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nicksalchemy1 · 8 months ago

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Mientras Respiro, Espero - Part 1

Pairing: Firefighter AU Dean Winchester x Nurse!Plus-Size!Mexican!Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, a firefighter with a reputation for casual flings, finds himself longing for something more meaningful in his life. Meanwhile, you, a stubborn surgical intern, are trying to escape your past in California. When Dean loses a bet and is tasked with cleaning the trucks, your paths cross unexpectedly. Little do both of you know meeting each other would cause some problems.

A/N: “Mientras Respiro, Espero”: Spanish for “while I breathe, I wait.”

Here’s the first part of my little story. I really like writing in this universe and if part goes well, then I’ll continue posting. (I’m gonna post it anyways 🧐) Credits for inspiration again go to @zepskies !!

🚒 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2,167

Warnings: Toxic parental situation, mentions of fat-shaming, childhood trauma, and a quick old-fashioned meet cute.

Part 1 - Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Avalon, California, was a gilded cage with ocean views, where the houses were as polished as the facades people wore. It was in one such manicured home where your story paused.

“Mija, you’re wasting your life with these... these dreams of yours! ¡No seas tan estúpida!” Your mother’s voice was a razor wrapped in velvet, cutting into you as you packed the last of your belongings into an old, battered suitcase.

The room was a mausoleum of your former life, with its pristine walls adorned with academic accolades and a full-length mirror that once reflected a girl desperate to please. Now, it only mirrored your resolve.

“I’m saving it, not wasting it,” you shot back, the words tumbling from your lips like brave soldiers in battle. You tucked a framed photo of your childhood self – the one with the broadest, most hopeful eyes – into the suitcase's side.

Your mother’s silhouette filled the doorway, her arms crossed in the silent indictment. “And what about the family reputation? Our standing in the community?”

You zipped up the suitcase, and the sound of a definitive line drawn. “What about my happiness, Mamí? What about living a life that’s actually mine? With someone who won’t pick on me like I’m still a child?”

She scoffed dismissively, a sound that stung like salt in an open wound. “Esos gringos no saben nada. Happiness is a luxury for those who can afford to be foolish.”

You locked eyes with her in the mirror, your own gaze hardened like forged steel. “Then consider me a fool.”

The house seemed to hold its breath as you shouldered past her, suitcase in hand. Your father stood in the hallway, a silent sentinel. His eyes, a mirror of your own, flickered with something that might have been pride or sorrow – or both.

“Daddy,” you whispered, pausing for a moment.

He cleared his throat, a rumble from deep within. “You always were the stubborn one,” he murmured, his voice barely above a soft-spoken whisper. “Be careful. Call me anytime you need me.”

A nod was all you could muster before you descended the staircase, each step a drumbeat to your newfound freedom. The door closed behind you with a finality that echoed through your bones. The California sun dipped low, as if bowing to your courage.

The suitcase wheels rumbled against the cobblestone path, a small but sure declaration of your departure. Behind you, the house – a beautiful prison of expectation and familial duty – faded into just another part of the landscape.

You didn't look back.

Considering it was your first time flying in an airplane, first class at that, you were anxious. Not about actually being in the plane around people or the way the lady in the seat across from your aisle coffee smelled like someone took a fancy shit, but because you were moving in with a couple that you trusted yet, hardly knew.

Mary and John Winchester were rough around the edges, but they meant well. They knew what happened in your household, how toxic it was, and invited you to stay with them in Lawerence. Plus, you would be able to keep your job. Mary was head of Neurosurgery and earned you a spot as a surgical intern. Working hard or hardly working, am I right? You thought to yourself, smiling to yourself.

And boy, were these ‘gringos’ rich. Not only did they offer you that extra guest room in their house, but they also bought you your first-class seat, in which your butt was in right now.

You knew John was a respected detective, and with his income mixed with Mary’s, they made bank.

You also knew they had two sons. John and Mary mentioned their names, but you knew the youngest worked for the ADA, and the oldest worked as a firefighter.

Cool. Wonder what that's like, you tilt your head in thought.

A stable work life, home life, and family. But not all ‘picture-perfect’ families meant they were truly picture perfect.

And that was for you to figure out.

The airplane descended through the cotton candy clouds, and the world below began to take shape—a patchwork of fields and roads that would soon become your new reality. Your heart danced a nervous tango with the seatbelt across your lap, anticipation tightening with every drop in altitude.

The captain's voice crackled through the cabin, announcing the imminent landing in Lawrence. You straightened up, smoothing the fabric of your jeans as if to iron out the last creases of your past life.

When the wheels kissed the tarmac, you felt a jolt, not unlike the one that had propelled you out of your family’s house. You collected your single suitcase from the overhead bin—a symbol of your fresh start—and made your way through the aisle with a resolve that echoed the click-clack of your boots on the aircraft's floor.

The airport was small but buzzing with life, a hive of reunions and farewells. You stood for a moment at the arrival gate, scanning the crowd until you saw them.

Mary's presence was undeniable. She stood with a grace that spoke of her surgical precision, her eyes warm and welcoming. John, equally imposing in his own right, had the stance of a man who had weathered storms and could chart a course through any adversity.

They spotted you almost immediately, and Mary’s smile widened as she opened her arms. “There she is! Welcome to Kansas!”

You stepped into her embrace, the scent of antiseptic mingling with a soft perfume—a stark contrast to the oppressive aroma of your mother's overwhelming floral scents. “Thank you, Mary,” you smiled, grateful for the genuine warmth.

John extended his hand, which you shook firmly, finding in his grip the silent support of a seasoned detective. “Good to have you here. We’ve got the guest room all set up for you,” he said, his voice a deep timbre of reassurance.

You nodded, your eyes meeting his. “I can’t thank you both enough for this opportunity.”

As you walked through the airport, with Mary’s hand lightly on your back and John carrying your suitcase, you felt the weight of your old life lifting. The conversation was light, peppered with Mary’s questions about your flight and John’s quips about Kansas being the true heart of America.

Once in the car, the grilling starts. “So, how are you doing, hun?” Mary asks curiously, mainly because she’s concerned and trying to make sure you’re comfortable.

“Oh, you know, as good as you can be while moving state from state.” You remark as politely as possible, trying not to seep tension into the car ride.

“I hope you feel better. When we get to the house, you’re welcome to rest. I don’t cook very well,” She clears her throat, shrugging, “But I can give you some money to order something in?”

“I couldn’t do that, but thank you. It’s late, anyways. I’ll wait till tommorow morning.”

“Okay. Just as along as you’re comfortable.” Mary winks, a soft, motherly smile on her face.

You nod, meeting her smile with the same.

John pulls the Volkswagen van into the driveway and puts it in park, shutting the engine off. “Home sweet home.”

You sigh and step out of the car, staring at the home. The house is a two-story structure with a prominent green exterior. It features white trim around the windows and roof edges, contrasting nicely with the green. The front door is wooden with a rich, warm tone. There are two windows on the upper floor and one window on either side of the front door on the ground floor. A chimney extends from the left side of the roof, indicating a fireplace inside.

A well-maintained lawn adorned with various small plants and flowers. A concrete pathway leads to three steps up to a small porch area before reaching the wooden front door.

Mary leads you up to where your room is at and it seemed to be one of her boy’s old nurseries, but now the wall was decorated with two old band posters, The Beatles and a Zeppelin poster. Huh. The bed had a floral blanket and a navy sheet under it. There were two pillows in a white silk covers and a lamp on the beside table.

“John and I are gonna hit the hay, so, goodnight, love.” Mary waves from the doorframe, giving you one last glance before heading off.

“Goodnight,” You reply, setting your suitcase down beside your bed and lay back on your bed.

In the locker room, you changed into your scrubs, the fabric feeling foreign yet exciting against your skin. You tucked your hair under a surgical cap and checked yourself in the mirror. Ready.

The hospital corridors were a maze of activity, doctors and nurses moving with a sense of urgency that was almost palpable. You found your way to the intern's lounge, where a group of young doctors was gathered, pouring over patient charts and sipping on coffee as if it were a lifeline.

That's when you met her — Charlie Bradbury. With her vibrant red hair and a stack of comic books under her arm, she was a splash of color in the sterile environment. She noticed you immediately, her green eyes lighting up with an impish sparkle.

"Hey, you must be the new kid! I'm Charlie, your friendly neighborhood genius slash intern. Welcome to the chaos!" she greeted you with an outstretched hand, adorned with quirky rings.

"Thanks, I'm..." you began.

"Don't tell me," she interrupted playfully, "You're the one who just flew in from Cali, right? Mary's been raving about you."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Guilty as charged."

Charlie showed you around, her chatter filling the spaces between the bustle of the hospital. She introduced you to the other interns, the nurses, and even the grumpy guy who ran the coffee cart. Throughout the day, you shadowed her as she confidently navigated patient care, inserting IV lines with precision and calming anxious patients with her quirky humor.

