#hotel britannia | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dianawinchester03 · 18 days ago

Text

Season 2, Episode 20 - What Is And What Should Never Be (Part Two)

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: Part Two!!! If you haven’t read part one yet, go here. You’ll need to read it to understand this and the series. Hope everyone likes!❤️

_______________________________________________

Y/N had gone to work and Dean was lounging in their living room, finishing off Y/N’s beer as he flipped through channels on the TV set. Dean let out a content, “Ahhh” as he clicked the remote, landing on a news station. “And today marks the anniversary of the crash of United Britannia Flight 424” The newscaster said.

Dean’s heart dropped, his eyes widening as he leaned forward, instantly recognizing the flight by name. “Indianapolis residents held a candlelight vigil in memory of the victims” Dean could feel his fear growing, “No no no. We stopped that crash” His mind going back to that day they had to exorcise a demon on a plane.

Dean was now in front of Y/N’s laptop, running his hand over his face as he stared, eyewide at the headline on the article. ‘Flight 424 Crashes. 108 dead’ the headline read. He began skimming the internet for all their previous hunts within the past two years, the words ‘nine children comatose’, ‘parents mutilated’, ‘girl drowns in hotel pool’ rang through his head.

Dean felt sick to his stomach as he read about all the people they saved over the years were now gone, as if all what they did was for nothing. This reality was too much for him, he desperately wanted a normal life but seeing this…it didn't sit right with him.

At the corner of his eye, Dean saw the figure of a woman drift in the hallway. His eyes snapped up to see no one there, he knew it couldn't be Y/N. He knows her figure like the back of his hand, so immediately he got up and rushed into the room. The seemingly empty room.

Dean heard something move in the closet, his head snapping in the direction. He attempted to reach for his gun he keeps in the back of his jeans, only to pat air. Forgetting that he's a civilian and not a hunter. The instinct came naturally. Dean then swiftly opened the door to see the skeletal remains of a man and a woman, hanging by their wrists from the ceiling.

Dean stared at it in shock and fear, before he could do anything, he sensed a presence behind him. He quickly turned around to see the young girl he saw outside the college and in the restaurant, a bleeding wound was prominent on her forehead. Her spirit then diminished out of sight. Leaving Dean stunned.

He spun around to see the skeletal remains he saw just a few seconds ago were now gone. "What the…" Dean muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around the room where the skeletons had been not a moment ago. "What the hell is going on?" He repeated to himself, trying to make sense of everything he had just witnessed.

Frustration boiled within him as he ran a hand through his messy hair, feeling utterly helpless. He took a deep, shaky breath before quickly exiting the room. "Screw it. I need a drink" Dean mumbled, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

____________________________________________

Thunder was rolling as lightning filled the dark sky where Dean stood in the cemetery. He looked down at the headstone that read ‘John Winchester’ with anger, sorrow, pity and a bit of hatred. “All of them. Everyone that you and F/N saved. Everyone that Sammy, Y/N/N and I saved. They're all dead”

The anger in his voice was palpable, as he looked down at the grave with clenched fists. "Everyone!" he repeated, his voice hoarse with emotion. The rain that fell from the sky did little to soothe his anger as he continued to glare at the headstone.

For a moment, he was silent, the only sound being the pattering of rain on his jacket and the distant rumble of thunder. Then he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "And there’s this girl that's haunting me. I don’t know why. Y/N can’t even feel her, I mean, how can she not see her? The chick feels everything, it's annoying sometimes!”

He sighed frustrated, leaning against a neighboring headstone, not even caring if he got mud on himself. "I don’t know why. I don’t know what the connection is." he muttered, raising the bottle of whiskey to his lips. The alcohol burned down his throat, but he welcomed the sensation.

It was a distraction for the moment, a way to numb the pain and anger that churned within him. But as the liquid coursed through his veins, it also made his head feel fuzzy and he soon found himself slumping against the headstone, his eyes growing heavy.

He knew he should probably get up and get out of here, but the weight of everything seemed too heavy, too much to bear. He sighed and took another swig of whiskey, hoping that it would bring him closer to unconsciousness.

“Its like my old life is coming after me or something, you know? Like it doesn’t want me to be happy” Dean rambled in frustration before glaring at his fathers headstone. “Of course, I know what you and f/n say. Well…not the two of you that played softball, but…” Dean’s throat constricted as he held back tears.

“You guys would say, ‘Go hunt the djinn. Hey, it put you here, it could put you back’” Dean said bitterly. “‘Your happiness for all those people’s lives. No contest right?’” Dean further quoted his father and F/N. Dean took a shaky breath, his vision growing hazy as the alcohol continued to take its toll on him.

He knew he was rambling, but the words just kept pouring out of him, fueled by the mixture of anger, sadness and confusion. "I just... I just don’t get it" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?!” Dean exclaimed, his heart clenching as the tears flowed freely down his cheeks.

“What about us, huh?! What? Mom’s not supposed to live her life. Me and Sammy aren’t supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?! It’s-” The words died in his throat again, so he brought the bottle to his lips.

The whiskey burned as it traveled down his throat, but he didn't care. The pain from the burn dulled the emotional pain that threatened to consume him. He slouched further down against the headstone, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

His gaze fell on his father's grave again, his eyes narrowing faintly. "Why can’t I just have a normal life? Why does it always to come back to this?" he let out a bitter laugh, "It’s like I’m cursed or something" He took another swig from the bottle, his grip loosening as the alcohol took effect.

Dean let out a deep breath, feeling the world spin slightly as he attempted to push himself up. His legs felt weak and shaky, but he managed to stand. "Yeah." He muttered, stumbling forward a few steps. He didn’t even look back as he made his way out of the cemetery and towards his car.

Dean woke up the next morning in bed, his head was still fuzzy, a nauseous feeling in his stomach. He groaned, his hand moving to cover his eyes as he slowly sat up, blinking groggily to adjust to the light in the room. He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the throbbing headache that had taken up residence in his head.

His eyes glanced over to see the time on the clock, 6:30 a.m.

He heard the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom and saw a tall glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol was placed neatly on the nightstand. Dean grimaced slightly as he reached for the Tylenol and popped a few pills into his mouth before washing them down with the water.

The coolness of the liquid helped to soothe his raw throat, and he exhaled heavily. He heard footsteps approaching from the bathroom, but before he could turn to look, Y/N swung the door open, a slight frown on her face.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, "Hey." she said, her voice gentle but with a hint of concern. Dean looked up at her, guilt hitting him as he saw the look on her face. He knew by the look on her face that this wasn’t the first time he came home late and drunk, he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

But that wasn’t it, she was nervous. Y/N moved over to the bed and sat down beside him, reaching out to take his hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of his hand, trying to offer comfort despite the obvious worry she was feeling.

"You okay?" She asked softly, studying his face intently. He nodded slowly, looking down at their clasped hands. He squeezed her hand gently, meeting her gaze. "Yeah, I’m fine," he mumbled. A lie. “I-“ Y/N tried to tell him what she just found out while she was in the bathroom but her tone was shaky.

Seeing the hesitance on Y/N's face, Dean's heart dropped. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, concern etching his features. He squeezed her hand again, silently encouraging her to speak. Y/N took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once again. Her free hand was buried in her robe pocket, clutching the positive pregnancy test in her hand.

“I know we talked about it before… we spoke about doing it after our wedding. I’m ready to do this and I know you are too but-“ She sighed before slowly retracting it from her pocket, placing it into Dean’s hand. Dean's eyes widened as he stared down at the pregnancy test in his hand, his heart skipping a beat when he saw those two pink lines.

His hand trembled slightly as he held it, his mind spinning with a mixture of shock, joy, and trepidation. He looked back up at Y/N, his gaze intense and full of an array of emotions. "You're... pregnant? We're having a baby?" Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as she nodded, “After I left for work last night, the beer made me sick and I puked my life out. My boss sent me home early, then I realized my period was late…really late”

A flood of emotions coursed through Dean like a tidal wave. He gently set the pregnancy test down beside him and brought Y/N into his lap, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"We're gonna have a baby," he repeated, his voice full of awe and love. He pulled back slightly to look at Y/N, his eyes glimmering with happiness. "I can't believe it. This is..." He trailed off, too overwhelmed to find the right words to express his feelings.

This wasn't real. Is what his mind screamed at him.

Y/N was more than pleased with Dean’s reaction to her positive pregnancy test. Clinging to Dean for dear life as she sobbed, “We’re gonna be such bad ass parents” She chuckled through tears. Dean chuckled softly, holding Y/N tighter against him. He buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent and relishing in the feeling of her in his arms.

"We definitely are," he agreed, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "We'll be the best damn parents our kid could ask for." All while saying this, he knew what had to be done. Desperately trying his hardest not to cry, because this is all he wanted, but he knew he couldn’t have it.

“Do you have to work today?” Dean asked her tenderly as he traced circles on her back. Y/N shook her head, feeling the comforting touch of his fingers tracing her back. "No," she murmured, "I have today off, thankfully." She snuggled closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth.

"Why? What’s up?” She asked curiously, tilting her head up to look at him. "Just asking," he said lightly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have some stuff I need to take care of today.” He explained. "I’ll be gone for a bit, but I’ll be back in a couple of hours, okay?” He placed a kiss on her forehead, attempting to mask his pain with a smile.

Y/N nodded against his chest, feeling a slight sense of unease but not wanting to push the matter. "Okay, baby, I’ll be here," she replied. "Just be careful, alright?" He nodded, pressing another kiss to her temple. "I will," he reassured her.

Reluctantly, he gently eased her off his lap and rose from the bed, grabbing a shirt from the dresser. "I should get going though. I love you, princess." Those words struck Dean to his core. Y/N watched him get dressed, her heart heavy with worry and confusion but she plastered a small smile on her face. "I love you too, charming," she told him.

Once Dean was gone, Y/N sat quietly on the bed, her heart heavy with confusion. It was as if something was off about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tried to push the thoughts aside, knowing he probably had something important to take care of, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss.

With a sigh, she laid back on the bed, trying to find comfort in the soft sheets and the familiar scent of the man she loved.

Once out in the garage, Dean leaned against Baby, his shoulders slumping as the weight of what he needed to do hit him all at once. With a sigh, he got in his car and started the engine, the only thing on his mind was the decision he had to make.

____________________________________________

Sam jolted awake in his bed to the sound of the door opening downstairs, it was way early in the morning, he instantly clutched the baseball bat he had under his bed. Gently padding over to the door.

