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talesmaniac89 · 2 years ago

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The Man in Apartment 43 - Part 28

Series Masterpost (Complete)

Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?

Triggers: Two idiots, cowardice, media hounding them, nightmares

Y/N = Your name | Y/L/N = Your last name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour |

Start Here | Last Part | Next Part

Reader

You were exhausted…

Though the nightmare was over, the effects of Brian’s viscous tendrils creeping into the foundations of your life and making everything crumble were far reaching. Your sleepless nights were slowly but surely catching up on you, and it was getting harder and harder to force yourself out of bed in the mornings.

It had only been 16 days, a little over two weeks, since that horrible night in the Winchester cabin. Yet, it somehow simultaneously felt like a lifetime and a split second had passed all at once. Time was playing tricks on you, while you were left balancing on the precarious ledge that was left of your foundation. Holding your breath in fear of more of your unsteady ground being ripped out from under you.

Where the legal red tape was moving things along at a snail’s pace. Making every minute seem like a pocket universe. The police kept throwing you information at a speed that left you winded and suffering from vertigo. Slow and fast, steady and chaotic, were both pulling at your seams. Unravelling you as you tried to deal with…

Hell, everything.

Your life had been torn to shreds, yet you hadn’t even been given enough time to gather up the pieces before your new life revolved fully around trips to the police station or meetings with what was now a full team of lawyers.

Though Sam was still your main contact, several other people in suits had been added to the mix. Since Sam’s law firm had decided to get involved now that your nightmare was considered “a high profile case”. A room full of men and women who were so unlike the kind younger Winchester as they grilled you for every little detail and fed you lines to tell the public.

Because, of course you had to deal with the public as well. Or at least the greedier side of it. As you were left having to try and dodge the damned media circus that circled every aspect of your life like the vultures they were.

You barely had time to breathe between every new twist and turn. You were just a puppet on a string. Being told by the lawyers what to tell the media, only to still have your words twisted by journalists across multiple newspapers and TV screens.

Meanwhile, the police seemed to find some sick pleasure in forcing you to relive your worst nightmare. Constantly calling you back in for follow up interviews or to share new information with you that you’d rather not know. Force feeding you the details over cups of stale and cold coffee as you tried not to flinch whenever they brought up the names of your two tormentors.

Yet, somehow, in the middle of the madness, you had still managed to move in with Gabe. You had to. You just… There was no way apartment 42 could ever be home again. Hell, you couldn’t even step foot inside the building. Not to mention your former apartment.

So, Gabe and your friends had mobilised to empty your former home turned nightmare. While you stayed safely outside. Ignoring the media and your lawyers as you hugged yourself close, listening to your landlord complimenting himself for graciously letting you out of your lease to a crowd of eager journalists. At least he’d pretended to graciously do so to the many microphones and cameras pointed his way. Though you’d known the truth. You’d heard Gabe, late one evening, applying a hefty helping of pressure to the greedy landlord and name dropping his father, to get you out of your lease without any extra fees.

Within one afternoon, your former home had been left an empty shell. And you’d effectively been homeless. Leaving you, and your meagre belongings, free to move in with your best friend.

Though “moving” was kind of a stretch. There were no boxes to sort through or trinkets to organise. After all, you owned next to nothing anymore. Everything you could really consider yours could fit in two single suitcases.

Since most of your things had gone straight to the closest charity shop… What wasn’t already in police custody that was. And whatever the police had, they could burn once they were done with it for all you cared. You couldn’t look at it. Not when Brian could have done god knows what to those items when he’d broken into your apartment.

Still, even with all traces of Brian erased from your life… Even though you were safely set up in your best friend’s stupidly expensive guest bedroom and you were finally safe; you were still on edge.

The nightmares left little room for actual rest, and your shoulders were aching from the tense hold they were permanently stuck in as you kept yourself ready to flee. Your luxurious temporary room felt cold and empty, no matter how high the thread count of Gabe’s sheets were. The shadows, though you knew nothing was hiding in them anymore, still felt dark and ominous. And during it all, the one person who you knew could soothe your frayed nerves and warm your freezing body wasn’t around.

You missed him. Your saviour from apartment 43.

Your mind kept returning to your time in the cabin with Dean whenever you had a quiet moment to yourself. Picturing those kind green eyes or the boyish smile he’d flash you as he recounted whatever mischief Sam and him had gotten themselves into as kids. You just wanted to be near him, to let that smooth deep voice of his soothe your frayed nerves as you quietly revelled in his warmth.

