#But at the end of the day Puppy-Wes loves curling up next to Sam on the couch for a good snuggle and petting.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

Sam is the embodiment of:

"When-he's-a-total-fucking-idiot-but-you-love-him-anyway."

[peachy-rambles]

Peachy xir,,, can we please get some fluff?? As a treat?? We need the serotonin. the happy brain juice if u will.

Fluff as per requested! I hope you like Michael because I was in the mood to write him UwU

---

Michael loved his grandparents!

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should call them his Elders, to show them respect. But he liked grandparents better!)

Grandpa Phil and Grandpa Techno were the best!

They visited him a lot when his dads were busy, so Michael wasn't always alone. Usually when they visited, they brought him lots of gifts and Michael's dads even let him go outside with his grandparents sometimes! He always had lots of fun with them and he loved them so much.

Michael was still learning Common and mostly knew Piglin, so sometimes it was hard to talk to other people, including his dads. But Grandpa Phil and Techno both knew Piglin! Phil couldn't speak it ("He has the wrong vocal chords," Grandpa Techno had told Michael), but he understood it and would listen to Michael babble in Piglin. He'd nod along and talk with him in Common. But Grandpa Techno knew Piglin AND could speak it! It was so easy to talk to Grandpa Techno and Michael loved hearing Techno tell him stories in Piglin.

Both his grandparents had lots of great stories! Sometimes they told him about an ancient Empire they once ruled together, sometimes they told him about adventures they had before their Empire or sometimes adventures they had by themselves. (He didn't like those stories as much. He liked it better when they told him stories when they were with each other.)

Michael learned that Grandpa Phil was really good at making clothes. He usually had some new clothes for Michael when he visited and had even made a little red cloak for him that looked just like Grandpa Techno's! The gold eyepatch Michael wore outside sometimes to cover his missing eye had been made by Phil too. Michael loved all the clothes Grandpa Phil made him, they were always so warm and comfy, and perfect.

Grandpa Techno always had lots of gold for Michael. The first piece of gold he'd ever given Michael was one of many gold rings Techno used to wear on his fingers. It had been the first time Michael had met him (it hadn't been the first time they met, it was just the first time Michael remembered) and Michael had been sitting in Techno's lap, fascinated by the gold rings Techno wore.

Before Grandpa Techno had left, he'd taken off one of the rings (the one with a small white diamond inlaid in it) and slipped it onto Michael's small wrist.

Michael had been so overjoyed because somehow he knew exactly what Techno's gift meant - that Techno had accepted Michael as his family, that Michael was a part of his Sounder and that Techno was a part of Michael's.

Techno brought Michael lots more gold after that, but the ring was still Michael's favorite and he treasured it.

One time when his grandparents came over, Grandpa Techno was holding a small blanket in his arms and Michael could smell an unfamiliar scent coming off of it.

Techno had kneeled down to show Michael the blanket and in it, a small white face had peered back at Michael.

It was a baby polar bear.

Michael had never seen an animal like it before and was fascinated by the small cub. He spent the day being supervised by his dads and grandparents, playing with the cub and by the end of the day, he'd fallen asleep with it curled up by his side.

He got to keep the polar bear and named it "Mimi".

While Michael loved when his grandparents visited him, and all the gifts they gave him, his favorite thing to do with them was go outside.

His dads didn't trust the outside world, had warned them that it was dangerous and there were scary people who wanted to hurt him. But they knew they couldn't keep Michael inside forever and would sometimes take him out for walks. But they were usually busy most of the time, so sometimes when his grandparents visited, they'd buddle him up in his warm winter clothes and take him outside into Snowchester.

Mimi would always come with them, attached on a lead that Techno or Michael would hold onto. They'd play in the snow, running around and making snowmen. Grandpa Phil even started a snowball fight once when he threw a snowball at Grandpa Techno. Michael had lots of fun that day and laughed as they all threw snowballs at each other.

A few times his grandparents brought him outside of Snowchester, to see the rest of the land.

Michael will never forget the first time they all stepped through a Nether portal and into the Nether.

It was so pretty and amazing, and the place felt strangely familiar to Michael! But they didn't stay there long, walking to another portal to bring them to his grandparents home.

He liked his grandparents home. There were a lot more animals there that Michael got to see and he got to play with all of their dogs. He even got to see some puppies that had just been born and hold one!

His grandparents had lots of cool stuff and so many books inside their house. Michael still couldn't read Common yet, but Grandpa Phil gifted him a few of their books and promised to read them with him back at Michael's house.

(Grandpa Techno had slipped in a book he said was called the Princess Bride and that it was his favorite, but that Michaeal could not tell anyone. Michaeal nodded vigorously and promised, just as long as Techno promised to read it to him.)

His grandparents also showed Michael their weapons and equipment while Michael was at their home. Grandpa Techno even showed Michael all the different types of swords he'd made himself.

"Will you make me a sword when I get older?" Michael asked him.

"No," Grandpa Techno had said and laughed when Michael pouted, "I'll teach you how to make your own sword. Every Piglin gets taught at some point in their lives how to make their own weapons."

Michael did in fact, already have his own gold sword back home, but it was very old and not usable. His dads told him that he had it when they found him, but Michael doesn't remember how he got it or why.

Michael doesn't remember anything before his dads, actually.

His dads told him that he was really sick dead, he'd been a lifeless zombie and just an empty husk when they found him, and was for a long time. But Grandpa Techno gave his dads a special golden apple that made Michael all better. Michael still only had one eye and one ear, but the rest of him was fine. He wasn't sick at all anymore and was really healthy.

He couldn't remember anything from when he was sick or anything before then, but that was ok, it didn't bother him. His dads and grandparents assured him it was fine and he believed them.

He was happy - he had his dads, his chicken and Mimi, he had his Uncle Tommy and Aunt Niki, and he had his grandparents! He was happy with his family - his Sounder - and that's all he cared about.

But he did miss his grandparents because they hadn't visited him in a while. He started to get worried and even Mimi sensed it, getting anxious and pacing around the house most days. His dads didn't tell him anything, not even when he asked where his grandparents were.

But then, one day they showed back up!

They looked...a little different. They were wearing their armor and had their weapons on them, they even had a few bags with them. They took their armor off and put their weapons away when they came inside, and Michael saw that Grandpa Techno had a new scar on his face, with bandages on his arms. When Michael asked if he was ok, Grandpa Techno just shrugged and said he got into a bad fight with a mean "authoritative" Creeper.

Michael spent the day inside with his grandparents. He would've preferred to go outside, but he hadnt seen them in so long that he was happy just to be with them.

Grandpa Phil cooked them dinner while Grandpa Techno let Michael tell him about all the things he'd missed while he was gone. He kept talking even during dinner and didn't touch his food much, too excited to eat. His grandparents didn't seemed to mind and listened to him with a smile on their faces.

After dinner, they all huddled up in Michael's bed, Phil holding Michael and Techno holding both of them as Techno read the Princess Bride to them. They all ended up falling asleep like that and that's how Ranboo and Tubbo found them when they got back home.

"Michael's going to be really happy when he finds out they're going to be living here," Ranboo said, smiling at them.

"I know. That's why I agreed to let them stay here until things die down," Tubbo commented with his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't exactly happy with the situation, but he knew it was the best considering the circumstances. Afterall, why would Sam or Quackity look for their escaped prisoner in Snowchester of all places? Especially since it was known that Techno and Tubbo were enemies.

They weren't, but no one outside of their family needed to know that.

Because they were all a family now - a Sounder, in Piglin terms - and looked out for each other, would protect each other where their past families hadn't. They wouldn't fail like before and would stick together.

(Michael was, in fact, overjoyed when he found out the next morning that his grandparents would be living with him from now on. The adults all smiled at him as he ran around the room in excitement, completely unaware as to the true reasons to this change. He was simply content that he wouldn't be alone in the house anymore and would spend lots more time with some of his favorite people.)

[twillightteaparty]

This is pretty long and angsty so if you don't wanna write it it's totally valid!!

If that's okay could i request the first years (possibly togheter?? Like the whole group comforting them) reacting to MC/Yuu being insecure (and jealous) about the fact that they're literally the ONLY magicless student at NRC, and they become more quiet and start isolating themselves to the point they literally don't set a foot out of their room.

Not even Crowley and the other teachers have been able get them out of there and everyone is really concerned about their well being.

When they're asked to try MC finally lets them in and they find their friend curled on the floor being a sobbing mess, MC tells them that the reason they've been avoiding everyone was that they felt left out because of the fact that they didn't have magic and they are jealous of them because of it.

How would they reassure their friend?

also, make it have a happy ending please gwosgsks cause i love them sm😭😭

Meaningless Magic To a 'Meaningless' Mortal: A Twisted Wonderland Fanfic (Yuu x First Years) (Friendship/Platonic)

Sorry, this took so long to get to you, but I got a little inspired and made it a fic because I figured it would be the best way to answer this one, so I hope it was worth the wait-

It started with the thought of 'i'll just take a day to myself' in hopes of making themself feel better. but a day turned into two. then, after one solid sobbing fit that end with throwing their pillow across the room, it became a week.

"I'm never good enough. . . " was one of many things they mumbled to themself in fits of tears. another common line is "... it's not fair"

tucked away in their room yuu hoarded snacks and the ability to make tea, they had no plan in leaving their room any time soon. not even a little bit.

Some of the staff after the week came by to see what was going on. after completely and bluntly telling crowly their most 'gracious' headmaster to leave them alone and to F off in the most polite way they could muster, Sam found themselves in laughter. but even after calming down, Sam couldn't seem to coax them out of their room.

You probably would have chosen to stay in their room for another week or so and wallow in their misery and thoughts a while longer but it seems that their first-year friends are demanding otherwise.

"come on yuu! you can't hide in there forever!" Ace was practically whining for their friend to exit their room. having sat down on the other side of the door and pressed his face up against it.

"Yeah, yuu, we aren't leaving till you exit the room and tell us what's wrong" Deuce states having been leaning on the wall next to the door waiting for any sort of response from the other side.

"guys yelling at the door isn't gonna do much help, they'll only come out when they are willing to," Epel explained to them, knowing all too well when someone wants to be left alone there is no arguing with them on the matter.

"well, we can't let them hide in their room for much longer, how do we know they're taking care of themself? humans do live very long without basic needs being met right?" Sebek chimed in with much annoyance. most of his annoyance is at the door that separated them from their beloved friend.

"do you think we could bribe them out of their room with a freshly cooked meal?" Jack said crossing his arms also being a little fed up with having to wait outside the door for so long and no progress being made.

A silence fell across them as the door suddenly opened, Yuu stood there hair a wild mess. in an oversized shirt with holes and stained with paint alongside whatever soft pants they could find. no one dares to move, let alone say anything. someone among the lot might have even forgotten to breathe. it was ace, he forgot to breathe.

"Are you guys happy now? I opened the door, now can you leave me alone?" Yuu said avoiding all eye contact and basically burning a hole into the wall across the hall. the act alone practically smashed Jacks' heart. Jack practically looks like a kicked puppy in all honesty.

"Yuu. . " Deuce has stood up straight by now. " what's wrong? we're your friends, you can talk to us" he wasn't sure what he should do, but he voiced his worry rather vocally. but what Yuu would say next would leave him scrambling to find words.

"I highly doubt any of you would understand." The bitterness in their voice almost felt like an emotional acid. tears built-in up in their eyes but they tried their best to ignore and hold back from crying.

"well how about trying to get us to understand! instead of just shooting us down and shooing us away? huh!" Ace didn't mean to come across so angry but he wasn't going to have any of this. absolutely none of it. this he has already trapped their legs in a hug seeing as he still hasn't gotten off the floor.

"Yeah, why don't we go down to the living area and like have some tea and talk about it?" Epel suggested relocating downstairs and relaxing with some tea. it usually helped him so he thought it would help at least a little bit. "if your not ready or don't want to talk about it, that's okay too" everyone else was quick to agree with Epel.

"I-. . " Yuu struggled to find the words they wanted to say, or maybe it was a lack of courage in the face of their peers and friends. "just leave me alone. . ." they cut themself off.

It was to almost all their surprises that Sebek was the one to step up and say something "yuu, you can't stay cooped up in your room for the rest of time. we can't help you if we don't know what's wrong"

"what's wrong?" Yuu let out a small bitter 'ha'. as if it was some cruel and twisted joke. though it may all be obvious to Yuu what may be their problem and what's wrong, these lads are far from being mind readers.

"I just-" Yuu went to continue but they found themself trailing off either unable to speak or searching endlessly for the right words to say. no one rushed them, though deuce did find himself placing a hand on their shoulder and offering them a nod of reassurance to let Yuu know there were there for them and listening.

Yuu found any anger and spite towards the world drifting away with the tears that slowly trailed down their face. leaving them feeling better and empty.

"I just - I'm left out of everything! and any efforts I put into things? bluntly ignored or neglected! and- and! you all just do things, and can do all sorts of magic! I'm just completely . . . jealous? ashamed? envious. . . " momentarily their anger had sparked up again almost reminding ace of Riddle about to loses his temper. but just as quick as it came, it was gone.

Epel only softly smiled at yuu, having completely understood what they mean in some kind of way. "Thank you for telling us what's been on your mind. do you want that tea now?" he offered in a gentle tone.

"yeah . . and can- can we watch a movie?" Yuu mustered the strength to even speak at this point as there were pretty much ready to just cry, and nothing more.

"Yeah, of course, we can," Jack answered their question. "I'll get started on the tea" Jack stated before quickly making a B-line to the kitchen.

"Do you want any blankets or something?" deuce asked while helping ace off of the floor finally.

"can you get- the fluffy blanket of my bed?" Yuu asked, "and whatever blankets you guys want so you don't get cold." They stated knowing how drafty and cold their nightmare of a dorm could be.

Deuce nodded and brought ace along with him to help carry blankets and pillows down to the living room. leaving Epel and Sebek to walk downing to the living area of the dorm with yuu.

"If there's anything else you need just let us know alright?" Sebek wanted to make sure yuu know that they're able to ask for anything that they need during this time.

"let's start with a movie night, work our way up from there" Yuu let out a sigh before flopping on the couch.

"Sounds like a plan to me" Epel started. "I'll go help Jack with the tea and snacks then" he declared just as ace and deuce arrived on the scene with any and all blankets they could find.

it was safe to say they all spent the night watching movies and eating snacks. but it wasn't long before they lost track of times and most of them were fast asleep. scattered across the couches and floor of the ramshackle dorm.

"Sorry if we ended up ignoring you struggling Yuu, I'm sure none of us meant to. but don't think for a second that we don't care about you or anything. because you're not useless or replaceable. you often come up with solutions that would have never crossed our minds. we all have things we could learn from you"

----

I hope this is good enough, god I hope it's good enough I really tried but I'm very tired and just ah- just ah. I don't think writing is my strongest suit but there is no way to get better than to write so there's that. also sometimes you just got to say something is done and move on so I'm sorry about not making this fully fleshed out as I would like it to be.

but yeah, sometimes you just need to watch movies with your friends to feel better, yeah?

signed, Admin Tea

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Night Crawling

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Some explicit smutty goodness in a dive bar bathroom, some recreational drug use, some Sam feels. 

A/N: I really thought I was going to write PWP for once. As usual, some feels snuck in. Set at some vague point in Season 5. 

I’ve had the new Miley Cyrus album on repeat all day; inspiration, title, and bathroom graffiti quote all came from “Night Crawling.” Listen to that and “Gimme What I Want” if you want maximum ~atmosphere~ or whatever while reading. 

“Another?” Sam asks, leaning in to make himself heard over the music. He gives me a twisted, wicked version of his usual dimpled smile. There’s a drop of tequila clinging to his lip, and I want to lick it off. He’s so close. 

My head is still spinning from the last shot and from his attention. I shake it off. 

“Bathroom, I’ll be back,” I tell him. 

Sam’s in a fucking mood tonight. Not that I blame him. Time is ticking away, faster by the day it feels like; if Lucifer was after me, I’d take whatever escape I could get. 

Dean’s at the motel, hopefully putting some ice on his twisted ankle or maybe sleeping, and normally Sam would be fussing over him like an overgrown fucking mother hen. Instead, he suggested that we go “blow off some steam,” looking at me with this glint in his eyes, like he was daring me. 

So… here we are, getting fucked up in a grimy rock club, watching some Nine Inch Nails wannabes wail like a porn soundtrack over a dirty industrial bassline. 

Sam fucking Winchester. Always full of surprises. 

It’s one of those single-occupancy dive bathrooms where I don’t want to touch anything or, like, inhale too hard. It’s impossible to tell what color the walls originally were under the layers of concert flyers and graffiti. There’s probably enough cocaine residue on the chipped porcelain sink counter to get an elephant high. That kind of place. 

He wants me almost as much as I want him, I’m pretty sure, but I never thought either of us would act on it. Too many complications, too many ways to fuck it all up… now, though? The entire world is fucked. Might as well get laid before it all goes to shit.

Two lines of red Sharpie scrawl next to the mirror grab my attention: night crawling, sky falling, gotta listen when the Devil’s calling. 

Yeah. Well. 

I don’t think either of us will make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t want to. That’s what this is all about, really. He started this apocalypse. He’ll never forgive himself if he lives through it. I’ll never forgive him if he doesn’t. 

I wash my hands and splash some water on my cheeks, bracing myself. I can feel the chemicals kicking up my spine, now.

If Sam fucking Winchester needs to indulge his self-destructive streak and get out of his head for a night, I’ll keep him company. Fuck knows I’ll never say no to him. I’ll stay with him til the end, if he lets me. 

It hits me again: this is the end. The world is about to end, and that sweet, sexy, puppy-eyed motherfucker out there is at the center of all of it. Heaven, hell, good, evil… and Sam. If tonight is what we’ve got — if this is all we’ll ever get — I’ll take it. I’ve always wanted more, but… this’ll do. It’ll have to do. 

He’s slouching against the wall, right outside the bathroom hallway. He gives me this dark, hungry grin when he sees me, and maybe whatever was in that pastel blue pill is making itself known, or maybe it’s just Sam that’s sending a wave of prickly heat over my skin… either way, it feels good. 

“C’mon,” he says, passing me a cup of ice water, and then he’s gripping me by the wrist, pulling me into the crowd. 

Sam doesn’t dance, and he sure as hell doesn’t dance with me, but he’s not fucking around: hands on my waist, hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at me, cheeks flushed, moving with the beat. I rest my free hand on his upper arm, right where the swell of his bicep flexes against the soft cotton sleeve of his t-shirt, and I can’t help but squeeze slightly, feeling hot skin and muscle under my palm. I swallow hard. 

Sam leans in closer. I can smell him, the natural scent of his sweat under the spice of his deodorant, and it’s so overwhelming that I shiver. 

He gets his lips right up against my ear, the deep rumble of his voice a physical thing that I can feel as well as hear: “Ever just get sick of being yourself?” 

Jesus. 

“Yeah,” I mumble, mouth dry. I don’t know if he hears me but it doesn’t really matter. 

“I think too much. I don’t want to think tonight. Is that okay?” 

I suck in a breath. “Don’t need to explain, Sam. I get it.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, heavy-lidded, golden skin shining with sweat in the flecks of light coming off the disco ball. “Dance with me.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, Sam, anything you want.”

I toss back the cup of water, gulping it down, too eager; some of it trickles down my chin. I don’t care. I drop the cup and run my hand up Sam’s chest. His eyes flutter closed and he licks his lips, sinful, gorgeous. For a moment I think he might say something but instead he spins me around and hauls me closer, my back to his chest. 

The song is filthy, all thudding funk hooks and wild drums. There’s this frantic heat behind it that has me sinking under the surface, swimming through the riff, and the pulse of it wriggles down my spine and works itself out through my hips as I toss my head. It’s the kind of rhythm that’s made for sweating all over a stranger. 

Sam might as fucking well be a stranger right now. I never knew he could move like this. 

His hips swivel and twist, and his hands slide down to my thighs, pinning me against the solid muscled heat of his body. I feel reckless. I feel high and overstimulated and utterly fearless, and I can feel his touch echoing through me, inside me, throbbing down my belly to where I’m empty and suddenly aching. 

As soon as I think about it, the emptiness hits me hard. My cunt is clenching around nothing in time with the gritty slap of percussion. I arch my back and rub myself against Sam shamelessly. 

He’s hard against my ass, hard and getting harder with every shrieking lick of guitar, and the awareness of it sends a thrill down through the core of me, like a bolt of lightning striking between my legs. My breath catches and hisses out of my lungs like I’m a punctured balloon. I feel dizzy. 

It’s all so intense right now. Every inch of my skin is fizzing, and the simple curl of his fingers around my wrist has me shuddering like he’s stroking something much more intimate. 

On any other night I would try to step back, to get myself under control… I’d start thinking, and I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I’d get stuck in my head instead of giving in to the mind-blowingly intimate thrill of his fingertips pressing into my pulse. 

We’re not thinking tonight. I couldn’t think straight even if I wanted to. 

The beat changes, segueing into something low and slinking and goddamn obscene. I’m dripping with sweat — mine or Sam’s? I can’t tell — and my skin is on fire, and I want Sam in this awful, all-consuming way that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone.

So I don’t think about it; I just turn, twisting in his arms until we’re face to face, or rather, face to chest. He’s biting his lip, expression almost pained as he grips my waist and slots a thigh between mine. I snake my arms around his neck and roll my hips, feeling the seam of my jeans dragging up the sensitive spot between my legs, and I’m absurdly grateful for the way the music drowns out any embarrassing noise I might make. 

There’s a drop of sweat sliding down the corded muscle of his neck. It trickles to a glittering halt right at eye level, in the hollow of his throat, and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I could fall down and worship whatever god invented the v-neck. 

I don’t fall to my knees, but I do lean forward and taste his skin. Salt floods my tongue. 

Sam’s hand runs up my back, cups the nape of my neck, and he doesn’t so much guide me as yank, tilting my head to meet the rough urgent sting of his teeth and the soft slide of his tongue. I groan into his mouth, and his hands flatten at the small of my back, pulling me impossibly closer. I want to shove myself against him until I can burrow under his skin. 

His mouth. He nips and sucks and explores, lips on mine with crushing force one second, whisper-sweet the next. 

I’m melting. I must be melting. 

I hold on for dear life, delirious, drunk on the way he’s kissing me. I’ve imagined this before, but I never imagined it like this. 

We’re still dancing, or something like it anyway; his hips swivel, and I rut against him, my entire body throbbing with animalistic need. Sam shifts his weight, grinding against me, and I can feel the fat stiff length of him right up against my center. I whimper, desperate and wanton. 

One hand slides up my back, around my ribs, up, until he can trace the curve of my breast with his thumb and then pinch my nipple through my bra. When I buck against him, he does it again. My knees don’t want to support me any more. 

I’m a half-second away from coming just like this. I’m shaking. 

“The fuck are we doing?” Sam says roughly. He nips my earlobe.

“Not thinking, remember?” I snap, and then I’m stumbling back, almost falling, tugging him by the wrist as I start to weave through the crushing press of bodies. My heart is pounding. Everything blurs together. My skin feels too cold without him all over it. 

There’s one open bathroom, no line, no reason to hesitate. The heavy door closes behind us and the deadbolt slides home with a metallic echoing thud. 

He’s already crowding me back, hands on my cheeks, tip of his nose brushing mine. I grab at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the sweat-damp fabric. My ass hits the counter and I surge up clumsily to kiss him. The angle’s off; our teeth clack together. 

We laugh and fit ourselves back together, bodies like puzzle pieces in that fucking song Sam would never admit he loves, and I could cry with relief at the way he feels under my hands. I can feel him breathing, the harsh rise and fall of his chest, and I can feel the heat of him, blood and sweat and bone, solid and real and here and mine, at least for tonight. 

