I write when I can. Supernatural. Marvel. Dean Winchester, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes writer. Request are closed at the moment, but I will get to the ones sent in when I can! xoxox Wattpad: justkending 26 years old. She/Her. Masterlist
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who's fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too...
A/N: Currently on a series rewrite. Please know that any chapters without the ((Rewritten) next to it may still follow the storyline, but writing styles have changed and will differ from what’s to come. (The characters written about, are not my own. Copyright goes to Supernatural and Warner Brothers.)
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who’s fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too…
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 3700+
Chapter 36:
Spring Break was next week, and Dean had taken it upon himself to schedule my doctor's appointments with a long-time family friend of theirs. Apparently, he was both theirs and Jessie's delivery doctor, making the Winchesters very fond of him. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't retired yet, but Dean swears up and down that he's still in his prime even at his older age.
As I'm getting my bag together for work, Dean comes in the kitchen behind me, hanging up the phone, which I gather was Sam on the other end.
"Ok, your appointment is set for next Tuesday at 9:30 with Dr. Roberts. I already told the firehouse I'd be coming in a little late, but we may need an angel above to keep me from spilling my guts to them on the why," he rambles, coming in and leaning his hip against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, and biceps bulging in his favorite, and well-loved, black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. I find myself pausing my packing and just staring at them. "You know what? I should take the whole day off. Should just stay home and not even chance getting too excited and telling Benny, Cas, Bobby, or god forbid, Helen that we're expecting. And you know me. The chances are high. The chances are very, very high," he blows out a breath from his lips and turns to look at me, seeing me practically salivating at his arms. "Babe..."
"Hm?" I say, swallowing and blinking out of my daze.
"You're staring. And I'm pretty sure I see a little bit of drool." His grin tells me he's not mad at the action. "Turned on?" He wiggles his eyebrows.
I clear my throat and shake my head, my gaze still going back to his arms anyway. "You can't have those out when I'm in a rush to get to work and coked up on pregnancy hormones."
"My arms? I'm not allowed to have my arms out now?"
"Stop looking fine, and maybe I can get to work without sex-hair for once. And we all know you love sending me on my way in that state..." I huff, annoyed that I can't act on my urges. "Jesus, I had to lie to one of the Barbies," (the 4th grade teacher cliche), "the other day about some new volumizing spray I've been using lately has helped me achieve the 90's blow-out look she was jealous of."
"Well, you should have run with it and told her you're getting fucked properly by your sexy, god-like-in-bed, firefighter baby daddy. It's the only guaranteed way to get that look." He winks before laughing at my eyeroll and then pushes off the counter, coming and bearhugging me into his chest.
"Yeah, that ego's got your head a little too big. I'm losing the turned-on itches," I muffle into his chest that I'm being suffocated against.
"Sorry, sweetheart. No sexy firefighter hookups for now," he sighs, completely acting like he didn't hear me, and rocking me slightly in my spot. "You have twenty-two 3rd graders to wrangle two days before spring break. You're going to need that energy going somewhere else."
"I'm sorry..." I scoff with a playful attitude, pulling back enough to look up at him. "Are you actually denying me my needs? Needs that you seemed pretty damn excited to meet about 25 minutes ago when you had me pinned and primed before I could blink my first blink of the day?"
A slight growl in the back of his throat shows me it was a recent, pleasant image for him to reminisce about. "Yes, it quite literally physically ales me to do so," he drags out, acting wounded, by grabbing his chest before squeezing me back into the hug. "But you're late, and Jessie needs a ride to school, Ms. Carter, one day to be Mrs.Winchester. Come on. You're running behind." He squeezes my shoulders as he twirls me around and points me towards the hall that leads to the front door. "Off you go to teach the future generations."
"I don't like you being responsible right now."
"You will when you learn all my plans for the day later. But for now," he gives me a pat on the butt just as we enter the living room, and he continues to direct me towards the door. "I'll send you a dick pic to compensate."
"Maybe not," I scrunch my face cause normally, yeah sure, but not when I'm managing a group of eight-year-olds.
"Yeah, you're right—poor timing. Either way, I'll take care of you tonight, and I'll worry about the other things today for my day off. Now, go." The door's open, and I'm crossing the threshold with the help of Dean's stupid, mouth-watering biceps.
"Oh, for dinner tonight, can you lay out the chicken-"
"I got dinner covered. Scram," he shoos me away and is about to step out to walk me to my car when I relent.
"Alright, alright. I'm going. I'm going," I step down the porch steps one at a time. "I'll be home around four. I'll see you then."
"Four it is. Oh!" he shouts and runs down the porch at a quickened pace. "Almost forgot." Before I have a second to process, he's bending down at the waist and kissing my belly that's not even close to showing yet. "Bye, peanut. Daddy will see you later." He kisses it one more time before standing up and pecking me on the lips. "Drive safe. Love you."
"Should I be expecting that every time I leave the house now?" I chuckle, opening my car door.
"I'd say so. Never know what could happen," he shruggs, and although it's a nonchalant action, I know he's got his own anxieties running through his mind.
"Love you, D. I'll be home later," I smile softly in assurance, and open my car door.
"Hey, Y/N/N!" he shouts as he runs up the porch, quickly turning to face me. "Take it easy, ok?" The pull of his lips in genuine love and concern all but melts me.
"For you? Always."
_____________________
The day before break, Dean had surprised me by decorating the nursery with some of his childhood furniture. And though we had agreed not to do anything until our twelve-week check-up, I couldn't be mad at the man who made such a sweet gesture.
The crib and rocking chair he'd hauled in and set up were both from his and Sam's old nursery. The crib may not be up to code for this day and age of parenting, but we'd make the modifications to make it work, considering how much it felt like it fit.
The rocking chair was just as special, having been rebuilt by both Sam and him for Jessie's nursery after some damage from a house fire when they were teenagers. On the arm, widdled into the rest, were an S.W. and a D.W. for their initials. It was beautifully loved and clearly crafted with intention, and I was happy to have inherited it for our child.
Spring break quickly approached and seemed to already be flying by three days in.
"How long until we know the gender?" Dean asks as he messes with the utensils lying on the doctor's tray by the ultrasound tech.
"Stop touching that," I chide, adjusting on the slanted bed they had me on. "And 18-20 weeks for the more accurate reading. You know that. You were the one who read that to me the other day."
"Oh yeah," he sighs, restraining himself as he pulls his hands back and puts them behind his back to try and keep from fidgeting. "Sorry, I'm nervous."
"I know, D," I grin softly, not wanting to laugh at him, but also finding his nerves adorable. "Come sit over here. He should be in any minute."
He takes my direction and sits in the chair next to me, finding my hand on the table, squeezing it as I watch his knee bounce slightly.
"Babe. Why are you nervous? It's just an ultrasound check-in. Nothing crazy."
He lets out a little grunt sound and sighs. "I don't know. I honestly don't."
I squeeze his hand and brush my thumb over his knuckles. "Deep breaths. We're in good hands, and everything is going to be fine. Promise."
His mouth opens to, what I'm sure is, share more of his anxieties about the situation, but the knock at the door draws both our attentions away.
"Hello, can I come in?" Dr. Roberts is heard on the other side.
I give him the all clear, and he opens the door fully, stepping in and smiling at us. Dean is on his feet in seconds, extending his hand before the two hug.
"Dean, a pleasure to see you, son," Dr. Roberts smiles and returns the hug.
"Dr. Roberts. Can't begin to tell you how happy I am to know you're still in business," Dean clings for a second before finally releasing him.
"Well, the wife says I have to keep at it until we've paid off that beach house she made me buy her," he winks before approaching me. "Ms. Carter. It's a privilege to meet you finally. Dean wasn't able to end the phone call without telling me all about you."
I take his hand, he extends and shakes it as he places his other hand on top and pats it gently.
"And he's told me so much about you as well. We're truly lucky to have you for this journey."
he appointment carries on
If tomorrow goes anything like today did, I'm going to go into a coma for the entirety of spring break. Last day tomorrow, and then I can breathe. And a week is nothing close to what I need right now. I feel like I can sleep through next month.
"Ugh," I groan loudly and tiredly after finally peeling myself off my car's leather interior from my disassociated autopilot ride home.
"Coming! Coming!" I hear Dean's hurried feet head from what sounds like the spare bedrooms hall and slide along the wood floor in front of where I'm coming into the mudroom. A wide grin grows across his lips. "Hey, Beautiful."
My shoulders slouch, my head tilts to the side some, and my lips pout in response.
His face slowly mimics mine. "Long day?" I nod. "So it didn't get better after the mean girl revenge haircut?" I shake my head. "Bummer."
He's talking about the girl fight I had to settle and then later call home and have a conference about, that happened in my room. Hence why I'm an hour late coming home.
"I'm sorry, baby," he comes at me with his arms open, lowering some to wrap his arms around my middle, and then scoops me up. I don't hesitate to wrap my arms around his shoulders and let him stretch me out like a cat. It feels nice and helps me take a deep breath.
"I'll survive... At least I hope I can because I have another day of it," I grumble into his shoulder as he starts to scratch my back.
"Will those two girls be there?" he asks.
"No, the principal decided to send them home early for the break. They had a conference with the parents and came to the same conclusion to keep them home tomorrow."
"Good. Then two fewer troublemakers for tomorrow. See? It's already looking up," he hums, pulling back and smiling at me. "I have something else that may make you feel better."
"Yeah?" I hummed.
"Yeah, come on."
He takes my hand, guiding me through the halls until we reach the nursery. We stopped right outside the shut door, where he stood in front of it and put a hand on the handle.
"Ok, now I know we decided to hold off on a few things until we were further into the pregnancy, but the few things I got were already available and had easy transport," he smiles dopily as he waits for my reaction. I raise a brow, slightly skeptical, and tilt my head. He shakes his head before I can even get the thought out. "No questions. Just see."
With that, he turns the handle and pushes the door open, showing the cleaned-out room now holding a crib and a rocking chair. Both are made of a beautiful wood that I can tell has slight wear, but are still in great condition. The crib is in a similar state, yet it's polished with a stain, making it seem like it was just pulled out of the archives of our childhood years.
"Is that..." I take a step in. He's stopped at the door and watches me as I take in the room. "Where'd you get that?"
"It's mine. Well, it's Sammy's and mine, but yeah. It's a family artifact." I turn to see him smiling softly in pride, and he nods his head over to the rocking chair. "Mom said she'd sew us some cushions for it, but it's a solid chair. We had one just like it when we were growing up, but a freak accident had it in ruins, so," he shrugs. "We remade it right before Jessie was born. Here, come look," he walks in and kneels next to the chair. "On the armrest," he points to the armrest right where a hand would lie, and I see the initials S.W. and D.W. next to each other, obviously widdled into it.
My face turns to a pout of genuine comfort at the initials and the furniture that's clearly near and dear to his heart.
"Now, I won't be offended if you don't want the crib. I'm not even sure if it's up to regulations for this era of parenting, but the rocking chair I thought was a nice touch. Well, that and it's sentimental obviously-"
"Dean," I cut him off, knowing he's growing nervous for my approval.
"Yeah?" He turns to me, eyes wide with hope.
"It's beautiful. I love both of them," I smile, kneeling next to him and cupping his face before pulling him into a kiss. When I pull back, he's softened and gazing into my eyes lovingly. "They're perfect."
"Yeah?" he sighs out, leaning forward and placing lazy kisses between his words. "You're happy with it? I didn't overstep."
"You'd have to have poor intentions for it to be overstepping. It's precious, Dean." I turn, running my hand over the wood.
"Good. I'm glad you like it," he smiles at me, watching my action with glee.
_________________
The day before break, Dean had surprised me by decorating the nursery with some of his childhood furniture. And though we had agreed not to do anything until our twelve-week check-up, I couldn't be mad at the man who made such a sweet gesture.
The crib and rocking chair he'd hauled in and set up were both from his and Sam's old nursery. The crib may not be up to code for this day and age of parenting, but we'd make the modifications to make it work, considering how much it felt like it fit.
The rocking chair was just as special, having been rebuilt by both Sam and him for Jessie's nursery after some damage from a house fire when they were teenagers. On the arm, widdled into the door, were an S.W. and a D.W. for their initials. It was beautifully loved and clearly crafted with intention, and I was happy to have inherited it for our child.
Spring break quickly approached and seemed to already be flying by three days in.
"How long until we know the gender?" Dean asks as he messes with the utensils lying on the doctor's tray by the ultrasound tech.
"Stop touching that," I chide, adjusting on the slanted bed they had me on. "And 18-20 weeks for the more accurate reading. You know that. You were the one who read that to me the other day."
"Oh yeah," he sighs, restraining himself as he pulls his hands back and puts them behind his back to try and keep from fidgeting. "Sorry, I'm nervous."
"I know, D," I grin softly, not wanting to laugh at him, but also finding his nerves adorable. "Come sit over here. He should be in any minute."
He takes my direction and sits in the chair next to me, finding my hand on the table, squeezing it as I watch his knee bounce slightly.
"Babe. Why are you nervous? It's just an ultrasound check-in. Nothing crazy."
He lets out a little grunt sound and sighs. "I don't know. I honestly don't."
I squeeze his hand and brush my thumb over his knuckles. "Deep breaths. We're in good hands, and everything is going to be fine. Promise."
His mouth opens to, what I'm sure is, share more of his anxieties about the situation, but the knock at the door draws both our attentions away.
"Hello, can I come in?" Dr. Roberts is heard on the other side.
I give him the all clear, and he opens the door fully, stepping in and smiling at us. Dean is on his feet in seconds, extending his hand before the two hug.
"Dean, a pleasure to see you, son," Dr. Roberts smiles and returns the hug.
"Dr. Roberts. Can't begin to tell you how happy I am to know you're still in business," Dean clings for a second before finally releasing him.
"Well, the wife says I have to keep at it until we've paid off that beach house she made me buy her," he winks before approaching me. "Ms. Carter. It's a privilege to meet you finally. Dean wasn't able to end the phone call without telling me all about you."
I take his hand, he extends and shakes it as he places his other hand on top and pats it gently.
"And he's told me so much about you as well. We're truly lucky to have you for this journey."
The appointment seems to go on without any hitches, aside from Dean making a few nervous, awkward remarks that neither Dr. Roberts nor me phased. The baby seems healthy and growing as expected.
When we get home, Poppy is more than thrilled that we're both home on a weekday, and we bring the takeout we grabbed to the back porch and eat out there while Dean throws the ball for her.
"What about Rocky?" Dean asks, using the throwing stick we bought after realizing how much a basset slobbers.
"Rocky? As in Balboa?" I repeat with a chuckle as I watch Poppy run out of speed already after the fourth ball thrown.
"Yeah, it's badass, and it's unique. I think it'd be fitting for a girl or a boy."
"It sounds like a name for a raccoon I'd find digging through the dumpster at 3 am."
"Hey, now. Respect the legend," Dean points a finger at me.
"I'm trying to respect our unborn child's livelihood in the future, and not get him bullied by being named like we're world-renowned mountain climbers."
"Interesting perspective," he hums, turning and watching Poppy putter out and lie flat on her belly with a huff before lazily watching the rolly pollys instead of the ball. "And she's out." He perks up and turns back to me. "What about Nicks?"
"Nicks? Like the New York Nicks?" A brow raises.
"No, like Stevie Nicks. Fleetwood Mac."
