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roanofarcc · 6 months ago

Text

THE ONE

pairing. alive!reader x trevor lefkowitz

summary. (requested) It would have been fun if you would’ve been the one.”

warnings. g!n reader, mentions of death, feelings of unrequited love, not proof read

word count. 3.3k || masterlist

The boredom of the mansion was quelled the second a new guest arrived to check into the B&B. Trevor shot up from his spot on the couch and followed the group of ghosts out of the living to the front desk where Sam and Jay stood, happily conversing with the guest. For a moment, Trevor was excited to see what the guest looked like; as a ghost, he had to take what he could get. His love life had fallen to shambles and the only thrill he got anymore was ogling attractive guests as they arrived.

However, when the guest had turned around for a moment to pick up their duffle bag from the floor, Trevor felt a quick flood of emotions enter his body. He stopped short of the desk with his throat suddenly dry and hands clammy.

“Are you in the area for business or a little vacation?” Sam asked, making her usual small talk.

You pushed the duffle bag over your shoulder and cleared your throat. “Uh, neither.” Your voice was different than Trevor remembered, older and a little deeper than it had been, which made sense. You were older but still the same height you were in high school. Maturity was written across your features, but he still saw the remnants of your youth that he had once memorized.

Maybe he was dreaming. He had dreamed of you before, both before and after he died. In college, he had thought about calling you every time your birthday rolled around or when one of his friends said something funny that he knew would’ve made you laugh. But every time he chickened out, figuring you still hated him. Instead, he saw you in his dreams like some embarrassing rom-com where you came back together when you were a little older and he was less of an idiot. Then he died and he dreamed of all of the things he would have done differently if he had a redo button. But he genuinely thought he’d never see you again. When you hadn’t come to the memorial his parents put on for him, he knew his dreams were pointless. His parents hadn’t even mentioned you, meaning you were probably well moved on and married or something.

“This might sound weird,” you continued, smiling sheepishly. “But you actually held a memorial for my…friend a couple of months ago. Trevor Lefkowitz.” The ghosts all snapped their heads in his direction but all Trevor could get himself to do was stare at you. Something about the way you hesitated before calling him your friend made his stomach ache.

Sam’s eyes widened as she looked at Trevor too for a moment. “O-Oh! Yes. We did. Trevor. You knew him?”

“Yeah and I wanted to come but I thought it would’ve been weird. I wasn’t close with him when he died. We were friends when we were kids. But the more I thought about it, the worse I felt about not coming. So I figured I’d pay my respects. That and when I visited his parents they wouldn’t stop talking about this place.”

He snapped out of his daze and stepped forward, standing beside Jay and getting a better look at you. He felt bad about it, but the first thing he did was look at your left hand. You didn’t wear any rings and while he knew it was so stupid, he felt relieved.

“Sam,” Trevor said quickly. “You gotta talk to them. Please.” He couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice.

Sam obliged with a nod of her head that was directed at him. “If you would like to, after you get settled in, you could tell us about him. Trevor. I mean, after we got his parents' side of who he was, Jay and I have been interested in what he was like to his friends.”

Jay furrowed his brows. “We have?” Sam shot him a look that he understood right away. “Ohhh. Yeah, we have. For sure.”

You thought about it for a moment, fiddling with a room key in your hand. “That would be nice,” you said.

“No pants wants you to talk to them?” Jay said after they all were gathered in the kitchen, waiting for you to finish getting settled into your room. Jay worked on making lunch while Sam put on the kettle for tea. Trevor sat at the table feeling too many things at once. It was one thing seeing his parents. They were his parents and they loved him no matter his screw-ups. But you were under no obligation to forgive him. In fact, he figured you’d be mad at him forever and he’d spend life and death regretting his choices. Yet, you wanted to talk to some stranger about him?

Sam sighed, taking the seat across from him. “Yes,” she replied to Jay. “For a childhood friend, you don’t look too happy to see them.”

“No, that’s not it,” Trevor said, sinking into his chair. “I messed things up with them, big time, before I left for college. I don’t know why they’d want to pay their respects to me after all these years.”

It wasn’t too often he garnered looks of sympathy from Sam or the ghosts. The only other time was when his parents came and he learned he was a child of divorce. All he wanted to do was hug his mom, but he couldn’t and he felt like a little kid lost in a grocery store. Alberta hugged him instead, which was not quite the same but close enough.

“What’d you do?” Sasappis asked.

It was more about what Trevor didn’t do. He didn’t tell you he reciprocated your feelings after you confessed the night before you both moved away to different colleges. At the time he didn’t want to be held back by his hometown; he wanted a fresh start to be someone else. It was stupid in hindsight because he didn’t change that much in college, he learned to like the person he was, quirks and all. And he didn’t realize that you didn’t hold him back, you made him better. But by the time he figured all of that out, he heard you had some boyfriend and moved across the country. He missed his chance and figured you hated him.

“Hi.” You poked your head into the kitchen and Trevor sank down further into the chair. He felt guilty, hot and festering in his veins even though there was no blood in his body.

Sam turned around in her chair. “Hey. Take a seat. Jay, can you pour the tea?”

With a nod, Jay made the tea while you took the seat beside Sam as you observed the kitchen, unaware it was occupied by a series of curious ghosts and Trevor.

“So, you still talk to Trevor’s parents?” Sam got right to it, a bit too eagerly. “Because you heard about the memorial from them,” she clarified.

