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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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We’ve Got Tonight || LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x singer!reader Summary: When you catch your boyfriend cheating you get your sweet revenge and a handsome stranger who steps in to protect you. Warnings: being cheated on, angst, injury

Songs: Shania Twain - Man! I feel like a woman Garth Brooks - Friends in low places Carrie Underwood - Before he cheats Kenny Rogers & Sheena Easton - We’ve got tonight

Lando couldn’t believe he had let Daniel drag him out to the Texan bar. It was completely polar opposite to anything he was used to, but Danny fit right in with his Stetson hat and cowboy boots.

Lando winced into his glass as the latest woman to take the corner stage butchered a Shania Twain song but it didn’t seem to bother his drinking buddy as he left to join the rows of people line dancing. Lando was grateful when the song came to an end but it was short lived as he heard a familiar Australian accent on the mic talking the band into playing Friends in Low Places. Spinning around on his stool at the bar, the McLaren driver found his old teammate on the small stage grinning like a fool as the music started.

Lando watched the older driver and envied the confidence he had to sing terribly to a bar full of strangers. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t hold a note or match the key - Daniel had presence and was always entertaining. The song was almost over when a change of light caught Lando’s eye and he swivelled back to see the saloon doors swing shut behind you.

Lando nearly fell off his chair. The sight of your smile was dazzling and he swore the colours in the room were brighter because of it. He hardly remembered to breathe as you cast your eyes around the bar, searching for something he suddenly hoped he had. Disappointment landed heavy on his chest as your pretty eyes settled on the pool tables and he wondered which one of the handsome men was lucky enough to have you.

He started to turn away and wash the bitter taste of jealousy from his mouth with his drink when he saw the smile dim. It was like a cloud had come and blocked the sun, shadows curving your lips down until they pressed to a hard line and your eyes narrowed on a man. Lando swallowed at the change thinking you was even more beautiful, like lightning in a thunderstorm. Beautiful, dangerous, deadly.

Then you were gone, the tassels on your boots swaying quickly as you disappeared out the door as quickly as you came.

“Whatcha looking for?” Daniel asked as he dropped back into his seat. Lando hadn’t even noticed the song had ended while he watched the empty space in the doorway, another singer taking the stage.

“N-nothing,” he stammered quickly as he turned back to the bar and raised his glass to his dry lips.

“Whatever you say, mate,” Daniel chuckled as he clapped Lando on the back. “She was hot though, right?”

Lando coughed and sputtered on his drink as Daniel laughed knowingly. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but I’m not blind. And since you’re single, you should get off your ass and lasso yourself a lady friend. You know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowgir-” Lando clamped a hand over Daniel’s mouth as his cheeks turned pink.

��You can’t say that, dude! You are totally going to get cancelled one day.”

Daniel shrugged and sent him a lopsided grin as he looked over Lando’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”

—

White hot rage left your hands shaking as you dropped the baseball bat and walked away, the metal clanking loudly on the asphalt of the parking lot. You didn’t even notice the trickle of blood running down your fingertips from cutting your palm with Damon’s hunting knife when you slashed the tyres of his Ford Raptor. You couldn’t feel anything except the burning need for revenge.

All the joy you had felt on the drive to the bar had been forgotten. The phone call with the news seemed like a lifetime ago and you hated him all the more for ruining what should have been the best day of your life so far.

After years of hard work you were finally catching a break and had been signed to Big Loud and would soon be recording your own country music. You had been so excited you had left work early and driven across town to surprise Damon. What a surprise he would get.

You looked ahead at the bar you had left, still seeing the way he curled himself around her, the pretense of pretending to teach her how to play pool - the same trick he had used to get close to you the night you met. Rotten bastard. It made you question the last two years together and how many other women he pulled the same moves on. You were going to teach him a lesson, and maybe save her from the same fate.

You swaggered into the bar and felt eyes on you, but the only pair that didn’t turn were his. Damon was too enraptured by the woman dancing against him, a dainty cocktail spilling over her glass.

“Mind if I butt in next, Jimmy?” you asked the old man who loved to sing a bit of Kenny Rogers after a few drafts of beer.

“Not at all, pumpkin, been a while since you joined us.” The song was just finishing and Jimmy jutted his chin at Damon as he poured two shots of whiskey, offering one to you. “Say, ain’t that your old man?”

“Not any more.” You downed the shot and inhaled the burn before taking the stage and telling the band what to play.

—

Lando stepped off his stool as the song started and his feet carried him closer to the stage with Daniel right at his side, not that he noticed. You hadn’t even parted your lips but he knew, somehow he just knew, you would sound perfect. The song was one he recognised, maybe from a movie or just on the radio, but it hit differently when he saw your eyes boring holes into the couple still dancing together by the pool tables.

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp and she's probably gettin' frisky. Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whiskey. Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know…

Lando couldn’t breathe as he watched the realisation dawn on the stranger who looked up from the blonde woman he had been grinding on. The man’s jaw went slack and he half shoved the woman from his lap as he straightened up, a small shake of his head when he met the eyes on the stage. He could almost hear the whispered ‘oh no’ fall from his lips and he felt a smug satisfaction on your behalf.

I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats.

Your smile was dark and you watched Damon blanch at the sight, only making you feel even better for what you had done.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl, 'cause the next time that he cheats, Oh, you know it won't be on me. No, not on me.

“No, no, baby, no,” Damon whined as he tugged the short strands of his hair and rushed out of the bar, leaving his date in a state of confusion until her brain caught up and her hands shot to cover her mouth in shock.

“Yeah, he played us both, honey,” you said as you shoved the mic back in the stand and crossed your arms as the doors burst open.

“You crazy bitch!” Damon tried to rush the stage only to find himself shoved back by a handsome stranger who was apparently a lot stronger than he looked. “Get the fuck out of my way!”

“Not gonna happen, mate,” he said with a chuckle, his British accent sweet on the ears. “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

“She ruined my fucking truck! Do you know how much that cost?”

You scoffed and stepped up behind the stranger, feeling bolder as you saw his arms flex ready to protect you. “Too much, but I guess you had to overcompensate for something small,” you said as your eyes darted to his trousers and the taller companion barely contained his laugh.

“Oh, I like this one, Lando. She’s got fire.”

“Just give me my house key and leave, it’s over.” You held out your palm waiting until he fisted his keys from his pocket and cursed your name as he pulled it off the keyring.

“Where the fuck am I meant to live?”

You looked over at the woman and asked, “Do you want to take him home, honey?” She shook her head now that she knew he was a no good cheater and your smile widened as you turned back to Damon. “You’ll be nice and cozy in your pickup.”

He stepped forward but Lando’s friend joined him shoulder to shoulder and Damon quickly realised he was not going to win whatever went down. With his tail between his legs, he turned and grumbled his way out the door before the band started up and Jimmy kicked off with We’ve Got Tonight.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you said as the two strangers finally deemed it safe to turn their backs on the door and face you. A pair of stormy blue eyes met yours and you blinked twice before you managed to look away, scanning a quick glance over the messy styled curls on his head to the slim black t-shirt that fitted perfectly. Your lips dried as you realised you were staring and he cleared his throat when he caught himself doing the same.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You bit your lip at the offer and tipped your head to the side. “I think I should be the one buying you a drink, your friend too. It’s the least I can do.”

“Daniel,” the taller man said with a grin and held his hand out to shake.

“Y/N.”

“Enchanté.”

“Uh, bless you.”

Lando laughed and the sound brought a smile to your face. “I know how you can thank me,” he said as he nodded to Jimmy who was grabbing a second microphone and pointing it your way. “I’m fairly sure this song is a duet. Know it?”

You smirked as you stepped back and gave him a wink before taking the stage, his eyes never leaving yours and you sang just for him.

We've got tonight, Who needs tomorrow? Let's make it last, Let's find a way Turn out the light, Come take my hand now We've got tonight, babe, Why don't we stay?

His nod was almost imperceptible and you weren’t sure if you imagined it as you let the question hang in the air while the music faded out. In two long, self-certain steps, he closed the distance and offered his hand to help you down the steps and you grinned at the warmth of his palm as he laced your fingers with his.

Suddenly he froze and looked down, concern etching his features as he pulled his hand back and found it stained red. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

You blinked at the cut on your palm, only noticing the ache after your attention was drawn to it. “Huh, guess that’s what I get for slashing his tyres,” you murmured with a weak laugh.

“He deserved more than that,” Lando growled as he led you to the bar and asked for a first aid kit. “But he definitely didn’t deserve you.”

“You don’t know me, I could be a terrible person.” You winced as he cleaned the cut before pressing a bandage to stem the bleeding.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character, Y/N.” He pinned the bandage into place before lifting your hand to his lips and kissing the top softly. “I knew it from your smile when you arrived, and everything after just proves you’re strong.”

Your chin dipped as you felt your face flush and you couldn’t remember the last time someone was so sweet. “You really know how to make a girl feel special. So how long are you in town for?”

His lips turned down slightly as he sighed and reluctantly admitted. “We fly back to London tomorrow.”

You felt the same disappointment but chased it away and squeezed his hand that still held yours, your eyes meeting with the same idea flitting past. “We’ve got tonight?”

His smile returned and grew until his eyes wrinkled with how wide it was, brightening up his whole face and sparking yours to match. “Yeah, we’ve got tonight.”

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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cameronspecial · 9 months

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Let Me Spend Christmas With You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: With the Holidays around the corner, Rafe only has one goal this season.

Masterlist

As the semester comes to an end, the Holiday break is fast approaching. Y/N is packing her suitcase for her flight home while Rafe pouts on her bed. “I still don’t get why you don’t want to come to Guadalupe with me and my family,” he grumbles as she packs another knitted sweater. “We weren’t together last Christmas.” The corners of her lips are slightly curved downward and her head swivels on itself. “I know we didn’t get to have Christmas together last year and I really do want to spend the Holidays with you. But I also want a white Christmas. You know, snow, fireplaces, and hot cocoa,” she argues. Rafe gets up from the bed and holds onto her arm, “Come on, Angel. Who needs those things when you can have beaches and sex on the beach? The drink and the act. Please, let me spend Christmas with you, Angel.” It’s rare to see Rafe begging, expect if it means he gets to spend more time with Y/N. “Rafe, that sounds really nice. But what about my family?” she asks, wrapping her arms around his neck. His eyes bore into hers, “They can come too. There are more than enough rooms in our beach house for your family.” He watches as a sparkle starts to form in her eyes, alongside her smile. “Really? I’ll go ask them if they want to go now,” she pulls out her phone and dials her mom’s number.

———

Rafe’s hand is on the small of her back as he guides her down the stairs of the Camerons’ private jet. Y/N can feel water start to pool out of her pores. “Thank you again for inviting us on vacation with you guys,” he can hear Garth thank Ward ahead of them. Ward shakes his head, “No problem. Last year, Rafe was so sulky without Y/N with him, so I’m glad to do anything for them to be together this year.” Overhearing the men’s conversation, she giggles at the thought of her boyfriend missing her. Rafe frowns at her and brings her to his side. “Don’t laugh at my misfortune,” he laments, kissing her cheek. She throws her hand up in the air, “I’m sorry, but you are just so darn cute.”

———

Christmas morning is a little bit different for her this year. Y/N and Rafe had found a secluded beach on the island and after they spent Christmas Eve with their families, they snuck away to it for an amazing night together. The grains of sand shift under her weight as she twists in his hold. The towel they are lying on barely does anything to keep the sand away from their skin. Her eyes flutter open to see Rafe’s still breathing shallowly. She kisses his lips and watches as he starts to wake up. “Merry Christmas, Rafe,” she whispers, burying her head in his neck. His lips press a kiss in her hair, “Merry Christmas, Angel. We should probably head back home. I know Wheezie is going to be dying to open the presents.” She agrees with his statement and they both get their bathing suits on to go home.

“Looks like the love birds have finally pulled themselves out of wherever they were. Come on you two, we were just about to open presents,” Candace beckons Rafe and her daughter as they walk through the front door. The couple makes their way down into the living room, where the Christmas tree is, and settles on the floor. Rafe and Y/N’s hips brush against each other because of how close they are sitting.

Each family member takes turns opening a gift with the watchful eyes of the other members. The next gift placed in Y/N’s lap is a rectangular prism wrapped in paper with tiny reindeer on them. The card sticking out behind the ribbon has her name written on it in Rafe’s chicken scratch and his name under it. She keeps the card and takes the time to take the tape off of the paper to preserve it. Underneath, she finds a white cardboard box with no identifiers as to what is inside. She gives Rafe a raised eyebrow and he encourages her to open it. Her thumb slots in the gap of the box’s lid, pulling it open. Inside is a mason jar decorated with ribbons and tiny hearts. The label says One Hundred Reasons Why I Love You in cursive writing she has never seen before. There are folded paper slips in the jar. She opens it up and picks one out. The writing is in the same effortful cursive. Reason #47: You never judge me for my mistakes. Instead, you help me grow from them. She is touched that he took the time to work on her gift because she is sure each reason is something just as thoughtful as this one. Tears brim in her eyes as she pulls him into a hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs in his ear.

Next to open a gift is Rafe and it just so happened to be Y/N’s. He removes the tissue paper from the bag, folding it nicely for Y/N to reuse later. He finds a folded article of clothing inside. It is a jean jacket and on the back, there is an embroidered picture. The beautiful work shows Rafe and Y/N kissing. He turns the jacket so he can see the front to find Angel written in a heart on the breast pocket. Y/N has obviously put a lot of effort into the gift and he loves it. He brings her in for a kiss as a thank you. She smiles at the feel of his lips on her skin. This Christmas might not be spent in the snow, but Christmas in the sand is just as good.