Yet, you’d only gotten to see him in passing. Throwing stolen glances his way in the police station as lawyers, police officers and journalists dragged you back and forth while you struggled to keep up. Watching as similarly uniformed officers pulled him away from you and into another room to make his own statements.

You’d just been overwhelmed. Too much was happening, too fast. After 12 days of silence and endless waiting, suddenly everyone was firing on all cylinders as they threw you back and forth like a ragdoll. Hell, it sounded like a cowardly excuse even to you, but you’d been busy trying not to throw up from the rollercoaster that was your new life.

So, it wasn’t even until a few days after he’d already checked out of the hospital that you realised you had no way of contacting him. Your old phone, and number, had been replaced. And even then… You never actually had his number to begin with. He’d just always been there, right next to you, during the whole hellish nightmare.

And now that he wasn’t… God you needed him to be.

Sure, you could have asked Sam for his number. You’d tried, multiple times. Yet… You couldn’t make yourself do it. Whenever you tried, your heart got stuck in your throat as it forcefully prevented you from risking further destruction of the already bruised and battered muscle.

The what ifs would coat your brain and tongue whenever you tried to form the words. What if he didn’t want to hear from you? What if he blamed you? What if… Until you’d eventually give up. Sticking to safer questions with your lawyer as you pretended you weren’t spending every waking moment not spent fearing for your life, thinking about your superhero next door.

So, instead, you just moped around Gabe’s apartment staring at a phone you knew Dean had no way of reaching. Hell, even if you’d wanted to mope anywhere else but on your best friend's couch you couldn’t. You were barely able to go downstairs for some of the greasy fast food that Gabe saw as “home cooking” without being accosted by some opportunistic journalist.

Which was the other reason you hadn’t been able to speak to Dean since leaving his side in the hospital. Other than seeing him in passing, you couldn’t approach him. Not without bringing the whole damn media circus down on him even harder. You’d already felt guilty enough when you learned that the journalists had somehow figured out that he was your nameless saviour and started approaching him whenever he was out too; desperate for their front page news fix.

And all of it, from your obsession with the phone still clutched in your hands, to the damn circus that was your life, had quickly started to put a strain on your stay in Casa Gabe. Which was the last thing you wanted.

---

Gabriel was sitting at his kitchen table as you walked out of the guest bedroom with your eyes burning into your phone. Forcing you to look up from the silent device with a nearly theatrical clearing of his throat as he nodded to the chair across from his. Though his brow was creased in a light frown, his soft brown eyes were gentle and caring as he pushed the stack of papers in front of you.

“I love you sweetheart you know that. But you’re driving me crazy. And I think we both know I can’t afford to lose my mind any more than I already have,” He’d joked as you sank down into the seat across from him and lifted up the apartment information with a raised eyebrow. And though his words were joking, you knew, as well as he did, that they were true.

You loved Gabe. But with the nightmares, the stress and the still unsteady ground under your feet, you’d both been getting on each other’s nerves. If anything, you were grateful as you scanned the information about the apartment he was suggesting. You needed a place of your own. And though you knew that your former apartment building hadn’t really been the problem, you couldn’t go back there.

You needed something new.

“This place’s security is top notch. And I know that wasn’t really the problem with the last one, but…” Gabe started as you kept reading the information about the high end apartment block.

Swallowing heavily at his words, you let the papers fall to not betray the shake in your hands as you tried to focus on the apartment details. Which only became harder as his words brought back more flashes of the information the police had practically force fed you with.

Brian breaking into your apartment was another one of Ketch’s tricks.

Your building’s security hadn’t been compromised. Instead it was all part of Arthur Ketch’s plans. The corrupt police officer had forged a warrant a week before your nightmare started, closing off the apartment next to yours for further investigation. After taking the keys with him from the building manager, he’d simply handed them to Brian. Letting the deranged stalker walk right in and sneak onto your balcony from next door.

“This place has a 24/7 doorman (Y/N), and they’re trained. No one’s coming in without being allowed in, I promise,” Gabriel continued, his usual light hearted tone was non-existent, as had been the case more and more over the last few hellish weeks. The media had been hounding him too. Especially considering who his father was. And it was draining you both. Leaving you feeling guilty for wiping the smile off of your normally always jovial best friend’s face on top of everything else, though you knew he didn’t blame you.