He fumbles with the button of my jeans and kisses me like he’s drowning. Then he curls two long fingers up and into me, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I lean back, heels skidding on the dirty tile as I try to brace myself and rock my hips up all at once. 

“Need you to fuck me,” I bite out, remarkably steady considering the way I’m trembling. 

“You gonna regret this tomorrow?” Sam asks. He twists his fingers, knuckles stretching me open, so good my eyes roll back in my head. 

Tomorrow… we’re not going to think about tomorrow. 

“Might regret waiting this long,” I groan. Understatement of the century. 

“You ‘n me both. You sure?” He’s staring down at me and he looks wrecked: pupils blown, lips swollen, hair clinging to his temples where his skin is streaked with sweat. 

“Do you feel how close I am?” I grab his wrist with one hand, holding him there, fucking myself on his fingers as I try to pull my jeans down with the other hand. 

Sam’s mouth drops open and his eyes go unfocused for a second. Whatever self-control he had left is gone. He pulls his hand away, and I whine at the loss, but together we get my pants down, and I kick them off as he gets his belt open. He’s just as big as I always imagined, proportional to those sinfully long elegant fingers, and my mouth fucking waters as I watch him stroke himself. 

He bites his lip, chest heaving, and tugs me up onto the very edge of the grimy sink counter. Before I can find my balance he’s right there, hooking an arm under my knee so that he can spread my legs wider, and he’s guiding the hot velvety head of his cock down my center and in, and the slick blunt pressure of it makes me claw at his back, trying to get him closer even though I can barely handle how good that first thick inch feels. 

“Fuuu - unnhhhhh - fuck, Sam, I need…” I choke out, and then all I can do is pant breathlessly, incoherent, as he rocks his hips and starts to stretch me open. I’m helpless like this, no leverage to do anything but sit there and take it, and he moves so maddeningly slow that I’m going out of my skull. 

“God, look at you,” he breathes. “So fucking good. Always wondered what you’d look like taking my cock. Always imagined you begging. Are you gonna beg for me?” 

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and give it to me, Sam, I swear —” 

“Yeah?” he growls. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise.

I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, leaning back on my hands, and then I can arch my back and pull him deeper, working myself onto his cock. 

“Sam —” I start, but before I can say anything else he slams home, grinding in hard and fast, and my voice cracks on a stuttering, incoherent whine. It’s blindingly good. He’s steely-hard and so goddamn thick I feel like I’m about to split open, like one wrong move is going to pull me apart. His first rolling thrust sparks this wrenching wave of pressure that fills me up and shakes me down to the tips of my toes, my entire body rippling with feverish heat. 

“That’s my girl,” he pants. He pulls me against him and twists up, rough and filthy, and I shudder against him, writhing, mindless and overwhelmed. 

“Sam,” I choke out. My voice is high-pitched and squeaky-thin, and the next sharp thrust makes me forget whatever I was going to say beyond, “Nnnnhhhhhyesohgod.” 

“There?” 

“Fuck. Yes.” 

He moans, low and broken, and finds that perfect spot again, grinding into it with eye-popping force.

I can feel it, pleasure cramping through me with every movement, coiling up, building around the deep throbbing ache where he’s fucking into me. I feel like a wild animal, primal and lost.

“Good girl. Fuck, feels so good.”

I clutch at his shoulders, muscles quaking, burying my face in his neck as all that white-hot pressure peaks inside me. I let out an ugly, anguished sob, can’t hold it back, and then all I can feel is the all-consuming spasm of my orgasm, tension rocketing through every inch of me, sending me out into space for a long paralyzed moment. The first pulse of it is so scary-intense that I can’t breathe, can’t control myself, can’t keep track of my own body… 

Then it all comes back at once, and I’m exquisitely aware of Sam against me as he fucks me through it, hips surging forward as I squeeze around him and urge him deeper. 

“Thought about this so many times,” he’s confessing, ragged and raw. 

“Me too,” I gasp.  

He sucks in a shaky breath, moving slower as I start to come down, and I can feel him holding back now. “Think about you so fucking much, I can’t —”

“Me fucking too, Sam.”

He kisses me, gentle in a way that could very easily destroy me. 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he whispers, forehead sweaty where it rests against mine.  

“Fuck, Sam, don’t — this is —” 

I feel so strange and strung-out, caught between the shivery aftershocks in my belly and the startling tenderness in his voice as he mumbles, “Wanted to take my time.”

“Sam.” 

“Wanted to take my time with you,” he repeats. He moves against me with this slow, snakelike undulation. “Wanted to lay you out and kiss you everywhere and fucking worship you.” 

“We can. We can — I want that.” 

“Never gonna be enough,” he chokes out. “I knew — I knew, if I did this, I’d never want to stop.”

My skin is lit up with the feel of him, liquid heat gathering in my gut as my body responds to every perfect touch, but I’m afraid my ribcage is about to split open with the way my heart is hammering. 

We’re in a goddamn dive bar bathroom, for fuck’s sake, and I’m fucked up, and maybe this will feel cheap and tawdry and silly in the morning, but… somehow I don’t think it will. Somehow this feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened to me. 

“Why’d we wait this long?” I ask. There’s an embarrassing wobble in my voice. 

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he grits out. “Because I was scared.” Before I can respond, he kisses me, all teeth and desperation, twisting his hips and swallowing my moan. He slides his hands under my shirt, sliding them up my back, and drags his fingernails down in trails of stinging heat. It’s pleasure and pain and fucking obliteration, and the sensory overload has me spiraling out again. 

“Fuck that,” I half-laugh. My back arches and my voice breaks, and I bite his lip hard enough that I taste copper. 

He groans, full-throated and shameless, and ducks his head, sinking his teeth into the sweat-slick curve of my neck. He sucks, nibbles, and it sets off fireworks behind my eyelids. 

“Close, Sam. So close,” I babble, breathing harsh and heavy. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull, and I can feel him moan. “Never thought it’d feel like this. It’s — this is so much better —” 

He shudders against me, lets out this long, guttural sound, and then he shifts and pounds into me harder, and all I can do is cling to him, pulling him closer like I’m never going to let go. “C’mon, then. Fuck. Tell me what you want.” 

“Please, Sam. Just — please. Please.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he growls. “You know that, right?” 

“Anything?” 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t leave me,” I blurt out, as the unbearable tension starts to crest. “Don’t leave me, Sam. Please.” 

I know he hears it. He gasps like I punched him. I can feel him jerk, twitch, fingers clawing at my back, cock twitching and swelling inside me as he starts to come. I bite down on the meat of his shoulder as I let go. My orgasm feels like it’s ripping something loose, an earthquake in my core, and I don’t trust myself not to say exactly what’s on my mind. There’s a surge of pleasure, one glowing wave of it then another, and I’m dimly aware of shuddering against Sam as he rocks into me one more time, clutching him close… as if I could get close enough to keep him here with me. 

It’s impossible to be sad right now. I’m chemically incapable of sadness, still soaring high, but this is so much bigger than sadness anyway. I just feel like I’m about to break. 

“That,” he says, with an ugly sound, half-laugh, half-sob. “That’s what I was afraid of. That I wouldn’t ever want to leave.” 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Let’s just — let’s not think about it. Okay? Can we go back to the motel and — can we do that again? Take our time?” 

“Just for tonight?” he asks raggedly. 

“Just for tonight. We’re not going to think about what comes next.” 

He nods. We both know it’s a lie. 

,

,

,

[golden-barnes]

New Barnes added

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN! Reader

Summary: You are Bucky’s impulse control but for once you gave in. A story of a super soldier with a heart of gold, a grumpy cat and an adorable dog.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings:small mentions of animal abuse and anxiety. But mostly fluff.

A/N: I haven’t had any inspiration or any will power to write until this idea hit me while studying.

Everyone knew Bucky as the big bad Winter Soldier. Grumpy and angry are his only emotions. But everyone that knew him, knew that under all that scowling and grimacing, there was just an awkward man with a love for animals. Especially strays. 

Another unknown fact is, he volunteers at a local shelter and helps pick up strays in his spare time. That’s how he found Alpine. It was like another form of therapy for him. Finding the animals, cleaning them, and playing with them would wash almost all the anxiety he had in the moment. It was his little hide away.

 After a gruelling mission, he would come home to you and later go to the shelter. Most of the times you went with him, because if not, you would have to live in a barn like the Bartons. Every day he would come home with pictures and videos, and give you puppy eyes for you to give in and get another pet.

“Bucky. Babe. Sweet heart. We have Alpine. He will definitely not like another animal to steal his spotlight.” You would try to reason with him. But he would just pout while showing a video of two of the new strays he rescued. You would have to close to close your eyes most of the time because he just looked so damn cute. He would eventually stop his pouting but not after being dramatic for a few minutes.

 All out of good fun because he knew Alpine wouldn’t like another family member. He, just like his father, was a little diva and high on theatrics. He liked that he was the only one getting you guys attention. Your lazy Saturday morning cuddles, Bucky’s warm pats on the head, your “good boy” and “that’s my boy”. All of that belonged to Alpine and Alpine only. And he would be damned if his parents would be taken away from him.

This time was different. The owner of the shelter had texted Bucky and you, to tell you about the upcoming Adopt-a-thon. For someone who hated social events, Bucky loved volunteering in these adoption fairs. Seeing all the animals he has helped out get warm houses, just warmed his heart.

 And having two avengers didn’t hurt the shelter either. Sometimes he would bring others, even Sam. And force everyone to wear the volunteer shirts, to which nobody complained (with the exception of Sam) because they knew how much this meant for Bucky.

The Adopt-a-thon began as it normally did. Bucky and you were still putting up balloons and some decoration. Giggling at your boyfriend who was practically bouncing on the heels of his feet, trying to contain his excitement and failing miserably. 

“Uhm mister Barnes?” One of the younger volunteers said tapping on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yes?” Bucky handed you the balloon he was trying to tie.

“We are having problems with the pup. She won’t leave her cage and doesn’t want anyone to touch her. We just-” The volunteer said, almost choking on her own words. Bucky gave her a soft nod.

“It’s okay, we’ll handle it.” Bucky told her and looked at you. Silently telling you to follow him. You hung up the last balloon and followed him to the back, where they had all the animals.

All the cages were empty because all the animals were outside waiting to get adopted. Well all were empty except one. You saw this little puppy, curled up in a little ball. Quivering. Bucky let out a sigh and went to the cage.  Bucky sat criss crossed close to the cage and you did the same.

Bucky extended his arm putting it close to the pup for her to smell it. But the dog tensed at your presence so you decided to do the same Bucky did. Which seemed to calm her down. Bucky scooped her up and out her in his arms, petting her head softly. You noticed her quivering had stopped when Bucky grabbed her.

“Cops bust an illegal dog breeding ring where they were breeding to fight. Most of her litter had died before the cops could arrive. They would have killed her if they hadn’t gotten there in time. Someone tipped the ring off and they wanted to destroy all the evidence.” He said softly, still petting the dog. She looked at you, tilting her head as if she was analysing you. 

“What breed is she?” You whispered to him. 

“A german rottweiler. You can touch her, she’s much more calm now.” He moved his hand a bit to let you put your hand. You rested your hand on her head, and she looked at you hesitantly for a minute but then warmed up. She let out a soft huff which made you and Bucky laugh.

“Oh,so she’s gonna be a big big girl. A strong and pretty one too.” You cooed which made her tag wiggle. You giggled at her reaction. You didn’t notice the look Bucky was giving you. A look filled with love, admiration and joy. 

“Hey, bubs?” You said quietly, still looking at the dog in your boyfriend’s lap. That snapped him out of his trance. He let out a small yes.

You stopped looking at the dog and looked directly at him.

“Can we take her home?” He looked at you as if you had gone crazy. It was usually his job to beg to take home an animal, so it was a no brainer that his answer was-

“Yes! Oh god, Y/N of course!” He screamed, startling the poor pup who was almost falling asleep in his lap. But she sensed his excitement and started to look back at you and Bucky willing her tail. 

“You like that idea girl?” You patted her head and she barked as if she was agreeing with you.

When the fair ended, both Bucky and the pup were almost bouncing from happiness. Not being able to contain their emotions. You smiled at your little, growing family. Then it hit you. Alpine “Drama king” Barnes was waiting for you at your home.

And safe to say, he wasn’t happy. Bucky gave you the pup and you sat down with her on the couch, to give him a chance to reason with his grumpy son. Can cats pout? Because Alpine has probably found a way.

“Al,c’mon. You are being unreasonable.” The cat hissed at his owner, as if he was telling him no, I refuse to share you guys. 

You hadn’t noticed that the pup had wandered off your lap and went to where the grumpy cat and the adult man who was trying to get the cat to be nice. The puppy stared at Alpine, who hissed at her. But she didn’t look afraid. She just went underneath Alpine, and sat there. 

Bucky and you laughed at Alpine’s widened eyes. He looked uncomfortable with the entire thing but he didn’t move. He just watched the strange dog, who was trying to cuddle with him. Bucky grabbed the dog and placed her on a pillow, and strangely Alpine followed and sat in front of her. 

Your boyfriend sat next to you, as you both watched the cat interacting with the puppy.

“What will we name her?” He said softly.

“How about Cherry?” You tell him while he draped his hand over your shoulder pulling you closer.

“Cherry Barnes and Alpine Barnes. Hmm.. I like it.” He hummed. You laid your head on his shoulder, cuddling next to him.

“Our little family.” “Family indeed.”

[hepalien]

Destiel Bunker Fic Rec

Little to no angst to the best of my memory

Good girl. by orange_crushed @robotmango - Gen, 1.7k

Crack, TFW, Fluff

(In which Team Free Will gets a four-legged mascot.)

Sam drives her to a veterinarian’s office one day, in the stolen car he is now increasingly regarding as his, and she comes back sort of sulky and depressed from having been tricked into getting a series of vaccinations.

“I know the feeling,” Cas says, at floor level with her, while the puppy licks the underside of his wrist and makes sad eyes. “I was once immune to tetanus, but now I am forced to endure booster shots.” He looks over at Sam and Dean, and lowers his voice to a whisper. “They told me they were taking me to the zoo,” he says. He pets her ears. “You will learn to trust again.”

The Heart’s Memory by @imogenbynight - Teen, 2k

Reunion, Season 8, Fluff

After three months trapped in Heaven, Castiel flies to the bunker, and contemplates the nature of love and the human heart.

Exercise by cadignan @morethanslightly - Explicit, 2.1k

Season 8

Dean didn’t even know the bunker had a gym for the first few weeks.

the run and go by microcomets @mishcollin - Teen, 2.7k

Fallen Cas, Domestic, TFW, Fluff

Cas makes a list. Dean is Yoda, and Sam is unimpressed.

Sock it to Me by @domesticadventures and @propinquitous - Gen, 3k

Established Relationship, Fluff

It starts with the bacon socks.

(or, SWS: Socks Without Story)

more under the cut

Winchester 12 GA by Firebog @brainsforbabyjesus - Gen, 3.3k

Fallen Cas, Proposal, Fluff

Dean plays another game of are we dating or do we just fuck sometimes? The game goes like this, drink a bottle of beer for every maybe-date he’s been on with Cas and drink a double shot for every time they’ve fucked.

Dean’s not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that he’s been stumbling drunk for the last four days.

suddenly all at once by @xylodemon - Mature, 3.5k

Future Fic, Fallen Cas, Humor, First Time

Dean falls in love on a Thursday.

Cas and Chill by @xylodemon - Mature, 3.7k

Season 11

The one where Dean comes home and they watch TV.

Quintet by Anythingtoasted - Mature, 3.7k

Fallen Cas, Fluff, 5+1 Things

based loosely around the 'five times' structure, but not really. fluffy as hell.

Every Time A Bell Rings by @kototyph - Explicit, 5k

5+1 Things, Wings, P/rn With Plot, Fluff

Five times Castiel got Dean dirty, and one time Dean returned the favor.

Come Home by @whelvenwings - Gen, 6.3k

Domestic, TFW, Fluff

Click click click click.

Dean smiled as he entered the bunker’s library to hear the familiar sounds of Cas knitting, the steady rhythmic soundtrack to every single morning. In his hands he held a pair of mugs, and the scent of coffee curled up into the air, exotifying the musty scent of old books and dust-thick shelves. Dean had splashed out last time he went to the store, and bought a special Colombian blend.

________________________________________________________________________

Dean, Castiel, and Sam have lived happily in the bunker together for a while, when they happen upon an old abandoned house. It doesn't look promising at first, but with some love and hard work - and some paint fights, from Dean and Cas - it starts to look like somewhere they could stay: a permanent home, with light through the windows and herbs in the kitchen.

To Know by @imogenbynight - Explicit, 7k

Fallen Cas, Post Season 9, Fluff

Dean tells Castiel not to open the box on top of his dresser while they're away. He doesn't, exactly. But he still sees what's inside.

Rock of Ages by Winter_of_our_Discontent @bamfinacuddlyjumper - Teen, 7.4k

Oblivious, Sam Knows

It starts because they need a rock. Not, of course, just any rock, but apparently this particular critter needs an Aztec-style obsidian-and-jade dagger right through its human-teeth-and-eyeball-eating heart to actually kill it.

In which Cas gets a ring, and Dean (finally) gets a clue.

Aim and Ignite by @wincechesters - Mature, 10.3k

Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post Season 8 AU, TFW, Fluff

After the angels fall and Cas loses his grace, and with Sam still recovering from the toll taken on his body by the trials, Dean starts a prank war as a way to lighten the mood in the bunker and alleviate his boredom. It might just have some unexpected consequences.

Tales from the Bunker of Domesticity by @teaandjumpers - Mature, 17k

Domestic, Season 8, Fluff

Moments of domesticity between Dean and Cas (and occasionally Sam) in the Men of Letters bunker. Essentially, this is a story about the boys building a home together.

When you have a future by Firebog @brainsforbabyjesus - Teen, 17.6k

Fallen Cas, Accidental Relationship, Found Family, Fluff

Sam closes Hell. Castiel closes Heaven. The heroes save the day. There's no Heaven or Hell waiting to cause the next big disaster. There's no more end of the world. There's only a squirmy feeling in his chest that feels a lot like freedom. So, now what?

(Things I promise you in this fic: dog poetry, rabbits, and fluff)

I Been Blind by @jemariel - Explicit, 22.3k

Fallen Cas, P/rn with Feelings

Castiel is in love with humanity. At least, so long as he's not the one experiencing it.

A lighthearted smutty romp wherein Dean helps Cas navigate the tricky minefield of human needs.

more recs

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 4 - Secrets

Title: “Messy”

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3,503

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Original Characters

Tags: John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst, Breaking The Rules, Dean is Sam's Real Parent (But he shouldn't have to be), Dean Giving Sam a Childhood, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Meets a Cute Boy, Unwanted Haircut, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dean is 13 and Sam is 9

Summary: John leaves Dean and Sam alone at a motel the day before Halloween. Despite John's hard-and-fast rules about leaving the motel room, Sam convinces Dean to take him trick-or-treating. While they're out, Dean meets a boy who makes him feel like breaking the rules was worth it.

On AO3 Here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dean, you know the drill,” John says brusquely as he hoists the duffel over his shoulder. “Tell me the rules.”

Dean stands up from where he’s folding laundry on the motel room floor. They stopped at the laundromat this morning, John tossing Dean just enough quarters for two small loads before taking Sam along with him to the local library for research. They’ve been tracking a creature for days and John’s still not sure exactly what it is.

Dean would have loved to help with the books. Instead he sat in front of the laundry machine, exactly the same as the hundreds of others he’s fed with quarters over the years, and watched their clothes spin around and around. He noticed new holes in Sam’s jeans and socks when he moved them to the dryer. If his dad will let him use some of their wound-stitching thread, he’ll repair them after this hunt.

He faces his dad, posture straight and hands behind his back. “The rules are stay in the room, keep the doors and windows locked, don’t answer the door for anyone except you and Bobby, only spend money if I absolutely have to, and always have a weapon in reach,” he rattles off.

John nods, face impassive. “And the most important rule?”

“Protect Sammy,” Dean says firmly. He glances over to the rickety table under the window, where his scrawny little brother is filling out a worksheet. It’s part of the last round of homework their teachers had given them at their previous school, right before John took them out again to hit the road.

Dean quietly tossed his own homework in the garbage and told Sammy to finish every worksheet, because he was going to mail it back to the school and his teacher would check it. Sam’s even writing a letter in the cursive he’s learning to go along with it.

Dean has no clue what the address of the school is.

John pulls the Impala key out of his pocket and opens the door. “I’ll be out of cell range during this next leg. Check in date is Thursday. Don’t call for help until Sunday.”

Dean nods. John steps halfway out the door before turning back. He eyes Dean for a long moment, as if he’s trying to come up with something to add. Eventually he just says “I’m cutting your hair when I get back. You look messy.”

The door closes. In the silence of the room, Dean reaches up and touches his bangs. Just this morning, in the reflection of the washing machine door, he admired how his hair was curling a bit over his ears. It framed his face and made him look softer. Less skinny. More like the other boys he’d seen at school.

Oh well.

The Impala roars to life outside in the parking lot, and Dean listens until the purr of the engine fades away down the road. He looks at the half-folded pile of laundry at his feet.

“Tomorrow’s Halloween.”

Dean jumps a little. Sam’s right next to him, eyebrows raised expectantly. Dean pushes him away and drops onto the couch, nudging a balled-up pair of socks with his foot. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

Sam sits down next to him. “Dean, I think Dad forgot about Halloween.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “He didn’t forget, Sammy. It just doesn’t matter.” He avoids looking at his brother, running his fingers over the ridge of threads barely holding together the hole in his own jeans.

“But I told James I’d be a doctor,” Sam needles. “He’s gonna be a pirate.”

Sam’s ability to instantly make friends always leaves Dean feeling half-proud, half-nervous. Sam was in third grade with James for less than two weeks, and he still talks about him constantly.

Dean thinks it’s better not to get attached. He just can’t bring himself to teach Sam that particular lesson yet.

He sighs and glances at Sam. “You know you can’t trick-or-treat with James anyway, right? He’s in Denver.”

Sam groans dramatically and flops against the hard backrest of the couch. His shaggy hair falls into his face. Dean looks at the longest strands, curving past Sam’s cheekbones.

“We can just do Halloween here,” he suggests, even though he knows “buying candy from the gas station” definitely doesn’t count as necessary spending.

Sam shakes his head where it’s still resting on the couch. “That’s not real Halloween.”

“We’ve never done a real Halloween, so how would you know?” Dean’s just buying time now, putting off the moment when he has to say “no.”

The stink-eye that’s sent his way is of epic proportions. “I watch TV, Dean.”

Dean rubs his face. “Sammy--”

“--Oh, please, Dean, please!” Sam shifts into begging mode, sitting up and whipping out the puppy eyes. His left eye is half-covered by hair. “I know we’re not allowed, but can’t we break the rules just one time? It can be a secret.”

They hold eye contact for a moment, but Sam’s more stubborn. Dean looks away first, his eyes falling to the laundry on the floor. Almost unconsciously, he reaches under the lumpy couch cushion next to him and lets his fingers graze the pistol stashed there. His stomach rumbles and he wonders how far he can stretch their last cans of soup.

Suddenly, a secret doesn’t sound so bad at all.

“Okay,” he says.

Sam must’ve not expected Dean to relent, because he’s silent for a couple seconds before whooping and launching himself at Dean. “Ahh! Thank you thank you thank you!”

