#and you felt secure enough around me to fall asleep at inopportune times

[dlartistanon]

PtiloSil

[prettywordsyouleft]

What A Tease: Unprofessional [M]

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: smut / museum au / boss x worker

Warnings: semi-public space (museum office) / tension-filled and mutual pining finally given into / smut

Word count: 1232

Thank you to everyone who supported this series.

Series Index: Seated Position | Pulse | Symphony | Helping Hand | Fifteen | Entree | Unprofessional

You looked insatiable today and Jinyoung couldn’t concentrate. 

As head curator of the museum, you spent a lot of time in his office and he was certain today would be another frustrating session of him asking you to repeat yourself multiple times because his mind couldn’t stop fantasising over you to take in the information you were sharing. He’d never met someone before who could so easily unravel him from the modest man he strived to maintain being, straining to control himself whenever you were in the same room as him.

“Did you manage to secure that final eighteenth-century guard for the upcoming exhibit?” he asked and you smiled politely.

“Mr Park, I just mentioned I had.”

“Right. Of course. You did” he answered brokenly, unbuttoning the cuff to both of his sleeves so he could roll them up his forearms. You watched the action quietly, and with his distracted gaze, Jinyoung managed to catch you staring.

It didn’t help that he was aware you held some attraction for him either. Unlike him, you never completely showed how it affected you, merely pausing for a moment before blinking the desire away. He, however, was attempting to cool off physically from his embarrassment of not catching what you had said yet again, and the one too many glances at your curves that had been extenuated by your pencil skirt. Popping open the buttons at his collar, he hardened his gaze onto the paperwork between you, determined to take control of himself and the situation once again. 

“Would you like me to get you some water?” you offered and he waved you off silently, not wanting to answer that he was indeed thirsty. 

It was ridiculous how you made him this way. 

Jinyoung managed to finish the meeting without any further mishaps, smiling weakly at your final suggestions at the door to his office before he shut it behind your departure, letting out what felt like his first proper breath since being in your company. 

He was exhausted by the time he rounded his desk and sat down in his chair again, leaning back into the leather seat and closed his eyes. His energy was spent from controlling himself so much, and despite the internal scolding he was logically giving himself, it didn’t stop you from appearing behind his eyelids, tantalising him further. 

“Why do you make me feel like a teenage boy in heat, Y/N?” he murmured aloud, his eyes snapping open when he heard something drop.

You had somehow made it back inside the office unheard, the file you had been holding now scattered all over the floor. Your eyes darted between that and him, your mouth somewhat ajar at his statement. 

“Y/N… I uh-”

“You’re not exactly one to play fair either, Mr Park,” you confessed, stepping over the mess you had created, pointing at him accusingly. “Must you be so difficult to deal with?!”

“Me? Difficult?! I’ve never heard-”

“One look from you has me grappling onto all remaining sense of decency,” you admitted, your eyes falling to his forearms in distaste. “You roll up your sleeves and expose your arms at the most inopportune times and I’m certain whenever you laugh, it’s in attempts to ensure I’m thinking of you long into the night.”

“Really?”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “You make it hard for me to maintain my professionalism, Mr Park.”

A small part of him wondered if he had fallen asleep and this was all a dream. And yet, he pushed back his seat and stood up, rounding the desk to where you had stopped, unsure if he should come any closer in the wake of your confession. Your eyes were round, swirling with vulnerability and lust. Even if you were hesitant right now, you were liberated from expressing yourself.

He had never found you more attractive than now. 

Slowly, he moved into your space and you smiled, stepping back. “What are you thinking right now, Mr Park?”

“I’m thinking that a beautiful woman who drives me insane every day just confessed that I do much in the same to her and I want to know what she tastes like,” he stated, moistening his lips and parting them in anticipation. 

Your eyes filled with desire further. “Right now?”

“Mm.”

“Shouldn’t we go somewhere more private?”

“No one else comes into this office nearly as much as you do, Y/N,” he reminded, still walking into your moving form. Eventually, your back hit the wall behind you right as his hand came up to balance on it. Jinyoung could tell the idea of being trapped here excited you and he smirked, placing the other hand upon the opposite side of you.

