easy.”

AN: Lol trust Dean to push his limits there. 😅 We also got some closure on the Jo & Dean arc, some supportive Sam and Eileen, and some major feels.

In Part 18, Sam and John work together to try and pin down Nick and Daniel/Azazel, Law & Order style...

Next Time:

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charges are murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied.

Keep Reading: PART 18

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

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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kickingitwithkirk · 2 years

Text

A Lace Dress

Author: @kickingitwithkirk

Artist: @blindswandive

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Aoibheann Singer (OFC)

Rating: teen and up

Word Count: 5566

Summary: On the night of his 27 b-day and the expected announcement of his betrothal, Sam meets the woman who is his true Beta, only she cannot be his due to being branded an Omega for crimes her father, a former Pack Alpha, committed years ago. Her conviction is overturned but there are still persons creating obstacles during their courting and upcoming marriage when John Winchester finally realizes what’s happening and decides it’s time to put grievances to rest.

LINK TO FIC: AO3

LINK TO ART: LJ

*divider by @firefly-graphics

Sam stood just inside the open veranda doors, flannel-clad arms crossed, watching his family’s estate's expansive lawn transformed into an endless sea of white-clothed, elegantly set tables.

He’d have preferred going on that ghoul hunt with Caleb instead of being forced to participate in tonight’s festivities being held in his honor that he had zero interest in attending.

In his previous life, he would have celebrated his birthday with work colleagues from the firm that hired him after graduating from Stanford Law School, the one he was working hard at to make partner by this birthday.

But that life was no longer a possibility, his dreams of a normal life had evaporated the day his elder brother was expelled from their pack for falling for the wrong woman.

Upon his birth, Dean Winchester inherited the dual duties of training as a hunter and tutorials in becoming the next Pack Alpha of the Winchester clan. By the time he was twenty-six, Dean was one of the most proficient and feared hunters to have ever been produced by the Winchester bloodline.

But he had another side, one he didn’t publicly show, possessing one of the most compassionate hearts and would do whatever it took to protect those he loved. He was also a charmer when it came to the pursuit of the fairer sex, although Sam always found his pickup lines cheesy as fuck.

As was the custom in their pack, two days before his twenty-ninth birthday and arranged marriage to Beta Cassie Robinson, second eldest of the Morningstar Pack Alpha. Dean's packmates joined him on one last bachelor run and decided to stop at Harvell's Roadhouse which hunters from all packlands frequented.

Sam had been finishing up some last-minute things before heading home for the wedding when Caleb and Pastor Jim, his father’s second and pack's spiritual leader, appeared telling him what had occurred. Dean had returned home with Jo, a Beta he had mated and claimed, and all hell broke loose.

Sam lost his freedom that day and his parents were running his life.

Again.