Licking at trembling lips, you nodded your head as you forced yourself to focus on the words on the papers in front of you again. It seemed far outside of your budget, but by the red line scratched through the original monthly rent and the new sum next to it, you knew your best friend had pulled some strings to get you in.

God, you loved your best friends. Even though you vowed to never live with any of them again. Gabriel needed his space as much as you did. And where you were big on home cooked meals, solitude and coffee, Gabe preferred his sweets… And his large range of friends with benefits that suddenly had to stop coming by. What with you holed up and paranoid in his guest bedroom.

Yeah, it was for the best

You’d always been independent. Moving out and standing on your own two feet again would be good for you. It would be the first step for you to shake everything off and move on, hopefully towards Dean. If he ever wanted to hear from you again.

“I’m not kicking you out (Y/N). I’d never kick you out. I just thought… It came up on the market and you can’t even get an apartment there without knowing someone in the block. Which I luckily do so…” Gabriel continued, mistaking your silence for hesitation as he kept speaking to your downturned head. His big warm hand reached out to hold yours as he squeezed it reassuringly.

“I know Gabe… I love you, but yeah. You’re a diva,” You croaked out as a half laugh, half sob. Your eyes lifted to meet his as grateful tears veiled your vision, blurring your big softie of a best friend at the edges. From across the table a barked laugh left Gabe as he scoffed at you in mock offence. Though, from the way your weak attempt at a joke had finally softened the crease on his forehead, you knew he was anything but offended.

“Just because I refuse to accept that any skittles except from the green ones should exist or be allowed in my apartment, that doesn’t mean I’m a diva little miss don’t-buy-store-brand-coffee,” He shot back with a warm smile as he squeezed your hand. Tears glistened in his own eyes as he lifted brown orbs to force them back.

Yeah… You would be fine.

Taking a shaky breath you looked down at the details of Apartment 11A one final time. Trying to picture your new life, a better life, among the secure walls of the high end apartment block. You could do it. You had to do it.

“It’s already available, so you can move in at any time. We could go shopping? I stole the big man’s credit card… Then I can score some extra best friend points for helping you move in. We could have you settled within four days time? If you want it…” Gabriel said softly, his tone no longer strained as he saw you considering the apartment building seriously. The mention of the ‘big man’ aka. his father’s credit card coming out sounding nearly excited. Since Gabe loved nothing more than to stick it to his absentee father, especially financially.

“Thank you G, I’ll take it. And I think I’ll need some of those ridiculously expensive sheets you have,” You said with a small laugh, smiling softly at your best friend and looking forward to something new, something untainted and fresh. Free from Ketch and Brian’s vicious shadows.

A new foundation for you to build on, a place to collect new favourites. A place that could slowly but surely become home again. And hopefully, if he’d ever talk to you again, a new start with your former neighbour.

The man in apartment 43.

Dean

The blinking of the cursor had grown blurry in front of Dean’s eyes as he frowned at the empty email window. He’d been staring at his screen for at least 15 minutes trying to formulate a reply to his latest picky client about the classic car they wanted him to source. But it was no use as his brain was refusing to focus for long enough to find the necessary words.

Damn it.

He’d thought he could take his mind off of everything, off of her, if he went back to work. But nothing seemed to stick. Nothing but her (Y/E/C) eyes or the shaky smile on her lips at least. She had stayed as a permanent feature in the back of his mind since she’d left him back in the hospital room with a final promise of calling him.

Sighing in frustration, he pushed himself away from his laptop and walked the two steps across the room to flop down on the bed. Working just wasn’t helping. Nothing was. Not since his life got turned on its head by the woman in apartment 42.

It had been 20 days since Dean had last heard her voice through anything other than a TV screen. Sure, he’d seen her in passing at the police station… But with the chaos surrounding the strongest, most beautiful woman he’d ever met, he could never reach her before the ebb and flow of lawyers and police officers whisked her away. So he was left waiting; straining his eyes as he kept staring at his phone, waiting for her to call. Hoping against hope to hear her sunshine lips shape his name again.

Even though he knew she had more than enough on her plate… Hell, the last time he’d seen her, on the morning news that very day, she’d looked exhausted. She shouldn’t have to deal with his dumb ass on top of it all.

But no matter how much he told himself to be patient. No matter how many times the logical part of his brain pointed out the media circus constantly surrounding her case… Dean just couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop glancing down at his phone in some vain hope that she’d find a moment to breathe and call him.

---

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was everywhere.

