Moving On - Dean di Laurentis x Reader
Author's Note: I haven't read Dean and Allie's book yet, so this is based loosely off the show. It's looooong. For more of my writing, check out my Masterlist: here.
Dean has a lot going on, believe me, I know.
He’s heartbroken that the one girl that he finally allowed himself to catch feelings for decided to sleep with Hunter Davenport of all people. Since this revelation, Dean had been borderline inconsolable. Partying harder, hooking up with anyone with a pulse.
Which, once again, left me putting the pieces back together.
The problem?
It destroys me a little bit more each time I do it.
I did the cliché and highly inconvenient thing of falling in love with my best friend.
It wasn't one grand revelation.
Just a thousand tiny moments that slowly became impossible to ignore.
I wanted Dean. Dean wanted Allie. Allie wanted Hunter.
It was honestly a little pathetic.
I take a deep breath and let myself into the hockey house. I am met with a puck bunny coming out of Dean’s room.
“Is Dean still in there?” I ask.
“He’s hungover, and I’m sure he doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”
“Lucky for me, I’m not a genie stuck granting wishes.”
She huffs as I push past her and enter Dean’s room.
“Get up and take a shower.”
“Go away.”
“Not happening.”
“Just leave me alone.”
“Also not happening. We have plans today.”
“Hmm?” Dean mumbles, barely opening one eye.
“We’re going to lunch.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Why?”
“Because your stomach deserves something other than booze and puck bunny."
He groans, pulling the blanket over his head.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
A pause.
“No,” he admits quietly. “I don’t.”
And that’s the problem.
Because Dean says things like that all the time. Little reminders that I’m important to him. That I’m his person. That he trusts me more than anyone... just never in the way I want.
I walk over and yank the blanket off him. Immediately shielding my eyes and turning before he could see how red my cheeks were.
"Dean! You could've warned me."
“And deprive you of the show?”
"You have two minutes to make it in the shower or I getting Tucker to drag your ass there. I'm going to scrub my eyes."
He groans.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you smell like regret and cheap vodka.”
“That’s hurtful.”
“It’s accurate.”
“You know you’re the worst best friend ever, right?”
“Funny. I was going to say the same thing.”
That gets the smallest laugh out of him.
A win.
I’ll take it.
Without Tucker's involvement, Dean managed to shower. While he did, I straightened up his room, throwing away the trash and collecting his laundry. I had spent so much time in his room, I knew where everything went as if it were my own.
When Dean comes back in, he is thankfully wearing a towel.
"Now was that so hard?"
"It was pretty hard earlier."
"Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis"
He shot me a million-dollar smile.
I threw a clean shirt at him, smacking him in the face.
"This is abuse."
"This is restraint."
I turn around so that he can finish changing.
The mood shifts so fast it almost gives me whiplash.
“You’re supposed to be mad at me,” he says.
“For what?”
“For being pathetic.”
I stop.
Because there it is.
The thing about Dean is that everyone thinks he’s the loud one. The funny one. The guy who can walk into any room and make everyone love him.
They don’t see this version. The one who gets hurt and convinces himself he deserved it.
“Dean.”
“What?”
“You are allowed to be upset.”
“I’m upset because I’m an idiot.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You liked someone.”
“I loved someone.”
The correction is so quiet it almost hurts more.
I sit on the edge of his bed.
“Dean…”
“She knew, you know.”
I look at him.
“What?”
“Allie.”
My stomach twists.
“She knew I liked her.”
The room goes silent.
“She knew?” I ask.
He nods.
“She told me she didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”
A bitter laugh leaves him.
“Which apparently meant she was okay ruining me instead.”
My heart breaks for him. I shouldn’t be jealous of a girl who hurt him. I shouldn’t be angry that someone else gets to be the reason his heart is broken. But I am.
Because even now, when he's hurting, I'm still the one he comes to.
Just never the one he chooses.