Happy Fucking Birthday to me.

~~~

Without a courteous knock, Sam’s door suddenly opens, and Mary Campbell-Winchester enters.

“Samuel, you are the limit! You’ve been in here all day pouting like a teething pup. I know you’re still disappointed about giving up that job but really, it’s been almost three years.” Mary sighed, “I never understand why your father indulged your interests outside hunting. You’re a legacy, blessed by the goddess, inheriting her gifts of strength and intelligence from both sides of our bloodlines.”

Mary looked over her ginormous offspring, frowning at his hunter garb, “it’s almost time for your guests to arrive.”

“They’re your guests' mother,” Sam flatly said, knowing she would ignore him regardless watched her cross to his walk-in closet, “I’m capable of dressing myself,” returns carrying a tuxedo suit tailored explicitly for the formal celebration.

“As for marrying that girl,” Mary continued, “did you honestly believe it would have lasted? Jessica is a human after all and incapable of properly satisfying you as Ruby can.”

Sam shuttered at the mention of his expected-to-be betrothed name.

“Your father and I expect you to be downstairs, properly dressed, in forty minutes,” pausing to check her immaculate appearance in the wall mirror, “and do something with that overgrown mop you call hair,” once again chastising her youngest. “Honestly, you should try harder to emulate your father instead of going around resembling a Kitsune."

“Please tell me you’re fucking kidding Uncle Bobby!”

“Watch your language young lady.”

“I’m sorry Aunt Ellen but this..Alpha Winchester will take it as an insult to..”

“I’ve already talked to John and explained the situation, he understands our predicament and won’t take it that way, just present yourself at the end of the reception line and no one will notice.”

“Everyone will notice me sitting among the Packs tables and the gossip-mongering it’ll create! That our clan has fallen so far status since you took over and you have the gall..”

“I don’t give two shits, sorry Ellen, what others think about me but Jenny’s too sick to go.” Bobby sighed, “I know I’m asking a lot but there’s no one else of age who can take her place.”

“It’ll be fine sweetie,” Ellen said hugging Aoibheann, “but Aunt Ellen, I don’t have anything.”

“We’ll find you something and Jo can do your hair and makeup.”

“I’m not permitted to present myself above my status.”

“Hogs wallop,” Ellen said.

Aoibheann knocked on the cottages front door clenching a garment bag and trying to not hyperventilate when Jo greeted her smile quickly vanished, “get in here before you pass out cause there’s no way in hell I can lift your tall ass off the ground.”

She automatically complies with the order and followed Jo to the bath seating herself on the step stool that’s in the middle allowing Jo to more easily work around her noticing the variety of products and implants cluttering the counter.

“Do you use all that stuff?”

Jo laughs, “yep, what we women do to look good for our mates.”

“I didn’t mean to be so curious, it’s not like I’ll ever need them again.”

Jo placed her small hand on her stepcousin's shoulder, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Let me have the bag,” she took it and pulled out the dress hooking its hanger over the door pulled out the spaghetti strapped, chiffon A-line maxi dress took a moment to admire the soft white materials crocheted lace underneath the bust and overprint of pastel flowers with leaves in pinks, blues, grays, greens, and elegant herons in grey, black, and reds.

Jo turns it noticing some of the side seams had been hastily altered to reduce the torso, “Aunt Ellen did that, it’s too big.”

“No one’s gonna notice. It’s a lovely dress but it’s you who’s gonna be beautiful.”

Aoibheann hurried along the stone path with dress hem in one hand, grateful she didn’t need high heels with it, and a gift in the other stopped behind a hedge row of holly bushes just out sight watched as the trio of hosts greeted the last of the other Packs guests started to move but froze as a brief argument broke out when suddenly the largest Alpha was stomping by and abruptly stops an arm's length from the bush scenting the air starts looking around confused before shaken his head and changes directions disappearing around the manor house.

Unsure what to do, she peeked out and was spotted, “what are you doing lurking in those bushes? Come out immediately!” Following the command and keeping her head bowed Aoibheann approached the now angry duo.

“Who are you?” The Alpha's deep voice demanded, “I..I was sent by the Singer Packs Alpha.”

“Oh, my goddess..John, she’s an Omega! What was Bobby thinking, sending one of them? This is an insult not only to our son but to our entire clan! I knew it’d be a mistake when the others supported elevating a Beta to Pack Alpha status..”

“That’s enough Mary! I told Bobby it was fine to send her,” Mary gasped at her mate, “it couldn’t be helped. I had already instructed the event planner to set her a place in the back.”

“Oh, I thought that was a mistake, so I had them remove it.”

“You what?” John barked at his Beta, “when you said their only female Beta of age was ill, I assumed..”

“Begging you pardon Alpha,” Aoibheann respectfully said and John gave his permission for her to continue, “I know my being here is an insult to all the honorable Packs and I do not wish to be the cause of further discourse with your Beta,” she held out the elegantly wrapped gift, “Pack Alpha Singer requested I present the future Winchester Pack Alpha with this token of esteem, if you will kindly accept it in his stead, I will immediately leave.”

“I will gladly accept this offering from the Singer Pack on behalf of our future Pack Alpha.” John took the gift, “and allow me to apologize for the misunderstanding over your attendance. My Beta will see that oversight is corrected,” John pointedly said making Mary huff and marched off, her expensive heels clacking on the stone walkway.

John sighed, “don’t mind my Beta, she gets put out when things don’t go as she planned.” Reaching out John placed his index finger under her chin lifting the Omegas head.

“I remember you,” her eyes flicked up in surprise, “whenever I’d visit with my boys, all you pups would tear around Bobby’s salvage yard.” John smiled sadly at the memories.

“Alpha Dean,” the Omega paused when John’s eyes briefly flashed at the name, “forgive me. I know he wishes it could’ve ended differently.”

John’s expression saddened, “I do too.”

Sam grunted as he wriggled his much broader than at eighteen shoulders through a narrow gap in the railing catches his foot and lost his left shoe. Hopping on the other he stretched a long arm back through the hole to retrieve it when it slipped hitting the ground with a wet squish. With an aggravated huff Sam pulled off his other shoe tucking both socks in it.

Glancing up at the three-quarter full moon reminisces about the last time he’d been up here with Dean, splitting a bottle of their dad's best bourbon before Standford when the scent he’d caught earlier wafts on the gentle breeze again tickled at his memory but can’t put his finger of where he’d smelled it before.

They were his favorites of the autumnal season from childhood that to this day soothe his inner wolf took a deep breath; warm spices with a hint of caramelized apple felt an unpleasant, metallic aftertaste hit the back of his throat and made him gag.

Breathing shallowly, he trails it along the walkway behind Everblooming Arabian Jasmine Vines and comes upon the source.

A woman sitting on one of the shadowed stone benches is observing the soirée through a gap in the vines, so Sam slowly approached to not startle her. “Hello,” he softly says making her scramble off the bench caught a brief glimpse of terror-filled wide eyes before clasping her hands and bowing her head to him.

“Forgive me Alpha, I did not realize this was your domain.”

Sam’s brow furrowed confused at her strange remark, “this isn’t my domain. Please,” he gestured for her to retake her seat before sitting on the other end of, “I’m guessing you’re not much for big gatherings either?”

She didn’t answer so he dips his head to see her face, pleasant but plain features framed with thick, cinnamon-hued hair, her only feature that stood out signified she was of the Singer clan with eyes on the lighter side and a mouth a bit too wide.

If his inner wolf wasn’t doing somersaults, Sam would’ve easily passed her by.

”How’d you find your way up here?”

“A..friend told me.”

It took a while for the conversation to start flowing with her shyness slowly falling away for her enchanting personality shone through was enough for him to know that Ruby nor any of the other Betas his parents had pushed at him were the ones meant to be his Pack Beta when the old churches clock bonged the hour.

“I..I have to leave,” she said getting up, “I’ve stayed longer than I was supposed to.”

“Surely you can stay a bit longer Aoibheann?” Sam asks and she shook her head. “I know this is presumptuous, but will you honor me by accompanying me during the Packs tri-annual run tomorrow night?”

Aoibheann felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes focused on the jasmine blossoms over his shoulder.

“I..I’m sorry I won't be attending.”

“Why? You can’t disappear from me! I know you feel it too,” Sam reaches out grabbing her wrist making her flinch and curl in upon herself, “fuck, I’m sorry..I didn’t mean to..”

“I apologize for my unwarranted reaction Alpha; I was trained better.”

Sam frowned at her words not understanding what she meant decided to try again.

“Near Riverbend, there’s an ancient oak that crosses the river and about half a mile down the old path is a small clearing where the bluebells bloom. Meet me I will go to your Packs Alpha and do whatever he requires of me to secure you for my Beta but if you choose not to, I won’t ever bother you again.”

“I..I’ll consider your offer Alpha.”

Sam paused at the ancient fallen oak, turning his head to check if he’d been followed and hearing nothing hopped up and padded silently across trotted down the path occasionally raising his muzzle to sniff the air, hoping against hope came upon the clearing and saw Aoibheann seated at the base of the largest oak.

He eagerly crossed the field and laid down by her legs, his big hazel eyes gazing adoringly up at her and she slowly reached out and began running her fingers through his thick, chestnut fur making him rumble in happiness.

“I can’t stay long but I had to see you,” Sam sat up at the desolate tone in her voice, “I wanted to thank you for offering to court me but I am unable to accept.”

In a blink, Sam shifted making Aoibheann blush at his nakedness, “please tell me why, I know you feel it too, what is standing in the way? I promised I’d do whatever your Alpha asks of me.”

“I’m not permitted.”

“I don’t understand,” she hesitatingly asks in return, “you know about the Singer Packs last Alpha?” Sam nodded remembering.

It’d been all the gossip at his fourteenth birthday celebration. The Alpha embezzled from not only the pack but humans who’d been invested in the clan's business ventures then vanished before being brought to justice and was believed to have died.

“When it all came out his Beta couldn’t handle it let alone the thought of being demoted to Omega status,” her voice quieted, “she downed a lethal dose of a sleeping draught instead.”

Sam was well versed in human and Pack laws knew Omegas were once Alphas or Betas convicted of crimes committed by themselves or immediate family.

Those condemned to the status were sentenced to ten years of indentured servitude under the Pack Alpha of whose clan the crimes were committed, and silver beads were implanted in an ‘O’ symbol near the hip as punishment, signifying the individual's lowly status halted their ability to shift into wolf form also acted like chemical sterilization and left them sterile.

Aoibheann stood up and lifted her shirt's hem to reveal a raised, beaded circle just under the skin above her left hip bone. Sam reached out and lightly brushed his fingertips over the silver-tinted skin felt his fingertips burning and jerked back in shock.

“Afterwards, the Morningstar's Alpha was given custody of me.”

“Wait a minute, why were you sent there when the crime was perpetrated within your clan?”

“The Morningstar's second eldest was his mistress and they’d planned it together. Can you imagine what’d happen if it was made public that the once future Beta of the Winchester clan had been involved?” Sam’s jaw dropped in realization.

The Pack council, including his father, chose to cover up Cassie Robinson's crimes by committing another.

Sam didn’t know how long he’d been pacing along the woodland edge trying to work up the courage to walk across the water-worn stones in the bubbling brook near the cottage heard a door open and a very pretty, diminutive blonde Beta stepped out placing hands on her hips and yelled across the expanse.

“You have some balls to show your face here after all these fucking years!”

Sam was about to respond when he heard a distinctive tread and saw his brother appear from around the back wiping his grease-covered hands on a rag asked in a voice gravellier than the last time they spoke.

“Jo, who the hell are you yelling at?”

“Me.”

Dean’s chartreuse eyes widened in shock and Sam held his breath waiting to see how his brother, whom he hadn’t seen in four years, would react.

“Come up to the house,” was all he said turning towards the cottage.

