#caretaker dean

[dessertbird]

Daily Destiel 💙💚

You know where you are? What's the date? Earth. Several billion years from the beginning. Come on, buddy. Come on. It's like I was… inside a blender that was set to purée for a tomato salsa. And you're the tomato? In this analogy, yes. Yeah 😂😎❤️

[catnipster69]

Dean is specifically suffering under the weight of what John told him in the hospital: that if Sam goes bad, Dean might have to kill him. So Dean wants to take a break to remove Sam from “all of this.”

I'm rewatching all of Supernatural. Tell me why I'd forgotten about the scene in Croatoan (S2 Ep9) where Dean says, "I think we need to take a break from all of this."

I feel like we all have this headcannon that Sam is the one who wants the white picket fence life, but what about Dean who wants to travel? Who wants to go around the US and see all the sights with his little brother?

Don't mind me. I'll be in the corner crying and thinking about 27-year-old Dean, who's just tired and wants something normal in his life. 🥹🥹🥹

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Did you go and make promises you can't keep?

Well, when ya break them, they break you right back

Amateur mistake

You can take it from me

[rizlowwritessortof]

Dangerous In More Ways Than One

Here we go, my first entry for @jacklesversebingo24 🥰 Prompt is 'Dangerous Suggestion.' Hope you enjoy!

Danger is sometimes just in your mind - but Dean is definitely danger of another kind.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 1954

Warnings: None really, except Dean in a tux; fluff

The warmth of Dean’s hands seeps through the silky fabric of your dress as he holds your waist, kissing you without warning, and the shock steals your breath away. The deliberate clearing of a throat makes it all stop, both of you looking wide-eyed towards the sound.

“Sir, ma’am – sorry, but you’re not supposed to be in here.”

You don’t have to fake your blush, and Dean glances down at the floor with an embarrassed smirk, expertly fooling the security guard standing in the doorway.

“Sorry, man – we were, uh, just looking for a little privacy, and this door was unlocked, so we just…”

“I understand. But you’ll have to find your privacy elsewhere. This office should have been locked and off-limits.”

Dean nods and takes your hand, leading you out the door as the guard steps aside, and he apologizes once again for good measure as you follow him back to the banquet hall. He parks you next to the wall and bends to whisper in your ear. “Sorry about that. Had to think fast.”

Your eyes slide up to meet his for a second, then you stare back at the floor, unwilling to let him read you quite yet. You nod, responding quietly. “Yeah, of course. At least we didn’t get caught.”

He sighs in frustration. “Didn’t get what we were after, either. So we have to come up with a new plan.” He looks over at the buffet table, cocking an eyebrow at the tempting offerings there. “How about we grab some food and a drink, sit down and figure it out.”

You agree, relieved at the thought of getting off your feet. Your heels are killing you. “Sounds good to me.”

He slips an arm around you, and the muscles in your stomach clench as his hand rests possessively at your waist again. He looks incredible in his borrowed tux, and you are having thoughts that you normally batter into submission with focused research, beer and violence against evil creatures. Unfortunately, none of that is available at the moment, but a glass of champagne can’t hurt.

You claim one of the small tables scattered throughout the room, letting Dean play the gentleman and hold your chair as you sit. Who knew he had that in him? You take a gulp of the bubbly, pop a cheese puff into your mouth, and mentally remind yourself to guard your expression before looking up into those stunning green eyes. “So, now what?”

“Well…” he managed between chewing, “I think I should head for the bathroom.”

You laugh softly. “Okay. That’ll teach ‘em.”

“I mean as an excuse, smartass. I should go, look for an unlocked door so we can duck inside and wait until everybody clears out. Then we pick the lock again, grab that fucking cursed statue and we’re home free.” The amused smile is still on your face, and he can’t resist responding with a slow grin that makes your heart skip a little. “Well, that’s my suggestion. You got anything better?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I think that’s probably the best plan. So – go tinkle or whatever, I’ll guard your baby quiche.”

He stands up, narrowing his eyes at you. “Just so you know, I counted those.” You can’t help but giggle as he turns to go. The man is serious about his food.