And tomorrow, when he’s okay again, he’ll go looking for someone else.
Someone who isn’t me.
“Dean,” I say softly, “you can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Destroying yourself because someone didn’t choose you.”
His eyes meet mine.
“You sound like Logan.”
I force a smile.
“Yeah, well, Logan’s usually right.”
“Annoying, isn’t it?”
“Extremely.”
He looks down.
“I just don’t get it.”
“Don’t get what?”
“Why I’m never enough?”
“You are enough,” I whisper "any girl would be lucky to be with you."
Dean looks at me.
And for one dangerous second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if he heard what I actually meant.
You are enough for me.
But I don’t say it because Dean is broken right now and I refuse to be another person who takes advantage of that.
So instead, I stand.
“Let's go.”
“Where are we going again?”
“Where do you think?”
"You do love me."
The words are automatic.
A joke.
Something he says without thinking.
And I hate how easily my heart reacts to them.
I force myself to laugh.
“Unfortunately.”
He points at me.
“Hurtful.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Barely.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll stop making terrible decisions.”
He gasps.
“Are you talking about my dating life?”
“I’m talking about your life choices in general.”
“That feels personal.”
“It is personal. I’ve known you for eight years.”
“Exactly. You should be used to my charm by now.”
“Dean, you microwaved a fork freshman year.”
“One time.”
“It exploded.”
“It was a learning experience.”
“It was a fire hazard.”
“Same thing.”
I shake my head as we walk out.
This. This is the part that kills me. Not the big moments. Not the way he looks at me when he’s laughing. Not even the fact that he trusts me with everything.
It’s this.
The easy parts. The years of inside jokes and knowing exactly what he’s going to say before he says it. The way being around Dean feels like coming home. Because I know I’ll never be the person he comes home to.
He parks outside the restaurant, and I look over at him. He’s gone quiet, clearly in his head again.
“Are you going inside, or are you planning on sitting here until someone legally declares you missing?”
“I was considering it.”
“Great. I’ll tell the police my best friend was last seen dramatically staring out a car window like he was posing for an album cover.”
He shakes his head, but there’s a small smile.
We finally enter the little diner off campus we’ve been frequenting since freshman year because Dean claims the fries are “life-changing.”
They’re not. They’re fries. But I’ve stopped arguing.
“Eat your fries.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He steals one from my plate.
I immediately slap his hand.
“Those are mine.”
“You weren’t eating them.”
“The waitress dropped them off 30 seconds ago. AND you literally have your own order right there.”
He smiles.
And for a few minutes, things feel normal.
Then his expression changes, and the smile fades.
“What?” I ask.
He looks down at the table.
“I've never done this before. Completely misread the signals, you know?”
“Allie?”
He nods.
There it is.
The name that has been haunting him for weeks.
"I just don't get how I was wrong about her."
I lean back.
“Because sometimes we don't see people as they are, but as we want them to be.”
He laughs softly.
“That's depressing.”
“It’s also true.”
“I thought it was different with her.”
The words catch me off guard.
Because I understand that too well.
“I know.”
“And I thought...” He pauses. “Being her friend, but wanting more, I just-.”
My heart aches.
Because I know exactly what that feels like.
“Dean.”
“What?”
His eyes lift to mine.
“You are funny, and incredibly kind. You have this ability to brighten any room you enter. You make people feel seen. If Allie couldn't see it, it's truly her loss.”
His eyes lift to mine.
“There is a girl out there who will choose you. Loudly. Without hesitation. She'll make you feel understood and celebrated, and she is worth waiting for.”
The silence stretches.
For one second, I wonder if he hears the second meaning behind my words.
He doesn’t... of course he doesn’t.
Dean looks down at his fries.
I can't handle the tension.
"And if you ever repeat any of that, I will deny it."
He reaches across the table and steals another fry.
I smack his hand.
“Seriously?”
“What? Emotional conversations make me hungry.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet.”
“And yet what?”