Despite the exhaustion that came with the endless rounds and the mountain of new information, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You were doing this, really doing it — and you were not alone.

In the afternoon, Mary tasked you with delivering first aid kits to the local fire department as part of a community outreach program. You welcomed the break from the hospital walls and made your way to the fire station with a box of supplies in tow.

As you approached, you noticed a firefighter washing a large, red truck — his sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular arms, and his focus never wavering from the task at hand. You hesitated for a moment before approaching.

"Excuse me," you called out, "I have a delivery from Lawrence General?"

He turned around, and you were met with striking green eyes and a smudge of soap on his cheek. He was ruggedly handsome, with a stubble that spoke of long hours and a jaw set with determination.

"Oh, hey," he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thanks for the-"

Before he could finish, another firefighter called out to him, "Dean, we need you!"

"Sorry, duty calls," he said with a charming, apologetic grin. "Just leave the kits by the door, and thanks again."

"No problem," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as the moment ended too quickly. You placed the box down and watched as he jogged back to his colleagues, ready to respond to the next emergency.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur, and before you knew it, Mary was driving you back to the Winchester home. As the car hummed along the road, she glanced at you with a knowing smile.

"I hope your first day wasn't too overwhelming. You did great," she said encouragingly.

"It was definitely a day to remember," you admitted with a tired smile.

Mary's expression turned warm and excited as she announced, "Well, get ready for a family dinner tonight. John and I want you to meet our sons properly. They're excited to have you."

The thought of the evening ahead sparked a mix of nerves and curiosity within you.

"Oh, uh, okay." you replied slightly indifferent by the unexpected dinner, but the prospect of a meal with a family that wouldn’t make measure how many calories your plate has won’t be bad just because you had to meet your “landlord’s” sons. “Sounds nice.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

And there’s that! Next time. 😉

Character Introduction For This Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #latina!reader #plus size!reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x reader #spn #firefighter au #supernatural #fanfic #reader insert #mexican!reader #spotify

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anotherspnfanfic · 2 years ago

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Hit and Run: Nightmares

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count: 2540

Square Filled: Hugs for TMAS bingo @supernatural-jackles

Warnings: nightmares, character death (but not really), lots of fluff

Summary: Dean is still haunted by her accident.

A/N: Well it’s been over 2 years since the last timestamp on this but this part of the accident I never wrote into the original series wouldn’t get out of my head... so here it is. 😊