You thanked Jay as he sat down your mug. “Yeah. I didn’t for a while, not until I heard that he died. They called me, tracked down my number and everything. I was surprised. Trevor and I hadn’t talked since the night before we both left for college.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “Did you guys have a falling out or something?”

“Yeah, of sorts. We were dumb kids and said some things we didn’t mean. At least, I did. I’d like to think that he did too but I didn’t get the chance to ask him.”

Trevor tried to ignore the burning gazes of his friends but it was impossible; they wanted to know every little detail, that much was clear on their faces. Even Sam and Jay looked engrossed in your words, curious to know more.

“Well? Did you?” Hetty asked, nudging Trevor’s shoulder.

“Of course I did. I was a dumb kid, like they said.” He let you walk out of his life and tried to convince himself it was better that way.

“The truth is,” you continued. “I thought I knew him better than anyone. We grew up together and he was my best friend. But maybe I didn’t.”

Trevor felt like was going to cry; it was awful and pathetic. He was the one who walked away and thought a couple of weeks would pass by and you two would be able to pretend like your conversation had never happened. But it never did and he was too stubborn to reach out. Then weeks turned into years and you grew up while he regretted letting you go.

“Best friends at age are tricky, especially when you’re leaving for college. I know one of my best friends and I got into this weird fight before we left for college. I was scared she was going to find a new best friend. And she did,” Sam laughed uncomfortably at the memory.

You smiled kindly at Sam’s rambling. “I was scared he was going to fall in love with someone at college before I got the chance to tell him I loved him. But I wished I would’ve kept it to myself. Then I at least we would’ve stayed friends.”

A couple of gasps sounded from behind him and Sam’s eyes widened as they flickered between him and you. “Y-You loved Trevor?”

A sad smile pulled on your lips as you held onto your steaming mug of tea tighter. “Yeah. And after I told him he said he wanted a fresh start in college. A blank slate. Not a partner. He didn’t like me that way and I overreacted, walked away, and avoided him for a while. He never reached out; I figured he found what he was looking for in college.”

He buried his head in his hands and stifled a groan.

Sam hesitated before continuing. “That’s… terrible.”

“It was all so stupid in hindsight. I always thought about reaching out, just to check in. The night he died I even dialed his number that I found in the phonebook. I was going to call but decided against it. Then two weeks later his parents called me to tell me he died and I couldn’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if I had called. He was here, he wasn’t even home so it wouldn’t have changed anything but I…I don’t know.” You nervously played with the button on your shirt, looking at anything but Sam and Jay. “Sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I don’t even know you and it’s not like you knew Trevor. It’s just...I haven’t talked about him to anyone. I’d feel bad bringing any of this up to his parents. And being here…I don’t know.”

“Don’t apologize! His parents said the same thing when they were here. I guess if you believe in spirits maybe…maybe his is still here. But that’s…crazy.” Sam was a bad liar but she was lucky her ability to see ghosts was so insane no one would think she’d be lying about that.

You hummed, taking a sip of tea. “That’s a nice thought.”

Trevor wanted to talk to you; he wanted you to see him more than he was sure he wanted anything “Oh, man,” he groaned loudly. “I should have called. I should have-” Pete placed a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him sadly. He wanted to curl into himself and disappear.

“I’m sure he felt the same way. He probably wanted to reach out too,” Sam offered in an attempt to make you feel better.

Jay nodded. “Oh, yeah. Trust me, I was a dude in college once. There was not much going on up here.” He tapped on his forehead.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. Trevor wished he could tell you for certain that he had been an idiot and he regretted it still. He loved you back, he just didn’t realize it until you were out of his life. What if he had said so that night? Would he still be alive? Would you two have been married? There were a million different outcomes of his life that played through his head at a dizzying rate. “This is probably weird for you guys, learning so much about some guy you didn’t know but died in your house.”

Sam and Jay exchanged a look. “You know, it’s almost like we did know him.”

You ate lunch and didn’t bring up Trevor again, neither did Sam and Jay despite the buzzing questions the other ghosts spit out at you and Sam. It wasn’t until you left that Trevor felt like answering them.

“Oh boy,” Jay whistled. “That was rough, no pants. How’s he doing?”

“Bad. Obviously bad!” Trevor said.

“Bad,” Sam repeated to Jay.

“Well, I mean, what’s his side of the story?” Everyone turned to Trevor, but Sam answered before he got the chance.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say he realized he felt the same way after they stopped talking, right?”

Trevor huffed. “How’d you know?”

“It’s written all over your face, honey,” Alberta said.

“And he never told them?” Jay asked.

“I thought about it,” Trevor signed. “A lot, but I thought I lost my chance. And now they’re here and I still can’t tell them the truth.” He wanted to tell you, not to have it translated through Sam. And there was a slim chance you’d believe her anyway. Believing in ghosts was one thing, but trying to convince someone that not only were ghosts real but the ghost of an old friend who was actually in love with you was in front of them was a whole other thing.

Sam frowned. “He thought about it but figured he missed his chance,” she told Jay.

“Man, this sucks,” Jay replied.

“You could knock over vase again,” Thorfinn suggested. “Maybe they fall downstairs and die or see us like Sam.”

“No!” Sam was quick to shoot down that idea. “There will be no murder attempts, guys.”

“There’s gotta be another way for no pants to confess his feelings without someone else dying in our house. Seriously, that’s a lawsuit we do not have money to pay for,” said Jay.