He grins.
“You’re still here.”
"For now."
I mean it as a tease, something light. Something he’ll laugh at.
But Dean doesn't. His smile fades just slightly.
“What does that mean?”
I look down at my plate.
“Nothing.”
Because the truth is too embarrassing to say out loud.
It means I don't know how much longer I can love someone who only ever loves me back halfway.
I manage to change the subject and brush it off, we finish the meal and Dean drops me back off at my dorm.
Dean actually feels lighter when he walks back in the hockey house.
Not fixed.
Not magically over Allie.
But lighter.
And Logan notices immediately.
Logan has always been annoyingly good at reading people.
“You look alive.”
Dean looks over.
“What?”
Logan smirks.
“I said you look alive.”
“Thanks?”
“No, seriously.” Logan shakes his head. “This is the first time you’ve looked like yourself in weeks.”
Dean shrugs, trying to act like it’s not a big deal.
“Y/N dragged me out of bed, forced food into me, and insulted me for two hours.”
“Sounds about right.”
“She’s annoying.”
“She is.”
Dean smiles slightly.
“But?”
Logan raises an eyebrow.
Dean looks away.
“But she’s good at this.”
“At what?”
“Making things better.”
Logan is quiet for a second.
Then:
“Yeah.”
Something about the way he says it makes Dean look over.
“What?”
Logan leans back.
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
Logan sighs.
“I just think it’s funny.”
“What is?”
“You.”
Dean frowns.
“What about me?”
“You’ve spent the last three weeks acting like your life ended because Allie didn’t choose you.”
Dean’s expression hardens.
“She didn’t just not choose me.”
“I know.”
“She knew how I felt.”
“I know.”
“And she still—”
“I know, Dean.”
Logan’s voice softens.
That’s what shuts him up.
Because Logan gets it.
Then he says:
“But you know what’s interesting?”
Dean narrows his eyes.
“What?”
“You have had someone choosing you every single day for years.”
Dean stares.
“What are you talking about?”
Logan looks at him like the answer is obvious.
“Y/n.”
The name makes something in Dean’s chest shift.
“What about her?”
Logan laughs once.
“That’s exactly my point.”
Dean rolls his eyes.
“She’s my best friend.”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“So you say that like it explains everything.”
“It does.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Logan sits forward.
“Dean, be honest with me.”
“I am.”
“Are you?”
Dean looks annoyed.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then answer this.”
Logan points at him.
“Who do you call when something good happens?”
Dean opens his mouth.
Then stops.
“Y/n”
“Who do you call when something bad happens?”
“Y/n.”
“Who calls you out on your bullshit when you’re lying?”
Dean doesn't answer.
“Who knows when you’re upset before you even admit it?”
Silence.
Logan nods.
“Exactly.”
Dean shakes his head.
“That’s what best friends do.”
“Sure.”
Logan shrugs.
“Except most people don’t spend eight years making one person their entire emotional support system.”
Dean looks away.
“She’s important to me.”
“I know.”
“She’s my family.”
“I know.”
“So what are you saying?”
Logan studies him.
“I’m saying Y/N has basically been your girlfriend for years.”
Dean immediately laughs.
“What?”
“Without the title.”
“No.”
“Without the benefits.”
“Logan.”
“What?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Logan nods.
“Then answer me this.”
Dean waits.
“When was the last time Y/N was in a serious relationship?”
Dean frowns.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
“She dates.”
“Barely.”
“That’s not true.”
“Dean.”
Logan gives him a look.
“She’s had people interested in her constantly.”
Dean knows that.
He’s seen it.
Guys asking about her, flirting with her, trying to take her out.
And every time, she's had some excuse.
“She just hasn’t found the right guy.”
“Or maybe she’s been waiting for a certain hockey player to get his shit together.”
Dean’s stomach twists.
“No.”
Logan raises an eyebrow.
“No?”
“No.”
“You sound very sure.”