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

~~~~~

It was a beautiful spring day. Clear blue skies, birds chirping, and the smell of freshly-mowed grass lingering in the air. A perfect day, yet Dean couldn’t seem to shake this sense of dread.

He rinsed soap suds off the side of the truck. Before he could set the hose down, the bells sounded through the station. Hastily, he and the rest of the crew loaded into the trucks and pulled out of the station.

The lieutenant advised they were headed to a single-vehicle hit-and-run crash on the highway.

The silencing of the sirens and hiss of the air brakes announced their arrival on the scene. He was overcome with an intense sense of déjà vu as he climbed out of the truck to see the mangled blue Mustang.

Everyone moved towards the car to begin extricating the driver, but he couldn’t move. He felt like his feet were cemented to the ground.

Before he could figure out why, he was standing behind the ambulance with her on the stretcher. His hand was in hers as she cried out in agony. “I know it hurts. Just breathe and squeeze as hard as you need to, sweetheart.” She was then loaded into the ambo with him sitting beside her.

He held tightly onto her hand, worried that if he let go, she might just disappear. Suddenly, she squeezed his hand, panic filling her eyes as she struggled to breathe. In an attempt to soothe her however he could, he ran his thumb softly over her knuckles.

As Sam and Cas worked to treat her, he whispered soft reassurances. He was fairly certain she didn’t hear him over the commotion, but he continued anyway. Less than a minute passed, and she was able to breathe easier once more.

Dean watched as she slowly started to relax as the adrenaline in her system began to fade. She fought to keep her eyes open and her grip firm on his hand.

“Four minutes out!” Benny hollered from the driver's seat.

Moments later, her hand went lax in his just before she lost her fight for consciousness. “Stay awake, kiddo. Come on, open your eyes,” he pleaded.

Next, the heart monitor began to blare warning tones. “V-fib,” Cas announced.

“Damn it,” Sam muttered. Pressing his fingers against her neck, he added, “Lost her pulse. Dean, compressions.”

Once again, Dean was completely frozen in place. Why couldn’t he move? He had to save her.

He blinked and was then standing outside the trauma room at the hospital. He watched as the doctors worked to resuscitate her. “No,” he breathed out. “No, no, no. This isn’t what happened.”

“Hold compressions,” said the doctor. “Clear.”

Dean flinched as she was shocked once again. He shook his head. “We got her back in the ambulance. This is all wrong.”

The doctor looked at the monitor as the monotone droned on. He shook his head and sighed defeatedly.

“No. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Time of death…”

Dean gasped, jolting upright. Disoriented, it took a moment for him to realize where he was. He was at home, in his own bed.

As he tried to catch his breath, he glanced over his shoulder to see her sleeping soundly. She was safe and right beside him. He sighed in relief. It was only a nightmare.

Once he’d started to regain his bearings, he took a slow, deep breath. He scrubbed his hand down his face in an attempt to wipe the remaining images from his mind.

“Dean?” she asked, grogginess in her voice.

Not having noticed she’d woken, he nearly startled at the sound. Looking over his shoulder once more, he plastered on what he hoped was a convincing smile. “It’s early, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

She wasn’t convinced, though. Hearing the breathlessness in his voice, she pushed herself up to sit beside him. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t look at her as he nodded. “Yeah. Just a bad dream. I’m fine.”

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked as she rubbed between his shoulder blades.

He shrugged.

“Was it about that bad call this week? That fire…?”

He shuddered at the memory, but shook his head. “No, but maybe that was what triggered it.”

She didn’t push. Instead, she just wrapped her arms around him and squeezed gently. Keeping her arms snug around him, she rested her head on his shoulder and waited for him to speak again.

He lowered his head to kiss her arm and then turned his head awkwardly to press another to the top of her head. “It was about you.” She pulled back just enough to see his face. “Your accident. It was like I was back in that ambo with you when you almost—” He cleared his throat. “Except in the nightmare, you did.”

“Hey.” She shifted to kneel in front of him and took his face between her hands. “But I didn’t. I’m right here.”

“You did, though,” he whispered, closing his eyes tightly. “For a very long three and a half minutes… you were dead.”

She lifted his hand and placed his palm against her chest and held it there. “See, I’m just fine. I’m alive, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As his eyes locked with hers again, she watched some of the tension in his shoulders start to melt away.

She laid her hand over his heart, and he lifted his free hand to press hers tight to his chest. She could feel that it was still racing with the remnants of fear from his nightmare. She leaned forward and started to pepper kisses across his jawline and down the side of his neck.

He let his head fall forward to rest in the crook of her neck. She moved her hand to the back of his neck and started to play with the short hairs. They sat like that for several minutes in silence as he reassured himself that she really was there and she was okay.

“Besides…” she started, pulling away to look at him with a smirk. “You didn’t even know me back then. It would have just been another crappy day at the office.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That is not funny.”

She chuckled. “Just a little?”

He shook his head. “Not even a smidge.” Grabbing her arm, he quickly spun her around so her back was against his chest and then flopped back against the bed.

She squealed at the abrupt movement as he rolled both of them to their sides and made himself comfortable.

She smiled. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you more.” He squeezed her hard before his hands found hers. With his left, he interlaced their fingers, and his right wrapped around her wrist, his fingertips settling against her pulse.

His fingers stayed firmly in place until his breathing evened out and he relaxed into sleep. It was a position he fell asleep in fairly regularly. She had never really understood why. Until now.

Once she was sure he was fully asleep, she gave into her own drowsiness. She took a deep breath, enveloped in the smell of his shampoo and aftershave. Pulling their intertwined hands closer, she pressed a kiss to his knuckles before drifting off.

When she woke again, sunlight streamed through the crack between the curtains. Dean’s arm was now loosely draped over her waist as he snored lightly.

She contemplated waking him, but decided against it. After the nightmare he’d had, she figured he could use the extra rest. She thought about just lying there or trying to go back to sleep until he woke up, but then her stomach growled loudly. Rolling just enough to look over her shoulder at Dean, she smiled. He looked so peaceful, a welcome contrast to a few hours earlier. She carefully lifted his arm so she could get up without waking him and went into the kitchen to make breakfast.

She was stirring scrambled eggs, flipping bacon, and toasting a bagel while the coffee brewed. Once everything was ready, she set all the bacon on one plate and poured two mugs of coffee. As she started to put the eggs on plates, Dean came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

He huffed. “You know, of all the mornings I would have rather not woken up alone…”

Setting the pan and spatula back on the stove, she spun around in his arms and then stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him. “I’m sorry.” Reaching up to run her fingers through his hair, she continued, “I didn’t expect you to wake up. I was planning on coming back to wake you with breakfast.”

He stole a piece of bacon and ate it. “You’re forgiven.” After a quick kiss on her forehead, he took the plate of bacon and one mug and headed back towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To wait for the rest of my breakfast in bed!” He disappeared from her sight as she laughed.

Quickly, she finished dishing up the eggs and placed them on a tray to bring into the bedroom.

“You know we could have just eaten at the table. You were already up.”

“And pass up the rare opportunity for breakfast in bed?” He scoffed. “No way.”

She set the tray down and situated herself beside him on the bed. He held up a piece of bacon for her, but before she could bite it, he pulled it away and ate it himself. They both fell into a fit of laughter as she pushed him back into the pillows. “So rude!”

“Sorry. Here, for you.” He lifted another piece towards her, but she didn’t move to take it from him.

Instead, she grabbed two pieces off the plate and shoved both in her mouth. While chewing she said, “You thought I was going to fall for that again?”

“Maybe.” He chuckled.

They ate in comfortable silence. When she was done eating, she slowly sipped her coffee. She swirled the dark liquid in the mug before she spoke. “You know, in all the times we have talked about that day, we have never talked about that part before last night.”

“I know.” He sighed. “You never brought it up, and I think I was trying to block it out.”

“Guess I’m lucky. I don’t remember it. There are all these stories about out-of-body experiences and your life flashing before your eyes. All I remember is you beside me in that ambulance and then waking up in the hospital. I feel like I should have realized how much it could have affected you, though.”

Dean shook his head. “No. There’s no reason you could have known that. That’s the first, and hopefully only, time I’ve had that nightmare.”

“There is one reason. It’s why you sometimes fall asleep with your fingers on my pulse like you do, right?”

He glanced down at his coffee mug and shrugged. “I can stop. If it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t.” She reached over to place her hand against his cheek, urging him to look at her. “It brings you some comfort. That could never bother me.”

He kissed her palm softly. “Remember that joke you made last night about ‘just another crappy day at the office’?”

“Yeah.” She dropped her hand back to her lap.

“You’re right. We have lost patients before. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d experienced it. But it has never felt like it did that day.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It's hard to explain, but it didn’t feel like just another patient we might lose. You didn’t feel like a stranger.” Dean looked at her for a moment before dropping his gaze to the bed. “‘Drop the patient at the hospital and never look back.’ It’s not really a rule, but it kind of is.”

She hummed. “Don’t get attached.”

He nodded. “I’ve never broken that rule. Except with you. I went to the hospital that night. I had to know, but you were in the ICU, and I wasn’t family so they wouldn’t tell me much.”

“Wow.” She smiled as she took his hand. “Why haven’t you ever told me that?”

He squeezed her hand. “Felt weird to mention at first. Then, eventually, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. There wasn’t really a time or even a reason to mention it.”

“Well, it’s sweet.” She chuckled. “And it’s nice to know it wasn’t just me.”

A mix of surprise and confusion flashed across his face.

“I didn’t remember much about the accident at first. But I vividly remembered you. You were the first person I thought of when I woke up, and I thought about you so much those two weeks in the hospital. I had actually considered taking a cab to the station before I was given the all-clear to drive.” She chuckled as she remembered walking into the fire station that first time. “I really did want to thank everyone that day at the station, but mostly, I wanted to see you again.”