He isn’t gone long, sits down and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Okay, we’re good. Just need to wait until the crowd thins out a little so we can get in there without Mall Cop catching us.” He glances down, then glares over at you. “You ate one of my quiche.”

People have finally started to leave, and you are so ready for this night to be over. You had taken as long as possible to eat, each had another drink, strolled around pretending to look at the art on display, but you are officially over wearing heels and trying to act like you fit in with this rich, pretentious crowd.

The guard Dean had dubbed ‘Mall Cop’ is busy manning the door as people leave, so now is as good a time as any to get yourselves settled in for the next hour or two until the place is empty. Dean guides you down the hall, a couple of doors down from the office you needed to get into later, looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear.

“Ok, let’s go,” Dean says, his voice barely above a whisper. He opens the door, craning his neck to look over his shoulder as he urges you past him to the doorway. “Get in there before somebody sees us.”

You step around him, and your eyes grow wide as your hands fly out to brace on the sides of the door frame. “This is a bad idea.”

Dean’s voice hisses in your ear as he pushes you inside. “You agreed to it, sweetheart, now move.”

He squeezes in behind you, pulling the door closed quietly. It’s pitch black and there’s barely enough room for both of you in the tiny broom closet, which is luckily empty of all but a couple of brooms and a mop leaning in one corner. “I changed my mind. I hate your suggestion. It’s a very bad suggestion. A very bad, dangerous suggestion.”

Dean scoffs at your comment. “It’s not dangerous. As long as we’re quiet, they’re not gonna know we’re here. They’ll all clear out in an hour or so, and then we can hit Maitland’s office, get that damn statue and then we’re outta here.”

Your breathing is quickening, your heart beginning to pound. “It is dangerous. I can feel it.”

You feel his hand on your shoulder, his fingers trailing down the length of your bare arm as he chuckles softly. “Afraid to be in the dark with me?” His hand covers yours, and he freezes for a moment, feeling the trembling of your fingers beneath his. When he speaks, the tone of his voice is completely different. “Claustrophobia? But I thought you were okay with hiding out until...”

“I thought it would be a room. Like, a real room, a whole, big room with, you know, room and – and air. Lots and lots of air. Not a tiny death trap. We’re gonna get stuck in here, the walls are going to close in on me and I… I can’t breathe.” Even though you are whispering, your fear comes through loud and clear.

Dean moves both of his hands up to your upper arms, supporting you. “We’re not going to get trapped. All I have to do is open the door, there’s not even a lock on it. Okay?” His voice is gentle as he continues. “The walls aren’t going to close in on you.”

Your trembling continues, and each breath is coming in soft, desperate little whines. “I… can’t…”

He says your name quietly. “Do you trust me?” After a second, you nod, and he gives your arms a squeeze. “Okay. First of all, take off those ridiculous shoes. You need to get comfortable.”

You slip out of your heels, doing what he asks without question, and the cool floor on your bare feet is actually soothing.

“Okay, now just lean back into me.” He moves his hands to cover yours, bringing them up to rest at your waist. “Just relax, feel when I breathe and breathe with me. In – out. In – out. In – out.” His hands stay on yours, holding you in place, grounding you as he slowly guides you out of your panic.

You are tense at first, but gradually you lay your head back against his shoulder and relax against his firm chest, your body responding and your breathing syncing with his. Your quaking begins to calm, and Dean gives your hand a squeeze. “Better?”

You nod as you answer. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You draw in a shaky breath. “Just – talk to me. So I don’t have to think about where I am.”

“What do you want me to talk about?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Anything.”

He blows out a breath. “Okay. So – you look amazing tonight.”

You let out a disbelieving little laugh. “Wow, you really are trying to distract me.”

He sputters a little as he answers. “No! Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I should have told you before, but when you came out in this slinky dress and those sexy high heels, I couldn’t get any words to come out. So, I’m telling you now.”

You blow out an incredulous breath. “I – didn’t think you even noticed how I look. Like, ever.” You tilt your head back as if you can look up at him, even though it’s too dark to see. “And you said my shoes were ridiculous.”