———

Rafe is getting lunch when Jaiden walks into the kitchen. Rafe’s back is facing the doorway so he doesn’t notice the other boy’s appearance. Jaiden stares at Rafe’s back in amazement. “Your jacket is so cool, Dude,” Jaiden compliments, heading to the fridge to get a beer. Rafe turns toward his fellow brother and beams with pride. “Why thank you, my angel made it for me. I’m one lucky guy,” he gushes. “Well, she did a great job,” Jaiden adds before leaving the room. Rafe can’t hide his grin as he finishes lunch and brings it upstairs to his angel.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron series #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader

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clairenatural · 11 months

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hey sorry to ask you but what is the destiel lamppost thing? if u know what it is

Hi anon!!! I wasn't ignoring you I just wanted to be able to sit down and type out the lore.

So "why lamp"/the destiel lamp thing starts with 15x10, The Heroes' Journey, in which Dean and Sam are stripped of the luck/protections that being written as protagonists gives them by Chuck (very meta) and Dean ends up needing cavities filled.

Garth gives him laughing gas for the procedure, during which Dean has a dream of a black and white 50s style dance sequence. It takes place in the bunker and while initially it's Dean dancing with Garth, eventually Garth leaves and Dean runs over to pick up a lamp from the corner of the room to dance with. Here's the whole thing:

youtube

But once it's Dean and the lamp, the dance becomes markedly more romantic - he's dancing with the lamp as a partner, not like the tap dancing he and Garth do side-by-side.

Also important to note that they're dancing to "Let's Misbehave," which is about sex and also was written by Cole Porter, who was gay. This is a really good breakdown of the dance itself, the significance of the song and Cole Porter and its connections to old queer Hollywood.

At the end of the episode, Dean sees Bess and Garth dancing in their living room through the window and says "You know, I always thought I could be a good dancer if I wanted to be."

This is pretty clearly associating the dream sequence, and Dean dancing with a lamp, as about Dean longing for a partner and therefore the lamp as a stand-in for that partner.

NOW. Meta was written as soon as this episode aired with people linking the lamp to Cas, and there has continued to be much better meta than I can write here - this one is in-depth and connects it to themes across the seasons and Dean's years-long character arc. "Cas is Lamp" even has its own superwiki page.

But besides all the normal meta deancas reasons and the fact that this comes at a time when Dean's character arc had been building both to him wanting to settle down with someone AND that someone being Cas (this is the episode right after The Trap and Dean's "I should have stopped you/of course I forgive you" prayer), Cas (and angels broadly) is associated with light and lamps throughout the series, perhaps most iconically in 4x16.

So, after 15x18, "the lamp thing" was something frequently cited and that we held onto as another thing they'd dropped alluding to (nay, ensuring - because they'd surely somehow have to wrap up Dean's own arc of wanting a partner to settle down with) a happy deancas endgame where Cas is rescued and they live happily ever after.

And then. 15x20 happened. And "why lamp" took off as part of a long list of "if they were just never going to mention Cas again, let alone resolve the confession or this very key part of Dean's story arc of wanting to settle down, why did they include [long list of things that make no sense with the ending we got]." Why lamp has become shorthand for a long list of missing links and loose ends and things that just don't add up. If deancas wasn't going to be the happy endgame, then why lamp. Why did they drop so many clues and work up to a very clear resolution for Dean's character arc if they were just going to drop it. Why lamp. It's one of those things that will haunt us because we will never get an answer. Okay grandma, let's get you to bed. But why lamp.

#ok im assuming this is what you meant by destiel lamppost thing lol #if it wasnt im sorry and behind on the times #but there is another anon in my inbox asking about why lamp so hopefully this helps them!#answered #anonymous #long post

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apocalypseornaw · 1 year

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Jealousy Jealousy

Sam Winchester x reader

You're not sure if Sam wants to be with you or not until a night out makes a green streak pop up in him

Warnings: cursing, slight mention of sex

You weren't sure what it was between you and the youngest Winchester. There was a pull neither of you could deny, even if you wanted to. The way his lips felt on your skin, how his touch made you melt... you hated and loved it.

You hated it because there was never a label put on it, he'd have you in his arms for hours one night then the next it would seem as if he'd forgotten you existed outside of being someone he hunted with and someone who took up residence in the bunker as well. It was driving you insane because even though when it had started you were clear that no feelings beyond friendship were supposed to come into the equation somewhere along the way you'd fallen head over heels for Sam and hated yourself for it because he couldn't do something as simple as refer to himself as your boyfriend.

The thought had occurred to you about mentioning it to Dean but how pathetic would it look to go whining to his big brother? No matter if he was also one of your closest friends.

You let it go for weeks until one day Alicia and Max called to see if you wanted to go out with them. They were going to be a few towns over and Max's boyfriend was going out with them too so you figured with two men there it would be safe enough to enjoy a night out, especially since one of the men was an extremely strong witch and the other was a hunter as well.

Sam was gone, something about meeting a hunter Garth had sent towards Lebanon for some supplies so you just left a note telling the boys where you were going and assuring them who you would be with so they wouldn't worry. You didn't think anything about it as you walked up the steps to Alicia's waiting car.

Dean and Sam walked into the bunker not quite two hours after you left "Y/N!" Dean called the moment his boots hit the bottom step but when you didn't pop around a corner his eyebrows furrowed slightly "She call you about a hunt coming up?" He asked Sam who shook his head as he checked his phone to see there were no missed calls or texts from you.

The three of you had an assigned area for notes to be left to each other in the library so Sam headed that way and found a note sitting atop his and Dean's initials that were carved into the table. "She went out with Alicia, Max and Marcus" he told Dean who'd followed him into the library. Dean looked at the letter then nodded "Wanna go meet up with them? Been a while since we saw the Banes"

Sam nodded slowly, wondering why you hadn't texted or called him to say you were heading out. "Cmon then" Dean told him nudging his shoulder slightly.

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

You listened as Alicia told you about Max bitching the entire time they hunted an arachne. "In his defense they give me the ick too" you laughed.

Marcus grinned at you across his glass "The ick Y/N? Really?" You tossed a balled up napkin at his head "Shush you" Max laughed before cutting his eyes at you "So has Sam put a label on things?" You looked towards Marcus who shrugged "Yeah he told me"

You groaned dramatically before laying your head over on the table "No, he hasn't. The man is killing me cause one minute he's doing unspeakable things to me then the next he'll barely touch me around other people, even around Dean!"

Alicia patted your back soothingly "Wanna dance?" You nodded "Yes" Max and Marcus cracked up at your tone before Max looked between the two of you "Stay close enough I can keep an eye" you knew what he meant and loved him for being protective. You nodded then grabbed Alicia's hand "Cmon ma'am"

---------

Dean was the first into the bar, glancing around for Max. He waved when he spotted him and headed for the table him and Marcus were sitting at. Sam followed behind Dean and felt his stomach drop when he didn't see you at the table with the other men but then he followed where Max was pointing to and saw you were dancing with Alicia.

It amazed him after how long he'd known you that you could still stop him dead in his tracks but damn could you. Jeans and a simple black top looked nothing less then perfect on you. He watched for a second with a smile as you twirled Alicia around then pulled her back closer to you, both of you laughing.

---------

He headed for the table and was met with Marcus half way "Cmon Sam. We got bar duty" he laughed and fell in step with Marcus, the two of you them chatting about the last few months of their lives.

He had just paid when he heard a guy make a comment about the two women dancing. Out of the entire bar you and Alicia were the only two women dancing together. He listened in to see if it was a situation where he needed to intervene, some men were simply creeps and he wasn't letting anything happen to you or Alicia. "They're both gorgeous but that one in the black top? She's something else"

He felt a bit of jealousy but pushed it down, neither men were being outright inappropriate about you. He didn't notice the way Marcus was also listening and gauging his response. They grabbed the drinks then headed back to the table.

----------

You and Alicia had just sat back down and you smiled when you saw him and Marcus "Did either of you grab us a drink?" Sam held up your usual and Marcus held up Alicia's. Both of you smiled broadly as you took your drinks.

A few more minutes passed and Sam had forgotten the men at the bar but Marcus had kept an eye on them and not so subtly got Dean and Max's attention when the one who'd been eyeing you headed towards the table where all of you sat.

You were talking to Dean when you heard a throat clear so you looked up to see a man standing next to the table. He was cleaner cut, nice looking and was looking directly at you "I don't mean to interrupt or overstep but if you aren't here with either of these fellas can I buy you a drink?"

You smiled and opened your mouth to gently reject him but before you could Sam was wrapping his arms around you "Sorry man, you're a little too late. I'm her boyfriend" you knew your eyes had widened but the man was considerate enough to simply tell Sam "You're a lucky man" before wishing you all a goodnight.

You sat there for a moment because Sam hadn't moved. He was still holding you against him, damn near pulling you in his lap. "Boyfriend?" Dean spoke first causing the rest of the occupants around the table to barely bite back laughs. You glanced up at Sam whose jaw was clenched tightly "Sam?"

He half smiled and you could see a bit of nerves peeking out of his demeanor "I mean, I think I am? Aren't I?" You laughed lightly before pulling him into a quick kiss. When you pulled away you nodded "Yeah you're the boyfriend and I got to admit, that was kind of hot" he grinned at your words as Dean groaned "Jesus you two I hear enough. Don't make me suffer more" which made Alicia, Max and Marcus crack up laughing.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester x female!reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 months

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Right After All: Part Five

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.9k

Warnings: slow burn angst, fluff

Summary: It's yours and Clarissa's birthday. Sam and Dean throw a party in the Bunker for you two which makes you realize two things. One, you and Dean are more alike than you think. Two, your feelings for him are only going to get stronger.

Right After All Masterlist

Square Filled: jack kline (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

It’s right there in black, thick ink. Clarissa makes sure to put it on every calendar she can find every single year. May 9th. The day you and Clarissa were born. She was born five minutes before you, making you the younger twin. The more you grow older, the less your birthday matters to you. Sure, you always hang with friends and eventually your parents, but you don’t get excited about it anymore.

Clarissa, on the other hand, loves her birthday. She makes it a big spectacle and invites almost everyone she knows. Your parents are in another country for work so you’ll have to do something with them when they get back, so it’s up to you and Clarissa to do something if you want.

You leave your room and go down to the kitchen where she is. She’s texting someone on her phone with a huge smile on her face.

“What are you smiling about? Who are you texting?” you ask and get a water bottle from the fridge.

“Dean. He says to come over in an hour.”

Yeah, that’s right. Dean hasn’t lived with you since he got better. He moved out not that long ago to join his brother back at the Bunker. You didn’t realize how lonely the house got when you didn’t have him to come home to.

“Does this have anything to do with our birthday?”

“I don’t know. He didn't say.”

You know it does. Her birthday is all she could talk about for the past month.

“Happy birthday, Clarissa.”

“Happy birthday to you, too,” she grins.

If you’re going to go over to the Bunker, you need to get dressed. The present you got for your sister is in the car because you didn’t know what you were doing party-wise. If you went to a party, then it would be in the car for you to grab at a moment’s notice. She saw you doing that and put your present in there, too.

The Bunker is only thirty minutes away so it doesn’t take long to get there. There are no cars on the street or anything to indicate Dean has something up his sleeve. Knowing Clarissa, he has to. She wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t at least throw her a party the day of. You park on the side of the street and grab the presents from the back.

You two walk to the front door and knock, only for Sam to open it.

“Hey, come on in.” You two do and he closes the door behind you. “Let me take those.”

“Thanks. What’s going on? Where is Dean?” you ask.

“In the library.”

It’s suspiciously quiet. You and Clarissa walk into the library and out pops everyone Dean knows. Jack, Castiel, Jody, Donna, Clarie, Alex, Garth and his wife, Eileen, Charlie, Rowena, and Gabriel. It’s a small party but super meaningful. Clarissa doesn’t look too happy to be partying with a bunch of people she doesn’t know but you know she has plans with her friends this weekend.

Dean’s cast is off but he still has to take it easy while the leg continues to heal. The wounds on his abdomen have mostly healed but are scabbing over. He likes staying with you and Clarissa but he really misses his bed and is glad he’s back in it.

“Happy birthday!!” everyone shouts.

“Thank you!”

You go around and greet everyone before allowing yourself to take in the decorations of the Bunker. Sam must have done a lot of this since Dean has never been the one to pay attention to detail. There are games set up all over the library like beer pong in one corner, card games in another, and a table full of alcohol and food.

The first game you decide to play is Cards Against Humanity. Everyone sits in a circle and grabs their cards before one person reads out the black card. Everyone else will choose one of their white cards to place down, and the person with the black card picks the funniest white card that best goes with the black one.

“What brought the orgy to a grinding halt?” Gabirle reads.

Everyone shuffles through their white cards, putting one down at a time. Once everyone does so, Gabriel shuffles them before reading them out loud. He gets to the last one and starts giggling like a schoolgirl.

“What is it?” you ask with a grin.

“I choose this one: Child Protective Services.” Everyone laughs at how crude the joke is. “Who put this one down?”

“I did,” Jack says. “What’s an orgy?”

Again, you laugh at how innocent he is. Maybe you shouldn’t be playing this game with someone like him.

About an hour has passed before people start getting bored of this game. Dean grabs three alcohol bottles and brings them over to the group.

