Was it that he was irresistibly gorgeous to you? Was it the way you could find his whisper in a crowd of screams? Was it the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, reducing you to something helpless? Or was it real, mad, true once in a lifetime, undeniable love? You didn’t know, you had no concept of what was real between you two anymore. All you knew was that he drove you over edges that you didn’t know existed. But you couldn’t say anything. Not only would you risk your friendship, you’d risk your lifestyle, and a broken heart.
So you sat there, in the library, pretending to read some Men of Letters book on shape-shifters while really staring at the flickering green eyes of Dean Winchester. And when he caught you staring, you’d pretend to ask a question you already knew the answer to, or you’d play if off, pretending you weren’t looking in the first place. The only person who would ever know how you felt about Dean was Sam, and only because he pried it out of you as you’d cried on his shoulder when you thought that Dean might die. Sam caught the glances more than Dean ever did, and he, unlike Dean, knew exactly what they meant.
Dean knew that he was a good looking man, it was a knowledge that he’d carried around since his first kiss. He caught you staring at Sam as well. But every time your eyes flicked away Dean felt a little spark in his chest that felt like hope. Hope that you might be as madly in love with him as he was with you. He knew he could never beat Sam’s level of understanding you, and the friendship that you two shared. And it made him sad that when you were crying or upset, it was Sam’s door that you knocked on and not his. But Dean had felt it, he had felt the heart-racing chemistry between you two, and the fierce passion that, even when you were fighting and throwing things at each other, made him want to slam you against a wall and kiss you. Dean knew he couldn’t risk everything, he knew he couldn’t have you, and because of that, his trips to the bar were more often, his distancing himself from you more apparent, and his one-night stands quickly becoming a nightly routine.
With a slight stabbing sensation in his chest, Dean pushed back his chair and stood up, closing the book we was bent over.
“Well I found nothing useful for the case, I’m heading out to the bar. Maybe the hot blond from two nights ago will be there.” Dean said as he wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, adamantly avoiding your gaze.
“I’ll see you two... later, don’t wait up.” He added, then grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and left.
As soon as he got up and said where he was going you felt like a black hole opened up in your stomach and began sucking at your insides. You even saw a small pang of sympathy on Sam’s face when he left. Every time Dean did that (which was a regular occurrence) it hurt a little more, every single time. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, and you stood up as well after he was gone for a few minutes.
“Y/N, he just doesn’t get it. He’s not trying to hurt you.” Sam said standing up after you, his voice soft, soothing, and almost even convincing. But his sympathy only hurt you more. You needed to get away before Sam saw you break down.
“No no, I’m fine Sam, really. I’m just tired I need to go lie-lie down.” You stuttered as the tears came, you turned away from Sam and ran as fast as possible but you knew he saw how pathetic you were, a stupid little school girl in love with an older man.
You shut your door and flopped on the bed, tears dampening your pillow. You didn’t know how much longer you could handle this.
Dean came back at midnight. The cute blond was there, but after talking to her for ten minutes Dean needed a heavy drink. She was gorgeous, but boring, flat, unemotional, and said such cliche things. The whole while she was talking he couldn’t help but think of how much better you could hold a conversation even if you were only half paying attention. Afterwards he mentally kicked himself, he could have told her to shut up in bed, but he just wasn’t in the mood after that, so he drank a few beers, played a few games of pool and left.
Dean went to the kitchen for something to eat before bed, and Sam was there waiting for him.
“Oh hey Sammy. I told you not to wait up. Is Y/N sleeping?” Dean asked casually as he bent down to see what was in the fridge.
“Dean… You’re hurting her and I can’t watch it anymore.” Sam said quietly. Dean straightened up and stared at Sam, not knowing who he was talking about.
“Who? What? Are you okay Sam?” Dean asked, genuinely concerned. Sam gestured for Dean to sit down. Dean sat, feeling somewhat like a child about to be scolded.
“Dean listen to me. I thought I could keep this a secret but it’s doing more damage than I think is repairable at this rate. Y/N is in love with you, and everyday I watch you hurt her more and more with your ignorance.” Sam said while running his hand over his face. Dean felt his heart flip, Sam was your best friend, he knew everything about you.
“She-she’s in love with me? Me Sam? Not you?” Dean asked in disbelief. Sam rolled his eyes.
“Are you kidding me Dean? Of course she’s not in love with me, we’re best friends. I can’t believe this, I thought you were some great ladies man and you can’t even tell that- man... “ Sam paused and Dean continued to stare in disbelief. If this was a prank, or some kind of joke that you and Sam were playing, then it was the cruelest thing you’d ever done.