To the point where he’d left his apartment. Unable to stand how the wall in his bedroom separating her apartment from his suddenly felt 10 degrees colder now that she wasn’t there to bang on the wall in the mornings to let him know his music was too loud. Or to wake him up in the middle of the night with her hairdryer.

It didn’t help that the media had been camping out in front of the apartment building either, constantly asking about her and the case. Or the neighbours, whispering to themselves in the hallways about the horrendous incident, as if it was just the latest celebrity gossip and not something that happened to a woman who lived a few doors down from them. Her name was on everyone’s lips, yet Dean himself was terrified to speak it outloud. Afraid it would somehow jinx him. That speaking her name would make him realise she was just a lavender coloured dream.

One he’d never get to see again.

That, coupled with the fact that the damned vultures had somehow realised that he was the neighbour that saved her had left him no choice but to flee his apartment. Which was why he was now lying down and glaring at the still unfamiliar ceiling of Castiel’s spare bedroom.

He’d left his place.. No, he had run away.

He’d run away from the memories of her laughter on her balcony, from the coldness of their shared wall… From seeing the number 42 out of the corner of his eye whenever he left his own apartment.

Yet, no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t outrun the empty, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nor the slight itch to his palms as he wished he could reach out and pull her closer to shield her from everything. Whenever he saw her tired eyes, and that tense hold of her shoulders, he just wanted to protect her. Hold her close, and make the world fade away around them. Like it had done back in the Winchester cabin; back when it was just him and her.

He just wanted to see her. To talk to her and run his fingers over that soft crease in her forehead that seemed to now be a permanent instalment whenever he saw her on TV. To smooth it out and tell her it would all be ok. He just…

Cursing softly at the ceiling Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

He hadn't planned this. Groaning at his own stupidity he dragged a shaky hand over his tired features. Of course, he hadn't planned this. You couldn't plan this.

It struck out of nowhere. Like an unbeatable enemy, flanking him in a moment of inattentiveness and leaving him defenceless. Still, he couldn’t fool himself into thinking he had any semblance of control of his heart anymore.

He knew what he was feeling was more than he had ever wished for. More than anything he’d originally planned to ever let himself feel again. Hell, he’d admitted it to himself countless times, and even gotten as far as confessing it to her. Yet, in her absence, he realised the true depths of what he’d fallen into.

He liked (Y/N)... Damn it, no.

Like wasn't the word he wanted. He liked pie. Her... She was more than that. Sweeter, purer... Dean clenched his hands into fists and locked his jaw keeping the word he promised himself he'd never utter again inside. Yet the traitorous part of his mind still whispered it to him.

Love... This was love. Fuck. He was royally screwed.

He’d tried to trick himself into thinking the time apart would weaken the inexplicable pull he felt towards his girl next door… Or, no, the girl who used to be next door. Yet he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Not when it was so loud inside his head with all these words he kept trying to keep in.

He’d wanted to tell her he had fallen for her, back there in the hospital room. Yet, instead he’d just said goodbye. See you later. Back to being just a neighbour. And ever since, he’d kept the words on the tip of his tongue as he retold the story time and time again to police officers and the media. Every mention of her strength, her bravery, the fire in her eyes, were painted in the soft pastel colours of his feelings.

Hidden from the world, yet so painfully clear to him.

It was funny in a way. How all the things that had annoyed him only a few weeks earlier he now missed. Her annoyed knocks against their shared wall. The happy, carefree sound of her laughter on her balcony, the way her hair caught the sunlight… There was no way it was just the messed up 12 days that was to blame for the way his heart beat painfully in his chest at the very thought of her.

No, Dean Winchester has fallen in love with his neighbour, the woman from apartment 42. And she’s moved out without a word. 20 days… They’d already been apart for longer than he’d truly known her. Yet he found himself only missing her a little more with every day that passed.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose again before once more reaching for his phone on the bed next to him. Keeping his eyes shut as he searched for it blindly. The same way he’d done so many times in the last several weeks. Hoping for her call, staring a hole in his phone as he dreamed of calling her instead. Yet, he was left with nothing but an unresponsive screen.

It was just a lifeline to keep himself sane. Something tangible to clutch, as he longed to reach out for her. Something to stop his hands from shaking whenever they wanted to trace the shape of her jaw when he saw her on the news or hold her close whenever he saw the darkening circles under her eyes at the police station.

It was a damn placebo, nothing more.