"I'm not going to convince you to name our child of anything other than a rock star or famous figure from the 70s, am I?"
There was a moment of silence as we just stared at one another and blinked.
"Probably not."
"Figures."
___________
As we get ready for bed, Dean comes in from the bathroom, still giving name ideas.
"Ok, how about this..." His hands come up as if bracketing the name in the air. "Arrowsm-"
"I'm gonna stop you right there before you finish that thought. I love your creativity, babe, but there is a way to incorporate it into our name game without it having copyright issues."
He sighs and relents for the night as he pats the end of the bed to encourage Poppy to come up, and then crawls into his side of the bed.
"Sue me for wanting to give the kid some character before he can talk," he mumbles, but I can hear the lightheartedness in his tone.
"Dean, he's a product of you and me. He'll be fine."
"True-" he starts, but then turns to me and narrows his eyes. "You keep saying he. Do you think it's a he?"
I chuckle as I lean over, turning off my lamp, and scoot more under the covers. "No, I have no clue. I guess 'he' just comes naturally."
"Which means it's probably a boy," he argues, turning off his light next, our room ghosted into dark for a split second before I hear the click of the remote and the TV turns on as he puts on our show for the night. "Isn't that an old wives' tale?"
"What? Referring to a kid by he or she because you don't know yet? I ask, scooting closer to his body heat.
"Yeah. Womanly intuition or something." His arm comes up to welcome me into his side.
"Not sure on that one, but if it helps you sleep."
"I'm gonna choose to believe it."
"Well, if we're going by that logic..." I chuckle sarcastically.
"Do you not agree?" He looks down at me, moving some hair out of my face.
I ponder the idea and really try to feel for an inkling of what I think the gender is. "Honestly, something's telling me it's a girl. That is if we're going by gut feelings." He doesn't seem disappointed or really changed in his feelings about the debate at all. "Don't you want a boy?"
"I want a healthy kid, sweetheart. Sure, a boy would be great in teaching the tricks of the trade and all, and sports, and all the other stereotypical things I could come up with, but I can teach those things to a girl too. I mean, look at Jessie. She's about to be a soccer state champ in her high school career. I'm calling it now."
I smile because the idea of Dean as a girl dad is something I've already got a glimpse of with Jesse and I'd be more than happy to give him and me that reality. But also, a boy for him to bond with in all the ways Jesse wasn't interested in is sweet too.
"Well then. I guess we have to wait and see. Until then, it's just 'kid'." I say hand on my belly.
"Kid is correct," he chuckles and covers my hand with his own as we settle in for the night.
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who’s fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too…
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 3500+
Chapter 35:
"You're pregnant, Ms. Carter."
...It feels like there's water in my ears, my eyes grow strained from not blinking, and my chest feels tight all of a sudden. The nurse must see the shock on my face, and, given that I'm sure she's made this announcement many times in her career to unsuspecting mothers, she tells me what I need to hear.
"We did a blood test when you arrived to get a read on your vitamins and such. We do a quick pregnancy check for women just to be safe when it comes to medications and treatment that may follow. According to the dates you gave me for your last period, I'd make the guess you're around a month along. If your period was more spotty and bloody discharge, like you said, you shouldn't have any worries, but we're going to run a few more tests to make sure the baby is all good, and you're where you need to be. However, your iron levels were low, so we're going to prescribe Ferrous Gluconate to help even them out. Do you have any pre-existing conditions we need to know about, or medications you've been taking besides the birthcontrol we've already discussed?"
I blink. And then blink again. I don't think my gaze has left her. I know she said something, but I'm not quite sure whether it was in English or just her mouth moving and making sounds.
She seems to soften at my response and nods before approaching the side of my bed. "First time then, huh?" she smiles gently, and I nod on autopilot. "I have two of my own. First one, I was in the exact same position you were. Came in for a routine check-up, but instead of intentionally doing a pregnancy test, my nurse ran the wrong one and came in congratulating me as if I already knew. Couldn't wrap my head around it."
I swallow and nod before lifting my hand and running it through my hair some. "Can't seem to wrap my head around it either... I mean, we have been talking about kids, but..."
"Seems the universe decided for you then," she chuckles, and goes to adjust the fluid running through my IV. "Well, listen, with how the man you came in with has been acting, I don't doubt he won't be in here in the next minute. So if you want, I can give you some privacy to let you break the news to him, or I can do it myself. Whatever you feel is best."
I shake my head out of my funk enough to know I want to be the one to tell
Dean. "I can do it. Just... Still trying to believe it myself."
"Understandable. Now, how about a change of pace before he comes in? Let me get your current medications and any conditions you may have, written and in my chart, and then we'll go from there."
I take advantage of the distraction and start listing the handful of vitamins and meds I take. I tell her about past hospital visits and medical history, and about four minutes later, Dean's pushing the curtain aside and coming in quietly.
"Hey," he smiles at me and then nods at the nurse before sitting back in the chair he was in earlier, scooting it closer to the bedside, and resting his hand over mine- giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Did I miss anything important?"
He doesn't seem to notice the look the nurse and I give each other, and is more focused on the monitors, checking to see if anything changed.
"Just getting her meds and medical history. I'm going to go log these things into the system, and I'll put in the prescription for iron while I'm out. Shout if you need anything," she smiles, giving me a subtle wink as she grabs the chart, clicks a few buttons on the screen, and lets herself out.
As soon as we're back to the privacy of a single bed sheet hanging from a rod, Dean turns back to me. "So? What'd they say? Sorry, I missed it. Jessie was freaking out, and I was updating Mom and Sam on what we did know, and-" He pauses mid-sentence when he notices the dazed look in my eyes. "What's wrong?" His tone shifts immediately to protective and worried.
"Um, well, I wouldn't necessarily say wrong. I guess it depends on your viewpoint," I sigh, rubbing my eye as I try to think of a way to break this.
"Y/N. Baby, what's going on?"
I clear my throat as I look at him, my eyes shifting between his moss green ones. "How well trained would you say Poppy is?"
His brows furrow at the random question. "Um, well... She's about 8 months old now. Gonna be 9 soon. I'd say she's learned a lot for a pup her age. But, sweetheart, what does that have to do with-"
"Enough that she'd be pretty well tamed for a..." I see the confusion on his face, and I spit it out. "Another baby in the house?" Dean's eyebrows rise in surprise, and now it's his turn to blink manually. "May need to start considering that reality," I answer, never breaking my eyes from his as I scrunch my nose and shoulders in a silent 'surprise' kind of manner.
His face slowly grows into a grin, and I can't help but mirror it. "You're serious?" The excitement is evident in his voice as he lets out a nervous laugh.
I nod, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
"Y/N," he says, and the emotions are flying across his face so fast I can barely register each one. His lip tremors in a way that shows he may explode, and before I know it, his arms are around me, and he's hugging me tight as he leans over the bed to get to me. "I'm so fucking happy right now." His words are mumbled into my shoulder as I try to return the hug, but I'm hooked up to so many wires that my arms are a bit restricted.
He seems to notice and pulls back, straightening the wires and monitors before placing his hands on either side of my face. "I-I can't believe it."
"I can. You throw me over your shoulder enough that I'm surprised it hasn't happened yet," I chuckle, and the pad of his thumb brushes under my eye to catch the tears I hadn't noticed were slipping.
He laughs at that as he keeps his thumb swiping as the tears come, and he nods, kissing my forehead. "Yeah. I guess that's true." He sighs and sits on the edge of my bed carefully. "Did they say how far along you are?"
"She thinks about a month along. She said she was going to do some tests. May need to ask for a sonogram." I sniffle and wipe any remaining tears from my face with the back of my hand. "God, that feels so weird to say."
Dean chuckles as he soothes my hair back, which I'm sure is a mess considering I have no clue what I look like right now. "Yeah, well, we'd better get used to it cause it'll be our life for the next 8 months if her estimation is right."
I hum in agreement and sigh. "You know we can't tell people until about 12 weeks in, right?"
"Yeah, I know the logistics," he nods with a grin I think may be permanently etched on his face for a while. "You're feeling ok, though? No nausea or pains or aches as of now?"
I shake my head. "No. The fluids are helping," I nod to the IV bag. "She said that sometimes your body can go into shock when certain things happen during pregnancy, and it seems my low iron had more of an effect on me than it normally would."
"I'll look at your labs when they come back and double-check everything to make sure we're good to go." His hand continues the soothing patterns along my hair as he assures me. "By the way, Jessie and my mom headed out once Sam got here. Mom's going to take her back home, and Sam's gonna drive back with us since he Ubered. I'm sure he'll be asking questions about all this, so do you want to stick with the low iron side of the story and just run with that?"
I think about it and realize if anyone were to know right now, I'd like Sam to. He's a dad. He knows the world we just entered well and is probably the most trustworthy person to keep a secret with.
"We should tell him," I say, making Dean raise his eyebrows.
"You sure? The 12 weeks thing-"
"It's a suggestion, not mandatory. You and I both know Sam isn't going to go out telling the world about it. Plus, he's got experience in all this. It'd be nice to have someone in on it that gets it all."
Dean's smile grows, and he nods. "Agreed, and also, thank god. I'm not sure I can keep my mouth shut about it."
"Yeah. I know. We'll have to get a PR team to train you."
We laugh, and the nurse eventually comes back in with my prescriptions, hands out a printed sheet with all my treatment and lab results from my trip, and Dean folds it neatly into his back pocket.
"The doctor would like to get a sonogram to get a measurement of how far along you are and make sure all is well. If you're a month long, like I think, we may not seem much of anything, but I'd rather check to be safe."
We agree, and shortly after, a sonographer comes in and squirts some goop on my stomach, and we watch her click a few things on her computer as she moves the wand around, trying to find whatever she sees in the static.
A spot pops up on the computer, and she takes a few pictures and starts measuring some things. In the silence of the room, the sound of a tiny flicker of heartbeat comes through, and Dean and I both look at each other.
"Looks like you're measuring in a little over 6 weeks," she smiles. "We tend to hear the heartbeat at 6-7 weeks, and that right there," she points to the screen where we see a small bear-shaped dot. "Is your baby."
My mouth is slightly open in surprise, and Dean's hand is squeezing mine as we both gaze at the screen in awe.
"And how long until we can ask about the gender?" I ask, never tearing my eyes from the screen.
"Ten weeks and on," she answers, hitting a few more buttons and then taking the wand away and cleaning it. "It's usually done through a blood test for accuracy, and around 14-16 weeks, we can usually find the genitals on the screen and confirm. Then again, it also depends on how active the baby is. Sometimes they like to hide or cover it with their hands."
We take in the information, and she cleans me up before handing over four ultrasound pictures.
"Congrats to you guys," she nods with a smile before she leaves us.
Dean helps me out of bed, giving me a sweatshirt from his trunk and instructing me to put it on since it's raining now.
"Can't have you two getting cold now," he says, adjusting it once it's over my head and micromanaging how it sits on me.
I chuckle as I can see the paternal instincts already kicking in. "Is this what I've signed up for for the next eight months?"
"Baby, you signed up for this for life the second you let me into yours."
We head to the waiting room, where as soon as we walk in, Sam spots us and stands, meeting us in the middle.
"How'd it go? You ok, Y/N/N?" he asks, the concern written all over his puppy dog eyes.
"More than ok," I nod with a grin. "Just a surprising new development." When I look at Dean, and we share a grin, it's then that Sam catches on immediately.
"Oh, my god. You're pregnant," he says, wide-eyed, looking right at me.
"Damn. You figured that out quick," Dean replies, tilting his head in genuine surprise.
"Yeah," I second with the same look and a scoff. "What the hell?"
"Pretty easy deduction," he chuckles, pulling me into a hug and squeezing me tight but gently. "Congrats, Carter."
"Hey, I helped too!" Dean scrunches his nose, putting his hands out in offense.
Sam, non-surprisingly, rolls his eyes and turns to give his brother a hug as well. "Yeah, yeah. Congrats on getting off. But she's the one doing all the work." They pat backs like boys do, and then Dean scoffs.
"Well, shit, way to minimize my contribution."
I can't help but laugh at the two before heading to the reception desk to check out.
"Ok, I need to run by the pharmacy. They gave me a list of things I need to start taking now," I sigh as we exit the sliding doors and come back out to a rainy day.
"I'll bring the car around," Dean announces, kissing the side of my head before lightly jogging off towards the parking lot, leaving Sam and me under the cover of the emergency room entrance.
"Prenatals, omega-3's, fishoils are great too. Oh, and you may want to stock up on antacids. Jess's heartburn was horrid. Comes with having babies with a hair model," he jokingly flips his hair.
"You two do have some amazing commercial-ready hair," I laugh at him before finally taking a deep breath of the fresh air after such life-changing news. "I'm glad you know, by the way. It's obviously early, and they suggested waiting those 12 weeks before sharing with friends and family, but I'm glad we have someone in our reach who knows the whole process. I'm sure I'm gonna have questions later."
"I can promise you, Dean will be blowing up my phone more than you likely," he grins, nudging my shoulder with his. "God," he takes a deep breath in, hands in his pockets. "Would have never guessed my brother would've ended up with my daughter's 3rd-grade teacher, let alone starting a family with her." He shakes his head in wonderment as we watch Dean maneuver through the parking lot, closing in on us.
"And I would have never guessed I'd fall for his persistence. I was in a 'No-Boys-Allowed' era in my life that I wasn't planning to break for at least a year after my breakup. Then this idgit came along," I motion to Dean as he pulls up under the pergola.
Sam laughs as he moves to open the passenger door for me, but Dean's already running out of the driver's side to beat him to it.
"Move, bitch. That's my girl," he says, pushing his brother in a sibling manner before smiling at me and coaxing me into the passenger side. "Careful. Watch your head, sweetheart."
"The switch-up is crazy," Sam mumbles as he shakes his head and moves around to sit in the back of the Impala. "Get used to it, Carter. He's about to become even more of a protective asshole."
I groan at that, and Dean lets out a fake, "Ha ha," before running around back to his seat, flipping Sam off in the rearview mirror, and putting the car in drive.
He only makes it about five feet forward before he hits the brakes, making us all shift forward at it. "Wait," He puts his hand on my chest to keep me from going too far and says a quick, "Sorry, babe." Then turns back to his brother. "What happened to your date?"
My brows raise as I remember, and I turn back, looking at Sam in the backseat. "Yeah. Why didn't you tell us about the date?"
Sam gets a little flustered at the attention and scratches the back of his neck. "It went well, but then you called about being at the hospital, so I told her I'd reach out after I got everything sorted. And I didn't tell you guys cause I didn't know what to expect myself."
"Was she ok with it?" I ask, obviously curious and slightly upset that I ruined one of his first dates since Jess passed.
"Yeah, yeah," he waves off casually, pulling his phone out. "I'll update her now, but she was completely understanding. Luckily, we were nearing the end of the date anyway, so it's not a biggy."
"End of the date, huh?" Dean chimes in, turning back to the road and driving on. "So no nighttime special?" he raises his brows in quick succession in the rearview mirror with a grin.
I smack Dean in the arm, and he quickly rubs his hand over the assault with a hiss. "Ow, hey! That wasn't nice to do to your baby daddy."
"Jesus, you're on a roll…" I rub my temple, shaking my head.
"No, Dean. I wasn't planning to take her home. I was going to be a gentleman and go on a few more dates if it worked out." Sam runs a hand through his hair as he looks down at his phone.