After a shaky inhale, you angled your head towards his. “Well, do you plan on taking forever?”

It was enough to cross the line, Jinyoung’s lips finding yours, the heat within him soaring. His palms pressed into the wall as he craved more connection with you, his body now against yours. Your hands slid up his chest and linked behind his head, arching away from the wall and further into him. Tongues collided, stars formed behind his eyes and he was certain the coiled tension between you had snapped. He couldn’t think straight, all he wanted was to have more of you and he wasn’t prepared to wait for it. 

His lips moved onto your neck, trailing down to your collar bone as his fingers moved to blindly tug at the buttons of your blouse. You moaned into his ear when his teeth came out to graze over your skin, throwing your hips forward into his, unsettling him from his intended pathway. Jinyoung’s head shot up and he looked at your dishevelled state, blinking softly.

“Is everything alright, Mr Park?” you breathed, your hands now smoothing over the bare skin you had exposed from undoing his own shirt. 

“Shit, Y/N, just call me Jinyoung.”

“Well, Jinyoung, as much as I can appreciate that this is going to end me and my ability to maintain my cool around you in the future, I have to admit, we don’t have all the time to remain just exploring one another. I suggest we either accept that this needs to stop now, or…” you trailed off as your hand slipped south, cupping over the outside of his evident struggle for you. You smiled smugly. “Or we tend to this growing need between us before someone walks in on us. I know you have a meeting in Dinosaur World for an inspection of the exhibit in twenty minutes. Will that be enough?”

Hastily hiking up your skirt and bunching it around your waist, Jinyoung cursed. “Even if it’s not, I hope you don’t think this will end just here.”

“On the contrary, I’m hoping that you plan on doing things more appropriately from here on out. One act of being unprofessional is more than enough, don’t you think?”

Jinyoung exposed himself just enough to have clear access to enter you and after applying protection with the condom he thankfully carried in his wallet, he did just that. Smirking as you both adjusted to the internal connection he had just made, he ran a hand tenderly over your jawline. “I very much doubt that this will be the last time I have you pinned up against this wall moaning out my name, Y/N.” 

_________________

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[the-winchesterboys]

A Warm, Safe Place - Pt. 3

Summary: You, Dean, and Sam learn to care for Aurora, losing sleep and finding laughs at the most inopportune times. When the three of you decide the next best step is finding the angel who shared in conceiving Aurora, the boys will leave the bunker for the information you need - and you find yourself lost without Dean by your side.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4,784 (I’m so sorry.)

Warnings: extreme fluff. And definitely some angst; mild, but there. Also, Dean in his FBI suit.

This is a series! Find the masterlist here.

A/N: Thank you all so, so much for reading! You’re just amazing, and I appreciate you so much. I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter! I really loved writing this one.

----

Dean Winchester.

Standing over you, shaking, kneeling toward you. Why were you laying down? His fingertips reached out to you, and your eyes followed them to his hands and arms, to his neck and face, all covered with blood. God, whose blood was that? There was so much.

He screamed, calling out to you as he seemed to move in slow motion. You went to reach for him, to take his hands in your own and assure him everything was okay.

But you were jolted from it, gasping for air.

You awoke from the nightmare with your fingers clutching tightly to the side of your bed, sweat coating your skin. Your hearing took a few seconds to come into focus, but soon you realized that you’d been awakened by Aurora’s crying from the next room.

Rising from the bed in exhaustion, you drug yourself to your feet and went to Dean’s room for the third time that night. Every night for the four days that you’d had Aurora, she had been keeping the three of you up consistently. Sam had since given up sleeping in his room, trying to pull all-nighters in the library so he could be awake for her. But he failed especially well at that, passing out each night on the hard surface of the table with books stacked around him - as was his natural state. So, you and Dean had been taking turns with her, feeding her, calming her; but you were still learning. It was a process.

You turned the corner into Room 15, shuffling toward the crib that’d taken the boys over four hours to put together.

“Dean, that’s the wrong- no, look, it says right here, 14A!” You grinned, rocking Aurora in your arms as you tried to put her down for a nap.