After all, through most of the 20 days, he’d had no way of contacting her. And he still didn’t have her number. There hadn’t been a need for it. They were always together. She’d always been within reach. And now that she wasn’t…

Dean’s finger curled into the bedsheet again as he once more fought the need to reach out and trace her features or the shape of her sugar and sunshine lips. Knowing his fingers would only touch the cool air in front of him instead of the beautiful woman tattooed to the inside of his eyelids.

He’d considered getting her number. Hell, he’d nearly asked the detective for it at one point during his statement. But he’d quickly run out of options. After all, before… Everything. They’d just been neighbours. Strangers sharing a wall and nothing else.

He’d run through the options so many times they were threadbare and falling apart. He couldn’t call Sam for it… The lawyer in him would never give him the number. Not with client confidentiality on the line. Not that he’d ever let Sam risk his career for him that way. Especially now that this case had gotten the partners’ attention at his law firm.

Sure… Charlie had called him; he could have called her and asked her for (Y/N)’s number. But he barely even knew her past seeing her nearly jump at the throat of a collection of men in blue. Even if he did call her, she’d probably just think he was another creep.

His mind had gone in endless circles like that for the last several weeks. Until Castiel, sick of watching him stare a hole in his phone and jumping at every call, had given Dean his brother’s number. Telling him to call Gabe and get her number once Dean finally broke and explained why his blank phone screen had his undivided attention every waking hour of every day.

That was two days ago. After 18 days of radio silence, Dean had finally found a way to reach her. And yet…

Even two days later, all he could do was clutch the phone numbly in his hand as he cursed his own cowardice while his knuckles whitened around the plastic.

He’d tried… God, he’d tried several times. Yet each time he scrolled through his contacts to find Gabriel’s name, his finger paused over the call button. His traitorous mind whispering vicious words into the silence that followed as he just stared at the name of her best friend.

Would she want to hear from him? What if he was part of the problem now? Part of a past she’d need to let go of to finally start smiling again? What if she hadn’t called him because she didn’t want to hear from him?

The questions were endless. Burying themselves deeper into his chest whenever he tried to call. Only to be followed by nights lying awake as her nightmares and fearful screams echoed in his mind. Nights where his heart begged him to contact her, to soothe the echo of her pained sobs that vibrated through every goddamn bone in his body. Erasing earlier vicious whispers with a million explanations as to why she hadn’t called yet.

Each of them plausible, most heartbreaking and some downright terrifying.

Gritting his teeth, Dean cursed as he cracked his eyes open just enough to see his phone screen. Trained fingers scrolling and coming to a stop directly on Gabe’s number as he took a shaky breath.

He had to…

If nothing else just to quell the ache in his heart that was growing increasingly desperate for the soft lilt in her voice when she said his name. The way it seemed to roll off of her tongue so effortlessly, leaving him dying to discover how it tasted on her lips.

With another sharp intake of air, Dean sat up on the bed and let the loud sound of his heartbeat in his ears drown out that vicious little voice in the back of his mind. Forcing himself to focus on her, on the sound of his name on her lips, as he finally hit the call button.

It had been 20 days… He’d waited long enough.

“If this is another journalist, I’ll tell you what I’ve told the other 50 that called before you. I’ve got lawyers. A lot of lawyers…” Gabriel’s voice didn’t sound like the same jovial prankster that Dean had heard about from Castiel’s many exasperated retellings or in (Y/N)’s stories out in the clearing. His normally relaxed tone was clipped and strained as he spat the words into the phone in lieu of a greeting.

“No, I’m not a… It’s Dean. Dean Winchester,” Dean hurried through the words, nearly falling over them as he worried her best friend would just hang up and block his number. Blocking him from the only way he had of reaching (Y/N) at the same time.

“Dean? Superhero Dean? Hunk next door Dean? Green eyed boy wonder Dean? That Dean?” Gabe’s tone was a lot more playful as he spoke up again on the other side as Dean rolled his eyes at the mobile phone in his hand from the quick fire speed of the supposed nicknames the prankster had apparently assigned him.

“No, well… I mean yes. It’s Dean. But just… Dean. Not any of that other stuff,” He shot in with a tired sigh, somehow sensing that the man on the other end of the call wasn’t done thinking up new cringeworthy nicknames to put him on the spot and needing to get to the point.

“So, to what do I owe this absolute pleasure?” Gabriel sounded fully relaxed now, the former strain and anger in his voice had fully melted away only to be replaced with a nearly sickly sweet politeness as Dean nearly heard the shiteating grin on Castiel’s brother’s lips.