“Because I know Y/N.”
Logan smiles slightly.
“Do you?”
That annoys him. Because yes, of course he does. He knows everything about me. My coffee order. The way I tap her fingers when I'm nervous. The fact that I hate scary movies but watch them anyway because everyone else likes them. The fact that I can't eat when I'm upset.
I'm his best friend.
That’s all.
“She doesn’t like me like that.”
Logan laughs.
“Okay.”
“What?”
“You’re actually unbelievable.”
“I’m serious.”
“Then let me ask you something.”
Dean sighs.
“What?”
“If I asked her out, you’d be fine with that?”
The question hits harder than expected.
“What?”
Logan shrugs.
“If you two are just friends, it shouldn’t bother you.”
Dean immediately feels something ugly twist in his chest.
It’s not anger.
Not exactly.
But it’s something.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
Because.
The thought appears before he can stop it.
Because I'm his.
The realization makes him uncomfortable.
“She wouldn’t say yes.”
Logan’s eyebrows lift.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You didn’t say you wouldn’t want me to.”
Dean goes quiet.
Logan smiles.
“Personally, I think you’re full of shit.”
Dean scoffs.
“Thanks.”
“But I’m also not blind.”
Logan stands.
“Y/N is one of the best people I know.”
Dean looks down.
“I know.”
"Any guy would be lucky to have her."
And then he walks away, leaving Dean sitting there stuck with his thoughts.
He wants to dismiss it.
Logan is wrong.
I'm his best friend. That’s it.
Except suddenly, every memory feels different.
The way I looked at him at lunch. The way I always knew exactly what to say. The way I told him there was someone out there who would choose him. The way I said it like I was talking about someone else.
And for the first time in years, Dean starts wondering:
Why wasn’t it her?
And the even more terrifying question:
Why did the idea of someone else choosing her bother him so much?
Dean tries not to think about it, he really does.
For the first hour, he convinces himself that Logan is just being Logan. Overanalyzing. Starting problems where there aren't any.
That night, he’s lying in bed staring at his phone, and he realizes something that makes his stomach drop.
He almost texts me.
Not because he needs something.
Not because he’s upset.
Just because he wants to tell me about a stupid video Tucker sent him.
Like he always does.
His thumb hovers over my name.
And suddenly, Logan’s voice comes back.
You have had someone choosing you every single day for years.
Dean locks his phone.
It is ridiculous. Logan is ridiculous.
Over the next week, he starts noticing things he has never let himself notice. Not new things.
That’s what makes it worse: he's noticing things that have always been there.
He notices me bringing him coffee after early morning practices. He notices the way I defend him in front of our friends. The way I never ask for anything from him in return.
That's what gets to him. Because what does he do for me in return? Offer friendship. Provide a place beside him while he gave his heart away to everyone else?
When we meet up for our weekly lunch, Dean is nervous around me for the first time.
Which is crazy. It's me. The same girl he has been eating lunch with for four years.
But now? Now every interaction feels like a test.
Because what if Logan is right?
What if he has been blind?
What if she really does love him?
And worse:
What if he tells her and he's wrong again?
He starts by asking harmless questions.
They’re walking to the cafeteria.
“So…”
Y/N looks over.
“That sounds suspicious.”
Dean laughs.
“Can’t I just say so?”
“Normal people can. You cannot. Your 'so' is always weighted.”
“I ask normal things.”
“Do you?”
I smile.
And it almost makes him forget why he was asking.
Almost.
“So… what?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You were saying so.”
Right.
He looks away.
“Do you think people can ruin a friendship by dating?”
The question catches me off guard.
“What?”
“When friends fall for eachother and it doesn't work out, do you think it automatically ruins the friendship?”
She studies him.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Well, it can be awkward to be friends with someone who doesn't feel the same way. They might need space to sort out their feelings. It also depends on why they didn't work out.”
Dean swallows.
"Do you think it's worth trying?"