“You know what’s romantic?” Isaac began. “Letters.”

A gasp fell from Hetty’s lips as she tugged on Isaac’s arm excitedly. “Yes! Have Sam pen a letter.”

“You could say everything you wanted to them without having to first convince them ghosts are real,” Sass added. “It could work.”

“That’s a great idea!” Sam said, earning a confused look from Jay. “I’m going to write them a letter from Trevor telling them about his feelings.”

Jay nodded, impressed. “That could work. But how are you going to explain to them why you have the letter?”

“Just tell them Trevor’s parents found it and brought it to the memorial thinking they were going to show up,” Alberta said. “Say they forgot it and you held onto it for some reason.”

Sam explained that to Jay before she rushed off to find a pen and paper. Trevor nervously tried to gather his thoughts. It was a lot of pressure, putting everything out on a piece of paper, but he had to do it for both himself and you. He couldn’t go another moment without you knowing that he did reciprocate your feelings and that you were the only person who knew him so well. He needed you to know how much you meant to him and how he regretted letting you walk away in the first place. He should have chased after you the second the realization hit him like a truck. He should have shown up at your dorm like he imagined himself doing a hundred times over until he talked himself out of it.

After Sam returned she and Trevor were left alone. He spilled his guts. Every regret, everything he didn’t say, she wrote down. He admitted to loving you too but being too much of a coward to admit it after he let you go. He told you how he missed you but he wanted you to be happy; that was all he had ever really wanted. And for a while, when it was just the two of you in high school, that was what he tried to do. He didn’t know why he thought stopping was the right move, but he couldn’t take it back. All he could give you was the letter of his feelings. He hoped it was enough to bring you both closure.

After it was written, Sam went upstairs to deliver it. She knocked on your door and sucked in a deep breath before it was swung open. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said.

“I found something that belongs to you.” Sam held out the letter and you took it with an odd look. “I forgot about it until a little bit ago. Trevor’s parents brought this letter with them to the memorial, but they left it here and I, well I’m not sure why, but I kept it. And when you were telling us about Trevor, I remembered I had shoved it in a drawer. Super weird, I know, but it’s all yours.”

You flipped over the envelope to see your name scrawled across the front. Sam awkwardly lingered in the doorway for a moment before she realized you weren’t going to open it with her standing there. She let you be and returned downstairs to a nervous Trevor pacing back and forth across the kitchen.

“Did you give it to them?” he asked, chewing on his nails.

“Yeah, I think they’re reading it now.”

You didn’t come out of your room for a while and Trevor wondered if you’d even read it at all. He guessed he couldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t. In your head, he was someone else, some asshole who didn’t even call you on your birthday, so you didn’t call him when his rolled around a couple weeks later. Maybe you had saved face for Sam and Jay and deep down you really hated him. Maybe you threw the letter away and were busy packing your bags.

But then you showed up, eyes rimmed red, and clear tears streaked down your cheeks. Trevor didn’t know if he was relieved or worried.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, abandoning her cutting board on the counter where she was helping Jay with dinner.

You smiled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Yeah. I just wanted to say thank you for this.” You held up the letter.

Sam sent a small smile in Trevor’s direction before she ushered you into one of the kitchen chairs. “Dinner’s still cooking but while you wait, how about a chocolate chip cookie?”

Your eyes widened slightly before your brows furrowed. “Chocolate chip? Those are my favorite.”

“Oh, what a coincidence,” she said, looking once more at Trevor who stood in relief mixed with something else that was warm but nice inside his chest. He knew they were your favorite, which is why he told Sam to make them. He still remembered most things about you.

And now you knew how he felt after all that time. You knew that he didn’t forget about you. In life and death, there would always be a soft spot he had for you and dreams of what could have been but never was. At least now you knew he had loved you and he regretted not owning up to his feelings; he hoped that gave you some kind of closure. He hadn’t been much for spilling his feelings when he was alive, but death had changed him a little and he didn’t want you to go the rest of your life thinking your feelings about him had been misplaced and unreciprocated. You knew the truth and you seemed at peace with it.

Pete appeared beside him, clapping him on the shoulder gently. “You okay?”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah. I think I am now.” And he hoped you were too and that you’d continue to be until you were old and gray, living your life out to the fullest.

#cbs ghosts #trevor lefkowitz #trevor lefkowitz x reader #trevor lefkowitz x you #cbs ghosts fanfiction #sam arondekar #jay arondekar #hetty woodstone #sasappis #isaac higgintoot #alberta haynes #pete martino #thorfinn #flower montero

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wolvietxt · 24 days ago

Text

ᰔ what really matters !

pairing : dean winchester x fem!reader warnings : shy!reader, crazy overthinking, friends to lovers, insecurities, implied anxiety, crying, hurt / comfort, jealousy, kiss, dean flirts w other people to show off, happy ending, size diff wc : 6.5k a/n : currently working on a part 2!

it was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. sam had found a lead on a restless spirit haunting a small-town diner, and dean, ever eager for some pie and action, had jumped at the opportunity. you’d tagged along, like always, quietly sitting in the back seat of the impala, offering occasional input between the brothers’ banter.

the plan was clear: investigate during the day, torch the bones at night. simple enough. yet somehow, being in close proximity to dean for an extended period always felt anything but simple.