“And now you’re stuck with me.” He pulled her towards him and smushed her in an awkward hug.

She laughed and pushed herself back just enough to be more comfortable. “Yeah. Who would have thought a near-fatal car crash could actually be one of the best things to ever happen to me?”

He shifted her so she was straddling his legs and hugged her tightly once again. “Can you just do me a favor and stay away from hospital beds for the rest of forever?”

She smirked mischievously. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of figured I’d visit one a few more times in the semi-near future.”

He pulled away to scowl at her.

“Are you saying you don’t want kids? I was thinking two or maybe three. But I plan to do that in a hospital.” He rolled his eyes as she continued. “Because if you're saying you don’t want kids, then I really might have to rethink this whole relationship.”

“You are a smart-ass.” He pulled her closer and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I would love to have kids with you someday. But that is the only reason you’re allowed near a hospital bed, deal?”

She made a show of thinking it over. “Fine, I will do my best. But with my luck, I’m not making you any promises.”

He grumbled. “You could just promise anyway.”

“Fine, if you want me to lie to you. I promise I will.” She rolled her eyes dramatically before climbing off him and off the bed.

“Thank you. Where are you going?”

“Put this in the kitchen,” she explained, grabbing the tray off the bed. She left the room, and he could hear her loading the dishes into the dishwasher before she reappeared in the doorway. “Do you wanna go for a drive today? We can take your Baby. Maybe have a picnic by the lake.”

Images of his nightmare flashed through his memory, and he shuddered. Beckoning her closer, he grabbed her arm to pull her down beside him. “Or we could just watch movies in bed all day.”

#supernatural #dean x reader #firefighter!dean #tell me a story bingo #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #hit and run #firefighter au #spn fanfic #my gif

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 5 months ago

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For @heavenssexiestangel ❤️❤️❤️

Title: Bedtime Routine

Pairing: Arthur Ketch/Dean Winchester/Gadreel

Other Character(s): Emma Winchester

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1094

Betaed by: Saudade

Warnings: Nudity

Tags: Alternate Universe- Humans, Modern, Professor Arthur Ketch, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Firefighter Gadreel, Dean Winchester is Emma Winchester’s parent, Husbands/Partners AU, polyamory, triad, Arthur Ketch is Emma Winchester’s Parent, Gadreel is Emma Winchester’s parent, kid Emma Winchester, Fluff, Domesticity, No Smut, Naked Arthur Ketch, Established Relationship, kid fic sort of, family fic, after dinner time, Cuddleslut Dean Winchester, bedtime routine

Summary: Nightly routine for the family

Ao3 Link

Gadreel is washing the few dishes by hand and then hands them to Arthur, who dries them off. He sets them on the drying rack to put away later. Gadreel begins to playfully shove Arthur. Arthur bites his lower lip and shoves back, just as playful. Gadreel grins and sticks his tongue out at him. Arthur raises a brow with a small smirk. Gadreel’s eyes widen and he quickly goes back to finishing washing the silverware. Arthur comes over, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses on the back of Gadreel’s neck with a scrape of his teeth. The man visibly trembles at the kisses and closes his eyes.

“Ketch,” warns Dean.

Arthur looks up, innocent eyes. “All done?”

“She’s all yours, Storyteller.”

Arthur places a chaste kiss on Gadreel’s cheek and meets Dean, handing him the hand towel. He leans and gives Dean a peck on the cheek. “Harry Potter, it is.”

“Have fun,” says Dean with a wink and smacks Arthur’s slacks-covered ass.

The Brit walks into a small bedroom that is very much princess- and fantasy-themed with unicorns, dragons, and fairy decorations.

“Hello, Princess,” Arthur greets.

The blonde-haired child in bed is in a matching Disney princess shirt and shorts, with a large book from the Harry Potter series.

“Hey, Papa,” Emma greets in return. “Will you do the voices?”

Arthur grins and sits down, taking the book in hand, and nods. “Of course, Love.” He looks for the bookmark. “Now, where were we?”

Back in the kitchen, Dean puts away the dishes while Gadreel walks to Emma’s room.

Before Gadreel knocks on the open doorway interrupting the story, he takes a few moments to watch Arthur read to Emma, doing different voices for each character. He remembers how Arthur was determined to have Emma like him when he came into their lives, and when he learned she loved being read to, he started trying to do voices. He has gotten really good but only does it for their little girl. Gadreel decides now to knock on the doorway.

The two look up. Gadreel stares into those matching green eyes and freckled face that screams she is Dean’s daughter. “Wanted to say goodnight to my girl.” Gadreel’s warm timbre echoes in his smile.

“Ree!” The seven-year-old squeals and reaches out towards him.

He walks around her bed and kneels on the floor, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You be good for your Papa, okay?”

“Ok, Ree.” She places a quick peck on Gadreel’s cheek before settling back into Arthur’s side.

“See you soon,” Gadreel promises to his partner as he walks back around the bed and places a kiss into his hair.

Arthur nods and picks up where he left off.

By the time Arthur notices Emma having fallen asleep against him, he realizes he lost track of time. He kisses Emma’s hair and slowly shifts to help his little girl get under the covers for a nice bout of sleep. He puts the book down next to her dragon lamp and turns off the light. He leaves her bedroom door open a few inches to act as a nightlight.

When he walks into his bedroom, he finds a topless Dean cuddled up with Gadreel in his usual undershirt and the comforter on their laps. The Grand Tour is playing on their large-screen TV.

The two pairs of eyes look at him expectantly as he pulls off his tie. He places it on the chest of drawers, and continues with unbuttoning his shirt.

“How are you doing, Professor?” inquires Dean with a pout.

Arthur’s eyes widen with his mouth slightly open, disbelieving that Dean is flirting with him.

“What?” Dean leans toward his partner with a smirk. “I can’t flirt with you, now?”

A flush begins to creep across Arthur’s cheeks. He can never get over Dean flirting with him and enjoys it. He slowly takes off his shirt—revealing his soft hairy chest with nice definition—and tosses the shirt in the hamper, only part of it making it in.

Gadreel’s eyes soften. “Arthur.” He places his fingers against the small smile on his lips.

“I know. I know. Thank you, Dean.”

“Did you just thank me for flirting with you?”

Arthur realizing Dean is correct. He closes his eyes and chuckles as he pulls his belt from his slacks. “Yes, Darling. I did.” He places his belt next to his tie, shaking his head. He looks at his partners, eyes dancing with happiness. “I need to shower,” Arthur advises with no segue.

Dean rolls his eyes and cuddles back in with Gadreel. “Ok.”

Arthur unbuttons and unzips his slacks, pushing them down until they fall to a puddle at his feet. His black boxer briefs don’t hide anything to the eye. He winks when he catches Dean’s green eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”

“You better be,” Dean grumbles.

Arthur saunters into the bathroom.

“I hate it when he does that.”

“You’re just upset that he teases before flirting back,” Gadreel accuses and kisses Dean’s temple.

Dean harrumphs and tries to watch the show, unsuccessfully. He’s craving Arthur’s touch, loves snuggling with his men.

About fifteen minutes later, Dean and Gadreel have shifted to the middle of the bed as they wait for Arthur. The man exits the steaming bathroom, naked as he rubs a towel into his hair.

Dean loves that Arthur sleeps naked; it means lots of potential for fun during the night and usually, there is.

Arthur hangs that towel back up in the bathroom and keeps the door open before returning to the room.

The two men scoot apart and Gadreel pats the space between them.

Arthur grins wide and goes to the foot of the bed, crawling up between the two men.

Dean is unable to wait and runs his hand down his partner’s back and hip as Arthur gets settled under the comforter. He grins back at Arthur and cuddles into his side; Arthur reaches out to allow Gadreel to do the same. The three men lay on their Asian king, four-post bed, and cuddle while finishing up the episode of The Grand Tour.

“Love you,” says Dean into Arthur’s shoulder.

“I love you, Dean, and you too, Gadreel,” Arthur replies.

“I love you too, Arthur.” Gadreel kisses Arthur’s cheek and snuggles in a bit more as his eyelids begin to feel heavy.

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profoundbondfanfic · 2 years ago

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Heart

Heart by Speary (@spearywritesstuff) Rating: Mature Word count: 90k

The heart is a funny thing. Some say it loves, and others say that it is just a muscle, keeping you alive for some minuscule amount of time. For Cas Shurley, the heart was a defective reminder that each day was maybe going to be his last. For years he had been in and out of hospitals. For years he had viewed time as something trickling down the drain. Then Sam Winchester died. He died, and Cas got to live. And in what universe was that fair? But he accepted the gift, and told himself that he would live. Each beat of Sam’s heart in his chest was an anthem, a siren song beckoning him back to life. This new heart though, wanted him to do more than just live. This heart had a story to tell. It would wake him up in the night, and visit him with cold drafts and a sense of purpose that would propel him out of bed. But before he could truly live and act on the demands of his new heart, he would have to get out of the hospital, and he would have to meet the Winchester family. And though he didn’t know it, he would especially have to meet Dean, Sam’s brother. And meeting him would remind him of just how much more there was to life than just the living.

That heart belonged to Sam Winchester.

And suddenly Castiel is thrust into the chaotic life of Dean Winchester, grieving brother and son who looks at him in a way no one else ever has. Castiel is drawn in. Their lives intertwine as their parents become friends, their friends become friends, and they even end up living in the same building. Cas’ life becomes unintentionally enmeshed in Dean’s, his world completely infiltrated by everything Dean.

But the one thing he doesn’t tell Dean, is the one thing that connects them the most profoundly. The cold spots that slip into Castiel’s bones, the automatic writing sessions that feel like something – someone – is taking over his body, the things he knows that he shouldn’t.

Castiel and Dean’s relationship comes to a climax at the same time the revelations Castiel has been seeing in his dreams start to come together with some terrifying consequences.

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professionalfangirlingblogger · 2 years ago

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His Charge

Summary: In his need to be closer to Dean, Cas appears as a human, replying to Dean's ad for a roommate. But can Cas ever escape heaven after breaking the rules by being so close to his charge?

---