“Dean, she looks at you as if you’re the only reason that the sun rises. When you were on your deathbed, she was more of a mess than I was. How can you not see it Dean?” Sam asked, Dean closed his mouth. If everything Sam said was true then Dean realized that he’d been hurting you by all the stupid things he said to convince you that he wasn’t equally as in love with you.
“Listen, Dean. If you aren’t in love with her, then that's okay. I’m just asking you to stop saying these things that hurt her. And don’t tell her that I told you.” Sam finished then he stood up, clearly tired, and clearly ready for bed. Dean sat in the dark kitchen by himself, swallowing all that Sam had just said. He cringed at every dumb thing he’d said for as long as he could remember being in love with you for.
Finally he stood up and wandered down the halls, still replaying everything. Hating himself even more than usual for everything he did and said and how inconsiderate and blind he was. After a while he found himself outside your door. He thought about knocking, but then what if Sam was wrong? He decided that he couldn’t wait to find out.
You were reading when you heard the knock. Thinking about Dean made it impossible to sleep, but when he came into your room, with a dazed expression, a pang of fear hit your heart as you hoped something bad hadn’t happened to him while he was out.
“Dean, are you okay? I thought you were at the bar?” You asked, quickly hiding the tissue in your hand under your sheets. Dean came and sat beside you silently. His silence no longer scaring you when you saw his thoughtful look. He stared at your face, thinking about what to say.
“Dean what's going on?” You asked, putting a hand on his arm. He was so warm, he always was, warm and steady and reliable in every way but the way you needed. Dean’s eyes found your face, pleading.
“Dean, you’re making me nervous. What's wrong?” You asked again.
“Y/N, do you know why I go the bar almost every night? Why I surround myself with beautiful but emotionless women?” He asked softly. You didn’t understand why he was asking you these thing, but it felt like he was twisting an already embedded dagger.
“I don’t know Dean, I- I don’t care, I was about to go to sleep.” You responded, not sure if you could keep this conversation going for much longer. Dean’s eyes seemed to widen.
“Do you really not care? Like really really not care at all what I do?” He asked quiet but desperately. You just stared at him, unable to answer. You didn’t want to admit that you did, even a little. But why would he be asking you this.
“Y/N… I’m scared, you have to help me out here.” Dean begged. You finally realized why he was begging, or at least you hoped. Tears wanted to escape your eyes but you swallowed the lump in your throat.
“Dean- I… I do care. Of course I care what you do. Bu- but it's not any of my business.” You forced, heart pounding against your chest, almost painfully. Dean shifted on the side of the bed, getting closer and putting on of his hands on the bed on each side of your body. You could feel his uneven breathing on your face.
“Do you want it to be your business Y/N?” He whispered. You remained silent, his proximity seeming to render you unable to speak.
“I love you Y/N... That's why I go to the bar every night. To forget, to be emerged in distractions like alcohol and women with no strings, and horrible karaoke. So I don’t have to think about all the reasons that I can’t have you.” He said finally. But everything after ‘I love you’ seemed to fall away, unimportant and irrelevant. Your hands slid up his arms and resting on his shoulders, using him, as always, to steady you.
“Dean… I need you to kiss me, right now.” You said quietly. Dean’s eyes widened and he laughed nervously.
“Did you not hear what I just said Y/N?” He asked smiling sadly. You did hear it, it just didn’t matter. You put your hands on his cheeks, his stubble tickling your palms.
“Dean, I heard you. But it doesn’t matter, nothing matters. The only thing that is important, that we need to focus on, is that you love me, and I love you. Now kiss me.” You said confidently, believing every word coming from your lips.
“Y/N… You love me too-” Dean started but you couldn’t hold back any more, your lips crashed into his, cutting him off. He quickly responded by opening his mouth, inviting you in and in turn, causing you to open yours. Dean reacted to the touch the same way you did, feeling as though you’d both been waiting for this, anticipation nagging at your every limb. Dean pushed you back onto the bed and quickly straddled you, grazing your waist, hips, shoulders, arms, and chests with his exploring hands. You found the hem of his shirt on the bottom with one hand and began tugging impatiently at his collar with the other. Dean came up for air breaking apart from your lips.
“Y/N… Are you sure you want this? This- we, we’re not simple. This relationship will get messy.” He asked nervously, wanting to know that you were sure. You laughed, you found it ridiculous how little you cared about the potential consequences of what you were doing.
“Messier than it already is Dean?” You asked with a grin, pressing your face into his shoulder. You felt him laugh.
“Touche`. Well you wore me down baby girl. I’m convinced.” He announced then buried his face in your neck, scattering prickly, wet kisses all over your neck and chest, making you giggle uncontrollably.
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