Dean can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He hugs Sam back, the kid’s bony shoulder digging into his ribcage. After a moment, he pulls away and puts on his most serious face. Hands on Sam’s upper arms, he looks him straight in the eyes. “Sam, if we do this, you cannot tell Dad. Do you understand?”

Sam nods enthusiastically, still grinning. Dean digs his fingers into his arms. “Listen to me, or we’re not going.” He waits for Sam’s face to fall a little before continuing. “You can’t just not tell Dad, you can’t drop hints. You have to clean up all your wrappers. We can never talk about it. Do you get it?”

Sam’s eyes are wide now. He nods again, very small, and Dean knows he’s gotten through. He loosens his grip on Sam’s arms. “All right, then. How are we gonna make you look like a doctor?”

Sam beams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, they lock the motel room door behind them and head out. The neighborhood that starts a few streets behind the motel is pretty normal, as far as Dean can tell. The houses aren’t super big, but the yards are, and there are toys scattered on some of the lawns. The biggest house on the corner even has a tree swing. The big tree reminds him of the one in their front yard in Lawrence. He tries not to think about that too much.

It’s dark, and chilly -- they’re still in Colorado -- and Dean holds his jacket closed in front of his chest. The zipper broke a couple weeks ago. Ahead of him, Sam doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. His “doctor coat” flaps behind his legs as he skips down the sidewalk. It’s just a sheet from the bed that Dean stuck together with safety pins in a certain way (it doesn’t look like a coat at all, but the mirror in the motel bathroom was shattered so Sam couldn’t see it anyway). He hung their stethoscope from the big first-aid kit around Sam’s neck, with the express instruction not to lose it, and he emptied the rest of the first-aid kit onto the couch so Sam could carry the empty box with the big red cross and look professional.

Sam hasn’t smiled this much in weeks. Dean’s neck is crawling with the knowledge that he’s breaking rules, bigtime, but he shakes it off. They’re out now. It’s done.

Sam has already latched on to a group of kids making their way up the drive to a single-story brick house. Dean hears him introduce himself, sees him flash the big toothy smile that Dean told him makes him look friendly. The other kids compliment his stethoscope, and Dean relaxes a little.

Everyone in the group is wearing what looks like homemade costumes, too — there’s another bedsheet, draped over a short kid’s head like a ghost (if only ghosts actually looked like that, Dean thinks); and a long black coat, obviously from an adult, dwarfing a kid who Dean’s pretty sure is supposed to be a vampire. Sam, in his makeshift getup, fits right in.

Dean’s trailing behind the group, letting Sam do his making-friends thing, when he notices another older kid doing the same. He looks about Dean’s age, maybe a year older, fourteen or so, and he’s dressed like an angel with a blue halo made out of pipe cleaners. The rest of his outfit is normal, though — a t-shirt that’s printed to look like a suit and tie, under a regular puffy winter coat. Dean’s eyes linger on him as they follow the younger kids up to the house. When they come to a stop so Sam can ring the doorbell, the other boy looks over at Dean, too.

“Hi,” he says. In the yellow glow of the porchlight, his eyes look greenish blue. “I’m Al.” He reaches out a hand. Dean looks at it for a moment, then takes it. They shake. Al’s hand is warm and smooth, a stark contrast to Dean’s freezing, calloused palm. Dean wishes he could hold on a bit longer.

“Dean,” he replies, dropping Al’s hand. He’s not sure what to say next. That’s Sam’s area of expertise.

Luckily, Al doesn’t let him flounder long. “Do you live around here?” he asks, friendly and curious. Dean’s used to hearing that question asked with a thick layer of suspicion, usually out of the mouth of some nosy adult. He still gives his practiced answer, though.

“No, me and my brother are just visiting our grandparents for a couple days.”

Al nods, accepting the lie easily. “I thought I’d never seen you at school.” He points at the sheet-clad ghost. “That’s my sister Katie. She’s seven. It’s the first time our parents are letting me take her trick-or-treating on our own.”

Dean smiles and gestures at Sam, who’s holding the empty first-aid kit out to the homeowner for candy. “That’s Sam. He’s nine. Same deal for us.”

“I like his costume,” Al says. Dean bristles for a moment, until he realizes Al’s being sincere.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I like Katie’s too.” He sweeps his eyes over Al again. “Why are you wearing a fake suit with your halo?”

Al looks down at himself and laughs sheepishly, smoothing down the front of his t-shirt. “I wanted to do a toga with a sheet, but it’s way too cold. I just dressed up ‘cause Katie wanted me to. The halo was the quickest thing.”

“It works,” Dean assures him, suddenly wanting Al to feel good about himself. He shuffles his feet a little, kicking at the fallen leaves littering the walkway. Al smiles at him and something grows in Dean’s chest, a warm, glowing ball, making everything feel tight and tingly. He’s not sure what to do with it.

Sam appears at his elbow suddenly, much to Dean’s relief. He ruffles Sam’s hair. “What’d you get?”

Already chewing on something that looks very caramelly as it squishes between his teeth, Sam holds out the first-aid kit. “She gave me two big ones!” he announces around his mouthful. Two full-sized Milky Ways, one already half-unwrapped, slide around in the box.

“Cool,” Dean says. “Don’t get a stomachache.”

“They’re gonna get stomachaches,” Al says ruefully as Sam and Katie bounce down the driveway to hit the next house. “We should steal some of their candy, y’know, just to protect them.”

The word protect briefly jolts Dean out of his growing sense of relaxation and he sneakily pats his chest, feeling the sheathed knife tucked away in the inside pocket. He makes sure he can still see Sammy (now bounding up the walkway of the next house), and takes a breath. Everything’s under control.

“You okay?” Al’s looking at him with his eyebrows drawn together, a lock of dark hair falling into the crease. He has nice hair, Dean decides. Floppy and kind of messy, squished flat in the middle by the band of the pipe cleaner halo.

“Yep,” he says, forcing the cheer into his voice. If Al notices, he doesn’t say anything. They continue to follow their siblings through the neighborhood, leaving some distance so they can talk. Al tells Dean about school, that he likes science and hates history, that his favorite band is Journey, that he wants to play soccer but his dad wants him to play football, and that he wants to be a veterinarian.

“I like cars,” Dean says in response. “I’m not great at school. Not sure what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Not sure how to tell you that I’ll probably be hunting monsters for the rest of my life.

Al leans on the picket fence of the house that they’re currently waiting outside. “You could be a teacher,” he says.

Dean narrows his eyes at him in confusion. “I just told you I’m bad at school.”

Al shrugs. “My favorite teacher says he didn’t like school. That’s why he’s so good at helping us. He gets it.”

The heavy layer of clouds above them breaks, and a ray of moonlight lands across Al’s face. They’re standing between streetlights, so the silvery glow makes Al’s blueish eyes gleam. Dean finds he has to breathe a little harder than normal. He shakes his head.

“Nah, if anyone’s gonna be a teacher, it’s Sammy. He’s really smart.”

Al hums and pushes off the fence. Sam and Katie are moving on again. “I don’t know, man. You seem smart to me.” He pats Dean on the shoulder, the warmth of his hand seeping through Dean’s threadbare jacket.

In the relative darkness, Dean smiles so hard his eyes squeeze shut.

Eventually, they’ve stopped at every house in the neighborhood. Dean’s pockets are full of the candy that doesn’t fit into Sam’s overflowing first-aid kit. Al’s coat pockets are bulging, too. Sam and Katie run sugar-hyped circles under a streetlight while Dean and Al stand on the corner, looking at each other a bit awkwardly.

“Uh-- I’m glad we ran into you guys,” Al says finally. “You’re really cool.”

Dean’s glad that he’s the one facing away from the streetlight, because his cheeks heat up and probably look way pinker than they would from just the cold.

“You too,” he says. “Wish we lived around here.”

“Where do you live?” Al asks. “You know, just in case we ever take a road trip.”

Unless your destination’s my dad’s car, I don’t think you’re gonna run into me.

“Sioux Falls,” he says. “South Dakota. I live with my uncle.”

If Al finds that strange, he doesn’t pry. Dean could hug him. He wants to hug him.

Katie comes barrelling over, dragging her pillowcase of candy along the pavement. She’s huffing from running around, ghost sheet dangling half off her body. “Al, I’m soooo tired.” She flops against her brother. Sam comes trotting up behind her and grins at Dean. Dean tries to smile back, but there’s a lump in his throat, something that’s making it hard to breathe.

Al pats Katie on the head. “We should probably go home, anyway. It’s getting late.”

Still taking tight little breaths, Dean nods. “Uh-- yeah, us too. See if Sam can sleep off the sugar rush.”

“How long are you staying with your grandparents?” Al asks.

Dean looks at his feet. Weighs the pros and cons of sneaking out again. He’d have to take Sam; there aren’t actually any grandparents who could watch him.

He can’t risk it.

“We’re going home tomorrow morning,” he says, every word dropping like lead. Sam shoots him a confused look, but he ignores it.

Unless he’s imagining it, Al’s face seems to fall. “Aw, too bad. Wait! Hang on.” He rummages through his candy-heavy pockets until he pulls out a little spiral notebook and a nub of a pencil. He writes something on a page and rips it out. He hands it to Dean.

“Our phone number,” he says with a little smile. He steps forward and the streetlight catches his eyes again. Dean thinks that in the sunlight, they’d be bright blue. Al gestures at the paper. “You’ve got a phone at your uncle’s, right? Maybe you can call me sometime.”

There are way too many feelings jumbling around in Dean’s chest for him to say anything coherent, so he just nods. Al smiles wider. “Cool. I’m happy we met you.” He takes one more step forward and — Dean stops breathing altogether — wraps his arms briefly around Dean’s shoulders. He’s very warm. His hair smells good. Dean’s brain doesn’t catch up quite in time, and he misses his chance to hug back. The edge of Al’s halo brushes Dean’s forehead as he pulls away.

“Thanks for hanging out,” Al says, putting his arm around Katie’s shoulders and turning to go. “Have a good drive back home!”

Dean clears his throat. “Bye, guys,” he says lamely. Sam waves enthusiastically to make up for it. They stand under the streetlight for a long few minutes, watching Al and Katie go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam manages to eat every piece of candy by Thursday morning, which is the day they’re supposed to hear from John. Dean makes him eat canned vegetable soup in between meals of Mars bars and Skittles. They scrounge the motel room for wrappers, tossing them all into a big garbage bag that Dean’s going to throw into the dumpster outside. He finishes folding the laundry, counts the money to make sure it’s all there, re-packs the first aid kit, and puts the sheet back on the bed without the safety pins.

Anytime the unease creeps in about having broken the rules, he looks at his brother’s shining face and pushes it back down. He and Sam rehearse their story in case John asks them what they did and Sam even finishes all of his worksheets. Dean folds them up and hides them at the very bottom of his duffle. He tells Sam he put them into the mailbox in the motel office.

And every few hours, he pulls the folded little piece of notebook paper out of his pocket and looks at it. In careful handwriting, Al had written:

Alan Montgomery

(from Halloween. I hope you call.)

And his phone number.

Thursday afternoon, Dean takes the candy-wrapper garbage bag out to the parking lot. At the last second, he pulls Al’s note out of his jeans. After a long moment of reading and re-reading it, he gently folds it back up and tosses it into the bag. He throws the whole thing into the dumpster.

But not before memorizing the number.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John gets home late Thursday night. Before they check out of the motel on Friday, John sits Dean down on the toilet seat in the bathroom and pulls out his electric clippers.

While John has his back turned, plugging in the clippers by the sink, Dean pushes his hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands bunch up between his fingers and fall back down onto his ears. He remembers Al’s messy hair brushing his cheek when they hugged.

John flips the clippers on and the buzzing fills the bathroom. For the second time, Dean is glad that the mirror is shattered.

With every lock of hair that tumbles to the ground, Dean recites Al’s number in his head.

“There,” John says gruffly, after the floor and Dean’s lap are littered with honey brown strands. “You look like a man again.”

Dean stands up, brushing off his jeans. His head feels cold. “I’ll get a broom,” he says.

He’s halfway out the bathroom door when John says “Dean.”

Dean freezes, already wondering where he left a wrapper, how John found the garbage bag, if Sam let something slip. He slowly turns back. John’s wrapping the cord around the clippers.

“I need you to come on the next hunt. We’ll drop Sam off at Bobby’s.”

Bobby’s, where the telephone is. Dean’s heart beats hard for a different reason now. He tries to look casual. “Are we gonna stay for a bit?”

John’s already shaking his head before Dean’s done talking. He pushes past him and drops the clippers into his duffel bag on the bed. “No. We’ll be on the road for a while.” He stops and looks at Dean. “Weren’t you going to find a broom?”

Dean loads a dustpan with his hair and empties it on top of the garbage bag in the dumpster.

He whispers Al’s number again.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 12

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2588

Warnings:  Pregnancy, mentions of past child abuse

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 12: Confrontations

It took a lot of legal toing and froing to get to an agreed time for my parents to come.  They were reluctant to agree to the terms of having lawyers present or having the meeting here at their expense.  They ended up agreeing to everything because, in the end, it was them wanting something from me, not the other way around.  By the time it was all arranged and the meeting was happening my morning sickness had well and truly kicked in.

There were now three of us with morning sickness and it made for some awkward mornings.  For starters, we could set each other off.  If Natasha or I had morning sickness, it always made Wanda’s worse.  Natasha could hear someone throwing up, but if she saw it, we had to move or she’d be throwing up on top of us.  It was a good thing we had lots of bathrooms, and it was becoming a little more common for the three of us to decide not to spend the whole night together for fear of setting each other off in the morning.  Not always, we usually had a little warning before it got bad, but if there had a few days in a row where we were all very ill, we would take a break.

A whole array of temporary house rules had been established because different things set us off.  Coffee had to be drunk in the kitchen away from me and Wanda.  All the shampoo and conditioner was now unscented and we had found exactly one brand of soap we could agree on.  Bucky and Tony weren’t allowed to wear their preferred aftershave.  No bacon at all in the house.

On the day I was supposed to meet with them I woke up and immediately dashed to the bathroom, emptying my stomach of its contents and then just dry heaving.  Bruce followed me in, having shifted into just Bruce.  While I threw up he held my hair back off my face and when it was clear I had nothing left he wet a washcloth with cold water and wiped my brow and down the back of my neck.

“It seems extra bad today,” he said.  “I missed it last time.  Is this just how it is or are you stressed about today and it's making it worse?”

I shook my head and pressed my forehead to the cold tiles on the wall.  “It was bad last time too, but I was also stressed then, wasn't I?”

“Right,” he said.  “Of course.  What can I do?”

“Help me up?” I asked.

He helped me to my feet and started the shower.  I ran my fingers through the threads from me to the others.  My morning sickness had set Wanda’s off and Sam was currently with her as she threw up in the bathroom down the hall.  Natasha was in bed with Clint and Bucky all of them were awake and she wasn’t feeling great.  Steve and Tony were downstairs with the twins, while Thor was just getting up.  He appeared in the bathroom and began to strip his underwear off.

“Perhaps I should go to Asgard and get some elixir for the three of you.  It works much better for nausea than the pills you’ve been taking,” he said.

“That might be a good idea,” I agreed as I stepped into the water.

Bruce and Thor followed me in and Bruce grabbed the shampoo and began to work it through my hair.  “Are you sure you want to go through with this today?”  Bruce asked.

I shook my head.  “No,” I said, feeling myself tense up again, even as Bruce’s fingers worked over my scalp.  “But I’m going to anyway.  Better I end this.”

Thor cradled my jaw and tilted my head up to look him in the eyes.  “You are in the position of power now,” he said.  “Do not let them return you to that frightened child you once were.  You are not that little girl anymore and stressing so much is not good for the baby.”

I gave a small nod and he leaned down and brought his lips to mine.  I relaxed into him and Bruce kissed my shoulder gently.  I pulled back and sighed. There was a huge part of me that wanted to forget everything.  To just have shower sex so that it might chase off the last of my nausea and then to head downstairs and have a nice normal day with the people I’d chosen to spend it with.  Instead, I ran my hand down Thor’s chest and gave a small nod.  “Okay.  I better get a move on.”

I showered and took a long time deciding what I wanted to wear.  The last time my parents had seen me in person I was 16 and goth.  I didn’t know if right now the image I wanted to go for was professional or more me.  I didn’t want to give them a reason to think for a second I was there in a casual capacity.  I didn’t want them to have a reason to pick at me.  But at the same time, I didn’t want them to think I’d turned out to be the person they wanted me to be.

I ended up opting to dress how I wanted to.  This wasn’t a trial.  This was my parents and they needed to see me how I was now.  I put on a black romper with a sheer duster that attached at the waist and had a Maleficent print.  I did my hair and makeup and headed downstairs to breakfast with Thor and Bruce who had now shifted into his midway form.  Wanda was in the dining room eating a millet porridge next to Sam who had a plate of eggs and sausage.  The kids were in the living area watching cartoons with Clint, Bucky, and the puppies, while Steve, Natasha, and Tony sat on the couches near the spiral staircases.

Steve, Tony, and Natasha stood as I came down and followed me over to the table.  “You’re sure you want to do this?”  Steve asked.

I took a seat and grabbed myself some toast and chuckled.  “Already had this conversation today.” 

“Right,” Steve said.  “Well.  Just remember we’re all up here if you need us. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll support you.”

“Thank you, Steve,” I said and sipped my tea.  “You’re making it sound like I’m going to negotiate for national security.”

He chuckled and rubbed my arm.  “I know, sweetheart,” he said.  “But I know how anxious this has made you.  It’s a big deal.”

“Thanks,” I repeated.  “I don’t think I can handle another pep talk though.  I just want it over with.”

“Have they arrived yet, FRIDAY?”  Natasha asked.

“They’re just going through security now,” the AI replied.

Bruce seemed to panic a little and just started shoving food into his mouth.  I laughed and patted his arm.  “Relax.  They can wait.  Take your time.”

“Thanks, El,” he chuckled and slowed back down again.

It took a little while for Bruce to finish eating and it made me spitefully happy thinking about my dad trying not to lose his mind while I made him wait.  When he was done everyone stood and they walked me to the elevator.

“If they want money, you can give it to them,” Tony said, just as the elevator door opened.  “Pay them off and get them out of your life again.”

I shook my head.  “I don’t want that, Tony,” I said. “If they want money, they’re out of my life.”

He nodded and he, Natasha, and Steve kissed me goodbye, and Wanda, Bruce, and I caught the elevator down.  Wanda took my hand wordlessly, and when she did that, Bruce placed a large hand on my back so that his fingers curled around my side.  The elevator stopped and we were greeted by three of Tony’s legal team.

“Doctor Cooper, your parents are waiting through here,” one said and led us through into the conference room.

My mom and dad and their lawyer stood as soon as we came in.  They’d aged so much since I’d seen them.  Dad was going bald and his hair was more grey than brown, and mom was clearly dying her hair.  Seeing them, even as different as they looked, only made me think of him hitting me and her telling me that's just how men were and I should expect it from my husband too.  There was no thread between me and my father and the one to my mother was so faint I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not.  I knew then it didn't matter what else happened today, these people weren't my family, and I wasn't going to let them back in my life.  Not how they were.

“Elise,” mom said, taking a step forward and holding out her hands.

One of our lawyers cleared his throat.  “We have organized this meeting at the request of Mr. and Mrs. Cooper but it should be clear, Doctor Cooper has no desire to rekindle any kind of relationship with her abusers.”

“Elise...” my mother said, furrowing her brow.

I took a seat and everyone else sat down too, Wanda and Bruce flanking me on each side.

“Well, here I am,” I said.  “Tell me what it is you want.”

Mom looked at dad who just folded his arms over his chest.  “We want our daughter back,” Mom said.  “You ran away, we didn’t kick you out.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.  “I left because he was beating me and you were grooming me.”

“Honey, I know your father could lose his temper…” Mom implored.

I felt Bruce tense and he leaned forward over the table.  “No, I think you’re mistaken.  I can lose my temper.  Your husband beats helpless children,” he growled and balled his fist.

My parents blanched and scooted back in their chairs.  I placed my hand on his arm as he sat back in the chair.  Mom looked at dad and nudged him.  He scowled and let out a breath in a huff.

“Elise, you know I love you,” he said.  “I’m sorry for the things I did.  I was sorry when I did them.  I want us to have a relationship.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.  “And despite the fact that for over six years where I was has been a topic of media coverage, and for the six years before that, I wasn’t even hiding and had my name on academic papers but you’ve only chosen now I’ve married one of the richest men on the planet to try and get in contact, that’s a coincidence?”

“It’s not a coincidence,” he said.  “We saw you get married and we realized we should have been there.”

“So you could be seen hobnobbing with the rich and powerful?”  I hissed.

Wanda put her hand on my arm and I looked at her, her eyes glowed pink.  ‘He’s not exactly lying.  There are some things there about the connections they could make, but they have missed you,’ she sent.

‘Have they changed?’ I sent back and she shrugged in response.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  “I don’t think I want that,” I said.  “What you did to me, how I was the family scapegoat, the way you would hurt me and then buy my forgiveness, how you’d make me lie to people about my injuries so you wouldn’t get in trouble, how nothing I did was good enough for you; those things fucked me up for so long.  They made me doubt whether anyone could love me.  They made it hard for me to trust anyone.  I can’t accept gifts from people without expecting that some kind of pain will be attached to it.  You made me feel like I was worthless and it took a long time to retrain myself to know that I wasn’t.  I can’t have you back in my life because I don’t want to be reminded of how the people whose job it was to love me couldn’t even do that.”  I had told myself they weren't going to make me cry, that they didn't get to see how they were still able to hurt me, but by the end of my rant I was openly weeping.  Wanda had taken my hand and was holding it tightly and Bruce was caressing my back.

“I'm sorry, Elise.  I'm sorry we made you feel like that.  I'm sorry I never stopped him,” mom said.

“You're still with him!” I shouted.  “And Amanda looked scared.  Why was she scared about going back to you alone?  Why are you still with the man who broke your daughter's bones on multiple occasions?  Wasn't it your job to protect me from that?”

Mom opened and closed her mouth like a fish and dad has stiffened up in his chair.  “Now look here, Elise,” he huffed.

“No!” I shouted.  “You look here!  You don't get to be part of my life anymore.  You aren't my father.  You forfeited that when you first shattered the bones in my arm.  I don't care if you've genuinely changed.  You had sixteen years to show me you loved me, but all you taught me was self-loathing, pain, and fear.  I won't let you do that to me again!  I want nothing to do with you!”  I turned to my mother and she flinched from me.  “If you do honestly want a relationship with me, that might be possible.  Under these conditions; you leave dad.  Completely.  If you need help, I will do that, but you're not to have any contact with him outside of divorce lawyers.  You will get therapy.  I can help with that too.  Then I'll let you see me.  If things go well I'll let you meet some of the others and eventually the kids.  But know this, this is me, mother.  I am a bisexual woman in a relationship with nine people.  These aren't my friends, they are my lovers.  We have children together.  I did not follow your life plan of marrying rich and being a good housewife.”

“Elise!” Dad snapped and had he used that voice a moment ago I probably would have cowered like a kicked dog.  Something had snapped in me though.  I was well and truly done.  I knew who I was and what I was worth and I would not be afraid of him ever again.

I got up ignoring him and I looked at the lawyers.  “I’m done here.  I'd appreciate it if one of you would sort out getting a restraining order set up against my dad, for both me and the kids.”

“Of course,” the one closest to me said.  “We’ll get that started right away.”

I turned back to my parents and folded my arms.  “Goodbye,” I said.  “I'd say it was nice seeing you, but you never did like it when I lied.”