Sam slowly opened the door, his grip on the baseball bat tightening as he strained his ears to listen for any sounds. Hearing the faint sound of movement downstairs, he cautiously made his way out of the room, keeping the bat raised just in case.

He saw the figure of a man in the dark house rummaging through the China cabinet as he peered from the corner. Sam's eyes widened as he saw the figure in the dark. He stayed hidden behind the corner for a moment, his heart racing as he tried to decide what to do.

He gripped the bat tighter, launching himself at the ‘intruder’. Dean swiftly dodged the attack and tackled Sam to the ground, pinning him down with his body. “That was so easy, I’m embarrassed for you?” Dean quipped. "Dean?" Sam exclaimed, breathing heavily, "What the hell are you doing here?" Shoving his brother off of him to push himself to his feet.

“I was looking for a beer” Dean joked, patting Sam on his shoulder. A wave of nostalgia washed over him at the interaction. “In the China cabinet?” Sam questioned, his brows furrowed as he padded over to the wall to flick the light on. His eyes glanced over to the table to see a box of their mom’s expensive knives.

“That’s mom’s silver” Sam pointed out, “Sam-” Dean sighed but his brother cut him off. “Wait, you broke into the house to steal Mom’s silver?!” Sam lowly exclaimed. “It's not what it looks like, okay? I didn't have a choice” Dean tried to defend. “Oh really? What's so fucking important that you gotta steal from your own mother?”

Dean grimaced, raking his fingers roughly through his hair as he tried to find the right words. "You want the truth?" He grumbled. The disappointment in Sam's voice was evident, and it cut deep. But he knew he couldn't tell him the truth. At least not yet. "Yeah. Yeah I do," Sam urged him as he nodded, Dean sighed before coming up with a shitty excuse.

“I owe somebody money.” Sam rolled his eyes. Typical Dean, he thought to himself. “Who?” He asked. “A bookie. I lost big on a game. I gotta bring him the cash tonight” Dean lied. “I can’t believe we’re even related” Sam mumbled, shaking his head. Dean’s face dropped, his heart aching in his chest.

“Sam, I’m sorry” Dean apologized sincerely, “Yeah” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry that we don't get along. I’m sorry that you and y/n/n aren’t friends anymore because of me. And I wish to hell that I could stay and fix it, fix everything.” His voice cracked. “I wish I could stay and be a father….but I gotta do this” Dean said, his voice filled with determination.

“People’s lives depend on it” Dean sighed heavily before picking up one of the silver knives from the red box. “What are you talking about, Dean?” Sam asked lowly, confusion clear in his tone. “Nothing. Forget it. Just…uh…” Dean said as he turned back to his brother. “Hey. Tell Mom I love her. And tell my princess that I’m so sorry” Dean said with a sad smile.

Sam's confusion turned to alarm as he watched Dean pick up the knife. "Dean, what-?" he started to say, but before he could finish his thought, he saw Dean's sad smile and his stomach dropped. Dean turned on his heels to walk out of the room. “Dean” Sam tried to stop his brother from leaving.

“I’ll see you, Sammy” Dean said tenderly, pulling the door open. He gave the house one last sorrow filled and painstaking look. Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Sam stared down the shut door for a few seconds, his mind spiraling. “What the hell, Dean?” He muttered to himself.

He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his gut as his worries about Dean only increased. Sam was left standing in the doorway, his heart heavy and his mind racing. He couldn't understand what had just happened. Why had Dean been acting so strangely? Why had he stolen the silver, and why had he talked about people's lives depending on it?

Sam's mind raced through possibilities and worst-case scenarios, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of it. Immediately, Sam fished his phone out of his pocket to call the one person he knew would get through to Dean.

Dialing Y/N’s number, he waited anxiously for her to answer. The seconds felt like hours as he held his breath, silently praying for her to pick up the call. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her voice came through the speaker. “Hello?”

"Y/N," Sam blurted out, his voice filled with urgency. "Something's up with Dean" he told her, pacing around the room in agitation. There was a beat of shocked silence on the other end before Y/N spoke, her concern evident in her voice. "I knew it” She grumbled, gripping her steering wheel.

After Dean left the house when she broke the news of her pregnancy, Y/N didn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong as much as she wanted to. So after over an hour of it nagging her, she hopped into her truck and went all over town looking for him.

“Is he still at the house?” Y/N asked Sam quickly. "Uhhh…" Sam hummed as he peeled back the curtain. The Impala was still outside with Dean sitting in the driver’s side, seemingly lost in thought. “He’s still outside” Sam answered, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened.

"But he was acting strange. He said something about owing money to a bookie and people's lives depending on it. I don't know what to make of it, Y/N" There was a short pause on the other end as Y/N absorbed this information. "That doesn't sound right at all,” she said, her voice filled with worry.

“Yeah, I know,” Sam agreed, his anxiety growing by the minute. "And then… he told me to tell you and mom that he's sorry and that he loves you" he relayed, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Y/N's heart sank at the mention of Dean's message, a knot forming in her throat. There was an undeniable feeling of dread in her gut.

Sam looked back out the window, his eyes falling on Dean who hadn’t shifted from his spot since earlier.

Her mind was racing, wondering if this was because of her unexpected pregnancy. So she tried her best to formulate a plan, even in this stressful time. “Okay, listen to me very clearly, Samuel. You go outside and keep him there for as long as possible. I’m on my way” Y/N instructed him sternly.

"Got it. I’ll keep him there," Sam assured her, his tone set with determination. “I’ll even pretend to be mad or something.” Y/N’s instructions were clear and concise, giving Sam a sense of purpose and a small hint of optimism, which he desperately needed at this moment.

Meanwhile, Dean was sitting in the Impala, lost in thought for God knows how long when suddenly his passenger side. Sam plopped into the front seat with a heavy sigh, causing Dean’s head to snap in his direction. “Get out the car,” Dean exclaimed sternly. “I’m going with you.” Sam insisted.

“You're just gonna slow me down." Dean growled. “Tough!” Sam sassed. "This is dangerous and you could get hurt!" Dean shouted. “Yeah. And so could you, Dean!” Sam shouted back. Dean was still trying to find a comeback when they suddenly heard the sound of screeching tires.

Their heads whipped around to see Y/N's truck coming to a stop a few yards back from the Impala. Y/N quickly jumped out and sprinted over to them. "What's going on?" Y/N asked breathlessly as she yanked the backdoor open, her wide eyes fixing on Dean with concern.

Dean was taken aback by her sudden appearance, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt seeing her there. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered, struggling against his own desire to reach out and hold her close.

"I don’t care. Sam told me everything. Whatever stupid thing you’re about to do, you’re not doing it alone. And that’s that," Y/N asserted firmly. Sam exchanged a knowing glance with her, silently impressed by her determination. Dean’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her, a mix of annoyance and affection.

He knew better than to argue with her once she had her mind set on something. Whether this was really her or not, he’s pretty sure every version of her would fight his stubbornness if she needed to.

His eyes glanced between Sam and Y/N with shock, he could understand why she would be so stubborn, but not Sam. If they weren’t close here, if Dean was so horrible that Sam wanted nothing to do with him, why would Sam stick his neck out for him?

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” Dean asked Sam in confusion. He sighed deeply, tearing his eyes away to face the windshield. “Because you’re still my brother,” Sam muttered. A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she placed a hand on her stomach.

The two words stung Dean, cutting deep into his heart. ‘Still my brother.' His eyes glanced down to Y/N's stomach as she subconsciously placed her hand on it. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, knowing that he would never get to experience that with her.

"Bitch." he smirked at the two, Sam’s brows furrowed in offense as Y/N smiled. “What are you calling me a bitch for?” Sam stuttered, Y/N let out a snort of amusement. “You’re supposed to say, ‘jerk’” Sam’s brows furrowed again. "What?” Sam muttered under his breath as Y/N snickered, Dean rolled his eyes before putting the Impala in drive.

“Nevermind” He huffed. Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder from the backseat, “Asshat” She shot at with a grin. Dean chuckled under his breath in amusement, his chest swelling with the familiarity, “Nutcase”

____________________________________________

Y/N was half asleep in the backseat, her hand resting right over her stomach, lazily tracing circles around the navel through her shirt. She tried to focus on getting a somewhat proper rest having been on the road for more than 12 hours. The hum of Baby’s engine was the only sound that echoed through their ears.

Dean’s eyes landed on Y/N through the rearview mirror, the painful ache in his chest resurfaced as he watched Y/N trace her navel, gently caressing her own stomach, almost as if she was comforting their unborn child before it was even in this world yet.

He wanted so badly to just reach over and do the same, he always knew she’d make a great mother, even if y/n wouldn’t admit it to herself. But he had to pull himself away from that nagging feeling. The voice at the back of his head that was begging him to be selfish for once. He had to focus. He had a mission.

“What’s in the bag?” Sam broke the silence, pointing to the brown paper bag laying next to Dean. Y/N cracked open one of her eyes, “Nothing” Dean huffed, focusing his gaze on the empty dark road. “Nothing?” Sam sassed, “Yeah, nothing” Dean snapped back. “Just open the damn bag, I don’t wanna hear any bickering” Y/N grumbled in annoyance.

Sam scoffed before picking up the back. “Fine” He said, “Fine” Y/N mocked back, earning a glare from him. “You don’t wanna do that” Dean snorted. “Oh, really?” Sam sassed again as he reached into the bag, pulling out a container of lamb’s blood. Y/N gasped theratically as Sam did this, his own eyes widening with shock.

“What the fuck is that?!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing herself up in the backseat. “Blood” Dean shrugged, both Sam and Y/N’s eyes twitched at him. “Yeah, we can see that it’s blood, Dean! What the hell is it doing here?!” Sam shouted. Dean’s smirk widened, “You guys really don’t wanna know” He snorted.

“No, we really do wanna know! We really really do wanna know!” Y/N yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, y’all are gonna find out sooner or later” He sighed, “I needed a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood” Dean explained casually.

The car fell silent, he craned his head to see Sam and Y/N staring back at him with wide eyes, jaws practically touching the floorboards. Dean had to hold back himself from laughing at their faces, the look they had was hysterical.

“You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why!?” Sam exclaimed. “Because there’s this creature, a djinn, and I have to hunt it” Dean stated. Sam and Y/N’s faces dropped, “I let an insane man impregnate me” Y/N muttered to herself, her voice going up and octave as she threw herself back into the seat, looking around in disbelief.