"Sure, and then after the few dates, you would-"
"What's she like?" I cut off Dean's words of 'wisdom' before he could spew them. "Where did you meet her?"
Sam clears his throat and puts his phone up before adjusting his suit jacket. "We met through one of my co-workers. She's an art curator. She's really smart, beautiful, and has a great sense of humor. We hit it off surprisingly well, considering it was a blind date."
"Art curator? Wow, she sounds well-established. Does she know about Jessie?"
"Yeah, actually," Sam blushes slightly. "I had to move a few dates around with her because of babysitters and finding a place for Jessie in the mix of it all, and she was really understanding of it."
"That's great, Sammy," I smile back at him, turning around. "Does Jessie know, or are you waiting for it to become something more?"
"The latter," he nods, giving me a tight smile. "I don't want to put her in the mix if it doesn't work out."
"Understandable. How do you think Jessie will feel about it?" I ask, concerned, yet hopeful.
He gives an awkward chuckle and fidgets a bit. "She's actually been pretty," he clears his throat, "Um, adamant about me getting back out there. I think when you came into the picture, she pulled back in asking about finding a mother figure, but last week she asked about it again."
"You didn't tell me about that," Dean says, surprised as he looks back at him in the mirror before back to the road.
Sam shrugs. "Didn't need to. It's nothing crazy."
"Jessie asking about wanting a mom seems like something to bring up," Dean counters.
"Maybe, but I wasn't pursuing anything, so I didn't feel like something to make a big deal of." I can sense the defense slowly rising, so I break the conversation up a bit.
"Well, I'm happy the date went well. I'm sorry to have cut it short with my fainting and surprise and all." I give him an apologetic look.
His hand squeezes my shoulder, and he smiles back. "Don't apologize for giving me the news, I'm gonna be an uncle. If anything, you gave Jessie a new thing to fuss over," he winks. "But your secret is safe with me. I won't tell anyone until you guys give your announcement."
"Thanks, Sammy," I say, reaching out and squeezing his hand back.
Eventually, we drop Sam off at his place, stop at the pharmacy, and then make our way home.
After babysitting Jessie this morning, taking her to a baseball game, and ending the day with a hospital visit and a giant surprise, I'm BEAT.
"You go lie down," Dean commands after shutting the garage door and throwing the keys on the hook. "I'll worry about dinner and everything else. You need rest, food, and meds." His hands are on my shoulders, guiding me towards the bedroom.
"Dean, I'm not a fragile-"
"You collapsed today, Y/N," he stops me abruptly, turns me to face him, and grips my shoulders before lowering his gaze to meet mine. "You get your ass in bed and don't you dare leave it unless you're going to the bathroom, got it?"
I sigh because, even in my stubborn ways, I know he's right. "Fine. But only because I'm not going to say no to some pampering."
"Good. As you shouldn't. Now get that cute, pregnant ass into our bed, and I'll be in there soon to gush over the fact we're going to be parents." He turns me in my spot and smacks my ass.
I jump at the action and laugh as I walk down the hall. "No matter how pregnant I am, please never stop smacking my ass. It's how I know you love me."
"Yes, ma'am. More than happy to," he agrees as he turns and heads towards the kitchen.
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who’s fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too…
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 3500+
Chapter 33.
"Poppy, sit... Sit, Poppy. Come on, girl. You can do it, siiitt..."
The command comes from the living room, where Dean is currently trying to teach the newest addition to our household not to run out the front door when it's open.
Funny thing is, she hasn't yet. She's actually tripped on her ears while trotting to reach the door more times than actually reaching it. But if there is one thing I've learned about Dean, it's that he's highly protective and takes all the precautions to keep her from harm's way.
"Babe, can you bring me some more training treats?" I hear before it's followed with more, "Sit... Poppy, stay."
When I come into the room, he has the front door open and is standing in front of it, ready to intercept her if she magically finds her footing and takes off.
"Ok, Poppy. Good girl. Now just stay..." he drags out, holding a hand up as he backs up slowly to step onto the porch. "Ok. Now, any urges to follow me?" he asks her as she sits staring at him with a tilted head. "Atta girl. Now-" just as he starts to congratulate her, she jumps in excitement and starts running to him, and without fail, trips over her ears three steps from freedom.
"Ooo," I cringe as she tumbles into a somersault, and Dean chuckles, shaking his head, scooping her 25lb self up, and flopping her ears away from her eyes.
"We'll work on that a little more, but at least you have the sit part down."
"She came with the sit part already down," I chuckle, feeding her one of the kibbles I brought.
"Yeah, well, she does it faster with me, so," Dean argues, petting her soft head and kissing it before putting her back on the ground. "Eventually, we'll get to playing dead and retrieving beers from the fridge. Saw that one on Instagram. Benny sent it to me," He adds proudly.
"Yeah, sure." I shake my head and take a seat on the couch, the TV paused on a show we started this weekend.
It's been almost three weeks living with Poppy. After the initial week with her, I knew Dean was sold and wouldn't hand her back. And honestly, I couldn't either. She's tied to Dean throughout the day, even goes to work with him and follows him around the station, but at night... She's my cuddle bug.
When we got her from Julia, crate-trained, Dean suggested keeping her in it at night, but she cried each time. It only took two nights before Dean couldn't stand hearing her whimpering and brought her into bed. When I say he was devastated that she chose to curl up into me instead of him, I couldn't emphasize the word enough.
He pouted, back turned to us, mumbling things about "his girls preferring each other over him," and I had to laugh before pulling him into the shared snuggle.
The only person to beat us out so far was Jessie. Every day after school, she'd go to the station or come to our house, waiting for her dad to pick her up. Poppy and she were two peas in a pod. It's cute to see the men of the station thinking they were the people running it when those two were in the vicinity.
"I talked to Julia yesterday at carpool. I forgot to tell you," I share as Dean sits next to me, patting the cushion between us where her favorite toy rabbit Jessie so kindly donated to her was. "She said the baby is doing really well and they're getting along a lot better without having a third baby to watch." I scratch the spot between the little bassethound's ears, getting a playful grumble as she chews on her toy.
"I don't doubt it," Dean sighs, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, brushing my shoulder, and the other reaching for the beer on the end table. "Having her around is enough for me right now. Couldn't imagine adding a human to the mix."
"Yeah? I thought you were ready for a family, Mr. I-want-to-be-a-dad-already."
"I do. Just saying it'd make more sense to have a trained pup rather than a baby that's still needing all the attention this sweet girl needs," he fake pouts as he ruffles her loose skin up and down her back. "And she deserves all the attention," he coos.
"You're never going to survive as a girl-dad," I say, watching him melt into a puddle with her as if he hadn't been with her all day already.
"I survived Jessie," he argues with a faux-offended huff on his lips.
"You've survived Jessie up to this point. You haven't gotten to her first crush or boyfriend-"
"Don't even speak those words into existence. She's in 4th grade. She's got plenty of time before that shit starts," he waves me off, turning to the TV to busy himself with a distraction.
"Oh, so she hasn't told you about her school crush Johnath-"
"I swear, Y/N. If you go saying a little 4th grader's name, I'll have no choice but to look him up in the system and-"
"He's in 5th grade," I grin, knowing each word out of my mouth is riling him up. 80% of my job as a girlfriend is ragebaiting this poor man. Harmlessly, of course...
Dean takes a deep breath in through his nose and closes his eyes before exhaling.
"Carter," is all he says, and I'm grinning ear to ear, knowing I did my job.
"Winchester," I snark in the same deep tone he uses.
Slowly, he opens his eyes and turns his head to me in an intentionally terrifying way. Ok... Maybe I'm playing with fire. But sue me. I like it.
"Don't," I say, my legs folding up towards my chest as I give him a warning look.
"Don't what?" he says, a predatory look on his face, turning his body to face mine.
"Don't look at me like that. I don't like what follows..." I point to the evil smirk growing on his lip as he stares at me, enjoying my growing realization.
"Consequences, Carter. You don't like the consequences." He clicks his tongue in a tsking manner and shakes his head as he slowly inches closer to me. "Yet you still make the decisions that lead to them."
"Dean, I swear- Don't even think about-"
"Ah ah ah," he puts a finger up, scooting another half a foot closer. "You know the importance of consequences to actions. You teach them every day as part of your job. Yet for some reason..." Another half a foot and he's on the center cushion, moving Poppy to the 'safe' side of the couch in the mix. "You never learn the lesson."
"I'm warning you. I won't bake that Texas Sheet cake you were asking me to make this weekend." I'm practically shoved between the cushion and the space that goes down into the arm of the couch with my feeble attempt to keep a distance. However, the mention of withholding baked goods has his brows furrow, and he pauses for a second.
He considers his odds. Considers the pros and cons to follow, and the latter doesn't seem to deter him.
"I'm not worried about it," he shrugs, and before I can try to retort something to delay the inevitable, he pounces like a panther.
One second, I'm crunching in a defensive ball to keep from being attacked, and the next, I'm spread out, exposed in all the places he knows to tickle me.
"Not so smug now, huh?" he grins as he pokes, tickles, and runs his hands over all the sensitive spots that have me giggling and wiggling in his grasp. "I'll get that cake and an apology for bringing up Jessie's future dating life!"
"You-" *laugh* "Only get-" *laugh* "One of-" *laugh* "Those!" I shout just as I push his hands away enough to catch a short breath before he's moving to another spot.
"No deal," Dean shakes his head and goes in harder. "Submit, or I'll sic Poppy on you to lick your face too!" he threatens as he pokes my side with his finger, and I jump.
"Dean!"
"Y/N!" he mocks me this time.
I debate holding on and not letting him win, but alas, as usual, I'm not strong enough when it comes to being tickled to death.
"Fine! Truce! Mercy!" I shout, grabbing his hands just before he stops.
We're both panting slightly, and while he hangs over me smiling, I look up, knowing my hair is a ruffled mess under me, and press my hand on his chest as a precaution to push him back if needed.
"Mercy, huh?" Dean grins, pushing some wayward hair from my face. "You gave up quicker than usual."
"Yeah, well. Somedays, my threshold for being attacked is lower than others." I huff a breath and push his chest lightly. "You gonna get up or..."
"Nah, I like the view." He grins as he pushes some hair behind my ear. "I'd like it better on our bed, though. Without clothes."
"That right, huh?" I chuckle at how fast this man seems to get turned on. "You ovulating?" I tease.
"For you, always." He smiles brightly before jumping up from the couch and offering a hand for me to grab. "Come on. I'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll be baking me more than a Texas sheet cake."
I raise a brow as I take his hand and he pulls me up, casually throwing me over his shoulder with a quick bend of his knees.
I don't even squeal about it much anymore because it's so common. Instead, I prop my elbow on his shoulder and place my chin in my hand as he carts me to the bedroom.
"Was that an induendo for the bun in the oven phrase?" I ask.
"Maybe. Or maybe I just want you to bake me a pie, too. Can never have enough sweets." His reply is followed by a strong swat to the ass that has me jumping some. "All the sweets."
______________________
Three months later. Early Spring.
Sam won a raffle for the local team's baseball game at one of Jessie's PTA fundraisers, and happened to come down with the flu right before. So, currently, Jessie, Dean, and I were walking through the concessions trying to find our section for our seats.
"Want anything else besides cotton candy and popcorn, J-bird?" Dean asks, hand patting his niece's head as we pass a few more stands.
"Nah, I'm good for now," she says, stuffing her mouth with the sugary fluff that disintegrates in seconds. "Maybe some dip-and-dots later, though."
"Great minds think alike," Dean grins, hip-bumping her as he takes a swig from the beer he's drinking and then sticks his tongue out, attaching the kernels at the top of the overfilled bucket to his tongue before giving me a wink.
"Dean, don't salivate all over the popcorn. That's for everyone," I groan and roll my eyes as Jessie seconds me.
"Yeah, Uncle Dean, gross."
"I'll eat the top layer happily then, to save you princesses," he says, sticking his tongue out at us and giving Jessie a look that she giggles at.
I sneak a piece of cotton candy from Jessie as she laughs, and then pull a box of peanut M&M's from my purse as we find our section and move to sit.
The game goes well, and it's wholesome watching Dean explain the sport to the eager little girl between us. We were in the 7th inning and down 3 runs, so we decided to head out early to avoid the crowd.
"I'm going to run to the bathroom. Jess, you need to go?" I ask as we stop outside the pitstop.
"Yeah, that icee is getting to me," she says, shoving the half-empty popcorn bucket into Dean's hands.
She runs in, and I follow behind her. When I go in, I notice my stomach starting to feel a little funny. Must be the chili hot dog and the loads of sugar that followed. My stomach isn't as much of a steel trap like Dean's, but I'm sure I'll manage until we get home.
When I come back out, Dean's looking down at his phone with furrowed brows, and Jessie is nowhere to be seen.
"Did she not beat me out?" I ask, looking around.
"She did. She's getting a popcorn refill," he nods his head towards the concession stand, giving her a quick check-in before looking back at his phone.
"What are you looking at?" I question, coming to his side and covering the wince at the sharp pain in my side that flutters by.
"Sammy's location," he says as he zooms in on the screen. "He's not at home."
"He isn't?" I ask, looking over his shoulder.
On the screen, the location looks like downtown. The area has a strip of restaurants and a few boutiques, along with our local art museum.
"The Art museum?" Dean mumbles under his breath as the blue dot hovers over the location. "What the hell is he doing there if he's got the flu?"
"Maybe it's glitching," I offer.
"Five miles from his house?" Dean finally looks up with a furrowed brow, not convinced of my idea. "Yeah, no. I don't care for cellphones and all their trackers and listening devices most days, but this can't be wrong."
"I mean, it can, but-" I scrunch my face as another sharp pain hits me. "Jesus..."
"Hey, you ok?" Dean says, immediately concerned with me, rather than his phone.
"I'm good," I wave off, breathing out the pain. "Just a gut cramp, I think. You know greasy ballpark food. It picks and chooses its victims."
Dean hums, nodding, still looking at me like he's not fully convinced, but when Jessie comes back, he seems to move on.
"Ok! I'm ready to go!" she grins, a bucket of freshly popped and buttered popcorn overflowing once again.
"Your stomach is as vast as your uncle's," I chuckle, ruffling her hair some.
On our walk back to the car, I notice the side stitches more and try to hide the grimaces that take over my face, but as Dean gets Jessie settled in the car, I lean on the passenger side of the Impala and breathe through some of it.
"Y/N," Dean's voice is concerned and stern as it comes around the car to me. "What's going on?" I feel his hands on my waist before I even register he's by my side.
"Nothing, nothing..." I say through a breath. "Seriously, just have some side stitches. That greasy food isn't settling well with me, I guess."
"You're sure? You look a little pale, sweetheart."
I shake my head, eyes still closed, as I lean forward on the car. "Truly, I'm fine." But the truth is, I'm growing increasingly lightheaded. "Just need to sit-" It's then, my legs go out from under me, and I feel weak and dizzy.
"Y/N!" Dean's voice sounds before my vision tunnels in and goes black.
______________
There's a beeping and the smell of sterile chemicals. I scrunch my nose at the sudden aroma and will my heavy eyes to open, only to be slightly blinded by the florescents above.
"Easy... Easy." I hear a familiar, comforting voice, and milliseconds later feel a warm hand on my arm. "You up, sweetheart?"