~~~ The cottage was over a century old by its construction; the traditional thatched roof, gothic windows, and old hardwood flooring made it cozy and welcoming, nothing like Winchester Manor's vast halls and stone facade.

Sam glanced around again, unsure why his inner wolf kept expecting Aoibheann would appear.

“What’s with the look?”

Sam was startled out of his thoughts, “I was thinking how this place feels more like home than what we had growing up.”

“Hmm,” was all Dean said looking him over.

He’d seen pictures of Sam on the Pack's social media but was still having a hard time putting his once skinny as a green bean and bit to tall brother with the man sitting across from him, who now out massed their father.

Sam started squirming under his brother's scrutiny, feeling like that gawky kid again subconsciously stuck a finger in his mouth.

“See you still bite your cuticles,” Dean admonished, tipping his longneck at his hand, “yeah, guess some things haven’t changed.”

“You know after I left all I had was Baby then it hit me I had no clue how I was gonna provide for Jo. She talked me into seeing Bobby that night and I forced myself to swallow my pride to ask him for help. And you know what he said?”

“Stop acting like a damned ‘idjit, family don’t end in blood.”

Sam jumped having not sensed the man who’d been a second father to them enter stood up suddenly hesitant, “don’t you start boy,” Bobby admonished wrapping him in a hug, “damn, it’s good to see you Sam!”

Bobby took the offered longneck from him and sat down, “don’t sell yourself short Dean, the Pack gave you the same leg up we all got but you’re the one who’s put in the work to prove your worth.”

“Leg up?” Sam asked in his never-ending curious voice, “it’s an old tradition that everyone of age in this Pack provides a good or service for a newly mated couple. I offered Dean a job at my garage, Rufus procured some extra weapons for hunting, and so on.”

“I can’t take credit for this,” Dean waved his hand indicating the cottage, “it and the lands were gifted to us by your niece Bobby.”

“Whoa, that was a generous gift. What a minute, your niece..what was her name?”

Bobby shifted and glanced at Dean who rubbed the back of his neck.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Dean.”

“Better tell him,” Bobby said, “he’s not gonna give up until he knows everything.”

Dean got up walked over to a cabinet pulls out a bottle of bourbon and three glasses, “don’t know if you remember, you must've been six and dad was on a hunt, we spent the week with Bobby.”

Sam nodded, “I remember you always cheated playing hide and seek,” he huffed a laugh, “that’s how you did it, your wolf senses were presenting.”

“And how I knew when we left you were serious when you said one-day Aoibheann was gonna be your Beta.”

“You’re the one who told her about the balcony..how did you know I’d even go up there?”

“What don’t I know about you kid? Bobby wanted to be sure you still felt the same way as that six-year-old did before we gave her false hope.” He topped off his glass, “a while ago a crossroads demon named Crowley gave me the whereabouts of Aoibheann's father.”

‘Why would a demon do that?”

“Alpha Singer made a demon deal but when it came time to collect, he split, been living in a warded bunker that used to belong to some research organization called The Men of Letters. In exchange for us going in to get him, Crowley will let us bring him before the council. That’s where you come in, we need your knowledge of the law to properly present the evidence against Singer to get Aoibheann’s conviction overturned.”

“We know you’ve been hunting with Caleb,” Bobby added, “but this is gonna be a whole neither level. The man has had access to a respiratory of occult knowledge that’ll surpass anything we’ve known, figured you’d wanna join us on this hunt so you can finally claim your Beta.”

Dean slid the bottle towards him, “whatcha say little brother, ready to run with the big dogs?”

”Absofuckingloutly.”