“Never Have I Ever!” He must have had a few drinks before this because he looks a little tipsy. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever tried a flavored condom.”

You pick up your glass and take a sip along with a few others in the group. There was this one guy who had grape-flavored condoms and you almost threw up. That’s the first and only time you have ever tried one.

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Jack says. Everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. How does he know about all of this? “What? Dean gave me a book to read.”

This time, almost everyone drinks. The only people who don’t are Jack, Claire, Alex, Garth, and his wife.

“Really? You’re drinking?” Dean asks you.

“What can I say? I’m a twin,” you grin.

Since Castiel is so innocent and hasn’t really done anything, he gets bored of watching everyone else drink and decides on another game that everyone can play. It’s called Suck and Blow where one person holds a card to their mouth just by breathing in. They have to pass it to the person on their right or left, and they blow the card over to the person who then catches it with their mouth and sucks to hold it to their face. If the person drops it on their own, i.e. can’t suck long enough, they have to take a shot or a drink. If the person drops it with another person, both of them have to kiss.

Luck would have it that you’re sitting right next to Dean with Clarissa on the other side of him. The direction is going clockwise which means you’d have to pass the card to Dean when it comes to you. Suddenly, all the alcohol you’ve drunk is gone from your system. What if you drop it while passing it to him? Would you kiss him in front of everyone? Would you be able to keep it PG?

Garth and his wife kiss, Alex takes a shot, and Gabriel practically makes out with Rowena. Castiel does a good job of sucking the card to his face as he passes it to you. You like Castiel but never in that sense so you make sure the card is secure to your mouth before pulling away from the angel.

You turn to Dean and lock eyes with him. One second is all it takes to immediately feel the connection between you two. He meets you halfway and presses his lips to the other side of the card. Your eyes haven’t left his even as you blow on it to get it unstuck from your mouth. You pull away before anyone else can see that there might be something between you two.

He turns to Clarissa and passes the card to her but she purposefully drops it just so she can kiss her boyfriend. You immediately look away from them because you can’t help but picture yourself as her. You two are identical twins. It’s hard not to think of yourself in her shoes when she looks exactly like you.

Everyone gets bored of this game easily as soon as people drop the card on purpose just to kiss someone they want to. After that, people kind of form their own groups and do their own thing. A game of beer pong is set up but you don’t feel like partying with them anymore.

You go to the kitchen to get away from everyone. You let them tire themselves out until it’s time to give the presents. You’re not a materialistic person so you don’t need a lot of presents but Clarissa is the complete opposite of you. She loves getting gifts and opening them. She’ll have a better time doing this than you will.

“That’s from me,” Dean says when you grab a present from the table. “For you.”

You open the package and take the top of the box off, gasping at what’s inside. “You got me a gun? This is so cool. Thank you, Dean.”

“I got it personalized with your name on the side.”

“This is amazing. Thank you.”

You don’t have a lot of practice shooting guns but now you’re gonna have to learn. Sam got you a collection of books and Castiel got you nursing equipment you can use at the hospital. Those three gifts are the best ones out of everything you got.

“I want this one first! Don’t tell me who gave it to me. I want to guess,” Clarissa grins.

She takes a medium-sized box and tears into the package with her perfectly manicured nails. Her smile is wiped off her face when she sees what’s inside.

“What is it?” you ask.

“A pink knife, a pink gun, and a pink taser? Who got me this?”

You look around the room to gauge everyone’s reactions. Dean looks like someone hit his dog with a car and he’s trying to hide it. He got her this. She doesn’t like it at all. He opens his mouth to answer but you jump in before he can.

“I did.” Clarissa looks at you. You can feel Dean’s eyes on you but you ignore him. “I got you those. You can’t ever be too careful out there.”

“Come on, you know me better than this,” she shakes her head and puts the box on the ground.

“Here, this one is from Dean. Open this.”

You grab the present you got her and hand it to her. It’s a small box that piques her curiosity. The box is long and velvety which usually means it’s for jewelry. She opens the long case and gasps in delight. Inside is a tennis bracelet with her name engraved into it.

“Oh, my God! I love it!” She jumps into his arms and presses kisses along his neck and jaw. “Thank you, baby.”

“Anything for you.”

You can’t look at Dean but you can feel his eyes on you. The end of the party is meant for people who want to drink and chat before leaving. Jody, Donna, and the girls leave since they have a long drive ahead of them. Garth and his wife need to get back to their kids so they leave after the presents are done. The party is slowly getting smaller but the people who are left have a few more hours in them.

If you stay here any longer, you’ll have a panic attack so you sneak away from the party and find yourself wandering the halls of the Bunker. You’ve been here plenty of times but you never really know what resides here.

You follow the hallway to a small staircase leading down to the gun range. Fitting seeing how you need to practice shooting. There is already a gun on the table from whoever used it last, so you grab it and inspect it. You don’t shoot it but you do aim it as if you are.

“You need to switch the safety off if you want to shoot it.”

You jump at the sudden voice coming from the door. Dean stands there with his hands in his pockets.

“I know. I don’t want to shoot it.”

“I know what you did back there. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” You keep your back to him so you don’t have to look at him. “I did it because I didn’t want to hear her whine about it.”

“Right,” Dean whispers. He walks closer to you until you can feel his body heat on your back. “Do you want me to show you how to use that gun?”

“Sure.”

Dean wraps his arms around you and grabs the gun while it’s still in your hands. He’s talking but you don’t hear a word he’s saying. All you can focus on is the feel of his arms around you, the way his chest feels against your back, and the heat coming from his breath on your neck.m What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you get him out of your mind? Why is he the only one you’re having trouble with?

“Got it?” Dean asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I think.”

Dean raises both your hands and aims the gun at the dummy at the other end of the room. He shoots it three times before removing his hands from yours. You find yourself leaning into him but he’s already moving away from you. It’s the alcohol. It has to be.

“See? You got it.”

“Thanks.”

You turn your head and look at him with hooded eyes. You can’t help it when your eyes drop to his lips, and he licks his bottom lip in response. The door to the gun range opens and Clarissa pops her head open, causing you to move away from Dean quickly.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Here I am,” he says without taking his eyes off you.

“Come on, let me try my new clothes on for you.”

You let Clarissa drag Dean away just as much as he lets her. There is no way you’re going to drive thirty minutes back home after drinking even though you know you’re fine. There are so many bedrooms in the Bunker, you decide to sleep over for the night.

However, you can’t sleep. All you can think about is Dean pressed against you. This isn’t fair. He’s just a man. How are you letting him have this much control over you? You yank the blanket off you and leave your room in search of what? What are you looking for? Anything that might help you sleep.

You wander into the garage and see the shiny black Impala Dean is so fond of. She’s a beautiful car. She’s lucky to have Dean as an owner. Classic cars are much cooler than modern cars so the fact that he has this is just amazing. You’ll never see a better-looking car that is used every day than this one.

“What are you doing up?”

You look back to see Dean walking into the garage. Of course, he’s here. “I can’t sleep. I decided admiring your car is a better use of my time.”

“Yeah, she’s a beaut.”

“I’ve always wanted to drive her if I’m being honest.”

Dean holds up a finger and returns back into the Bunker. He comes back out holding the keys to his car.

“You still have ten minutes left of your birthday. This is a one-time offer. Take it or leave it.”

You don’t hesitate to take the keys from him. The car runs better than you thought she did. Driving her on the open road with no other car in sight is everything you hoped it would be. You and Dean don’t say much during this drive because what is there to say? You don’t want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing.

You pull into a spot dedicated for cars to pull over if they want to take a break and enjoy the scenery but you don’t get out. Instead, you admire the trees the moon illuminates.

“It’s so peaceful out here and beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You look at Dean to see he’s already looking at you.

“Thank you for my gift. I really like it.”

“You’re welcome.”

A piece of hair falls in your face but before you have a chance to move it yourself, Dean reaches over and tucks it behind your ear. He keeps his hand on your jaw and runs his thumb over your cheekbone. There is no one else on the road. No Clarissa to interrupt. No one else to see what might happen.

He’s leaning in but you’re not sure if you have what it takes to resist him. You want nothing more than to kiss him but what kind of sister would you be if you did that to Clarissa? You’re a lot of things but unfaithful isn’t one of them. Dean’s nose barely touches yours before you pull away quickly with a shake of your head.

You open the driver’s door and hop out of the car while Dean stays inside.

“You can drive home.”

What the hell are you doing, Dean? Why is it so hard to pick one?

Dean doesn’t say a word as he slides behind the wheel. You get in on the other side and allow the ride home to be spent in silence.

What the hell are you doing, Y/N? Why is it so hard to stay away from him?

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #spn

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metropolisblue · 6 months

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Can the audience request a ponyfied version of the rest of the teen titans? Please

yes, the audience can.

BEHOLD, EQUESTRIA'S VERY OWN TEEN TITANS !!!

+bonus : garth design sheets ((in case you guys want to see his unicorn form :3))

((his tempest design's based on my other titans wip btw .....which i certainly won't finish it soon (LOL) due to the heart-wrenching fact that my finals are right around the corner ....but i'll let you guys have a lil sneak ><))

*evil laugh*

[ feel free to request more from me tho!! i'd love to draw anything for you guys ---after i conquered all my final exams ofc lmao! right now i have an unbelievably busy schedule for like 2 months... i'll come back around june so if your asks got the late-reply treatment IM SORRY!! but i'll be back & do all of your art requests, trust! ]

p.s. ty anon for this lovely rq<3

#teen titans #fab five #og teen titans #dick grayson #donna troy #wally west #garth #roy harper #robin #wonder girl #kid flash #aqualad #speedy #dc fanart #dc #robin dc #garth of shayeris #tempest

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leasthaunted · 3 months

Text

Episode 108: Minge Magic (Genital Magic C*ntinued)

On this week's episode, Cody and Garth are c*ntinuing their discussion on the magical role of genitals. This time around the boys are focusing more on the Middle Ages and the magic of THE VULVA. And in Garth's Corner, he takes Cody on an ILLUMINATING trip into the books maintained by monk scribes.

Enjoy the images discussed in the episode below! And please come and join the episode discussion on the Least Haunted Discord!

Statue of Julius Caesar giving the Digitus Impudicus (middle Finger)

Roman Tniabula, "Dick Monster Windchime"

Mediaeval Christian medals featuring Gentitals

Sheela Na Gig

Pilgrim Medal ©British Museum

GARTH'S ILLUMINATED CORNER

SNAILS AND RABBITS, OH MY!

Long story short, doodle in the margins!

#leasthaunted #podcast #funny #podcasts #paranormal #skeptics #garth's corner #art history #middle ages

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angelsdean · 1 year

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forever thinking abt the ensemble cast late seasons spn shenanigans we could've had if the show would've committed to leaning away from the "show about brothers" mentality.

like dean and garth working a case while sam and rowena are back at the bunker trying to reverse engineer a spell for the case and cas and jack are blipping around the world collecting rare ingredients (and running into some trouble themselves).

dean, cas, and jack dealing with "the bunker's haunted" by a benevolent prankster ghost hijinks while sam and eileen are fighting for their lives against a vampire nest. hilarious back and forth cuts between the two plotlines. dean creeping around a corner with a frying pan (jack close behind) as ping-pong balls go flying flailing that pan around like a racket and yelling "go! go! go!" to jack as they fight their way to their supply of salt rounds. CUT TO. sam covered in blood, a vampire up in his face baring their teeth about to go in for the bite when SLASH. head goes rolling and eileen's smiling face appears. (she's also go blood artfully dripping down her face)

cas, crowley, rowena, and eileen working the case of the week while dean and sam are kidnapped in the monster's lair the whole episode.

wayward sisters centeric episodes (since we never got the spin-off)

cas and garth, cas and jody, cas and donna, cas, claire, and jack, cas and rowena, cas and charlie (yea charlie's alive again), just. cas teaming up with other people. no more cas solo plots.

also. the bane twins. we should've seen them again !!!!!! they work with rowena now. they have a witchy club. sam's there too. dean keeps up his grudging "witches!" (hissing, derogatory) bit but he also bakes them cookies for their monthly get-togethers.

ensemble cast !!!!!!! i wanted it !!!!! it's so fun and delicious

#vic.txt

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stusbunker · 7 months

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Spotless: Pomposo

Chapter Fourteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Dean/Jo, John/Kate, Adam, Ellen, Garth/Bess (in passing), Cas and Mary (mentioned)

Word Count: 4559

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining. MORE BACKSTORY AHEAD, story takes place currently in Dec 2017, flashback to Jan. 2004 in italics, talk of Sam's past use of hard drugs, hangovers, vomit, car accidents, injuries, character death, guilt, John was not so great a parent or husband, some paraphrasing of last chapter unbeta'd

Special shout out to @thoughtslikeaminefield who helped immensely on sorting out the backstory for this chapter too, way back when I started outlining this thing.

Series Masterlist

Sam settled on some old school soul music to start their road trip and Dean couldn’t even come up with a reason to complain. Aretha sang in the background and they headed east, the world was their oyster and all that. Dean held onto the small bit of smug satisfaction from the interview with Meg as the city disappeared behind them. She really wanted him to crack, but he hadn't and that gave him some hope for going home.

They veered north for a bit and continued on I-40 until they hit Flagstaff. Dean liked the mountains, the air was infinitely better than LA and there was something about spending the holidays where it got cold that made sense. Unfortunately, it was just an overnight stay. How they managed a room in the first hotel they tried, he’d never know. He just shuffled in with his duffel bag and his ball cap over his now sleep-sloppy hair. There was a player-piano in the lobby and Dean had the fleeting thought about how Cas was spending the holidays.