“you’ve been awfully quiet back there,” dean said, turning slightly in the driver’s seat to glance at you. his green eyes lingered a moment too long, forcing him to correct the car’s steering. “everything good?”

you nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “yeah, just… thinking.”

“uh-oh,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips. “are you thinking weird again? i told you, sweetheart, you don’t need to do that with us. leave the worrying to sammy.”

sam huffed from the passenger seat. “thanks for that, dean.”

you offered a small smile, unsure how to respond. dean’s words felt warm, like a blanket, but your mind couldn’t stop picking them apart. was he teasing, or did he mean it? did he think you worried too much? was it annoying?

you shook the thoughts away as the car rolled to a stop in front of the diner.

inside, the place was charming in that worn-down, small-town way. red vinyl booths, a jukebox in the corner, and a waitress who seemed to know everyone’s name. dean leaned against the counter, his usual swagger on full display.

“so, martha,” he said, flashing the waitress a smile that could’ve melted butter, “anything weird going on around here lately? cold spots, flickering lights, mysterious whispers…?”

you hovered awkwardly near sam, feeling out of place. martha’s eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to dean, completely ignoring you and sam.

“oh, weird stuff always happens around here,” she said with a giggle. “but nothing too scary. why, you boys hunting ghosts or something?”

dean chuckled. “or something.”

you shifted on your feet, pretending to study the menu even though you weren’t planning on ordering anything. dean’s charm was undeniable, and you’d seen him use it a million times to get information, but it always left you with a strange, hollow feeling.

not that it mattered. it wasn’t like he meant anything by it.

“you alright?” sam asked softly, pulling you from your thoughts.

“yeah,” you lied. “just tired.”

sam didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.

the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of questions and notes. martha had mentioned a former cook who’d died on the job and hinted at some unusual occurrences in the kitchen, which gave you all a solid lead.

“we’ll dig up his records, find the grave, and salt-and-burn tonight,” sam said as you walked back to the car.

“easy peasy,” dean added, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he held the door open for you. “see, this is why you keep us around. all the hard work, none of the worrying.”

your heart jumped at the casual contact, but you forced yourself to focus. it didn’t mean anything. he was just being dean.

the graveyard was damp and cold by the time you arrived. armed with shovels, salt, and gasoline, you worked as quickly as possible, trying not to draw attention.

“you’re sure this is the right spot?” you asked, glancing at the headstone.

“positive,” sam said. “records match up.”

“don’t worry,” dean said with a wink, “we’ve got this.”

you weren’t sure how he managed to be so confident all the time. it was like he didn’t feel fear, or at least he never showed it. you, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about what might go wrong. as the brothers dug, you stayed on lookout, flashlight in hand. the woods were eerily quiet, every rustle of leaves setting your nerves on edge.

“hey,” dean called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good over there, sweetheart?”

you nodded, gripping the flashlight tighter. “yeah, just keeping watch.”

“you’re cute when you’re focused, you know that?” he said, grinning as he tossed another shovelful of dirt aside.

your face burned, and you quickly turned away, pretending to scan the trees. cute? he probably didn’t mean it. he said stuff like that all the time.

still, the word echoed in your mind, making it hard to think straight.

the ghost showed up right on cue, just as dean and sam hit the coffin. it was a tall, shadowy figure with glowing eyes, and boy did it move fast. too fast.

“stay back!” dean shouted, stepping in front of you as the spirit lunged.

sam was already throwing salt and iron, keeping it at bay while dean lit the match and dropped it into the open grave. flames roared to life, and the ghost let out an ear-splitting scream before vanishing.

you stood frozen, heart pounding as the grave smoldered.

“you okay?” dean asked, turning to you. his hands landed on your shoulders, steady and warm.

you nodded, your voice stuck in your throat.

“you sure?” he pressed, his green eyes scanning your face.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you managed to whisper, hoping the fear in your eyes wasn’t too obvious.

he didn’t look convinced but let it go, giving you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back.

the ride back to the motel was quiet, exhaustion settling over the group.

“not bad for a day’s work,” dean said, trying to lighten the mood.

you offered a small smile, but your mind was still racing. every little thing he said, every glance, every touch — it all felt so significant, and yet it probably meant nothing to him.

“you’re thinking too much again,” dean teased, catching your eye in the rearview mirror. “what’d i tell you about that?”

“it’s nothing,” you said quickly, hoping he’d drop it.

but dean being dean, he didn’t.

“come on,” he said, turning in his seat to face you. “spill it. what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

you froze, unsure how to respond. sam shot you a sympathetic look but didn’t intervene.

“seriously,” dean pressed, his voice softer now. “are you good?”

you nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, ‘m just tired.”

he studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the road.

back at the motel, you retreated to your room as quickly as possible, needing space to breathe.

dean had always been a little too much — too loud, too charming, too... everything. and yet, you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, even if you knew it was hopeless. you sighed, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling.

somewhere in the room next door, dean was probably cracking jokes with sam, completely unaware of the chaos he caused in your mind.

it was fine. it had to be fine.

because as much as you wanted to believe he saw you as more than a friend, you couldn’t risk getting your hopes up.

the day started like any other, with sam at the laptop, you poring over your notes, and dean bustling around with an air of restless energy.

“coffee?” dean asked, holding up a cup for you.

you nodded, offering a small smile. “thanks.”

he plopped down beside you at the motel table, his knee bumping yours. “so, what’s the game plan today, professor?”