One and half years later

“The dress is lovely but there is still something not right.” Mary Winchester, tapping one impeccably manicured fingernail against her chin, says to the head couturier of the bridal salon as she walks around the podium Aoibheann standing upon in a Cinderella-style wedding dress.

She gazed into one of the strategically placed mirrors allowing her to see the entire dress from different angles without needing to turn admiring the beautiful gown but something she would never choose, absurdly heavy with its satin material, copious beading all over the form-fitting bodice, and countless tulle underskirts for volume.

She had already found the dress, the one that would’ve perfectly fit her tall, slightly curvy frame and made her feel pretty and knew Sam would’ve loved its simple elegance.

Finally stopping Mary announces to everyone in earshot, “It won’t do, it is indecorous.”

Aoibheann knows it’s not the dress she’s referring to bit down on her tongue to stop the tears forming from the latest insult from her future mother-in-law.

“Oui, madam, I concur ‘es not aesthetically pleasing.” The couturier verbalizes what's been etched on Mary’s face since her youngest son, their clan's next Pack Alpha, announced he’d chosen to court the former Omega and on his last birthday, Sam formally asked Bobby, as Pack Alpha of the Singer clan, for his permission to take Aoibheann as his Beta and to publicly announce our betrothal.

Bobby had been shocked and deeply honored, normally the Alphas clan posted the bannes.

Seeing the look on Aoibheann face during what's supposed to be one of the happiest events of her engagement was the final straw for her adoptive aunt, Ellen Harvell-Singer.

“Are you insinuating that my niece is not good enough to be the Beta of Sam Fucking Winchester!” Ellen yelled as she shot off the couch not caring who was listening caused Mary’s eyes widened in shock at the outburst, people in polite society simply did not act like this in public.

Aoibheann could see in the mirror's reflection several people turning to watch the proceedings with rapt interest.

Great, she thought, more ammunition for them to gossip with, that's all I need right now.

They knew the truth about what had occurred but had no problem coming up with things to gossipmonger about.

“Aunt Ellen..”

“No! I’ve had enough of everyone thinking you're not good enough for this fucking clan!”

“No madam, I meant no disrespect!” The couturier turned crimson, scrambling to cover up her intentional insult before Ellen could say anymore. “I meant ‘es the dress color, ‘es too light for her skin tone, perhaps something in ivory or blush would suit better?”

“Absolutely not, the dress must be white! It represents the purity and fertility of the next Pack Alphas chosen Beta.” Mary states as if it was a commandment.

If Mary only knew the night of the official betrothal dinner after everyone retired to the formal living room for coffee and bonne bouche, Sam had snuck her off to the formal library and upon his mother’s highly prized antique Georgian table had her for dessert.

Aoibheann couldn’t suppress her grin at the memory.

“What are you grinning about, young lady?” Ellen snapped, turning her glare from the dressmaker.

“Nothing, it’s ironic that I have to wear white but I’m too white for white,” she looks over at Mary, “short of me dying my hair and getting a spray tan..”

The obscure suggestion brightens the Beta’s demeanor, “I know the perfect salon who can do it!” Aoibheann held up her hand, “you know it wouldn’t please Sam nor would he ask me to change.”

Mary purses her lips in a tight line.

“I am willing to wear white to uphold tradition, but it can’t be this,” gesturing at the gown, “and you have to bend a bit, it will have to be a more subtle shade.”

“Fine, but there cannot be any lace on the dress.”

Looking back at the mirror, Aoibheann reminded herself at the end of all this she would be with Sam caught a glimpse of Ruby Morningstar smirking before leaning towards her cousin Amelia whispering.

It's gonna be a long day.

Sipping on a glass of water and swallowing the migraine meds Aoibheann was relieved she had the foresight to book a private booth at Hanscum’s.

The constant headache she’d had since her betrothal was slightly more manageable with the restaurant's low lighting slumped down a bit to rest her head on the seat back shudders trying to block the memory of the dress selected.

It's so ostentatious, a haunt couture ball gown in, of course, an unflattering shade of white. Mary insisted with her extra height the dress will look stunning on the day.

The dress will be stunning..the bride's another story.

Aoibheann's phone vibrated sees it was her cousin Jo tapping the FaceTime icon,” you look like death warmed over.” Jo states, “mom said it was a complete shit show, sorry I couldn't be there today.”

She snorted. “Wish I could’ve missed it too; thought for a minute I was gonna have to hogtie Aunt Ellen before she jumped Mary and that salon bitch.”

“What can I start you off with today, we have a nice pinot noir.” The waiter inquired.

“I’ll have double bourbon and hold the rocks.”

The waiter returns with her drink, and she throws it back ordering another to go with her nonexistent lunch when Jo makes a face, “you shouldn't be drinking with those meds let alone on an empty stomach,” she admonishes. “So, what’s the damage? Mom said the dress is unbelievable.”

“Hang on a sec,” she texts a photo taken of the dress after flat out refusing to be photographed in it at the salon.

“HolyFuckingShit!” Jo’s voice bellows from the speakers drawing the attention of a nearby table whose occupants started whispering amongst themselves, “it's gonna fucking swallow you!”

“I look completely ridiculous! It’s been ordered with the smallest cup size possible since I don't have a tenth of the cleavage needed and I’ll still have to wear chicken cutlets! You should have heard what Mary said when I showed her the one I wanted.”

Jo fumes, “first, that sanctimonious bitch has the audacity to choose the bridesmaids, the venue, the flowers, the dinner menu..”

“..and don’t forget the cake.”

“You’d think she’d at least let you pick out your cake flavors! Now she shuts you down picking out your dress. What’s next?”

“Oh, that reminds me I forgot to tell you. Mary was ever so kind to inform us the other night she’s already booked where we’re going for our honeymoon.” Aoibheann dramatically sighs.

“It’s a beautiful, private tropical island in the Bahamas. Sam’s gonna love the snorkeling, sailing, hiking trails, and swimming in the hidden lagoons and I’ll be spending the day in our room, alone, with books for company since I’ll only be able to emerge at night considering how easy I burn.”