“Okay…stop the car..” Sam began calmly, “I know how it sounds” Dean shot back. “Great. Just….stop the car” Sam tried again, y/n was still staring out the car in disbelief, her jaw hanging. “It’s the truth, guys. There are things out there in the dark. There are bad things. There are nightmare things” Dean insisted, Y/N’s eyes snapped over to him as he continued.

“People have to be saved, if we don’t save them, then nobody will,” Dean said determinedly. Sam and Y/N could feel their heads spinning, trying to make sense of what Dean was saying while still trying to process his previous statement about the silver knife. "You're telling us there's some monster out there you want to hunt?" Y/N asked disbelievingly. "Yeah" Dean said as if it was obvious.

"And you need a silver knife dipped in blood to do it?" She continued, her eyes never leaving his. "Uh-huh" Dean confirmed nonchalantly, his focus still on the road. Sam and Y/N shared a disheveled look. She decided she had had enough, pushing herself over from the backseat and into the middle of the two Winchester boys as Dean drove.

“You’ve gotta be losing it,” Y/N declared, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and disbelief. “And you can’t just go and hunt some ‘djinn’ that supposedly exists, you have no business getting yourself tangled up in something crazy like that!” She cried.

Dean shot her a quick side glance before returning his focus back on the road, “It’s not a ‘supposedly’ thing. These things are real” He stated matter-of-factly. Y/N shook her head in disbelief, her eyes wide, “You’re insane” she muttered.

“Look, man, we wanna help you, alright. We really do but you’re having some kind of psychotic breakdown so…” Sam chimed in, attempting to fish his phone out of his pocket. “I wish” Dean muttered. “Baby…” Y/N said to him tenderly. Dean’s hands tightened around the steering wheel at the soft tone, the nickname making his chest ache with yearning.

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “Save the pet names…you don’t mean it like that” he huffed under his breath, opening his eyes as Sam dialed a number on his phone. Y/N physically flinched at his harsh tone as he rolled down the window and snatched Sam’s phone out of his hand before tossing it out of the window.

“What the fuck was that, Dean?! That was my phone!!” Sam exclaimed, whipping his head around in shock. Y/N’s mouth dropped, “You just threw his fucking phone out of the window!” She gasped. Dean ignored them both, his gaze fixated on the road ahead, “I’m not going to a rubber room Sammy and y/n/n, and we got work to do” Dean said calmly.

“We were just trying to help you out, Dean!” Sam shouted. “We don’t want you to get hurt!” Y/N added, tears brimming in her eyes. That made Dean know for sure this wasn’t his girl, because as much as she was a crybaby for sad movies and cute animal videos, she wasn’t so easy to break. “What, you two protect me?” Dean snorted in amusement.

“Yeah!” Sam and Y/N exclaimed in unison. “Oh, that’s hilarious” Dean chuckled sarcastically, turning back to face the road. “Why don’t you twojust sit tight and try not to get us all killed?” Dean demanded before turning on the radio. Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Saturday Night Special’ began booming through the Impala’s deck again.

Sam and Y/N sat back in their seats, speechless after being chewed out by Dean. They exchanged a look before facing the windshield again, both of their minds swirling with thoughts as Dean’s music blared through the stereo. Y/N’s hands slid down to her stomach, gently caressing the skin where their unborn child was growing inside of her.

____________________________________________

The Impala pulled up to the familiar warehouse, Sam was passed out in the backseat, snoring rather heavily. After almost accidentally punching Y/N in his sleep, once again, she shunned Sam to the backseat, leaving an unconscious Y/N in the front seat. Her head was nestled in Dean’s lap, using his thighs as a makeshift pillow.

Dean’s hand moved down to Y/N’s hair, his fingers gently stroking the strands. The aching feeling in his chest increased every time he looked down at her sleeping form. His eyes scanned each detail on her face, the curve of her lips, everything.

It has been a long time since he had seen her look so peaceful, she seemed so relaxed and calm as she slept. It was a sharp contrast the way she usually was; stressed, anxious, worried and overthinking about everything.

Dean sighed heavily before fishing his flashlight from his jacket, shining it in both Sam and Y/N’s faces. A wide grin playing on his lips. Sam’s eyebrows crinkled together as the light shined in his face, his eyes fluttering open as he groaned. “Wha—” He muttered, confusion written all over his face. Y/N on the other hand, let out a loud whine.

Twisting in Dean’s lap to face his stomach before shoving her face into his shirt in order to block the bright light. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty and sasquatch” Dean chuckled, shifting in the seat. Sam grumbled incoherently, rubbing the sleep out from his eyes. “Where are we?” He mumbled, still trying to wake himself up.

Y/N remained pressed against Dean’s stomach, trying to fall back into her semi-comprehensive state of sleep. “Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Dean replied with a light chuckle. This made Y/N shoot up from her place in his lap. Dean chuckled again at her reaction, a smirk on his face as he turned off the flashlight.

She narrowed her eyes at him before glaring at Sam, who in turn, gave her a small sheepish smile. She huffed in annoyance before looking out the window. Y/N’s eyes flickered over to the warehouse, the air of the cold night wafted through the open windows, Dean’s body heat couldn’t keep her warm anymore. She shivered slightly, bringing her hands up to wrap her arms around herself.

“We’re in Illinois” Dean answered Sam’s previous question. “And you think something’s there?” Y/N’s voice was thick with sleep as she asked. “I know it is” Dean said firmly, his eyes narrowed at the building with determination. Sam and Y/N exchanged a nervous look before turning back to him.

The trio all held their own flashlights up, the abandoned warehouse/ruins Dean remembered he was attacked by the Djinn was exactly the way it was. Thunder clapped outside, bellowing through the dark hall as lightning filled the sky.

Dean led the way, his footsteps echoed through the abandoned hallway as they walked. Y/N stuck by his side while Sam followed behind them. She was starting to get a bad feeling, the warehouse was dark, cold and damp. So instinctively, she reached for her fiancé’s hand, interlocking their fingers together.

“See? There’s nothing here, Dean” Sam insisted. “Look, our parents are gonna be worried sick about us, babe. Come on, let’s just go” Y/N pleaded with Dean. Dean gritted his teeth, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightened slightly. “Shh” he hissed. Sam and Y/N exchanged another nervous look, stopping in their tracks when they heard the sounds of a girl crying. “What the fuck is that?” Sam gasped.

“Both of you, stay behind me and keep your mouths shut” Dean instructed them, his voice laced with authority as he let go of Y/N’s hand, using his body to cover her. His free hand instinctively went to shield her belly. They both nodded, falling behind him as he moved forward. The crying got louder with every step they took.

Sam and Y/N’s eyes went as wide as saucers when their eyes landed on the decomposing corpses of a man and a woman. The same ones Dean saw back at his ‘house’. Y/N brought a hand to her mouth, a sick churning in her stomach at the sight of the dead bodies. The urge to puke was poking at her as Dean kept his face stoic, the confirmation that none of this was real was creeping up on him and it devastated him.

“What the fuck?” Sam gasped again, swallowing thickly as Dean’s eyes flicked over to a young girl who was tied up by her wrists. She had a large gash in her throat, her skin looked dirty, as though she hadn’t bathed in months. But she still looked somewhat alive, his eyes piercing into Dean’s.

It was the girl that was haunting him. Dean moved closer to the girl as Y/N reached over to grip Sam’s shoulder, trying to hold up her balance. The urge to puke was growing stronger. “Dean, wait…” Y/N mumbled, her words almost incoherent with the bile threatening to rise up her throat. He didn’t listen, only moved forward.

The girl was staring back at him, her eyes bloodshot and dark. “Dean, don’t” Sam spoke up, watching the scene unfold. But Dean still didn’t listen, he went straight up to the girl, crouching down to her. She tilted her head to the side, as if to study him. “It’s her,” Dean gasped as the realization hit him.

It confused them how Dean knew this girl, but they still felt the need to help her. For Y/N, seeing the young girl in such a state brought out the maternal instincts she never knew she had. “Dean, what’s going on?” She asked urgently, attempting to reach over to untie the girl, along with Sam. But Dean stopped them, “Shhh” He hushed them when he heard footsteps.

Quickly and quietly, they all hid behind a large tank as the Djinn entered the room. The young girl was shaking as the heavily tattooed creature padded over to her, “Where’s my dad? I don’t know.” The young girl sobbed, her voice absolutely desperate and broke. The Djinn didn’t answer, he just inched towards the girl whose feet were hanging slightly off the ground.

“No. Don’t. No. Where’s my dad?” She pleaded weakly as she tried to shuffle away but it was no use. The djinn brought his hand up to her face, placing his fingertips to the sobbing girl’s face, “Sleep” He said, his fingers lighting a small glow of white before fully expanding into a large dark blue light. The girl shivered in his touch, “Sleep…” He said again, caressing her cheek.

The girl soon fell unconscious as the Djinn placed a sickening kiss on her cheek before unhooking the saline bag that was hanging on an IV stand. He then brought the bloodied thin clear hose to his mouth, ingesting her blood.

Y/N felt sick to her stomach, her throat closing up at the scene unfolding in front of her. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t, it was like she was completely frozen, not able to move or break her view from the girl.

Sam wasn’t faring much better, a visible shiver shot through him at the sight. His head felt like it was spinning when the djinn started feeding off the girl, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly parted.

Dean, on the other hand, had never felt so angry. His body was tense and his jaw clenched.

Y/N couldn’t hold it back anymore, the bile in her throat built up and she immediately let chunks blew all over Sam’s shoes, causing the younger Winchester to gag in disgust as both the scene unfolding and the sight of the djinn drinking the girl’s blood.

“Agh, Jesus!” Sam hissed, lowly. But it seemed like the djinn didn’t notice, it’s back was turned and it was still in the middle of feeding. But Dean caught the sound of Sam’s gag and Y/N’s heaving, he shot the pair a glare and held his finger up to his lips, signaling them to stay quiet.

The djinn finally finished feeding, letting out a satisfied moan as it pulled the hose out of its mouth. A chilling smile crept across its lips as it left the room. “This is real? You’re not crazy?” Y/N began to hyperventilate along with Sam as she wiped her mouth, buckling over as a pain struck at her stomach.