“um…” you hesitated, flipping through the notebook in front of you. “so, i think we should — ”

“let me guess,” dean interrupted with a grin. “the safest, most boring route possible, right?”

you blinked, taking a second to process what he’d just said, hurt surely beginning to form in your features.

“it’s not boring,” you mumbled.

“sure thing… but hey, relax!” he said, patting your shoulder. “you’re good at what you do, even if you’re a little… well, a lot predictable.”

your stomach twisted. predictable? was that how he saw you?

“thanks, dean,” you muttered, staring down at your notes to hide the burn in your cheeks. sam noticed though. sam always noticed.

sam shot dean a look from across the room. “hey, maybe ease up a little, man.”

“what?” dean said, shrugging him off, a deep chuckle reverberating from his chest. “i’m just messing with her.”

the lighthearted tone didn’t soften the sting. you knew dean teased everyone, but his words stuck like a burr under your skin, refusing to let go.

soon after, the three of you piled into the impala, the rumble of the engine filling the silence as dean cranked up the radio. you stared out the window, letting the music blur into background noise while your mind replayed the conversation from earlier.

predictable. you thought, the word echoing in your head.

you weren’t mad at dean — how could you be? he didn’t mean anything by it. but the overthinking wouldn’t let up, weaving a web of doubt and insecurity that clung to you like static.

“you okay?” sam asked from the front seat, glancing back at you.

you forced a smile. “yeah. just tired.”

sam didn’t press, but his concerned expression lingered.

the diner was bustling with mid-morning activity when you arrived, the smell of coffee and sizzling bacon wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. you slid into the booth, hoping the noise would drown out your thoughts.

“what can i get ya?” the waitress asked, her voice cheerful as she slid the menus across the table.

“just a coffee, please,” you said quickly, barely looking up as your fingers fumbled over the paper.

“and a stack of pancakes,” dean added, leaning forward and giving her a grin that was just a little too easy. “extra syrup. gotta start the day off right, y’know?”

the waitress’s eyes lit up, and she laughed, her attention lingering on dean as she jotted down the order. there was something almost playful in the way she looked at him, an expression that made your chest tighten.

“you sure know how to charm, don’t ya?” she teased, her voice warm and full of flirtation.

“what can i say?” dean replied, that easy smirk tugging at his lips. “comes pretty easily when i’m speaking to women like you.”

you forced your eyes back to the menu, though you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the way the waitress’s fingers lingered on the pen, her attention still fixed on dean. the two of them seemed to be in a world of their own, and you were just... here. watching. waiting.

“what about you, sweetheart?” the waitress turned to you, her smile softening just slightly, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“uh, just coffee, please,” you mumbled again, feeling heat crawl up your neck. your voice felt small in the noise of the diner, a whisper lost among the clatter of plates and low hum of conversation.

“gotcha,” she said, giving you a brief, almost dismissive nod before turning and making her way to the kitchen. you could still feel her attention on you, like an echo, but this time, it was empty, no warmth behind it.

dean shifted beside you, leaning back and letting out a low chuckle. “she’s got quite the smile, huh?” his eyes were teasing, his grin crooked as he looked over at you and sam. the joke was light, but there was an edge to it that made you feel off balance.

you forced a laugh, but it came out hollow, cracking under the weight of the moment. “yeah, sure,” you said, keeping your eyes fixed on the coffee cup in front of you, the porcelain cool and solid beneath your fingertips.

“you okay?” sam’s voice broke through the silence once again. dean’s teasing slipping away as his eyes studied you too. there was a flicker of concern in them, but before you could let yourself get lost in it, he added, “didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sweetheart. it’s just... that kind of smile, you know?”

the question hung in the air, and you couldn’t tell if he was talking about the waitress or you. but the sharp sting of jealousy you felt at the thought made your throat tighten. you forced a smile, though it felt like a lie. “i’m fine. just... not hungry, that’s all.”

“you sure?” he pressed, his expression softening as he reached for his coffee. the playful energy had faded, and now there was something else, a vulnerability that felt rare for him.

“yeah,” you said, voice quiet. “just... never mind.”

he leaned back, eyes still on you, but this time, there was a shadow in them, a shift that made your heart twist. he looked away, watching the waitress as she came back with a smile that was just for him. his eyes softened, and he laughed as she spoke to him, teasing and warm.

it was almost too much, the way he could be so effortlessly charming. your chest ached with the realization that the way he looked at her was the same way he looked at you sometimes, though it felt different when it was just the two of you, alone in the dim light of the bunker.

by the time the food arrived, your appetite had disappeared. dean was still chatting with the waitress every time she came by, his voice low and easy in a way that made your chest ache.

you stared at your coffee cup, your fingers tightening around it as your thoughts spiraled. was this what dean wanted? someone confident, flirty, and self-assured? someone like her?

the sting of earlier comments layered on top, building a weight that felt impossible to carry.

“you sure you’re okay?” sam asked again softly, his voice cutting through the haze.

“fine,” you said quickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over.

sam’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push.

dean, oblivious, kept talking. “man, this coffee’s strong enough to put hair on your chest. might wanna ease up, professor,” he teased, nudging you lightly.

that was it. the dam broke.

you barely registered standing up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“excuse me,” you muttered, your voice shaking.

you hurried out of the diner, your chest tight and your vision blurred.

sam found you a few minutes later, sitting on a bench just outside. he didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside you and offered a quiet, grounding presence.