I strode out of the room followed by Wanda and Bruce and when we were out Bruce scooped me up into his arms like a doll and hugged me.  “I am so proud of you,” he rumbled.

“Me too, Elly,” Wanda said, rubbing my leg.  “You were amazing.”

“Okay, okay!” I said, snuggling into Bruce’s chest.  “Take me back to my real family.”

Bruce chuckled and hoisted me up onto his shoulder. “You've got it,” he said.

// NEXT

[wormstacheangel]

Day12:Rewind

Word Count:1260

Summary: This is actually a part 2 to Day 11:Rock & Roll. I don’t know why I decided to do that but here we are. The reason why Cas pulled Dean into the Impala. It’s just a bunch of fluff.

----

A Boston song was playing in the background as they let the night drift. Dean was laying on top of Cas, mostly because Cas can handle Dean’s complete weight on him, with only the trench coat covering his bare ass. His dead man robe fell somewhere on the floor of the impala and it was too far to reach for when he was completely spent. Too much has happened in the last few hours. 

One, he kissed Cas for the first time in the front seat of his Baby. Two, he had sex with Cas right after in the back seat of his Baby because Dean likes doing things nice and slow apparently. Three, Sam may have walked in on them but he was a tad bit busy to check if it was actually him. He only hoped it wasn’t Jack because that kid has enough to talk about in therapy. Adding seeing his Dad’s doing it shouldn’t be added to the list. 

Now Dean was laying on top of Cas with a happy sigh escaping his lips every few seconds while Cas’s fingers played in his hair. He would kiss whatever skin he could reach making Cas silently chuckle and Dean loved feeling his body shake underneath him. He never thought he would be here like this with Cas. Sure, he wished and dreamed of this moment for years but there was always something or someone stopping them from making a damn move but now, fuck now, there was nothing hanging over their heads. 

They can finally be happy and Dean won’t let his own damn panic or trauma stop him from having this with Cas. Enjoying this moment with every damn cell in his body because it was all he wanted to have with the angel. The soft touches. The long kisses. The shared breaths. The awkward giggling. The loving looks that didn’t scare him to the bone so he’ll have to look away. Now he can look back at Cas with the same damn puppy eyes because fuck he loved him. He loved him so damn much and he wasn’t going to let Cas go ever again.

“I love you.” Dean said again as he tilted his chin up so he could press a quick kiss just under Cas’s jaw. It seemed to tickle him and Dean loved seeing him shiver every single time. 

Cas hand pulled at his hair gently to tilt Dean’s head just enough so Cas can give him a soft lingering kiss. It made Dean’s toes curl and head swim, especially when he felt Cas’s other hand sliding down his back to cup his ass. 

“I love you.” Cas whispered against his lips and then they were laying still again. Letting the music and their breathing fill up the car. Dean’s ear pressed against Cas’s chest and for the first time he realized that Cas’s heart does beat. His chest rises up and down as he breaths. Dean forgets that this was a warrior of God as he closes his eyes to listen and match every breath. 

This was Cas. Castiel was the badass angel that their enemy’s might know and fear but the guy who was just panting his name a few minutes ago was just Cas. His Cas.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I did have a reason for bringing you out here.”

Dean pushed himself up just a little so he could look down at the angel’s face. Striking blue eyes, flushed cheeks, pink swollen lips, and sex hair that reminded him of when they first meet. “It wasn’t just to get in my pants?”

“No.” Castiel chuckled as his hand squeezed his ass in response. “That was a very enjoyable but unexpected surprise.”

Dean folded his arms on Cas’s chest and rested his chin on them. His fingers running over Cas’s bottom lip as he talked. “Then what’s up? What was so important that it couldn’t wait till morning?”

Cas pressed a soft kiss on Dean’s finger as he made eye contact and it really just drove him crazy. How did he go all these years without this?

“I want to become human.”

Dean only blinked at him. This is not what he thought they would be talking about after sex or…ever really.

“Wow. Wait. Rewind. Human?” Dean asked while he tried to let his mind catch up. Cas only nodded while he frowned. Dean couldn’t let that happen so he reached down and kissed that frown away before asking. “Like full on human? No harp or anything?”

Cas rolled his eyes playfully but smiled as he said, “No harp. No halo. Just...human. Just me without the bells and whistles, like you say.”

He loved it the few minutes he had Cas like that after the fall. It scared the shit out of him but he thought that if they were on an even playing field, aka same species, then maybe Dean had a chance but that didn’t end up going so well. Cas had to leave and Dean had to be the one to kick him out. Cas’s face still haunts him. They almost kissed after the whole babysitting thing gone wrong but it felt wrong to do so back then when Cas was so vulnerable. 

Still Cas was an angel. Dean was a worried mess when he was human and alone but now Cas won’t be alone. He was already staying in the bunker. He has his own room where he started to fill up with pictures, books, and plants. Cas would be a human with a home. With Dean.

“I wanted your opinion on it first.” Cas continued as his hand went from his hair down to gently caress his cheek. “We haven’t had someone trying to actively kill us in a while so I figured I can-if you let me of course- grow old with you.”

“With me?” Dean let himself lean into the tender touch before he opened his eyes he didn’t even know he closed. “Wait, did you plan on me jumping your bones tonight? Or-”

“I was going to be human and by your side even if it wasn’t going to be like this.” Cas reaches forward to press a kiss on the tip of Dean’s nose. “I want to be by your side, Dean. I don’t care if it’s as a friend or much more. I just want to be with you.”

“But you’re an angel, Cas.”

“A bad one.”

“Cas,”

“Dean, I’ve been thinking about this so much after we took care of Chuck. I want to be happy. The Empty made me realize how unhappy I truly was but you,” Cas reached and pressed a kiss on his lips this time. “You stupid man-”

“Hey!”

“You make me happy, Dean. You and our family here in the bunker.” Cas brushes his hand on Dean’s cheek again, not his ass cheek but his other hand was still there. Might as well brand his ass with Cas’s hand by the way he was holding him. “Please, Dean, let me grow old with you?”

“Fuck,” Dean says as he leans down to take Cas into another kiss. Then Dean started to kiss his cheeks. His nose. His forehead. Every inch of his face while Cas giggled, an honest to god giggle that Dean wanted to hear more of for the rest of his life. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, Cas.” He dropped his forehead to Cas’s own. “Yeah, let’s become old men together.”

“Well technically we’re already-”

“Shuddup.”

They smiled through their next kiss. Well next few kisses.

[glenncoco4]

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Chapter 2

••••

18 years later...

She steps into the gym, immediately sensing something in the air shift. It’s not a bad shift more like a welcomed shift, almost the same feeling whenever she enters a room that he’s in. Taking a quick scan across the room, her eyes land on a familiar mop of golden blonde hair attached to a man who’s pounding away at a punching bag. 

Schooling her features, Kensi or “Tracy” strides over to a man that introduces himself as Janklow and begins talking about Danny, how she wanted to come to the place that her boyfriend talked so much about. 

Janklow drops his guard just enough, calling the rest of their teammates over to introduce her, including one Marty Deeks, only today his name isn’t Marty and he’s not her best friend. Today he’s Jason Wyler fighting for a spot on an MMA team full of Marines. 

••••

The three agents along with the tech operator and psychologist continue to stare at the monitor displayed with men from the gym, trying to figure out each ones possible motive to kill Zuna. 

Callen’s brow furrows, his focus solely on the shaggy blonde. “What about Wyler?”

“He’s a bit sketchy.” She sends herself a mental high-five as she pictures her best friend’s reaction at her quip. “But he’s definitely not our guy.”

“He’ doesn’t fit in with the others. What makes you so sure its not him?” Sam questions, turning his attention to the brunette agent. 

She shrugs, trying to remain nonchalant. “It’s just a feeling.”

The team leader share a look with his partner. “Or maybe its his baby blues.”

“Or his fluffy hair.” The ex-Navy SEAL finishes. 

She huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “Listen, guys, I’m telling you, it’s not him.”

“Tell us, what makes you so sure.” Nate finally interjects, wondering what she saw in the blonde. 

She wasn’t sure if she was going to have to out her friend but now she knows she does, there’s no way around it because if she doesn’t her best friend could end up hurt so she takes a deep breath. “Because his name isn’t Jason Wyler, it’s Marty Deeks and he’s an LAPD Detective.”

Callen’s eyes widen in shock. “And you know this because...”

“I was with him when he got his promotion.”

All four men’s brows simultaneously furrow in confusion.

Knowing they’re not going to give up until she gives them a little more, she relents. “He’s my best friend, the person I trust most in the world. He’s not our guy.”

The confidence in which she says it must be enough for the leader because he just shares aa look with his partner before turning back to her, trust written in both their eyes. “Okay.”

••••

Kensi’s just about to open Zuna’s laptop, when the doorknob starts to jiggle. Slowly reaching for the small of her back, where her weapon is secured, she watches as the door slowly opens and is caught off guard for the second time that day.

His cerulean blues widen in surprise when he meets her mismatched chocolate orbs for the second time that day. He really missed her, but that’s besides the point right now. “What the hell are you doing around here?”

“We’re investigating Zuna’s death. What are you doing here?”

“I’m undercover.”

“No shit.”

Before anything else can be said, Callen steps in from the kitchen, joining the two childhood friends. 

“Marty this is Special Agent G Callen. Callen this is Detective Marty Deeks.”

The team leader takes the detective’s offered hand in greeting. “So I hear you know Kensi.”

“Yeah, know might be a bit of an understatement.”

Callen watches in awe of his coworker exchanging a smile with the detective. He’s not certain, but something tells him that the two are fighting something that’s inevitable. “Well we don’t want to step in on your investigation but we do need to find out what happened to Zuna.”

“Understandable.”

“Can you tell us what you’re under for?”

Deeks shakes his head, knowing that someone from the gym could and most likely is watching them. “Not here. There’s been a couple guys coming in and out from the gym since I’ve been here. I can probably slip away in a few hours.”

“You got your cell on you?” Kensi questions her friend, already knowing the answer. 

“Just a burner.”

Callen nods in understanding. “Okay, give Kens your number and we’ll send you an address.” 

“Sure thing.” 

••••

She nearly jumps out of her skin when there’s a knock at the window. He’s definitely gonna pay for that later. Rolling down the window, Kensi see’s the confusion on his face.

“A Wendy’s, really?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well send you the address to the boat shed on a burner.”

When the words hit his ears, realization spreads across his face like an excited puppy that just got a new toy. “No!”

“Get in before I leave you here.”

Not having to be told twice, Marty hightails it around the SUV and quickly jumps in the passenger seat, shaking with excitement. “Kens, are you serious?”

Shaking her head, she checks her rear view as she slowly backs out of the parking lot. “I don’t know what your fascination with the boat shed is.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a secret hidey hole on the water, what’s not exciting about it?”

“Oh right, the Aquaman fantasy.”

“Okay, Miss I wanna fall in love on a ship and have sex in an old jalopy.”

She feigns shock and a little bit of outrage. “Hey, I told you that in confidence.”

“Yeah, but it’s slowly becoming my fantasy too so technically it’s okay.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her playfully. “Besides its just us here.”

Something in his demeanor feels a little flirty to her. Is she going crazy? When he flashes her a smile, she feels an unfamiliar surge of excitement run through her body. What the hell is going on?

He notices a look cross her features that he’s never seen before. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just...I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Kens.” Marty feels a sudden sense of contentment as he watches her look back to the road and sees the blush rise to her cheeks. There’s a fluttering in his chest that’s unfamiliar to him.  What the hell is happening?

••••

Deeks caught the team up on his op and all that was involved. He explained how Danny hadn’t come home the previous night, something about meeting up with this new girl Tracy. That earned him a famous Kensi trying not to smile, smile, which to be honest is one of his favorite things.

It didn’t go unnoticed by the other two agents in the room at the change in their coworker when she was around the detective. She seemed happier, like she wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

The rest of the case goes off without a hitch, NCIS gets their killer and LAPD gets their drug ring bust, but most importantly Marty gets to go home...to his own bed.

••••

There’s a knock at his door, a smile spreading to his lips knowing exactly who it is. He unlocks the deadbolt, twisting the knob and pulls it open. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Agent Blye.”

Kensi steps around him and into his apartment, case of their favorite beer in her hand. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shaggy Rogers.”

“Oh, touché.”

She sends him a smile over her shoulder and something washes over him. The spark in her mismatched orbs, is something he can’t quite describe. He shakes his head, trying to rid this unfamiliar feeling as she goes to the fridge, depositing the rest of the beer after taking two out. 

“Pizza should be here in 30 minutes.”

“You got-“

“Hawaiian, yeah, yeah, but only half.” She shivers with disgust at his preference for toppings as she hands him the bottle. 

“I would expect noting less.”

She squints her eyes, stepping up to him almost in a challenge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kensi Blye doesn’t eat any fruit unless its covered in chocolate.”

“I-I ate that apple that one time.”

“Only because your mom hadn’t gone to the store for groceries yet.”

She wants to retort but knows he’s right. So she steps around him, walking over to the couch, landing a soft punch to his shoulder on her way. “Just play the damn movie.”

“You’re the boss...KayKay.”

“I will kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re my best friend and the person I trust most in the world.”

“Clearly you’ve never seen Snapped.”

He shakes his head in disbelief, unable to stop the grin from appearing on his face. He missed this. He missed her and their banter. 

A sudden knock on the door draws him out of his trance. “I think maybe you should get it. I don’t really want to have my back turned to you right now.”

“Haha.” She steps over his legs, whacking him with his cat pillow as she heads for the door. When she pulls it open, the last person she’d ever think it would be is standing there, all four foot and nine inches of her. “Hetty?”

“Miss. Blye.”

“Come in.”

Kensi ushers her boss into the apartment, eyes wide as saucers as she locks on with his. 

Sending him a hint of a smile, Hetty takes a seat in the chair next to the couch. “Hello, Mr. Deeks.”

“Hello, Ms. Lange.”

“Please, call me Hetty.”

“What can I do for you, Hetty?”

“Actually its more what I can do for you.”

Kensi’s brow furrows along with Marty’s as the OSP manager hands the detective a manila folder.  

Opening it he’s a little caught off guard when he sees all his information spread out before him. Everything from his statement from when Donald Blye saved him and his mother all the way to his most recent case. “Wow, Kensi was right. You are a secret ninja lady.”

The brunette feels the heat rise to her cheeks, feeling the scrutiny of her boss’s gaze fall on her. 

Shaking her head, a tiny smile curls at the old woman’s lips. “It’s clear to me that you two work quite well together...even better than Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna.”

“Tell us something we don’t already know.” Marty playfully nudges his best friend, trying to get a smile out of her but is unsuccessful. Instead her features are unreadable. What Hetty’s asking would be a huge deal...monumental. I mean working with his best friend, not going under by himself anymore, working with a team...with her. “Can I think about it?”

Kensi’s eyes find his, trying to figure out which way he’s leaning. She can tell he’s holding back because of her, he doesn’t want to over step. He deserves this, a team and people that will truly watch his back and selfishly she wants to be the one to do it and he do the same for her. 

He sees the hopefulness in her eyes and knows the same is mirrored in his own. Getting a nod of approval from his best friend, he turns to his new boss with a smile. “I’m in.”

After he signs the form, Hetty gladly takes the folder back from their new liaison before taking her leave. “Well then as I understand it, you have a major undercover you’re working on and when the time comes you’ll get pulled back in but in the mean time, you’ll be reporting to OSP.”

“Thanks, Hetty.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” She sends them each a smile, showing herself to the door. 

Once the door click shut, Kensi turns to her best friend and now partner...he’s her partner. She can’t help the Cheshire Cat like grin on her face. “We’re gonna be partners.”

Unable to stop himself, Marty closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her in hug that’s so familiar to them its like second nature. “We’re gonna be partners.”

••••

The following Monday had Kensi leading her best friend, now partner into the OSP Headquarters. She couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at her lips as she watched the shaggy blonde in his awestruck wonder as she showed him around the building. 

Their first case together is a high profile missing persons case which results in Kensi being held captive but like always, her partner along with Sam and Callen has her back and they live to see another day. 

••••

He’s waiting at the car for his partner when the buzzing from his phone draws his attention. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the offending object and immediately rolls his eyes as he reads the caller ID. “Bates, what do ya got?”

As his Lieutenant fills him in on what’s going on, Marty’s brow furrows and his body deflates, his eyes catching those of his best friend as she walks towards him with a bright smile on her face. One thing he hates most is having to cancel plans with her.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

She waits until he hangs up the phone, her eyes meeting his, already knowing that their plans to go to the music festival this weekend are trashed. 

“I’m not gonna make it in tomorrow. Bates just called me, undercover op we’ve been working on and I finally got my in.”

A sad smile crosses her face, she knows its not his fault. This is what they signed up for. “The sex-trafficking case?”

“Yeah.” 

“When do you leave?”

“Tonight.”

“Okay.”

Her reaction is something he can’t quite describe. He knows what he wants it to be, but he’s just not sure. One thing he knows for sure is that now is not the time to lay it all out on the table. “Kens-“

“You’ll be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She scolds herself for letting her emotions slip, he doesn’t need this right now. He needs to be focused on his mission, but if she can get a little more time with him, she’ll gladly take it. “Do you have time to grab something to eat before you leave?”

He throws his arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss to the top of her head as they turn to walk towards the pier. “Always have time for you.”

There’s something about this goodbye that shifts their entire relationship, what it may be, they’re not sure. One thing is certain though, their lives are even more intertwined than they thought.

[possiblypeachy]

Helloo, so i loooved your last sam drake fic. & I wanted to ask you if you could write a really angsty fanfic about sam with a younger female reader, like 20 years younger (she would be 23) ? I know its a huge age gap so if that makes you uncomfortable you can leave it out but make it hella angsty still (with a fluffy ending) ? thanks in advance ❤

btw im an infp too ;)

infps rise up!! 

thank you muchly for the request! i had to make some interesting google searches for this and i always count that as a win in my book!

y’know when your brain feel like a static TV? yeah, that happened to mine while writing this so i apologise in advance if this is in no way what you asked for :( HOWEVER i do hope you enjoy nonetheless! i do love sam; he’s just a little bastard :,)

warning: this details a heavy injury + a hospital trip so please don’t read on it that makes you feel horrible or anything! also, the reader is younger than same (as requested) but it’s not a like huge aspect of the plot.

if others like this too, feel free to request something from me! 

― ❊ ―

You had always been interested in the hidden corners of the world. For a species that boasted about being the most intelligent, humans knew so achingly little about the world in which they lived. So, when you decided adventure called to you more than any kind of degree could, you put out a few ads in a couple of places and a certain Drake wrote back, enlisting your help with… artefact recovery. You hadn’t expected so many gunfights or bruises or those dreaded mosquitos but you certainly didn’t regret the job, coming away with a few pirate-branded gold coins and a 40-something-year-old partner-in-crime.

You probably could’ve set up for life with those coins alone-- lived a quiet life in a suburb somewhere, joined a dating app and found the love of your life, adopted a puppy, maybe-- but when Sam had called you a month or so after your Madagascan escapade, that same excitement in his voice that you’d become so accustomed to, you didn’t even need a few days to consider before asking him when the next flight was.

Now, to say that going on this rodeo was a good idea could’ve been a lie; you were still young and sprightly, and many would beg (if they even got the chance) for you to reconsider-- oh, but you have such a long life ahead of you, why are you taking it for granted?

Screw them. You’d seen more beautiful things in the past year than they would in their entire lives. So what if you had a couple of scars and scrapes to prove it; it simply adds character.

Well… perhaps this particular scrape would change your perspective on that.

You and Sam had encountered one of those forsaken puzzle things; a series of statues and corresponding paintings behind them. Each held a dagger and held their hand out to shake, a conniving little smirk etched into the grey stone. You had been so achingly confident of the answer-- nothing had gone wrong so far and you were feeling chipper. So, when you called out to Sam that you’d solved it before him, that cocky little quirk to your lips that made him huff out a laugh and shake his head, you didn’t expect his face to drop so quickly, eyes darting from your smile to your abdomen.

There was a sudden, burning pain, and you lurched forwards toward the statue, placing one hand on its shoulder to keep yourself upright. Everything seemed to blur when you looked down, the jewelled dagger now withdrawing from your gut covered in blood. The statue looked as if it had never moved, if you discounted the bloodied weapon it held and the small pool that had accumulated at the base of it. Your free hand, shaking, came down to try to stop yourself from bleeding, fingers almost immediately red and warm. “Sam--” His name was coughed out, the tension it caused making you cry out in pain.

He had seen your smile drop, your eyes widen, the blood bloom across your shirt. He had watched the statue withdraw, that grin it held now dangerous. Oh, fuck. This couldn’t be happening. Sam had promised everyone-- he had promised you that nothing like this would happen. Of course he had fucked it. 

He was already there. He had been there immediately but, beyond the pain and shock, you hadn’t realised. “Holy shit! (Name)?” His hand came to your shoulder and, at the contact, you nearly crumpled, as if his touch had brought you back to reality. Unfortunately, along with that came the more acute realisation of how much fucking pain you were in.

“Oh, fuck! God--” You curled over and vomited. Fuck, it hurt. The movement made you grab at your wound more, muscles trying to tense but just searing with pain instead. Lifting your arm to wipe your mouth felt so much more difficult, lethargy already settling in it seemed.

Sam muttered something to himself, tucking his shoulder under yours and using his arm to help keep you propped up. “We’ll be alright-- you’ll be alright. We just have to get back to the car and--” he cut off, swearing, at least you thought; everything sounded like it was underwater-- muffled and slowed. 

You let your head drop a little, face contorted in pain with each step you took. This wasn’t supposed to happen-- this was never supposed to happen. These trips were meant to be all beautiful vistas and treasure. You didn’t mind the occasional gunfight and, while being punched square in the nose didn’t feel great, you’d let it happen more if only to walk into more of these preserved pieces of history all over the globe. But, this? Fuck this. You should’ve been more prepared.

“Everyone said--” you groaned again and, when you were finally able to muster the strength to look at Sam, he glanced down at you with such panic in his eyes that it almost made your chest churn more than your stomach, “They said this shit would be bad for me.” The laugh you gave was painful and you regretted it immediately, stumbling over your own feet when you tried to hold your abdomen-- as if that would provide some kind of relief. It did not. 

Sam furrowed his brows, moving you slightly to make sure you didn’t slip from his grip. “No, no-- it’s alright! You still got life in you.” He tried to laugh but it didn’t sound like him and that just made you spiral a little faster. “There are still places that are out there waiting for you, okay?” Sam’s voice was rushed, like he was torn between trying to comfort you and just trying to get you both the fuck out of here. 

The light of the outside was blinding, the sun bright and unyielding overhead. Sam fumbled with the keys in his back pocket and then there were the telltale beeps of a car being unlocked. The sound made him flinch but you were beyond that, wanting more than anything to just sleep. It was hard to focus on anything else, actually.

Sam bundled you into the back seat and you groaned at the way your body had to twist and curve into the backseat. Every breath hurt; it was like reliving the injury each time you inhaled. Your hand was blood-covered now but your shaking had died down. It took too much energy to shake-- Hell, it took way too much to even lift your eyelids again after each blink. 

When the driver’s door slammed, you jolted slightly-- like someone had dragged you out of the very early stages of sleep. “Sam,” you began, voice quiet; it was as though you were in another universe entirely, “are we gonna…” you trailed off, forgetting where you were. It was strange: you felt like the pain was subsiding. It was almost… peaceful. 

The car lurched into motion and you saw him glance at you through the rearview mirror. You thought he might’ve been saying something to you, his free hand reaching back to get your attention. Black encroached on your vision and your head lolled backwards briefly but you pulled it forward again soon after as though it were attached to some kind of bungee rope. Is this what dying felt like? 