“Shut up, Sam! I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” Dean was laying under the crib like it was Baby, fighting with the metal frame and wooden slats it was meant to support. He’d been refusing to follow the directions for two hours, assuring the both of you that he’s ‘built his car more times than he could count, a damn crib would be a piece o’ cake’.

“Just. read. the damn-” Sam was immediately cut off by the sound of a metal piece shifting and falling from its hold above Dean’s face, and his guttural shout of pain and frustration.

You fought down a giggle, smiling to yourself as you watched the two of them, Sam sitting cross-legged beside the crib and Dean rolling out from under it with his palm resting over his aching face. “Fine,” he grumbled, not meeting his little brother’s eyes. “Give me the… thingy.”

Sam smirked, holding up the infernal pamphlet of instructions. “You mean the manual?” Dean just groaned and snatched it from his fingers, sliding back under the crib.

You smiled at the thought of what it had taken to secure the baby’s crib, then leaned into it to pull her into your arms. But there was nothing, just air, just blankets and her binkie laying without her. She wasn’t there. Your heart stopped, your eyes snapping open wide. “Aurora!” you shouted, spinning on your heel. Dean was out of his bed. What if something had come? What if Dean was - what if the baby?

You ran from his room, hardly able to breathe at the thought of what could be happening just outside the bunker without you there. “Dean!” You couldn’t call loud enough. “Sam!”

You were stopped by harsh hushing, and you skidded to a halt just outside the kitchen. You turned to see the elder Winchester already sat at the table, little Aurora safe and sound in his arms as he fed her with a freshly warmed bottle. “Shush!” he repeated, looking at you like you’d officially flown the coop, “What the hell are you yellin’ for?”

Your shoulders slowly relaxed, your palm going to your forehead. “Jesus Christ,” you whispered through a hefty breath, sitting across the table from him. “Scared the shit out of me. Neither of you were there, and I just...”

Dean raised a brow at you, smiling softly in amusement. “You were worried about us?” he mused, his hand expertly holding the bottle up for her as she drank happily from it.

“Shut up,” you muttered, allowing your own grin to widen as your cheeks tinted a soft pink. You rested your chin into your palm, your elbow holding your head up on the table as you watched the baby eat.

“Look,” he chuckled quietly. “You’ve done this twice tonight. I’ve got it; go sleep.” He turned to her, swaying her gently in the hopes that she’d fall back asleep while eating. You thought about taking his advice, going back to your room and falling into the bed, letting sleep welcome you back with open arms. But then you were reminded of the nightmare the baby’d woken you from; of Dean standing over you, bloody and terrified; and you immediately wanted nothing more than to stay out of that room, and away from sleep.

“Nah,” you replied, reaching out to slip your finger into Aurora’s palm, “I’m good.”

He just nodded in understanding, curiosity in his eyes though he knew not to ask. For nearly an hour, the two of you sat there in your pajamas, talking quietly over Aurora, occasionally having to stifle your laughter and failing miserably, because if nothing else, Dean could always, always make you laugh. You felt the weight of your troubles lighten as you two joked back and forth, reminisced about past hunts, remembering old friends and family fondly as Bobby, your mom, and three idiot brothers (by the name of Wesson), who somehow still managed to be alive and hunting well, came in and out of conversation.

“I told you,” he laughed, his voice just barely above a whisper, “They genuinely thought it was him. Damn thing caught on fire before I could convince ‘em!” You had tears streaming down your cheeks, your stomach aching from laughter as you pictured three grown men screaming at a straw man dressed like Garth as he chased them around an open field.

“Oh my god,” you whined as your laughter died off, wiping at the tears with the sides of each hand, “That can’t… I just can’t wrap my head around it.”

“Uhm… Dean?” Sam’s voice, laden with sleep, mumbled from the kitchen doorway. You turned and looked back at him, Dean looking up from where he sat. He was quite a sight; he was still dressed in a reddish-orange plaid button-down, both his shirt and jeans wrinkled and loose on him from sleeping in them, and his hair was sticking up in every direction possible. He had bags under his eyes, and three days of stubble growing along his jaw. The best part, though, was the sticky note pasted to his cheek that he clearly had no idea was still there.

“Mornin’,” Dean replied, holding back his snickers as you both looked at the exhausted Winchester standing in the doorway. “You, uhh… Sleep okay?”