“Well, they are. I mean, they can’t be comfortable. But they are sexy, and when you walk, it kinda puts a little extra swing in your step, it’s – ah…” he clears his throat. “Yeah, sexy.”

“Women are used to being uncomfortable just to look good for men.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t need to. I mean, you always look good. Barefoot, in your old jeans, or those cute little cut-offs you wear sometimes. And that old sweatshirt that hangs off your shoulder, that’s good, too.” He leans down so he can speak softly in your ear. “Kinda makes me want to take a bite.”

You’re finding it hard to breathe again. “You’ve never even tried.”

“Well, maybe the time’s never been right. Or maybe I just didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“Wow. And I thought you could see right through me.”

“You’ve always kept your distance, and I thought that’s the way you wanted it.” His thumb is brushing over the soft skin of your hand.

“I thought that’s the way you wanted it. I didn’t think you were even interested in anything else.”

“Shhhhh,” Dean whispers, and you both go silent. Footsteps echo in the hall, then a voice right outside the door makes you jump.

“Did you check the bathrooms?” A distant ‘yeah’ came back in reply. “Good, then let’s get the hell out of here and go grab a beer.”

The footsteps retreat back the way they came, and you let out the breath you were holding. “Just a few minutes to make sure they’re gone,” Dean says softly, and you nod.

After a few long minutes have passed, he finally reaches behind him and opens the door. The dim nightlights in the hallway let you see your way out, and you take a deep breath. “This is much better.”

You start to take a step, but Dean takes hold of your hand and stops you, backing you into the wall.

“You still owe me for that quiche you stole,” he says, his eyes shining playfully. Then he bends to kiss you, gentle at first, then more hungrily as you grab at his jacket to tug him closer. When he finally lifts his head, you are both panting, his eyes searching yours as he waits for your reaction.

“I knew this was gonna be dangerous - in more ways than one,” you tease, and he grins, a touch of relief in his eyes.

“Danger is my middle name,” Dean quips in his best Austin Powers voice, and you giggle, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him again. You smile slyly up at him as you slide out from between him and the wall, heading towards the office that holds your target. “Hey,” he says, and you stop, turning to look at him. He holds out his hand, your shoes dangling from his fingers. “Don’t forget your ridiculous shoes.”

Tags for my lovelies: 

 @saenalife    @deanscarlett    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog 

   @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid      @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel  

  @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5  

  @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog   

        @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain  

  @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie 

   @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic  

  @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma   

 @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1   

 @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed  

  @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82 

 @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee     @mrsjenniferwinchester   @yeehawbitchs  

 @emily-winchester  @hobby27    spnbaby-67   @zepskies  @ladysparkles78  

@alwaystiredandconfused   @just-another-busyfangirl    @muhahaha303    @deansimpalababy    @kr804573  

@suckitands33    @ej13928    @lmhf1

[paunchsalazar]

Dean should have been the new new Bobby… I’ll kill myself

[profoundbondfanfic]

Not Quite Fuck Buddy

Not Quite Fuck Buddy by casuallyneurotic, HesitateDisintegrate || @casuallyneurotic Rating: General audiences Word count: 9k

“Come on. You look like you’re about to pass out right there.” “If I could do that, this wouldn’t be happening,” Castiel muttered, but he obligingly put his hand in Dean’s and allowed the man to help pull him up. He swayed dangerously, and Dean rested a hand to his back, steadying him. His touch was warm, and Castiel found himself leaning into it. Castiel is getting desperate for sleep, and when his roommate suggests he find a cuddle buddy, he figures it can’t hurt to give it a shot.

Or the one where Cas is so sleep-deprived, he is positively hilarious to watch. And while Charlie does snicker a bit at his antics, she is also very worried, which is why she tells him to find a warm body to sleep next to.

Now, she might have had something entirely different in mind, but finding someone to cuddle up to turns out to be just what the doctor ordered. Or maybe, it was all just Dean. He is kind and his voice is soothing and he knows exactly what to do and what to say. Really, the perfect, most softest pillow.