I blink a few times, my eyes blurry and body feeling... strange.
"You're in the ER." The voice says, reading my mind of anxious thoughts. "You're ok. You're safe, but we're waiting for the doctor to come back with some lab work."
My eyes finally open all the way, and I raise my hand to rub the grogginess from it, seeing the face that matches the voice. But there's a constraint on my arm, and I realize it's an IV.
"Careful, baby," he says, putting a hand on my arm and gently guiding it back to my side. "You're hooked up to a few machines. You passed out and were in and out of consciousness for a bit."
"What-What's wrong?" I grumble, my throat dry, which he seems to read and brings me a styrofoam cup with a straw that I take a long drink from.
"Don't know yet, but the doctors are running their tests and procedures to figure it out." I feel his thumb, brushing over my pulse on my wrist like he's trying to monitor it himself. "Scared the shit out of me." He huffs a relieved yet concerned breath out and leans forward, pressing his forehead to my hand. "Jesus, Y/N."
"I thought it was just a bad stomach cramp from shitty food," I grumble.
He sighs and pulls back, pressing a kiss to my hand before he does. "Let's hope it's something as simple as that and nothing worse."
"Wait, where's Jessie?" I ask, suddenly noticing her absence.
"Don't worry," he says, my hand brought up to his lips to press kisses there while he explains. "I called my mom to come grab her. They're in the waiting room right now, making sure you're good before they go. I called Sam too, and get this," he lets out a soft laugh. "He was on a date."
"Date?" I say groggily, but with a slight smirk growing on my lip.
He seems relieved at the normal reaction and smiles with a nod. "I know, right? A date."
"With who?" I ask, shifting in my spot.
"Didn't get that info. Your situation was a bit more important to me at the time." His answers show the worry that's still prevalent. "How do you feel? Woozy? Tired? Any pain?"
I shake my head lightly and can already feel myself waking up more. The grogginess of it all was slowly fading, but the discombobulation is still lingering.
"I just feel... weird."
Right on time, a nurse comes and knocks on the glass door, which isn't much of a barrier since it doesn't take up the whole wall, just like the pink curtain she pulls back.
"Hi there." She looks to be my age, maybe a few years older, putting gloves on and moving to the monitors on the side that Dean isn't. "Nice to see you awake and alert. How are we feeling, Ms. Carter?"
"I'm decent. Still a little confused as to what happened," I say, leaning back in the bed.
"Makes sense. We found that your iron levels were pretty low, and we think your blood pressure dropped, which doesn't help the light-headedness that led to you passing out. Can I ask you a few questions on your basic medical background?"
"Sure," I nod, and Dean scoots his chair up just before another nurse peeks her head in through the curtain.
"Sorry to interrupt. Mr. Winchester, your brother is here and wanted to see you. Do you mind if I steal you away for a quick second?"
Dean immediately turns back to me. The silent question of whether I'll be ok or not crosses his features, and I nod. "I'm fine. You go update them. And tell Jessie I'm fine." I add the last part, knowing the poor girl can't seem to stay away from traumatic visits to the hospital. I don't even want to know what fear I created after slumping against the Impala.
"You're sure?"
"I'm fine. Go make sure they are," I nod, squeezing his hand in mine.
"Ok, I'll be right back," he nods, before leaving with the nurse, but not without giving me one more glance before he's gone.
"Right. So, when was your last menstrual cycle, Ms. Carter?" the nurse asks.
"Um..." I say, closing my eyes as I try to think. "It should be coming up this weekend, so I'd say... About three weeks ago. A little over that."
She hums, taking note, and then sets the clipboard on her hip as she writes on it. "How heavy was your last menstruation?"
"Um... Pretty light actually. More so, spotting and bloody discharge than anything," I answer while fidgeting with the blanket.
"And how many days did it last?"
"Only about three. It was shorter. I usually only have about 4-5 day periods on a good week."
She scribbles my words into her chart and then looks up with a soft smile.
"Ms. Carter, is there any chance you could be pregnant?" she asks, not as casually as most doctors do, and it makes me feel... concerned.
"I mean, I'm sexually active, yes. But I'm on the pill."
"Consistent with it?" she says, noting that.
"Um, yeah," I nod, but even though I know I am, I'm all of a sudden unsure. "Is there something-"
"I'd suggest stopping the birthcontrol, and since it's early on, I wouldn't worry about any problems in the time you have, but your bloodwork came back positive," she says and looks at me like she's expecting me to know what she's saying, yet I'm in shock and can't verbalize my question, so instead... She answers it. "You're pregnant, Ms. Carter."
Summary: Mission one-on-one with Bucky? It's been done before. So why is this one different? Why is he acting weird and not letting me storm off in a rage at his cold shoulder? Also, was the one bed necessary?
Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)
Word Count: 7000+ (It's a long one...)
A/N: I've been spending a lot of my time on Character ChatGPT AI, and a secret agent conversation made me say, " Yeah, I need to put this into a Bucky fanfic." So here we are🥰 Did it turn a lot more emotional than I planned? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Enjoy, my loves!!
_____
"Jesus! The goal is to survive the mission! And from the likes of it, bullets aren't even going to be the thing that finishes the job!" I shout over the whipping wind as Bucky maneuvers through cars in the foreign country while outrunning the guards we just escaped from on a motorcycle he stole in front of a shop.
"Shut it!" he shouts back, taking another sharp turn that has me clutching on as if one wrong blow of the wind will have me ending this chase with a case of road rash on my entire body. "I'm losing them."
"And likely me with them," I grumble, and he shoots me a quick look in the rearview mirror, showing that he heard my remark and didn't care for it.
I look behind us and see one of the jackasses we were running from has joined us in motorcycle theft, and I curse under my breath as I come up with a plan.
"Goon, five o'clock!" I announce as I dig into my boot for a small handgun I keep hidden.
Bucky looks around and clocks him. His teeth grit together as he kicks the speed up, weaves through a few cars, and turns down a new street, but the man following seems to be just as skilled in bike chases.
"Still on you!" I shout and let out an annoyed groan, realizing that at some point in our mission, I'd lost my backup weapon.
"I see that!" Bucky groans, and as we pass a fruit stand on the street, he knocks it over with his metal hand, causing a traffic stop and the motorcyclist to have to drive over apples and pears, making him lose his balance some.
However, it wasn't effective enough. "I got it," I sigh as Bucky takes another sharp turn, and I clutch onto him. "Do me a favor and try and stay straight for longer than 3 seconds!" I complain, and he complies, although begrudgingly.
I point my fist towards the bike, and as the man makes mean eyes at me, I wiggle my fingers at him with a grin before shooting a taser shock out of the widow bite Nat gifted me.
They shoot across and cause his entire bike to seize at the overload of electricity. He flies off the bike as it stutters and gives Bucky and me a clean escape down an alley.
A few alleys later and a quiet spot away from the chaos that had just ensued, Bucky and I hop off the bike and hide it behind a dumpster. I catch my breath as I throw my backpack over my shoulder and watch as he covers the bike more with the lid of the trash before grabbing his own pack.
"We need to lay low for the night," I note, adjusting my backpack and looking into the dead-end alley.
He sighed, taking in the area, and I could see the pistons firing in his head. "There's a hotel not far from here that'll work. Not shitty, but also not anything fancy." He immediately starts stalking away, not waiting for me to follow.
I huff in annoyance as he leaves me, and I fasten my backpack, buckling it across my chest before jogging to catch up with his long strides.
We don't say much as we get to the hotel- both of our minds coming down from the adrenaline and running through the last pieces of the mission.
While in the lobby of the hotel, I get a call and move to take it, seeing it's Steve checking in, and I leave Bucky to handle the check-in process.
"Got it. We'll head to the airport in the morning," I nod and turn around to see Bucky confirming something with the clerk, and I turn back to the phone.
When he finishes checking in (fake IDs with real payment thanks to Stark's ways), he turns and waves his hand toward the elevator in a quick hand gesture.
"Yeah. We're fine," I note, feeling a stitch in my side but not wanting to check just how bad the damage is until I'm behind a closed door. "He's being a dick as per usual," I chuckle lightly as I start my walk to the elevators. "No, Steve. I don't need you to call him and reprimand him. You know-... Seriously, Steve. Leave it... I said it as a joke more than anything-" He cuts me off again, ready to always put Bucky in his place with the cold shoulder he seems to love to give to only me.
When I make it to the elevator, where Bucky is holding the door impatiently for me, I quickly say, "Losing you! Getting in an elevator so I can't-" There's a protest on the other end. "What was that? It's cutting out." I say in stuttered beats to play it off before hanging up. "Steve says hi," I say to Bucky as I lock my phone and shove it in my back pocket.
"Sure," he says back, and I'm not sure if it's unconvinced or unbothered... or both. Either way, his face is still stoic.
"You really need to lighten up," I sigh in a deep breath, annoyed that he never relents his tough guy act around me.
"Don't feel like."
"Do you ever?"
The elevator is silent. The only sound is the mechanics of the metal box moving up. It eventually dings, and as I go to step forward, I grimace slightly so as I step wrong, causing pain to go up my side, but I quickly brush it off.
"What was that?" Bucky says behind me as he steps off the elevator last.
"What was what?" I ask, looking carefully at the room numbers and acting ignorant.
"That look. You flinched."
"Yeah, no," I shake my head. "Your eyesight must be getting worse with age."
"My eyesight is fine," he grumbles, pulling my arm back as I pass the room, realizing he never told me the number. "We're here," he turns to the door and presses the key card to it. The color changes from red to green, giving us access.
"I call the shower first," I shout, shoving him out of the way and unbuckling my backpack as I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it.
All I hear is an exasperated sigh on the other side and a shuffle of footsteps as he shuts the door, locks up, and moves into the room.
I let out a sigh of exhaustion and relief to be done for the day and move to warm up the water. If there is one thing I've learned about going on missions with Bucky, it's that the man's superhearing is just an excuse for him to be nosy. He listens to almost EVERYTHING.
So, with the water running and him hopefully distracted by the hotel views, I undress and focus on the shower. As soon as I took my shirt off, I was shown exactly what I worried was the problem.
Down my side is a semi-jagged cut going up my rib cage. Close to four inches long, if not less, but angry and red. I hiss and quickly bite my lip to muffle my pain. It's not bleeding anymore, which tells me it's not deep, so with the proper cleaning and care, it'll be fine in a few days. I use my time in the shower to clean it and wash the rest of the day away with it.
When I come out, I rummage through my bag for a first aid kit. I usually pack a travel-size one, given the job, but I can't find it. I change into a pair of clean shorts and a tank top I packed (light and takes up minimal space) before checking in the mirror to make sure my cut wasn't prominent through the light-colored tank. When I feel comfortable enough that Bucky won't ask questions, I straighten and fight the soreness that's taking over my body now that I'm not going 100mph.
I walk out, and when I see that Bucky is lying back, arms over his eyes on a king-size bed, I immediately take in the fact that it's the only bed in the room. The sound of cheers from baseball on the TV is quickly tuned out.
"Um," I start, hands out as I assess the space. "What's this?" I ask.
"A bed," Bucky answers simply and sits up tiredly as he looks at me, leaning back on his forearms. "You ran straight into the bathroom before I could tell you, or you saw for yourself."
I cross my arms and flinch when I graze my cut but quickly roll my shoulders as if the full-body soreness was the only issue.
"Well, did they not give us another option or maybe a second room we could have-"
"What was that?" he cuts me off.
"Hm, what was what? What do you mean-?" I look right at him and furrow my eyebrows, hands on my hips.
"You made that face again."
I roll my eyes. "I'm sore," I shrug, scoffing and even I know I'm a horrible actress right now, so I don't make eye contact.
"That's not a sore grimace. That's something else," he sits up straight now and tilts his head down, assessing me in almost a predatory way.
"Stop that." My arms move from my hips to my chest and around me, and my discomfort only makes a smirk appear. "Stop. It's weird."
"No, what's weird is why you're being so weird," he remarks with a sassy face.
I blink at him a few times, feeling much less intimidated thanks to his comeback. "Good one," I said, turning and going to his backpack now.
"Hey, what are you doing?" He stands quickly from the bed and looks at me over my shoulder as I unzip his bag.
"I think I put something of mine in here. I can't find it in my bag," I note, dunking my hand into his things. He steps up, pulling my shoulders to get away.
"Stop going through my stuff. You're worse than Sam," he notes, tugging me away, although gentler than how he is typically.
"I just need-" I feel the small plastic box I'm looking for and tug it out, quickly holding it behind my back. "Nevermind. I found it."
"What are you talking about-"
"Nothing! Just give me one minute. I need to brush my teeth," I jab a thumb behind my shoulder as I walk backward to the bathroom, his steps matching mine. "I'll be out in five minutes," I note quickly as I turn on my heel and run back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it again.
Instead of seeing the door handle budge like I expected, he bangs a fist on the wooden barrier.
"Y/N, open the damn door! What the hell did you take out of my bag?"
"My toothbrush!" I lie. Why didn't I say toothpaste? That would make so much more sense... "I must have gotten our bags mixed up when I packed them." I cringe at myself.
"How could you do that? Yours is brown, and mine's black," he notes.
"A very dark brown," I argue, lifting my tank top and sitting on the bathroom counter to get a better look in the mirror of my cut. "Just give me a second-"
"You're being weirder than normal," he groans in frustration on the other side.
"Yeah, well, get used to it," I hiss as I put the sanitizer spray on it and bite my knuckle to suppress the pained groan I want to let out. "Jesus," I mumble under my breath, but the next thing I know, the door is swinging open, and Bucky's staring at its handle that's hanging on by a thread before back at me. "Hey!" I look at the door and back at him. "They're going to charge us for that."
His eyes immediately go from annoyed and over it to concerned and confused.
"What the hell is that?" He points at my stomach, where I'm frozen on top of the counter, shirt lifted, showing my entire torso and cut on full display.
"A paper cut." Dear God. What the hell happened to my logical excuses?
His concerned face drops some, and he deadpans from my injury to my eyes before marching to me and turning me at my shoulders to face him and get a better view.
"When did this happen?"
"Wild guess, but likely when the guards we fought to get out pulled a knife on me and played dirty," I sigh, realizing I wasn't talking myself out of this one anytime soon. "But that could be a stretch," I add.
He again looks up at me from my injury with an incredulous and agitated look.
"Let me see," he sighs, bending down to get a better view and looking at the injury from a head-on angle.
"It's just a scratch, Barnes. I'll be good as new after a little disinfectant and ointment. Nothing a bandaid can't fix," I brush off, turning on the counter to grab the kit.
He stops me in my turn by placing a hand on my knee and turning me back around to where my legs hang off the counter. I'm sitting with him in between my legs.
"They used a serrated knife," he notes, taking the first aid kit out of my hand and opening it, instantly getting to work as if I wasn't doing it myself two seconds ago.
"Um, excuse me, but I can-"
"I know the things you can do, Y/N. You don't have to tell me," he says sternly, grabbing gauze and another bottle of something I didn't know the contents of and tipping it onto the gauze before bending down again. This time, his eyes found mine as he looked up at me from his now crouched position. "This is going to sting. That sanitizer you were using before is shit. This one actually does the job," he notes, and I'm a little stunned by the turn of events. "Ready?"
Never in my life did I think Bucky Barnes would be this gentle and considerate with me, but I'm not going to stop a good thing from happening.