“She didn’t know where she was. She thought she was with her father” Dean muttered, the wheels turning in his head. The boys then stepped out from behind the tank, moving closer to the girl. Sam held up a weak Y/N, his arm draping around her midsection as Dean clenched his fists.

“What if that’s what the Djinn does? It doesn’t grant you a wish. I just- it makes you think you has” Dean swallowed harshly. He was hoping that somehow, someway, it could’ve just been a super fucked up wish. And he could’ve fixed his relationships with his family. Finally get on F/N’s good side. Be a better brother, be a better fiancé….be a better father.

“Look man, that thing can come back, alright? And we need to get Y/N to a hospital, she’s weak” Sam pleaded with Dean as Y/N’s head tumbled on his shoulder. But Dean didn’t hear him, all he heard was a ringing in his ears, his head snapping to the other side of the room where a light shone over head.

Dean slowly stepped closer to the light, flashes of his own body hanging from a ceiling filled his vision. Causing the elder Winchester to choke on his own spit, his throat constricted as air refused to enter his lungs. “Dean, baby. Please” Y/N’s weak voice pleaded with him. “What if I’m like her?” Dean finally let himself say out loud. “What if I’m tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head?”

Part of him knew, that voice nagging him at the back of his head knew. “I mean, it could, you know…maybe give us some kind of supernatural acid and then just feeds on us slow,” Dean muttered as he studied the girl’s face. Sam’s jaw dropped at Dean’s words, his brain going into overthinking mode, he was about to say something but stopped when he heard a low whimper come from Y/N.

Her head was heavy on his shoulder. “No, Dean, that doesn’t make sense, okay,” Sam gaped. Y/N’s weak eyes flickered to Dean once more, her breath was slightly ragged and labored from when she had puked. “Please” Y/N croaked, clinging onto Sam. Dean turned to face them.

“What if that’s why she keeps appearing to me? She’s not a spirit. It’s like more and more I’m catching reality flashes. You know? like I’m in here somewhere, I’m catatonic. I’m taking all this stuff in but I can’t snap out of it” Dean put the pieces together.

Y/N, weak as she was, peeled herself from Sam and forced herself to walk over to Dean, her legs were shaking and it was hard to keep herself standing upright But she reached out for him, her hand landing on his arm. “Dean” She gasped. “Look, you’re right. We were wrong, you’re not crazy. But please, we need to get out of here. Fast.” She pleaded, her words coming out thick and choked, trying not to puke again.

Y/N ran her hands up the back of his neck but it made Dean feel sick rather than safe. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, clenching his jaw before roughly pushing her off. Luckily, Sam caught her before she could hit the ground. Y/N and Sam both went wide-eyed at Dean’s sudden roughness. Y/N’s face crumbled, her expression filled with hurt as her eyes began to water. “Dean?” She whispered, her voice so fragile.

But Dean’s face was hard and emotionless, his eyes darkened as he stared back at her. “What the fuck man?! She’s pregnant!” Sam exclaimed as he carefully helped Y/N back onto her feet, his arms held protectively around her. “I don’t think you’re real” Dean gaped, feeling as though he had been shot in the heart. “I don’t think either of you are real.” Dean shook his head, slowly backing away from them.

Y/N let out a choked sob, her bottom lip quivered, the urge to keep herself together was getting weaker. Her head fell into her hand while Sam looked ready to punch some sense into his brother’s head.

He gritted his teeth before helping Y/N to lean on something before storming over to his brother, shaking his roughly. “Did you feeling that? You feel this? I’m real! Y/N is real and so is your goddamn baby! This is not an acid trip! We’re real and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now please” Sam pleaded with Dean, his tone filled with desperation.

Dean’s face remained stoic, “There’s one way to be sure” He clenched his jaw before retracting the silver knife from his jacket pocket. He then raised the knife towards Sam. “Woah, Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah! Stop!” Sam cried, his hands shot up into the air, as if to surrender. Scuffling over to shield Y/N who was still clutching her stomach, writhing in pain. But Dean didn’t believe it for one second.

“Dean, what are you doing, man? What are you doing?” He pleaded with Dean, his eyes widened in panicked confusion. “It’s an old-wives tale. If you’re about to die in a dream, you wake up” Dean stated. Sam’s face fell, he knew exactly what Dean was going to do. “No, no, no, no. That’s crazy, alright?!” He protested. “Maybe” Dean shrugged.

Y/N’s head perked up, her eyes widened at Dean’s words as she finally understood what he was about to do. “Dean, no, don’t!” She shouted as Sam used his arm to stop her from approaching Dean. “You’re gonna kill yourself- Okay!” Sam exclaimed when he tried to apprehend Dean but he drew the knife on them in a warning manner. “Or I’m gonna wake up” Dean shot back.

“One or the other” Dean breathed heavily. “Look, this isn’t a dream, alright? We’re here, with you, now, and you are about to kill yourself, charming” Y/N pleaded with him, her voice sounding suddenly stronger. Dean narrowed his eyes at her, “No, I’m pretty sure” He growled, “Like….90 percent sure” He blinked before turning the knife on him, ready to stab himself.

“Wait!!” Sam bellowed. Dean’s head snapped over to the side when he saw the figure of two women, one in a white nightgown and the other in a black. Mary Winchester and M/N L/N approached Dean with sweet smiles on their faces. His heart dropped in his chest as he watched from all corners. Jess appeared, then F/N from another corner.

Y/N was suddenly healthy and well again, slowly walking up to Dean. “Why’d you have to keep digging? Why couldn’t you have left well enough alone?” She asked, her voice wasn’t sounding much like her own. “You were happy.” Sam added as Mary and M/N moved and began walking besides Y/N. “Put the knife down, honey” M/N said gently.

“Listen to her, Dean,” Mary added just as tenderly. Dean was frozen in place, his eyes wide, shifting from side to side as the women in this nightmare, his nightmare, advanced towards him. His heart was hammering in his chest, he looked like he was ready to have a panic attack. The knife loosened on his grip as he looked over to Y/N, his eyes wide like a frightened child.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

“You’re not real” Dean’s lip trembled, tearing welling up in his eyes to say this to his mother and M/N, subconsciously tightening the knife in his grips. All three women frowned, “None of it is” He spat. His eyes glancing down to Y/N’s stomach, he felt as thought he had been shot, once again.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s still better than anything you had” Mary said encouragingly. “What?” Dean gasped. “It’s everything you want. We’re a family again” M/N added, offering Dean a small smile. “Let’s go home,” She urged him. “But I’ll die,” Dean’s voice broke.

“The djinn’ll drain the life outta me in a couple of days” He shook his head, part of him wanted to be selfish and take the offer but his conscience wouldn’t let him. “But I’m here with us, it’ll feel like years…” Y/N chimed in, taking Dean’s hand into hers to place it on her stomach. “…like a lifetime”

Dean’s breath hitched at Y/N’s words. He was torn between selfish temptation and morality, his mind was fighting with itself. The feeling of his child under his hand was so real and it was making him falter.

The tears began to fall down Dean’s pale cheeks, he looked absolutely heartbroken. He didn’t know what to do, the women around him had everything he ever wanted but it wasn’t real. None of it was real. His throat was tight, he could feel the bile rising from his stomach but he tried to hold it in.

Mary brought her hand up to caress Dean’s cheek and M/N took Dean’s free hand in his. “We promise. No more pain or fear.” Mary said sweetly as Dean nuzzled his cheek into her hand and tightened his grip on M/N’s hand. “Just love, comfort and safety” M/N added in an urging tone.

Dean’s eyes reopened, still trained on his palm that was resting on Y/N’s stomach. Both mothers stepped back, allowing Y/N to wrap her arms around Dean, running her fingers through the nape of his neck. “Dean. Stay with us. Let’s go home and get some rest” Y/N pleaded.

Dean’s eyes met with Y/N’s, staring into those gorgeous (e/c) irises that he’ll never get tired of looking into. She looked so beautiful, so healthy. It was too good to be true. The idea of her bearing his child, them being parents together, the idea of her actually loving him back was all too good to be true for Dean. His lip quivered as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing his thumb on her soft skin.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam anymore. You get to watch him live a full life” Jessica chimed in. Dean’s brows creased as his chest ached. Y/N leaned up to capture Dean’s lips into a gentle slow kiss. The kiss was long and tender, it felt so real, and it was making this so much more painful for Dean.

He could feel his heart breaking as tears continued to fall down his face, a strangled gasp escaped from him. But Y/N didn’t let go. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hand remained firm on her stomach. She pulled away for a breath, her bottom lip trembled as she leaned her forehead against his, “We can finally have a future together. Have our own family. I love you, charming” She whispered.

“Please” Y/N pleaded, the look of desperation in her eyes was enough to bring Dean to a puddle, it took all in him not to crack right there and give in. He stubbornly shook his head, “No you don’t….at least, not like that” Dean whispered back, his voice hoarse as he once again denied Y/N’s love for him.

A frown took over Y/N’s beautiful face, her eyes watering up as the words stung her. “Yes, I do” She insisted, her hands moving up to cup his face so he wouldn’t look away, to look her in the eye. “Dean, I do, I love you” Her voice was pleading, she wasn’t lying. The words were written all over her face, her heart was laying bare for him.

This wasn’t real… this couldn’t be real. It’s not real.

It was Sam’s turn, the younger Winchester stepped forward and Y/N released her loose grip on Dean. “Why is it our job to save everyone?” Sam asked in a calm voice. “Haven't we done enough?” He added, the look of despair on his brother’s face was extreme to the point where Sam was willing to do anything to keep Dean here.

“I’m begging you. Give me the knife” Sam begged him. Dean’s eyes trailed the room. They went to F/N, who was yet to say a word, but he had an encouraging look on his face. “Give him the knife, son” He finally said. Dean’s eyes then went to Jessica, before trailing over to Mary, M/N, Sam and finally Y/N. He gave her stomach one last look before leaning down to press a kiss to it.

Y/N’s lip curled into a small sad smile as he pressed a tender kiss to her stomach before drawing back to stare solemnly into her eyes. They were glossy with tears, she didn’t say anything, afraid that her voice would betray her. Dean’s eyes softened slightly as he stared down at the woman he loved.

His throat was as tight as it was before, but it felt more painful now. His heart ached, it hurt to say what he was going to say next. “I’m sorry, princess,” He murmured. With that, Dean reared the knife back before driving it into his stomach. A chorus of cries filled the room. “DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed.