“Is the high and mighty Winchester Beta also planning on being in the room to instruct Sam on the proper way to knot you too?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her 'cause you know Mary is so keen on me, think how thrilled she’ll be if Sam can put pups in me.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry you're having to deal with all this. I know she’s doing it because Dean chose me.”

“Joanne Harvell-Singer Winchester don’t you dare blame yourself for any of this! It’s not your fault Dean’s father forced him to choose between being their Pack or his true mate!”

Aoibheann slammed back the rest of her drink, “fuck John Winchester and his fucking ultimatums. Dean loves you with every fiber of his being and never gonna regret his decision.”

She watches Jo tear up, running a hand over her swollen stomach, knowing she was thinking about how Dean gave up his entire life for her to be his Beta.

“Agh, fucking hormones! See what you have to look forward to when Sam knocks you up.”

Aoibheann smiles a bit sadly at her assumptions, thankful Jo missed her slip up, Sam and she chose not to tell anyone what the doctor found after her last check-up.

There’s still Adam to be the next Pack Alpha if I can’t give him any pups.

Jo wipes her eyes and holds up her latest ultrasound photo beaming. “We’re having twin girls, and would you believe Mr. Plaid Flannel is already planning on a pink nursery? Pink!!”

“Told you deep down he’s a Beta at heart.” Aoibheann teased knowing underneath that tough, cool exterior Dean Winchester had the biggest heart of any Alpha she’d ever met, including Sam.

“Shit!”

“What's wrong?”

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise, running into you.” Ruby Morningstar says in that saccharine sweet voice of hers as she stops by the table with two cousins-by-marriage, Lisa and Amelia.

A decade ago, Lisa had tried to snare Dean by claiming her son was a result of a sex-crazed weekend they had but Dean insisted it was impossible, swore he used protection.

There had been a scandal and tension between the clans until the paternity test he insisted on when Ben was born proved him right.

Amelia had been Sam’s fuck buddy for almost a year after breaking up with his human girlfriend Jessica, whom he’d planned on proposing to after he made partner.

Unbeknownst to both parties, John Winchester was seated in the booth behind them.

He already heard some of the things being said about Aoibheann when his son began expressing concern about how the clans' members were talking.

But John had dismissed it, saying it was something all Pack leaders endured came to a head during one council session a member insinuated something unrepeatable Sam unintentionally shifted, his inner wolf vehemently determined to protect his future mate.

John publicly admonished his son, telling Sam he’d better learn to control himself since he chose a woman with a scandalous past to be his Beta.

He wasn’t surprised at the unimaginative taunts but then Lisa mentioned Mary’s name repeating the outright vitriol she had apparently been expressing not only at the bridal salon but to the clan in general.

This was a breach of etiquette, and he was going to put a stop to his Betas interference and maligning of the bride-to-be, the first step in honoring the agreement he’d made with his sons.

“Dean this is crazy, where the hell are you taking me?”

Dean lifted on side of the noise canceling headphones and growled at his blindfolded brother, “will you stop asking me that, just put your Sasquatch hand back on my shoulder and keep following.”

Sam rumbled back but did as his brother asked walking behind him used his other senses to try and suss out where they were going. He could smell the river in the distance and the damp loam of the forest floor caught the subtle fragrance of flowers intermixing with the scent of warm spices with a hint of caramelized apple that always made his inner wolf rumble in contentment.

Dean abruptly stopped and gripped both his arms, maneuvering him to a specific spot removing the headphones and blindfold. Sam blinked a couple of times when his breath catches in his throat.

Standing in front of him amongst the bluebells was a radiant-looking Aoibheann, her thick tresses had flowers twined throughout, and was dressed in a fitted, off-white, lace dress with a sweetheart neckline and chapel train.

“Now you know why I had you put on the monkey suit,” Dean snarked felt Jo smack the back of his head, “hey!”

“This was John’s idea,” Aoibheann tells Sam, “he came to me apologizing for his part in the cover-up and said something about making amends by honoring his part of the deal and ordered us to have the wedding of our choice.”

She wrinkled her nose, “unfortunately, we still have to attend the reception Mary’s planned.”

Sam smiled at how adorable she looked, “since dad also agreed to make Adam the next Pack Alpha, I’ll be heading a nonpartisan group that will oversee the council rulings, so they won’t be able to railroad anyone ever again.”

“Take a look in your bouquet,” Dean says, and they find a key hidden amongst the flowers.

“Dad also arranged for you to have your place, it’s a cabin not far from here and the lands abutting the Singer packlands not far from us.”

Sam placed his arms around her, “Aoibheann Singer, are you ready to be my heart, my mate, my Beta, for the rest of our lives..even if it entails having to put up with my brother?”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3r @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

#sam winchester big bang 2022 #alpha!sam winchester #sam winchester #non traditional a/b/o #alpha sam winchester x ofc omega #dean winchester #alpha!dean winchester #jo harvelle #bobby singer #ellen harvelle #john winchester #mary winchester #spn #supernatural

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spn2006 · 8 months

Text

thinking abt how dean was attracted to jo half because she was so much like him and half because she was so much like sam

#also the parallels between ellen + jo and dean + sam #the way dean is literally sams father figure #makes me crazy #rambles #dean winchester #sam winchester #jo harvelle #samdean #wincest #jodean #deanjo #dean x jo #spn #supernatural

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inncorrectwincestquotes · 2 years

Text

Dean: I’m telling you I’m not into Sam I don’t have a crush on him

Jo: *smirking* I never said I was talking about Sam

Dean: I…uh…I that’s not fair!

#incorrect spn quotes #incorrect supernatural quotes #incorrect quotes #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #jo harvelle #spn #incorrect wincest quotes #samdean #wincest #deansam #sam x dean #dean x sam #supernatural crack #spn crack

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fandomoniumflurry · 2 years

Text

Keep Calm and Carry On Epilogue

catch up here

after years of waiting, the smutty fluffy finale is finally here! with a little angst and insecurities mingled in for good measure

Chestervelle

WC: 4264

taggers: @keepcalmimthecupcake @freakwiththeknifecollection

They all talked and laughed, spending the night catching up and relaxing. They were finally in a good place, all of them, at peace and at home. This was a makeshift family, dysfunctional in a lot of ways but perfect nonetheless. Dean and Jo were never far from each other. Standing in the kitchen, drinking in the library, sitting at the war room table. They were together now, it was clear, never to be apart again. Years of hardship, trials, and death brought them to this place. To happiness.