“you wanna tell me what’s going on?” he asked eventually, his tone careful.

you shook your head, unable to form the words.

“okay,” he said gently. “you don’t have to talk. just breathe.”

his arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you close. the dam fully burst then, tears streaming down your face as you buried your head in your hands.

sam held you, his voice low and steady. “you’re alright. just let it out.”

his hand alternating between rubbing soothing circles on your back and tapping you lightly to the beat of your heart, the steady motions helping to calm the blur.

“‘m sorry, sam,” you choked out between sobs.

“don’t apologize,” sam said firmly. “you don’t even owe anyone an explanation. especially not dean.”

you flinched at the mention of his name, fresh waves of doubt and embarrassment washing over you.

sam seemed to sense it, his tone softening even more. “he doesn’t mean half the crap he says, you know. he’s just… dean.”

you managed a shaky nod, though the knot in your chest didn’t fully ease.

“hey,” sam said, tipping your chin up to look at him. “you’re okay.”

he pressed a light kiss to your forehead, the gesture warm and comforting in a way that made you tear up all over again. sam had always had a way of calming you down, knowing what was wrong and when. you were very similar in lots of ways.

inside, dean sat in the booth, fidgeting with his coffee cup.

“where’d they go?” the waitress asked, dropping off the check.

“outside,” dean muttered, his gaze fixed on the window.

he watched as sam wrapped you in a hug, his jaw tightening.

“everything okay with your girl?” the waitress asked, her tone light.

“she’s not my girl,” dean said quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

the waitress raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, the hint of a smile ghosting over her features.

dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. he hadn’t meant to upset you — he never did — but the sight of you crying, with sam comforting you, made something twist in his chest. he threw some cash on the table and stood, his mind racing with a mix of guilt and something else he couldn’t quite name. jealousy, maybe?

he pushed the thought aside, heading toward the door.

“dean?” sam’s voice cut through the noise of the diner.

dean turned, finding his brother standing outside the far doorway, his arm still draped protectively around you.

“give her a minute,” sam said, his expression firm.

dean nodded, swallowing hard as he watched you lean into sam’s side.

he retreated back and stood in the doorway of the diner, his boots scuffing against the floor as he watched you outside with sam. his jaw ticked, the familiar burn of guilt twisting in his chest.

you’d looked so hurt when you bolted. he hadn’t meant to upset you — hell, he rarely thought before he spoke, but he hated that his careless words had made you cry.

and then there was sam, playing the role of the comforter, his arm draped around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

dean hated how that made him feel. jealousy wasn’t a look he liked wearing, but damn if it wasn’t fitting him like a glove right now. he shoved his hands into his pockets, staring down at the worn linoleum. when sam finally walked you back in, dean forced himself to meet your eyes.

you glanced at him briefly, your cheeks blotchy and red, before dropping your gaze to the floor. the pang in his chest deepened.

sam gave him a pointed look, one that said, don’t screw this up, before gently nudging you toward the booth.

you slid in first, keeping as much distance between you and dean as possible.

“hey,” dean started, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you murmured, not looking up.

the waitress returned, her cheerfulness only adding to the tension at the table.

“ready for the check?” she asked, glancing between the three of you.

“yeah, we’re done,” dean said gruffly, tossing some cash onto the table without counting it. “keep the change.”

the waitress hesitated, her gaze lingering on dean for a second too long before she turned and walked away.

sam cleared his throat. “we should probably hit the road.”

“yeah,” dean muttered, sliding out of the booth.

the ride back to the motel was quieter than it had ever been. the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of paper as sam reviewed the hunt notes. dean kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror, but you didn’t notice. you were too busy staring out the window, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

“so,” sam said awkwardly, breaking the silence, “any ideas on how we’re gonna track this thing down?”

dean grunted. “same as always. follow the trail, kill the thing.”

sam shot him a look but didn’t press further.

you stayed quiet, your thoughts miles away.

back at the motel, you retreated to your room almost immediately, mumbling something about needing to check your notes. dean and sam both watched you go, the motel door clicking shut behind you.

dean’s jaw tightened as the guilt settled deeper in his chest. he wasn’t used to feeling like this — so unsure, so aware of every single way he’d messed up. he rubbed a hand over his face, frustration building as he stared at the floor. he could feel sam's eyes on him, the tension thick in the air. he didn’t know how to fix it, and that made everything worse.

“dean, what the fuck? that shit you pulled at the diner… it doesn’t impress her you know. flirting with other people. christ.” sam said, his voice getting louder with every word, visibly stressing out. evidently, he’d been holding that in for a while now, waiting to get dean alone.

“i know i fucked up. okay, sam, i know.” dean snapped back.

“you’re gonna talk to her, right? you better.” sam asked, leaning against the kitchenette counter.

“yeah,” dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. “just… give me a minute.”

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the thin motel walls didn’t leave much to the imagination.

hearing dean pacing and muttering under his breath made your stomach twist. you couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was talking about you. the familiar voice of self-doubt crept in, louder than ever.

he’s probably frustrated with me. i overreacted. i always overreact.

you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands.

dean knocked on your door a little later, his knuckles rapping softly against the wood.

“hey,” he called, his voice hesitant. “you busy?”

you hesitated, then opened the door a crack. “no.”

he stood there, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

“can we talk?” he asked.

you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

he glanced around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “listen,” he started, “about earlier…”

you shifted nervously, not meeting his eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i was just… being a bit of an idiot, like usual.”

you looked up at him then, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you said quietly.