Reality, 2007

Joliet, Illinois

“DEAN!” Sam and Y/N screamed when they stormed the ruined warehouse with Jo, guns blazing, all armed with silver knives dipped in lamb’s blood. Y/N’s stomach dropped, suppressing a scream when she saw Dean tied up from his wrists, a bag of his blood that was being drained was propped on an IV stand. He looked as pale as ever.

Y/N, Sam, and Jo advanced into the room further, eyes locked on Dean. She felt her stomach twist painfully as she took him in; bloody, bruised, pale. He was unconscious, most likely from the blood loss, he was too weak to lift his head.

“Dean” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky as her mind ran a mile a minute. Just staring at him was making her want to break down and cry. “Oh, God. Come on” Sam pleaded as he reholstered his gun and began shaking his brother.

“Dean, sweetie, please” Y/N begged, placing both her palms to his cheeks, gently tapping him as his eyes fluttered open. Jo reached down into Y/N’s boots to take out the butterfly knife she had stored there, flickering it open.

“Oh, Auntie Em. There’s no place like home” Dean moaned and groaned from the loss of blood. “Thank God, I thought we lost you for a second” Sam breathed out in relief, the pain clear in his voice. “Y’all almost did” Dean grunted, his face creasing with pain as Y/N yanked the IV needle from his neck.

“Come on, let’s get you down” Jo said quietly as she began to cut away at the ropes. Sam and Y/N held Dean up, not seeing the Djinn that appeared behind them. “Sam! Y/N!” Dean screamed, warning them. The sound of Dean’s voice, screaming their names, made the pair of them whip their heads around in horror.

The sight of the djinn made them both freeze for millisecond, stunned. The two instantly kicked into action, attacking the Djinn while Jo desperately tried to cut away quickly at the stubborn roping, bounding Dean’s wrists.

Both hunters tried to stab the Djinn with their knives but it was faster and stronger than them, it dodged their attack, gripping them by their wrists.

“Come on, hurry up!” Dean yelled at Jo, yanking at his wrists. “I’m trying!” Jo screamed back, quickening her pace, the two were horrified.

Y/N raised her foot, high kicking the Djinn across his face (thank you cheerleading) dazzling the creature. He backhanded Sam into a railing, the hunter went headfirst into it, also dazzled. The Djinn suddenly grabbed hold of Y/N’s throat, a gasp left her at the unexpected attack. It yanked her backwards, holding her in its grip.

Y/N struggled in his grip as he picked Sam up by his throat, attempting to squeeze the life force out of the two. Y/N reached her hand out in an attempt to summon her discarded knife on the ground with her mind but it was no use, the lack of air was causing her to grow light headed, her focus was minimal.

She was losing her touch as darkness slowly crept into vision, her eyelids grew heavier as she struggled to keep eye contact with Sam, who was equally as dizzy. She could see Sam flailing about, his lips moving but Y/N couldn’t hear him through the loud, continuous buzz that was ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, Dean and Jo appeared behind the Djinn, the younger huntress buried the knife in the Djinn’s spine. A sickening pierce echoed through the room as the Djinn groaned, gargling on his own blood. Her face contorted with anger as she twisted the knife for good measure.

They watched as the Djinn collapsed to the floor with a strangled moan, his grip loosening on the two, allowing both Sam and Y/N to break from his grip. Y/N let out a strangled cough, filling her lungs with oxygen and trying to regain her breath.

Dean turned his head to look at Y/N and Sam, who were both slumped against the flooring, both dazed. “Hey! You two okay?” He asked urgently, placing his hands on both their shoulders. “Yeah” Sam croaked, his voice hoarse when he swallowed. “Fine” Y/N nodded, reaching up to her neck to feel the aching skin where he gripped her.

Jo breathed out in relief as she crouched down to place her hand on Sam’s cheek. Sam winced as he leaned his cheek into Jo’s warm gentle touch on his face. The pair stared at each other for a moment, both glad the other was okay.

Sam was the first to break eye contact, he forced himself up from the floor, letting out a sigh, his legs felt like jelly. His eyes shifted over to Y/N, he extended his hand out to her, silently asking if she was okay. Y/N looked at him, letting out a shaky breath and nodded, taking his outstretched hand in hers.

Dean then suddenly remembered the girl from his dream, his head snapping behind him to see her tied up the same way he was. His face fell with instant sorrow when he saw her bound state, she was in a gown that was torn, her hair was messy and disheveled, her face was pale and lifeless.

Dean felt anger as he began to approach the girl, his legs stumbling as he attempted to stand up. His legs were still weak and wobbly from the Djinn venom. Dean brought his fingers up and pressed it to the side of her neck. His eyes widened when he felt the light thumping of a pulse, “She’s still alive, guys!” Dean exclaimed with relief as Jo reached up and cut the girl down and Dean retracted the IV needle from her neck.

Dean cradled the almost lifeless girl in his hands, “I got you. I got you. We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? I got you. I got you” Dean breathed out, even though weak, he held her up in his hands. Y/N smiled to herself as she watched Dean cradle the girl, his voice was soft and gentle as he murmured soft little reassurances to her.

Shushing her as if he was trying to soothe a child. She and Sam shared a concerned look however as Jo frowned. All fearful and unwilling to imagine what Dean went through in just a span of a few hours.

____________________________________________

Dean was sitting on his bed in the motel room, reading one of Y/N’s playboy magazine’s while Sam was on the phone with the hospital and Jo was lounging on Sam’s bed. Y/N was making a cup of tea for Dean, per her request, to bring his strength back up.

“Okay, uh, thank you so much for the update. Okay, bye” Sam said into the phone before hanging up. “That was the hospital. The girl’s been stabilized. Good chance she’s gonna pull through” Sam informed Dean, who just nodded in return. “That’s good,” Dean grunted. “Yeah” Sam sighed, settling in the bed next to Jo.

Y/N returned to Dean’s bed, handing him the cup of tea. “How about you? You alright?” She asked gently. “Yeah, I’m all right, thanks” Dean cleared his throat, unable to keep eye contact with her as he accepted the cup of tea. Sam, Jo and Y/N shared an unconvinced look.

“You should’ve seen it, guys. Our lives…” Dean sighed. “You were such a wussy” Dean shot at Sam jokingly, making the room erupt in chuckles. “You weren’t there man, sorry” He said to Jo. “No worries” Jo chuckled, shaking her head. Dean took a small sip of the warm tea, making sure to not burn himself.

“So we all didn’t get along then, huh?,” Sam asked. Dean’s brows raised suddenly, “Well- Nope” He replied bluntly, shaking his head. Y/N sat down next to him on the bed. “At all?” She asked, raising a suspicious brow. “Yeah nope” He chuckled dryly, lying through his pearly white teeth, taking another sip of the drink.

“Man, I couldn’t imagine us not getting along” Sam muttered, the look of disbelief on his face matched the other two. “I thought it was supposed to be this perfect fantasy” Y/N sighed, crossing one leg over another. “It wasn’t- It was just a wish” Dean cut her off, his eyes trained on his tea.

“Yeah, I wished for Mom and M/N to live. If they never died, F/N would’ve never told dad about hunting. And we all just never…uh…you know” Dean said sadly. The other three had frowns on their faces, feeling the pain they all could relate to in him. It was a hard life they led, full of loss and suffering, they all felt it.

“Well I’m glad we do” Sam said, “And I’m glad you dug yourself out Dean” Jo added, both meaning their heartfelt words. “Dean,” Y/N said quietly, placing her hand on his leg. “Most people wouldn’t have had the strength. They would’ve just stayed.” She assured him.

Dean lifted his gaze from the tea, meeting Y/N’s comforting eyes. “Yeah, well. Lucky me” He replied with a small dry smile, his eyes scanning her face. Dean’s eyes flickered over to Jo and Sam, both were staring at each other deeply. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I gotta tell you though, Sammy. You had Jess, you were gonna give mom grandkids. And Y/N…your dad was alive and you were gonna get married to Xander” Dean lied.

Sam’s head snapped up, an uncomfortable look instantly appeared on his face. “Yeah,” He replied awkwardly, rubbing his face. This wasn’t exactly a topic he enjoyed talking about. A frown set on Jo’s face, she knew about what happened to Jess after Sam gave her a deep dive of his life and she did the same with him.

Y/N saw the frown appear Jo’s face, immediately coming to her defense. “Yeah, but, Dean, it wasn’t real. Nothing that happened in your head was real, nor will it ever be” Y/N told him gently. Dean paused for a minute, feeling as though he had been shot for a third time.

His heart was practically ripped from his chest at her words. Dean clenched his jaw, “I know….but I wanted to stay.” He confessed gruffly before gulping down a mouthful of tea. His eyes glanced down at Y/N’s stomach, memories of the Djinn’s world were still fresh in his head. “I wanted to stay so bad. I mean, ever since F/N and Dad….all I could- all I could think about is how much this job’s cost us”

“We have all lost so much..w-we have sacrificed so much” All three of them stared at Dean, surprised at his confession. “We know,” Y/N affirmed gently, her eyes staring at him with a mix of understanding and sadness. Sam nodded in agreement, the pain and suffering was something they all had. “But people are alive because of you. It’s worth it, Dean” Sam countered.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “It is, man. And- it’s not fair. And- you know- it hurts like hell” Jo chimed in, scoffing dryly. “But like Sam said, it’s worth it” She assured him. “And you’ve got us” Y/N reminded him softly. All three hunter’s eyes were on him, their faces were sincere.

Dean swallowed deeply, his eyes glanced back down at his tea. A small part of him wished he was still in the dream. Y/N nudged him gently, “Hey” She whispered, bringing up her pinky. “I pinky promise” She smiled softly.

A small smile cracked on the corner of his mouth, a small chuckle left his lips. Dean gently raised his hand and linked his pinky with hers. “There, you can’t break a pinky promise” She winked, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

____________________________________________

Authors Note: “yOu CaNt BrEaK a PiNkY pRoMiSe” oh sweet summer child, just you wait until the next episode💀 (as someone who takes pinky promises very seriously, I’m already in tears)

ANYWAYS, did I break your heart? Did I make things better? Or are you plotting my demise?😂😂😂

I hope everyone loves this one! Be sure to tell me what you loved or what you hated, I can’t wait to hear your feedback🥰

Thanks for reading and have an amazing day loves!