Maybe you were okay with this. It was calm-- quiet, even. It was almost like the pain had become an afterthought-- a dull thrum in your abdomen. You would miss this, though: the adventures. You would miss the fact that everything seemed more colourful in other countries. You would miss the sweet tang of sea air and how free you felt on the open sea. Despite the blur in your vision, you tried to focus on Sam and his helpless mumbling. Tears welled in your eyes. God, you would miss him too. 

The next time you blinked, your eyes stayed closed.

---

A steady beeping woke you up. That and a horrible white light beating against your eyelids. You tried to groan but even that was difficult with how… disused your voice felt. A chair creaked to your right and then--

“(Name)?” 

It was him.

“Sam…” Trying to sit up was like an instinct but a hand came to your shoulder to keep you down. It was then that you finally opened your eyes, pupils struggling against the light. “Did you find the treasure?”

He breathed out a laugh-- almost like relief. “If you count shitty hospital coffee and the most uncomfortable chair ever as treasure, then yes.”

Your brows furrowed. “Hospital?” The strain on your voice made you cough. This was a bad reflex on your part. An ache flared up again in your lower stomach, and your arm flew there to support the injury. Now, everything was starting to come back. “Ah, shit. I remember. God.”

Beside you, his lips pursed. “Yeah. Almost got bested by a statue, honey.”

You gave him a look and he smiled. Despite his words, the normalcy of it all was comforting. “I may be bed-ridden but I’ll still hit you, old man.” There it was: that smile of yours. He struggled to even feign offence with how relieved he felt at seeing it. In fact, if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, he might’ve welled up a little. “Sam?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He rubbed his face before leaning onto your bed. “I was just worried, is all.”

He looked like he had done more than worried; the dark around his eyes told you of that. Quiet fell over you for a few moments and Sam took to rubbing your leg over the array of hospital blankets piled atop you. It was nice, comforting, and for a time you just allowed yourself to be. 

That was until he swallowed loudly-- nervously-- and withdrew his hand. “(Name), I, uh--” he cleared his throat-- not because he needed to but just so he could have a couple more seconds to think about what he was going to say, “I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I know that you’d disagree, but I’m not sure you should--”

You groaned as you shifted yourself up the bed, cutting him off. You knew what he was going to say: that you shouldn’t come on the next trip with him. That would turn into only the occasional call between the two of you, asking about his most recent escapades-- if had any spots open on the crew next time, to which he would decline. Then, there would only be texts-- a barren waste of white space between messages and timestamps that began to highlight the weeks and months between each text. “Don’t, Sam.” His brows furrowed and you pointed a finger at him, accusing. “I know what you’re going to say and I’m not going to listen to you.”

He pursed his lips briefly then pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “You could’ve died. You can’t just fuckin’ die--” he leant forward so his ranting wouldn’t disturb any other hospital dwellers, “You can’t die yet; you’re-- what?-- twenty-three?”

“Oh, fuck off, Sam! I’m not a child; I can handle myself!”

In one gesture towards your injury, he had messed up. “Obviously fuckin’ not!”

Silence. Your mouth was agape and he flinched back immediately. For how many times people told Sam to think before he spoke, he hadn’t seemed to have learnt. When the words settled in, you leant away from him, back into the cushions behind you. “I think you should go.”

He blinked once. And, then again. “What?”

You couldn’t even look at him. “Get out. I’ll call a nurse if i need help since I obviously can’t look after myself--”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, (Name)--”

“How did you fucking mean it then, Sam?” He stood from the chair and it creaked-- the only noise in the room. You didn’t even want to give him the chance to give an excuse. “Or, am I too much of a child to understand what you mean?” In the middle of his pacing, he turned to face you, simply staring despite your ceaseless ranting. “Sorry that I’m such a huge fucking inconvenience to you! It’s not like the same kind of shit has ever happened to you or anything, huh?” He watched as your eyes began to well, face etched with frustration and betrayal, words spat out of your mouth like they put a bad taste there.

He had to cut you off or else you would carry on; you shouldn’t feel like this right after… everything that happened. God, he was such a dick. He shouldn’t have brought this up-- not now at least-- and now look at you: almost crying because of him in a hospital bed thank to stab wound that you got because of him and-- “I don’t want you to get hurt again because I fuckin’ care about you, (Name), okay?” It was his turn to rant now and your turn to stare at him. “And-- and, I have no idea what I would do with myself if you-- if you had fuckin’--” the noise he made was a mix between a sigh and growl, like he was annoyed at himself, then he leant against the end of your bed. A few moments passed; you didn’t know if you were supposed to say something to him during this or not but all you could fathom doing was to just stare at him, dumbfounded. Then, he breathed out a simple: “I’m sorry. For being a dick.”

You swallowed, gaze flickering away from him briefly. Then, you huffed out a laugh-- a terrible mix of amusement and disbelief. “Glad you can recognise it, Sam.” He blinked at you, then shook his head; that certainly wasn’t the response he expected. Something more biting-- venomous--perhaps, but not that. You gestured back to the seat that he had pulled up beside you and, with some degree of caution, he sat down again. You held out a hand and he took it, rubbing a thumb over the underside of it, touch light on your skin. “You can’t prove that this isn’t the painkillers speaking but,” it hurt to lean closer to him but you thought he was worth it-- even with the deer-in-headlights look he had, “I care about you too.”

It was then that he smiled-- grinned, even-- and you finally heard him laugh again. “Oh, I’m definitely holding that against you, (Name).”

“Will you hold this against me, too?” You pulled your hand away from his, only to place it on his face instead, thumb tracing a line over his cheek. His eyes flickered down to your lips, obviously unsure on if he should close the gap, that worry still bubbling in his lower stomach that he was daydreaming again. So, you did instead, the ache in your gut less pressing than your want to kiss him. It was short but to say it didn’t make your heart soar and a faint colour flush Sam’s ears would be a lie. You hand stayed there after, fingers reluctant to move away-- to lose him; the thought scratched at the back of your mind.

He let out a sigh of relief-- a little ‘hoo’ noise coming with it. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted that.”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

WAit alpha!steve’s birthday would be so cute. Like I feel like they wouldn’t care much about Independence Day but like just the packs like birthday rituals but really done up because it’s the alpha and him just being like “guys stop it’s not a big deal” and everyone just loving on him and being a big family and then watching the human fireworks

A/N- That be Alpha Steves “What are you guys doing? stop!” 

Steve groaned in the early morning that was just starting to filter through the window, his hands shoved under the sheet pooled around his hips, once in a while, an unrestrained thrust would bury him into your sweet heat, your lips so soft where they flowed up and down his shaft.

“Just like that Little One, so good... so fucking good.” he would groan out just short of a growl, and your cheeks would hollow once more, rushes of air coming from your nose until your sunk your mouth back over him, ending where your nose pressed into the short curls, your eyes rolling up to a close before pulling off. Steve soon took over, thrusting into your mouth and down your throat till coming to a shuddering stop, gasping as he felt you swallow, doing your best to take him.

Fuck the Alpha let his pleasure rush over him, holding himself deep in your throat till you grasped his thighs lightly, and he released his hold, letting you pull away. You cleaned him and flipped the sheet up to look at him with a grin, using the sheet to wipe the drool off your chin. “Happy Birthday Alpha.” You shift back up Steve’s body, giving soft bites to his pecs before tucking yourself back into his side, your arm wrapped over his chest as you nuzzled his neck.

“That was quite a wake-up.” He tilted his head and looked down at you, not surprised to see your proud smirk and soft giggles as you lift your self up closer to him, and giving a slow teasing kiss to whisper against his mouth. “I figured you would like that, gotta properly wake my man up you know, especially on your birthday.”

Steve growled good-natured into the kiss, rolling enough so that you got pinned underneath him. listening to your soft little giggles of surprise and Steve lifted the sheet enough to duck underneath it. “Let me finish up with my birthday present, Little One.” Hands and mouth descended down on you, and he worked you up with his tongue, having you cumming on his face while crying his name. He had a devilish grin when he came out from under the sheet, caging you underneath him and claiming a harsh possessive kiss.

Best Birthday Wakeup he had in ages.

The day went on, most of the crew voted to go up to the lot since it was a nice day, at least half a day, and Steve wasn't going to deny them the time and a half pay if they wanted to work it. So they gathered up their equipment, and the crew headed up. You followed Steve out the door, hoping down most the steps, but pausing on the last one and tugging on the customary flannel shirt Steve wore out of the house, it made you grin how he even dressed the part. Turning back, his brows arched, as he stepped back towards you, his hand settling at your waist. “Yes, Little One?”

You brushed your fingers around his shirt collar and leaned in to kiss him slowly, growling against his lips in a hungry way while you kept your touches against the back of his neck innocent and playful. “Have a good day Alpha, we will finish celebrating your birthday later.”

Blue eyes snapped knowing, and grasped your waist instead, pressing you flush against his body, Licking at your lips. “You can bet your sweet ass we will.” making you giggle and press your forehead against his. From behind Steve, Sam called out. “Hey, if you two are done, we would like to get out of here today?”

Giving you one last kiss, while you put your middle finger up at Sam, he gave a howl of laughter, holding onto his side as Steve snapped a hand on your ass in play and left you teetering back and forth from heel to toe on the porch steps before hoping down, headed the opposite way they were.

“I can't believe Y/N just flipped me off like that.” Sam snorted as they finished loading the truck before climbing up in it, and the loud rumble echoed in the garage, before pulling out.

<Ha cause our Mate takes no shit from anyone.> The Wolf obviously proud of his partner and Steve to was smug when he responded. “You interrupted an important conversation Wilson.”

“Riiight. Nothing to do with it being your birthday and you two are still in some kind of honeymoon stage.”

“As if you and Sara aren't like that still.” Steve countered and Sam grinned, winking.

“Trust me, it only gets better with time.”  

Steve watched out his window, thinking about what Sam had said, letting it sink in. His Wolf nudged against his mind. <Trust what your Beta says.>

I do... I believe it. Y/N is home now.

A soft agreeing growl filtered through Steves mind as they pulled into the lot, and got there morning started.

You hurried to gather the Pack, shallow howls letting everyone know the Alpha was gone. With Sara and Wanda helping explain what you wanted to do, everyone was on board, splitting up to gather what was needed, and bring it down to the large lakeshore beach that you and Steve had your first solo run together. It had turned into one of your favorite spots, and today, for the later afternoon and early evening, it was going to be set up just to celebrate there Alpha, the whole pack.

You were waiting up by the gates later when the trucks started coming down from the logging road, Steve came to a stop, and you hoped up, hanging off the door, your forearms crisscrossing on the edge of the window as you poked your head in. “You guys all famished?”

“Starving Little One, why?”

“Come down to the beach once y'all get cleaned up and you will see.” You winked at the men, and hopped back down, before Steve could call you back, you waved your hands at them and disappeared into the woods, heading back towards the lake.

“Do you know what that was about?” Steve questioned Sam, who just shrugged. “well Man the only way to find out is go on down.” Continuing on the road, Steve passed along your invitation to the others, and going down, Steve soon saw what the pack had been up to, and his cheeks went flush, and everyone cheered, and started singing Happy Birthday. Sam grinned right along, slapping his back and laughing at the Alphas reaction. “She has been planning this with the girls all week. How you didn't have any idea is beyond me.”

<I can’t believe she fooled us!> His Wolf barked out, laughing at the surprise and Steves initial shock that his Mate had thought to do this for him.

Steve sputtered, shaking his head as he willed himself to calm down. “ I-I had no idea she was doing this.” You were coming up to him, and ducked into his side, the excited grin plastered on your face. “Welcome to your birthday party.” Steve shook his head and gave you a playful glare, snorting at you.

“I was just told you had taken all week to set this up.”

“Sam!” You growl at Sam

“Steve!” He huffed out, turning it around and started sniffing the air. “Hey them burgers I smell? I uh... Better go find Sara, make sure she gets herself one.” He strode away, leaving you and Steve laughing. The rest of the time, he went down to the picnic tables, all of you grabbing food, laughing, and talking, sharing off one another's plates. A couple of the packs kids enticed a game of chase on the beach. Steve and Clint being the “big bad wolves" that chased after the kids.

You had a cold Mikes Hard Lemonade, watching Steve chase after a little girl and sweep her up just before she raced into the water, swinging her through the air, and into his arms, the girl clinging around his neck as she wrinkled her nose at him, and bared her teeth, pretending to be tough. Steve proceeded to tickle her belly, having her squealing as he swings her down, only to be tackled once more from behind by other kids. Clint tossing them one by one (gently) into the water, piling them off Steve. From further up the beach the White Wolf bounded into the water, splashing around, and the kids abandoned the alpha, running to chase after Bucky.

Steve came over and collapsed on the grassy part next to you, holding out his hand for your bottle, and taking a swing as he handed it back to you. “Well look who showed up to the party.” Steve motioned towards Bucky who was then swimming his hardest into the reeds to hide away from the kids.

“Kids already wear you out Alpha?” you teased and he growled, rolling till you were pinned under him partially, biting playfully at your shoulder. “Never, just wait till it's our kids joining the pack and playing take down the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Your hardly the big bad wolf, more like a sweet puppy.” you giggled as he tickled along your side and you pushed against his chest, looking up at him. “That's not till later, then you can be the Big Bad Wolf, m’kay?” You smirked at him, and with a groan from him and his wolf, he fell back, letting you sit up and reach down to take his hands. “Come on Alpha, it's your birthday.” It was just starting to really get the tinged of twilight all along the lake edge. Someone had started some music playing and turned on some lights hanging from the trees that put the beach in a soft glow.

“You know Little One I don't know how to dance,” Steve said softly as you place his hands at your hips and you settled your hands on his shoulders. Nearby other couples paired off in similar ways.

“Don't worry, I will teach you. Right here and now.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes shimmer slightly yellow in the dark, your Little Wolf with him as much as you were. The two of you swayed softly, your bare feet, rolling the beach pebbles enough so that it was a sloppy dance, ending with you holding onto him around his neck and pressed against his chest, his hands tightening slightly around your waist. The Alpha rumbled lightly, scenting your neck before putting a wet kiss, a press of his tongue against the curve, leaving his scent on you. You hid a smile in his shoulder feeling him.

“Mmhh, I like this.” anytime your body pressed against his, he felt like he couldn't ever let you go, the Wolf would be at ease in his mind having his mate close. You're just turning with the flow of the music when Steve lifts his nose in the air, inhaling deeply. “Ahhh, and now my surprise is about to start.”

“What?” You are inhaling deeply, trying to figure out what he was talking about. The damp lake air smelled as usual of the deep fresh springs feeding it, and the freshwater reed's that lined the edge, but there was a faint burnt smell drifting towards you and a whizz exploded in the air, bursting on the far side of the lake. Above you were a multitude of colors dancing across your eyes and Steve admired the look of amazement on your face, pulling you back up to the grassy area, he lowered into a sit, you to ease back in between his spread legs, and leaned against his chest, watching the display light up the night sky for the fourth of July. The lake below reflecting the glow. “I haven't seen these since I was just a kid.”

Tipping your face, you looked up at him. “Did you arrange this?”

Steve kissed your temple and pulled you in closer against him, his hands resting on your hips, thumbs feathering against your side, his legs caging you into his safety.

“The town does them and asked if they could send them over the lake this year. I opened up the South logging road for them.” Across the lake, you could see shimmering of lights, but it was too far away to see anyone standing in the darkness.

“That was really sweet of you Alpha.” you nipped his jawline, whispering to him. “Happy Birthday.”

Steve let his chin rest on the top of your head, watching the show above them, thinking back on how lucky he was to have you, right here, in his arms tonight and for the rest of his nights.

Like Sam had said, It only gets better with time.

He and his wolf believed that now.

[cherry3point14]

The Wrong Winchester - One Year Later

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen Warnings: Cavity protection required. Word Count: 12,304. (WHY) Summary: One year after the fiasco that was Fourth of July, you’re back in  Kansas and back at the Winchesters. This time with their other son. A/N: A sequel for the trope fluff fest that was The Wrong Winchester. Somehow this is fluffier and more trope-y! Listen, I didn’t say it was good, just that it exists. Happy 4th July my bitches! (*sobs in the corner* this was supposed to be a timestamp)

Ao3 if you prefer.

June has been cool this year, more so than normal, but then the heat of July hits like clockwork. Even though you enjoy airplanes, and the AC they provide, you’ve done the drive because Dean hates flying. It’s not even a compromise because the detour your journey takes means that it’s Thursday evening by the time you arrive in Lawrence. Sam and Eileen got there mid-morning. You’re hoping that the Winchesters are so distracted getting to know her that you can slip in like an old piece of furniture, unnoticed and ignored.

It’s when he turns the corner onto their street, and the family home looms in the distance, that it hits you. You’re here, again, and you’re doing this, again. And nobody would ever believe it but this is considerably worse because this time you love the guy sitting next to you.

Not that you’ve told him that yet. It’s been a slow year.

Loving Dean does complicate things though. It means that you care what the Winchesters think of you. Last year, pretending, was a walk in the park in comparison. You knew Sam was fake breaking up with you after you left. You could have cheated on Sam in front of him and it wouldn’t have mattered because it was all, well, fake.

Although you did kind of cheat on Sam in front of him. Boy, did you hope Sam hadn’t told them about that.

Now, the house you’re pulling up at makes your toes curl inside your shoes while hurried excuses start pouring out. “You’re positive you don’t want to stay in a hotel? Take the pressure off your mom having to entertain us and Sam and Eileen. That’s a lot of guests.” You nod to yourself convincingly while you stare at the front door.

He smiles at you like you’re adorable, which you don’t appreciate. “If you’re looking to make her hate you, then yeah, go ahead and tell my Mom you’re taking her firstborn to a hotel for the weekend.”

You huff and pout your lips so he knows exactly how frustrated you are, “I know you’re right, doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“When are you ever?” He counters, smirking as he gets out of the car. You follow suit although you’re convinced that as your foot hits the stone driveway you can hear the ticking of a countdown. One small step for you, one giant leap to your doom.

Dean grabs your case and his duffel from the trunk, settling one on top of the other so that he has a free hand to wrap around your waist. It’s probably a picturesque image, him walking you to the house like that. You’re not sure if he’s being nice or making sure you don’t run away. Dean’s a smart man so it’s probably a little of both.

His hand reaches to open the door but even after the long drive from Chicago, your reactions are lightning-fast. You pull his arm back to stop him and answer the silent look on his dumb face, “shut up. We should knock.”

“Did you give Sammy this much trouble last year?”

His joke drags a smile out of you, not a laugh but a smile. He’s been trying to calm you down the whole journey. You don’t get nervous often, so seeing you this anxious has both worried and amused him. He’s settled for being supportive, he’s done everything he can to take your mind off of this moment. He told you exaggerated fake facts about Kansas to stop you complaining that the entire state was too damn hot. He distracted you with questions about the case you’re working on when you panicked about exactly how Sam had explained everything all those months ago. And most importantly he fed you. A few hours out he’d pulled into a drive-through and minutes later you’d found yourself pulled over on a random stretch of highway, legs crossed, and a brown paper bag in your lap. He’d wiped sauce from the corner of your mouth and watched you wolf down cheese fries.

Dean knew how to keep you happy for the hours you’ve spent in Baby. But now that you’re finally standing at the threshold he, apparently, thinks it’s time to throw you to the wolves, which he does, literally.

In one swift movement, the door is open before you can rap your knuckles against it and he uses his arm—the one that’s around your waist—to guide you inside. Except guiding you inside is more like a gentle push, which means you trip your way into the Winchester family home while Dean remains safely on the porch.

“What the f-?” The end of your sentence never makes it past your lips, thankfully, considering the gathering in the living room as you turn your head.  

Sam and Eileen are sitting opposite Mary and John, all of them holding a drink, clearly mid-conversation. They all stop. Four pairs of eyes are now trained on you. Even after a too-long second has passed none of them move as if your presence has frozen them in time. A perpetual state of being horrified by your existence.

“Dean!?” You don’t exactly shout but there’s a worried twang to your voice and still, none of them move. In fact, Sam doesn’t even attempt to help, which is a betrayal you won’t allow to pass unpunished or forgotten.

That’s for another day. Right now you’re about thirty seconds away from your first actual panic attack in years.

Dean slips in behind you, eventually. Even walking in with the bags he’s more graceful than you had been stumbling in. Not that you compliment him on that. You’re too preoccupied because you might have broken the Winchesters.

“Honey!” Mary beams with happiness at the sight of her eldest son and jumps up from her seat like a mannequin come to life. Whatever spell had been cast breaks so quickly that it might not have happened at all. Every single person takes a breath again and Mary walks over, wine forgotten on the coffee table, to hug Dean the way you’d seen her do a year ago.

“Mom!” He hugs her back, wrapping her up in his arms and lifting her from the floor an inch or two. You want to say he’s the cutest thing ever with that childlike smile on his face.

That’s what you want to say.

Unfortunately, the innocence doesn’t last as his expression morphs into a cocky smirk with a waving hand in your direction once he lets his mother go. “You remember Y/N, right?”

Is he freaking kidding?

Mary’s face steels, as if Dean had never entered the room. Your best friend and his girlfriend, who you know pretty well at this point, remain safely in their seats. And your boyfriend, your goddamn boyfriend who you love and trust, is standing there at an arm's length like this is an early fireworks display. The fuses have been lit and he is waiting for the explosives to go off.

The only person in the room who dares to make eye contact with you—outside of the matriarch—is John freaking Winchester. And he has the audacity to smile sweetly at you. Or as sweetly as John Winchester is capable of.

“Of course I remember Y/N.” Mary’s words are friendly but her tone does not mirror the sentiment. She taps her chin with one extended finger, thinking, “you were on Sam’s arm last year, if I remember rightly.”

You were going to murder Sam and thanks to your job you’d get away with it too. “I’m so sorry Mary, Sam told me he explained. It was all a misunderstanding, I was only…”

“Only jumping around between my boys? Or was the misunderstanding when we welcomed you into our home and you lied to us?”

You may have met your match. You could never admit this to the district attorney's office but Mary has found a way to silence you with a stare. Your lips snap shut without a good answer for her. You feel like a child being chastised for making a mess.

In fairness you had made a mess last year, however, you cleaned it up afterward.

Your eyes dart to the still-open front door before you rummage up an answer. “I don’t think jumping between them is very fair, Sam and I weren’t a real thing. I mean we’re still besties, even if he won’t call us that, but we were pretending. Which is still wrong but I defy any of you to say no to him when he does that dopey puppy face of his. Anyway I know he told you it was his idea, because it was, and I made sure he told you that because I don’t want you thinking that I came up with it and…”

“Great, you got her stuck in a loop, Mom.” Dean grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

“What?” You interrupt your own rambling to frown at him.

That’s when it happens. Mary breaks out into a grin so similar to Dean's that it’s frightening. If Sam got his smile from his mother then Dean inherited her devious smirk.

“It was your idea.” She answers your seemingly caring boyfriend.

You’re confused, as you should be. Hours. Days. Weeks of dreading this moment and this weekend. None of this makes any sense.

“I hate to sound like a broken record but, what?”

Mary turns her brightness on you, in the distance, John barks out a laugh and cracks his hand against his thigh as if this all went completely as planned.

“I’m sorry Y/N. We were only playing. It’s great to see you again.”

Then she hugs you, stiff as you may be from the complicated mix of annoyance and residual fear that you’re feeling. Her arms around you exude motherly warmth, something you’re unfamiliar with, until your muscles relax in her grip.