My expression changes slightly.
“The way I see it is you have to decide if you rather take the risk or live with the regret.”
The answer should make him feel better, but it doesn't. Because there is still uncertainty.
"Is this where you finally tell me that you're secretly gay and have a crush on Beau?" I ask to break the tension.
Dean almost trips, and I break out laughing.
Later that night, Dean finds Logan again.
“You were wrong.”
Logan looks up.
“About?”
“Y/N.”
Logan smiles.
“I wasn’t.”
Dean runs a hand through his hair.
“She didn’t say anything.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know.”
Dean gets frustrated.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I do.”
Logan’s expression softens.
“You’re scared.”
Dean looks away.
“I just…”
He struggles to say it.
Because Dean doesn’t admit fear easily.
“I can’t lose her.”
And Logan’s expression changes.
“And if I’m wrong about Y/N…”
He swallows.
“She’s not like Allie.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Dean looks at him.
“Allie broke my heart.”
A pause.
“Y/N would destroy me.”
“You’re making a choice based entirely on the worst possible outcome.”
Dean doesn’t respond.
“You’re assuming you tell her, she says no, and everything falls apart.”
“Because it could.”
“Yes.”
Logan nods.
“It could.”
A beat.
“But what if you don’t lose her?”
Dean’s expression shifts slightly.
“What?”
“What if you don’t lose her and instead you get to love her, properly?”
The words settle somewhere deep.
Somewhere Dean doesn’t want them to.
“I don’t—”
“Listen.”
Logan cuts him off.
“Dean, it is obvious to anyone who knows you that the two of you are perfect for each other.”
Dean opens his mouth.
Logan raises a hand.
“No. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Immediately come up with reasons why it wouldn’t work.”
Dean goes quiet.
Because that is exactly what he was about to do.
“She knows you better than anyone.”
“She’s my best friend.”
“And she loves you.”
Dean freezes.
Logan watches his reaction carefully.
Not because he’s trying to prove a point.
Because he thinks Dean already knows.
“You can deny whether it’s romantic all you want. But don’t pretend Y/N doesn’t love you.”
Dean swallows.
“She loves me because I’m her friend.”
“Maybe.”
Logan shrugs.
“Maybe not.”
The uncertainty bothers him more than an answer would.
“Y/N isn’t going to wait around forever.”
Dean’s chest tightens.
That’s the part he doesn’t want to think about.
“So you can risk telling her and losing her…”
Logan pauses.
“Or you can wait and actually lose her to a guy that’s not afraid to admit how he feels about her.”
The room goes silent.
And suddenly Dean isn’t thinking about rejection.
He’s thinking about someone else making me laugh. Someone else walking me home. Someone else knowing the little things about me that Dean has spent years memorizing.
The jealousy is immediate and terrifying.
It doesn’t feel like friendship, not anymore.
“I hate you.”
Logan laughs softly.
"You hate that I'm right."
"Whatever."
"I'm going to start charging you for these sessions. And if you and Y/n do get together, I feel like I've earned the right to be best man at your wedding...oo or the godfather of your first child...or you could name your son Logan..."
"You are ridiculous."
That weekend after the boys won their game, the hockey house is exactly what everyone expects. Loud. Crowded. A disaster waiting to happen.
Music shakes the walls, people are packed into every room, and there are enough empty cups lying around that Tucker has already declared himself “the only responsible person here,” which is hilarious considering he’s currently trying to convince someone that a traffic cone is a legitimate party decoration.
Dean should be having fun.
Usually, this is where he thrives.
The attention. The noise. The easy conversations.
The ability to walk into any room and make everyone feel like they know him.
Except tonight, his eyes keep searching.
And he hates it.
Because he knows exactly who he’s looking for.
Y/N.
He tells himself it’s because he wants to make sure I'm having fun.
Because that’s normal.
He sees me.
Except I'm not alone.
He stops.