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258

Xoxo

79 notes · View notes

neverwanttofallasleep · 1 year ago

Text

I Never Want To Fall Asleep - Chapter 2

Word count: 6,800

For pairings, warnings, and disclaimer - see Masterpost

Friday, December 16th, 2022

Manchester, England to London, England

You finally wake up to the chime of your third alarm, ringing out loudly into the dark hotel room. 6.35am. You’ve always struggled with waking up early, especially after a show night.

You groan, rolling over to silence your phone. You reach your arm back to pat the space next to you, knowing Jake is just as heavy a sleeper and usually requires an in-person wake up call, only to find the right side of the large bed empty.

Suddenly the memory of last night rushes back to you, and you jolt upright. As you slowly return to full consciousness, you become aware of the puffy tightness around your eyes and the ache in your chest. No doubt the residual evidence of crying yourself to sleep.

After Jake had stormed back down the hotel corridor to the elevator, you’d scrambled to find your room key and shut yourself in as quickly as you could manage.

You’d thrown your bags down onto the leather armchair in the corner of the room, fighting back tears, suddenly more angry than upset at his outburst. You hadn’t deserved that. If you felt guilty, so should he. It was his relationship at stake, not yours. You hadn’t made it up in your head, you knew there was something between the two of you, something that had your stomach in knots every time you were around him.

You’d sunken down onto the scratchy hotel carpet, each emotion hitting you like a brick. This job, this tour, it meant so much to you. You loved the work, and the music, getting to travel the world and seeing new cities each day. You’d truly been living your dream. But at the centre of it all, there was Jake. From the moment he’d first spoken to you at that crew party, you’d felt drawn to him. Like your centre of gravity had shifted. Every exciting moment you’d had while you’d been on the road, every new experience, it was all made better when you could share it with him.

You’d hugged your knees to your chest, finally allowing yourself to choke out the sobs you’d been holding in since he’d raised his voice at you. What did this all mean? You couldn’t continue this friendship as it had been. To be totally honest, in that moment, you weren’t even sure if he wanted to. But you’d known, whatever had occurred tonight, it couldn’t happen again. You were so embarrassed that you’d told him your relationship had felt like more than friendship to you. You knew he couldn’t possibly feel that way about you, he had Lily. Whatever these feelings were, they were yours, and yours alone. You couldn’t let yourself feel that way. He was off limits for you, and if that meant sacrificing your friendship, then so be it.

You’d sat there on the floor, switching between crying, sucking in sharp breaths, and just sitting in silence with your head resting on your knees, for what felt like hours. When you’d finally pulled out your phone, you saw a notification on your lock screen. 1 new text. Quietly hoping for a message from him, you’d swiped it open, only to find a reply from the dry-cleaner.

12.10am Pete M (GVF dry cleaner): No worries, Y/N. Britannia Hotel, yes? Text me your room number - see you at 7.

Shit. The jumpsuit. You quickly replied with the details and locked your phone.

1.33am. You still had work to do, and as much as you wanted to crawl into bed and sleep forever, you knew that the show must go on.

You'd gotten up slowly, stretching out your arms and legs from sitting for so long. You trudged toward the small bathroom, only glancing at yourself in the mirror briefly before reaching in to turn on the shower. The back of your neck was still sticky and you could smell the reek of tequila in your hair and clothes as you stripped them off.

You’d climbed into the shower and hissed when the too-hot water hit your shoulders, but you didn’t mind. You needed it to wake you up, and draw the tension from your muscles. You stood under the spray for a while, splashing your face, hoping to remove some of the redness from your eyes. You’d scrubbed your arms and legs, quickly washing your hair, and when you felt sufficiently clean, you reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out.

After wrapping your hair in a fluffy hotel towel and throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of underwear, you grabbed your back-pack and tote from the chair and sat yourself up in bed to do your mending.

It didn’t take long, it was just a small tear in the chiffon, right on the seam of the arm and shoulder. After 20 minutes or so, you were happy with your work, your fingers a little sore from hand stitching, and you decided you were done for the night.

You knew with a night off tomorrow in London you’d have plenty of time to prepare the clean clothes once Pete returned them, and your one urgent job was now complete. You were satisfied that the mundane work had taken your mind off of Jake, for the time being.

You’d hung up Josh’s jumpsuit on a wire hanger on the back of the door, repacking your sewing supplies and your empty tote into your back-pack, placing them back near your duffle bag, where you’d dumped your jeans and crew t-shirt from the day. You turned off the overhead light, crawling back into the soft bed. You’d wished that Jake had been there with you. You missed the comfort of a warm body next to you, the familiar sound of his breathing when he inevitably fell asleep before you, and the way he would drape his arm over your waist in the middle of the night.

You’d sighed, reaching up to flick off the bedside lamp, setting your alarms and burrowing down under the covers. In the silence, it took you a while to get to sleep, Jake’s sad expression painted on the inside of your eyelids. But when sleep finally found you, you slept like the dead.

Now, you draw the curtains, the sun not yet having begun to rise over the sprawling, grey city. Yesterday, Manchester had seemed full of possibility. This morning, the dark sky and buildings leeched of colour in the moonlight mirror your mood. You walk over to the small dresser opposite the bed, flicking on the electric kettle. Tea will have to do this morning, you’re over the instant coffee packets you’ve been finding in UK hotels. As the kettle boils, you make your way to the bathroom, running a brush through your sleep-dried hair and pulling it up into a messy bun.

You pack away the remainder of your toiletries, washing your face, rolling on some deodorant and applying some SPF and mascara before zipping up the bag and stowing it back in your duffle. You pull out a casual outfit, just some comfy linen pants and a green sweater, stripping your pyjamas and tossing them into the bag before zipping it closed.

You get dressed leisurely, having given yourself an extra buffer of time. You kind of regret this, as it gives you more minutes to stew over the events of the night before. Once you’ve donned your boots, you lay out your coat and scarf on the bed, ready to brave the December chill of the city in less than half an hour. You check your phone for the time. 6.54am. Pete will be here in a few minutes. You brew your tea, giving Josh’s jumpsuit a final once over as you let the teabag steep. You’re a little proud of your handiwork, considering your emotional state.

As you’re topping up your tea with one of those little plastic packets of milk, there’s a quiet knock at the door. You open it and greet Pete good morning.

“Cold this morning.” He grumbles.

You chuckle, retrieving the garment from the hook and handing it to him.

“Sure is. See you in London!”

He gives a gruff wave and heads back down the hallway.

After you’ve had your tea and sufficient time to panic over how things will go with Jake today, you bundle up in your warm clothes, pack your final items into your purse and make your way down to the hotel lobby.

When you make it out the front entrance, it’s still dark, and the chill bites your cheeks immediately. You beeline for the crew bus. Jake usually makes space for you on one of the sleeper buses with him and the band, but you don’t feel like you’ll be welcome there today.

As you’re loading your bags into the back of the mini-bus, Sam and Lennon catch you as they’re heading out into the porte-cochere.

“Morning, Y/N!” Lennon chirps. She looks undeniably sprightly this morning, especially when standing next to Sammy, who looks like he’s about to fall flat on his face at any moment, gripping tightly to a paper cup of what you assume to be coffee. It doesn’t even look like his eyes have fully opened yet.

You give them a small wave and turn back to loading your belongings.

She gives Sam a pat on shoulder, which makes him wince, before bounding over to you.

“We’re sharing the bus with Jake today, Danny and Josh are gonna take the other one. So we can catch up!” She giggles excitedly. “Sammy’s not feeling too flash - I can’t imagine Jake is either, to be honest, after the amount those two drank last night.” She’s laughing as she says this, but it makes your stomach drop. It doesn’t take much to piece together why Jake would’ve wanted to get shitfaced last night. “But, I reckon they’ll sleep the whole trip, which is perfect ‘cause I just wanna hang out with you!”

You shake your head, unsure how to navigate this. Would Jake want them all to know what happened between the two of you last night? You assumed he’d go right to Sam’s room to have a bitch about it, but given Lennon’s assumption that you’d be riding on his bus, it sounds like he didn’t.

“I dunno. I’m not feeling 100% today.” It’s not totally a lie, your head is swimming with anxiety. “I might ride on the crew bus so I can take a nap.”

She scoffs. “Don’t be silly, hon! The boys aren’t feeling good either, and you’d be much more comfy on one of the bunks if you want to nap. As long as we get to ride together - you can sleep the whole trip if you need to! I’ve got some reading to catch up on anyway.” You close up the trunk of the mini bus, but not before she snags your purse and throws it over her shoulder. She puts her arm around you, turning and leading you both toward the first of the two giant, black buses.

You haven’t seen any sign of Jake yet, which is good, but at the same time also kind of unsettling. You’re wondering what kind of state he’ll be in this morning, but if Sammy is any indication, it won’t be good. Jake is always in a shitty mood when he’s got a hangover.

Lennon leads you up the stairs onto the bus, where Sam is already sprawled across the small sofa in the front compartment. As you walk through, he groans loudly and throws his arm across his eyes.

Lennon sighs, reaching down to brush some hair from his forehead.

“Drama queen.” She mutters.

He peeks his eyes out. “Wrong brother.” He retorts. “Josh is the drama queen.”

“Seems it runs in the family.” She chides.

He huffs and covers his eyes again.

You situate yourself at the small table across the way from the sofa, pulling your knitting out of your purse. You’ve always been one to hand-make gifts, and you’d been knitting small things for the boys in the band for Christmas presents. Luckily you’d already finished Jake’s, and it was stowed away safely in your duffle, not to be thought about. You were working on a chunky purple and navy scarf for Danny, and you were about a third of the way into it.

Lennon slides into the bench seat opposite you.

“That’s gorgeous. Who’s it for?”

You smile at your work. “Danny. It’s a Christmas gift. These are his colours, I think.”

She grins, running her hand over the soft wool. “Definitely.” She hums. “I need coffee.”

Sam perks up at this. “There’s a hot water urn under the sink.” He points to the little kitchenette behind the driver’s seat. “And a French press too. And coffee grounds, I think.”

Lennon rolls her eyes and gets up.

She gestures her chin at you. “You want one?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I’d kill for a real coffee after what we’ve been having here.”

She giggles. “Amen to that!”

As Lennon starts to prepare the necessary items for coffee, you hear boots clacking up the bus steps. You’d know the sound of those footsteps anywhere.

“Back from the dead!” Lennon greets him with a grin. “Good morning, Jake.”

“Yeah, ‘morning.” He nods at her. He smiles when he sees his brother napping on the couch. “You look about as good as I feel, Sammy.”