“I was just… Castiel gave me your number, since I’ve been trying to reach… Look, I don’t know how to put this without sounding like an idiot. I was wondering if you could give me (Y/N)’s number? I haven’t heard from her since the hospital and I just want to… Check in?” Silently cursing himself Dean rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Check in? Check fucking in? He wouldn’t blame Gabe if he decided to just hang up on him right there and then. After all, he sounded like a creep.

Damn it. This was a bad idea.

He was just about to open his mouth and tell Gabe to forget all about it. After removing his damn foot from it, that was… Yet, before he could, Gabriel spoke up again with that same nearly audible smirk in his voice.

“You don’t have (Y/N)’s number? Smooth, Casanova. But, I guess I can find it in my humongous heart to help you out. Where are you right now? With everything…” Though his words started with that same joking lilt, as it faded into nothingness, the same strain was still evident underneath the mask he clearly wore for her benefit. The media. It made sense. Of course Gabriel wouldn’t just give anyone her number over the phone when the damned journalists were hounding everyone involved in the case.

“I’m at your brother’s place… Cas’ apartment. I couldn’t stay there, with… Y’know,” Dean ended his sentence with a shrug, though he knew the man on the other end of the line couldn’t see him. But he just couldn’t make himself say anything about apartment 42. The media and the police had already made him relive it too many times. Yet, thankfully Gabriel didn’t push him, as his tone went back to the slightly teasing, lighthearted one he’d had earlier in the call.

“Wait, you’re in Cassie’s apartment? Good! I’m nearby. There’s a great donut place two blocks away. Meet me there. In… Let’s say, 30 minutes?” Gabe said, sounding rushed and like he was already on the move from the other end.

“Sure…” Dean started. His heartbeat was already speeding up from the thought that within the next hour, at most, he’d have her number. He’d be able to reach her again. Hear her voice again. And hopefully, she’d want to talk to him. She’d want to see him as much as he craved seeing her again.

“Donut shop! 30 minutes!” Gabe wasn’t listening anymore, his voice came from further away as if he was holding the phone away from his body as he ended the call with an echoed reminder.

Staring at the now silent phone, Dean tried to wrap his head around the rollercoaster of a conversation. Only being shaken out of it as an address appeared on his screen in the form of a text message from Gabe. Followed quickly by another message echoing the same ‘30 minutes’ message as Dean shook himself out of his stupor.

He was terrified.

The vicious voice in the back of his head was once more a chorus of the many ways he was about to have his heart broken. And his heart had permanently relocated to his throat as he swallowed heavily. But he had to do this. He needed to see her. His wonderful, beautiful sunshine girl.

Cursing silently to himself, Dean blocked out the vicious voices and let his heavy heartbeats set the rhythm instead. 30 minutes. In half an hour, give or take, he would be one step closer to hearing her voice shape his name again. Just half an…

Fuck it.

Jumping up off the bed, Dean reached out for his coat as he shouldered open the door to the guest bedroom. Green eyes looking wildly around Castiel’s neat apartment for where he’d left his set of keys before snatching them up and rushing towards the door to toe on his shoes.

He couldn’t wait. He’d go now. Even if it meant he had to wait at the donut shop for Gabe to show. He’d already waited for 20 days. He couldn’t wait another minute.

He was ready. He had to go there and meet Gabe before he lost what little courage he’d managed to build up. Before the vicious voices broke through the wall he’d built out of heavy heartbeats and the shape of her name in his mind. Brushing a hand through his hair, Dean took a deep breath as he pushed his phone into his pocket and draped his coat over his arm.

He needed to hurry. Yet, before he could, he was frozen in place by a knock on the very door he was reaching out to unlock.

Damn it.

Start Here | Last Part | Next Part

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Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun @deandreamernp @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @justagirlinafandomworld

The Man in Apartment 43 Tags: @campingmonkey @talia-ciufo @monkeymcpoopoo @deans-baby-momma @kalesrebellion @sarahpunkinator @smokinserious @cookiechipdough @winchestergirl82 @babykalika2001 @bagpussjocken @faded-blue @t1his-is-my-life-story @elliloumom @pinknerdpanda @zombiecupcake29 @justaparttimeauthor @that-one-gay-girl @ceisbill @starchildwild @poptart06294 @gia-25 @siospins2 @ariesbabe1993 @jamerlynn @stinawrites88

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