#aintnotnetwork

[vinylackles]

platonic

word count: 3,500

summary: dean doesn’t think he’s ready for a relationship, but that doesn’t mean he likes you flirting with anyone else. and you know exactly how to hit him where it hurts... good things there’s two winchesters

jealous dean. so. much. jealous. dean. this is fairly angsty, and set in one of the earlier seasons :) enjoy!

all my works || request imagines here

There were three sets of eyes on you, each one of them burning a different feeling into your skin. 

Sam’s eyes were on your back, and you knew exactly what he was watching for. Any sign of danger and he’d have his gun drawn in a moment, ready to take whatever it was down. He could probably make it across the tiny bar in three strides, and it put your mind at ease.

The second pair of eyes were, undoubtedly, on your boobs. The guy you were talking to had definitely given you his name, but you hadn’t bothered to commit it to memory. He hadn’t given up the information you were jonesing for yet, which meant you were going to put up with his googly eyes for a few more minutes, and pretend like you hadn’t seen him scratch his number down on the napkin. 

The third set were the ones you were most focused on. Dean was watching you like a hawk... and you were using every bit of his attention to your advantage.

You’d been purposely pushing his buttons since your slightly tipsy conversation with him last week. The two of you had been skirting around each other ever since you had started hunting consistently with the boys. You’d shared a few drunken kisses, held hands in the front seat of the impala on road trips. Nothing serious. 

But you were ready to make it just that. And when you’d brought up taking it the next level, making it ‘official’, Dean had locked up immediately. 

��We don’t need to put a label on it sweetheart. Just two friends havin’ fun, you know, in a platonic way,” he’d said, sipping at his beer. 

And you weren’t sure why, but those words had made you angrier at Dean than you thought possible. Perhaps it was because in every sense of the word besides actually calling you his girlfriend, he expected you to act like one. No flirting with other guys, always sharing a bed with him in the double motels rooms. He’d call you honey after his third beer without fail. And you were so invested in him it wasn’t even funny; if you didn’t know better, you’d say you loved the man. His words had hurt you more than they’d angered you, if you were honest. 

But if he wanted it to be platonic, you’d show him platonic all right. 

You’d missed the last three sentences the man in front of you had said, and you could tell he was getting a bit nervous, rambling on trying to remedy it. You seized the opportunity, reaching out and tracing a finger along his jawline; it wasn’t nearly as sharp as Dean’s. You could picture him behind you at the table, fist and jaw clenched equally tight, and you grinned at the thought. 

“So you didn’t see anything weird on Sunday night? In the alley between West Jefferson and Main?” 

“N-No ma’am.”

“What a shame, I was really hoping someone had seen my friend, she left the bar around 11:30,” you probed again, bringing your finger down the side of his neck and toying with the collar of his shirt. You saw him gulp down a swallow, which only spurred you on. 

“Well um, the, I know the guy who runs the mini-mart on the other side of the street! Maybe he saw your friend. I could give you his number, or-or his address!”

He was so eager to help you almost felt bad for using him. Almost.

“Why don’t you write those down for me,” you murmured, leaning in close to his ear. You could see Sam and Dean out of the corner of your eye from that new angle. Dean’s knuckles were white against the table where he was grabbing it. Mission accomplished it seemed. 

“O-Okay,” the man stammered. You watched his shaky hand scribble the owner’s info under his own number on the bar napkin. You offered him a smile as he handed it to you. A thought fluttered in your mind; the man had given you a possible witness in a dead-end case, and he’d served your need of making Dean jealous. You could repay him a bit. 

So you leaned over and pressed a quick, innocent kiss to his lips. You pulled back before he could get too excited, swiping the bit of lipstick you’d left on his lip off with your thumb. His eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Thanks again for your help Harry.”

He looked like he would faint, but he managed to stutter out “it’s uh, Henry” as you turned and walked away, napkin in hand. Sam had a look of slight admiration on his face, and Dean looked like he was about to blow as gasket. 

Definitely mission accomplished. Point 1 to you. 

“I got an address, I think we should go give our possible witness a visit.” You went to pass the napkin to Dean, but pulled it back.