Sam chuckles from under his arm. “Well, you said it. At least we don’t have to drive.”

Jake looks like he’s about to reply with some quip, when he spots you sitting at the table behind Lennon.

“Uh, I’m going back to sleep.” He says quickly.

He makes a small noise of acknowledgement toward you, which sounds a lot like a grunt, and then brushes past and draws the curtain to the bunk compartment.

You aren’t quite sure what you were expecting from him today, but you guess avoidance is better than confrontation. It still stings though. If this had been yesterday morning, he might have slid into the booth next to you.

He might’ve admired your knitting, telling you how impressed he was at how much you’d managed to complete in the past 24 hours. He might have teased you, asking what you were gonna make for his gift, because you’d been so sneaky about hiding it from him. He might have slung his arm around the back of the bench seat while you both gratefully accepted your steaming mugs of coffee from Lennon, occasionally letting his finger tips brush over your shoulder with the movement of the bus. He might have moved to the couch when Sammy finally retired to the bunks, pulling out his acoustic and strumming a private show for you and Lennon. You loved watching him when the music would just come to him. Like he was channeling it from some higher power. He could just play and play and play, tuning out the world, glancing at you every so often just to catch you staring.

Instead, you thank Lennon as she places a single mug of coffee on the small table, and goes over to sit on the couch with Sam’s head in her lap.

About an hour in, when you’ve done a sufficient amount of knitting and downed two coffees, the 4 hours of sleep you’ve had is starting to creep up on you.

Lennon catches you, unable to keep your eyes open.

“Oh, hon, you do look exhausted. Go have a lie down in the bunks. It’ll make the ride go so much faster.”

You smile at her appreciatively, but realise this would mean having to interact with Jake, or at the very least, invade his space.

“I’m alright. I’ll lay on the couch if Sammy moves to the bunks.”

Sam grunts. “Not moving. M’comfy here.”

Lennon laughs, picking up his head and placing it on a cushion so she can get up from her spot.

“C’mon, girl. You need your beauty rest. You’ve got a job to do here too, don’t you forget.”

She’s right, and you realise you won’t get any work done today if you don’t sleep. You’ll just crash as soon as you get the hotel.

She helps you pack your knitting back into your purse and ushers you down the hall. At this moment, you really wish this was one of those buses with a private double bed at the rear. At least then, you could rest assured Jake would’ve taken it, and you could take one of the bunks without fear of running into him. Instead, this one just has a tiny bathroom at the back with a toilet and shower, but only 4 beds, 2 bunks on either side of the walkway.

Lennon pulls back the curtain and then draws it closed behind you as you step into the small space. You can hear small snores coming from the bed Jake has claimed, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You won’t actually have to speak to him. Just fear his wrath if he wakes up and sees you across the way.

They are small bunks, but comfortable enough, especially with how sleepy you are. You place your bag and coat on the top bunk, sitting down on the bottom one to pull off your boots. You place them delicately under the bed, careful not to make any noise. You stand again to grab your headphones from your purse, when your phone slips out of your pocket and clatters to the floor.

“Fuck.” You mutter.

“What the fuck was that?” Jake groans, eyes still closed.

“Sorry, dropped my phone.” His eyes shoot open when he realises it’s you standing in front of him.

“Right.” He says quietly. “Uh, why are you in here?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You cringe a bit at the confession, knowing he’s the reason you slept so poorly. “Lennon forced me to come in here and take a nap because I couldn’t keep my eyes open.” You know you’re rambling, but you don’t know how to navigate this situation. “Sorry if you don’t want me in here, it’s just that, Sam’s taken up the couch and there’s no other beds.” You’ve never had any type of bad energy with Jake, not even a disagreement. This is new territory for both of you.

He sighs. “Ok. Keep it down, please.” He rolls over to face the wall, tucking the blanket up over his ears.

You slide into the small bed, pulling the blanket up around you, and place your headphones over your ears. You unlock your phone to choose some music to help you sleep. You almost always listen to music to fall asleep. You’ve done it ever since you were a kid. You’ve tried white noise, sleep-casts, rain sounds, but nothing puts you to sleep quite like your favourite songs.

The only time you don’t, is when you have someone sleeping next to you. The sound of their breathing is just as good. Stella snored like a chainsaw, and you’d secretly loved it. The reassurance of knowing she was there had always relaxed you. This was also especially true for Jake. He’s broad, and warm like a space heater, and breathes heavily through his nose. It was so comforting.

Right now, though, knowing how he’s feeling about you, you can’t stand to hear him, or even acknowledge the fact that he’s less than 4 feet away from you.

You put on ‘Line of Fire’ by Junip, turn to face the wall, and quickly fall asleep.

You wake up to the sound of laughter, it sounds like Sammy. You groan and stretch, your limbs tight from the cramped space. You’ve rolled over in your sleep, your headphones have slid down around your neck, and when you open your eyes, you see Jake’s empty bunk across from you.

You hear laughing again, louder this time, and you can hear Jake laughing, too.

Fuck.

You can’t go out there, you’ll ruin his mood.

You’re beginning to feel guilty about your conversation last night. You know he overreacted. He didn’t have any right to go off at you like that. But, you keep reminding yourself, it’s not his fault that you have feelings for him. And maybe, he really did have no idea until last night. Maybe that spark you feel between the two of you, just isn’t there for him. What he said about you being only a friend to him, it had to be true, right? Otherwise what reason would he have had to get so mad?

Plus, it’s his tour. His band, his family. Like you said last night. You’re his employee. Friendship aside, it would be inappropriate for you to treat him any differently than you did yesterday, or any of the days before. You’ve gotta keep it professional and put his feelings first, and your emotional involvement aside.

You realise you really have to pee, so you quietly climb up from the bunk and head to the small bathroom. When you wash your hands, you splash your face with some water, trying to revive yourself. You swipe under your eyes with some paper towel to remove your running mascara, and re-do your bun. You look fine. No one cares, anyway.

When you open the door to head back to your bunk, Sam has drawn the curtains in the walkway.

“Good morning, princess! How’d you sleep?”

“Oh, yeah. Not too bad. As well as one can in these beds.” You smile ruefully. “What time is it? How long have we got left?”

“Almost there! Like half an hour, they reckon.” He seems much more alive than earlier. “Come join, we’re having a celebratory hair of the dog.”

Ah, they’re drinking again. That must be what’s got both Sam and Jake in such good spirits.

You sigh. “Nah, I think I’m good. I’ve got work to do when we get to London, unlike you lot. I might just sit in here a bit longer.”

Sammy whines. “Come onnnnn, Y/N! We’re having fun! Plus, Lennon missed you so much. Spend some time with her before I whisk her away to the next hotel room.”

You concede, nodding your head, and follow Sam out to the main compartment.

Lennon is sitting in the booth, and Sam slides in opposite her. This leaves the other seat on the couch as the only free one.

Next to Jake.

You sit down, leaving as much space as you can between the two of you.

You’ve come to the decision that you’re not upset with him. You’re upset that you might be losing your friend, and you’re kind of pissed off that he’s not acknowledging you, even now as he and Sam banter over their vodka sodas, and Lennon leans over to you every few minutes, asking to be caught up on the inside jokes. You’re annoyed that he was so angry last night, and didn’t give you a chance to have a real conversation about things.

But you’re not upset with him. You’re scared of your own feelings, and you wonder even if things between you are repairable, whether you should bother at all.

You glance over to him every few minutes, and a couple of times you catch him looking at you, too. He doesn’t deliberately exclude you from the conversation, but if you had to guess, he was probably just trying not to rouse suspicion from the others. He never speaks to you directly, and you feel your heart fracturing just a little bit more.

When you arrive at the hotel in London, you disembark the bus as quickly as you can, keen to get away from the awkwardness you’ve endured for the last 40 minutes. It’s a little warmer here than it was in Manchester, but not by much. You head over to the mini-bus, which has beaten you all there significantly, your bags being the last to be unloaded.

You grab your things, and head into the lobby to retrieve your room key.

The band and crew are standing in a loose circle around the elevators, waiting for Craig, the tour manager, to provide the necessary information required for your stay in London. It’s about midday now, and you’ll be here for two nights total, with a show at the Alexandra Palace tomorrow.

Only two more nights, then back home. You can get through two nights.

Josh comes up by your side, slinging an arm around you.

“How was the ride?” He asks, chewing on a granola bar.

You muster as much of a smile as you can manage. “Oh, yeah. Nothing to report, really. I slept most of the way. Needed to catch up.”

He chuckles. “Well, we need you in ship-shape for the next couple’a days, so I for one am glad to hear it!”

You gather Jake hasn’t spoken to him, either.

“What are your plans for the holidays, Y/N? I keep meaning to ask you.”

“Not much, to be honest. Gonna spend them in New York. Got a few college friends I’ve been meaning to catch up with, and the tour will provide lodgings for the crew that’s staying in the city, so I figure I might as well, you know?” You try to keep yourself from sounding unenthusiastic, but it’s not really anything special.

“Aw, well, that sounds nice. At least you’ll get to have a White Christmas, hey?” He begins to hum Bing Crosby in your ear, and you giggle.

“Exactly. Might go see the ball drop. I’ve never been in person. Never wanted to brave the crowds.”

“Sound lovely.” He grins.

Craig starts calling out departments, names and room numbers as people meander about the foyer.

“Alright, wardrobe. Y/N - you’re in room 528.”

You walk up to collect your cards and head back to Josh.

“Did you get yours yet?” You ask him.

“Yeah, 419. Same floor as Sam and Lennon. Danny, too, I think.” You love that Josh is an over sharer. You’re trying to scope out if you’ll be running into Jake.

“Any idea about Jake?” You ask casually. It wouldn’t be suspicious for you to want to know where he was staying, considering everyone on tour knew of your friendship. Perhaps only a little suspicious that you’d be asking Josh instead of Jake himself, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Floor 5, I’m pretty sure.” You feel your gut sink.

“Sweet.” You mumble.

You wait back in the lobby for a bit, hoping not to run into him. You find Freddie and Julie, relieved to see some familiar, friendly faces.

“Holy shit, that mini-bus driver was a manic. Being on the wrong side of the road is bad enough, but he was going so fucking fast I thought we were gonna die.” Julie gushes to you.

Freddie laughs. “God, yeah. It was terrifying. But we had a good karaoke sesh, Y/N. Lots of Taylor Swift. You should’ve joined! I thought when you were putting your bags in the trunk, you must’ve been riding with us.”