Over Mary’s shoulder, Dean is pressing his lips together to stop himself laughing and then finally your brain catches up. That bastard set you up. He sold you down the river. Still mid-hug you silently mouth to him, “I’m going to kill you.”

That sends Dean over the edge and a deep belly laugh escapes him. He doesn’t even attempt to apologize. He’s too caught up in how funny he thinks he is.

“So, you were all in on this? You too Sammy?” You splay your hand across your chest now that Mary has released you.

Mary links her arm with yours and leans in as if she didn’t rob you of ten years of your life, “if it helps Eileen told us we were being mean.”

You smile at Eileen, your now very good friend, as you take a seat next to her, “at least someone has my back.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, “well, Sam’s girlfriends need to stick together.”

And just like that. The final knife in your back sets them all off howling with laughter again. This was obviously going to be a long weekend.

It's not even day one, that starts tomorrow. It's been a few hours at best and you're already in bed and staring a hole in the ceiling. Ordinarily, you might be questioning why there is a suspicious rectangle that is whiter than the rest. As if the patch of paint had seen less light than the rest of the room like a poster had been there or something.

“You gotta tell me.”

You scoff. He has done nothing to earn any answers from you so far. Looking after you during the journey must have been an act to lull you into a false sense of security because he jumped ship as soon as you arrived. Winchesters are a tight-knit bunch.

“Come on, please?”

It sucks that you love this idiot, it sucks that you haven’t told him, it’s even worse that you cannot resist him. You roll over to his whining voice and prop yourself up on your elbow. It was foolish to ever hope for a good night's sleep when he’s amped up to be in his childhood home again. You can’t say that you remember him being like this last year but, then again, last year you were avoiding him since you were pretending to date his brother. “Oh my god, if I tell you will you let me sleep already?”

Dean nods, using a finger to draw a cross over his chest. Even in the dark, you can see the crinkles of his eyes deepen playfully, “cross my heart. I’ll even help you get off to sleep, by way of apology.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear to hint at his meaning, under his oversized Zeppelin shirt you’re sleeping in.

“Nice try Benedict Arnold, I haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”

He knows by the tone of your voice he won’t get anywhere right now, although it’s nothing to do with his betrayal. You’re still obsessed with somehow clawing back any semblance of a good impression. Sex in his childhood bed doesn’t strike you as the correct way to go about that. He doesn’t tease and try to change your mind with filthy words he knows you love. You think maybe Dean knows tonight isn't the night either. Maybe that’s why he’s asking questions instead.

His hand slides up over your waist and settles comfortingly around your middle—almost as if he knows he has some groveling to do. He asks again hoping to get one of the things he wants; answers. “C’mon. Just tell me. I’ll tell you mine.”

You haven’t spoken much about last year with Dean and you were absolutely fine with that. Last Fourth of July wasn’t exactly a Kodak moment for you. It almost cost you Sam and as much as you love Dean, Sam’s friendship is one of the very foundations of your adult life. Sure last year was the kind of thing you’ve joked about, but the nitty-gritty details had stayed where they should, in the past.

However, being back here, albeit in the next room over to the one you’d previously occupied, has apparently opened the topic up for conversation.

“Fine. You really want to know?”

“With all my heart.”

“God, you’re lucky you’re cute. At the airport. Okay?”

His smile widens until you can see his teeth shine. “You’re joking?”

You bury your face in the pillow, only coming up for air when necessary despite the way he pokes your sides to make you squirm. “No, I’m not joking. I wasn’t sleepy getting off the plane. I was trying to figure out if there was a way for me to make out with my fake boyfriend's hot older brother.”

“You were too good for your fake boyfriend anyway.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “too good for me too.”

He shouldn’t be allowed to catch you off guard like that, it’s against the rules. Yet he does it all the time. The sweetest secrets whispered in your ear while you’re brushing your teeth or watching a movie. As if he needs to tell you as soon as the thought pops into his head. And it’s not fair because he deserved some silent treatment or something. You know he’ll be back to his tricks tomorrow, so he should pay tonight. But now instead of being annoyed at him, your lips are following his while you realize you were never really mad in the first place.

His wandering hand moves to wrap around your neck, his fingers are lost in your hair and his thumb traces over your jaw. This is the classic Dean trick. He thinks he’s so smooth and that one day he’ll manage to keep you attached to his mouth forever if he holds you there, just right.

As much as you want to appease him, it never lasts. Eventually, you always need air in your pesky, needy lungs. Tonight though it ends with your hand on his chest nudging him off of you. “No way. You owe me yours. Come on, when did you start like-liking me?” You finish the question in a sarcastically childish voice.

Dean is nothing if not fair, sometimes, and he would never break a promise. He leans back a little and adopts what you have dubbed his ‘thinking face’. It may be nighttime but you’d recognize that furrowed brow anywhere.

“When I found you in my bedroom.” He finally answers.

It takes a whole second to remember. “Really? You mean when I was trying to find the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I mean a guy comes back to his room and finds a pretty girl...”

It’s your turn to frown, “wait. Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re saying that your ‘moment’ was when you found me in your room, in my pajamas, with bed head and a full bladder?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You were all cute an’ twitchy when I caught you, then suddenly you’re all fired up and telling me off for making fun of you. You were a little spitfire.”

You drop your forehead to his chest and let out a laugh. Trust Dean to like you because you busted his balls.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “good enough answer?”

You yawn, happily, and shimmy down into bed proper. “It was your game De. The question is are you happy with yours?”

He settles down next to you, close enough to hear the deep, “mm hmm” in his throat.

Almost everything is different this year but one fact remains the same. You can take the running gear from Sam but you can’t stop Sam from going running.

He has emergency running shoes in his closet.

The new part is that you’re up as early as he is. You’re sitting on the sofa with your laptop propped up on your knees, with yet another witness statement that you were sure was made up. It was too perfect and a jury would never buy it.

By the time Sam, the sweat machine, returns you’re typing a passive-aggressive email to that effect.

“You had any coffee yet?” He asks with two mugs in his hands, passing one to you.

You take the mug without looking up from the screen and swallow a scalding sip, which you only half notice burns your tongue. “Obviously not. Your mom is in there and she still scares me.”

He laughs but doesn’t question it. He doesn’t need to. Dean may have dealt with you on the long drive and whenever he was in town but Sam deals with you every day. He has been privy to almost every one of your breakdowns in the last month. June felt longer than thirty days.

Sam sits down next to you and starts watching the news channel you’d been ignoring. It takes a minute but eventually, he grabs the remote to pause the screen, “ah, there’s my favorite celebrity lawyer.”

You don't need to look up to know that you are on the TV.

“I won’t be anyone’s lawyer if I don’t figure out why my client insists on lying to me and getting people to lie on his behalf.” Your fingers get dangerously close to pounding the plastic keyboard into smithereens. “Hasn’t he heard of attorney-client privilege?”

“Okay. I think you need a little break from that.” He says prying the laptop from you and closing it on the coffee table, so you can’t see the screen anymore.

You want to be mad at him but, of course, you can’t. You look up at him and his soft smile that’s all kinds of sympathetic to the workload you’ve been bearing of late. If you weren’t being driven insane by the biggest case of your career then maybe you’d be a little more rational when it came to this weekend.

Although, that’s unlikely. You were always going to go crazy about this particular get together.

“I swear sometimes I think he’s actually stupid. I’m trying to help him. Why did he even think he could escape arrest in the third most populated city in America?” You shuffle yourself so that you’re sitting sideways and facing him. Despite your insults about your client, the question is earnest.

“Probably figured it’s the only way he’d get to hire you.”

You roll your eyes, “sure, that’s why I’m co-counsel to fucking New York’s finest Marcus Delaney, who he trusts like a fucking brother.”

Sam widens his eyes at you in warning but you catch on too late; his mother is in the next room. You both hold your breath waiting for a reaction. When nothing happens you relax and he answers the least important part of your statement, “technically you’re a New York native too.”

“Objection, relevance?”

“Well, you mentioned…”

“Nah-uh. Enough about me. You took my laptop away so now we have to talk about you.” You smirk into your cup.

Sam knows where this is going. He told you his news two entire weeks ago, it worked like a charm and was also the biggest mistake of his life. Because two weeks ago Sam invited you to his office for lunch and told you over takeout that he was getting married.

He wanted to tell you because you’re his best friend. He’d told you before Dean and sworn you to secrecy until he’d called his brother later that day. Both of you knew the news was coming anyway, so it wasn’t really a race. Sam had been wringing his hands over how to ask the love of his life for weeks before he did it. You only found out about the ‘yes’ before Dean, because Sam had been trying to calm you down after another ‘4th of July freak-out’.

Sam had forgotten what happens if a seven-year-old gets their hands on too much sugar. Or, to be more precise, what happens when he gives a big, juicy, sensitive piece of information to you. Now he can't get you to shut up about it.

He sighs. He’s still facing the TV even though your eyes are on him. “I should have let you keep working, shouldn’t I?”

“Too late for that, Sammy. Have you decided when you’re telling everyone yet?”

He shifts to side-eye you, “oh, yeah. I was thinking, how about never?”

“You can’t bring your devoted fiance home for the weekend and not tell them!” You’re keeping your voice low but it’s insistent all the same.

“Ok. What about at the airport?”

“We’re dropping you back to the airport.”

“Right, before that then.”

You laugh, “why did you even come this weekend if you’re going to chicken out?”

“I’m not going to chicken out but, would it be so bad if I did? I brought you last year to avoid my Mom's crazy and now… I mean this will be like Defcon two.”

You wonder, briefly, what triggers Defcon one. Considering how quickly Mary had asked you if you were pregnant last year, you’d wager it’d be grandchildren.

In the pause where you both sip your morning caffeine again, neither of you notice the slight creak. The kind of creak where a door begins to open but never does.

“All I’m saying is, getting married is an amazing thing. It’s time to share the happy news. Hell, I’ll go wake Dean and we can do it now.”

“That’s easily the worst idea you’ve ever had. And I’m including the outfit you wore to the first office Christmas party.”

He’s walking right into your trap. “I dusted that number off for your brother over Christmas, you know.”

“Oh god. I don’t need to know about you and-and him-and a sexy Santa's helper costume.” He actually gets up, sweeps his mug with him, and sours his face.

“You brought it up, Sammy!” You're grinning all wide and evil, calling after him.

He pauses with his back leaning against the kitchen door, at the same time that Eileen walks in. “I hate you.”

You look up at her and sigh, “you see the way he talks to me when you’re not around?”

This is not the first time Eileen has been caught in the middle of you two, so she laughs and promises, “I’ll talk to him about that.”

Sometimes Dean likes to yank your chain and sometimes you like to yank his. It’s what makes you kind of perfect for each other, any bruised egos or pouting lips are part of the game you play. An excellent example is the way he’d betrayed you already this weekend. You weren’t mad, well, maybe a little, but in the end, you forgave him because it’s him.

In all the jokes there’s one thing that Dean knows not to play around with, one thing that he wouldn’t dare mess with.

Winchester. Family. Baseball.

You had agreed to wear his dumb spare jersey the same as you’d done for Sam. Like Eileen was doing for Sam this year. Although you had to admit her shorts are a little more family-friendly.

You’d even made a sign. A big piece of poster board, some markers, glitter, and stickers that you had gone to Target to buy special. It said GO TEAM DEAN! With a heart to dot the exclamation point. The sign was a surprise. When you’d shown him before leaving for the game he’d called you a dork and smiled so wide you worried his face might break.

You were ready for the game because you were safe. The worst thing that you expect is the comments when you turn up with a ‘1’ on your shirt this year instead of a ‘2’. You’ve already dealt with this from Mary and John but you weren’t so blind to forget about the rest of the family.

Charlie laughs at you when she notices, straight away, and threateningly asks for the story later. Bobby simply says, “switched teams, huh?” Before walking off. Granted he doesn’t seem to judge you, merely stating the observation like an interesting factoid. And Gabe starts, “lookie here when do I-” but smartly stops. He’s too tongue in cheek to be offensive but the look on Deans’ face might have something to do with his change of heart.

All of that you could handle. Par for the course. You had been ready for it because—can’t stress this enough—you were safe. Today was going to be a fun day of cheering on your boyfriend at his weird family baseball game.

You’re so sure of yourself that you even helped Mary pack drinks and snacks, with Eileen as a buffer, because you knew you’d get to enjoy said food. As a spectator.

When John does his ‘gather round me for I am John Winchester’ bit to pick the teams you’re choosing your spot in the stands. A little area in the front row for you, Mary and Eileen where you’re putting the food. You don’t join said gathering because that’s how not relevant it was to your life. You’d find out the teams when they’re playing and you’re only fifteen feet away from them all. You can hear them barking out names fine.

Dean picks Micheal. Sam makes a comment like ‘big surprise’. Bickering ensues until John gets them to focus up.

You could write this stuff in your sleep. You don’t want to call them predictable, considering this was only your second year here, but sometimes the truth is right there in front of you. And the truth is Winchester family baseball is going exactly how you expect.

Actually it’s the one thing that is going how you expect this weekend. Frankly, you needed that, some stability. Something you could rely on.

“Y/N”

Time slows down. In your head, you can hear that siren noise from Kill Bill and the world is suddenly devoid of color, except one. A red light flashes over your vision, as you turn in comically slow motion to find out which one of those idiots betrayed you.

Dean. Of course. The goddamn one you’re in love with.

He has the absolute gall to wave at you from where he’s standing. Smiling like, well, like it’s Fourth of July weekend and he innocently picked his girlfriend to play a game with him. That’s what it must look like to his family anyway.

To you? You feel like Lady Macbeth. Disappointed and betrayed by your significant other who can't do his one job. You’re not even asking him to kill the King of Scotland, all he had to do was not say your name.

Before you have an opportunity to write yourself out of this tragedy, he’s waving you over and your legs start walking. Apparently your body listens to him more than it listens to your own brain. Was nothing sacred anymore?

“There’s my girl.”

Those words would normally make you weak at the knees. Unfortunately for Dean, when it comes to baseball, you’re not melting that easy.

When you reach him you smile until you’re close enough to mutter dangerously, “I’m going to make you disappear and it'll look like an accident.”

You notice people dispersing which means your amazing boyfriend waited to call you till last. Not only did he screw you over but he made you the embarrassing last pick.

He leans in to kiss you and breathes against you, “you know you love playing with me.”

God, you do. You love playing with this dick, who apparently hates you, as well as his dick. Not baseball granted but other games.

“‘Sides,” he continues in your silence, “you don’t want to let all that practice go to waste.”

“All that practice? Practice?” You pull your head back, unable to resist showing him how offended you are, “you mean the time you forced me to go to the batting cages?”

He crosses his hands at your back and pulls you to him until your thighs are pressed against his. Were it not for his jeans then it would be incredibly inappropriate for a family baseball game. Actually, with the jeans, it might still be inappropriate.

“I seem to remember someone enjoying my arms wrapped around her while I taught her how to hit. I also seem to remember that someone forgot all about me in a damn second once she could do it on her own.”

“It was very stress relieving, I kept pretending the ball was the dummy who took me to the batting cages.”

A laugh rumbles through him, his body is so close to yours that you feel it in your stomach.

“Come on, this will be fun. You need more fun.”

You poke a finger into his chest, an inch above the collar of his jersey, “don't pretend you're doing me a favor. if I remember the rules, I don’t have a choice. But don’t you worry, I won’t forget this.”

He grins in that ‘brighter than the sun’ Dean way, “I know baby. I know.”

You’d made it home four times, an impressive three more than last year. None of them were from hitting a home run or anything preposterous. You do hit the ball almost every time though. You still couldn’t catch, throw or run--all three skills are apparently super essential in baseball. You can connect the bat with the ball though. Everyone seems pretty impressed every time it happens, if only they knew how impressed you were every time you manage it.

Your lack of skills aside, when Dean wins, he leans you over his arm and kisses you rightly. As if it’s V-J day and he single-handedly stopped WWII. Eileen sneaks up on Sam, from where she’d been watching in the stands. Although your ASL is not perfect, you’re at least 80% sure that her hand's sign “sucks to be you,” as she walks to him. You might love her a little more than you did ten minutes ago and Sam laughs a little harder too.

Dean chooses a steakhouse. The place is all wood paneling and soft lighting. The ambiance reminds you of your first real date in Chicago, although there will probably be less sticky fingers. From the ribs, obviously.

Mary and John drive ahead and they’re waiting outside when you all arrive. You’ve told Eileen to be prepared, told her to have her wits about her, promised her you’ll jump in if necessary. She’d told you not to worry.

Oh, you hate to see it happen.

As soon as you’re inside you volunteer to sit next to John, it’s the smallest kindness you can do for your friend. She should sit between the safety of Sam and Dean for what is to come.

It starts as you expect and it’s strange being on the other side of the interrogation. Nobody gives a flying crap about what drink or food you order but Eileen? She gets the same treatment you had last year. Silence and an entire table waiting to hear what she has to say. She’s the shiny, new thing everyone is interested in. You’re both glad and sorry. Glad the heat is taken off of you and sorry that it’s Eileen bearing the brunt of it.

Although—and it’s not your imagination—they are a hell of a lot easier on her than John had been on you. It presumably helps that Eileen is a Librarian. Her stories are all child reading groups and teaching elderly people how to use email in the computer room. Even you find yourself a bit smitten and you already knew her.

You’re trying not to focus on her too much though. Let her charm Mary and John, she doesn’t need another face watching her while she talks. Instead, you concentrate on your appetizer, one of those deep-fried onion things you’re sharing with Dean. The unspoken agreement is if you eat smelly food then you do it together.

He shakes his head, making eye contact with you as he takes a particularly over the top bite, when you’re pulled back into the main conversation.

“Y/N, where did you spend Christmas last year?”

“I’m sorry?” You ask somewhat dazed by being called on so soon.

Mary smiles kindly, “Eileen mentioned her parent's cabin, which I know is where they spent Christmas. I realized I had no idea where you spent the holidays?”

“Sure. I-erm, I stayed in Chicago.” Dean's hand under the table surprises you when you feel the weight of him on your knee.

“Oh, funnily enough, I remember Dean saying he was in Chicago too and I thought to myself how strange that was with Sam being gone.”

Everyone laughs at her joke, even your boyfriend while he moves his hand up your thigh.

“Didn’t want to head to New York and see your parents?” She continues her line of inquiry.

You have no idea where she’s going with it, why you’re the one in the hot seat, or why Dean is driving you crazy with his thumb rubbing those incessant circles in your skin. You answer anyway.

“N-No. They go to Europe every other Christmas so they’ll be home this year.”

Mary takes a bite of whatever-the-hell is on her plate. “The boys are coming to us this year too, I guess we’ll have to get better about syncing these things up, huh?”

His hand alone wouldn’t normally drive you as crazy as it is right now. He’s only tapping a slow, teasing rhythm into your thigh for crying out loud. But it’s been a few days and before that a few weeks, and you’d been resolved to not sully this wholesome family weekend. So, your breath is just a touch shorter than normal when he squeezes, and you can only hide it by talking.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess we will.” You agree easily.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your parents, yours too Eileen. Do you think we’ll be meeting yours before Christmas Y/N? Any other big events coming up?”

Were you not focusing on the heat of his hand under your skirt then you might be suspicious of the way she asks that. As it is Dean chooses then to wink at you because he thinks it's hilarious how preoccupied you are.

“Erm, Thanksgiving?”

“Right, right. Thanksgiving.” She smirks like she has a secret.

You stand up suddenly, needing to get away from your teasing boyfriend, “sorry. I’m going to go use the restroom.”

“Hurry back.” Dean’s mocking tone follows you.

Were his parents not at the table you'd tell him to go to hell.

Saturday morning comes faster than you expected. You did have a jump on the long weekend because you’d all taken a day off work this year but Saturday still seemed to have jumped from a cupboard to surprise you.

You wake up as you often do when you share Dean’s bed. One of you, today it’s him, has the other one, you, in what can only be described as an inescapable hold. He’s got one arm wrapped around you, fingers hanging loose over your stomach where you’re laying on your side. His other arm is encroaching on your pillow to surround you and his head is curled in your neck. His breath is slow and hot over your skin. You never imagined that you’d enjoy waking up like this, so incredibly close to someone. And then you met Dean. Sometimes you wrap him up in your sleep, your fingers in his hair, and one leg thrown over his. Either way one always claims the other and you wouldn’t want anything different.

Except at this very second.

Dean is a light sleeper. A bit of a contradictory trait for someone who likes to sleep as much as he does—yours is not to question why—but you never want to willingly wake him if you can avoid it. You’re more than happy to let sleeping Dean’s lie. When you don’t need the bathroom that is.

Even though this isn’t your first time trying you still give it your best shot to slip out without disturbing him.

You think you’re getting there. You’ve managed to roll onto your back for an easier way out, his face is now smashed into his pillow instead of your back, you’ve slipped down the bed a little to get away from his hand on your pillow. It’s only that arm across you that you need to get free from. Today is the day that you’ll finally manage to pee without waking him up. The trick, you think, is not to touch him. You’ve been burned before by trying to lift his arm off of you when you only need to slip out from under it.

“Come on, five more minutes.” He mumbles, fingers come to life to hold you tighter and you swear you see his lip curl because you’ve failed to sneak away again.

“I need to pee.” Who says romance is dead?

He huffs, you’ve hit on what he deems an acceptable reason to let go of you. Barely.

Not that he eases up. You have to wiggle from his hold which makes you crack your first smile of the day. Despite your need to hurry you bend over him and press a kiss to his cheek. “How about I get some coffee while I’m up, see if I can get you to forgive me?”

“You can try.” He mutters in his half-sleep state.

The house is quiet when you leave the bathroom, ridiculously quiet for how full of people it will be later. The calm tricks you into feeling invincible, where nobody else exists save for you and the man you left in bed.

“Morning Y/N.” Mary is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and not doing much else.

“Oh my god!” You recoil with your whole body, arms bent into your chest like you’re trying to stave off a heart attack. You can be a little dramatic at times but the way she’s sitting in silence, illuminated only by the early morning light from the backyard, almost gives the illusion of her appearing out of thin air. “Sorry, Mary. I must be easy to scare first thing in the morning.”

A slow smile spreads over her face, “no I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I like a few minutes of peace before the boys are up is all.”

You grab two mugs, a pretty clear indication you plan to take coffee back to Dean, but before you can fill both she makes you an offer you can’t refuse. “You and I both know he is already back to sleep, he’ll keep for a few minutes. Sit with me.”

Dean's empty mug, your excuse to leave, gets left on the counter with most of your hopes and dreams. The only thing you try to cling to is that Mary wants to carry on sitting in silence, only, together.

“Y/N, we haven’t had a chance to talk, just you and me. Not since last year.”

Or maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for you all along.

“I guess we haven’t. I-eh, I really did mean what I said when I got here Mary. I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m not trying to rake you over the coals here, and I’m not looking for another apology. I know what my sons think of me, Sam thinks I’m crazy. You were being a good friend.” She shrugs like it's that simple.

It’s kind of ridiculous how quickly you relax, and how quickly you start spilling your guts, “The lying though. I don’t feel good about that.”

Mary is quick. She leans over the table and wraps her hand around yours, “I don’t remember that much lying. I could tell you loved Sam last year and if that’s like a brother, I’m still glad he has you.”

She’s right. You do love Sam like a brother, the one you never had. He’s been more your family than your own. The first family you’d chose and only real family you had, which is why you’d been so scared at first. It’s why you’d been so quick to run from Dean at the risk of losing Sam. Hell, sometimes you wonder if it’s one of the many reasons you love Dean—because he’s the only other person on the planet who loves Sam as much as you do.