“Oh wait, let me just put this in my phone real quick,” you pretended to be a bit sheepish, pulling out your phone and typing in the top number under a new contact. 

“You gettin’ directions?” Sam asked, standing up from the table and putting his suit jacket back on. 

“No, just uh... putting in a number, for possible future use, if you know what I mean.” 

You turned and passed the note to Dean, putting on your best innocent face. He was fuming.

“My lipstick isn’t smeared, is it?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“No, it looks fine. Didn’t know it took saliva exchange to get an address these days,” he grumbled, tucking the paper into his suit pocket. 

“Alright Mr. double standards. I’m allowed to have fun once in a while.” 

You raised an eyebrow, daring him to challenge you. Instead he just grumbled under his breath, fishing the Impala’s keys out of his pocket as the three of you headed for the parking lot.

“I think we can officially call this one a bust. She just died, nothing fishy about it,” Dean sighed, tossing the file back onto the motel table and running a finger over his eyes.

“Agreed,” Sam murmured, closing his laptop. You folded the newspaper back up, adding it to the pile of paper you’d be throwing away when you left. 

“We’ve got the room for the night, might as well just crash and get as much sleep as we can. We’ll hit the road in the morning.” 

“I call first shower,” Sam said, standing up and heading for his bag, carrying it into the bathroom with him. You waited until the water had been running for a few minutes to pull out your phone. Thumbing through your contacts, you found a friend that you could text. Not that Dean needed to know that.

He made it until the third message buzzed through before he asked.

“Whose blowin’ up your phone over there?” He tried to stay casual, but the venom in his tone seeped through his facade.

“Somebody.”

“Wow, paint me a picture why don’t you Y/N.” 

“It’s just that guy from the bar. He wants to know if I’m up for another round.” The lie slipped easily off your tongue. You hadn’t even saved the dude’s number.

“How the hell did he get your number?”

“Oh, I gave it to him. Figured if he wanted something from me, he was going to have to commit, and make the first move.”

He caught on immediately, rolling his eyes at you. 

“Are you kidding me? Is that what that stunt in the bar was about? You’re pissed at me over that?”

“Wow, paint me a picture Dean. You’re gonna have to be more specific, you do a lot of things that could piss me off,” you mocked him a bit, raising your eyes from your phone. You were being petty, and you knew it, but the hurt you’d felt at his words kept you going.

“This is all because I said I didn’t want to make things official, isn’t it? Wow. Didn’t realize you needed someone to call boyfriend so badly Y/N.” The water shut off, leaving the room in weighted silence, his words hanging in the air. 

His defenses were going up, as you expected, and he was lashing out in the only way he knew how. You were tempted to stop, to just let it go. But at the same time, you were done putting up with it. Something had to change, one way or another. 

“That is so not the point Dean.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it was wavering, emotions threatening to break through.  

“Then enlighten me.”

“You don’t get to just have me when you want me, okay!? That’s the fucking point! I can’t do this casual ‘platonic’ shit anymore, I care about you too much. You’re either in or you’re out with me, and if you can’t handle that then you just need to tell me, cause I’m done.”

“What do you mean you’re ‘done’? What, if I don’t start calling you honey you’re just gonna ditch?” 

The rage that filled you had you burning to your fingertips.

“Did you listen to a word that I just said?”

He didn’t answer, just waited for you to continue.

“Fine. Whatever Dean. You wanna keep things casual? Fine.” 

You had timed things just right, having snatched everything you needed out of your bag by the time Sam opened the bathroom door. You pushed past him into the overly-hot room, slamming the door and locking it. 

It took you a moment to get yourself together again. Why did he have to be such a dick sometimes? Half the time, you weren’t sure why you put in the effort at all. 

But images of his smile danced across your mind, and you remembered exactly who the real Dean - your Dean - was. He was the guy who made you your coffee in the morning without you having to ask, who carried your bags for you. The guy who stitched your wounds and gave you the curliest curly fry even though you knew he wanted it. 

You just didn’t understand why he couldn’t be that way all the time. Why he fought his feelings so hard. Because he did have feelings for you... right?