Castiel doesn’t know why he wants to cuddle his charge in his bed right now, but he does. And he knows that it’s against the rules to interact with his charge as a guardian angel, but the rules never state that he can’t imagine. So, Castiel imagines holding his charge close, feeling his breath and heartbeat and placing gentle kisses all over. Castiel imagines stroking his charge’s hair, finally feeling whether it’s silky or coarse. Castiel imagines smelling him, knowing if he smells like car oil (that he’s frequently covered in) or leather (that his jacket is made of).

It’s this imagining that leads Castiel to actually break the rules just to be closer to his charge. He manifests as a human so that his charge may see him and Castiel follows him, still making sure that his charge doesn't notice. But this was too difficult to maintain the necessary distance, so when his charge put up an ad looking for a roommate, Castiel applied.

That’s how he finds himself at the door of his charge’s apartment, finally meeting him face to face for the first time. Castiel decides to knock as he’s seen his charge do several times when going to meet his brother Sam at college or when he visits his non-biological father Bobby.

His charge - no, it must be Dean now because he mustn't freak his charge out by calling him as such - opens the door with a shy smile and Castiel tries to smile back, but the movement seems foreign, something he rarely finds himself actually feeling like doing. But when he’s assaulted by the smell of both car oil and leather and when he sees his charge’s green eyes looking right into his own, Castiel feels so giddy that his face conforms. Which he supposes is the socially correct way to greet someone so that he seems friendly, so it works out in the end.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says and for some reason Dean’s eyes become slightly darker at the sound of his voice. He’s not sure if this is normal, but his eyes don’t become fully black, so he supposes that his charge is safe. So, Castiel outstretches his hand as he knows he is meant to in this situation as a means of greeting, keeping the smile on his face.

“You must be Cas,” Dean responds, his eyes now seeming to sparkle. Castiel finds they look quite pretty.

“Castiel,” he corrects, sure that his charge just made a mistake, but Castiel becomes confused when his char- Dean chuckles instead.

“Nah, man. Castiel is too much of a mouthful, so I’m calling you Cas,” Dean responds. And that was that. “Well, come in.”

Cas follows and feels completely at home around Dean. He’s so familiar with his charge’s presence that being able to be fully surrounded by everything that reminds him of his charge through all of his new senses almost overwhelms him, but it also feels like home.

Continue on AO3

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Stories like this are the reason why I wish Tumblr had a "favorites" feature like Ao3. SO damn good. 🥹🥹

Thanks @iprobablyshipit91 for recommending this to me! ❤️❤️ I was in the need of some firefighter!Dean.

Hold On, I’m Coming Masterlist

Series Summary: When a freak accident lands you in some trouble, the local fire department and a particularly handsome firefighter come to your rescue. Dean Winchester catches your eye immediately with his charm and kindness, but being Chief Singer’s daughter could cause some serious problems. You and Dean have a choice to make: defy your father’s wishes and face the consequences, or go your separate ways…

Author: @ravengirl94

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Reader

Warnings: (general, see each part for specific warnings) car accident, injury, stitches, blood, language, minor smut, house fire, mention of death

***My work is not to be posted on any other sites or duplicated in any way without my express written permission***

Part 1 - You’re in a serious car accident, and a certain firefighter Winchester comes to the rescue

Part 2 - You and Dean have your first date, with a few minor hiccups

Part 3 - You finally work up the courage to tell Bobby about Dean, with a little help from Jody. Later, Dean helps you find a new car and the two of you talk about your relationship.

Part 4 - Bobby confronts Dean at work. Later, you decide to fix things once and for all, but Dean thwarts your plan.

Part 5 - You and Dean are getting comfortable in your relationship, but Bobby isn’t giving up and causes problems for Dean at work. Later, a house fire lands Dean and Benny in some trouble.

Part 6 - You hear news of the fire and decide to take action. Dean, injured and trapped, fights for his life.

Part 7 - You, Sam, Benny and Cas struggle with the aftermath of the fire and Dean’s fall. Bobby finally confronts you about your relationship.

Part 8 - Dean is up and talking, but doesn’t remember much of what happened, and struggles with the consequences of his injuries.

Part 9 (Conclusion) - Dean struggles with his long recovery time, and you do your best to improve his spirits. Later, a panic attack has Bobby and Dean teaming up to help you.

#firefighter!dean #hold on i'm coming #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester au #supernatural au #dean winchester #sam winchester #benny lafitte #castiel #bobby singer #jody mills #rufus turner #jo harvelle #gadreel #fic rec #zepskies reads

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zepskies · 6 months ago

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Something Real

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean W. x F. Reader

Summary: Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

AN: And we’re back in the world of Smoke Eater! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to come back to these two for a while now, and this idea finally struck me. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Major fluff, angst, PTSD/mentions of sexual harassment (references to Smoke Eater Part 13), family feels, hurt/comfort, and smut.

Catch up on the SE-verse: ⤵️

🔥 Smoke Eater Masterlist

“Dean, are you okay?” you asked.

The man was white knuckling both armrests in his seat, taking pains to breathe in and out steadily. He nodded the slightest bit, humming to himself all the while. You bit your lip to hide your smile.

The plane had just taken off about ten minutes ago.

“Are you singing yourself a lullaby?” you asked.

“Metallica. Calms me down,” he replied.

This, from the man who storms burning buildings.

You couldn’t quite stifle your laugh, though you rubbed his arm. Somehow you managed to slip your hand into his, peeling it off the armrest.

“We’re almost up to altitude. You’re going to be just fine,” you told him.

It didn’t matter. The plane hit a bump of turbulence, which had him squeezing the shit out of your hand. You tried to brave through it for his sake, but eventually, you had to tap out.

“Babe, you’re gonna break my hand,” you hissed. With your free appendage, you squeezed his wrist to get his attention. Dean finally realized what he was doing to you, and he let you go.

“Sorry,” he said, his face contrite.

Your lips twitched. You leaned down to grab your purse and dig inside for your sunglasses. You handed them to him.

Dean glanced down at the brown Dolce & Gabbana shades with skepticism.

“I don’t need your girly sunglasses, thanks,” he said.

“Trust me,” you said. “It’ll help block out some light, so you can close your eyes and try to take a nap.”

“The only way I’m sleeping on this tin can is if you knock me the hell out,” Dean said, matter-of-fact. “Ask Sam if he’s got any Ambien.”

You glanced across the aisle and shared a wry look with Sam and Eileen. Sam shook his head, despite the knowing smile on his face. You turned back to Dean.

“No, not Ambien. Andréa sleepwalks when she takes that shit,” you said. You guided his head toward you so that he rested on your shoulder. You stroked his cheek. “Just relax.”

Dean let out a long, unsteady breath, but he tried to follow your lead. He took your hand again, not in a crushing way this time. He turned it over and admired the shining ring on your finger. The diamond on it was modest, but charming and unique in its setting.

“Hmm, who got you that rock?” he asked. His tone was teasing, making you smile.

“The smokin’ hot guy I’m living with,” you replied. “He finally decided to make a move.”

Dean hummed again, raising his brows.

“Good-looking, smart, and decisive. This guy sounds awesome,” he said.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“Mhmm, a sexy firefighter. And he’s a Captain now, so I guess that’ll make me his trophy wife,” you teased back. Dean’s shoulders shook with the effort of keeping his laughter quiet. Your smile deepened.

“But he saves lives too…including mine,” you added. “So I guess I can’t complain.”

Dean raised off your shoulder then, just to look at you with a softer smile of his own.

“Well, a pretty girl like you? He’d probably say he got really, really lucky.”

His lips closed in on yours, and you allowed him to draw you into a languid kiss while he laced his fingers with yours. His thumb brushed the engagement ring he gave you, just two weeks ago. His mother’s ring.

It’s the best gift you’ve ever been given.

Oh, hell yes, you thought, when you opened the door to the hotel room. It was beautiful. Stunning really, with a king-sized bed and a view of an enormous pool.

Dean was busy hefting his suitcase and one of your carry-on bags. He whistled in amazement when he saw the room.

“Damn, Sam sure knows how to find a quality Groupon.”

But he struggled to get in the door with all the luggage he was carrying. You held the door open for him.

“Careful with that one,” you said, pointing to your bag that kept knocking between his hip and the door as he shoved through.

“Why’s this thing so heavy? Did you bring Kansas with you? Goddamn,” he grumbled. He was all too happy to dump your bag on the bed.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. You parked your own suitcase on the side by the window. You already knew Dean was going to claim the side closest to the door.

“That bag is just makeup, skincare, and hair products,” you informed him, hefting your bigger suitcase onto the bed. “This is for clothes and shoes.”

Dean shook his head in bemusement. “You’re friggin’ crazy, woman.”

“I need options!” you said defensively. “I didn’t know for sure what I was going to want to wear on this trip. I haven’t been on vacation since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?” he asked while unzipping his own suitcase.

“Disneyland with my grandparents, which was awesome. But I was like, eight at the time,” you said.

They were fond memories, even though no one was left to remember them but you. Still, you tried not to let that bittersweetness dim your good mood.

It was still hard to talk about your grandparents at times, especially because the loss of your grandfather was still so fresh. You didn’t feel like you had enough time to properly mourn him, thanks to everything else that was going on then. (Namely Nick and Daniel Savage, and everything in between.)

Getting over that time was getting easier though, as the months wore on. Sometimes it was hard to believe you’d been with Dean for almost a year. And yet, it felt like so much longer. Like you’d lived half a life with him already.

You went over to look out the window and held your hands on your hips. It was nighttime, but the streets of Miami, Florida were well-lit beyond the pool, and there was something beautiful about a bustling city at night.

“Now this is an adult vacation,” you said.

At that, Dean smiled and walked around the bed to you. He slipped his arms around your waist and held you from behind. You held him right back.

“Damn right it is,” he said. “What do you wanna do first? Dinner, and then check out some nightlife, or skip right to dessert?”

You smiled at the way his voice lowered with thinly veiled suggestiveness.

“Well, I know how much you love dessert,” you said slyly.

Dean’s smile deepened into a smirk.

“Yeah, that may be,” he said. “But don’t pretend you don’t love some hot lemon drizzle.”

You spluttered a laugh, beginning to blush at his hefty double meaning. He cradled your cheek and bowed his head, so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. You made a sound of surprise, but you soon melted against him.