“Guys,” Sam sighed, shuffling his way down the steps and into the kitchen. “It’s five fucking a.m. She’s asleep. Why are you not?”

You both looked to the baby fast asleep in Dean’s hold, then back at Sam, who seemed more confused than irritated. Dean gave Sam an innocent shrug.

“Whatever,” he continued, waving you both off and going over to the fridge. “I figured out what we have to do first.”

“And what’s that, Sammy?” You could still hear the delight in Dean’s voice as he watched his brother fumble around for a glass of water.

“We’ve gotta find the angel.”

You raised your brow, standing to help him with the water. As you pulled a fresh bottle from the fridge for him, you pressed on. “The angel?” It clicked. “You mean her…”

“Yeah. We find the angel, it’s their responsibility to raise and protect her. But more important, we can figure out what to do from here on out and have an angel on our side, one who’s invested.” He was speaking in pretty coherent sentences for being as out of it as he was. Sam took the open bottle from you gratefully, filling a glass and taking a few quick swallows of the water. You cautioned a glance at Dean, and could tell right away from his face that he felt the same about this as you did. Guarded; untrusting. No angel would feel the way that you did about her - they believed she was an abomination, for Christ’s sake.

“What you’re saying makes sense,” you chanced, “And we do need her health information. At the very least, we can pull her records. Find out more about the mother and how she got in contact with the angel. My guess is the angel possessed her husband, but… There’s no way to know until we do some digging.”

Dean sighed heavily, choosing not to comment on it yet. You both had seen what those monsters had done to Aurora’s mother and “father”. It was vicious. Relentless. Messy. It had gotten to both of you, especially once everything had settled that first night.

But at least she was with you. Dean met your eyes, the both of you on the same mental page, nodding his head and managing a small smile.

“Well…” Dean murmured, carefully standing from the table. “How ‘bout we all go catch a little more shuteye, and then we jump right on that?” You liked the sound of that, nodding your head.

“Sounds like a plan, D,” you smiled over your shoulder at him, ready to follow him from the kitchen. You stopped just as you were about to pass Sam, your hand moving to pat him on the shoulder. “You’ve uhh, got something on your cheek, sweetie.” Your lips stayed smiling as you left the kitchen with his older brother, Sam still standing there looking dazed and confused. At the last second, your peripheral vision caught him reaching up to find the post-it note on his cheek, peeling it away and staring at it in utter dismay.

Giggles were still leaving your lips as you reached Dean’s room, your eyes landing on his figure leaning down into the crib to lay Aurora to bed. His black t-shirt slid up slightly on his back, revealing a small strip of skin above the grey sweats that hung on his hips, and as he straightened back up out of the crib, you found yourself wanting to wrap your arms around him and never let go. You made your way quietly across the room, standing beside him at the crib and gently slipping your arm around his waist, letting your hand sink to his hip and rest there. He smiled tiredly and laid his own arm over your shoulders, tugging you into his side.

“She’s so peaceful when she’s not screaming her head off,” Dean spoke in a soft whisper, his eyes still on Aurora and his lips curled into a warm grin. Your hand affectionately rubbed his side, the other going to rest on the crib.

“Yeah; but she’s more fun when she’s keepin’ us on our toes.” You let your head fall to his shoulder, closing your eyes as your body grew heavy with sleep. Dean’s eyes moved to you, his head tilting forward so he could see your face. He squeezed your shoulder.

He turned his body a little. “Hey,” he murmured, “Come lay down. You’re exhausted.” He was completely right; you could feel your bones and muscles begging for you to sleep. You tilted back to look up at him.

With a gentle kiss on his cheek, you turned and let him lead you to his bed. It was a tight fit, but the two of you slid under the covers, his arm moving to wrap around your middle. He tugged you back into his chest. Normally, he was so… sturdy. Tough. His body was a wall made from stone and brick, and nothing could break it down. But laying there with him, the room cloaked in darkness save for a small light by the baby’s crib, you had never felt anything softer, or more gentle, than the way he was holding you. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and you laid your palm over the back of his hand where it sat above your belly. “Night, Dean.”