Your fingers twitch under her hand, unsure of the loving way she holds you. Unsure if you deserve it or why she offers it so easily. Whatever the answer is, she has your guard down.

“What about Dean?” It’s a loaded question. You need someone else to see what’s there before you can admit it to him. You're looking for confidence because you are unsure of his feelings. Who better to judge than his own mother?

She squeezes enough to tell you that you’re looking down at your coffee instead of looking at her, before she pulls back to lift her mug to her lips again. “That’s obvious Y/N.” She almost sounds bored at such an easy question, ”I knew I was right all along.”

"Right about what?”

Not even a pause. If she was indeed waiting for you this morning then she was waiting for you to ask this question.

“That you are going to be a Winchester someday.”

“No-I, no…” You trail off to nothing and it’s not because of the way Mary is still grinning despite your protests. It’s not her raised eyebrows over the rim of her cup. It’s not even the little hum like noise she lets out in affirmation that yes, you would wear the big 'W' as your last name.

It’s that you can see it. You’ve had a year of long-distance with Dean; scheduled weekends and facetime dates. You’ve been itching to tell him how you feel but terrified of scaring him away, scared of moving too quickly with the guy you don’t see enough, scared he doesn’t feel the same. And yet in the back of your mind, the vision is forming, pushing its way to the front without permission. Dean on one knee. You in a white dress. The moment you both say ‘I do’.

Is this what becoming a hopeless romantic feels like? Or were you always this much of a total sap?

“Don’t worry, I know.” She reiterates again.

Mary has a reputation, she’s pushy enough, so you assume that’s what this is. You assume she’s making a premonition, not looking for confirmation of something she thinks she already knows. So, you look to escape what you think is the awkwardness that you can’t answer.

“I’m going to get Dean his coffee or-or we’ll never get him out of bed.”

She nods you to leave but disagrees with your evaluation, “I think you underestimate how much my son loves fireworks.”

You smile wide, remembering how his face lit up in the dark the year before, “You’re right. Still, I should go get him up.”

Then you pour more coffee, including Deans, and run. If anyone else caught wind of this conversation they would never believe you were a defense lawyer, let alone the lawyer who’s been plastered over the news defending a celebrity on a murder case.

Dean has, predictably, gone back to sleep since you left. Although the light sleeper that he is, he is roused by the door opening and the smell of coffee.

“Baby?”

That’s all it takes to make you forget the conversation with Mary ever happened. You can’t help but laugh at his sleepy voice as you slip in next to him, careful not to spill anything while he fidgets awake, “who else would wake you up like this?”

He rubs at his eyes, “oh, y’know, my other girlfriend.”

“You’ll have to introduce us one day, we can compare notes.”

You’re still not used to the Winchester’s if you’re being completely honest. To you, barbecue has always been a type of food, and not necessarily one your parents approved of. It was never a place, a home. That’s what today is. Saturday afternoon and the sun is high, there's a faint twang of country music coming from somewhere. Not loud enough to hear the lyrics but loud enough to identify the genre, loud enough to wish you were wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone has a beer or a burger, or both. And it’s not all dopey eyed niceties. There are teenagers, Claire and Alex, hating everyone from the other end of the yard. Occasionally there’s a “screw you” or a “you idjit” shouted from the many random conversations happening. But it’s still somehow perfect in the imperfections. It’s cozy and homely. It’s a family. Love.

It would be easy to feel overwhelmed and convince yourself that you don’t belong. It’s lucky that you have your boyfriend. And since he has disappeared on you, Sam and Eileen. Although she is doing a much better job than you at fitting in.

“She’s going to make me look bad,” you tell Sam while you both watch Eileen animatedly tell Uncle Bobby something that makes him howl. Even his stoic expressions are hidden behind his beard but Eileen is a stand-up comedian, apparently

“That’s not hard is it?” He teases.

“That might hurt if you hadn’t picked me to bring last year, to protect her from all this.” You use the neck of your bottle to draw a circle in the air around the whole motley crew of his family.

Before you register his movement he has an arm around your shoulders, you’re expecting a headlock so you’re pleasantly surprised when he pulls you into a side hug. “That’s the first time you’ve joked about it since… since last year. I’m glad. Everyone else is over it, you’re the only one hanging on Y/N/N.”

You don’t want to choke up in the middle of their backyard but sometimes Sam’s big brother moments hit you like that. “I never said I was very good at letting things go.”

He huffs. “You’re too tough sometimes. That’s why I picked you to help me.” He sucks in a slow breath, “you have to get out of your head... and maybe stop being so annoying.”

You shove him back so he can’t lean on you but now you’re out of his hold he’s looking down at you with those damn puppy dog eyes. He hasn’t asked for something which means he’s trying to use them to make you feel better. You hadn’t realized you’d needed to feel better, was your face sad enough to warrant a Sam pep talk

“I’m fine,” you wave away his concern. “Have you decided yet?”

“And there I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Is Eileen happy to let you forget?” You counter him with an expectant look. “She wants to tell them but she’s happy to let me make the decision since it’s my family.” He says in a pointed, not pointed way.

You shake your head, “she’s going too easy on you. Good thing you have me to put you in line.”

“I thought I was the line?” It takes you a beat, you’re actually surprised he remembered you saying that to John.

“No, that was what I had to say when I was being paid to make you look good.” His face turns somber, “I never paid you.”

“Tomayto, tomahto Sammy.” You finish the beer in your hand, “you know I’m not pushing you, right? If you don’t do it, there’s always Christmas, or send a save the date.”

He shoves at you this time and the air returns to its normal lightness. “I know. You only want me to put on my big boy pants.”

“I could care less about your pants. I want you to take the heat off me, obviously.” You hold up your bottle to him, “I’m out. You need another one?”

He chuckles, ducks his head, and looks at his fiance again. “Yeah, dutch courage might help.”

“Dare to dream.” You sympathize, patting him on his shoulder.

Sam might tell them today, he might not. You wouldn’t judge him either way. He knows you aren’t judging him. You’re nudging him, not so gently. You’re being for him what he is for you. A good friend. Sam has a tendency to drag his heels sometimes and his relationship with Eileen is one of the few things you’ve seen him jump into wholeheartedly. He is, after all, engaged in under a year. You’re beyond pleased because you’ve never seen him so happy, all you want is for Sam’s family to enjoy seeing that too. If you elbow him in the right direction it’s only because you know he’ll regret it down the road.

Besides, it’s not like Mary can scare Eileen away. She already said yes.

So, Dutch courage it is. You don’t condone drinking to excess in front of his parents but a few more beers wouldn’t hurt. They’d only loosen his lips.

The cooler is by the door to the kitchen, for easy refills whether that’s ice or beer. It’s out of the way. Most people stay close to the grill or their seat if they have managed to command one.

You assume your trip will be short and sweet. There’s no one else standing by the plastic box, which means no awkward cooler small talk to get trapped in. It’s half-empty but there are enough bottles that you won’t have to top it up even taking one for you and Sam. Then you stand up with a bottle in each hand, about to turn tail when at the edge of your peripheral you register Dean and Mary in the kitchen.

The window to the kitchen is wide and open and you should walk away. You almost walk away. Then Mary speaks and you can hear them so clearly that you have no choice. You duck down and sit precariously on top of the cooler.

“I know I’m not supposed to rush you but Dean, honey, I can’t stand it any longer. When are you going to announce it? I’m dying!”

Your interest is piqued. Unfortunately. It’s wrong, completely and utterly. Dean should be allowed his secrets whatever they are. Still, it’s not your fault that he chose to have this conversation, with his mother, in the kitchen. Where anyone could walk in or overhear them.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Although to be fair Dean doesn’t sound like a willing participant in this conversation, so maybe he doesn’t have a secret you have to worry about.

You don’t dare get up and peak through the glass since they sound quite close, but you hear Mary sigh.

“I heard her talking to Sam about it. How she wants to tell everyone and-and if it was up to her she’d have told us all already.”

The sound of the fridge opening and closing before he answers. “Still not following, Mom?”

“The proposal Dean. You asked her to marry you. She all but admitted it to me this morning and I’m so, so happy for you. I did think you’d talk to me first but… When am I getting my big announcement so we can celebrate?”

You suck in a breath and hope that it didn’t make a sound. If you can hear them it stands to reason they might hear you. Neither of them seems to. Or they’re distracted. Dean is silent for a too long beat, Mary is clearly confused, and she’s thrown you under the bus along with her, for good measure.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know what you think you heard…”

A pit forms in the bottom of your stomach at his tone, how against the idea he sounds. It’s fine, you try convincing yourself, he’s defending Sam’s secret.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean. I know you and your brother think I’m nuts but I want you both to be happy. That's all.”

There’s a part of you that knows you should stop this. Come to Dean's rescue and clarify. You could fix this in thirty seconds or less. That’s what you would do if you weren’t stuck like your feet are made of cement.

“You've gotta cool it with that, ok? Y/N is just a girl I’m dating, that’s it, and I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. You breathing down her neck won’t help anything.”

You have to remind yourself that you’d wanted to know his secret. But maybe you’d only wanted to know because you hoped, assumed, that he felt the same as you.

You’d never actually expected a proposal. Not for years. You’d have been happy with not getting one ever as long as you got Dean. He was your prize, not some ring. But his tone says you don’t have him in any way that you want, you’re just a girl he’s dating. Just a date. He didn’t even say girlfriend. He didn’t even say he likes you.

“Oh, well. I’m sorry. I must have had my wires crossed. I’ll leave it alone.” Mary sounds deflated and disappointed. About a tenth of the hurt you’re spiraling into.

She also sounds like her footsteps are getting closer.

You need to move this time. Because the only thing worse than hearing this conversation is one of them knowing you’d heard this conversation.

The beers get left on the decking next to the cooler you’re still balancing your weight on. You stay low, curled over, as you take long steps along the side of the house. Your immediate plan is to get out of the way while Mary re-enters the backyard but it’s a mere thirty seconds before Dean comes striding out after her. He looks around, maybe for you, maybe for anyone else, it doesn’t really seem like it matters.

You’ve been worrying if Dean loves you, if you would scare him off by telling him you do. You’d never considered that he’s not anywhere close to that. He might never be. 

Your mistake had been to immediately take solace in his room. It’s so his. It smells like him, every single thing reminds you of him. It’s the inanimate object version of going to cry in his arms.

It only made everything so much worse.

Though Dean’s room doesn’t contain a small library like Sam’s, there’s still a desk and a padded desk chair. The desk is covered in random things; a picture of him and Sam while Sam graduates Stanford, some sunglasses and amongst other things a small model car. A model of the impala that you’d toyed with while you were sneaking in some emails last night. He’d told you his dad gave it to him as a kid because his obsession with the car had begun early. However currently the chair is not where it is supposed to be. It’s wedged under his door handle because neither brother has a lock on their door.

You’ve spread out since you’ve been here. Your laptop is in the only free spot on his desk, your case is open on the floor where you’ve been living from it for two days now. Not to mention your things everywhere, a mascara here, or a lipstick there. At home, you only manage to stay any semblance of tidy because everything has its place but this is Dean’s space. It’s not even his, it’s his teenage space, somewhere he outgrew but visits every once in a while. Not even he completely fits in here anymore.

The point is you clearly don’t belong. Not even an inch. Dean liked you but that was it. As painful as it is to admit that’s not enough anymore. You’ve outgrown dates and sex, well, you’ve outgrown only having those things. For the first time in your life, you want the next step and Dean doesn’t. That’s the risk you take when you care about someone, getting hurt is always a possibility.

The only problem is you promised yourself no more pretending. Last year was enough for a lifetime. So, you can’t skip back downstairs and pretend you hadn’t heard what you did. You can’t sit next to him and watch fireworks and not be heartbroken.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” There’s a knock at the door that spooks the makeup you’d been collecting out of your hands. You don’t answer him instead, you scramble for the things you’ve dropped and scoop them up faster.

He twists the doorknob and you carry on your task because the chair will protect you.

Then the door starts moving. You expect to hear resistance after a second but the room is filled with the squeak of plastic wheels.

You’d forgotten that the damn chair is on wheels.

The makeup is dropped again, spilling out over the floor once more as you fall to your ass and slide across the carpet. You’d never managed anything close to a slide in baseball, never ever needed to learn one. Now you perfect it in all of two feet. Your feet plant either side of the chair and your hands wrap around the seat pushing it back until the door closes again. This was a mistake, the chair is only making it harder to push back, you should have moved it and shoved yourself against the door, it’s just too late for a redo.

“Hey, hey. Open the door.” It’s hard to tell if he’s angry, he mostly sounds urgent.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, still, it’s impossible to find the words to answer him. You don’t want to say something you’ll regret, or can’t take back, even if you’re hurt. In your silence, he keeps pushing, literally and figuratively.

He twists the handle again but this time there’s a little weight on his side. The weight pushes against the chair and by extension you. It’s not his full weight, he’s bigger than you though so even his half weight is starting to force you backward. You scramble to gain some traction, planting your feet better, shoving some more. The carpet gives you some friction but not enough to help against the force of Dean Winchester. You keep moving.

After a minute things are about a hundred miles south of ridiculous. You love ridiculous, when you’re not trying to run away that is.

Dean is one foot in the room, thick fingers wrapped around the door and his head pushed in looking at you. There’s a confused knot in his forehead while he takes in exactly what he’s forced his way to look at.

You straddling the bottom part of his desk chair, shoved against the door, and looking up at him wildly.

“Really, sweetheart?” He asks with a mix of frustration in his eyes and a curl on his lips, “what the hell?”

That’s enough to snap you out of it and jump up from the floor. Your hands smooth over the wrinkles in your jeans as if nothing happened. “Hi, Dean. Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

You may be hurting, sure, but if your parents taught you anything it’s how to cover any emotion with pragmatic denial.

He steps all the way into the room now without you in the way. “Someone else? Comin’ into my room, looking for you?”

“Could have been anyone,” you shrug. Careful to keep your voice steady and neutral while you go back to collecting your twice dropped makeup from the floor. “Wouldn’t want any of your cousins to wander in here.”

“Right. Because they’re leaving the yard while there’s food on the grill, come on it’s like-”

“I heard what you said to your Mom.” The last thing you wanted to say makes it to the tip of your tongue anyway, as you dispense the collected make up into your case like a dump truck.

He parts those lips of his, which means he’s worried about something and then he smiles. He smiles at you while you’re doing everything not to cry.

There’s a quiver in your voice despite yourself, “it’s fine I get it. I wish you’d told me yourself but I can’t do anything about that. And I know I shouldn’t have been listening in and I’m sorry. Can you give me a few minutes to get sorted please?”

Dean cocks his head, takes a step closer to you, and then stops when you grimace, “what?”

“You said you-that we-I’m not expecting anything but I thought I was more than ‘just another girl’ you’re dating.” You shake your head, trying to stop those tears now you’ve said it out loud. Feeling your vision blur and wobble anyway. “Like I said it’s fine. I’m getting out of here though. I found a flight home, there’s no point in you driving me home eleven hours when it’s four to St Louis.”

Not to mention the fact that you couldn’t stand to sit in the car with him that long while you’re feeling like this.

“Woah, Woah, Woah baby.” He doesn’t pause this time. He doesn’t care about your frown as he approaches you, he’s more concerned about fixing whatever you have gotten in your head. He’s on you in an instant. One warm hand on your shoulders and one at your chin, lifting your face to his and taking in all your sadness. You hate that he’s making you stare into his eyes like this. Those green, soulful eyes had been one of the first things you noticed on his beautiful dumb face and now this feels like a goodbye. Of course, it's not a goodbye. He’s trying to tell you just by looking at you that you’re a goddamn idiot. “Have you met my mom? Remember when she asked if you were pregnant when you’d been dating Sam like a month?”

“Fake dating. Why does everyone forget I was fake dating him?”

He chuckles, “‘course. Faking. Well, you heard her, right? She thinks we’re the ones getting hitched. Imagine if I’d thrown fuel on the fire and told her that you’re my girl, I love you and that you’re it for me.”

There’s a big, huge lump in your throat stopping you breathing. Too gigantic to swallow down. Tears still want to rain over your face, again, but you refuse to be the girl that cries because her boyfriend, who she loves, finally told her what she’s been waiting to hear.

Wait, you need to say something back.

“I love you too.”

His smile is slow and lazy but it’s perfectly timed with how gently his body leans in to kiss you. His shoulders drop while you’re sighing into his mouth like every romantic comedy heroine. His hands still on your shoulders relax their hold a little and you realize, he might have been doubting how you felt too.

“That’s good to know.” He breathes. “But see if I’d have told my mom all that, with the whole family here, she’d have us shotgun married before I got the chance to actually ask you.”

Your eyes widen, “no. You’re not?”

“Nah, planning on knocking those socks off when I do. Fair warning though, that’s coming.”

A strangled laugh comes out of you because you are, and have always been, the stupidest person alive. Dean loves you. He loves you and you love him. And why have you waited so long to say it?

“Move in with me?” It seems like the next best thing to every sweet thing he just said. It’s not enough but for once you’re happy to be second best in a conversation. You’ve been thinking about it long enough, hating the distance and the weekends you’ve spent apart. It’s so obvious that you should have worked it out months ago.

“What?” He gives you the pleasure of seeing his goofy confused face while your finger traces the curve of his bottom lip. In case you ever forget.

“Move in with me. Move to Chicago to be with me. Benny can manage in St. Louis and you can open a second location... or be chief of police or a fireman or just eat deep dish all the day long, whatever you want. Be with me in Chicago? Everyday? Sam’s there too. How can you be his best man from three hundred miles away?”

Another kiss and a bigger grin that comes from his chest, not even you expected it to be this easy. Which is more of that stupidity because with Dean it’s always easy. You can only imagine how rosy your cheeks are as he answers, “you had me at pizza.”

You get to the foot of the stairs when Sam pops out of the living room. You’ve schooled your beaming grin into something more subdued because you don’t want to draw focus but Sam’s probably still just waiting for his beer. He tilts his head down and asks, “you good?”

Before you can tell him that you have never been better, Dean saunters down the steps behind you without any concern for drawing attention. “Sammy, how many times have I told you, you can’t have her back. She’s mine now.”

Sam purses his lips at his brother, which is still funny to you, and you press a hand to his chest to distract him from their brother games. “We’re all good Sam, I’ll fill you in later. The important thing is are you ready to go? Weekend is nearly over.”

He smiles at you, “couldn’t do it without my legal eagle.”

Finally, he gets it. “Legal eagles for life, Sam.”

“You two are a pair of dorks.” Dean slumps an arm over both of your shoulders, “I can’t believe I love a dork even dorkier than my dork brother.”

If Sam notices any difference or the massive L-word Dean dropped, he keeps his reaction in check. Besides he’s engrossed in something else, he kind of has something huge to announce to his whole family right now. Something you’ve been dying to witness since he told you.

You turn in Dean’s arm to threaten him, “he can still drop you and make me best man, you know that, right?”

Dean feigns anger, “he would never.”

“Keep talking pretty boy and see how fast I’m planning the bachelor party.”

“She thinks I’m pretty.” Dean turns his head to smile at Sam and involve him in your sparring match, you know since best man is his decision, but Sam is now bitch facing the pair of you.

He doesn’t say anything, just swings an arm out towards the kitchen and beyond that the backyard. An annoyed invitation to join him and his fiance for the big moment you’ve all been waiting for.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on De. Let’s go let Sammy-boo and Leney-bear be as disgusting as we are.”

You’re already in the kitchen when Sam shouts after you, “I told you not to call us that!”

“Eileen said she didn’t mind!”

Weirdly, the party in the backyard is exactly how you left it and yet you feel like everything changed, for the better, in the last twenty minutes.

Eileen sees all three of you step out of the house and senses that its time. Or Sam had already told her it was before he went looking for you. Either way, she walks over to Sam who magically ends up in the middle of the yard.

You can feel the excitement buzzing from Dean where he’s standing next to you, you bet he’s feeling that from you too.

“Hey everyone, I kind of have an announcement,” Sam calls out.

Most of them look around but nobody moves and he hasn’t captured everyone's attention in the way John does at the baseball game. For some reason that line from Highlander pops into your head, there can only be one. It’s a concerted effort not to snort at your own joke.

John is, however, one of the people that heard Sam so he hollers, “cut it out, Sammy’s got something to say.”

That’ll do it. The music shuts off and everyone gathers in a circle around Sam and Eileen. You notice then that Eileen’s ring has appeared back on her finger. You know she had it on a necklace until this announcement but the sleight of hand to make it happen is impressive.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll keep this short and sweet because I know you’re all waiting on more food but while we had everyone here we thought we should tell you all.”

Somehow, you hear Mary’s heart stop from twenty feet away.

“As most of you know Eileen and I met just over a year ago,” a few people who haven't been briefed share looks since he’d been ‘dating’ you last year. “And well, I’ve never been happier or more in love with someone in my life. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and a few weeks ago I got my act together and asked her to marry me.”

Eileen holds up her hand then, beaming, ‘and I said yes!”

They had to have rehearsed that on the flight.

Chaos ensues. Everyone claps and cheers and people try to move in to congratulate them. Above all of that Mary screams like she’s being murdered. She rushes forward letting every thought in her head fall out of her mouth, “But I thought Dean and Y/N… so you’re telling me it was you all along? Oh Sammy, sweetie, I am so, so happy for you. Oh god, I’m so proud of you.” She wraps her arms around him and crushes him. “And I’m so happy you’re going to be part of the family!” She lets go of her son to give Eileen the same bruising hug.

“Well done, son.” John claps Sam on the back with, you think, the faintest hint of proud tears in his eyes.

Dean wraps his arm around you then like he'd been unable to do it until everything with Sam was ok. You lean into his chest and whisper only loud enough for him, "he's going to be so excited about you being in the city with us."

"You think?"

"I know it. Granted not as excited as me."

He rests his chin on the top of your head, slotting you into him like a puzzle piece.

In the background, it goes on and on until everyone has said something to the happy couple. Even Bobby gets this choked noise caught in his throat. The whole display is actually very touching.

When they finish the mayhem John proposes a toast in which everyone raises their drinks. Then the drinking and eating continue, with much more vigor than before. The whole thing goes from a Fourth of July celebration to a party. The music is a little more upbeat, the hard liquor is brought out early and the hum of everyone feels excited.

Sam—who has been hugged, pinched and shoved playfully enough to last him till the end of days—wanders over to you and Dean with his fiance in tow. “Are you happy now?” He directs the question at you specifically.

You reach up to grab his face with both hands and jiggle his head while you baby-talk to him, “my little Sammy, I’m so proud of you.”

Dean and Eileen both laugh and it's one of those perfect moments you only expect to see in the movies. You realize then that with these three people around you could actually look forward to the Fourth of July with the Winchesters for years to come.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer​

[hale-13]

Triple Axel

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 1 - Freezing

There’s nothing Peter loves more about winter than spending the entire season ice skating. The fact that Mr. Stark‘s lake freezes over so well just gives him the perfect excuse to hang out with his mentor, pseudo-sister and still get to skate for free.

Words: 2738, Chapters 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Peter grew up a pretty graceless kid.

He never looked where he was going, always too excited, and tripped over air. His knees and palms were perpetually covered in cuts and scrapes in various stages of healing and he broke his glasses so often May and Ben had taken to just taping them together at the bridge of the nose instead of replacing them. Going to the community playground was an activity that was fraught with danger due to Peter’s over enthusiasm; well that and his two left feet and lack of hand-eye coordination. It was lucky that he picked up the, much safer, past time of building legos and other models with Ned at a young age.

Peter looked back on those sepia childhood memories with nostalgia and fondness now but he can remember the frustration of just wanting to do what the other kids did. He hated that he stood out because of his ridiculous coke-bottle glasses, the severe asthma attacks that kept him from participating in gym and recess. He just wanted to have fun.