They found themselves acting like teenagers, holding hands, sitting in laps, sneaking kisses. This was an evening for the family but Jo was now part of the family more than ever. There was so much time to make up for and none of them wanted to part for the night. But once Jack called it a night, everyone else started to drop off as well. Sleep was more powerful than their wills. Well, besides Castiel who does who knows what when he’s not around.

Dean and Jo headed down the hall after Sam until the taller man ducked into his room, leaving the couple to stand in front of Dean’s door. “I don’t wanna assume…” The eldest Winchester rubbed the back of his neck, looking away bashfully.

“Never thought I’d see big bad Dean Winchester like this.” Jo wrapped her arms around his neck, her breath heavy with the whiskey they had been drinking.

“Like what? Nervous, awkward, stupid?”

Jo giggled, running her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. “Adorable.” They both grinned and kissed sloppily. “I want this. More than just your normal fling. If I walk in that room, this is for the long haul.” She had sobered up a bit, her words too important to be slurred. “If you want this to be /our/ room, you gotta say so now or I’m going back to my own.” His hands gripped her hips tightly at the threat. She yelped lightly at the sudden pressure but got what it meant. “Then I assume you want the same.” Afraid his lips would fail him, he simply nodded at her. “Good. Then open the door. I wanna get my cuddle on.” He rolled his eyes but released her to open the door.

It had always been room enough for him, adequately decorated to his tastes but he suddenly felt that it wasn’t fitting for the two of them now. Jo just made herself right at home, beginning to strip down without a care. He watched her dreamily, groggy from alcohol and drunk on love. She grabbed one of his shirts and put it on before climbing into his bed. It was one of the best sights he had ever seen. She was one of the wonders of his world and she was all his. Realizing he was still fully dressed, he began to change as Jo was quickly drifting off to sleep.

In just a pair of sweats, he crawled in behind her, forming himself against her back. She immediately clung to the arm that moved around her waist and entangled her legs with his. They were no longer two broken lonely people, they were whole. And that was how Dean got the best night sleep of his life. No nightmares, no tossing or turning, just peaceful slumber and dreams of the beautiful blonde in his arms.

The next morning however was not as pleasant, both waking up with a bit hungover from the night’s festivities. Even though both were awake, neither made any effort to get up, just continued to hold one another. Of course, that couldn’t last forever. The bang on the door caused them both to jump with a groan and they both chuckled at their reactions.

“Jack made breakfast if you lovebirds feel like joining the land of the living.” Sam’s voice pierced through the throbbing of their heads. “There’s coffee.” Perfect hangover cure, carbs and caffeine.

“Be out in a minute, brother.” Dean croaked before burying his face in Jo’s neck. She shivered in his grasp and when he planted a soft kiss against her warm flesh, she hummed. The sound went straight through him and seemed to rouse him more than coffee could.

He tested a theory, biting gently at the curver of her neck and shoulder and she actually moaned. His fingers splayed across her stomach before gripping the fabric of the shirt, trying desperately to keep his composure. He nibbled again and this time she pushed back into him. Suddenly not feeling sick at all, his hand moved under the shirt to feel the fiery skin beneath it. His calloused digits against her brought a gasp past her lips. She whispered his name as his hand moved farther up her stomach and over her breast. She whimpered as he teased her nipple til it ached, doing the same to the other as well.

She was grinding against him by now, her hand resting behind her on his hip. He continued to place tender kisses, licks and nips along her neck, driving her positively made with need. She had wanted this for so long, wanted to be like this with Dean, this close, this intimate, this in love. She had dreamed of it and she had it in her heavenly plain. But nothing compared to the real thing, the here and now. The way he played her like a fiddle, made her feel like he knew her body so well already.

She knew it was because he was experienced, far more than she was. He knew exactly what he was doing and she wasn’t sure why that bothered her. He was with her now. She knew she had his heart completely. Then why was it like a bucket of ice water as she thought about all the other women he had been with over the years.

He sensed the change in her mood and stopped what he was doing and just wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Dean’s voice was worried and it made her gut wrench. But before she could explain, the door opened and Jack filled the frame.

“I said knock, Jack!” Sam’s voice could be heard down the hall, clearly having heard the door open. Jack’s eyes were wide and filled with shame, silently apologizing. “Breakfast is ready.” He finally said before closing the door behind him. Dean and Jo relaxed and Dean squeezed her again.

“We better go before they send in Cas next time.” She chuckled uncomfortably and removed his arm like a blanket. She pulled on her pants but kept his shirt on and Dean smirked.

“You’re beautiful. She blushed at his words, pulling her blonde curls into a ponytail.

“And you’re still drunk.” She chuckled lightly but he shook his head.

“Only drunk on you.” His words made her swoon and she walked over to plant a sweet kiss to his lips.

“You’re so adorable.” She patted his cheek before grabbing his shirt and tossing it to him.

“Come on.” Dean grumbled. “Just a few more minutes.” He patted the bed next to him but he could see she was firm in her resolve. He groaned but crawled out of bed anyway, pulling the shirt over his head.

She took this moment to admire him. Tall and toned, sweats sitting low on his hips, his hair mussed with sleep. If anyone was beautiful, it was him. When he caught her staring, he came to rest his hands on her hips and his gruff voice cooed in her ear. “See something you like?” That smug grin played on his lips and with a giggle she shoved him back. Before issuing another word, she turned and walked out, grabbing his hand to pull him along as she went. He followed without complaint, squeezing her delicate digits within his grasp.

Three sets of eyes fell on them as they entered the kitchen and Jo felt suddenly warm from their gaze. Dean slung an arm over her shoulder and kissed her cheek. The public act of affection made Sam smile but the blonde didn't seem as pleased. She pulled away to grab a plate and took a seat next to Castiel. The angel looked questioningly toward Dean who seemed almost hurt but tried to play it cool.