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered back, a smile in his tired voice as he finally lay his own head to the pillow. You felt the heat of a melting heart in the center of your chest as you finally sunk into the mattress, sleep overtaking you both just a few minutes later.

---

Ping.

The sound of two more casings hitting the floor fell on deaf, headphone-covered ears as you took aim for your next shot. Bang, bang, bang. Three shots, all through one hole: dead center in its head. Smiling with satisfaction, you lowered your 9mm to reload the clip, tilting your hip to one side and taking your sweet time with it.

For years, your little moments of peace and pleasure had come in the form of the firing range. There was no place like it; you could be by yourself, with your thoughts, your mind processing everything, no one to distract you or judge you. Though Sam and Dean didn’t fall into either of those categories, it was still nice to get into the range from time to time, and this week had certainly lent itself to a short break with a loaded firearm. You’d learned to shoot from both your parents, and this was still a place of nostalgia and approval for you. It was where you showed them you were ready to hunt.

You decided to work on your moving targets, and shifted to the window where the target would slide from side to side. Turning the mechanism on and raising your weapon, you prepared to fire again.

Bam, perfect headshot. Crack, right through the chest. You felt the presence of the taller brother in the range, standing beside you and waiting for you to finish the round. You remained focused, sighing happily once you’d nailed three more shots.

Reaching up to slip the protective headphones off your ears and down to rest around your neck, you turned to Sam. “Hey there, sleepy,” you grinned. You flipped the safety on and set the gun down, leaning your side into the wall and crossing your arms. “You feel better?” He blushed a little out of embarrassment, his hands sliding into his pockets.

“Yeah,” he chuckled back, “Much. Thanks for the headsup earlier.” You nodded, tapping your fingers on your arm. “How’re you holdin’ up with all this?” he asked, the gentle concern that Sam was famous for slowly creeping into his features. His brow was knit tightly together and his lips pursed, eyes focused only on you.

You shrugged, hiding your own worry well beneath the positive exterior you normally wore. “I’m okay, Sam. I really am. It’s obviously going to be… I don’t know. Intense. Difficult. But with the things I’ve been through, and what you two have been through… The three of us can do this. We can handle this.” He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, letting his fingers linger there for a second as he thought about your words.

“And what about you and Dean?” He leaned his head to one side, watching you honestly. “You two have been skirting this thing for years, but now… There’s this baby, and you’re staying with us here, and… I don’t know. Thought I’d ask.” You took your time before you answered, the both of you watching each other carefully. A breath left your lips and you relaxed from the wall, your own hands now sliding into your pockets.

“I won’t lie, I mean… There’s something there. Always has been. But it complicates things, doesn’t it? It’s a huge distraction. I just… I’m glad we’re taking it slow. Not jumping into anything. Because with Aurora to take care of, we can’t be… throwing a relationship into the mix.” He, as always, was completely understanding, listening to your every word. “Sam, just promise me that if I make an idiot of myself, you’ll let me know?” He smiled softly, stepping forward with outstretched arms.

You let him envelope you in a tight hug, hugging him back warmly and rubbing his back. He’d been one of your closest friends for years, and though he was still a year younger than you, you’d always gotten along extremely well with him. You’d cried with him at Jess’ grave after a case had brought the three of you together at Stanford a couple of years back; and though he didn’t know nearly as much about you as Dean did, he had still been there for you when you’d lost your mom, knowing just what to say and how to help you through it. You knew that no matter what came for you, you’d always have Sam to rely on and talk to.

You both let out a relieved breath as you pulled away. “You won’t make an idiot of yourself, y/n; but I promise I’ll be there if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” You reached up, ruffling your hand through his hair and laughing as he immediately jumped back.

“Hey! Hands off!” You rolled your eyes, turning to grab your gun and slide it back into your jeans. “Besides, I’m barely eleven months younger than you. You do not-”

“Mhm. Right.” You ignored him, grabbing the shredded target papers from their hooks and tossing them away. “So, any luck on those health records?” He cleared his throat, still trying to fix his mussed hair.

“That’s actually what I came to let you know. For some reason, they’re sealed,” he sighed, “There’s about a thousand different things that could mean, so I figured I’d hit the road for a day or two and go to the hospital for ‘em.” You followed him toward the exit of the range, concern rumbling through your head. Why on earth would they be sealed?