Someone Cas might want to get to know better... After he wakes up.

[glamlet69]

The Destiel Sickfic is still in the works (I'm sorry), so here's another snippet to tide you over!

Dean nodded. “Do you plan on sticking around?” He didn’t know why he immediately regretted asking the question, but he did.

Cas looked at him again, making sudden and uncomfortable eye contact. Dean almost looked away, but he forced himself not to.

“Would you like me to?”

“Uh, I mean if you want to. I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“'Okay' you’re staying? Or 'okay' you’ll think about it?” 

“I’ll stay until you’re better. Something tells me Sam might need some help.”

Dean frowned, offended. “What's that supposed to mean?”

It was then that Cas smiled, exhaling a small chuckle.

Before anything else could be said, Sam returned, raising an eyebrow and hesitating in the hallway when he saw Cas in the doorway.

[fandom-hoarder]

Too F'n High

Summary: “Here, drink this,” Dean says. A small plastic cup is pressed to his lips, and the strong, medicinal odor of Nyquil almost clears Sam’s sinuses on its own. He whines again, not daring to open his mouth to actually voice his complaint, and hoping his stuffy nose lets him last long enough. Dean knows he hates this stuff. It makes him so groggy and woozy he can barely function, and he doesn’t even like to take a full dose. He tries to reach for the cup, but Dean grabs his wrist and Sam wonders how many hands Dean has.  The cup leaves Sam’s tightly closed lips and Dean sighs. “Sammy, c’mon, ya gotta let me take care of you, man.”

[AKA "dean feeds sam nyquil while he has a cold, and does somnophilia" --Finally, it is done!]

Written for @wincestwednesdays July 2024

July 31st Prompt: in sickness & in health

Tags: sickfic, caretaker dean, sick sam, fever, fever dream, dubcon medication, dubcon/noncon somnophilia, watersports elements, masturbation, underage, weecest, pining Sam, Sam POV, a dash of humiliation and praise kink, a pinch of oral fixation Sam, pubescent Sam

Note: Gifted to @supernaturalkickparty as a very late birthday present. Also extremely late finishing this for the fest. I was sick when I started this lol.

[1heartfanfics]

Hello! Is there anyway you could write a Dean/Cas (Romantic or platonic, up to you.) Dean is the sickee, maybe while on the road or just laying around in the bunker. Maybe he’s extra grouchy and irritable and Castiel just *knows* there is something wrong with his man.

So my favorite way to write destiel is somewhere in between. Not an established romantic relationship exactly but definitely not platonic either. An unspoken relationship that everyone knows about but never says outloud. Also this is really short, sorry.

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

"What?" Dean asked shortly, having caught Cas watching him for just a bit too long.

"Are you alright Dean?" Cas asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

"I'm fine," Dean huffed.

Cas knew he wasn't though. He'd known as soon as Dean came into the kitchen that morning looking like he hadn't slept in days, dark circles under bloodshot eyes, face pale with slightly flushed cheeks. Then he'd made two pieces of toast for breakfast instead of his usual bacon and eggs.

All telltale signs of a fever and an upset stomach. Dean was clearly sick, but Cas knew he wasn't going to admit it very easily. So he just rolled his eyes and went back to scrolling through news feeds on the laptop.

The next time he looked up, Dean was leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. Had he fallen asleep? He really must be sick...

"Dean?" Cas asked quietly, not wanting to startle him. Dean tended to react aggressively when someone startled him.

"Hmm?" Dean jolted awake, eyes darting around the room for a second before settling on Cas.

"You fell asleep?" Cas asked, although he didn't really mean it as a question. What he meant was 'what's wrong with you?', which Dean would know. Whether or not he answered honestly was another question entirely.

"Didn't sleep well," Dean shrugged noncommittally.

Cas nodded. As if he believed that a poor night of sleep was the only thing going on with Dean. He thought better of pressing the issue any further for the moment, as he knew it would only made Dean angry. He was grumpy when he was sick.