The familiar pit of insecurity began to form in your stomach, making you feel nauseous. Maybe he didn’t feel that way about you at all, and that was why he was fighting it so hard. Which would mean you’d just made a complete fool of yourself out there.

Shit.

You stripped down and showered quickly, trying to let the water wash away the feeling of dread that had settled over you. It didn’t work, and you weren’t surprised. It was going to take a lot more than lukewarm water to settle your nerves. 

You stalled once you were out, not wanting to go back out and face Dean. You couldn’t go back out there after being so confident, only to falter now. He was going to have to make a decision one way or another - it was the only way you could settle your fears. And somewhere, deep down, you knew he felt the same way about you. He had to, or you weren’t sure you could take it. You just had to get him to admit it. 

You just had to hit him where it hurt. 

So you set your plan in motion, reaching into Sam’s bag; he’d left it on the counter when you’d rushed him out. You found one of his old soft t-shirts, sliding it over your head before putting on the underwear and shorts you’d brought in with you. You towel dried your hair until it was done dripping before taking a deep breath and leaving the room. 

The boys were both in their beds; Sam sprawled out in the middle of his, while Dean was on one side, leaving space for you like he always did. You didn’t look at him when you approached Sam’s bed.

“Scootch,” you muttered, nudging the bed with your knee. Sam looked up at you from his book, confusion written all over his face.

“Huh?”

“You heard me, you always get a bed to yourself. Time to switch up the friendly arrangement. Now scootch.”

Sam didn’t ask any questions, though he definitely noticed the unwarranted death glare he got from his brother as he wiggled his way to the other side of the bed. You climbed under the covers, putting your back towards Dean and curling up on your side, willing yourself to sleep. 

Dean’s gaze was burning into your back again and you heard him get up and head for his shower. He never showered at night... it was working. 

As soon as the water turned on, Sam angled towards you.

“You wanna fill me in on the argument you just put me in the middle of?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

You felt immediately guilty. Using Sam was different, because you actually cared about the guy.

“Dean’s being a dick, so I’m just trying to piss him off.” 

“And I’m involved in that how exactly?”

“Best way to make Dean mad is to make him jealous, you know that.” 

That seemed to make it click with the younger Winchester, who just smiled.

“This is about him not wanting to officially date, isn’t it?” 

“He told you about that?!” You exclaimed, sitting up a bit. 

“Of course he did, he thought you were gonna leave you were so mad, he was freakin out!”

“I’m not gonna leave.”

“He doesn’t know that, he’s more accustom to people leaving than people staying.” 

Ouch. That one cut deep. 

“I’m not trying to hurt him. I’m just trying to get him to admit what he feels. He said that what he have is platonic, but I know there’s more there. At least, I think that there is.” I hope that there is.

“If you’re questioning whether or not he has feelings for you, don’t. He likes you, he’s just... well, he’s just Dean. He needs a push.” 

“Like me choosing to sleep in his brother’s bed instead of his kind of push?” You quirked an eyebrow, grinning. The dread inside you had settled at Sam’s words, and you were back to having a bit of fun.

“Why must you involve me in your devious plans?” 

“Because you love me,” you teased, poking his arm. It was true that you and Sam had become fast friends, and there really wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for each other, even if it meant incurring the wrath of Dean.

“Fine. But if you steal the covers I’m booting you out,” he grumbled, flicking off the lamp and putting his book on the nightstand. He wiggled under the covers next to you, settling down to sleep.

It was three am, and something was moving. Your eyes shot open as a heavy weight was moved off of you. It took you a moment in the darkness to realize that is was Sam’s arm being removed from where he had slung it over you in his sleep.

Two familiar arms slid underneath you, lifting you out of the bed. If he hadn’t been so warm you would have protested leaving your spot under the covers. 

“What’re you doin’?” You slurred, voice thick with sleep.

“Puttin’ you back where you belong,” Dean answered, pulling back the covers before laying you down in his bed and climbing in beside you. The sheets were cold and you grimaced, curling back up to him, seeking warmth. He didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, holding you close to him.

“I have conditions,” you murmured, pressing your cold nose up to his neck - February in Indiana was no joke, and the motel’s heating was lack luster at best. 