“And you’re sure the hospital will have everything on file?” you questioned, “And will they even respond to the FBI if the courts have officially sealed them?” Sam led you toward the library, his lips pursed and brain processing.

“There’s no way to know until I get there. Hopefully I get a new kid behind the desk, scare ‘em into letting me see the records. Otherwise, I’m going to have to do it the, uhm… not as legal way.” You raised both eyebrows, your footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“Sam; both ways are the not legal way.”

He rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of their sockets. “You know what I mean.” You laughed at him as you both turned the corner and stepped down into the war room, crossing over towards the library. You heard Dean’s voice and grabbed Sam, halting him in his tracks before you could be detected. “What?!” he whispered back at you.

“Shh!” you immediately slipped your phone from your pocket. “Listen!” You carefully tiptoed forward, Sam hovering behind you as you lifted the phone and hit record.

“C’mon, darlin’,” his voice spoke from inside the library, “Be nice. Be nice for Dean-o.” That. That right there was Dean’s baby voice; and you hadn’t heard it until this moment. A wide grin cracked your face in half as he came into view. You wanted nothing more than to hear him do this for years to come. There were crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes with his goofy smile, and he was busy making cross-eyed faces down at little Aurora where she lay squirming against his hands. There was an obviously full diaper neatly closed on the changing table next to her, and Dean was fighting to close the last tab on the fresh one he’d just put on her. He continued making the most adorable baby goo’s and gah’s for her, and finally, the tab was on. Before he noticed you both, you stopped recording him and put the phone back into your jeans. You cleared your throat.

“So, Sam, the trip should take what, like three days?” Dean immediately straightened up, his eyes un-crossing and his serious, I-definitely-wasn’t-just-doing-that face instantly in play. He pulled a freshly diapered Aurora into his arms and laid her against his shoulder, looking at you both innocently. Sam smiled, playing along with your words.

“Yeah, yeah, I was thinking two or three days. Shouldn’t be long.” You made your way to Dean, your hands going to take her from him. He realized you two hadn’t seen or heard him talking to the baby and smiled, relaxing as he handed her to you.

“You two talkin’ about the hospital records thing?” he asked, turning to throw the dirty diaper into the airtight trash can beside the changing table, which you still didn’t think should be in the library. But nevertheless, Dean had insisted that he move it out to the “common areas” during the day so that she wouldn’t get upset when either of you went to change her. He won that fight after only three bouts of intense crying upon a diaper change on day two.

“That’s the one,” Sam sighed, sitting himself down at the table. You bounced Aurora lovingly in your arms, your fingers occasionally squishing her little cheeks.

“Alright, well,” you started, looking at them both, “You two go. She and I’ll hang out here.” Dean didn’t hesitate, stepping forward with hands raised to object.

“No, no-”

“Listen, both of you,” you interrupted calmly, Aurora gurgling calmly in your hold, “You two go strong-arm that medical assistant and get us the baby’s health history. We need that info. And hopefully you can dig up her mother’s records while you’re there. I’m not really feeling the monkey suits right now, and Sam definitely shouldn’t be going alone when heaven, hell, and everything between is after us.”

Dean wanted to argue. So, so badly, he wanted to refuse. But he looked to you, and then his brother, and he knew you were right. He closed his eyes, his head hanging. “Okay. Alright. But two days, okay? That’s it. Two days, and we’re back.”

Before they left the next morning, you stood on the steps into the garage, watching Sam head to the Impala and set their duffles into the back seat. Dean stood two steps below yours, looking positively unholy in his FBI suit and tie, and locked eyes with you, refusing to look away.

“You call if anything goes sideways, you hear?” He was ready, so ready, for you to say you wanted him to stay. And God knew how much you wanted him to stay. But he and Sam would be right back. No trouble. Just a quick milk run, and back in two days. Longing dragged at him, and one of the toughest men you’d ever known looked up at you with an impossibly vulnerable and open question in his eyes. Are you going to be okay?