Already this was worth the several-hour plane ride of Dean bouncing his leg and steeling your iPad so he could distract himself. After the year you both had, all you wanted to do was spend the next few days with no responsibilities, no drama or worries—just your fiancé and your soon-to-be brother and sister-in-law…

Your newfound family.

The night was spent at a nice Cuban restaurant in Miami Beach. Afterwards, you, Dean, Sam, and Eileen explored the boardwalk, and later the downtown Bayside area where a number of shops and kiosks were bustling with life. This was technically Sam and Eileen’s bachelor and bachelorette trip, so you all weren’t wasting any time to explore and see the city.

By the end of the night, you only had enough energy to shower and hit the bed face-first. Dean was actually on board with that, as he was the first one to start snoring on his side of the bed.

The next day though, you felt rested and ready to chill by the pool. Miami Beach itself was a bit too crowded for your tastes, and the others agreed that hanging out at the hotel for a while would be more relaxing after all the travel the day before.

However, when you looked at yourself in one of the two-piece swimsuits you bought specifically for this trip, you couldn’t help but feel…self-conscious. The bikini and bottoms weren’t scandalous, really. You’d seen a lot of thongs, beads, and G-strings already on this trip.

It was just…you were a bit wary of showing this much skin in public.

You didn’t want to think about the reasons behind your unease, however, so you tried to push it out of your mind for now. You put on a long sundress over your swimsuit and finished up your makeup.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“You done in there, your majesty? I’m getting hungry,” Dean said through the door.

“One more minute. Doing my lipstick,” you replied. “You know we can order lunch by the pool, right?”

“Yeah, if we ever get there,” he said. You were amused when he opened the door. He was already dressed in a loose shirt and board shorts. His eyes swept over your white sundress and red lipstick, and he smiled.

“Lookin’ good, baby,” he said. Though he raised his brows and met your gaze in the mirror. “So can we go?”

You had to laugh.

“I guess we better, before your stomach eats itself,” you quipped.

You lightly smacked the back of your hand against said stomach before you slid past him out the door.

You and Dean ventured downstairs and out back to the pool, where Sam and Eileen had already saved a few deck chairs. While Sam and Dean went to order some food and cocktails, you started pulling out the sunscreen and towels from your beach bag.

“Eileen, you need some sunscreen?” you asked. Your friend was already taking off her shirt and little shorts, revealing a cute violet bikini and bottoms underneath. Her brown hair was loose around her shoulders. She shook her head at your question with a smile.

“No, I’m good. Wanna go in?” she asked, and signed, before she pointed over to the pool.

There were already a couple of families in there with their kids splashing around by the shallow end. That didn’t bother you. It was more the men of various ages milling about, either in the pool, flirting with girls, or by the tiki bar, drinking and likely waiting for opportunities.

You tugged the V-shaped collar of your sundress closer together.

“Not just yet. I think I’ll have something to eat first, try to tan a bit,” you said.

Eileen gave an “OK” sign and headed for the pool.

You shucked your sandals and moved your chair under a large umbrella, but you still had to fan yourself. It was hot as hell, and your dress had long, billowy sleeves.

Sam and Dean eventually returned with some drinks.

“Food’s gonna take a bit, so we probably have time for a dip,” Dean said, handing you a piña colada. He noticed you wiping sweat from your brow.

“Come on, you can cool off in the water,” he said.

You waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m good here for a while. Think I’ll work on my tan.”

Dean rose a brow and gestured at you with a hand.

“You’re gonna do that in the shade, dressed to the ankles?” he asked.

He made a good point, to which you didn’t have a good answer. You sipped at your sweet drink and hummed at the rummy, coconutty taste.

Dean could see there was something off with you, though.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I guess I just don’t feel like swimming, that’s all.”

Dean quirked a brow. You bought three different swimsuits for this trip, but you didn’t want to swim? He pulled his deck chair closer and sat on the edge of it beside you.

One thing he’d come to know about you. When something was bothering you, you didn’t always want to tell him right away. Often when it was something you felt embarrassed about.

He nudged your thigh playfully. “Tell me you’re not gonna make me third wheel the married couple.”

You smiled. “They’re not married yet.”

Three months wasn’t a long time though. You were going to be the Maid of Honor, with Dean, of course, as the Best Man.

“Semantics,” Dean shrugged. He slipped a hand over your knee and squeezed. “Come on. Talk to me.”

After a moment in which you held his gaze, you sighed. You beckoned him closer. Dean leaned over so you could brace a hand on his shoulder and speak close to his ear.

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I just, um…after everything that happened last year, especially before Christmas, I just don’t feel comfortable showing so much skin,” you said. “I don’t want to…attract attention.”

Surprise hit Dean first. He pulled away and frowned at you. But then, his face soon dimmed with grim understanding.

Christmas. In other words, a Christmas party at your old job that had taken a turn for the worst.

Dean knew you had to be talking about Nick Savage.

That bastard was dead and gone, and still, the way he’d sexually harassed you for months was still affecting you, months later. Dean let out a heavy breath through his nose. He reached up to cup your cheek. Your eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I knew what I was signing up for when we started planning a beach vacation. I guess it just didn’t really hit me until now.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “But you know I’m gonna be with you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

You nodded; you knew he would protect you in any circumstance, but it didn’t stop men from looking when they had the chance. You just didn’t feel totally comfortable with that kind of attention.

Sensing he hadn’t convinced you, Dean tried to think of a solution.

Then, he had it. He held a finger up in the air. “Ah, here.”

He pulled off his shirt by the back of his neck. You watched him in curiosity.

“This’ll cover you up. You can go ahead and jump in the pool with this,” he said, handing you the shirt.

Your brows knit together. “But you won’t be able to wear this later. It’ll be all wet.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “It’s hot as hell out here. And we’ll just be going back up to the hotel room anyway.”

You bit your lip. He made a good point. You were probably going to look weird jumping in the pool with a whole long-ass shirt on, but at least you’d be covered. His shirts tended to reach down to your thighs, where a pair of shorts might cut off.

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You stroked his scruffy cheek.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He nodded with a smile. “Just call me the Problem Solver. No, the Solution.”

You smirked and twined your arms around his neck.

“I prefer Captain,” you said.

Dean’s smile deepened. “You really like that, huh?”

“I really do,” you replied cheekily.

After one more sweet kiss, you asked him to stand in front of you while you took off your long sundress and changed into his shirt over your swimsuit. Afterward, he pulled you in by your waist and spoke close to your ear.

“I like seeing you in my shirt anyway,” he said. You smiled and playfully shoved his arm.

You accepted his lingering hand on your lower back and followed him to the pool. You felt a bit awkward wearing a shirt that billowed in the water when you stepped in, but you decided to ignore the feeling and just try to enjoy being on vacation with your family.

Sam and Eileen welcomed you and Dean over. Eileen did question your state of dress with her eyes, but when you leaned over and explained in her ear, her eyes widened, and she understood. She gave you a look of sympathy and rubbed your arm.

You sighed, but again, you tried to let it go.

You two chatted for a while after claiming a corner of the pool, also watching Sam and Dean swim competitive laps back and forth.

You were engrossed in your conversation with Eileen about her new group of students, when Dean came up from under the water to splash you both. You shrieked with a laugh as you fended off the onslaught, but he hauled you into his arms.

Sam wisely pulled a laughing Eileen out of the orbit. Together they split off for some canoodling, and once he was done playfully trying to dunk you, you were happy to wrap your arms around Dean’s shoulders and float with him in the water.

Dean made way for a couple of kids as they splashed by. A younger girl and an older boy chased each other while swimming with little floaties on their arms. Their parents were keeping a watchful eye on them nearby. Dean smiled and laid a kiss just under your ear.

“That could be us pretty soon,” he said.

“Yeah? How soon are you thinking?” you said in bemusement.

“Hmm. How about next year?” he said, more serious than you expected him to be. You raised your brows at him.

“Dean, we’re not even getting married until next year,” you pointed out. He shrugged and held you a bit tighter. You felt his fingers drifting up and down your bare thigh.

“So we’ll get a head start on the family thing,” he said, grinning.

You couldn’t help but dim at that. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you also felt you had to inject some reality here. You turned in his arms so that you could face him.

“Babe, I just started my catering business. If I get pregnant, at some point I’ll have to take time off, put everything on pause,” you reasoned. “And…I’m not making the same money I was before.”

At that, Dean began to frown. “I make decent money.”

You nodded, smoothing a hand down his arm.

“Yes, you do,” you agreed.

Aside from his usual hours at the firehouse, Dean had earned his mechanic’s certification a few months ago. So he’d started a side job at Bobby’s salvage yard. He was slowly but surely turning it into a more profitable mechanic’s shop, with Bobby’s blessing.

“But, I think having a baby is going to be a little more expensive than you realize,” you said. “I just want to be more stable with my business before we start a family.”

Dean was quiet for a beat.

“How long then?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…a few years or so,” you said. Dean’s face fell further, though he tried not to show the true depths of his disappointment.

“Okay, well uh…” He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was an anxious tick of his, you knew. “I guess we’ll talk about it later.”

The conversation settled with putting an implied “pin in it,” but an invisible thread of strain formed between you and Dean for the rest of the afternoon.

Hours later, you and Eileen broke off together to go shopping. You both were trying on clothes at a nearby mall, since she was toying with the idea of wearing something new for dinner tonight. She stepped out of the fitting room to show you a white form-fitting dress that slipped over her curves nicely.

“Oooh, that’s beautiful,” you said, with a little clap of your hands. “And oh! Thinking ahead, you could wear that for the wedding reception too, if you don’t want to deal with the whole wedding dress after the ceremony.”