A few minutes later Dean got up and walked out of the room. Cas heard the shower turn on from down the hall.

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked, likely having passed Dean in the hallway and had the same concerns that Cas had.

"He's sick," Cas shrugged.

Sam raised an eyebrow skeptically, "He tell you that?"

"No," Cas rolled his eyes. "But he is," he added.

"I don't know man, I feel like Dean never gets sick," Sam shrugged, still not buying it. But Cas knew the man better than Sam did, and he knew that Dean was sick.

As if on cue, the sound of retching came from down the hall to prove Cas's point.

Sam winced, "Hangover?" he suggested.

"All he ate for breakfast was some toast, which means that he's sick because if he was hungover he would have made bacon or something," Cas shook his head.

Sam held his hands up in mock surrender, realizing that Cas had been right. "Should we go check on him?" he asked, gesturing over his shoulder.

"I'll go," Cas said, standing up from the table. He knew that Dean would still be reluctant to accept his help, but even more so from his little brother.

He gave Sam a light clap on the shoulder as he passed, knowing that Sam was worried about his brother, even if he wouldn't admit it. But Cas would take care of him, regardless of if Dean wanted him to or not.

[adalwolfgang]

[castiellesbian]

[going through my day][remembers "it wasn't perfect till after she died"][explodes]

[winchesterlesbian]

The characterization of Dean as a loving, doting mother to Sam is one of the main things that influences my "some Dean fans don't even like Dean, they like a character they made up" theory

[sweet-lost-husbands]

Hidden Wounds

Hurt/Comfort

Its late I have no idea whats happening anymore. 🫠🫠

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Y/n is Dean's daughter and he takes her on a hunt for the first time. She gets injured and tries to hide it.

Warnings: Serious injury, blood, gore, stiches, painful angel healing.

No usage of y/n.

Italics are the character's thoughts

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Not edited... sorry for any mistakes

Searing pain tore through her side as thick claws dug into her flesh. However, the monster was soon pulled away and begun to fight Dean. Shit.

Dean never brought her out on hunts for this reason specifically. As her father, it would kill him if she got hurt or worse and he couldn’t protect her. It was only by some miracle that Sam had convinced him, but now there was no way in hell they’d ever let her hunt again.

She acted quickly, zipping up her jacket to conceal the wound. She didn’t have time to inspect it or find a way to keep pressure because Dean was only meters away finishing off the vamp.

She couldn’t let him find out.

She noticed as something changed in him when he looked at her, maybe he had saw the brief wince of pain that flickered across her face.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked, concern etched into his features.

Double shit. He was on to her.

She forced a smile, trying to play it off. "Yeah, just a bit tired from all the action."

He gave her a scrutinizing look but didn't press further, assuming her tiredness was due to the action of the hunt. They continued with their mission, the adrenaline masking the pain that now throbbed in her side. God it hurt.

The fight was a quick one with new vamps who didn’t really know how to put up much resistance and they headed back to their motel.

“You did so well.” Dean praised. If only he knew.

Her eyes had long blurred at the edges and her head spun. She felt like she was as weak as kitten and her legs threatened to give in as she stood.

With the high gone, she felt the pain intensify, but she remained silent, not wanting to worry her father and Sam. She changed into fresh clothes, hoping to hide the blood seeping through her shirt, but she couldn't hide it for long.

Walking into the main room, Dean and Sam noticed her sluggish movements and the pallor that washed over her face. Concern etched into every line of their faces as they finally realized something wasn’t right.

Dean immediately abandoned whatever he was doing and rushed up to her, Sam in tow.

“Hey, easy, easy, let me see.” He came to a stop in front of her, analysing every inch of her body and wondering how in the hell he could have missed something like this. His hands found their way to her jacket wanting a better look to see if she was hurt.

“No.” She snapped, weakly fighting his roaming hands with what little energy she had left.

That’s when he managed to unzip it and see the new shirt beneath, completely soaked through with a thick crimson.

“Holy-” She swiftly cradled her in his arms and carried her to his bed.