Maybe he’d try and leave him another message, it had been months.

Sam called Madison after dinner and Dean decided to check out the amenities in order to not have to watch Sam get all goopy. Dean hadn’t packed a bathing suit, but a gym’s a gym even if it’s just three treadmills, a stair climber and free weights. So, he jogged for a little bit, watching whatever passed for news. He forgot his earbuds in the room and it really wasn’t worth going back for, he was finding his groove even without music as a buffer to the world around him.

After a solid 5k, Dean stepped down to stretch. Which worked out because a couple in their fifties came in just as he started some curls, leaving the treadmills open for their evening stroll. They talked about their family, the wife explaining what she got each of their grandchildren and where they were supposed to be on which day. Perfectly normal people conversation, but something about it made Dean sad, so he tried to tune them out and focus on his reps.

Part of his life after Cain and Alistair was a loss of gym time. Sure, he could work out at home or even do laps around the neighborhood, but it wasn’t the hours in the ring or at the bag or with a jump rope full-body-punishment that he had worked himself up to. It was also a lot more peaceful, less reactionary. And Dean decided he would find a balance between stagnation and self-destruction. Twenty eighteen was just around the corner afterall.

Dean got back to the room in time to shower and crash. If they wanted to push it, they could make it to their Dad’s place the next day. But neither of them were in a hurry, even in Sam’s fuckboy Charger it was nice to be on the road together. Dean took the first stretch towards Albuquerque, but Sam called it in Santa Fe. He had thought ahead and booked them a hotel instead of chancing it again, which surprised Dean for some reason. Sam had gone and gotten to be responsible while Dean was busy fishing himself out of professional purgatory.

“You talk to Bela?” Sam asked as they waited for their pizza to be delivered.

“Uh, she texted me that she landed at Heathrow, but not really. Why?” Dean asked after taking a sip of his beer.

“Wasn’t sure if you guys were doing the whole gift exchange thing,” Sam shrugged. “Madison made me wait until after we get back to give her hers.”

Dean chuckled. “I don’t want to know what you’re giving her, alright?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the innuendo. “Won’t people be asking about what you got her?”

Dean hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I could ask Trouble for some ideas, see if she thinks it’s necessary we post about it. I don’t know, I was kind of hoping of forgetting about the whole thing until New Year’s at Elizabeth’s, you know?”

Sam leveled Dean with a glare. “You know Dad is gonna ask to meet her.”

Dean set down his beer. “Well it’s a good thing she’s halfway across the world then.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Mom loved that show,” Sam said thoughtfully.

He was right. Dean had completely forgotten about why he’d recognized Bela the first time they’d met at your housewarming party way back when. But, yeah, Mary had watched ‘Red Sky in the Morning’ every Tuesday night after she put them to bed. Once Dean reached junior high, he was able to persuade her to let him stay up and watch too.

“I can’t believe it was on as long as it was, it was fucking awful,” Dean said playfully.

“Yeah, but it was her escape,” Sam added gently.

Dean took a long pull off his beer. “I guess so.”

When Sam went to meet the delivery driver, Dean turned on the television, banking on some sort of Christmas special to take his mind off memory lane. They ate quietly, letting last minute sales commercials drown out their thoughts. Tomorrow they were going home, or as close to it as they had outside of LA. Dean felt lopsided over getting to see Adam, having to navigate his dad, and tiptoeing Kate’s well-meaning but invasive nature.

But that’s family for you, nothing more important than that.

Dean rolled over on the couch, something had woken him up and he was too hungover to let it win. But it didn’t stop, a trilling sound coming from his pants pocket, fuck, it was his phone. He cracked one eye open and checked the caller id.

He closed his eyes and answered. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Dean Winchester?” a harried voice asked, decidedly not Jo.

“Ellen?”

“Yeah, listen— there’s been an accident. Jo and Y/N were T-boned on Hound Drive last night. Can you come to the hospital? I just came home for a change of clothes, but I’m heading back there now.”

Dean sat up, liquor and a headache dulling his reflexes. “Ellen? What are they saying?”

“She’s in the ICU. I— we need you there.”

Terror flooded Dean’s system, churning with a relentless guilt. Jo wouldn’t have been out so late if it wasn’t to see him. He swallowed. “Uh, of course. Do you want me to drive you? I can be there in ten minutes.”

“I’ll pick you up. I’ve got my truck, the roads are still a mess.”

“Right, okay, I’m at Dad and Kate’s— do you–”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“Ellen? Be careful.”

“Don’t you start young man.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ellen hung up.

Dean stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. He didn’t have time for a shower. Instead he grabbed his shaving kit and threw on a fresh layer of deodorant and brushed his teeth. He pounded three Advil with the water from one of those flowery Dixie cups Kate kept in a plastic dispenser on the counter. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, he knew how bad he must look. He stomped back into the living room and swapped his sweaty flannel for one that smelled neutral from his duffel. Adam showed up as Dean was shoving his boots on.

“Dean? Can I put on cartoons?”

He didn’t jump, Dean didn’t get scared of six-year-olds in footie pajamas. He was just on edge, was all.

“Knock yourself out,” Dean said.

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, stealing the afghan Dean had left on the floor.

“Uh, friend of mine had an accident, so I’m heading to the hospital. Can you tell Dad? I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You can tell me yourself,” John’s voice pressed in behind Dean as he came in from the kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

“Dad—,” Dean looked at his father, a man who had been on the road cheating on his mother for years. The same mother who died in a fire because John couldn’t bother to make sure to keep the electrical in their shitty double wide up to code. “It’s Jo. Ellen’s gonna take me to the hospital. Dad, I—”

John’s entire stance changed. “Go. Call when you know something. I’ll send Sammy when he’s up, he’ll know what to do.”

They both knew Sam couldn’t stop whatever was happening, but he’d keep Dean from causing a scene.

A car honked in the driveway.

“I gotta go. Thanks,” Dean brushed past his dad without even a glance at Adam.

Dean wouldn’t let Ellen drive, even hungover he trusted himself behind the wheel more than a desperate mother. She only pretended to argue before sliding across the bench seat and letting him in. The roads were a mess. In the thirty minute drive to the hospital, Dean saw another two cars in the ditch. Though, it was clear now in the morning sunshine, everything was blinding in its whiteness.

“Listen, you shut up and keep your head down. Let me do the talking,” Ellen warned him as they approached the reception desk.

“Hi, I’m Ellen Harvelle, I’m here to see my daughter Joanna? This is her fiance.”

Dean squirmed, but nodded at the nurse who looked at him like she wanted to reach over and hug him. “Of course, right this way.”

She led Dean and Ellen down a hushed hallway, the beeping of machines and huffing of ventilators the only sounds escaping the doorways as they passed. Dean looked around for a trash can, the painkillers in his stomach threatening to come back up. Ellen took his hand and pulled him into a room.

Jo was hooked up to more machines than should have fit in the tiny room. Her hair was matted with blood and she was drowning in the hospital gown. Her beautiful face was swollen and red, the bruises still forming where she hit the passenger side window— or maybe that was the dashboard, Dean couldn’t tell she was so misshapen.

“Oh, Jo,” Dean’s voice broke. He stopped himself from saying anything as the nurse talked, but all he wanted to do was sob.

He didn’t realize he had let go of Ellen’s hand until he was clenching the rail along Jo’s bedside. Ellen stood on the other side of her, carefully brushing the hair out of Jo’s beaten face. Her one arm was framed in a metal fixator, skin angry from where the bone sliced her open from the inside. Her leg was in a brace, but at least that meant those bones were more salvageable.

“What happened?” Dean said eventually, unsure of when the nurse left. He eyed the machines tracking Jo’s heart rate, but he wasn’t sure if the readings were good or bad.

“Someone was driving on the wrong side of the road— couldn’t see the lines and Y/N swerved to miss them, they spun out and the other car didn’t stop. They took her to surgery– her right knee was shattered.”

“Jo took the brunt of it,” Dean stated the obvious, still too terrified to reach out and touch Jo. She was suddenly so very fragile.

Ellen sniffed.

“They are watching for internal bleeding before they’ll operate. Her brain—," Ellen couldn’t finish.

“Hey,” Dean rushed around the bed and pulled Ellen against his chest, finally giving his hands something to do. “They’re doing everything they can.”

“It’s not enough,” Ellen argued.

“I know,” Dean agreed, squeezing her tighter.

Ellen pulled back and wiped her eyes, muttering to herself about going soft. Dean needed to give her a moment, hell, he needed a minute to catch his breath. He told her he was going to find coffee and she told him they had a waiting area down the hall. He nearly ran out of Jo’s room.

He checked his watch, it was just after ten o’clock. And as exhausted and hungover as Dean felt, he was pretty sure Ellen hadn’t slept at all after closing the bar. He wondered if she’d even made it home before getting the call. He found the coffee maker and pushed a button for something hot and thin and caffeinated. He wondered if Y/N had passed a breathalyzer, knowing how much Jo had been drinking didn’t make him certain her driver was much better off.

He was gonna be sick again.

He left the paper cup on the grate and fell into one of the stiff plastic chairs around the small table. He put his head between his knees and breathed, resting on his elbows. Dean counted the flecks in the white linoleum squares beneath his feet.

Nothing made sense. They were just getting started. Last night there was the impossible giddiness of seeing her in person after so long and now the unabashed horror of her mother sneaking him into the hospital as her fiance so he could see her before…

She was eighteen-fucking-years-old and he was going to lose her.

And it was all his fault.

He stared at the floor until he couldn’t anymore. The coffee was nothing more than a passing burn on the way to his knotted stomach. But he couldn’t stop the tears and he wouldn’t go back to Ellen until they were dry, she needed him to be better than that. When he couldn’t cry anymore and after he used his last single for a pack of peanut M&Ms, Dean went back to Jo’s room.

Ellen was asleep in an ugly mauve chair with her hand clutching Jo’s good ankle over the thin hospital blanket. Dean found another blanket from a CNA and tucked it around Ellen’s shoulders. He stood guard, through Ellen’s brief nap and the three o’clock shift change, even after Sam came by with lunch but left because he wasn’t allowed on the ward.

The seizures started around five and Ellen and Dean were asked to wait outside. Before six, she was wheeled away from them into emergency surgery and by seven she was gone. Dean had to hold Ellen back from slugging the surgeon. He caught her when she finally sank into reality, and somehow Dean found more tears.

Nothing felt real, least of all Dean himself.

Adam looked Dean in the eye and grinned.

“Get over here you little shit, I told you to stop growing the last time I saw you didn’t I?” Dean hugged his youngest brother hard, thumping him on the back as he rocked from foot to foot. “Good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Adam grunted out before Dean could release him.

Then came John, waiting for Dean as he walked through the front door. They didn’t say anything, just gave each other the once over and went in for the hug. John held him tight until he cleared his throat, stepping away from the vulnerable moment. Sam came in with his bags and hugged Kate first, who had been waiting in the hallway to the kitchen.

“Sammy,” John said, holding out his arms.

“Hey Dad,” Sam hugged with genuine warmth on his face, Dean never thought he’d see the day. But time does things to a person, and forgiveness was always Sam’s superpower.

“You boys hungry? I can reheat dinner, I know you’ve been on the road, wasn’t sure when you’d get in,” Kate offered as Dean went in for the obligatory hug. She had colored her hair, instead of her natural blonde it was a mature auburn, covering the gray and giving her a different air.

“Don’t worry about us, we can scavenge for something later,” Dean assured her. “I like your hair.”

That startled her. “Oh! Thank you, yeah I just figured I’d do something different for winter, you know.”

“Don’t she look good? I told her redheads are feisty,” John teased, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Gross,” Adam called on the way to the basement, where Sam had headed down to watch him finish his game.

“Beer?” John offered and Dean gladly accepted.

Arriving three days early was pushing their luck, Dean knew that, but there was nothing keeping him in LA. And after the novelty of catching up and last minute shopping in the tiny downtown of Mills’ Crossing, there wasn’t much more small talk to be had.

Naturally, John started it. But it was over Sam that had Dean’s hackles up first. They were sitting down for a late lunch, having gone to church as a family for the first time since Kate and John got married when John made a comment about it was good to see Sam’s forearms ‘healthy’.

What he meant was he was proud of Sam for kicking his habit, for staying clean. What John didn’t know was that Sam was so good at hiding it, Dean had to check between his toes before he finally got him into rehab the last time. Seven years since Sam had kicked it and John still needed to point it out.

The jam session that night seemed to clear the air. Adam had decided he was a drummer sometime after Dean and Sam’s first platinum album so John built him an entire soundproof room in the basement to go wild. Which meant the Winchester men were a full four piece, if they got to pick their parts. Dean abstained from playing lead because it was John’s house after all, but the old man’s hands weren’t what they used to be. And that gave Dean a little bit of satisfaction.

They rolled through the classics, even playing a couple of Phantom Traveler’s songs that didn’t rely too much on the keys. Dean made John sing though, laughing when he made up his own lyrics.

They ended the night with a drunken, almost punk rendition of Jingle Bell Rock after which Kate shut the lights out on them and told them to go to bed.

Christmas Eve was boring, Dean had gotten stir crazy and kept checking his phone. He knew you had gotten in the night before, but he couldn’t justify trying to hang out while you had such little time with your family as it was. Sam gave him a look and they started playing poker, teasing Adam that he needed to know every version of the game if he was gonna hold his own one day.