“Conditions on what?” He said, running a hand through your damp hair. His hands moved down your back, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him. 

“Us sleeping in the same bed,” you said, eyes still closed. If you were honest, you didn’t want to move an inch from where you were, but you were just stubborn enough to do it if you needed to.

“Do tell.”

“I get to be your girlfriend, for starters.”

“Okay. What else.”

That woke you up.

“Wait. Did you hear me?” You asked, sitting up a bit. His eyes were bright, lit up by the neon sign light trickling in through the curtains. 

“Yeah. Girlfriend. I hear yah. What else?” His voice was so casual that you weren’t sure you weren’t dreaming. 

“You’re serious? What changed your mind?” 

He reached up to cup your cheek with his hand; you rested your head there, letting the weight settle in his palm.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to Y/N. I just don’t have the best history with relationships, you know? So I wanted to keep you at arms length, because that’s how I keep from gettin’ hurt. But you’re different. You’ve always been different, and I was stupid to wait until you were at your breakin’ point with me to see that.”

“Really?” You couldn’t contain your excitement, and the spike in your voice almost woke up Sam, who groaned and rolled over in his sleep.

“Yeah, really sweetheart. You gave me an option - in or out. I choose in, all in, if the offer still stands.”

“Of course it does,” you smiled, wiggling up his body to kiss him. It was different than your past kisses - no faint buzz of liquor numbing your lips. You could feel every bit of it and it was glorious. 

“You never told me what else,” he whispered, lips moving down to your neck, pressing harder kisses there. You felt the scrape of his teeth, making you shudder.

“What?”

“Conditions,” he said into your skin.

“Oh. Um, well... I wanna ride up front more in Baby.” 

“And why is that sweetheart?” His voice was so smooth you felt like you were being put in a trance, no control over your words anymore.

“You look hot when you drive,” you admitted, blush warming your cheeks. He chuckled, nipping at your skin. 

“That can be arranged. What else?” He pressed.

“No hickeys,” you whispered, though you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to stop what he was doing.

“Deal breaker,” he said slowly, resting his lips against your skin.

“Okay, no visible hickeys,” you countered.

“That I can agree to,” he smirked, hooking a finger in the collar of your shirt and easing it down so he could get to your collarbone, set on leaving tiny marks there. 

You let him do his work, ignoring the fact that you could feel him hardening underneath you. You weren’t up for that tonight, and Sam was only a few feet away anyhow. 

You were so relaxed that you were pretty sure you could have fallen asleep right then and there if the adrenaline hadn’t been buzzing through your veins. 

He finally stopped, seemingly satisfied with whatever he had accomplished. You were sure you’d be blushing bright red when you saw it in the morning. 

“Can I put in a condition?” He mused, holding you to him as he sat up. You rested on his lap, completely content. 

“Of course.”

“How about the first night we spend in bed as a couple you aren’t in my brother’s shirt.” His fingers bunched up the fabric where it rested on your hips. 

“That can be arranged,” you grinned. He looked up at you and you nodded as he started to lift the shirt up, pulling it over your head. 

His eyes raked over your bare torso, soaking it all in. He’d never seen this much of you before.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and you weren’t sure he even realized he said it out loud. 

You shivered, half from his words and half from the chill in the room. 

“Cold?”

“A little.” You admitted, blushing bright red. 

“Here,” he said, reaching behind himself and grabbing the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one tug. Before you could say anything he had pulled it down over your head, helping to guide your arms into the holes. It smelled like him, and the warmth he’d left on it soaked into you, relaxing you even more. 

“Now you’re gonna be cold,” you pouted, tracing a finger over his bare chest. 

“Nah honey, I’ll be fine. You’re practically a space heater. C’mere.” He coaxed you down onto him again, and you wiggled until you were comfortable, legs intertwined with his under the covers. You let out a yawn and he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Get some sleep beautiful. You can ride up front tomorrow, since apparently I’m hot when I drive.” 

“So hot,” you muttered, cuddling up to him even closer as you started to drift off. You weren’t sure if you imagined it or not, but you could have sworn you heard three little words fall from his lips, but you were too far gone to ask him. All you knew is you felt the same. 

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