Because one of his teammates is standing in front of me.
Birdie.
And Birdie is leaning closer, saying something that Dean can’t hear over the music.
Then I laugh.
Not my polite laugh. Not the one I give when someone says something mildly funny. My real laugh. The one where my eyes crinkle and my entire face lights up.
Dean felt something ugly twist in his chest.
Jealousy.
It wasn't the laugh that bothered him.
It was the way I looked at Birdie afterward, like I wanted to hear what he had to say next. Like, I was curious about him.
He watched as I pushed at Birdie’s chest lightly. Playfully.
Birdie is a good guy. Dean's known him for years. Everyone likes him; he’s funny, he’s kind. He’s not some asshole Dean can hate to make himself feel better. And that somehow makes it worse.
“You look like you’re about to fight someone.”
Dean doesn’t even turn around.
“I'm fine.”
Beau’s eyebrows lift.
“Interesting. Because your face says you’re about three seconds away from throwing someone through a wall.”
Dean finally looks over.
“Not you too.”
Beau frowns.
“Not me too what?”
Dean gestures vaguely toward Y/N.
A slow smile spreads across Beau’s face.
“Oh.”
“No.”
“Oh, this is funny.”
“Don’t.”
Beau crosses his arms.
“Dude.”
“No.”
"You are totally jealous right now."
“Am not.”
“You’re so in love with her.”
Dean immediately shakes his head.
“I’m not.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious.”
“Sure.”
Dean opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Beau continues.
“Dean, I’ve seen you with girls.”
The words make him uncomfortable.
“Okay?”
“You flirt. You have fun. You like the attention. It's all fun, no feelings.”
Dean looks away.
“But with Y/N?”
Beau looks back toward me.
“You’re different. It's all feelings.”
“I’m not doing this.”
Beau laughs.
“You’re literally proving my point.”
“Shut up.”
“No.”
Beau turns.
“Garrett!”
Dean immediately rolls his eyes.
“Oh, come on.”
Garrett walks over, looking suspicious.
“What?”
Beau points between Dean and I.
“Tell him.”
Garrett follows his gaze.
A small smile appears.
“Oh.”
Dean groans.
“Nope. Not doing this. I think it's time for shots.”
"Maybe then you'll man up and ask your girlfriend out," Garrett laughs.
"You guys are crazy."
"Whatever you need to tell yourself," Beau say, clapping him on the shoulder.
Garrett nods towards me.
“Go talk to her.”
Dean looks over.
“She’s talking to Birdie.”
“So?”
Dean hesitates.
And Beau laughs.
“Dude.”
Dean looks at him.
"You act like talking to her is suddenly terrifying. She's still Y/n."
Dean doesn’t have an answer. Because the thing is that it is terrifying because I'm the one person whose rejection would actually matter. The one person he can't lose.
And suddenly Logan's words come rushing back.
You can risk telling her and losing her.
Or you can wait and actually lose her to a guy that's not afraid.
Dean looks back towards me.
And for the first time, the possibility of losing me doesn't feel hypothetical. It feels like it's already happening.
He finds me later outside.
Because somehow, even in a house full of people, he always finds me.
I'm sitting on the porch steps, holding a cup of water between my hands.
“Hey.”
I look up, a smile immediately appears.
“Hey.”
“You hiding?”
I shrug.
“Taking a break.”
“From?”
I gesture toward the house.
“People.”
Dean laughs softly.
“Fair.”
He sits beside me. And for a few minutes, we just exist.
Like we always do.
No pressure. No expectations. Just us.
Which somehow makes everything harder. Because this has always been the easiest thing in the world.
Being with me. Talking to me. Loving me.
The last thought makes him freeze.
Because there it is.
The truth he has been avoiding.
“So.”
I look over.
“That sounds suspicious.”
Dean smiles slightly.
“Why do you always say that?”
“Because whenever you say ‘so,’ it means you’re about to ask something you don’t want the answer to.”