Kate wiped the floor with them all.

They had eggnog and exchanged one round of gifts before going to bed, no expectations of Santa Claus or any set wake up time scheduled. It was just another day. Dean barely slept, anxiety churning inside him. He tried meditating. He even prayed, but God, who was understandably busy that night, didn’t save him. Because he woke up with a bug up his ass and, naturally, his father was the first one to point it out.

“You kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?” John asked after Dean cursed at Adam’s obnoxious ringtone.

“Do a lot more with it than that,” Dean muttered before he could stop himself.

“Dean Winchester,” John snapped as if Dean was still sixteen, still living under his roof.

“Oh, come on, kids in college, he’s heard worse,” Dean griped, going back to his coffee.

It all went downhill from there. Naturally, Adam got the lion’s share of gifts. Sam and Dean didn’t need anything, but it was so uneven it looked like John and Kate didn’t even remember they were coming to visit. Meanwhile, John’s plasma screen had arrived two days earlier and Sam and Dean were tasked with installing it in the living room midmorning.

Nothing says family time like manual labor and micromanagement.

Dean started drinking before Kate had taken the ham out of the oven. And while Sam wasn’t exactly keeping track, Dean felt like he was asking for whatever bitchface he got next. He just couldn’t stop himself once he started snarking.

Adam was telling them about the musical composition class he had finished and how he had written something for a string quartet.

“Our new keyboard player went to Julliard, you should send it to him,” Dean said off the cuff, before shoving some venison sausage in his mouth from the snack trays Kate put out.

“So you upgraded from Cas officially now?” John asked suspiciously.

“Dad, Cas left the band last spring, of course we made it official,” Sam cut in. John already knew this.

“I know, I just hoped you boys would work it out.”

Dean laughed darkly. “Nothing to work out. Dude left, we moved on.”

“And why did he leave exactly?” John goaded Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes, John was one to talk. He had pissed off half of all musicians between the Rockies and New Orleans before he hung it up.

“Let’s call it the Winchester temper and leave it at that,” Dean smiled without teeth, then popped more snacks into his mouth.

“Yeah, cuz the Campbell blood held only saints,” John muttered.

“Dad!” Sam admonished.

“That’s fucking rich! Talking about her when she’s not here to call you on your shit. I fucking punched Cas, alright?! You happy?! And who, DAD, taught me how to do that? Huh? Winchester temper. Not Campbell. That one was all from you.”

John stepped into Dean’s space, but spoke to Sam. “Sam, take your brother outside for a walk to cool down before dinner.”

Sam grunted in confirmation.

“Watch how you talk to me in my own home, Dean. Or I’ll show you a Winchester temper,” John said lowly. “You understand?”

Dean rolled his shoulders and looked his father in the eye. “Who exactly paid for this house again, Dad? Yeah, I’ll talk to you how you deserve it. I’m out of here.”

Dean felt Adam watching from the corner as Kate pulled John out of the kitchen and into their bedroom to give him a piece of her mind. Sam nodded at their younger brother, silently thanking him for holding down the fort as Dean stormed out the front door.

The Roadhouse was blissfully the same, with only a handful of beaten down cars in the parking lot. Dean had spent enough Christmases at bars or taverns throughout his life, but now he just wanted something that felt like home to get through this tightness in his chest. What they found inside was something altogether more special.

Ellen’s entire face lit up as they walked in, an empty plate in front of her and Garth manning the food line. Dean got his hug in first, but Sam took his time asking about what was going on. Then you were there, and Dean felt a hot shame creep up because he was this close to falling into old patterns. And that wasn’t how he ever wanted you to see him. He zipped his lips, pleading with himself to get a handle on his temper already.

He felt you breathe him in, the truth was never hard for you to suss out. And yet Dean held on, needing you close, being stupid and selfish as ever.

They took their free meal and ducked into a corner, watching as Ellen played angel to the downtrodden of Boone county. Slowly, Dean was able to set his shit aside. With Sam talking about anything and everything across from him; he accepted his resentment for his father, his frustration at himself and the stupid fucking feelings he had for you. It all seemed much more manageable when faced with people who had to get over much bigger obstacles with so much less. There was one more thing he promised he’d do while he was home, now that he’d visited Ellen. And he double checked that Sam was still good to go with him, to be his chauffeur.

They helped clean up, though Ellen moved a mile a minute and did tasks faster than she could explain them. And then Ellen was handing you off like a Christmas present, one that Dean couldn’t ever accept.

Ellen said her goodbyes and left Dean standing in the parking lot without much of a guess on what you wanted to do next.

“I guess we better get going,” he said, asking Sam more than anything.

Then Sam reminded Dean about the cemetery and a new wave of guilt seeped into Dean’s stomach. When it came to Jo, you had first dibs. She was your best friend and Dean’d be damned if he’d visit her without you getting a chance to too. As macabre as it was, he felt he owed it to you.

You looked like you were going to be ill.

“Maybe we should ask her if she wants to go,” he told Sam, searching your eyes for permission at the very least.

You took your time with the idea, but turned him down. “If it’s okay, would you mind dropping me off first? I know it’s in the other direction.”

Dean felt you sinking behind a wall the further they got from the Roadhouse, you asked questions and made conversation, but you weren’t really in it. He probably shouldn’t have brought up Jo, but with Ellen and Christmas and the Roadhouse, she was already everywhere anyway.

They let you out at your parents’ and headed back across town. The streets were almost empty with the sacredness of the holiday. The cemetery was decorated in pine wreaths and cheap red ribbons. The narrow paths were silent beneath their feet. Dean had thought he knew what he wanted to say when he decided to take this little side quest to see Jo.

What he said once Sam was safely back inside the Charger was something else entirely.

“So, I’ve been better. Not like I’m bad now, but I’ve been doing actually better. I was a mess for a long time. And not just from you, but a lot of shit. And last year, I guess earlier this year really, I kind of imploded. I started hurting people, like actually hurting them and justified it to myself somehow. Then I pushed Cas away from helping me, after breaking his nose. And well, the bands a lot different now. But we’re still doing it.

Look, Jo, I know you wanted me to live my dreams and see the world. Things I always wish you could have done. But sometimes dreams are regular everyday things, like bringing home pie or having somebody to say goodnight to. And I haven’t let myself have dreams in a long, long time. But I think maybe I’m starting to again.

And I just need you to know that I’m gonna be okay. And I am gonna do what I can to keep your people safe, because they’re my people now too, you know? You gave me another mom and a best friend without even meaning to. And we all miss you like crazy. But, we’re okay. Merry Christmas, beautiful. I hope the angels pull out all the stops up there.”

Dean exhaled, his nose thick and eyes stinging in the cold air. He wiped his face and looked at Jo’s name one more time before turning back towards the road. Sam waited until Dean was buckled in before asking, “you good?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s get back before I cause more of a sensation,” Dean said, not meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Okay,” was all Sam said.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter 15: Rubato

#spotless series #dean angst #dean/reader #dean/jo #dean/bela #slow burn #character death #grief #guilt #dean winchester fanfiction #rockstar au #fake dating

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princessmisery666 · 10 months

Text

Meeting In The Darkness

Summary: You forgive Dean for what he did when he had black eyes but he can’t forgive himself.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, blood, implied torture, Demon!Dean, MOC!Dean, unresolved angst.

W/C: 2,882.

Pairing: past Dean Winchester x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: “Well one of us has to be wrong, and it’s not going to be me.”

A/N: @justagirlinafandomworld and @pink-sparkly-witch helped with ideas and feedback, thank you, but it has changed a little since then.

Betas: @slytherkins // all mistakes are my own.

Graphics: made by me on canva, divider @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: Dean Winchester // JAckles Verse Bingo // Main

It’s dark. Too dark. Your gun is out along with your flashlight, scanning the corners of the abandoned warehouse but the darkness seems to swallow anything beyond the end of the barrel.

Something is off and your gut tells you to get out, run fast and far. But you won’t, at least not until you find Dean. He called hours ago, said he was hurt and needed help. He sent the location pin and it brought you here. But it doesn’t feel right, it's too…quiet. Like the shadows are listening to your heartbeat.

You tried calling Dean when you arrived but it rang out until his voicemail picked up. Sam’s not answering his phone either, maybe he’s hurt too?

One foot over the other, that’s all you can focus on, not the worry making your heart beat faster. You desperately wish you’d called for back-up. Jody, Donna, hell even Garth. Except it was Dean. Your affinity for the surly hunter often clouded your judgment. He might not have time for you to wait for back-up. If Dean is hurt, he needs you now, not when the sun rises, though you doubt the dawn would penetrate the dark depths of the damp smelling warehouse.

“Dean,” you call out in a soft whisper. “Sam?”

Dean’s location blips on your screen, you're standing right on top of it, but he must be a floor above you because there’s no sign of him, and you’ve checked below. You're afraid of what you’ll find, and looking down at the illuminated screen blinds you further in the blackness that surrounds you.

“This isn’t right,” you say and have the eerie feeling someone hears you.

Your phone rings, startling you so much, it drops to the floor. Of course it lands face down so you can’t see it.

“Fuck!”

You scramble around, flashlight scanning for it, and as you step forward, you manage to kick it further away. You follow as it slides across the dusty floor, and the corner hits the wall just as it stops ringing.

You're quick to pick it up and the smell hits you as you straighten up. It isn’t dust…

Demons.

You sigh with relief when Sam’s name flashes on the caller I.D again. “Sam.”

He doesn’t offer a greeting, frantically asking, “Where are you?”

“I’m at the warehouse. Dean called, he said you-”

“Get out,” Sam panics, “get out now, run!”

You freeze, terrified to turn around as the sudden sense you aren’t alone makes the hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Sam what’s going on?” You ask, slowly backing up, trying to follow the same path to ensure you don’t trip over anything.

“Dean isn’t Dean,” Sam explains, “the Mark, it changed him. He’s a…” he struggles to finish the sentence taking a deep breath, and he utters the word as you back into a solid chest, “demon.”

“Shit.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean’s voice whispers against the shell of your ear, and it sounds as dark as the shadows.

He takes the phone from your hand and hangs up, throwing the device over his shoulder. He runs his fingers down your arms, shoulder to wrist. For the briefest of moments, you convince yourself it’s a gentle caress, a sweet ‘I missed you’ in Dean’s language, until he wraps his fingers around yours and the gun.

You forgot you had the weapon, despite Sam’s frantic warning, you’ve never feared Dean, and it’s not like you’d have shot him. But you know you’ll soon regret that thought.

“Give it up,” he instructs, with little room for argument, almost crushing your fingers beneath his.

You surrender it, cautiously taking a half step forward and turning at the same time when you feel Dean lean back to hand off the gun to someone you can’t see. He’s unnaturally fast, and before you can take a breath, he has you pinned against the wall, arms above your head. The flashlight falls, making the shadows dance, and as if on cue, the room's light illuminates, blinding you.

You squeeze your eyes shut against the assault and debate whether to keep them closed, afraid of what else is lurking in the room.

Dean demands, “Look at me,” and you know you’d be a fool to disobey.

Finally, when you find the courage to follow his command, you look up at him. Black drowns his pretty eyes, and his smile is fiendish.

“Please don’t say here’s Johnny,” you quip though you feel yourself start to tremble.

Dean laughs, but it doesn’t hold an ounce of amusement. “Johnny ain’t got nothing on me.”

You look over his shoulder, an army of demons line the walls looking at you with a fatal hunger.

“Is this…” You can’t say it, recognizing that this is the place Crowley kept the alphas. The room where you saved Meg from Alistair’s clutches. You don’t know what you're asking for exactly; to be let go, to make it quick or something else, but the word falls from you in a shaky breath. “Please.”

“Oh, don’t start begging yet,” Dean tuts, “you’ll spoil all the fun.”

“Fun?”

“See Sammy doesn’t believe that I’m no longer his big brother,” he explains, sounding irritated and bored.

“Dean, you don’t…”

His hand wraps around your throat, lithe fingers reaching from ear to ear, and he cuts off your air to stop you from talking. “I’m tired of telling him to leave me alone, so I thought it’s time to really show him what I am. Maybe when I’m done here, he’ll let me go.”

Dean POV

I watch you thrash and squirm in your sleep. I know better than to wake you. Luckily, my reflexes saved me from any real damage but I have the scar to remind me of the knife you keep tucked under your pillow.

“Dean, you don’t…” you whimper into the dream world.

Only, I know it's not a dream. It's a memory, playing out in full high definition. Unfortunately, I remember what happens next too.

I’ve tried running from the man - thing - I was, but I guess I’m too slow. It catches up to me in waves, winds me so much I clutch my chest, digging my fingers into my skin, hoping I’m somehow strong enough to break the flesh and rip my own heart out. Because that’s what it feels like while I watch you struggle. Every thrash or whimper is a blow to my chest, and I can’t catch my breath.

I’ve waited at the bottom of a hundred bottles, drowning while I waited for you to come back. Waging a war against myself, punishing myself the only way I know how, abusing my body and falling into bed with any woman willing to sleep with the down and out drunk.

I denied myself access to you. And you never called me. When finally I thought I had gotten away with it and felt a spark of relief that I wouldn’t ever have to face you again, like magic, you appeared.

That agony swallowed me whole, and I still feel like some big bad is chomping on my insides. It’s no less than I deserve, and heaven knows I’m never getting over you or what I did.