"I don't think it can hurt more than the knife itself," I smirk and nod when he gives me a look. "Yeah, yeah. Do your thing, Doc." I gesture to him, looking up at the ceiling as I prepare for the sting.
I don't feel it instantly, and just as I'm about to ask what was taking him so long, the cool liquid hits my cut, and I hiss, grabbing his wrist in a tight hold out of instinct to hold him back. "Jesus H. Christ," I grit through my teeth. "What the hell kind of acid did you just put in-?" I let out a slow breath through my lips and quietly say, "I'd pick the knife again. I'd pick the knife again. The knife for sure."
"It's Banner-strength disinfectant," he says with a stupid little prideful smirk, yet is dabbing the cut ever so gently as I hold his wrist. His touch is soft, but the sting is anything but. "You grabbed my first aid kit. I had him make it since you tend to get hurt easily, and we're not in the cleanest country." He's fully concentrated on my cut.
"What?" I asked, surprised, grabbing the kit's container and seeing that it indeed was not mine. I brush over the fact he had Bruce specifically make it and pack it for me as I look over at my bag, still slumped against the wall from my rush to take a shower, and realize I must have forgotten mine.
"Relax. Tensing doesn't help," he adds, bringing his free hand to my thigh and giving a light squeeze to distract me. I hiss again as he pads over an agitated area.
All sense of humor drops slowly from his face, and he gives me a look. "Y/N, why didn't you tell me about this as soon as you knew? This was not far from being infected in a way that could have been a lot worse than just an irritating sting."
"When was I supposed to tell you?" I sass, throwing my head back on the mirror as I focus on anything but the sharp stings. "As soon as we got off the bike, we headed here. You didn't say a word to me, and I was in my own head. Honestly, I didn't even realize it was there until we were checking in and I was on the phone with Steve. Adrenaline must have kept me from realizing it."
He mumbles something under his breath, and I hear the word, reckless in the middle of it.
"Watch yourself," I warn, kicking my leg a touch, skimming his rib cage. "There can easily be two injured people in this room."
"No need for both of us to get stupid injuries," he grumbles.
I scoff and shove his hand away from me, jumping off the counter as he stands and glares at me.
"Sorry for getting stabbed," I sneer up at him, stepping into his space. "I'll make sure to ask the assholes shooting and swinging at me next time to keep the knives at home. Oh! Or better yet," I exaggerate. "I'll tell them my partner said I'm not allowed to get into fights with men triple my size, so if they can just play gentle so I don't end up with any battle scars, that would be greatly appreciated." I smile wide and fake before dropping it and brushing by him to the bedroom.
I catch the tail end of his eyes rolling before I hear him stomping behind me.
"I need to finish patching you up. If it's not done properly, you can get sick." He comes up behind me, but I stop abruptly, and he runs into my back before holding my shoulders to steady himself. I turn to him, not breaking the space.
"I know how injuries work, Barnes. This isn't my first time in the field, although I'm sure you believe otherwise," I scoff in anger. "Just," I put my hands up, stepping away in frustration and groaning. "I'm going to get some air," I try and push past him to leave, but his hand wraps around my arm and holds me shoulder to shoulder by his side before I can get my feet past him.
"No. You're going to let me finish patching you up. Now..." he stares at me with his Sergeant's eyes. "Sit. Down." I struggle to fight my stubborn retort, but he sees it brewing and raises an eyebrow in challenge.
I groan in protest loudly and pull my arm out of my grip before moving to the edge of the bed and sulkingly wait for him to finish his job- that I didn't ask him to even start, by the way!
"Good girl," he mutters with a smartass smirk, and I take a breath in to yell something at him, but he goes back to the bathroom to grab the kit we left behind.
"Cyborg headed-ass, caveman, son of a bit-" I mumble, and he comes back in, shooting me a look that says, 'really?'. "Oh, sorry, did you hear that?" I say with fake regret.
He rolls his eyes and crouches again by my knees to get a better angle at the cut, and I lean back, my hands flat against the comforter as he works quietly, and I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on my stomach when he's been nothing but cold to me.
As he's patting the tape over the piece of gauze he fashioned over my cut, I look at him calculatingly. He notices my gaze on him and awkwardly starts putting his things up, sneaking glances at my stare here and there.
"What?" he finally asks. "Stop staring at me."
Instead of an answer, I just stare harder and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side as I analyze him deeper.
"Cut it out," he growls, standing and moving to put the kit on the counter. "You're creeping me out."
I let out a single laugh and shake my head before lowering my tank top and looking out the window. "You're so fucking confusing," I state, standing as I straighten my clothes.
"I'm confusing?" he asked rhetorically. "You're fucking confusing."
"Come up with your own lines," I throw an exasperated hand out, waving him off. "I'm getting air."
I don't know what provokes him, but he steps in front of me, his towering figure shadowing over me.
"No," he says, looking at me sternly.
"There wasn't a question mark at the end of that sentence, asshole," I sidestep him and move to the door. I manage to open it maybe a foot before it's slammed in my face, and I feel Bucky's chest pressed to my back. I look up, and his hand is splayed flat on the door.
"I said no," he says lowly. His voice is just over my shoulder, and I hold back the shiver that threatens to take over my body.
"And I said, fuck off," I say just as lowly, looking up at him, tilting my head back. "Move."
"We need to talk."
"And I need to put a good three blocks of this city between us so I don't add another person to the stabbed today club. I'd rather stay on Steve's good side." I jut my arm back to elbow him in the ribs, but he dodges it with a huff of an annoyed laugh.
"Real mature," he sasses, and I can see a touch of playfulness in his features, and that makes me even more furious.
"You're one to fucking talk!" I turn and shove him in the chest, and he relents, putting his hands up in the air as I shove repeatedly in vexation. Each shove and each curse I send his way has him taking one slight step back with a grin. "Stop smiling!" I grunt as I push him harder, and he laughs. He fucking laughs!
My eye twitches, and my hits become more forceful. Nothing close to what I'm capable of, but I'm not looking for a full-on brawl. I just want to smack him enough to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.
"Y/N," he says calmly in between hits to his rock-solid chest. A chest, I'm sure, will give me bruises if I keep this up.
"No! You don't get to talk!" I point at him after shoving him one more time and successfully making him falter a few steps back at the power behind it. "I'm walking out of this room to get some air, and you're going to stay right fucking there. Right there!" I point to the floor under his feet. "And not keep me from leaving this God damn suffocating room. Got it?"
I know my eyes are wild, and I know the emotions I'm feeling are written clear as day on my face because his sly smirk falters, and he takes a deep breath in, hands still up in surrender.
"I'm sorry," he mutters out as his gaze falls to his feet.
"What?" I ask, shocked and slightly out of breath from exerting myself.
"I'm sorry," he says a touch more clearly as he clears his throat and looks up, hands coming down and eyes avoiding mine.
I blink a few times and throw my hands up. "I can't do this." I let out a breath and turned back to the door.
"Y/N, please don't," he says, and I stop. I surprise myself, but I stop, turning back to him slowly.
"Why?" There's a long pause that follows my question, and I wonder whether Bucky even knows why he's asking this. "Genuinely Bucky... Why are you so insistent on me staying in this room right now?"
He runs a nervous hand over his beard and shifts his weight to one foot as he throws one hand up in a single wave.
"I don't need you getting hurt again," he states, still avoiding eye contact.
My eyebrows narrow in confusion, and I cross my arms, popping my hip to the side as I stare at him. "We're in a hotel. Not a battlefield."
"It's better we stay in here than wander around. The guys who were after us are likely still hunting us, and it's best we don't show our faces in public spaces," he notes.
Ok, that's a logical reason, but something tells me this is a more emotional reason on his end. He's not sharing everything, though...
"Ok..." I drag out and look at the balcony. "Then I'll go out there."
I walk promptly to the balcony, surprisingly not being stopped by him as I brush past him and jiggle the door handle, finding it stuck. "Fucking hell," I grumble under my breath as I pull the handle and push it up and down to try and get it to work.
A hand comes behind me and takes the door handle for me. I stare at it, not turning to acknowledge how Bucky expertly pushes it just right for it to open.
"I had the same issue," he says, pulling his hand back and nodding his head to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower." He steps back, quiet and sinking back into his usual stand-offish behavior, but now with more nerves and awkwardness.
I give a grunt in acknowledgment and shut the balcony door behind me before sitting in a shitty lawn chair. I don't turn to see if he's still standing there watching me, but instead, I focus on the city view in front of me. It's not a well-off country, so the views aren't more than rundown buildings and vendors in the street shouting for people to buy their things over their neighbors, but it's fresh air away from the man that makes my blood boil.
Fifteen minutes later, I feel a little calmer. Although still annoyed, I'm more confused than anything. Why the hell was he acting so strange, and why do I feel like some kind of serious conversation was going to-
"Y/N?" I hear the door open with a creak and turn to see Bucky with wet hair, a change of clothes, and soft eyes focusing on the door that's obviously broken. "God, this place has gone down in quality," he notes, leaving the door cracked as he comes onto the balcony with me.
"Been here before?" I ask, turning back to the view ahead.
"Once like 8 years ago," he nods and moves to stand by the railing, his arms crossed over the edge of it, and his gaze now focused on the same place mine is. "Must have gotten new management."
It's silent for almost five minutes after that. No words, no looks, no sounds. Just silence outside of the city noise. I debate, standing and going back into the room if he's going to continue to go radio silent and not explain his strange behavior earlier, but just before I stand, he speaks up.
"I don't know why," he says, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. He continues to stare off into the city. I wait a few moments, and he continues. "I don't know why you stress me out more than the others."
Great. So that's how this is going to go.
I stand and silently move to go back into the room, but his hand clasps around my wrist.
"Please, just let me find the words," he asks, and I can hear the plea in his voice.
I look back and up at him and his eyes are in the puppy dog form I've seen only a select few times. Ones that have never been directed at me but have held no truer emotion than requisition.
"Ok..." I drag out, moving back to the lawn chair and sitting quietly as he drops my wrist almost hesitantly and leans against the railing, fidgeting with his hands. I've never seen him like this, so I give him the space.
He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes before just unloading everything.
"I don't like seeing you get hurt," he starts. "I mean, I don't like seeing any of my friends get hurt. It's no decent person's interest to watch friends and family get harmed, but it's like a nagging in my head. No," he shakes his head, trying to find the right words. "It's like having pins and needles surrounding your lungs, and every time you try and take a breath to come down from the terror- the pain of seeing them hurt- the needles poke and stab. Making it nearly impossible to take a deep breath and ground yourself. And that's only a part of the pain that comes with it."
I stare up at him. My eyes are likely wide as I take in what he's saying. He glances at me once before looking back at his hands.
"I know I'm an asshole to you. I know that," he says, cringing as if the truth behind it hurts him. "I don't know why. At least, I say that to make myself not think about it longer than I can probably handle, but I've talked to my therapist about it, and she says it's a protective technique my brain finds more plausible than just dealing with the confusing feelings I have towards you."
My eyes shift back and forth as if trying to understand the words.
"Feelings towards me?" I repeat. "Like annoyance?"
"No," he sighs, and then he chuckles a soft laugh under his breath. "Well, yes. Sometimes you can be annoying, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it endearing most of the time."
My eyebrows raise at that. Where the hell is all this coming from?
I shake my head in disbelief and lean back in my chair. "Barnes, you're giving me a bit of whiplash, and I'm not sure-"
"I like you."
My mouth is still open from where my sentence was going, and I blink once. Then twice. Then, a third time, as I tried to understand if I just heard him right. Because if he meant it as a friend, I'm shocked. But if he meant it otherwise... I'm hallucinating.
His eyes find mine, and this time, he doesn't look away. He keeps eye contact, and I can feel him trying to read me.
"I-Is there more to that sentence?" I ask, my brain trying to make sense of the situation and short-circuiting ultimately.
"Yes, but from the looks of it, you're still trying to translate those three words."
"Good observation," I nod, pursing my lips and sinking into my chair.
"I've been known to make them," he smiles a tight-lipped smile. I'm actually grateful for his quip at this moment.
"Bucky, you have to understand that those words don't make sense with how you treat me-"
"I know, and I'm sorry," he pushes off the railing and steps forward just in front of my chair. "God, I'm so sorry. I don't even know why it's taken me this long to apologize for the way I've acted this long, but for some reason... When we were fighting today, I saw a man get the jump on you. I was seconds from leaving my own fight and coming straight to you to handle it for you, but you quickly turned the situation around. It wasn't the first time I'd seen you in that scenario, yet something about it..." He pauses, looking up at the sky, throwing a hand through his hair. "It freaked me out. It freaked me out far more than it has in the past."
He looks at me in a sincere way and moves to sit in the busted up, rusted, and metal patio chair that looks like it very well could have been here when he came 8 years ago. It creaks as he turns it in and angles his body toward mine. His elbows rest on his knees, and he looks down at his hands again. And as he talks, I realize he's breaking it down not just for me but for himself—these emotions and sudden changes.
"Maybe it's because I knew if I didn't get to you, you were on your own. We didn't have a backup. I couldn't call Steve or Nat, or Wanda to come in and help where I couldn't. And then the actualization that if I couldn't get to you, if no one was there to back you up, there was a chance I'd end up regretting everything all because I can't seem to come to terms with my feelings." His eyes find mine again. "And then that cut," his eyes drag from mine down my torso to where my knife wound lays under my tank top. "It was like a final piece to knock some sense into my head."
He looks at me, and I can't explain it, but I want to hold him when he looks at me like that.
"Seeing you hurt reminded me... You're human. You aren't invincible even if you can take on three men triple your size attacking you at once. It's a skill I'm glad and impressed that you have, but it doesn't guarantee someone won't get the jump on you again, and I'm not sure I can handle that."
I stay in silence for a moment, taking in the information and processing it all. I must have been quiet for a while because a soft "Y/N?" makes me look up from where I've been staring blankly at the balcony.
"You ok?" he asks gently, carefully.
I nod and run a hand up and down my arm from a slight breeze blowing with the sun setting in the distance.
"Trying to..." I started, but I didn't know what words were meant to follow. "I'm a little shocked," I say, eventually looking at him.
"I can't say I blame you. It's a 180 from our normal conversations," he takes a deep breath and smiles softly at him. "Do you need a minute?"
I shake my head. "No..." Then I scrunch my nose. "Well, maybe."
"That's ok," he nods, sitting back in his chair, and it weakly groans in protest. He takes in the fact my legs are up to my chest now, and I've wrapped my arms around myself. "We should go inside. It'll get cold soon." He stands and motions for me to head in first, then offers a hand to help me stand up.
I look at it before taking it, standing, and walking in with my arms still around my middle. As soon as we're in, I turn and catch us both off guard by being chest-to-chest with him after he shuts the balcony door. I don't move, though, and neither does he.
"Since honesty seems to be the theme of the night," I look up at him. "I've always admired you..." His face softens at that. "But I'd be lying to both of us if I said how you treated me didn't affect that original feeling." He nods in understanding and slightly cringes to himself.
"I wouldn't hold it against you."
"Why did you- Why did you not like me at first?"