And, unbelievable to anyone who knew him, the one thing that Peter Parker was inexplicably good at as a kid was ice skating.

The first time Peter was allowed to skate was when he was eight at Betty Brant’s birthday – coincidentally the first party he was invited to. May and Ben had both be overly hesitant – accident prone kids didn’t often mix well with anything slippery and sharp pointy objects – but Peter was able to wear them down eventually.

The prediction that Peter would fall flat on his face the second his skates touched the ice proved to be accurate but Peter was nothing if not stubborn so he pulled himself up and used the wall to make a shaky first lap. The longer he spent moving, the better he got and, by the end of the two hour party, he was able to make a complete circuit all by himself. His love for skating and finally, finally, being able to do something active grew from there. May and Ben were never able to afford lessons for him but they managed to scrap together enough money for season passes for him every year at the local rink.

Skating reminded him so much of the toddler ballet classes his mom had signed him up for before he had been diagnosed with asthma but so much more fun. He spent just about every weekend he could on the ice for a few hours practicing; he was never really able to do any jumps or anything too fancy but it was still so much fun. It wasn’t until after the spider bite and his life changing forever that he got really good.

It sure sucked that he couldn’t thermoregulate well anymore.

“Petey!” Morgan screamed, delighted, from where she was carefully skating closer to the edge of the frozen over lake under the watchful eye of her father. “Do another flip!”

Peter smiled indulgently and performed a perfect double axel, landing gracefully and gliding over to where Morgan was clapping next to dock. She had good balance for a five year old but the thin blades of her tiny skates still wobbled precariously on the ice due to her enthusiastic cheering.

“Not bad kid,” Tony told him from where he was seated in a camp chair on the dock and covered with blankets, a thermos of warm tea in the cup holder. He had flat out refused to test his luck with skating but, then again, his center of gravity was still off from his upgraded prosthesis.

“Thanks Mr. Stark!” Peter smiled, coming to a stop next to the other two and spraying his mentor with ice. Tony protested wordlessly but his smile let Peter know he wasn’t too serious. Peter absently rubbed his hands against his biceps to bring some warmth back into his skin – part of not thermoregulating well meant minimal to no shivering in the cold so he had to rely on friction – he was clearly not sneaky enough though because he could see the moment Tony clocked the movement and narrowed his eyes.

“Alright Johnny Weir time to go in before you freeze into a spider-sicle,” the man said as he drained the last of his tea and started packing up all of the stuff they had carted down to the frozen lake – more than they really needed in Peter’s opinion. “I promised your aunt I wouldn’t let you get hypothermia this week.”

“Aw daddy,” Morgan whined, skating unsteadily over to collide with Peter’s knees and shins and nearly knocking him off balance and onto his butt. “Five more minutes? Please?”

Morgan was attempting her very best puppy dog expression and Peter joined in when she shoved her pointy little elbow into his thigh. Tony had gotten soft in his old age and Peter could see his resolve crumbling under their combined gaze before he finally cracked with a sigh.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Five more minutes. I’m going to go brew up some hot chocolate. Can I trust you two by yourselves?”

“Yay!” Morgan screamed making Peter clutch his ears as she shakily skated off, getting just a little bolder and heading more toward the middle of the ice where Peter had been doing jumps and flips earlier. “Come on Petey!”

“I’ve got her Mr. Stark,” Peter promised before taking off after the little girl he was beginning to see as a sister, doing a perfect back flip and landing easily on the thin blades of his skates to her delight. At Morgan’s request, Peter continued to skate around her in wide circles, doing more and more elaborate jumps and laughing with her when he fell or stumbled.

“Do the hard one again!” Morgan called out from her spot about fifteen feet away from Peter, standing pretty steady for her lack of practice and Peter smiled indulgently.

“Last time and then we should probably head in before your dad comes after us,” he agreed, skating back into a wide arc before picking up speed and calculating his jump. He planned to land a few feet from Morgan because he knew it would really excite her. Things went pretty great in the beginning, his speed and takeoff were both perfect and his execution, while a little off, was passable enough for his sister.

His landing, however, needed work.

Unlike the ice rink ice he was used to, the frozen lake was pitted and rough. Peter had a little difficultly adjusting when he started but was able to compensate quickly as the afternoon wore on. Unfortunately, he was just a little too late this time to notice the divot and he hit it with his toe pick sending him sprawling onto his front about six feet from Morgan.

“Ouchies,” he muttered as he gave Morgan a thumbs up to show he was okay and started to leaver himself up.

Until he heard the cracking.

He froze immediately and looked down in horror to see the ice below him cracking and shattering. A small part of him wanted to slam his body down flat to better distribute his weight but his logical brain knew it was far too late for that all he needed to do was make sure that…

Morgan!

“I’ll help you Petey!” He heard her yell seconds before she crashed into his side and Peter, thinking fast, double clicked the panic button on his watch just as water started gushing through the cracks, pulling him under.

Morgan screamed and struggled as Peter did his best to keep as much of her as possible out of the water. His head was dunked briefly and his lungs seized from the cold. He felt the sharp blade of Morgan’s skate cut into his shoulder through his puffy jacket and he winced before clawing his way back above water with a gasp. He could hear Morgan still screaming and, gathering all the strength he had left, Peter hurled her from the water and across the ice where she slid safely away from the cracks.

“G-get dad-d,” Peter gritted out through shattering teeth as he gripped the broken edges of the ice. He could vaguely hear Morgan shuffling off the ice and up toward the cabin but his main focus was staying above the water and keeping purchase on the continually shrinking edges of the ice. His legs were completely numb and the metal of his battered skates felt heavy in the water, pulling him down deeper.

“Hang on Peter!” He heard Tony’s panicked voice from the shore before the sound of repulsers drowned out everything else and Peter looked up and made eye contact with the Iron Man suit piloted by FRIDAY. The left hand reached down and plucked him out of the water and into its arms, flying back to land on the porch steps. Peter collapsed on the ground, completely unable to hold up his own weight and feeling completely numb. “Peter!”

Tony skidded to his knees next to Peter, Morgan in his arms before he swiftly set her down on the porch. “C-cold,” Peter gritted out through clenched and chattering teeth as he tried to force his frozen body to curl up with little success. Through blurry eyes he could tell that Morgan had ditched her skates somewhere and he felt a spike of worry – he didn’t want her to get frostbite.

“I know buddy,” Tony said, propping Peter up with his vibranium arm before picking him up in a bridal carry. “I’m going to get you warm.” Peter didn’t do anything to help beyond curling closer to Tony’s chest and the body heat it emitted. The man kicked open the cracked door to the mud room and air so warm it burned cascaded over him. “Morgan go grab some blankets from the closet for Peter okay? Really quick now.” Morgan, crying silent tears and pale and shivering in her damp winter gear, ran off down the hall toward the linen closet.

“Tony,” Peter whimpered when he was set on the floor but the man was quick to shush him.

“I know buddy,” he reassured, “I just need to get these wet clothes off okay? Just let me do all the work. FRI, have Banner and a quinjet here ASAP.” Peter spaced out as Tony whipped Peter’s frozen, wet hoodie over his head followed quickly by the t-shirt and thermals under it. “Eyes up Pete,” Tony ordered as he worked on getting Peter out of his soaked jeans and thermal pants to leave him shaking on the floor in his boxers. “Your only job right now is to stay awake, capiche?\

“Yes sir,” Peter said, willing his eyes to open and his teeth to stop chattering. Morgan slid back into the room trailing a pile of fleece blankets and the comforter off of Peter’s bed and Peter mustered up a smile for her so she wouldn’t be so scared.

“Great job Maguna,” Tony praised as he wrapped the thickest fleece around Peter’s shoulders, doing his best not to jostle him too much. “Now run up to Pete’s room and get him a pair of sweatpants and his black zip up jacket okay?” Morgan hiccuped on a sob but ran out of the room and back up the stairs. Once she was out of the room, Tony wrapped Peter in another blanket before helping him wiggle out of his icy boxers. “FRI update on Bruce?”

“Dr. Banner and Mr. Wilson are on their way, ETA seven minutes. He advises getting Peter out of his wet clothes and wrapped in warm blankets. He recommends not moving him too much.

“Thanks dear,” Mr. Starks said distractedly as he pulled Peter into his arms to provide extra warmth. “How we doing Pete?”

“Tired,” Peter answered, burrowing into Tony’s arms. “Cold.”

“I know kiddo, just hold on a second longer.”

“I got it!” Morgan said as she came back into the room brandishing Peter’s clothes.

“Good job honey,” Tony said as gently as possible as he took the clothes. “Uncle Bruce is on his way and we’re going to go visit the compound. Can you go change into your warmest PJs for me as quick as possible?” As soon as Morgan had left the room again, Tony made quick work of threading Peter’s unwilling and stiff limbs through his pants and jacket, tucking the comforter around them both to lock in the warmth.

“Tony?” Bruce called, voice urgent, from the direction of the front door.

“Mud room!” Tony called back, not moving from his position curled around Peter’s limp body. Footsteps thundered in their direction and Bruce and Sam skidded around the corner a second later both wearing their warmest loungewear and Peter felt a little guilty about pulling them away from a day of relaxation.

“Jesus,” Sam mumbled as he dropped to his knees next to the pair reaching into the blanket nest to press burning fingers to Peter’s carotid to take his pulse.

“How long was he in the water?” Bruce asked, carefully moving Peter’s hair back out of his eyes to look at his pale face. His eyes darted over to the gash on his shoulder from Morgan’s skates that was beginning to bleed sluggishly now that Peter was out of the water and warming up but ignored it for now.

“Only a couple minutes,” Tony told him, an edge to his voice, “but he had been outside for a few hours. We were about to come in for hot chocolate.” The man sounded bereft and Peter cuddled closer into his chest trying to offer some comfort.

“Okay,” Bruce said, calm. “Peter you’re going to let Tony carry you out to the jet. I don’t want you moving more than you absolutely have to so just let him do all the work. Once we get you on board I’m going to start warming you up.” His tone brokered no argument and Tony disentangled himself from the cocoon and picked Peter up. Sam left the room but Peter could hear him talking to Morgan in the kitchen, calming her down and ushering her toward the jet.

Things went a little fuzzy for Peter from there. He was vaguely aware of the quinjet taking off and Bruce and Sam starting warm IV fluid. Warmed oxygen forcing its way down his throat. But he was just so tired. He knows he promised but surely Mr. Stark wouldn’t be too upset if he just took a little nap right? He let his eyes dip closed one last time as he slipped away.

Peter can remember waking up on and off a few times. He remembers getting off the quinjet and being settled in a trauma room in the compound’s MedBay, the heated blankets that felt heavenly to his cold skin. He was out for a while after that he thinks and, when he next wakes up, he’s warmer and much more comfortable.

“Pete?” Peter lets his head fall to the side and he gives Tony a little grin. His mentor looks like shit and is sitting hunched over in an uncomfortable chair next to Peter’s bed. “Oh thank God,” he says, going to grab Peter’s hand and then aborting the motion, leaning forward to press their foreheads together instead. “If you ever scare me like that again you’re grounded until your thirty.”

Peter chuckles a little and shifts on the bed. His arms both have IV catheters in the forearm and he can see blood flowing through the lines. He follows it back to a larger machine set up next to his bed and mutters a hoarse little “what?” of confusion.

“You were too cold so Bruce started warming your blood,” Tony told him, hand reaching up to comb through Peter’s wild hair. “You’re okay now though,” he assured. “You’re on the mend. Bruce said you should be done with this in about an hour so you just need to relax right now okay Bambino?”

“Morgan?” Peter asked instead, dizzy and tired and barely clinging to consciousness.

Tony smiled down at him. “She’s just fine kiddo. You saved her you big damn hero.”

“Good,” Peter slurred, letting his eyes slip closed again. “May?”

“Happy went to get her,” Tony promised. “The roads aren’t too great but they should be here soon.”

“‘Kay,” Peter yawned.

“Take a nap buddy – you earned it,” and, warm and comfortable, Peter did.

[supersonic-darling]

Beach Day Headcannons

Josh

So I think we can all agree that Josh is the Sun King™ as demonstrated in the best summer Josh fic ever by @garbagevanfleet​

I mean literally he is a golden god and his home is the beach

Anyway, so you’d arrive down to the beach good and early.

As much as Josh likes to sleep in late when It comes to a beach day he’s up and ready and raring to go

You bring the whole set up – towels, umbrella, wind breaker whole bag of snacks, the works.

Despite Josh’s care free spontaneous nature he is so organised and has definitely part planned the whole day

You spend the morning settling in; laying out in the morning sun reading your books

Watching as Josh gets bored within five minutes and gets up to build a mini sand fort around you

“Gotta protect the crown jewels honey”

By mid-day he’s piled sand all over your bottom half and turned you into “A Mermaid Mama” he smiles cheekily before running off into the sea, looking back for you to follow him

Messing about in the sea with Josh

He definitely has a waterproof camera for maximum filming opportunities

You spend the afternoon taking weird photos with Josh, above and below the water

Tonnes of cute couple photos are taken and Josh loves every single one of them and has a bunch in his wallet which he looks at on tour

Especially the one of you wet and covered in sand smiling down at the camera

When he’s laying in his bunk hundreds of miles away on tour he likes to bring them out and think of being with you again

 Sam

Sam is very laid back and so are the beach days

He does bring a massive canvas bag but its largely filled with a reusable water bottle, polaroid camera and a bamboo box of snacks (bought from the shops because he can only cook soup!)

You go down to the beach with just your hand-woven towels (because Sam is that bitch) and pitch up somewhere where near the rocks, where you can be in the shade

You spend most of the day listening to music together, one earphone each as you lay there talking

Sam likes to play with your hair when your head is in his lap, curling strands around his fingers or running his long fingers at your roots

When it gets a little warmer Sam suggests going to get iced smoothies to cool down

He isn’t that much of a water man

He doesn’t mind it if he’s with the guys and they’re all goofing about but really he’d rather just lay on the beach and not get his hair wet with sea water

He does like taking aesthetic photos of the both of you though

The bright azure blue of the sky contrasting with the sun bouncing off your skin is one of his favourites

If you go for a dip he’ll come with you just to take photos from the shore

He does not appreciate being splashed but he admits that it is the best photo of the day

You end the day when the sun sets, watching it together with one of the beach towels wrapped around the both of you

 Jake

Beach days with Jake, much like Josh, are meticulously planned

Unlike Josh, Jake doesn’t stray from the plan

Your beach days do start a little later than the others though

Jake likes to sleep in late and is not going to give that up for the sake of a few more hours at the beach

‘It’ll be there in a few hours time still”

Getting down to the beach just before mid day

Luckily Jake has already scouted out a nice secluded area for the two of you to set up for the day

Your day is pretty chill, you lay there reading together for a bit

Maybe listen to some music on your phones

You both zone out looking up at the sky – until you feel Jake move beside you and look over to see him playing air guitar

You can tell, even with his sunglasses on, that he’s got his eyes closed

Jake gets energised in the afternoon and you both end up in the sea up to your hips as you mess about together

As the sun sets and the beach is a lot quieter than earlier Jake gets more comfortable with pda

Wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you around in the water

He’s much more touchy and likes to nestle his nose into your neck as he holds you – feeling the waves crash around you and the scent of the sea on your skin

He thinks the salty beach wave look looks good on him but soon regrets it by the time you get home and his scalp itches with salt water

 Danny

I feel like beach days with Danny are actually pretty adventurous in comparison with the brothers

Like, you end up at the beach after a coastal walk or something

You knew that you’d end up at the beach so you brought your swim suits but also hiking boots

You guys spend the day climbing rocks and jumping into the sea (yes I am thinking of that photo)

Danny likes picking you up in the water and threatening to throw you in

(he likes that you cling to him as he laughs)

Lots of goofy photos are taken (a bit like Jake but less cinematic and framed)

Danny’s wet hair  😍 he complains later on when it gets tangled but he loves it when you brush it out gently for him

Danny falls asleep at the beach

Like an overexcited puppy he goes mad when he gets there and then needs a nap

Not that you mind, he sleeps on his front and you entertain yourself moving the little droplets of water around on his back with your finger

When he wakes up he’s covered in sand that doesn’t seem to want to come off

You hear about it the whole drive home an as you’re laying on the bed and he’s in thw shower next door

Babe it’s everywhere, come look!

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 8

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1534

Warnings:  Pregnancy

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 8: Return to the Tower

Our honeymoon was over too soon, though I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t missing my babies like crazy.  We picked them and the puppies up from Sam’s sister and took them straight to the tower.

It was strange going back to the tower but not in a bad way.  I had a lot of happy memories attached to the building.  This was where I fell in love with my family.  Going up in the elevator, all of us crammed together - we were going home.

The elevator opened up right into the penthouse.  It was a huge open space, the ceiling seemed to start at what would be normally two stories above us and funneled up as it got to the window on the opposite side, so it was several stories of glass overlooking the city and acted as the focal point of the room.  Closest to the window was an open circular sitting area that had a modern chandelier hanging over it.  It was slightly raised and there were plenty of seats for all of us and more to sit around, and despite how large it looked, it also looked cozy and inviting.  In the center of the space, a glass spiral staircase led to the upper floors, and running down the middle of it was a glassed-in fountain, the water running right down the glass.  My immediate thought seeing it was that it would be a great place to put the glass Thor and I had inadvertently made.

Directly to the left and right of the elevator were rooms split into two levels each with stairs running up in a curve along the lower level.  The bottom level of each was a solid wall with large dark wood doors, while the top levels had glass walls.  Along with sculptures and other decorative pieces, there were various paintings, photographs on the solid walls.  None matched and yet they all worked together.  It included things like a Monet, photographs of the city skyline from the early 40s, artwork featuring the Avengers that you could find in poster form at Walmart, and photos we’d taken of each other or the kids, printed onto canvas.

“Alright, so,” Tony said as we spilled into the entryway.  The puppies immediately just took off, running around and sniffing everything.  “On the left, there’s a cinema room on the bottom and games and playroom on the top.  On the right is the kitchen and above it a home gym.”

He led us toward the sitting area.  “The bedrooms are all upstairs,” he said as we passed the stairs.  “I cut the number for us down to just three.  One big family one and two spares for when we might need space.  There are more kids’ rooms and a nursery.”  We reached the sitting area which brought the rest of the space into view.  On the right was a dining area with a large glass table and a bar at the far end.  To the left was some more entertaining space. Couches, a big-screen TV, and a grand piano.  “There are bathrooms at either end and obviously more upstairs.  What do you think?”

“It’s perfect, Tony,” Steve said.

Clint collapsed down on one of the couches and put his feet on the coffee table.  “I think to celebrate our triumphant return to the city, we should order a bunch of pizza.”

“What a surprise that you’d suggest that, Clint?”  Natasha said, sitting down next to him.

“What?  Pizza is good,” Clint argued.

“You heard the man, FRIDAY,” Tony said.  “You know what we like.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI replied.

“Where’s dis?”  Riley asked as she walked over to the window and pressed her face against it.

“This is our new home,” Tony answered.  “What do you think?”

“Dis isn’t home,” Pietro said.  “No…”

“Oh, honey,” Bruce cooed, going down on one knee and drawing Pietro close with one large green hand.  “We still have the other house and this one means you get to go to a nice school.”

“But I wike da outside.  Dis too high up,” Pietro sobbed, his lip quivering.  “And my books.”

“Come here, bumblebee,” Bruce said, scooping him up.

Pietro started crying and hid his face in Bruce’s arm.  “I wanna go home.”

Bruce carried Pietro over to the window.  “Your books and toys and clothes are all in your bedroom.  We can take you to the park and look - look at all the things you can see up here.”

Pietro poked his head up from where he was hiding it in Bruce’s arm.  “So much,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Pretty cool, huh, buddy?”  Clint said.  “And there’s a garden just downstairs with a slide and even a pool.  We can go there every day with the puppies.”

“This is where your new brothers and sisters will be born and where you’ll start making lots of friends who are your age,” Bruce soothed.

“Kids?”  Riley asked.

“Daddy Tony worked really hard on your bedrooms too,” Bruce said.

“It’s true,” Tony agreed.  “Your bed is up in the roof and has a special walkway to it, so it looks like your bed is in a tree.  And Riley’s looks like a pirate ship.  And if you don’t want to sleep in different rooms, that’s okay, because the wall can move the wall and you’ll be in the same room.”

“An’ my books are hewre?”  Pietro asked.

“Yeah, all your books are here,” Bruce assured him.  “Will you give it a go?  For us?” 

“Otay,” Pietro said, softly.

“Why don’t we all have a nice movie night?”  Steve suggested.  “We can make some popcorn and eat our pizza while we watch Frozen.”

“Yeah!”  Riley said, bouncing over to him.  Steve scooped her up and spun her upside down, making her squeal loudly and a breeze pick up in the room.

“Then let's go make some popcorn!”  He carried her out to the kitchen, and Bruce followed after him carrying Pietro.”

“So, how’s this gonna work?”  I asked, taking a seat on the couch.  “I mean, staff wise and going into work.”

“Well for starters, you’re not doing Avengers stuff while you’re pregnant, so you don’t have to worry about going into work,” Tony said, folding his arms over his chest.

“If I knew you were going to be such a pest, I wouldn’t have said yes,” I snarked.

Clint snorted.  “Like you didn’t know he was going to be like that.”

“We all do agree though.  You guys need to take it easy while you’re pregnant.  No missions and backing off on the training,” Sam said.  “Even Nat.”

Natasha shrugged.  “It’s true.”

“Traitor,” I pouted.

“The labs are still here, including your one,” Tony said.  “You can still do that, and I’m going to focus more on R&D over Avenging too.”

“Fine,” I huffed.

Clint started laughing and he put his arm around me and pulled me close.  “You’re worse than the twins.”

“The landing bay for the Quin is directly under the garden,” Tony said.

“And there are offices here as well as the training arena.  So we’ll keep up with what we can here, and when we’re needed we’ll use the Quin,” Sam said.  “Probably one or two of us will go over to the compound every day, but by Quin, it’s only a half-hour.  Hopefully, it starts running without us being there all the time and we’ll just be desk-jockeys unless it’s something big.  And then with all the new enhanced popping up, hopefully, we can basically bow out of the hero-ing game and focus on the training and parenting game.”

“That’ll be good,” Bucky hummed, stretching back on the couch and putting his hands over his head.  “Maybe I can go back to school.”

“That would be wonderful, Bucky,” Wanda said.  “This could be a chance for all of us to get the things we missed out on.”

I smiled and hummed, curling into Clint’s side.  “We’ll almost be normal.”

“There ain’t nothing normal about us,” Clint said, pulling me close.

“We may not be normal, but we are happy,” Thor said.  “That is better.”

“Yeah, it is, you big softie,” Sam teased.  Thor laughed, pulling Sam close and kissing his cheek.

“The pizza has arrived, do you want security to bring it up?”  FRIDAY announced.

“Yes, please, FRIDAY,” Sam said,

Steve came out holding both the twins and he was followed by Bruce who had a huge bowl of popcorn in one hand and a box of soda’s under his arm.  “Come on you lot,” Steve announced.  “Time to have some family time with our kiddos, who we missed so much.”

The kids giggled and kicked their legs and we all got up and followed after them.  The pizza arrived as we were heading into the cinema room.  Clint and Sam collected it and Bucky called the dogs along.  They immediately followed him into the darkened room thanks to his new powers and jumped up onto the recliners with the kids.  As I settled into the large reclining seat and Wanda tucked herself into my side, pulling a blanket over both of us, I relaxed.  It was good to finally be home.

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