“yeah, i did,” he admitted, his green eyes locking onto yours. “i was an ass, and you didn’t deserve that.”

the honesty in his voice made your chest ache.

“it’s okay,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it.

“it’s not,” dean insisted. “you’re… you’re important to me. and the last thing i want is to make you feel like crap.”

your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them settling over you like a warm blanket.

“thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he took a step closer, his gaze searching yours. “are we okay?”

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“good,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing.

he seemed to hesitate a little before taking another step closer, looking down at you as he seemed to study your expression. he smiled once again, a big cheesy dean smile and then after he seemed to contemplate what to do he turned on his heel after planting a soft kiss on your head. as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just imagined the way his eyes lingered on you, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

inside his own room, dean collapsed onto the bed with a groan. he stared at the ceiling, replaying everything over in his head.

he’d apologized, sure, but it didn’t feel like enough. not when you’d looked so… defeated. for one of the first times in his life he felt awkward, he hoped you hadn’t thought too much of the kiss, however short lived. his chest tightened at the memory of your tear-streaked face in the diner. it was like a punch to the gut every time he thought about it.

“damn it,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.

he hated this. hated feeling like he was losing his grip on something that mattered so much to him. because you did matter — to him, more than you probably knew. and that was the problem. he wasn’t sure how to show you without screwing it up further.

the tension you thought was resolved seemed to linger between you and dean the next day, hanging over the group like a storm cloud. sam did his best to fill the silence, but it was clear neither of you were really in the mood to talk.

“i’ll check out the library,” sam said finally, grabbing his bag. “you two stay here, see if you can dig up anything online.”

dean nodded, not meeting your eyes as sam left. the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone.

“you want the laptop?” dean asked, his voice gruff.

you nodded, taking it from him without a word.

he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “look, i don’t know how many more times i can say i’m sorry, but — ”

“you don’t have to keep apologizing,” you interrupted, your voice softer than you intended. a stark contrast to his.

he blinked, caught off guard. “i just… i hate that i made you feel like that.”

you glanced at him, your heart aching at the genuine regret in his eyes.

“it’s okay, dean. you’ve already said sorry, i thought that was it,” you said, even though part of you wasn’t sure it really was.

he nodded, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

that night, dean stood outside your door again, debating whether or not to knock. he hated this distance between you two, hated feeling like he was walking on eggshells. but most of all, he hated that he didn’t know how to fix it.

finally, he knocked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“come in,” you called softly.

he opened the door, hesitating in the doorway.

“hey,” he said, his voice quiet. “you doing okay?”

you nodded, though the tightness in your chest said otherwise.

he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“look,” he started, running a hand through his hair, “i know i’m not great at this kind of thing, but… i care about you. more than i probably should.”

your breath caught, his words hitting you like a freight train.

“dean, i…”

he held up a hand, cutting you off. “just… let me say this, okay? i care about you, and i hate seeing you upset. especially if it’s because of me.”

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you fought back tears.

“you’re not just a friend to me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in. what could he mean by that? what you’d always wished he felt for you?

“dean,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “you mean a lot to me too.”

he looked at you, his green eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“so… are we good?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

you nodded, a small smile breaking through the tension.

“yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time.

he smiled back, the tension in his shoulders finally easing fully. and for the first time in days, things between you felt like they might actually be okay.

you weren’t sure how it happened, but somehow you and dean ended up crammed together in the tiny motel room armchair, your knees brushing his and his warmth radiating off him like a furnace.

sam had taken off to follow a lead, leaving you and dean to man the research front. but the computer battery had died, the coffee had gone cold, and now you were both lazily flipping through books neither of you were really reading.

dean tilted his head, watching you as you squinted at the small print. “you always make that face when you read?”

“what face?” you asked, looking up at him.

“that cute little scrunched-up thing,” he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

your stomach flipped, and you ducked your head, suddenly very interested in the book in your lap. “i don’t scrunch my face.”

“yeah, you do,” he said, leaning closer. “like this.”

he exaggerated a dramatic squint, furrowing his brow and twisting his mouth into something ridiculous.

you couldn’t help it — you giggled, the sound soft and bubbling out of you before you could stop it.

dean grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “there it is,” he said, his voice warm.

for a moment, everything felt easy, natural, like the awkwardness and tension of the past few days had melted away. but then your eyes caught the faint smear of grease on his hand, and your mind drifted.

you thought back to the first time you’d realized you had a crush on dean winchester.

it had been a quiet night in the bunker, just the two of you tinkering with the impala. he’d handed you a wrench, his hand brushing yours, and you’d felt it — a spark, like a live wire connecting the two of you.

he’d smiled at you then, soft and genuine, and it had made your heart race.

you’d brushed it off at first, chalking it up to admiration or something equally benign. but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized it was something else entirely.

you’d fallen for him — hard.

and it wasn’t just his looks, though you’d be lying if you said those green eyes and that cocky grin didn’t make your knees weak. it was everything about him: the way he protected the people he cared about, the way he laughed, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and still managed to crack a joke.

but he’d never see you that way. how could he? you were just… you.

and then there was the size difference. it wasn’t something you normally thought about, but around dean, it was impossible to ignore. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and solid in a way that made you feel both safe and utterly self-conscious.

you, on the other hand, felt small in comparison — too small, too quiet, too unsure of yourself to ever catch his attention.