He shrugs a touch, but there's no uncertainty behind it. "I saw you as young and naive. I saw you as someone who seemed to make almost anyone love you, and all you had to do was exist around them. I think a broken part of me was envious and confused by that trait, and I used it as a reason to be hateful to you instead of taking advantage of the kindness you freely give and allowing myself the gift of that. I didn't think I deserved that." He sighs, his hands going into the pockets of his sweats. "I convinced myself that your kindness was nativity when I've learned quite quickly that you're anything but naive."
I sigh, nodding my head as I turn and move to sit on the edge of the bed. "You wouldn't be the first person to misinterpret my kindness. It's why I tend to fall into becoming a stubborn ass when people don't appreciate that kindness. Hence why I haven't been the perfect person in this relationship myself," I motion between us. "I should have recognized where you could have been coming from and continued to kill you with pleasantries, but you didn't seem to respond well to it."
"It wasn't your job to recognize that or fix it. It was mine to stop being a stubborn ass myself and talk to you rather than make assumptions," he shifts on his feet. "I thought I was self-preserving when I was actually self-sabotaging. Something I'm still working on recognizing."
"It's a process," I sigh, knowing the steps well enough myself. I consider the conversation and take a deep breath, relaxing in my spot as I come to my conclusion. "Bucky?" He looks at me, hopeful and attentive. "I forgive you."
I watch as his body stiffens at the declaration before slowly relaxing.
"I don't expect you to just be fine with everything I've done the last-"
"Many years?" I chuckle, lighting the mood. "Yeah, but why would I want to waste any more time when I get it? I get your reasoning, and I can't say I blame you."
"But you should blame me," he moves to sit on the comforter next to me, our knees brushing.
I shrug, turning to face him better. "But I don't." He starts to talk, and I cover his mouth with my hand. His icy blue eyes looked down at the motion before back at me. "I swear to God, Barnes. You take two steps forward, and it's like you feel guilty for making progress and regress." He flinches slightly at my words, and I feel I struck a nerve. "Sorry, I shouldn't-" I take my hand back.
"No, you're right. It's something I'm still working on. I mean, small things are easy to accept and move on, but this," he gestures to me. "A part of me doesn't believe I deserve your forgiveness after the caseload of shit I've given you, but-"
"But it's my forgiveness to give, so I'll decide if I want to give it..." I look at him as if waiting for him to connect the dots. He smiles and nods as he looks down at his hands. "You catching on?"
"I'm catching on," he looks up at him again. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
We look at each other for a little while, and the atmosphere is new. It's not tense. It's not awkward. It's not uncomfortable. It's like we've come to a point we've been actively avoiding for years, and it turned out to be a really nice point.
"So..." he starts, and I decide to break the seriousness of it all.
"Why is there only one bed, Bucky?" I ask with a look meant to lighten up the mood, turning and patting the comforter we're sitting on.
He looks at it with me and smiles with a laugh. "It wasn't intentional, if that's what you're asking."
"Feels a touch intentional. Not letting me leave the room or demanding I stay close kinda plays into the fact you'd be forced into sharing a bed with me. Another way to secure my proximity," I tease.
"Or..." he drags out, and his hand comes up, pushing a wayward hair behind my ear and casually taking his hand back. "The receptionist told me they didn't have any two-bedroom rooms available right now because there is a festival in town this weekend, and they're booked up."
"Seems legit, but not sure if I believe you," I grin a touch bashful and look around at the room as if I'm surveying it and not slightly melting at his touch.
"Believe me or not," he shrugs, standing and stretching. "Either way, we're sharing a bed tonight, sweetheart." He winks. He fucking winks at me and moves to the other side of the bed, getting his side ready for sleep.
This new side of him is not one I was ready for, but seeing it makes me think about what I haven't gotten to experience sooner. So I say that.
"I knew you were a lady's man back in the day, but I never thought I'd see the flirt you were rumored to be," I turn in my spot on the bed and look at him from the end of the bed.
"I don't flirt with everyone," he says, throwing the blanket back and adjusting the pillows.
"Well, yeah, obviously, but-"
"Just people I'm attracted to," he says, cutting me off with a telling grin. "And to women, I'd like to have flirt back."
My mouth drops, and I let out a laugh. A genuine laugh. "Was that a move? Did you just make a move on me?" I smile like a teenager at him, partially in disbelief and partially in interest.
"Did it work?" he chuckles, sitting on the edge and scooting into the bed but not fully getting in it.
I shake my head with a smile and laugh again. "Honestly, I have to say yes."
His smile widens at my confession, and he leans back on the headboard, two pillows propped behind him.
"So you're saying I have a chance if I keep it up?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, cowboy. It's not going to take just a flashy wink and a flirty comment to get my attention fully. I like to be sought after."
"Good to know."
"Is it?" I ask incredulously with a smirk as I move to my side of the bed and throw the covers back enough to sneak under them.
"Can't give away all my plans," he shakes his head, and I turn off my bedside lamp.
"Wouldn't want you to. I like being surprised," I lay down and nuzzled into my pillow before turning on my side and looking up at him. "Must say, your surprise tonight was a pretty good start."
"You think?"
"I think," I nod and debate on my next idea, but I decide what the hell? Who's it hurting? "Feel free to say no, but if we are sharing the same bed, I tend to be a cuddler unconsciously, so if we-"
"Yes," he says simply a large grin he doesn't seem to care to hide marks his handsome features. "Yes, please." He nods, moving under the blanket.
"That answer was a little too fast to believe that this hotel didn't have other beds."
"I don't know what you mean," he shimmies under the blanket, and I feel his leg brush mine.
"Listen, normally I wouldn't, but I learn I sleep best when I'm with another person, so-"
"You don't have to give me a reason, doll. I'm happy to lend the support." His arms are quickly wrapped around my middle and I'm turned to where my back is pressed against his front and I'm not going to lie... It's a perfect fit. "Night, Y/N."
"Night, Bucky." I smile putting my hands on his around my middle and laying back into him.
This was a good start to something possibly more...
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who’s fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too…
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 2800+
Chapter 33:
A little over two weeks had passed, and Jessie's school's Wax Museum night had finally arrived. I already know who she chose, but she and Dean insisted on surprising everyone with their display, which they'd been working on nonstop for the last five nights.
So while they worked on that, I can't help but step into teacher mode and make my way around the halls, visiting old students and saying hi to parents while avoiding Jessie's specific zone.
"Ms. Carter! Ms. Carter!" I hear shouting behind me and turn to see a former student who's now in 5th grade running up to me, flapping his arms and smiling brightly.
"Walter!" I smile and chuckle as he catches up to me, out of breath like he's just run the entire length of the school to get to me. "How's it going, slick?" I give him a fist bump that he eagerly returns, and his cute little dimple, I remember well, under his eye creases when he smiles.
"Good," he says, still slightly out of breath. "Are you going to come by my statue?"
Straight to the point every time with this kid.
"Of course," I chuckle and nod my chin down the hall. "Where are you so I can keep an eye out while I make my rounds?"
"I'm in Ms. Anderson's hall. Three people down from the gym doors."
I take in his outfit and hum. "Can I take a guess as to who you are?"
"Sure, but I don't think you'll get it," he grins, crossing his arms confidently and proudly.
"You're saying the speech and your setup are the key to figuring that out?" I laugh, knowing already that he's an astronaut given the space suit.
"I picked a very niche person to go over," he nods once again, cockyily.
One thing about Walter is that he's always been very sure of himself. Something in parent-teacher conferences that his parents know to expect and are told tends to be a staple part of the conversations regarding him. Seems things haven't changed.
"Well, I'll do my best to use my context clues and figure it out, yeah?" I playfully nudge his shoulder, and he nods excitedly just as his mom, Julia, comes around and spots him, sighing and approaching.
"There you are. You're supposed to be helping your dad with your last bits of setup, Walt," she sighs and places both hands on his shoulders from behind.
"I saw Ms. Carter and had to say hi to her," he defends, looking up at her by tilting his head backwards.
She shakes her head and huffs a small laugh as she looks up at me. "Hi, Ms. Carter. How's it going?" She looks tired, but happy. I know they just had a baby, and I can only imagine how tiring it can be with Walter and a newborn.
"I'm doing well? How's it going on your end?" I smile in return. She's one of the few parents I follow on social media, only because I had her son twice since I moved grades for a year, and we became pretty close in planning class parties and her helping with the PTO.
"Tired," she breaths out. "Very, very tired." She pats Walter's shoulders and turns him around. "You go help your Father with the display for your project. He already passed the 5th grade and doesn't need the grade."
Walter sighs and pouts some before turning back to me. "I'll see you in a little bit, Ms.Carter. Don't forget, third person from the gym door! On the right!" He adds before running down the hall through the chaos of parents and students.
We watch him run back down the hall, and both shake our heads with a grin.
"He hasn't changed a bit."
"Oh, he has. He's gotten even more aunery, believe it or not." Julia laughs and takes a deep breath before looking back at me. "So, how are things going on your end. You rarely post on socials, so I feel like it's been ages since we've caught up."
"Well, you have more important things to worry about with your new kiddo and all." I can tell just how tired she is, with the slight bags under her eyes, but besides that, she looks the same.
"Ugh, don't even get me started. I'm glad we waited until Walter was a little older, but we made the mistake of getting him a puppy for his birthday-"
"Wait, you have a newborn and a puppy right now?" I say my eyes widening some as I cross my arms to listen.
"I know," she deadpans like it wasn't her idea. "I don't know if you remember, but the dog we've had since Walter was born, Junie, she's getting older and struggling some. Research showed that getting a puppy sometimes helps, and the older dog tends to teach the pup to mellow out faster. For some reason, I thought we'd have her trained and such by the time the baby came, but she came a month early and well... You can do the math."
"Wow. That's insane. I don't know how you manage it."
"I don't," she says with a look that says, I'm barely staying afloat. "However, José did take our new puppy, Poppy, to obedience school, but it's something you have to keep up at home. So it's not like she came home fully trained. We're still working out the imperfections."
"Yeah, I've heard the tales of that. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't stick," I nod. "How's the older dog been with her?"
"Fine. But really, a lack of interest. She tolerates her, but she's snipped at her a few times because she's gotten too close to the baby. Junie's a bit protective of her babies. Something I love about her."
I hum in agreement. Though after hearing all this, the talk Dean and I had a few weeks ago about kids and puppies, I'm not sure how people do it.
"But can I tell you something, Carter?" she asks, stepping forward and looking around like she's about to spill a top secret. I nod, stepping closer just a step. "I don't want the puppy. I feel horrible, but it's so much work, and I've become slightly resentful of it because she's constantly there while I'm trying to raise a human baby, too. José helps, obviously. But it's a lot on both of us. And as much as Walter loves her, we're struggling to get him to help with her. You know, feeding, taking her on walks, and picking up after her."
I pout my lip slightly at the frustrations she's sharing with me. "I'm sorry, you're having to deal with all that, Julia. That's a big load to manage all at once."
She breaths out a long breath through her lips. "Is it bad that I'm considering rehoming? It'll take a huge load off."
I shake my head. "It'd suck, and I'm sure there'd be some guilt, but people do it all the time. The way I look at it is, would Poppy be happier somewhere else that can give her the attention she needs? If so, I don't see it as a bad thing at all."
She nods, chewing on the corner of her lip as she considers what I'm saying.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she sighs and straightens up a little. "Sorry, we haven't seen each other since I was pregnant, and now I'm dumping all my shit on you-"
"Hey, I asked, didn't I?" I cut her off. "Besides, we're friends. I'm happy to lend an ear."
She laughs and nods. "Care to lend a home for my pup?" she teases and shakes her head at the joke, but then I think about it.
"Actually..." My eyes are looking up as if mapping it out.
She freezes and looks at me, surprised. "Wait, seriously?"
I look back at her, and a small smile forms as I shrug. "It's actually kinda funny. Dean and I were talking about possibly getting a pet. I'd have to check in with him, of course, but..."
"And Dean's the hot fireman that you've posted a total of two times in a year, right?" She grins, nudging my arm with a wink.
I laugh and nod. "That'd be the one."
"Well, hell. Good for you, Carter. Snagged a good one."
"Thanks." I shake my head. "As for the dog..." She nods for me to carry on. "What about a trial run? I'd be happy to take her for a week, give you guys some time to reset with the baby and all, and if it works out, we can consider extending her stay. Either way, you'd get a week without the puppy chaos."
I don't expect it, but her arms are around me in seconds, holding me close and squeezing me with a slight rocking side to side.
"Y/N Carter, you are the best human being alive, and I'm so appreciative there aren't words," she mumbles into my shoulder.
I smile and return the hug, holding on for as long as she needs me to. "I'm happy to do it, Juls."
We hug for a few more seconds before she pulls back and wipes a relieved tear that escaped, and she shakes her head.
"Sorry, still have some of those baby hormones coursing through me. I cried at a video the other day of a bakery throwing away their pasties at the end of the day because the waste of it got to me."
"I mean, I'd say a valid reason to cry," I chuckle and tuck my hair behind my ear. The intercom comes on, announcing the museum's opening. "I'll call you later, and we can sort the details out when you're able. Let me talk with Dean tonight and give you the details when I get them."
We say our goodbyes, and I start heading back towards the fourth-grade hall, where Jessie is set up. Dean's bow-legs are walking towards me, looking around, and when he spots me, he sighs with a smile.
"There you are. Jessie's all set up. Sam already made a grand gesture, so I hope your surprise face passes the test." His hand finds my lower back with ease as he starts to guide me back towards where our group is. "Where'd you go anyway?"
"I was saying hi to some old students. Plus, ran into an old parent I'm close with." We smile at a couple who excuse themselves past us in the crowded hallway and turn the corner. "I'll tell you more about it later, but I may have signed us up for something."
He gives me a curious look just as we get around the corner to Jessie's spot, and I see Mary, John, and Sam grinning at the star of the night.
"I'll be questioning you later," he winks before ushering me to the front, where I see Jessie all done up.
Dressed as Brenda Berkman, Jessie has her hair tied back in a slick bun, the smallest firefighter turnout coat they could find at the station, and one of Dean's helmets, slightly lopsided on her head. Behind her is a large poster board that she and her uncle spent hours perfecting, with flame decorations overflowing from top to bottom and a firetruck front as the backdrop. To enhance the costume, we used a pool noodle and attached blue felt to make it look like water was spewing out.
Sam does the honors of 'pressing her play button' and she takes a breath before starting the monologue she practiced for the last week.
"Hello. My name is Brenda Berkman, and I'm the first female firefighter to..." She pauses and takes a minute to remember her following line. "Oh! To win a lawsuit against the Fire Department of New York City to allow... Um... Allow 40 other women to become firefighters for the FDNY, otherwise known as the Fire Department of New York."
I can feel the pride and absolute joy within our little group as she finishes the first part of her monologue, and we all give her thumbs-up and supportive grins as she continues to perform it with growing confidence.
________________
"She killed it!" Dean cheers once we're buckled into the car and heading to get dinner with the rest of the family. "By the 3rd time she said that script, she didn't need an ounce of help. Absolutely knocked that shit out of the park."
I laugh as he seems fully ramped up as we leave the parking lot. "She did great. I'm sure your parents will make sure she gets whatever dessert on the menu she wants."
"If not them, you know I will." He hums as he places a hand on my thigh and then follows behind Sam's car. "So, about that thing you needed to tell me. What's up?"
"Oh, right!" I hum as I adjust in my seat, leaning closer to Dean. "Well, remember our conversation the other week about dogs and such...?"