"Bacon!" His attention turned toward the food and with no other option he took a seat next to Sam across from Cas.

They all started quietly on breakfast, Dean looking at Jo where the blonde was more interested in her food. The longer the two went on like this, the more hurt Dean looked and the sadder Jo seemed. Once breakfast was over, the group split up. Jo was the first to rush out, saying something about taking a shower. Dean hung back, grabbing Sam by the arm before he could walk out. “Can I talk to you?”

Sam nodded and turned back to Dean, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “What’s up with you and Jo?” The taller man questioned with a soft gaze.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about. She’s acting weird. I thought we were good. Then this morning…” Dean paused, unsure if he wanted to divulge too much information to his brother. “We were…good for a while…but then she just stopped…responding.” Hoping Sam was picking up on his meaning, he carried on. “Since then she’s been acting like I don’t even exist.”

“Dean, she’s been through a lot. Unlike you, she might just not be…ready.” His nose wrinkled slightly, giving away his discomfort.

“She seemed pretty ready.” Sam shook his head at Dean’s words, waving his hands to stop that train of thought.

“I’d say talk to her. You’ve got a lot more years and experience under your belt, Dean. She’s only been alive a year. She’s had to deal with a lot. She might just be overwhelmed. You’re…intimidating. I won’t pretend to know what she’s thinking but I’m guessing your…history isn’t exactly a turn-on.”

Dean hadn’t thought of it that way and realization dawned on him. “She probably thinks she is just another notch in my bedpost.”

“She knows you love her. She’s just probably feeling a bit inadequate.” Sam added with a tilt of his head. “She’s still pretty young, remember?”

All this time, Dean neglected to think about how young she truly was. They had spent so much time together and he considered her his equal. Age didn’t matter. But physically she was still just in her 20s where he was pushing 40. “I’m a cradle robber.” That caused Sam to chuckle.

“She’s not /that/ young. Clearly she doesn’t think you’re too old either.”

“She’s not like the other girls, Sammy. She’s more to me than sex. She’s…everything.”

Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and smiled. “Then tell her that.” Dean nodded in response giving his little brother a quick hug.

Unsure how long she would be, Dean took this time to get dressed. He was sitting and the end of the bed when she walked in with a towel in her hair. She jumped with a start and he smiled sheepishly. “Hi.”

“Can we talk?”

Her smile formed slowly on her lips. “Hey.”

Her stomach dropped at his question. That was never a good way to start out a conversation. She tried to play it off, pulling the towel off her head and running her fingers through her damp locks. “Sure. What about?”

“This morning. When we were uh, in bed.” Just as she suspected. She heaved a sigh and came to stand in front of him. Instinctively, he brought his hands to her hips and pulled her between his legs.

“Sorry I ruined the mood. Just had some stuff on my mind.” She stated meekly.

“Like what?” He asked and she cast her eyes down. Not having that, he tucked his finger under her chin and made her look at him. “If we want this to work, you gotta talk to me.” He knew that much about relationships, something he had learned with Sam.

She searched his eyes, lost in green pools of genuine care and concern. She rested her hands on his biceps, stroking slowly over his plaid shirt. “It’s silly really. I feel stupid about it.” He brought his arms around her, bringing her closer as he looked up at her with patience. “I’m not…I mean…I don’t…” He kissed her softly to soothe her fears and urge her on but he didn’t say anything. “You’re a lot more experienced than I am. You’ve been with so many women and I've been with two.” His eyes grew at her confession. “Shut up. I was too hung up on you.” This brought back his smug grin. “I’m nowhere near as good in bed as you or any of the other women you’ve been with. I want to be able to please you and I feel like you know so much more than I do, you already know my body better than I do and God, I feel like a child talking about this.” After her ramble was done, she hid her face in her hands, nearly crying from the shame.

Taking a moment to process, he blinked at her a few times before sighing. He pulled her hands from her face and placed them flat against his chest. “You feel that?” It took a moment for Jo to understand. “You have one thing that all those other women didn’t have. My heart.” A tear slid down her face. “I don’t care about your experience. I care about the love we share. That is far more powerful than any meaningless trist I’ve had in the past. You’re my everything, Joanna Beth Harvelle and I love you.”

Hearing him say the actual words sent her shooting toward him, colliding into his lips with a kiss so fierce, it tried to express every ounce of love she held for him. He clung to her dearly trying to keep up with the hunger of the kiss and giving back everything he could. All her fear and doubt was gone and she confidently climbed into his lap. She scratched through his hair as she pushed her tongue past his lips. He gladly accepted the intrusion, meeting her tongue with his own, lips vibrating with a quiet groan. The sound made her pull ever so gently on his hair which in turn caused a louder groan. She smiled against his lips before pulling back to admire the flush of his cheeks.

“I love you, Dean Winchester.” The sparkle in his eyes made her heart flutter and with a push against his chest she got him on his back. She leaned down over him, her kisses softer and more loving as his hands moved up her sides. Calloused fingers pushed up the fabric of her shirt, dragging roughly over smooth, warm skin sending shivers down her spine.

With a simple roll of her hips, she made the infamous Dean Winchester turn to mush. He grabbed at her flesh, wanting to feel every inch of her pale skin. She sat up to pull her shirt over her head before returning to his lips. Dean carried the kisses down her neck to find that spot he had that morning, sucking a mark and making her moan. His large hands splayed over her bare back, his fingers deftly unhooking the bra that got in his way. The shivers were wracking her body and she was clawing at his scalp and neck. He groaned as he sat up enough to suck a nipple between his lips. Her head fell back as eyes closed in bliss. He watched her as he tongued at the sensitive bud, chest rumbling with groans.

She pushed his face against her chest and his teeth grazed over her skin sending more thrills through her body. He moved his mouth to offer the other breast the same treatment. Lips parted, she smiled through the rush of pleasure from the light scratch of his stubble. She was so glad he had decided not to shave. She pushed him back again, his lips letting go of her with a pop. She climbed off of him and giggled at the pout on his face as he propped up on his elbows. Her eyes seemed to assure him that she would be back.