“hey,” dean said, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “you good?”

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile.

“you sure? you spaced out there for a second.”

“just tired,” you lied.

he didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.

dean wasn’t immune to overthinking either, though he’d never admit it out loud. he’d had a thing for you for what felt like forever, but he’d always convinced himself it was a bad idea.

you were shy, sweet, and way too good for someone like him. besides, he didn’t want to scare you off — not when having you around was one of the few things that made the job bearable.

so he kept his feelings to himself, content to just be your friend, even if it killed him a little every time you smiled at him like he hung the moon.

but there were moments — moments like now, with you sitting so close, your leg brushing his and your eyes darting to his every so often — that made it damn near impossible to keep his cool.

“you know,” he said, his voice low, “you don’t have to keep everything to yourself.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… you can talk to me,” he said, his gaze steady. “about anything.”

your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice.

“i know,” you said softly.

he smiled at that, a small, lopsided grin that made your chest feel warm.

“good,” he said, leaning forward slightly.

the proximity made your breath hitch, your eyes locking onto his for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. but then the moment passed, and he leaned back again, running a hand through his hair.

later that night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts wandered again.

you thought about all the little things dean did — how he always walked on the side closest to traffic, how he made sure you ate on hunts, how he was quick to tease but just as quick to defend you if anyone else tried.

he cared about you. you knew that much.

but as a friend, or something more?

the uncertainty gnawed at you, and you rolled onto your side, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

dean wasn’t faring much better. he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, his mind racing.

he thought about all the times he’d come close to saying something, only to chicken out at the last second.

he thought about the way you’d looked at him earlier, like you were trying to figure him out. he thought about how often he fucked up infront of you, trying to distract himself from his silly crush only to regret it afterwards. and he thought about the way you made him feel — like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he thought he was.

“screw it,” he muttered under his breath, standing up and heading for your door.

a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, startling you. you sat up in bed, heart thudding.

“it’s me,” dean’s voice came softly from the other side, muffled but familiar.

“come in,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

the door creaked open, and dean stepped inside, his movements careful. he closed the door behind him quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar way, his gaze briefly flicking to yours before darting away.

“yeah, me neither,” you murmured, fingers twisting the edge of the blanket draped over your lap.

he hesitated for a moment, standing awkwardly near the door before crossing the room and sitting down on the edge of your bed. the mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

finally, dean broke the silence. “so i’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice quiet but deliberate. “about us.”

your stomach flipped, your pulse quickening as his words hung in the air. “us?” you echoed, barely audible.

he nodded, his jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. “you mean a lot to me,” he said finally, his voice rough around the edges. “more than i’ve ever really let on. i regret that.”

your breath caught, your chest tightening at the quiet vulnerability in his tone.

“dean…” you began, but he held up a hand, his eyes meeting yours fully now.

“let me say this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “i’ve spent so much time trying to keep things simple, to keep things from getting messy. but with you…” he trailed off, his expression softening as he searched your face. “it’s never been simple. and i wouldn’t want it to be.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut — raw, honest, and so undeniably him.

“i don’t know if i’m any good at this,” he admitted, his hand brushing yours where it rested on the blanket. the touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver up your spine. “but i want to try. if you’ll let me.”

your heart raced, a thousand emotions swirling inside you. “dean, you don’t have to…”

“i want to,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “i care about you. more than i probably should. and i don’t want to keep pretending like that’s not true.”

your hand was fully engulfed in his now. you swallowed hard, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. he looked at you, his green eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

dean’s gaze flickered, his lips parting slightly before he closed them again, his hesitation palpable. his other hand hovered near yours, fingers brushing faintly, the touch so light it was almost imagined. the space between you seemed to shrink on its own, the weight of the moment settling over both of you. his eyes lingered, tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.

his fingers shifted closer, finally grazing yours with deliberate care. the air grew warmer, each heartbeat louder than the last, as if the world itself held its breath, waiting.

“can i…?” he started, his voice trailing off as he leaned slightly closer, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes.

you nodded, unable to find your voice, your chest tight with anticipation.

his hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin as he leaned in. his lips met yours softly, testing, like he was afraid to push too far. but when you didn’t pull away, he pressed a little closer, his warmth grounding you.

the moment his lips met yours, the world seemed to tilt. his kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. your fingers clutched at his shirt, the fabric bunching beneath your grip as a quiet whimper escaped you.

dean groaned in response, the sound low and rough, reverberating against your lips. it sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing hotter. his other hand found your waist, firm but gentle, anchoring you to him. his thumb traced the curve of your jaw as he deepened the kiss, his touch igniting something that left you breathless.

when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded and his breathing slightly uneven.

“i’ve wanted to do that for so damn long,” he confessed, his voice low and filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“me too,” you whispered, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding.

he chuckled softly, the sound warm and comforting. “guess we’re both a little stubborn, huh?”

you smiled, a weight lifting off your chest as his words settled into your heart. “maybe just a little.”

dean’s fingers traced the edge of your jaw, his touch lingering as if he wasn’t ready to let go. “you’re fuckin’ awesome, you know that?” he said softly, his voice almost reverent.

you giggled quietly, the sound light and easy. “if i’m fuckin’ awesome, what are you?” you said, mimicking his much deeper voice,

he smirked, his expression softening as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “just lucky,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet sincerity that made your chest ache in the best way.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

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