"I remember the conversation about kids," he grins happily, and looks at me at the corner of his eye.
"Funny, the dog part was in the same conversation," I raise a brow.
"Funny, I thought that was an analogy of some kind."
"Dean..."
He laughs and motions for me to continue. "I'm messing with you. Go on. What about the dog?"
I take a breath and look forward at Mary and John's car in front of us now as we drive.
"Well, I was talking to one of my former parents."
"Yeah, you said so."
"They just had their second kid, and apparently adopted a puppy beforehand, hoping that they could have her trained and accustomed to their senior dog before the second baby came along."
Dean hums and nods along as he follows. "Ok..."
"Long story short, the puppy is sweet and apparently trained, just a lot of extra work and time with a 3-month-old and Walter, who's quite the character for a fifth grader. She's drowning in stress."
Dean looks at me as we stop at a light. "Y/N/N, I can take a guess where this is going, but go ahead and tell it to me straight." He squeezes my thigh where his hand lies.
"I offered to watch her for a week and give them some time off from her and possibly..." I clear my throat as I know the next part is the big decision. "Possibly take her off their hands if it works out."
I see Dean blink a few times just as the light turns green, and it takes him a moment before he registers and continues driving.
"So you were serious about the dog first thing, huh?" he says with surprised hum.
"I think if I show you the picture, you'll be serious too," I say, trying to find the picture she sent.
His hand comes to push my phone down, and he chuckles. "Y/N, I don't know how you haven't learned yet, but I trust you. If this is what you want to do or try out, I'm on board. Besides, it is something we talked about. I think applying for the trial run is a smart way to do it."
I feel a relief in my chest, not even realizing I was anxious.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he pats my lap and turns into the restaurant parking lot. "A week is a good starting time, and it tells us if we want a puppy or rather adopt a senior dog."
"True. I grew up with dogs most of my life, but when I moved out on my own in college, I couldn't have any in my rented houses, but now..." I smile as the idea grows now that we're on the same page.
Dean can see the excitement on my face and see where my mind goes. He lets out a small laugh as he puts the car into park and turns to me. "Let me see the picture before we go in."
I go to the messages from Julia and show him the three she sent me.
"A bassethound?" he says with giddy surprise.
"She's adorable, right? Her name's Poppy."
"I always thought I'd be a bloodhound or lab kinda guy, but..."
"She's just a miniature version of a bloodhound." I grin, looking at the pictures of her sprawled out on her back in the grass of their backyard.
"That's true," he hums as he zooms in on the next picture of her with her head tilted to the side, looking right at the camera. "How old is she?"
"I think they said 5 months."
"And she's trained?"
"Mostly. Potty-trained and crate-trained, yes. They're currently going to obedience school, but she said it'd be hard to maintain at home with the baby and all."
"Understandable. I'm sure that requires a lot of attention to detail and hard to do with a baby needing more attention themselves."
"So..." I say, noticing everyone getting out of their cars and heading in. "You'll think on it?"
"Darlin'," he says, handing me my phone back and cupping my cheek. "If you want to do it, we're doing it."
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who’s fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too…
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 4200+
A/N: Once again... SOOOOO sorry for how long this has taken me to get done. Inspiration has been lacking, and it finally came today. XOXOXO (12/27/25)
Chapter 32:
"Holy shit. I needed that. I almost forgot what it was like since our excursion in Alaska," Dean sighs loudly as if all the tension in his body had been massaged out just a few moments earlier at our couples spa day.
I chuckle and nod as I unlock the car from a distance. "I feel like I've created a monster."
"You've created a spa-day fiend, but I stand by my threat. Don't you dare tell the guys."
I somehow managed to extract Dean from our house once his mom showed up with pizza and puzzles for her day of taking care of Sam and Jessie. Their dad would be over shortly after getting off work, adding to the fun.
Dean still wasn't quite convinced, telling his mom, "He'll lie about taking his meds. Oh, and if he says he's fine, but is leaning on his cane a little more harshly, putting more weight into it rather than his right leg, he's lying. Make him sit down."
The laundry list of do's and don'ts for taking care of his brother, as if his mother hadn't raised them herself, continued until I managed to drag him past the porch steps and shove him into the Impala.
Our first trip was food — obviously — to get his mind off Sam, and a stop at the new burger joint that opened the week before seemed to do the trick. You'd think the man had been starved his whole life of anything good with the moans and groans he made, biting into the bacon burger made fresh.
After eating, I took him to the station to say hi to the boys and check in with everyone. I could tell that being stuck at the house for the most part had started to get to him, even if he didn't recognize it. So a quick trip where I brought one of the many casseroles we couldn't get through made for a good drop-in.
After that, we went on a short errand run to restock our movie night candies, despite Sam's protests, and to get a few things for a spa night with Jessie: face masks, nail polish, and a stuffed animal that can be microwaved and smells like lavender. Funny enough, Dean's choice.
You'd think with the chaos of the last week and people living in our house shortly after we just moved in, would start pushing me towards crazy, but honestly? I kinda liked it. My family wasn't bad, but we were pretty standard and not very exciting compared to the Winchester bunch. And sure, the circumstances aren't exactly ideal given how we got here, but I'd take the chaotic love of my life right now over something mundane and simple.
"So, when are we headed back to the house? I haven't got a text from my mom in a while with an update?" Dean asks once we're situated in the car and he's buckled, already pulling his phone out.
I reach over, stealing it from his hand and pocketing it, while he gives me a furrowed, displeased look.
"They're fine. They aren't texting you because nothing exciting is happening that you need to worry about. Besides, your mom said she wouldn't unless there was an actual emergency." I scoot back in my seat and start the car.
"But-"
"Dean. For once, let someone take care of you. Turn your brain off," I shoot him one more look before pulling out of the parking lot and getting back on the road.
"You ask that like it's even a thing."
"Well, it should be. You do too much for others and don't take care of yourself. I'm starting to think it's why the universe put me in your life, to actually slow down and let someone be there for you for once."
"People are there for me. I recognize that." Dean practically pouts on his side of the car as I call him out.
"True. But how often do you see it as an exchange?" I counter, turning a corner.
I can feel his confusion without looking. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I take a deep sigh. "Do you ever take someone's act of service or help without thinking you owe it to them in return?" He opens his mouth, but I put a finger up as I add. "And before you even think of lying to me, remember I know you very, very well, Dean Winchester."
It's silent after that, and when I look at him from the side, I see him trying to really consider a time he hadn't thought to return the favor. That's just the kind of man he is.
I reach over the console and put a hand on his knee, giving it an assuring squeeze. "It's an admirable trait you have, babe. But it can be a debilitating one as well when you don't find a balance."
"Yeah, yeah," he sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the car door with his elbow.
I can see the thoughts swimming in his brain, and a lot of them round back to our current situation and Sam's accident. In my time knowing him, I know these kinds of conversations with him in the center of it all can make him uncomfortable and worrisome, so I decided to drop it and move the conversation on.
"Sam was telling me last night that he thinks in the next 3-4 days, they'll be ready to head back home. He's doing a lot better, and his limp has already gone down a lot since the beginning of this week," I say, realizing I probably should have gone for something non-Sam related.
"He's not ready," Dean says with a tone of absolutism.
"He is. You aren't." I counter with a tired sigh. "Sam's a smart-"
"He's just a kid. He doesn't know better," he grumbles, still glaring out the window.
I take a breath through my nose, knowing that we've reached a state that will only continue to go in circles, and another time would be better. I can see the tension that was just massaged out of him slowly returning.
"Did Jessie tell you the 4th and 5th graders have a Wax Museum Night coming up?" I offer a completely different route in the conversation, hoping he'll take it too. And he does, thankfully.
"Wax museum?" he turns to me with a curious brow.
"Yeah, it's something they do for the history class every year. They pick a historical figure and come up with a little monologue to give as them. They litter the halls for a night in their cute little costumes and stay frozen in the halls until someone comes up and presses their button." I make air quotes with one hand as I mention the button.
"Button?"
"It's supposed to be the thing that triggers their character's monologue. Kids get really crafty with it. A few years back, one of the kids did Jane Goodall and brought a big, giant stuffed gorilla, and her dad built an entire backdrop with vines and greenery and made the button look like a banana. Adorable stuff."
Dean smiles at that, and I'm thankful to get his mind off things again.
"What's Jessie going as?"
"Not sure. Last, she mentioned, she was between a few choices. They don't start prepping for it until next week, but the kiddos are obviously getting excited and coming up with their ideas."
"That's cute. I like the idea of it a lot. I think I would have enjoyed school a lot more if I'd had things like that to keep me interested," Dean hums and leans back against the car seat, putting his hand on my thigh as I turn into the neighborhood. "Sounds like I'll also be building something to outdo the Jane Goodall idea."
"They're kids," I chuckle. "There isn't a reward for the best setup."
"Maybe not to them, but I'll be judging," he squeezes my leg.
When we get inside, Jessie and Mary are sitting on the floor in front of the TV set up with an entire nail kit I helped Mary find when she texted me earlier.
"You're back!" Jessie shouts from where she is and almost jumps up to greet us, but Mary holds her down, reminding her that her nails are still drying. "Right. Don't want to mess up the artwork," she winks to her grandmother, who laughs and turns to us.
"How'd you guys' day go?" She smiles as she caps the polish and returns it to the lineup.
"I'd say pretty good," I grin as Dean shuts the door behind us and puts my coat on the hanger next to it, and before his own.
"I'm gonna need to start getting a massage at least once a month," Dean says as he comes around the couch and slouches on it. "Where's Sam and Dad?"
"Dang," Mary sighs and pulls out five bucks, handing it off to Jessie.
"Yes!" Jessie fist-pumps the air and pockets the cash.
"What was that about?" Dean furrows his brow as I come and sit next to him.
"A bet on how long it'd take you to ask about Sammy," Mary answers, picking up the nail kit.
"Wait, Jessie, you want to do mine?" I ask.
She gets excited, and while the conversation continues, I move to the floor where Mary was and take her spot as Jessie decides my color.
"They went to pick up dinner. Grandpa ordered some Chinese takeout."
"We could have picked it up on the way," Dean argues as his mom sits next to him and tucks a leg under her.
"You guys were having your own day. Besides, your brother wanted out of the house for a little while. Win-win."
Dean huffs in annoyance and crosses his arms as he molds to the couch, and I can tell he's still tired. Maybe a movie night with his parents being here to help will help him take the break he needs.
"Mary, you guys staying for movie night and dinner?" I ask, my face giving a subtle plea so I can put Dean to bed early, and he won't stay up catering to his brother.
"Already in the cards, Sweetheart," she winks at me, already knowing damn well what I was thinking. I love her.
"Perfect." I smile as we get settled and Jessie picks my color and starts painting.
____________
Three more days passed, and Sam and Jessie were packed up and headed home after much convincing. Mary had to give Dean a firm talking-to the other night about how Sam is just as much an adult as he is and can make decisions for himself.
Let me just say, I didn't know Mary was capable of putting her fist down the way she did, but I was glad to be in the other room, distracting Jessie when she stole her oldest son away into the kitchen to 'straighten him out'. Dean looked like a scolded puppy, but ultimately backed off from Sam and his choice.
The silence was strange after almost two weeks of constant chatter in the house. When Dean shut the door after we escorted Sam and Jessie to their car, it felt kinda... Empty.
"Hmm," I say, head tilted as I take in the silence, and Dean flops back on the couch.
"Hm, what?" Dean's head is already leaning back against the back, and he rolls it to face me.
"Nothing," I shrug before rounding the corner. "Just quiet is all."
I can feel Dean's gaze on me as I sit next to him and look out the large front window facing our porch, seeing the start of the evening sunset crest the neighborhood.
"You know," he starts, and I turn. "For someone constantly surrounded by chaos in their normal 9-5, you'd think that you'd enjoy the quiet outside of it. Especially since it's been taken from you for almost 2 weeks." The smirk on his face tells me there's more to what he's saying.
"Yeah, well, maybe I've become so used to it over the years that I feel slightly unnerved by the stillness now."
"There are ways to fix that." His hand rests on my thigh and gives it a squeeze.
"Are you seriously trying to get me in bed only minutes after your brother and niece left?" I chuckle.
"Maybe... But maybe not for reasons you think," he wiggles his brows, and I furrow mine.
I try to connect the dots, but don't want to make the mistake of misreading them.
"Dean, what are you getting at?" I turn to face him more.
He shrugs, the eat-shit-grin only growing. "What do you think I'm getting at?"
"I don't know, which is why I'm asking." I can't help but grin. "Spit it out," I shove his shoulder playfully.
He grins more and shrugs, leaning more into me at the shove. "Well, there are loads of ways to add chaos to a house but still make it fun."
"Dean."
"One can adopt a pet or..."
"If the next thing out of your mouth revolves around a tax break crawling around this house-"
"Why not?" he says, sitting up and turning to where our knees are touching and we're face to face. "We got the house. We have the careers. We both are extremely good with kids."
"That's a huge step for wanting to add some noise to the house," I deadpan.
"Y/N," he says in a tone that tells me he's put more thought into this than I'm giving him credit for. "Tell me why the thought really scares you."
Scares? I'm not scared. I mean, I don't think... Maybe...
"We just bought this house." My point is to present a logical view.
"Yes, and it's got enough room for a kiddo to run around and grow up in. Hell, two kiddos. Perfect for that, actually," he gestures around the room where Jessie had been thrilled making her home for half a month.
"I know, but it's money. A lot of money. And we aren't even done making the renovations we had mapped out for the place. There are still projects we're doing as time passes."
"Babe, I hate to break it to ya, but as a homeowner, you'll always have projects to get done. That doesn't just hit a quota." He states with a tilt of his head and rests his arm on the back of the couch as he plays with a strand of my hair.
"No, but money-" I try to reason again.
"Bobby's in talks with the Fire Commissioner about retiring," he blurts, but doesn't seem the least bit phased to have dropped the news, as big as it is.
"I'm sorry... What?" I blink a few times and look at him.
"Bobby's ready to retire." His words are said casually as he brushes some of my hair behind my ear, and I stay frozen.
"Bu-But why?" I shake my head. "Bobby loves his job and-and-"
"A lot of people don't retire because they hate their job. Most people do because they're ready to live life and stop clocking in. Bobby's been clocking in for over 44 years. He wants to hit 45 and wrap it up," he explains in a calm and soothing voice, like he's talking to a little kid about their dog running away.
I take a moment to process cause it really isn't that alarming, but I've seen Bobby on the job. He's a pro. He's well-trained in almost anything thrown at him. He's still quick in a way people would envy.
"So what does that mean?" I ask, knowing he wouldn't be bringing this up if it didn't tie into what we're talking about.
"You're smart, Sweetheart. Do the math," he grins and scoots closer.
I did the math already and...
"You're up for his position?" I say with pride leaking through the confusion and shock. He grins wider at that.
"Bobby's already been working on his recommendations, and I just need to finish some certifications to be qualified on the legal side of it all." '
"What!" I jump up a bit in my seat, and he laughs as he pushes on my thighs to keep me from standing fully.
"It's still in the works, and they have to have a meeting with some government officials, but it's a very promising possibility."
"Dean, this is amazing! How are you being so calm right now?" I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight, before it hits me. "Wait." I pull back enough to be nose-to-nose. "As Chief, you wouldn't be doing as much ground work though, right?"