You knew that her dress had a lot of tulle under the skirt, which might make it difficult to dance in. Eileen gave that idea some consideration, though something occurred to her with a certain smile.

“Well, this dress might not fit so well by then,” she said.

Your brows knitted together. “What? What do you mean?”

Eileen paused for a moment, but she seemed to come to a decision in her mind. She smiled and beckoned you over. You went to her, and she led you to a nearby chaise in the dressing room.

That was where she whispered the news that she was six weeks pregnant.

Your resulting squeal of excitement startled all the other women in the dressing room, including the store’s attendant. You covered your mouth with an embarrassed wave, but you turned back to Eileen and took her hands in yours.

“We were gonna tell you and Dean tonight at dinner,” Eileen said with a laugh. “We found out right before the trip.”

Huh. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember her drinking even one cocktail on this trip so far.

“Oh my God, I’m just…” you trailed, as emotion surged in your heart and made your eyes all misty. “I’m so happy for you.”

Eileen laughed and pulled you into a hug.

She explained to you that when she first told Sam on a Tuesday morning before work, he’d fallen into a haze of shock, to a point where it had kind of worried her. But then she showed you a picture on her phone of the first thing Sam bought when he got home that day: the tiniest pair of blue booties.

You laughed again, and cried again. So tiny…

“Of course he assumes it’s a boy, but we’ll see,” Eileen said, with a roll of her eyes. Her soft smile was telling though.

“How do you feel?” you asked, wiping under your eyes.

She paused at the question. She tilted her head, and she raised her gaze to meet yours.

“I’m happy,” she said. “Really happy.”

It was your turn to give her a big hug. And your tears fell anew as you came to another realization.

As usual, Dean was ready for dinner before you. He sat on the edge of the bed while putting on his watch. It was his father’s watch, which John gifted to him for his birthday. Though it had actually belonged to John’s father, Henry.

Dean blew out a breath. Despite his attempts to try and just have a good time tonight (Sam’s advice), he couldn’t forget his conversation with you earlier today in the pool. He didn’t want to move too fast for you, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he was still fighting his disappointment, and maybe some melancholy.

Just lock it up, asshole, he told himself.

When you were done putting on the finishing touches on your makeup in the bathroom, you came out and stepped into his line of vision.

“What do you think?” you asked.

Dean’s head lifted, and his eyes widened. You were a sexy sight in black. The dress stopped at mid-thigh, paired with some of the tallest heels he’s seen you wear since his very first date with you.

“Damn,” he said lowly.

You smiled and stepped forward, not stopping until you were standing between his long legs. You took his face in your hands and gave a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean breathed into it, and even needed a bit of a moment to recover when you pulled away.

“Hey, about what we talked about today—” you started. He cleared his throat, raising a hand.

“It’s okay. You’re probably right about all that. The timing’s not right,” he said.

You brushed your thumbs against his cheeks. “But that’s just it…maybe we don’t have to wait so long to start a family.”

Dean perked up, giving you a questioning look. You set your hands on his shoulders. He grasped your hips, almost on reflex.

“Maybe when we get home, we crunch some numbers and figure out how we can do this,” you said.

He shook his head with a frown. “I don’t want you to lose steam on your business. You’ve waited a long time to make that happen.”

You sighed. He was sweet for that, but you’d thought about that too.

“Like I said, we can figure out how to make it work. No matter what job I have, having kids was always our plan.” A smile raised the corners of your lips. “And you know, we have so many people in our lives that’ll want to help us, even if it means we have to work a bit harder.”

Dean’s eyes started to brighten, but he didn’t want to hope too hard.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me what I want to hear,” he said.

“I’m serious, Dean. I wouldn’t play about this,” you said, squeezing his shoulders. “This is worth it, and I want this with you.”

He started to soften then, and even smile. He got to his feet and wrapped you up in his arms. He held you close, pressing another kiss to the side of your head.

“What changed your mind?” he asked. You bit your lip on a smile.

“Well, if I tell you, you have to promise to act surprised when you hear it later.”

Dean’s brows shot up. “Okay. Color me intrigued.”

You leaned up to his ear and said, “Eileen’s already pregnant.”

And your man full-on malfunctioned. He held you tighter, more to brace himself.

“Holy shit! For real?” he asked. You laughed and nodded.

“Looks like they got a head start on the wedding,” you said.

“I’ll fucking say,” Dean replied, but his grin was so wide, it made you smile harder.

“They didn’t plan for it, but they’re going to make it work,” you said. “It made me realize…we can do the same thing. Just with a bit more planning.”

Dean laughed at that. He knew your anal brain all too well, but in this, he could understand. His hands moved down your lower back.

“Well, you know how we can get ahead of the game?” he said. You knew what he was suggesting with only his eyes, and his meaningful touch.

You would’ve loved to take him up on that, but you glanced pointedly at the digital clock on the nightstand.

“Sam and Eileen are probably waiting for us downstairs,” you said.

Dean sighed, rather dramatically in your opinion. He still bent down to kiss your neck, nipping a bit hard just under your ear. It made you jolt with a surprised yelp.

“We’re not done here,” he said. The depths of his voice made you shiver, but you smiled.

“I’m counting on it.”

You all got back from dinner late, after much celebrating for Sam and Elieen’s news. Dean even bought a bottle of champagne, which poor Eileen couldn’t partake in. (He ordered her a large piece of chocolate cake to make up for it.)

You and Dean returned to the hotel room, but tonight, thoughts of sleep were still far from your mind. You sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off your heels, followed by taking off your earrings. You also watched Dean remove his watch and undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the bathroom mirror.

He spied you watching him, and his lips quirked up at the corners.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” he asked in amusement.

Instead of answering him, you stood up and made your way over to him. You hugged him from behind.

“I really needed this,” you confessed. “Getting away from home for a while…I’m reminded that everything I need is right here.”

Dean turned in your arms and pulled you in close. He gave you a slow kiss that simmered with heat.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. He caught sight of your bikini and his swim trunks dry on a bathroom rail, and a smile grew on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We’re so not allowed to do this,” you giggled quietly.

The pool and the surrounding cabanas were empty. Not only was it very late, but the pool was supposed to be closed. However, it did allow you to feel comfortable in taking off your sundress, remaining just in the vibrant green bikini you were wearing earlier today. Dean took you by the hand, and the two of you tried to keep quiet while stepping into the pool.

“Oh, God, it’s freezing,” you whisper-laughed. Dean’s jaw locked, but he was also smiling, trying not to shiver.

“Aw, shit!” he said, when the water got past his waist, hitting his more sensitive areas. “Why’s it so damn cold?”

You moved closer to him and slipped your arms around his middle, trying to steal his body heat. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

“I guess they count on the sun to warm it up,” you replied. “We are in the Sunshine State after all.”

“Know it all,” Dean playfully groused. “I’m freezing my tits off.”

You saw the goosebumps that had broken out across his arms, and yours too. You smirked and teased one of his hardened nips with your fingers.

“Yeah, you are,” you agreed. He laughed and looked down at your bikini top, raising his brows at the stiff peaks.

“So are you,” he said. If you two stayed in here much longer, his nads were going to pay the price. “Maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head and hugging him tighter. “Definitely one of your best. But maybe let’s hop in that jacuzzi over there.”

Dean twisted his head in the direction you were pointing, and sure enough, there was a nice hot tub a few yards from the pool. You both left the pool and braced the cool air on your skin long enough to run to the jacuzzi, quietly laughing all the while.

Dean turned the dial on the heat and cranked up the bubbling, and soon you two were able to relax together in the much warmer water. He held you to his chest, his fingers dragging up and down your arm, while you just took in some deep, relaxing breaths. You let go of every bit of stress that might’ve still been clinging to your psyche.

A few minutes in, you turned your head to press a sweet kiss under his jaw. His wet scruff prickled against your lips, but you didn’t mind.

“Ever think about letting this enter beard territory?” you asked.

“Eh,” Dean shrugged, still rubbing some warmth back into your arm. “Not really my look.”

“It could be,” you said. A smile curved your lips. You turned in his arms to straddle his lap, where you got the leverage to cup his face. You gently scratched your nails along his stubbly cheeks.

He raised a brow. “You want me to go full lumberjack, don’t you?”

“Maybe not full lumberjack,” you teased. “I’d settle for quarter-lumberjack.”

Dean chuckled loud enough that you had to shush him, with your mouth covering his. His heavy hands spanned your lower back as you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. His hands lowered to grip your ass, encouraging you to grind down on him. You were more than willing to oblige him.

Even with the light of the moon, a large palm tree covered the jacuzzi in some shade. It made the empty courtyard feel a little more secluded. You felt just secure enough with him here to reach down below the water. You slipped your hand under the waistband of his shorts, where you began to stroke his hardening length to full mast.

He groaned into your mouth and squeezed your hips on reflex.

“Better be careful, baby. You’re playing with fire right now,” he said gruffly. He had no compunctions about finishing what you’d started, right here and now.

You smirked, but you did pull your hand out of his shorts and took his hand instead.

“Come on,” you whispered.

When you and Dean made it back to the hotel room, it was a quick stop to the bathroom.

He guided you back against the tile wall in the shower and stole your breath with a hard kiss. His hand flew to the shower knob and turned on the water.

Luckily this shower had a ledge for shampoo bottles and soap. You knocked all of that shit over when you hiked your foot up on it. You raked your nails through his hair and left his lips, just to suck harder on his neck.

In turn, Dean untied your bikini with a practiced hand and let it drop with a wet thwap on the floor. He kneaded your breasts and rolled his thumbs over hardened nipples. He actually rubbed some warmth back into your skin as his hands migrated down your body. And he helped you shimmy out of the bikini bottoms, just as you helped him with the shorts.

He took a healthy grip of your bare ass and again ground you against him, making you smile against his neck. But his fingers slipping between your legs disrupted your train of thought entirely. You felt his fingertips at your entrance, probing your depths, just testing the waters first. You gave a needy hum and clung to his arms.