I remember the pact you made, a vow etched in your blood as I slowly and painfully drew it from your body. “When all this is over,” your lip trembled, but the conviction was in your eyes. So much so, even the demon in me was intrigued with the absolute belief written on your bloodied features. “When Sam has fixed you…” you swallowed thickly, found a last ounce of strength and told me - him - “I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to, and I’ll wait for years if I have to, but I’ll see you again, and I’ll forgive you, Dean.”

I thought when your blood dried, you’d take it back, but apparently you haven’t. Because here you are, back at the bunker, sleeping in your old room. Is this what your forgiveness looks like? Pretending like nothing happened, even though you still have the scars, physical and mental, to show that it did.

Your jerking movements stop and I hope that the nightmare has passed when you roll to lay on your back. I wait a few minutes, watching your body relax, your eyes remain closed, and your frown smooth as your breathing evens out.

“Dean.”

It sounds intentional but you still look like you're asleep. You sigh heavily, hand coming up to rub your eyes open, and then you’re looking at me. A mixture of tiredness and weariness in your expression.

“Did I wake you?”

I can’t help but huff a laugh. You woke me. Seriously? I’m literally the thing in your nightmares, but you’re worried about waking me. It’s infuriating and typical.

“No, I haven’t been to bed yet.” I haven’t been sleeping much lately, but with you here, I knew it was useless to even try.

You roll on to your back, stare up at the ceiling and ask, “Where’re you gonna run to?”

You’re not completely wrong. I thought about jumping in Baby and hauling ass in any direction. I wish I had. I didn’t because I owe you at least an opportunity to tell me how much you hate me, remind me that I fucked us up, all because I couldn’t lose Sammy. Worst part is, I think you know I’d do it again.

Silence deafens me for a long time, and I can’t be sure if you’ve fallen asleep or not, until you deliver a blow I never expected.

“I still love you.”

I really did do some permanent damage because that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard you say, and you’ve never said it before today. It’s always been on the tip of your tongue. I could see it in the moments you wanted to say it, especially the moments it wouldn’t have changed anything because then you’d have been saying it for you, to make yourself feel better, knowing I was going to hell or purgatory or wherever I was headed knowing how you felt. But now you're saying it for me because it’s what I need to hear, despite that I doubt the truth of it.

You shuffle to sit up, stare at me through the darkness, repeating, “I still love you, Dean.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You lean over to switch on the lamp, a slight jesting smirk when you look back at me. “Well, one of us has to be wrong, and it’s not going to be me.”

You say it so unbelievably casual as if you're commenting on the weather, and I know you’re trying to lighten the mood, but I just don’t have it in me to make jokes.

“There’s a first time for everything,” I counter, “and this is that time. You don’t love me, you love the idea of me, and I wish I was the guy you think I am, but I’m not and I won’t ever be.”

You sigh, and though you're too far away from me, I swear I feel it. As if a ghost just showed up, the temperature drops a few degrees, and a cold shiver runs through me when you mutter, “I know,” looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap.

Son of a bitch. Why does that sting like a rock salt shot to my chest?

“But you're not the villain you think you are, either,” you say, softly, as if you're talking to yourself, and you may as well be because I’ll listen, but I won’t hear it.

“Villain, monster, all means the same.”

“You know what your problem is?” There’s no softness to your tone now. You're getting angry, and that makes more sense to me. You should be angry, furious, murderous even, but you won’t claim it like you should.

Regardless of your right to be furious with me, I bite back, “I have a few, but why don’t you tell me?”

“You don’t think you're worthy of love, that anyone who cares for you has been fooled into doing so, but what you don’t see is that you prove yourself worthy over and over again. The sacrifices you make, you put everyone - damn, the world - above yourself, and that makes you worthy.”

There’s that conviction again, the same undeniable faith you had when I had you tied down and bleeding out. You believe everything you just said, but it's the second time you’ve been wrong today.

“You’re wrong,” I say. “All the sacrifices I make are for selfish reasons, to save Sam, so I don’t have to live without my brother. That’s not commendable. And all the other times it was probably to fix a mistake I made trying to save Sam. I’m not worthy. I’m a screw up.”

You shrug, “Difference of opinion, I guess.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I shake my head, looking up at the ceiling as if I’ll be able to see the sanity you’ve so clearly let go of floating around up there. As my eyes drift back down, they land on your duffle sitting on the chair. It’s packed up tight still, the clothes you were wearing when you arrived neatly folded on top, boots on the floor beneath it.

You’re saying all this, claiming you love me but it looks as though you're ready to leave at the drop of a hat. “Not planning on staying?”

“Hadn’t decided yet, needed to know if I was too much of a reminder or if you could get past it all.”

“Get past it?” I shout. “It’s not some minor accident, YN. I didn’t accidentally step on your foot. I ran a blade through your skin, repeatedly. I took pleasure in hearing you scream. I was proud of how your blood dripped onto the floor!”

My rage makes you jump out of the bed. You, quite literally, won’t take this sitting down. You cross the room and get in my face. “I got past it, so why can’t you?”

I laugh, there’s no humor in it, but it's either that or smash my fist into the door. “You're past it, huh? So I wasn’t just stalking your sleep, walking around with black eyes and a knife soaked in your blood?”

You avert your gaze and take a half step back. I’ve won, I see the fight drain out of you in the way your shoulders slump. I don’t feel good about it.

“You came here to forgive me.” You meet my gaze and it’s right there, I can see it reflected back in your tearful expression. “But I don’t need it,” I say, as the first tear slips free, “and I really don’t want it.”

“We can’t go back.”

You’re not asking a question, you're speaking the realization aloud. But to be sure you understand, I add, “And there’s no going forward.”

Your gaze flicks to your unpacked bag. You inhale slowly and hold it for a long pause. “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted,” you exhale, “So when I leave, I’m not coming back.”

That’s not true. You are wanted, more than you’ll ever know and more than I could ever express, but it doesn’t matter. Wanting you is not enough to keep what I did in the shadows.

It’s a dick thing to do, but the hurt I’m causing you now, the pain that is free flowing from your eyes, is nothing compared to what will happen if you stick around. “Finally,” I sigh, “something we agree on.”

You hand flexes at your side, balls into a fist while you decide whether to strike me or not. I brace myself, expecting the blow. I deserve it. It’s what I need, a flare of anger, a singular moment to show me that I haven’t slaughtered the fight left in you.

Your hand relaxes, and the resolve, with such a finality I’ll never forget, settles in your eyes.

You’ve given up on me.

It’s for the best and there’s nothing left to say, so I turn and walk away.

It doesn’t take you long to get dressed, and I can’t bear to watch you leave, but I wait around the corner, out of sight, listening to your movements.

When you leave your room, I follow your departure through the halls, trying not to inhale your scent too deeply, knowing the memories it will ignite will burn my resolve.

Your truck door slams, but the engine doesn’t start, and I hold my breath. Are you fighting with yourself to leave or stay?

I don’t know which would make me feel worse.

The engine starts, and I drift closer to the garage door. I push it open a crack, enough to see you resting your head on your hands that grip the wheel so tight, I can feel the sting on my own palms. Your shoulders heave with your tears that the old cranky engine drowns out.

I do nothing but stare. The irony isn’t lost on me, I did the same thing that day in the warehouse; waiting, watching. The only difference is, as you drive away I’m the one left bleeding out and tortured.

Tags Info.

Tags: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @pank0w / @kmc1989/ @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

Master Lists: Dean Winchester // JAckles Verse Bingo // Main

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester angst #jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester x you #demon dean #angst #spn #supernatural #spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #blood #unresolved angst

100 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 10 months

Text

In Plain Sight

Words: 6,968

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, fear of rejection, brothers keeping secrets, Dean being a teasing asshole as always, Supportive family, The Reader's boyfriend is a total himbo

Summary: The reader has been keeping a secret from his brothers his entire life. The reader is gay, and it was something that he had always kept from Sam and Dean in fear of their reaction. What happens when Sam and Dean stumble upon a moment between the reader and his boyfriend? How will they react?

Request:

Hi! Don’t know if your doing requests or not, BUT if you are can you do one where Dean and Sam have an Older brother who is gay and has a boyfriend but hides it because he doesn’t think that Sam and Dean would approve that he like guys and has a boyfriend, and one night where Sam and Dean go out on a hunt and their supposed to be gone for a week but come back early and find their older brother with his boyfriend passed out on the couch with a movie playing

@hpxmcusworld

A/N: Words cannot even begin to describe how sorry I am for taking over a month to get this out. So much has been going on in my life, specifically at work. I could write a twelve-book series about all the drama that has been going on at work. You guys can't even BEGIN to imagine, especially everything that has been happening in the last week. I mean, it's baffling. Regardless, here's the story, finally! I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this!

~ Much love!

(Y/N) laid on the couch in the Men of Letters bunker. A blanket was draped over his body loosely, and the corner of the fabric lay limply on the floor. A box of Kleenex sat on the floor next to the sofa, crumpled-up tissues tossed here and there in a small waste bin placed next to (Y/N)’s head. There was some cheesy medical drama show playing in the background on the television that he was barely paying attention to.

As the show went to commercial break, the sound of a pair of footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching the open door. (Y/N) glanced up as Sam and Dean appeared in the doorway, their duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Dean peered in and eyed him.

“Hey, man, how’re you feeling?” He asked.

(Y/N) cleared his throat and brought the blanket further up his body, placing it directly under his chin. “Still feel kinda shitty,” he replied, his voice low and scratchy.

“That sucks,” Dean shook his head. “I’m surprised Sammy and I haven’t got anything from you, yet,”

“Honestly, me too,”

“Are you sure you’re okay with staying here while we go on the hunt?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, it’s a simple salt ‘n burn. At least that’s what Garth says. You guys will be alright.”

They both nodded. “Well, we’ll call you when we get there.” Dean gave a brief wave.

(Y/N) smiled softly. “Alright, see you guys later,” he waved at them.

“See ya’.” They spoke in unison as they walked out of the room.

(Y/N) turned his head back to the television, but didn’t listen to the line delivery. Rather, he listened to their steps. He listened as they slowly faded in the distance, followed by the heavy sound of the bunker door opening and closing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiety and anticipation. Even with how far he was from the garage, he could still hear the roar of the Impala’s engine. He waited as it gradually softened before disappearing from the vicinity.

When all he could hear was the sound from the medical drama, he broke out into a smile and threw the blanket off of his body, sitting up quicker than he ever had before. He rapidly took out his phone from his pocket and went to his contact list. He dialed the number marked Quinn (Hunter/Cincinnati) and called.

Quinn was a fellow hunter that he, Sam, and Dean had met when they were on the road a little over two years ago after they got wind of a Wendigo in Ohio. What started as a typical hunting partnership turned into a celebration at the bar, which later turned into a night of (Y/N) and Quinn sharing the same bed. Since then, the two of them would text and call each other, asking each other for advice on hunts, getting to know one another, and, on occasion, scheduling a time and place for them to meet up if they were close enough. It was evident months after the two of them began communicating that they started to develop feelings. It wasn’t just casual sex to let out pent-up frustration, there were emotions behind the act, and both of them knew it. Quinn was the one who spoke up first. When prompted with the idea of making their relationship official, (Y/N) was hesitant, but he couldn’t deny the feeling that welled deep inside of him and accepted. Under one condition;

Sam and Dean couldn’t know.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his brothers, or feared they wouldn’t like Quinn. Quite the contrary, he knew they would like him. Quinn’s personality was the perfect mixture of Sam and Dean. A badass flirt with the heart of a big nerd. He would fit right into their group. But there was one big secret that he had been keeping from his brothers his entire life, and he wasn’t yet prepared to make it public.

Sam and Dean didn’t know he was gay.

True, he never outwardly told them he was straight, but he also never attempted to flirt with anyone at the bar in front of them. Whenever they would question him about it (more specifically Dean), he would always brush him off and tell him how tired he was after the hunt. He never lied to them. He was always tired after hunts. Yet he knew, deep down, that wasn’t the only reason why. He would trick himself into thinking he didn’t know the reason behind his hesitancy, but he knew.

He couldn’t blame it on any event in particular, but he understood that his upbringing had a lot to do with his reluctance. With the lack of acceptance he saw from his father on a variety of topics and how influential their father was on Sam and Dean’s views - despite what Sam would say - he was anxious about the way his brothers would react if he came out to them. The worst-case scenario always popped into mind when he considered coming out to them. The idea that they wouldn’t accept him, that they would turn their backs on him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He would rather keep himself closeted for the rest of his life than risk it.

That was why he decided to feign his illness to spend quality time with his boyfriend. He planned to have Quinn spend a couple of days with him, going out with him on different dates, and doing various activities together, and, the day before Sam and Dean would get back, Quinn would head out and be back on the road while (Y/N) would go back to pretending he was in recovery. It was a foolproof plan.

He was sure of it.

*~*

Quinn arrived three hours after Sam and Dean had left. (Y/N) was quick to open the bunker door as soon as the knocking echoed throughout the halls. Quinn had a bright smile on his face. Clad in a loose-fitting plaid shirt, jeans, and combat boots, Quinn stood a couple of inches taller than (Y/N). His black hair was slicked back neatly, just like it was on their first official date, and his beard appeared to have been trimmed recently.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Quinn greeted in his heavy Midwestern accent.

“Hey, glad you made it,” (Y/N) reached a hand up and cupped his cheek gently.

Quinn pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “Had to drive around once or twice because I couldn’t find that little makeshift driveway y’all made, but other than that…” Quinn wrapped his arms around his waist.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s supposed to be hidden.”