You smile apologetically. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’d planned to, but Lennon wanted to catch up, so I rode with Jake and Sam.”

“Fuckin’ Jake.” Julie grumbles. “He’s always stealing you away from us. Just ‘cause you’re a pretty girl and he’s a rockstar. It’s not fair.”

You try to keep your laugh light. “Sorry! Next time, I promise. Once we’re back home.” You squeeze her hand. “I’d love to hear you belting some Love Story, Freddie.”

He laughs. “Nah, Shake It Off is my jam. Killed it this morning. Woke Tom up from his nap. Worth it, I reckon.” You all laugh.

You look around and see the lobby has mostly cleared, so you gesture to them to follow you to the elevators.

“What floor are you guys?”

Julie checks her card. “6. Freddie?”

“Yeah, same. I think most of the crew are on 5 or 6. You?”

You sigh. “5.” He presses the button for you.

Of course, no one you knew was on the same floor as you. Except for Jake.

There are roughly 38 crew on the tour, including the band, plus some friends and family that have joined for this leg. About 45 rooms are booked. And out of everyone, yours and Jake’s just happen to be so close.

Yesterday, that would’ve made you happy. Would’ve been easier for you to sneak into his room tonight when you got done with your work, without the teasing comments from his brothers or your friends.

Alas, things rarely work out as you plan them.

You unpack your things onto the nightstand and bathroom counter, doing a quick check of the mini-bar to find, yet again, instant coffee. You groan.

Ah, well. Could be worse. At least there was some champagne.

You decide to take a shower after the bus ride, feeling grimy and still a bit achy from the small bed.

When you’re done and re-dressed in some sweats, you get a phone call from Pete telling you the first round of cleaning is done and ready to be collected. You know you’ve got some sequins to fix for Danny, so you slide on your slippers and a sweatshirt, and head down to the lobby to meet Pete.

As you wait, you contemplate texting Jake. After the bus, you wonder if maybe he’s waiting for you to say something. What exactly you’d say, you have no idea.

Before you can even open the message thread, Pete shuffles into the hotel, a clothing rack of black garment bags in tow. One of the bellboys tries to offer him a hand, but he waves them off.

You love Pete. He’s a grumpy old bastard, but he’s got a soft spot for you. He understands your dedication to your craft, and he often tells you that you remind him of his mother, who was a seamstress in LA in the 50’s and 60’s.

He reaches you, pulling the receipt from his pocket. “All sorted, love. I’ve already sent the invoice to Craig, but this has the inventory on it.” He puts it in your palm. “The next lot is on the truck being cleaned now, should be done by supper time.” He grumbles a little. “Some of it will need an extra iron. This cleaning van we’ve hired is rubbish. Tools don’t work so well. Can’t wait to get back home to old faithful.”

You smile warmly at him as he hands you the rack, nodding. “Thanks so much, Pete. You’re a star. Those boys would never be dressed without you.”

He laughs. “Well, a rock’n’roll band playing a show stark naked. People wouldn’t have bat an eyelid, back in my day.”

You giggle. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Well, missy, I bet you would.”

You blush. “Thanks, again. You can just load the rest of it straight back into the trunks, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“No worries, Y/N. Don’t work too hard.”

You wave him off as he heads back out to the loading dock, where the cleaning van is parked.

You check the receipt as you roll the rack into the elevator, scanning for Danny’s cape. It’s on there - thank God. That one will probably take you the most time this afternoon. The rest of your prep is mostly ironing and steaming, which you’ll do tomorrow morning before you have to load in to the venue.

As you go to press the button for your floor, a hand slides between the doors and they reopen. You glance up, and see Jake looking back at you. He steps in.

“Oh, sorry.” You mutter. The rack is taking up a lot of space.

“It’s fine. What, uh, what floor are you?” He asks.

“5.” You say quietly.

“Perfect.” He mutters.

The ride is quiet, one person gets in on floor 2 and out again at 4.

As the doors close, you decide to break the tension.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

He sighs. “Is there anything to talk about?”

You feel a pang of hurt at his words. “I don’t know, is there? We went from being best pals yesterday, to not talking at all today.” You sigh. “Guess I just want to know where we stand.”

The doors open and he steps out into the hallway, holding the door for you to wheel the rack out.

He runs a hand through his hair and replaces his sunglasses on his head. “You made it pretty clear, Y/N. You think we’re too co-dependant. Y’know, I thought giving you space would be the right thing to do.”

You frown. “And what about the fact that you practically blew up at me, swearing in my face?”

He sighs. “Yeah, dunno. Guess you kind of caught me off guard.”

Right. No apology.

“Okay, Jake. No worries.” You turn and walk down toward your room. As you stop to unlock your door, you turn back, and see him looking back too. He’s at his door, just on the other side of the elevator. He quickly glances away and disappears into his room.

As you step into yours and wheel the rack into the corner, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, realising the sweatshirt you’ve chosen.

It’s Jake’s.

You busy yourself with sequining, deciding it makes more sense just to pull all the old ones out and re-do them, which ends up taking you all afternoon and evening. At about 9.30pm, you realise all you’ve eaten today was a gas station sandwich Lennon picked up for you while you were asleep on the bus.

She texted you a couple of times earlier, letting you know that her, the boys and some of the crew were heading out into town for a drink, asking if you’d like to join. You’d politely declined, stating you had far too much work to do.

When you’re finally done sequining, you realise that you do need to eat some food, and you want to stretch your legs, so you wander down to the lobby to see if you can get anything from the restaurant.

You head straight to the counter, where a young waiter in all white is standing, counting receipts.

You smile at him. “Hey, the kitchen doesn’t happen to still be open, does it?”

He grins. “You’re in luck, ma’am. We’re just about to close but we had a couple of late comers tonight. What can I get you?”

You order some French fries and a side salad, and he offers to have it brought up to your room. You give him your room number and the details of the tour to charge it to, and head back upstairs with a wave.

This is a beautiful old hotel, with a huge staircase at the centre of the lobby up to the first floor. You decide to walk it, get some much needed blood flowing into your legs, and catch the elevator from there.

Once you finally make it back to your floor, you step out and make to turn toward your room, when you hear a grunt behind you. You turn to see Jake, fumbling with his keycard, sunglasses low on his nose. He looks up and spots you.

“Y/N! Help me, please. Can’t get into my room.” He grins at you sheepishly, the hard exterior he’s been putting up all day completely gone.

You think it over for a second. You can see from here that’s he beyond drunk, and you feel sorry for him. If it was yesterday, you wouldn’t have hesitated.

You sigh and head over to where he’s just dropped his wallet and phone on the ground and is struggling to pick them back up.

Once he’s upright again, you see that he’s grinning at you, eyes following you, staring even.

You hold out your hand for the keycard and he hands it to you.

“Thanks. Couldn’t get it to work.” He slurs.

“Had a big night, hey?” You ask as you tap the key card and swing the door open.

He laughs. “Was that easy, huh? I must’ve had a big one.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, judging by the fact you’re back here and looking pretty rough before 11pm, I’d say so.”

If you didn’t know him better, you could’ve sworn he blushed at that.

He sits down on the bed and you place his key on the nightstand.

You head for the door.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You turn, eyebrows raised.

“Can you stay for a minute? I, uh, I need some help.” He gestures to his shoes, embarrassed.

You huff. “Really, Jake? They don’t even have laces.”

He frowns. “I know that. Can’t feel my fingers at the moment. Wouldn’t be able to get the zippers. I’d just end up sleeping with them on.” He giggles.

You walk back over to the foot of the bed. He’s leaning back on his elbows, ankles extended toward you. You kneel down on the floor, unzipping his boots and placing them neatly on the floor next to the bedpost.

You remove his socks for good measure, and he hums as you place his feet back on the floor.

“Thank you.” He murmurs.

“It’s all good.” You reply. You stand up and take a step back, placing his socks on the dresser. “You gonna be alright now?”

He sits up, staring at you again. He just stays there for a few moments, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Finally, he speaks. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

It takes you a second to process what he’s said, and even with his drunken slur, the words make your stomach flip. He’s called you pretty before, in one of his many attempts to get you flustered. This feels different. More… intense, somehow. You think about how you look right now, slippers and sweatpants, still wearing his sweatshirt from earlier, glasses on from sewing, hair air dried and hanging over your shoulders. You certainly don’t feel beautiful.

“You don’t mean that. You’re drunk.”

He hums. “I do mean it. Love looking at you, y’know.”

Your head clears, and you realise you need to take this for what it is. Drunken rambling.

“Okay, Jake. You need to go to sleep. Have you eaten?”

He waves you off. “Yeah, yeah. Had dinner out.”

“Alright. Hop into bed. I’ll turn the lights off when you’re in and then I’m going back to my room.”

He scoots back up the bed, fishing the covers out from underneath him and cocooning himself. He’s still fully dressed, but you’re not about to offer to help him with that.

“You got an alarm set?” You ask him.

“Ah, yeah, think I do.” He digs his wallet and phone out from his pocket and from under the blankets to hand them to you. You place his wallet on the nightstand with his room key and plug in his phone, seeing the little alarm icon on the lock screen.

“Yeah, you do. 9am.”

You put the phone down and flick off the lamp, walking around the bed to get the other one.

You make a spur of the moment decision to grab him some water from the bathroom before you go. As you’re returning to the bedroom, you hear him from under his cocoon.

“Please don’t go.”

You sigh, placing the water next to the bed. “I have to. I’ve got work to finish.” You lie. “And you and I aren’t really on the best of terms right now. I don’t think sober you would want me here.”

He rolls over and frowns at you. “I would. Slept so badly last night without you. Got drunk, still couldn’t get comfortable.” You don’t say anything, so he tries again. “You said you slept badly too. You’ll sleep better in here, with me.”

You feel the same pang of warmth in your tummy before you scold yourself. He’s drunk. He already told you how he feels. You can’t let yourself feel anything more.

“Sorry. I gotta go.”

He grumbles again, and you switch off the lamp and make your way out.

When you get back to your room, the silver tray and cloche are sitting on the floor by your door. You pick it up and make your way inside. You sit quietly for a bit, picking at the cold fries, sipping directly from a mini-bottle of champagne.

You ready yourself for bed, putting on some music and snuggling down under the blankets.

As you close your eyes, you think about how he was right.

You would’ve slept much better next to him.

Chapter 3

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet

54 notes · View notes