He hesitates.
"Am I wrong?"
Dean looks at me. But it's different. Because he's seeing it now. The way I know him better than he knows himself at times. I always have.
“Am I that obvious?”
“To me?”
I smile.
“Yeah.”
Dean looks down.
There’s a moment where he almost laughs it off.
Almost makes a joke.
Almost lets the fear win.
But then he remembers me laughing with Birdie.
The way I looked at him.
The way someone else could easily step into the place Dean had finally realized he wanted.
“Do you like Birdie?”
The question surprises me.
“What?”
“Birdie.”
I studied him for a moment.
“Why?”
“I’m asking.”
She looks away.
“I don’t know.”
That answer makes his stomach drop.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I think he’s nice.”
“Do you like him?”
I'm quiet.
Then:
“I could.”
Dean feels like someone punched the air out of him, like he's running out of time.
“He’s a good guy.”
I look at him.
“He is.”
Dean nods.
“Yeah.”
But he isn’t me.
The thought scares him more than he wants to admit.
Silence settles between them.
Then, because he doesn’t know what else to say, he falls back on the thing he has always said.
“I just want you to be happy.”
The words come out automatically.
I look at him.
“You always say that.”
Dean frowns.
“What?”
I look down at my hands.
“You always tell me I deserve to be happy.”
His chest tightens.
“What if…”
His voice catches.
I look over.
“What?”
Dean takes a breath.
“What if I finally figured out that I’m the one who wants to make you happy?”
The world feels like it has stopped.
I go completely still.
“Dean…”
He shakes his head slightly.
“No, just let me say this.”
Because if he stops now, he knows he’ll never start again.
“I love you.”
My eyes immediately fill.
And somehow, saying it out loud feels terrifying and freeing all at once.
“I love you, Y/N.”
A shaky breath leaves him.
“And I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out.”
I don't say anything, so he keeps going.
“After Allie…”
He swallows.
“I thought I knew what was real. I thought I understood how someone felt about me, and I was wrong.”
My expression softens.
“And I couldn’t do that again.”
His voice drops.
“Not with you.”
A pause.
“Because losing you would ruin me.”
My eyes shine.
“Dean…”
“But then Logan said something to me.”
A small laugh escapes him.
“Actually, everyone has been saying something to me because apparently I’m the last person on earth to figure things out.”
That gets the smallest smile.
And he needs that.
“I was so caught up on what would happen if I told you and you didn’t feel the same.”
He looks down.
“And I never thought about what would happen if I didn’t.”
I go still.
“What?”
Dean looks back at me.
“What if I don’t lose you?”
His voice is quiet.
“What if I’m not wrong this time?”
A tear slips down my cheek.
“What if everything actually works out?”
He searches my face, like he’s still waiting for the worst.
Instead, I laugh softly through my tears.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that?”
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
It almost comes out as a laugh.
I shake my head, smiling.
“You are such an idiot.”
“I know.”
“No, seriously.”
I wipe at my cheeks.
“You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”
Dean smiles.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“Because I have loved you for so long.”
His expression changes.
“I was just waiting for you to realize I wasn’t going anywhere.”
And that’s the part that breaks him. She had waited through everything, just wanted him to choose her.
And finally, finally, he does.
He reaches for her hand.
“Your idiot?”
I laugh.
“Unfortunately.”
Dean smiles.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah.”
He squeezes my hand.
“Because I think I’ve spent enough time being an idiot without you.”
She laughs again.
And that sound.
That laugh.
The one he has loved forever.
Finally belongs to him in a way he was brave enough to admit.
“My idiot boyfriend,” she says softly.
Dean freezes.
Then smiles.
“Boyfriend?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Yes, Dean.”
A pause.
“My idiot boyfriend who I’ve been in love with longer than I care to admit.”
Dean realized that moving on had never been about forgetting someone. It was about finally seeing the person who had been standing beside him all along.