Quinn smirked. “And you did a damn good job hiding it,” He mumbled before he leaned down, connecting their lips.

(Y/N) chuckled into the kiss, his eyes closing. His heart never failed to flutter every time Quinn kissed him. In a sense, (Y/N) felt the same as he did when he was in high school and had a crush on a boy in his class. Whenever Quinn was near him, holding his hand, and kissing him, he could feel the swarm of butterflies flying around in his gut. It was refreshing to his aging mind to feel as young as he did when he was around his boyfriend.

Quinn was the first to pull away, the smile never leaving his lips as he stared lovingly into (Y/N)’s eyes. He pressed their foreheads together. “So, it’s just gonna be us?”

“Just us for the whole week.”

Quinn hummed and kissed his cheek before he stood up straight. “Why don’t you show me around then? I’ve heard some stories about the Men of Letters here and there, but nothing much. I’m kind of excited to see what they have hidden down here.” Quinn stepped past the threshold and into the bunker.

“God, you sound just like my brother.” (Y/N) mumbled as he shut the door. “Always excited to research everything you find interesting.”

“Sounds like someone I’d get along with then. I’d love to meet him again someday.” Quinn hinted with a raised brow.

“Yeah…some day.”

(Y/N) gestured toward the stairs and began to walk down, Quinn a couple of steps behind him.

“So, you haven’t told them yet.” It was phrased more like a statement than a question. “I thought you would have told them by now.”

(Y/N) sighed as he got to the bottom of the stairs and turned back toward Quinn. “I was going to tell them…at some point. It just…never came up.”

“And, what, this wasn’t a time when it could have been brought up?”

“You know how I feel about telling them, Quinn.”

“I know, darlin’, I know. But we’ve been together for almost two years now. It was fun sneaking around in the beginning, but…” Quinn trailed. “(Y/N), I love you, and I see myself wanting to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how short it will be, but I don’t want it to be in secret.” Quinn slowly took a couple of steps towards (Y/N) and grasped his hands in his. “I want you to be proud of our relationship,”

“I am proud of us,”

“Proud enough to tell your brothers?”

(Y/N) opened his mouth to reply, but he found it nearly impossible to lie to him. He wanted to say that he was confident enough to tell Sam and Dean. Confident enough to finally tell them what he had been hiding from them for years. Yet there was still that voice in the back of his head convincing him otherwise.

Quinn sighed after (Y/N) failed to answer. “Tell you what? We can talk about it before I leave, okay? How about we use this time to enjoy ourselves?”

(Y/N) glanced down at their hands for a moment. “You won’t be upset if we don’t talk about it right now?”

“No, sweetheart, I won’t. I promise,” he smiled. “I love you too much to stay mad at you for long.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled.

Quinn chuckled. “Now, why don’t you show me around?”

*~*

After giving a brief tour of the bunker, accompanied by some oohs and awes from Quinn, (Y/N) helped him get set up in their shared bedroom. It was exciting. Even though Quinn was only staying for a couple of days, it would be the longest that the two of them had spent together consecutively, and that meant the world to (Y/N). He considered it his first taste of normalcy. A view of the ‘apple pie life’ as his brother called it.

Some would argue that the discovery of the bunker should be considered his first experience with a normal life. He permanently had a roof over his head, a place to call home. But it’s difficult to consider the bunker a ‘home’ in terms of ‘normal’ when his job was hunting. He was surrounded by his job, day in and day out, haunted by the spirits of the men who hunted before him. No, home to him was a two-story colonial, painted blue, with a white picket fence surrounding the front and back yards. Sure, the bunker was safe, and kept the dangers away while they had a chance to relax, but it wasn’t a home. It never felt like a home, not truly. At least, (Y/N) didn’t think that’s what a home should feel like.

Regardless, he had a feeling that, with Quinn by his side for the week, he would get a small glimpse into the reality he could have. A reality where hunting wasn’t a part of his life, where he wasn’t put in harm's way on a day-to-day basis with minimal pay - if you considered credit card fraud and hustling a paycheck. And the mere idea of experiencing such a life, even for a brief moment, sent a level of excitement through him and made him more anxious about the days to come.

For most of the day, Quinn explored the bunker, asking questions about various artifacts placed on display and getting less-than-satisfactory answers from his partner. His main level of interest was focused on the library, and the variety of research material scattered around the aged shelves. (Y/N) thought it was cute how excited he was, and he didn’t mind that his boyfriend’s attention was mainly attached to the bunker and not him. He had Quinn with him for a whole week, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself just by being in the same room as him.

They cooked dinner together that night, a basic pasta recipe one of them found online. Something was satisfying and romantic about the entire experience. In a way, they felt like newlyweds, having their first dinner in the very first house they bought together. It truly was as if they were staring through a lens at a reality they could have, and it was peaceful.

After dinner, the two of them sat in the living room - Dean’s ‘Man Cave’ as he likes to call it - with a movie cued up on the television, blankets covering their bodies, and pillows behind their backs for support. Quinn leaned back against the couch, one leg elevated on the rest of the couch, and one arm wrapped around (Y/N)’s shoulders. (Y/N)’s head rested on Quinn’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around his back, as they watched the movie. A bowl of popcorn sat on Quinn’s lap and the two of them snacked on it occasionally.

Well, more than occasionally.

Quinn reached his hand into the bowl but stopped when his fingertips scraped along the buttery plastic bottom. He looked down and noticed the bowl was empty. The movie was only a quarter of the way over, and he knew that the two of them would need more snacks if they were going to make it the rest of the way.

“Hey, go ahead and pause it. I’m going to go get us some more popcorn.” Quinn gestured towards the TV.

(Y/N) sat up, grabbed the remote, and paused the movie. Quinn grunted as he stood up and stretched his back. A faint pop could be heard. Quinn let out a satisfied sigh as he looked down at his boyfriend.

“Do you want anything? Snacks or a drink?”

(Y/N) hummed. “I put some M&Ms on the top shelf in the glass cabinet. If you wouldn’t mind getting those, that would be great.”

Quinn furrowed his brows. “The glass cabinet? Why the hell did you put them there?”

“Trust me, if you know Dean Winchester, that man can snack,” (Y/N) rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I tried hiding my snacks everywhere in my room, but he always managed to find them. I’m waiting for him to find this stash.”

Quinn chuckled. “Okay, now I know I’ll get along with your brothers.” He turned and began to walk out of the room.

(Y/N) narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “If you tell Dean about my stash, I’ll kill you.”

Quinn pushed his bottom lip out, held up his free hand in surrender, and wordlessly walked out of the room.

When Quinn left, (Y/N) let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Even when he wasn’t in the room, knowing his boyfriend was in the same building as him made his heart flutter. A smile spread across his lips as he lowered himself onto the couch, lying on his side where Quinn had been sitting. He pulled the blanket closer to his body and let out a surprising giggle. A part of him felt pathetic for acting as such, but the other part adored it. Loved the way that Quinn made him feel. It only made the connection between them stronger, and that made (Y/N) look forward to their time together even more.

It didn’t take long for Quinn to return, the scent of fresh popcorn wafting into the living room. Quinn stopped as he passed through the door. He stared at (Y/N) for a moment before he walked in front of the couch. He held the bowl of popcorn in one hand and (Y/N)’s M&Ms in the other. He gestured down at him.

“I was sitting there,” he smirked.

(Y/N) raised a brow and glanced down at the couch. “Oh, were you?” He questioned, his smirk placed on his face as he snuggled deeper into the cushion.

Quinn deadpanned, head tilted to the side. After hesitating for a couple of seconds, he silently nodded, set the bowl of popcorn and package of M&Ms on the ground next to the couch, and began to climb on top of (Y/N).

“What are you doing!?” (Y/N) exclaimed with an amused, yet startled tone.

“Laying down,” Quinn couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face.

Quinn laid down on (Y/N), blanketing his body with his. (Y/N) groaned.

“You’re so heavy!” He whined.

Quinn laughed. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of (Y/N)’s neck and adjusted himself on top of him. “But you’re so comfy,”

(Y/N) let out a sigh and looked down at Quinn with raised brows. Quinn glanced up at him and gave him a bright, white smile. (Y/N) smirked.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said as he reached his hand up and began to rake his fingers through Quinn’s soft hair.

“I know,”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Well, here,” he mumbled as he shifted under Quinn’s weight. He adjusted himself so his legs were placed on either side of Quinn’s body, and Quinn was lying comfortably across (Y/N)’s chest and stomach. (Y/N) let out a breath of relief. “There, better. Now you’re not so heavy,” he teased.

Quinn glared at him and stuck his tongue out. He then laid his head on his chest gently, eyes cast towards the television. (Y/N) chuckled, his chest rumbling. He reached down, grabbed the remote, and, before he pressed ‘play’, pressed a kiss to Quinn’s temple.

“I love you,” he spoke softly.

Quinn glanced up at him, as if studying him, for a brief moment before a smile crept across his lips. “I love you, too, baby,”

*~*

The hunt was a bust. What started as a potential salt and burn turned out to be some ghost-hunting TV personality wannabe who wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. The whole thing was a hoax. A waste of time, and a waste of gas. Dean wasn’t too happy about it, but a part of him was glad that he was able to get back to his bed sooner, rather than have his back stabbed by some cheap boxspring. His memory foam mattress sure had him spoiled. Sam, on the other hand, was excited to get back to the bunker to check in on their brother. They hadn’t called him since they left, and he was anxious to see if he was feeling any better. Granted, he didn’t know how well someone could feel in less than twenty-four hours, but he hoped that he would feel even slightly like his normal self.

He had been sick for over a week, after all.

They pulled into the bunker around four in the morning, no doubt thinking the rumbling of the Impala’s engine would wake their brother. Even in the deepest parts of the bunker, it was nearly impossible to miss the sound of the Impala approaching, and Dean thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

“I’m going to have Garth pay me back for all that gas I just wasted,” Dean grumbled as he climbed out of the Impala.

“Don’t,” Sam mumbled. “He didn’t know the hunt was going to be bogus.”

“The article was a week old, Sam, you said so yourself. You would think that he would do a bit more digging before sending us on a wild goose chase,” Dean opened up the trunk and grabbed his duffel bag.

“Dean,”

“And another thing! Do you know how many times I had to stop and get gas?”

Sam sighed, his movements sluggish, showing his evident exhaustion. “Yes, Dean, I know, I was there. Remember?”

“Twice! Garth owes me a hundred and twenty bucks for having to fill up that much because he didn’t give a shit enough to look more into the hunt.”

Sam reached a hand up and ran his thumb and forefinger against his heavy eyelids. “Dean, we’re home, okay? Let’s just go in, check on (Y/N), and go to bed.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but closed it, instead, letting his shoulders slump. He found he was too tired to argue. “Fine,” he grumbled, tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder, and wrapped his thumb around the strap.

The two ventured into the bunker, the familiarity, safety, and comfort of it all causing the exhaustion to double down on them. Sam let out a deep yawn as they stumbled down the stairs with heavy steps.

“Where do you think (Y/N) is?” Dean asked, the corner of his mouth opening as he yawned as well.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Probably his room. Probably asleep for the night,”

“Alright, I’ll check in on him. Make sure he’s not dying.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “He’ll be fine,” he grumbled.

They walked down the hallway to their respective rooms. Sam wandered into his room, leaving the door open as Dean walked down to his. Sam turned on the lamp from his nightstand and winced slightly at the harsh yellow light. He placed his bag at the corner of his bed and made his way over to the dresser. He was at least thankful for the fact he didn’t use any of the clothes he had packed. Less laundry he would have to do. He kicked off his boots and moved them over to the side of his dresser before he unzipped his duffel bag and began to place all of the clothes he had packed back into their designated spots.

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice echoed through the hall. “He’s not in his room!”

Sam furrowed his brows and glanced towards the open door. “Did you check the bathroom?”

It was silent for a couple of seconds as Sam finished organizing his dresser. Soon, footsteps approached, which caused him to turn back to the door. Dean stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He gestured with his thumb down the hallway.

“He’s not in the bathroom either.” He said.

Sam furrowed his brows and hummed. He ran his hand tiredly through his hair. “He was on the couch when we left. Maybe he’s there.”

“Right, right, I’ll go check.”

Dean pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked away. Sam could practically feel the exhaustion starting to overwhelm him. He was used to staying up for hours on end, especially when it came to necessary research for a hunt. However, with all the driving they did that day, Dean’s constant bickering, and the endless classic rock songs, the day took a lot out of him. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had any caffeine either. He hoped that Dean would be able to find their brother so he could crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity.

As soon as Dean left, Sam took his empty duffel bag and placed it on the floor next to his shoes. He then walked over to his door, closed it gently, and wandered back over to his dresser, where he proceeded to change into his nightwear. Once the jeans and flannel were off his body, he felt a sense of relaxation, and even more tired than he had been before.

Just as he pulled on his sweats, his door swung open. He jumped and turned around, eyes wide. Dean stood in the doorway, a massive grin spread across his lips.

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “I was changing.”

“Sorry,” Dean waved him off and shook his head. “Sammy…you gotta come see this.”

Sam walked over to him. “What’s up? Is (Y/N) okay?”

Dean snorted. “Oh, he is more than okay. Now, come on,” he gestured towards himself. “But you gotta be quiet.”

Sam looked at Dean for a moment, brows furrowed, before Dean turned and began to head back down the hallway. Sam followed, the two of them walking silently. Now and then, Dean would glance back at his brother, a child-like glimmer in his eye, the look only causing further confusion.