He chuckled near your ear. “Already soaked, huh?”

“You didn’t exactly play fair,” you said, panting for breath. He hadn’t stopped touching you all the way from the jacuzzi to the elevator. You hadn’t even completely dried yourselves, leaving a trail of water from the scene of the crime, all the way up to the third floor where your room was.

Dean earned a wanton moan from you when his fingers roughly massaged your clit. Your head pressed back against the tile wall, your hands clasping on his shoulders tight as a shudder of pleasure rippled through your body. He stroked you right to the edge of pleasure, until he could start to feel you tighten on him. Then he withdrew his hand.

You whined at the empty feeling, giving him a look of annoyance. “Dean?”

“Patience,” he smirked. He used your wetness on his fingers to stroke himself back to painfully hard.

You scoffed at his words. This man didn’t often have a patient bone in his body.

But once he was ready for you, he took advantage of the way you’d hiked up your leg, and he held you open while he positioned himself at your entrance. He took your hand and moved it down to replace his fingers on your clit.

“Keep touchin’ yourself,” he ordered. His voice became laced with both grit and desire. You followed his directions and kept circling your fingers around that sensitive bundle of nerves, even though it forced a keening moan from your throat when he pressed his cock inside you.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he muttered. Your inner walls were squeezing on him tightly, like you were already halfway there. Dean aimed to catch up with you as he grabbed your hips and set an almost punishing pace. He wrapped your thigh around his hip so he could get an even deeper angle to his thrusts. He grabbed onto the shower head when he felt his foot slipping a bit in the tub.

You hung onto him by the back of his neck as the coil in your lower belly became dangerously tight. “Oh, fuck. Dean…”

He knew you were close. He could feel it. He replaced your fingers with his own over your clit, searching for the spot he knew always made you come undone.

And he knew when he found it—you cried out at the warm pulsing in your core as it quivered around him.

“Let go, baby,” he said roughly in your ear. He gave you a few more hard thrusts, both to draw out your orgasm and to finally reach his own. His balls clenched and a ragged groan escaped him, along with his release coating your walls.

By now, the hot water from the shower head had turned lukewarm, but neither of you really cared, blinking drops of the spray out of your eyes as you each caught your breath. Dean brushed your wet hair away from your neck. You smiled, and you guided him by his cheek, back to your lips for a softer kiss.

“‘S a damn shame you’re still on the pill,” he remarked.

You blinked in response. When his words finally registered, you burst out laughing. You pressed your forehead against his. Jesus, did this man have baby fever.

“Let’s just get married first. Then we’ll work on it, I promise,” you told him. “Besides, we don’t want to steal your brother’s thunder.”

Dean grimaced and made a sound of disgust.

“For fuck’s sake, you mind not mentioning my brother at a time like this?” he said.

To be fair, he was still deep inside you. He slipped himself out and let the shower head begin to wash away the remnants.

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and drew him back in for another kiss.

Despite himself, Dean couldn’t help but smile against your lips. His left hand twined with yours, where your ring glistened under the florescent light.

A year ago, he never thought he would be here. A year ago, he didn’t plan any further than tonight, and how he was going to get back to his life tomorrow.

A year ago, while he did have his brother…Dean still felt alone.

Now, he had something real. He was on the cusp of sharing the rest of his life with someone who understood him, supported him, loved him, despite the demands of his job.

Now, he had an actual future to build with you.

And he was more than ready to get started.

AN: I so hope you guys enjoyed this addition to the SE-verse. Let me know what you think! 😘❤️‍🔥

Want to read this in podfic form? (Note: A "podcast" fic is a narrated version by my lovely friend Sandra, one of the hosts of the Idling in the Impala SPN podcast.)

🎙️ Listen to the episode by clicking the thumbnail below:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Smoke Eater Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found

@thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @anticxrrupt

@lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

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destieltropecollection · 6 months ago

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 27: Single Parent AU

Lavender Fireflies | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 28,573 Main Tags/Warnings: modern setting, summer camp, single parents, strangers to lovers, two-person love triangle, mutual pining, misunderstandings, bottom!dean, fluff, light angst with a happy ending Summary: Lavender Fireflies Camp is possibly Castiel’s final chance to mend his troubled relationship with his daughter. After an ugly divorce and a nine-to-five job that only further distanced him from Claire, his sister — Anna — suggests spending two weeks camping with Claire. Castiel sees this as his opportunity to bring his daughter closer to him. He had not anticipated meeting a charming firefighter, Dean, on the first day and becoming instantly enchanted by him. Still, Castiel can’t help but feel disappointed when Dean seems to change his mind about them. Usually, the hippy, kumbaya shit that Sammy digs so much is a hard pass for Dean. But coming to Lavender Fireflies Camp wins big brownie points for allowing him to spend time with his brother and his daughter Emma. The last thing Dean expects to happen is to find sex on a stick and everything his dreams are made of in the guy with messy dark hair and blue-as-fuck eyes he meets there. Dean is immediately smitten. Too bad that being a jump-the-gun kinda guy, the first thing Dean assumes is that the redhead camping with Cas is his wife. Then he makes everything a fuckton more complicated for everyone, y’know, Winchester style.

The Single Dad's Guide to Dating a Spy | @friendofcarlotta Rating: Explicit Word Count: 29,534 Main Tags/Warnings: Kid Fic, Single Parent Castiel, Government Agent Dean Winchester, Telemarketer Castiel, Accountant Castiel, Castiel is Claire Novak's Parent, Romantic Comedy, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Light Dom/sub Undertones Summary: Single father Castiel Novak feels stuck in his dead-end job and the mindless routine of parenting. Everything changes when an early-morning grocery run throws him into the path of Dean Winchester, a government agent whose mission is tangled up with — of all things — Castiel’s dating history.

The Waltz of Shilly-Shallying | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: Explicit Word Count: 36,395 Main Tags/Warnings: Veterinarian and Pet Groomer AU, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Single Dad Castiel, Miscommunications, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers Summary: Pet groomer Dean Winchester has had a crush on Castiel Novak, his veterinarian friend, for quite some time now. He’s kindhearted, handsome and a devoted single father to his young, adorable—and quirky—son, Jack. But after a few hints from Dean, the feeling doesn’t appear to be mutual. As for Castiel, Dean has been occupying his thoughts more and more since the summer. Fearing to complicate their friendship, however, Castiel figures it is best for him to put these ideas out of his head, focus on his son (and his very opinionated imaginary friend, Belphegor) and simply remain friends with Dean. That is until they find themselves under the mistletoe.

Reaching Haven | @deanabean Rating: Mature Word Count: 58,044 Main Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Castiel & Jack Kline & Claire Novak, Castiel & Michael & Adam Milligan, Castiel & Kelly Kline (Supernatural), Michael/Adam Milligan, Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Single Parent Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel & Kelly Kline Friendship (Supernatural), Castiel Is Jack Kline & And Claire Novak's Parent, Queerplatonic Relationships, Married Michael/Adam Milligan, Castiel & Adam Milligan Friendship, Castiel & Claire Novak are Siblings, Toddler Jack Kline, Claire Novak is a pre-teen, Castiel is a Novak (Supernatural), Queer Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Human, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, F Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Kid Fic, Past Lydia (Supernatural: Slice Girls)/Dean Winchester Summary: “What?” “You know you’re a terrible liar, kiddo.” He isn't… Or at least he hasn’t been. Castiel has always known how to maintain a lie, even against himself. But right at this moment, he isn't lying. He’s not even attempting to lie. He truly feels fine. mostly. He tells them just that. “I really am, though. I'm fine. I’m–” Even better. He even feels— “‘m great.” Or; Single parent Castiel struggling to navigate; raising both his baby son, Jack. His now orphaned 13-year-old baby sister, Claire. While attempting to side-step his distant yet controlling and manipulative grandparents. All that is on top of moving to a new city he doesn't know anybody there except his Uncle Michael, a man he rarely was in contact with. While dealing with the crushing grief. Most of all, Castiel is trying to keep his head above water.

Transfered To You | Joysprings (AO3) Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 69,989 Main Tags/Warnings: Single Parent Dean Winchester, Meet Cute, Grief, Light Angst, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Tattoo Artist Castiel, Artist Castiel, Emma Winchester, Found Family, Cas Is A Cat Dad, Dadstiel, Homophobia, Homophobic language, Summary: Single dad Dean Winchester Works at Singers Auto. There just so happens to be another shop called Singers in the area. Sure one of them is a Mechanics while the other is Tattoo's and Piercing, but apparently people still fuck up and call the wrong Singer's on a daily basis. Dean usually isn't in charge of phones at the auto shop but ends up having to transfer a call, thus meeting Castiel Shurley. He hasn't wanted to date since the death of his wife but that may be about to change.

Nuclear’s Not The Only Option | @three-cake-sandwich Rating: Mature Word Count: 221,462 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternative universe - human, alternative universe - small town, domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, kid Sam Winchester, kid Jack Kline, kid fic, Christian Castiel, autistic Castiel, autistic Jack Kline, non verbal Jack Kline, domestic fluff, homophobic language, atheist Dean Winchester, slow burn, implied/referenced sex, explicit language, American Sign Language, found family, friends to lovers, past abuse, grief/mourning, porn watching, non explicit sex, hurt/comfort, humor, religious fanaticism, Castiel is Jack Kline’s parent Summary: When Dean's parents die unexpectedly, he is forced to leave behind his playboy life in California to look after his little brother in The Middle of Nowhere, Kansas. While juggling new parenthood and nosey neighbors with judging glares, he meets an anti-social man with a mysterious past that he can't help but feel drawn to. Can the two of them overcome the small-town gossip and live happily ever after or will long-buried secrets tear them apart?

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #single parent au

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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