“’m fine.” She mumbled but he shushed her.

“Darling you’re not.”

“Sam, a little help.” He called but Sam was already next to him with the first aid kit.

They quickly cut away her clothing enough to give her privacy but still see the wound. Only then did they realise the severity of her injury.

"What happened?" Dean's voice was laced with a mixture of worry and anger. "Why didn't you tell us you were hurt?"

“Because you won’t let me hunt again.” She whispered, breaking into a scream as Sam applied pressure with such force it felt like his entire body weight was on her. A hand was clasped around her mouth.

Sam’s big eyes met her. “I’m sorry but you have to be quiet.”

Despite Dean’s frustration he gently held her hand, wanting to be there for her. “Damn straight I won’t let you hunt again, especially if you get hurt and refuse to tell us.”

Sam removed the pressure and started to examine the damage. Her heart pounded as she anticipated the pain that was to come. It was definitely going to need stitches.

Dean's face softened as he looked at his daughter, his voice worried and gentle. "It's going to hurt, sweetheart, but we need to patch you up." In the meantime, he quickly sent a prayer to Castiel to get here soon to heal her and take away her pain. He never wanted her to have to go through something like this.

“I don’t-”

Dean cut her off, “Shhh, I’m right here, I won’t let anything else happen to you.”

She nodded, trying to steel herself for the pain ahead. She squeezed her eyes shut as Sam carefully cleaned the wounds, his touch gentle despite the urgency of the situation. But the sudden burn of the antiseptic sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but flinch and squirm.

Dean held her hand tightly, providing a source of comfort and support. "You're doing great. Just a little longer."

He could barely watch as Sam took out the needle and started to work. Each prick of the needle sent jolts of pain through her. She tried to remain still, not wanting to prolong the process, but her body trembled with each stitch and when it got too much, she tried to pull away, but Sam kept her there.

“I know, I know.” Dean kissed her forehead.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she fought them back, refusing to let her pain be a burden to her family. She knew they were mad at her for not seeking help earlier, and she couldn't bear to see disappointment in their eyes.

When the stitching was finally done, she took a shaky breath, relieved that it was over. She managed to will one hand up to try and feel around the wound, but her hand was pulled away.

“Don’t touch it, we don’t want to have too re-clean it.”

She couldn’t recall when exactly, but Cas arrived, his eyes filled with concern as he saw her condition. "Are you hurt?" he asked softly, already knowing the answer.

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, but I'll be fine."

Cas placed a hand on her injured side, his healing energy flowing through her. But this time, the healing hurt more than she anticipated. It was like a burning fire coursing through her veins, and she couldn't help but cry out in pain.

"I'm sorry," Cas said, his voice full of remorse. "Healing deep wounds is always more painful."

She gritted her teeth, holding back the tears as she endured the pain. She knew that Cas was doing his best to help her, and she was grateful for his healing touch, even though it hurt.

As the healing process finished, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, but she also felt a sense of relief. Her father, uncle, and Cas were there for her, supporting her through the pain and fear.

As the night settled in, she found herself cradled in her father's arms, her body still aching but her heart filled with warmth. The events of the day had brought them closer together, and she knew that she would never forget the hurt and comfort that had defined their hunt.

With her family by her side, she felt a newfound strength and courage. She was a Winchester, and they faced the darkness together, no matter how painful the journey may be. And as she drifted off to sleep, she knew that her father, uncle and Cas would always be there to protect her, just as she would be there for them in return.

[hakusins]

like i know if we don't pay him, hes gonna sell us to sex traffickers, but he's so cute HJBERFBHJERF what a grump

[shallowseeker]

Jack doesn't complain about Sam's cooking so much as sighs sadly at it, poking it with his fork at long, drawn-out intervals.

///

At least Mary likes Sam's cooking.

One night, after cutting out of dinner early to finish an email to one of the AU hunters, Sam comes back in to find her raking the contents of her plate into the garbage.

She freezes.

Recovering, she sputters, "I-it had a hair in it."

[somerandomjewelleryonthefloor]

Thank you Mother Swan 🦢.