“Stop looking at me like that, you’re creeping me out,” Sam said with an unsteady tone.

Dean shushed him, placing his index finger against his lips, as they stopped in front of the open living room door. Carefully, Dean took a step into the room and pointed to the couch.

“Look,” he whispered.

Sam stared at Dean before he, too, stepped into the room, peering inside. His eyes landed on the sofa. At the sight before him, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

When he first saw the look of giddiness in his brother’s eyes, he didn’t know what he was expecting to find. He was too tired to come up with any type of logical explanation at that point. The last thing he would have predicted, though, something that wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, was the image placed directly in front of him. He would have never guessed he would find his oldest brother with a man lying on his chest, peacefully asleep on the couch.

It took Sam a bit to realize his shocked expression was still on his face. He corrected it and crossed his arms as he slowly edged his way into the room, his footsteps light and quiet. Dean followed after him, his grin never wavering.

“So, I guess he wasn’t sick,” Sam whispered, leaning his body closer to Dean.

“Nope,” Dean whispered a little louder right back. “And you owe me twenty bucks,”

“For what?”

“Remember that bet we made?”

“Which one?”

“The one when we were at the bar in Illinois.”

“What? Six years ago?”

“Yeah! I told you that I bet he was gay.”

“This doesn’t mean he’s gay. He could be bisexual for all we know.” Sam shrugged.

Dean deadpanned. “Sammy, have you ever seen him pick up chicks?”

“Well, no, but-”

“The entire time we’ve known him, have you ever heard about him having a girlfriend?”

“No, but he could just be a private person.”

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “Well, I know I’m right.”

“How’re you so sure?”

“I’m his brother, I know him.”

“I’m his brother, too, dumbass.”

“Yeah, but you’re the baby. I’ve known him longer.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. Dean threw his hands up dramatically.

“Why don’t we just ask him?” Dean asked as he walked closer to the couch.

“Dude, he’s sleeping,” Sam hissed between clenched teeth.

“And? It’s almost five o’clock. He needs to wake his ass up and introduce us to his boyfriend,”

Sam opened his mouth to say something else but found it difficult in his drained state. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as he watched Dean move to the end of the couch where (Y/N)’s head rested. Dean went to say something but stopped himself. He quickly reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and took a picture of (Y/N) and his mystery man. Dean chuckled deeply, chest rumbling.

“Real mature,” Sam mumbled.

“Oh, come on, I need it for blackmail later,” Dean replied, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Dean leaned back down, placing his hands on his knees, as he got closer to (Y/N)’s face. “(Y/N),” Dean said in a quiet singsong voice. “(Y/N),” he sang a little louder.

(Y/N) hummed.

“Time to get up, buddy,” Dean couldn’t resist the smirk that appeared.

“Five more minutes,” (Y/N) grumbled and turned his head away from his brother.

“(Y/N)!” Dean exclaimed, loud enough for his voice to reverberate off the walls.

(Y/N) jumped, eyes wide open, staring directly at Dean and Sam, filled with weariness and confusion. Dean stood up and backed away from him. He gave a small wave while Sam shot him a sympathetic look. (Y/N)’s gaze quickly shifted between his brothers as he blinked rapidly to wake himself up. He tried to sit up but remembered the heavy weight on his chest. He looked down at Quinn’s sleeping form. For a hunter, (Y/N) had to admit, Quinn was a heavy sleeper. He slapped Quinn on the shoulder.

“Quinn,” he said.

Quinn whined.

“Quinn,” he hissed.

“Couple more minutes, babe,”

(Y/N) closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly, trying to will away the red tinge that fought its way onto his cheeks. He slapped Quinn’s shoulder again, a little harder that time.

“Get up!”

Quinn groaned and opened his eyes. “What?” He looked up at (Y/N).

(Y/N) looked at him and gestured towards his brothers. Quinn turned his head and, immediately, his brows shot up, and he appeared more alert than ever. He sat up from his position on top of his boyfriend and scrambled to sit on the couch next to him.

“Oh, um,” Quinn cleared his throat as he situated himself on the couch, forearms resting on his knees, hands folded together.

(Y/N) sat up slowly, his body still riddled with sleep but progressively gaining a new feeling of anxiety. Of fear. He felt like a child that was caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Despite the looks on his brothers’ faces, which preached the opposite of how he was feeling, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the worst-case scenario. He was convinced, at that moment with his brain fogged with interrupted slumber, that he had just spent his last night in the bunker.

“So…” Dean trailed before he gestured to Quinn. “Who’s this?”

(Y/N) looked over at Quinn before he cast his eyes down to the ground. “Um…” he paused, his mind racing, trying to think of an excuse. Trying to think of a lie that would sound convincing. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, nothing he thought of would work. His brothers would see right through it.

Quinn watched (Y/N) and noticed how much he struggled with getting the words out. He licked his lips and sat up. “I’m Quinn, I’m his-”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“I mean, I would hope he’s your boyfriend. I think the way you guys were practically sleeping inside each other was a bit too much for just friends,” Dean replied and chuckled.

Sam sighed. “Dean, don’t be an ass.”

“I’m just saying,” Dean shrugged.

(Y/N) huffed before he slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “You know what, it’s too early for this. If you’re going to yell, go ahead and yell. Just get it out of your system. I’ll just go ahead and start packing,” (Y/N) turned to leave the room. Quinn was quick to stand.

The smile vanished from Dean’s face for the first time since he discovered the two. “Hey, hey, hey, woah, woah,” Dean rushed over and gently grasped his brother’s arm to stop him. “Packing? Why?”

(Y/N) halted and turned to his brother. “I just…I figured-”

“What? That we would kick you out?”

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and looked down. Dean’s frown deepened as Sam padded closer to them.

“(Y/N),” Sam began. “We would never kick you out because of that. All because you have a boyfriend?”

“Wait, so…” (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he fully turned his body so he was facing Sam and Dean. “You guys don’t care that I’m gay?”

Dean immediately smacked Sam’s shoulder. “See? Told you! You owe me!”

“Okay, okay, hold on,” (Y/N) ran his hands down his face and shook his head. He suddenly felt a strong, warm arm wrap across his shoulders. He glanced up to see Quinn standing by his side, holding onto him. A comforting smile was on his face. (Y/N) then looked back at his brothers. “You bet on me being gay?”

“I said that you were gay. Sammy over here didn’t believe it for a minute.” Dean said smugly.

“It’s not that I didn’t believe it. We just didn’t have anything to go off of.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I knew from the moment he turned that hot blonde down at the first bar we went to,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah, right,”

“I did! She was hot! He would have been stupid to turn him down if he was straight, which he isn’t.”

“He could have also had a type Dean.”

“Type my ass, that girl was everyone’s type,”

While his brothers bickered in front of him, (Y/N) watched them, mouth agape. Next to him, Quinn chuckled. He pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple.

“How’re you feeling?” He whispered in his ear.

(Y/N) looked at him for a second before he stared back at his brothers, mouth still open, words seemingly unable to form. He was too in shock to think of anything to say. He was so busy convincing himself that his brothers would negatively view him after he came out to them that he never took into consideration the possibility of them being supportive. It was then he began to think of all the things they had supported him in through the years. They were always with him, always had his back, and he always had theirs. Sure, they had their fights, they had their moments, but they always came back together. They always talked it through.

In the end, he felt like a fool for thinking they would kick him out.

“Look, I need to ask something,” Sam chimed up, his attention now turned towards his eldest brother.

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered up at him. He closed his mouth, feeling that it had gone dry.

“(Y/N), what did we do to ever make you think we would kick you out? And, whatever it is, I’m sorry that we came across that way.” Sam continued.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, we never meant to do anything that made you think you couldn’t tell us.”

(Y/N) hesitated. “No, no, you guys, you guys didn’t do anything, um…it’s just…I…” Again, he was struggling to find the words to describe his thought process.

“He was projecting his own insecurity onto the situation,” Quinn said, nodding.

(Y/N) ran his tongue over his teeth and pursed his lips. He looked up at Quinn and gave him a tight smile. “You know, Quinn, that couch was pretty comfy, right?”

Quinn furrowed his brows at the statement. “Uh, yeah, I guess it was?”

“Would you like to sleep on it for the rest of your visit?”

Dean snorted and Sam pressed his lips into a thin line to hide the grin he was holding back.

“Uh, nope, no, I’m okay,”

“That’s what I thought,” (Y/N) shook his head and turned to his brothers. “No, guys, you didn’t do anything wrong. I guess…I don’t know, with the way that Dad was with us growing up, a part of me was afraid that that part of him would have rubbed off on you guys. I was severely overthinking it and I let the fear of what Dad would think overshadow how you guys truly are.” (Y/N) then looked back up at Quinn. “Was that a good way to describe it? Since it seems like you’re my shrink now?”

“That was wonderfully put, babe,” Quinn grinned widely.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes.

Sam chuckled. “Hey, I get it, okay?” Sam smiled comfortingly. “I wish that you would have told us sooner, but I’m glad we know now. Just know that we still love you, (Y/N), no matter who you date.”

“Unless you were dating a demon,” Dean interjected. “Or Crowley. Crowley is off limits.”

“Crowley isn’t my type anyway, so you don’t have to worry about that,” (Y/N) chuckled. “My type is more of a Midwest-Country hunter.” (Y/N) wrapped an arm around Quinn’s middle.

Quinn looked down at him with a small smile on his face. A couple of seconds ticked by before a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh! You mean me!”

(Y/N) deadpanned. “A Midwest-Country hunter who’s also an idiot at times.”

“But I’m your idiot.”

“Unfortunately,”

“Hey!”

“You guys are so cute,” Dean paused. “Makes me want to throw up.” He grimaced.

“So, wait, you’re a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Yeah! We met two years ago. I joined you guys on a hunt in Ohio. Columbus?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they both shook their heads.

“Sorry, man,” Dean said. “We see a lot of hunters while we’re out, and two years is a long time.”

Quinn waved him off. “I get it, don’t worry.”

“Only gives us more of a reason to get to know you,” Sam mumbled before a yawn erupted from his mouth. “But not tonight. How long are you staying for?”

“About a week,” Quinn shrugged. “If that’s alright, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries man. As long as you stay the Hell out of my room,” Dean fought back his yawn.

“Noted.” Quinn chuckled.

“Alright, well, it was nice meeting you, again, but we’re hitting the hay. The drive back was brutal.”

“Why are you guys back so early anyway? You never said anything.” (Y/N) asked.

“Well, you see, Garth-” Dean began.

Sam placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, pushing him towards the door. “We’ll explain when we get up. We need to get to bed and I don’t need to hear him complain anymore tonight. He’s been doing it all night.”

“Hey, I have not complained all night.”

“All night he has done nothing but complain.”

“I have not!”

Sam and Dean squabbled as they shuffled out of the room, their voices echoing down the hall. (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as he listened.

“Goodnight!” He hollered once their voices started to soften.

There was a pause before both brothers simultaneously shouted, “Goodnight!” back.

(Y/N) snorted and shook his head. Suddenly, he felt Quinn wrap an arm around his waist, pulling his body close. (Y/N) turned and tilted his head to look up at him. Quinn rested his forehead against (Y/N)’s, their noses brushing against one another.

“Is it too late to say ‘I told you so’?” Quinn asked in a quiet, low voice.

(Y/N) pursed his lips in thought. “Well, it’s not too late for you to still sleep on the couch.”

Quinn snorted, his chest rumbling with his chuckle. “You love me too much to do that.”

“I guess,”

“You guess?” Quinn asked, his hands moving from (Y/N)’s back to his stomach. “You guess?”

(Y/N) tried to jerk away, but found that Quinn had a strong grasp on him. “Quinn,” he warned.

“You guess?” Quinn repeated before his fingers began to dance over (Y/N)’s stomach.

(Y/N) tried to stifle the laughter that was bubbling up inside his throat, but it was all to no avail. His attempts to move away from Quinn were futile as the laughs echoed in the room. Quinn had a goofy grin on his face.

“Quinn, stop!”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it!”

“Dammit! I love you, you idiot!”

As soon as (Y/N) spoke, the tickling seized. The laughter died down and Quinn wrapped his arms around (Y/N), pulling him into a tight embrace. He began to litter (Y/N)’s face with kisses.

(Y/N) grimaced. “Stop it!” He whined, smiling.

Quinn let out a content sigh, pressing a final kiss to his temple. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

“What?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

Quinn pulled back so that he was able to look his boyfriend in his eyes. “For telling your brothers. For letting yourself be vulnerable like that. Now that’s the man I want to be with. The strong, badass, sometimes vulnerable hunter that is confident in himself. I can already see a change in you as soon as they told you they accepted you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

(Y/N) tilted his head to the side and looked up deep into Quinn’s eyes with much love and adoration. He leaned up and gently pressed a kiss against his lips. Quinn closed his eyes and kissed him back immediately. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt sparks as they kissed, as if they were kissing for the first time all over again. It made his chest flutter and his stomach stir with butterflies. It reinforced the idea that Quinn loved him, and he loved Quinn. They were with each other through thick and thin. Quinn was, indeed, the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

As they parted, they stared longingly into each other’s eyes, the passion never waning as Quinn reached a hand up to caress (Y/N)’s cheek.

“What do you say we go back to your room and cuddle? It’s still pretty early,” Quinn suggested.

“I like that idea. But no more sleeping on top of me.”

“Aw, come on, but you’re so comfy. How about we take turns? Now you can sleep on top of me.”

(Y/N) smirked. “It’s a deal.”

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