You smiled softly and leaned down, holding Aurora tightly as you pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek. The kind of cheek-kiss that said, this was meant for your lips. You pulling away was not part of Dean’s plan, though. As you went to step back, one of his hands came up to the back of your neck, the other supporting Aurora’s back as he tugged you down to him and pressed his soft, warm lips against yours. You weren’t used to having to lean down for him by any stretch, and you let your feet take you down one extra step so you could be even with him. The kiss was so unbearably slow, and sweet, touches of each other’s lips over and over, each time thinking he’d finally pull away and leave, and each time feeling him return to you. Neither of you wanted to let go.

Finally, the gorgeous rumble of the Impala’s engine tugged him away from you, his forehead pressing to yours. “Two days,” you murmured gently, smiling as the taste of him remained ever present on your lips.

He nodded. “I’ll see you in two days, beautiful,” he replied; and then he and his brother were gone.

It was at the end of the second day that you sat in the kitchen, panicked because Aurora wasn’t eating. She wanted food; no, no, she’s tired. But she won’t go down for a nap. No, maybe she’s teething? You couldn’t remember if your little cousin had started teething so early. But then again, would a nephilim follow the same rules as any other child? But the crying certainly wasn’t a dirty diaper, she’d been changed barely ten minutes ago. You paced the kitchen, rocking her, bouncing her, your heart pounding, your mind frustrated with you - you were old enough to know how to take care of an infant. There was no reason you couldn’t figure this out. You tried giving her the binky, but she only cried louder, pushing at it, refusing it.

You hadn’t heard from the boys in seven hours, and though you know they were probably driving back by now and had just forgotten to check in, worry still settled deep into your gut. You were starting to feel like sending Dean with his brother was a terrible idea. You needed him here. You’d leaned on each other those first few days, and it wasn’t until you’d spent forty-eight hours without him that the weight of the responsibility you had taken on really hit you.

Aurora’s screaming was hurting a part of your heart you had never known existed. It wasn’t a normal pain. It was almost like you could feel her suffering as she was imagining it, and it was burrowed deep inside your chest. You took a deep breath and tried to think; what could you-

Her crying suddenly started to simmer down. You turned around, following a different sound. It was your phone; ringing and ringing and ringing. Dean. You looked from the phone, to the baby, little Aurora’s cries still there, but soft, and finally slowing down. Dean’s ringtone had been the same for years, no matter how many phones you’d sifted through. It was, of course, Styx’ Renegade, one of your personal favorites - and it was playing loudly from where it lay on the kitchen table. Aurora was immediately calming down as she listened to it, allowing her tired head to clunk into the crook of your neck.

Quickly, you grabbed the phone, bringing it to your ear and answering it on the last ring. “Dean?” you breathed a relieved laugh, “You’ll never believe-”

“Y/N!” The distress in his voice immediately flipped a switch in your brain.

“Dean, what’s going on? Where are you?”

“Are you okay.?” he asked you, out of breath as if he’d been running. “Are you and Aurora safe?” You looked down at her, finally falling asleep, and exhaled, nerves wracking your body.

“Yeah, Dean, we’re good. We’re good. What the hell are you running from? Are you boys okay?” He took a minute to answer, catching his breath and muttering instructions to Sam. He put the phone on speaker. Sam was the first to reply.

“We were ambushed. Someone else was trying to get to her records, but y/n,” he was speaking fast, you were trying to hang onto his words, “There’s something we found in her file-”

“Sam, they’re still- shit!” Dean’s voice was further from the phone, but you could hear him.

“Where the hell are you two!? I’m sending someone out there,” you hurried from the room, going for your laptop that was still out in the library. Garth’s map of hunters would tell you who could get there the fastest. Your arms were still carrying Aurora as gently and carefully as they could, but the rest of you was a hunter, decisions running through your head and scenarios playing out with every one of them.

“No! No, don’t send anyone, we’ve just gotta lose this tail,” Dean countered, “You two just stay safe, and we’ll be home soon!” You heard him pulling the hammer back on his gun.

“Damnit, Dean! What the hell was in her file?! Where are you?!”

“Sammy, on your right!”  No. No. “Sam!” Their shouting, the sounds of metal clanging and crashing, and screeching tires were all that you heard before the phone call cut out.

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“A Warm, Safe Place” Tags:

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-annie xx