She popped the button on his jeans agonizingly slowly and Dean could feel each tooth of his zipper come aprt. One of her hands dragged down his thigh at the same speed as her hand at his crotch. Finally, she grabbed at the waist and he lifted to allow her to pull off his pants completely. Dean took this time to shed out of his outer shirt, giving Jo time to rid herself of her own jeans. They were clearly hating the distance and reached for each other, lips finding each other again.

He scooted them farther up the bed and she straddled his hips. Panties against boxers, she rolled her hips again. A cursed passed Dean’s lips as he squeezed her thighs. Every one of his touches left goosebumps and lit a fire within her. Her hands moved to rest on either side of his head. Locking her eyes with his. Damp waves of blonde hair curtained around them as they breathed the same air. She began to rock against him, dry humping the solid bulge within his shorts.

She was driving him crazy. If she kept it up like this, he would cum embarrassingly quick. “Jo.” He breathed her name out in a moan, hands landing on her ass to stop her menstruations. Gribbing the globes of her backside tightly, he flipped her onto her back, grooving himself between her legs which she wrapped around him. If she could have, she would have ripped the t-shirt off his chest so to calm her resentment, he pulled it over his head and threw it. Her exposed neck and chest were showered in kisses and kitten licks. She clawed at his shoulders and chest leaving red marks behind as he left his own marks on her skin.

Making his way down her stomach, his thumbs hitched under the waist of her underwear and began to pull them down her hips. She uncurled herself from around him so he could remove them and toss them aside. Now completely nude beneath him, he hummed in appreciation before kissing the inside of her thighs.”So beautiful.” He purred, his tongue swiping to lick his hungry lips.

Eyes dilated with lust and love, Jo watched as he licked up her slit and drew circles around the hidden nub of nerves. Her moans were louder now as a hand moved to grab a fistful of his hair. It was then that he dove in like a man starved and began to pleasure her in ways she didn’t know were possible. He sucked and licked her right to the edge which was much too quickly. And once she had hit that first climax, he lapped up every bit of it greedily.

“Dean. Need…” She mewed, reaching for him through panting breaths. As he climbed up her body, he rid himself of his boxers, finally leaving him fully exposed to her. She trembled at the sight of his erection and her pussy constricted around nothing. “Need you, Dean.” she managed to whisper.

"What do you need, baby?" His hands cupped her ribcage, thumbs tucked underneath her heaving breasts.

“Need you inside me.” She squeezed his firm biceps, her hips lifting in search of his cock. She was strung out and desperate for him and the sight of her made Dean growl. Not one to deny such a request, a hand moved to slip a few fingers through her slick. He then gripped himself and spread the natural lubricant along his shaft. She trembled in anticipation, her legs spreading to welcome him.

He teased at first, sliding the tip against her clit, eliciting a moan from them both. “How bad do you need it?” His voice was so low and gruff with lust that Jo clenched around nothing.

“I ache for it.” She replied breathlessly. His eyes closed to relish the answer before he slowly pushed inside her. Jo’s breath caught in her rising chest and Dean paused. She was already tightening around the head of his dick making it hard to focus. She relaxed a little allowing him to slide in further. It was slow but it was worth every said as they joined together.

When he was finally sheathed inside her, her walls tight and pulsing around him, he pulled out again. This time when he pushed back in it wasn’t as slow and easy. It was the first thrust of a myriad of pistoning thrusts. She could only hold on for the ride, lifting to dig her heels into his ass and her arms squeezed around his neck, keeping as close to him as they could manage.

“You feel so good.” His words came in between thrusts and he kissed her sloppily.

“Harder.” She cried loudly in reply. “More!” With all he could muster, he followed her command, snapping his hips hard and as fast as he could. A sheen of sweat made him glisten in the dim light of the room and Jo’s mouth hung open in adoration and pleasure. She grabbed his face and kept their eyes locked. “Cum for me, Dean. Cum inside me.”

His eyes almost turned black from his lust. It took a few more strokes before Jo erupted around him with a scream of his name. And a few more off tempo snaps and Dean was exploding right along with her. He collapsed on top of her without thinking, enveloping her in his wet warmth. Her body trembled with the aftershocks as his dick continued to throb and soften within her. She could feel languid kisses against her neck and shoulder and she closed her eyes, satiated and content. They laid like that for a while without a word, just holding each other, kissing, touching, coming down from their high.

“I love you.” The words were tired and slurred but they were clear and Jo smiled. She loved hearing him say it.

“I love you.” She repeated, kissing the side of his face.

Five Years Later:

“Let’s get a move on. The fish aren’t gonna catch themselves!” Dean clapped his hands with impatience as the rest seemed to just scramble around aimlessly.

“The fish aren’t going anywhere, princess.” Jo snipped with that same old sass. Her hand rested on her stomach as she waddled across the war room. She was carrying a picnic basket in her other arm and she was wearing a light green dress that clearly showed off her eight month belly.

“You don’t even like fish, Dean.” Sam stated with a chuckle as a little blonde headed girl kicked at his shoulders.

Dean just gave each of them a blank stare and an exasperated sigh. “Besides the point! It’s all about the time spent fishing! Ellie needs to learn how to fish before she’s three. And this is the last time we can go before Johnny’s born!” He started to get whiney, just wanting his family to get out the door already. The Impala was packed and ready to go, all that was left was getting his wife, daughter, and brother into it.

Jo came up and planted a kiss on his lips. “We have all the time in the world, Baby.” He smiled with all the love sparkling in his eyes.

“I hope we have forever.” He responded by kissing her again but slower this time.

“Daddy kissy mommy!” The toddler sung with a giggle as she hugged the top of her uncle’s head. “Sammy gonna kissy Eilee?” She asked the tall man who simply chuckled with a blush.

Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction and before slinging an arm over Jo’s shoulder, he looked over his little family and smiled. This was his life and he couldn’t believe it. Married with kids, with a real job going on a real vacation. There was never a happier man.

#chestervelle #keep calm and carry on #dean x jo #deanjo #dean winchester x jo harvelle #dean winchester #jo harvelle #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #supernatural #spn #mickey writes

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