He sighs and nods as he looks down at my lips, where I feel the pad of his thumb brush them. "I'd still be on the scenes, and worst case, I can jump in, but it's hard to call a lot of the shots when you're in the middle of the action and not seeing the full picture. But... I don't know. After Sam's accident." He cups the back of my neck and gives it a squeeze as he looks me in the eyes. "I know what it's like to be on this side of things now, watching someone you love be in a position that's terrifying and uncertain. And I don't want to put you, Jessie, or anyone else, for that matter, through the stress and chance of losing me. I want to be around for a long time, and if that means leaving my glory days behind... It'd be worth it."
I know this wasn't an easy decision. I know he put time and thought into it, and I'm not going to sit here and question it even if I want to make sure, but...
"I'm only going to ask once, and I'll believe you with whatever you tell me, but," I take a breath as I hold his arm that's still holding me and give it a squeeze. "You're sure this is what you want? I know how much being a firefighter means to you and your love for the job."
He shrugs softly, and a soft smile takes over his lips. "I'm sure, Honey. I'll still be working, so it's not like I'm saying goodbye. Just taking on new roles."
"You had a good rolemodel."
"I did. And I hope I can be even a fraction as good a chief as he was."
Dean leans forward and rests his forehead on mine. We sit like that for a long moment, closing our eyes and taking a few breaths together.
"And to round it back to what I was going to say... You and my family are reason enough to look out for my health and safety, but if we had a kid," he pulls back and looks at every feature of my face like he's picturing it in a different form. "I'm not risking missing any part of their life."
It makes my heart grow even more for the man in front of me at his sentiment. Because if there is one thing Dean is, it's a good man. One only written about in books.
"Are we ready for something like that, though?" I question, doing the same action as him earlier, and tucking his slightly longer hair behind his ear.
"Is anyone truly ready?" he scrunches his nose as he lifts me and shifts me to his lap.
"I guess not, but we should be as ready as possible before even considering it." I get comfortable.
"True. True," he hums, leaning his cheek against my head. "So... What are your thoughts? Leave the conversation behind? Wrap back around to the topic at a later date? Finish a few projects before trying? Get a pet?"
I take a deep breath as I consider the options. "Give me some time to think about the logistics. Maybe we should start off with something smaller before diving into parenthood."
"So, get a dog?"
"Have you ever had a dog?" I chuckle.
"No, which is why it'd be great practice."
"Babies aren't the same as puppies."
"They eat, shit, and whine just like a child. Is it really that different?" I hear a slight tease in his voice.
"Well, for one, dogs can be left in a crate for 5-8 hours, whereas that'd be considered child endangerment the other way around."
"That's valid." He sighs as if he's considering other issues they may share. "Now what's the difference between watching PG-13 movies with a dog and a two-year-old? Because if you count in dog-years, when they're two, they can technically watch The Shining."
"That's rated R."
"Psh, it's not that bad," he scrunches his face and bats at the air.
"Out of all the questions and comparisons you could think of, you're really going that route?"
"I'm just saying..." he says with a shrug and leans back into the couch, holding me around the waist to pull me with him. "Stop your worrying, Y/N. I helped raise Jessie, didn't I? She turned out pretty amazing."
"She did, but a full-time kid is different."
"I was full-time from four and on."
"Yeah, well, birth to four years old has some pretty important time stamps."
He blows out an exaggerated breath through his lips and slumps his head against my shoulder. "You're not helping me win you over."
"I'm supposed to be doing that?" I laugh.
"You're supposed to be fainting in pure bliss at the idea of having a kid with me, so yeah."
I playfully shove his chest at his tease and shake my head. "Hate to break it to ya, there's a lot more I'll be going through in the process of making a child than you will. All that's necessary of you is to orgasm. I have to actually build the child." My hand lands on my stomach naturally.
I hear something of a faint, deep hum from Dean and see him follow my hand.
"Hot." The only word he says, and his eyes look hungry all of a sudden.
I scoff a laugh. "Seriously?"
"What?" He says, looking up at me. "You being pregnant is hot. Knowing I'd be the reason for it does something to me biologically."
"Sir, do you have a breeding kink we need to discuss-"
He bellows out a real laugh. "No. I just think the idea of starting a family with you is something I can 100% get behind. You being a mom just adds to your charm."
"Charming or hot? Can't be both, Winchester."
"Can't it be?" he gives me an aunery grin. "There is one thing, though, I'd prefer to handle before solidifying a family. Not that's it's necessary considering not much of our relationship has been mainstream, but... I'd like for the mother of my children to have my last name."
Marriage. The word of my nightmares. Or what used to be. Now it just kinda feels...
"Is that a dealbreaker?" I ask, suddenly slightly nervous.
"No." His answer is honest. "But it'd be a bonus." He hums as he nuzzles his nose into my neck. "Don't worry, Dollface. I'm not proposing to you yet. I'm still waiting on the green light on your end to even tread that route."
I hum as I consider all the things brought up in the last ten minutes. So many points had been raised in a short span. Things that normally would have me trying to change the topic and divert from, but it doesn't feel like that this time.
"I'd say yes," I say softly, almost surprising myself at those words. Then they register, and I realize, they're true. "I'd say yes," I repeat, looking at him with more certainty the second time.
"Y-You would?" Dean asks, this time he's the one to be surprised.
An authentic grin grows on my lips as the realization hits me. "I would."
A long moment passes of us just staring at each other, both in slight disbelief, but joy and excitement more than anything else.
"Y/N-"
"I don't want anything crazy. Nothing eccentric and over the top. If you ask me, I want it to be in a moment where it's what you truly feel and want. I want it to be genuine."
"Baby, there hasn't been a single thing with you I haven't done genuinely," he grins, turning me in his lap so he can bracket my face in his hands. "Best believe that I'd do the same in all the other milestones we have lined up for us."
"You don't have to-" Before I can finish the sentence, his hand comes up and lands over my mouth swiftly.
"I love you, Y/N, but you think too much. And right now, all I can think about is the fact that you just confirmed you want to marry me. Now, if you don't mind." He lifts me in a split second and has my legs wrapped around his middle as he palms both sides of my ass and looks from my eyes to my lips and back to my eyes. The hunger that peaked through earlier, clear as day now. "I'm going to take you into our room, and we're going to practice the ancient art of baby making so we know what we're doing in the future when we get to that next step."
"I think we have that down," I chuckle as he starts stalking to the bedroom.
"Practice makes perfect, Sweetheart. And I am anything but a lazy content man when it comes to fucking you senseless."
My stomach bottoms out at that alone, and I hum, leaning down and kissing his neck as I say, "In that case, please show your skill, Mr. Winchester."
He groans at that, and the last thing I hear before our night turns to a long one is the door shutting swiftly behind us.
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who’s fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too…
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 5300+
A/N: SOOOOO sorry for how long this has taken me to get done. I've had so much life things come up and have barely had the mindset to step away and write. This chapter was intended to be longer and include a follow-up to the chapter's ending, but I wanted to post something for you all, so it'll continue in the next chapter. XOXOXO (11/11/25)
Chapter 31:
"Y/N! Where's Jessie's stuffie?" Dean shouts from the living room.
"Check the dryer! I washed it last night after our thank-you card party!" I shout back from our room, where I'm finishing putting my hair in a braid for the day.
It's been a week since moving Sam out of the hospital and setting him up in our guestroom. He's getting along well enough, but has only recently started walking without a horrible limp and the need for a cane. But to say our lives at home have changed is an understatement.
Dean took off work for the week to help him bounce back, and while he's at home doing that, I've been getting Jessie to and from school. Everyone has been a great help, coming and bringing us dinner, dropping off necessities here and there, and a load of little things that help a ton. Mel had baked us a pie and brought it yesterday to work, and when I brought it home, I'm pretty sure Dean and Jessie ate 3/4ths of it on their own.
This weekend, however, we are taking the time to relax after a long and tiring week. I liked to be at the school a good thirty minutes before my contract time to get things set up and so on, and Jessie has thankfully loved it and isn't a grump in the morning, unlike what I'd expect an 8-year-old to be. Our transition to early school transportation, setup, and coming back has been nothing short of easy and smooth.
Unfortunately for Dean, I don't think it's as effortless. He's been struggling more with reprimanding his brother for not taking it easy while at home than I have with a group of 22 little 3rd graders and Jessie.
Thursday, Jessie and I walked into a screaming match between the two about Sam not being allowed to sit outside for longer than 10 minutes because it's getting too cold, and Sam arguing that he's not a kid anymore and he knows his limits. It was comical more than concerning, given that Dean had on one of my kitchen aprons because he was meal prepping, and it was tough to take him seriously with a pastel gingham and ruffled cottage-core-type garment, and a wooden spoon as his chastening stick.
"Jessie, you hear that?" Dean yells again, to where I'm assuming is Jessie's bare feet padding along the terracotta square tiles that make up the majority of our house.
"Yeah! I'm checking!"
I chuckle as I tie off my braid and grab the sweatshirt I rarely hang thanks to the constant wear, and head into the living space where Sam is clicking away on a computer, one leg propped on the ottoman that's facing the TV.
"Sammy, you taken your meds for after lunch yet?" Dean's baritone voice is heard again, but this time it sounds like he's in the linen closet in the hall.
I look in that direction before turning to Sam, who deadpans to me and mouths, "Shoot me."
If I've learned anything about this situation, it's that Dean locks in when it comes to taking care of people.
In this week alone, he's balanced random calls from the station that correlate with his ranking. He's helped with meal prep in between taking care of Sam because he wanted Jessie and me to have lunches every day of the week, and to come home and have dinner ready. A lot of it centered around red-meat-heavy cuisine, but I convinced him to try a pasta and crockpot recipe here and there, much to Jessie, Sam, and my relief. And he's been taking care of the household chores as best he can while keeping a watchful eye on his brother.
Though I'm learning, I should probably keep a more persistent watch on the guy since Sam is near his wits' end, constantly being checked on and supervised.
But then again... Every morning, he makes some kind of breakfast for Jessie and me to take on the way to school, while also getting the little girl dressed and ready, while I get ready myself. It's made me see him in a new light, as an uncle, but also... A dad. And god. My ovaries are clawing to make this a permanent routine with him.
But with the 20 other things he's taken on to make everyone around him's life easier, I know he's enjoying doing it more than most people would. And that right there, ladies and gentlemen, is why I can never see myself escaping this man- as if that's even in the damn cards.
Under a horrible series of events, it's not the way either of us wanted to add Sam and Jessie to our household for a bit, but I'd say Dean would keep it this way for as long as he could, just for the family aspect of seeing his brother and niece more often. (Even if his brother keeps calling him Martha Stewart and other famous homemakers' names to get on his nerves in retaliation for the smothering.)
Last night, when I got home from work with Jessie, Sam explained that he had Mary, their mom, drop off some things to make thank-you cards for all the people who had lent a hand in taking care of them. So after dinner, we all partook in some low-maintenance crafting and wrote letters. We also helped Jessie add some 'pizazz' as she stated to make them prettier and mean more. So paintbrushes, glitter, glue, and stickers were added to the mix, leaving quite the mess to handle this morning.
I grin at Sam, who rolls his eyes and goes back to his computer before mumbling just loud enough for Dean to hear, "Yes, Mrs. Doubtfire, the meds have been taken."
I hear slight stomping back into the room, and he stops right at the ledge of a step where it drops to the living room, and puts his fist on his hips. "Don't you dare put down a Robin Williams classic. Mrs. Doubtfire is a national treasure."
"So wouldn't you want to be called that?" Sam huffs a laugh, not even looking up from his computer.
"Not when it's a snarky comment. I want it to be from the heart," Dean huffs, taking the pair of socks I now see he has fisted in his hand and tossing them at Sam's head.
"Hey!"
"Put those on. It's eight degrees colder than yesterday."
Dean huffs away into the laundry room to help Jessie find her stuffed Build-A-Bear they got a few years back, and dressed him in firefighter gear. He's now down to only a firefighter shirt and one suspender connected to nothing but the two strands of sewing thread originally keeping it together. And now, likely covered in glitter inside and out...
"Stay-at-home moms are so strung out these days," I tease, leaning against the doorway to the living room and crossing my ankles. Sam gives me an exasperated huff of air and shakes his head before going back to clacking on the keyboard of his computer. "Has he been like this all week?"
"Worse when you two aren't home. I think having others to bear that obsessive nurturing monster he's possessed by, he eases off on me some. Which is why I'm tempted," he starts, shifting in his spot to shove the pair of socks under the couch cushion, "to check Jessie out of school Tuesday so that he's not bugging me as much and he can focus that energy on her."
"Strategic. I like it," I make an approving face and nod. "But if it makes you feel any better, I think you'll get that breath of fresh air sooner than you think because I called your mom and asked her to come hang out with you and Jessie for a bit, while I whisk Dean away and let him take a minute to himself. Sorry," I put a hand up. "Not 'let', I'm making him do it whether he likes it or not."
Sam visibly relaxes a bit at those words. "Really?" he sighs like a huge weight was taken off his shoulder.
"Yeah, really," I chuckle. "I feel like I've had the better end of the deal this week. I mean, the normal chaos of teaching was just accompanied by Jessie and me singing along in the car to some good hits, getting free pre-made meals, and the house being clean all week. You got the new roommate/stay-at-home mother experience."
"Understatement of the year," he huffs and closes his laptop, putting it to the side as he gets comfortable. "Ok, that really makes me feel better," he rests his head back on the couch, and I chuckle as I approach the back of the adjacent couch. "And I know I keep saying it, but thank you-"
"Sam."
"I know, I know, but it's not just a thank you this time."
"It doesn't need to be anything more-"
"Y/N."
We're too similar, it seems. I sigh and wave him on to continue, even though I don't need to hear one more time that he's grateful for what I've been doing.
"Thank you." He says about letting him speak. "I'm thankful for all this, yes, and I'm glad you know that, but... With more than just the day-to-day things." He looks behind me as if to make sure no one is coming in. "With her losing her mom so young, she doesn't get that bonding experience she deserves with a woman role model as often as I'd like. Every night she comes into my room to talk about her day before she goes to bed, and she always has you as one of her good parts of the day. Carpool karaoke, helping you make copies and prep your classroom, riding home after school, and gossiping about who likes who in 4th grade. The list that goes on and on just reminds me all the more of the things you're doing without realizing it. So... Thank you. Truly. For being that for her."
I smile genuinely and softly at that. "Jessie's an amazing kiddo. A kid that is truly one in a million. You've done an amazing job raising her, and you've surrounded her with more role models than you realize. But either way, I'm elated to be that for her too."
We share a silent look and nod of thanks just before we hear two sets of feet pattering into the room. By the sounds of it, Dean followed by the little mini-him most days.
"Sam," He grumbles lowly.
"Sam," Jessie says in a mock repetition.
I have to suck in my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing at the picture in front of me now. Dean, tense and annoyed with his arms crossed, barefoot in jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, and Jessie in the same stance, also barefoot in jeans, subbing the Henley for a scooby-doo long-sleeved.
"Where did you hide the pie?" Dean questions, eyes narrowed past me to his little brother, who grows an eat-shit grin.
"Yeah, where'd you put it?" Jessie asks, trying to keep the same annoyed tone as her uncle, but failing at hiding the giggle under it.
I give her a thumbs up to support her acting choice, and she does her attempt at winking, which hasn't matured out of a blink still. God, I love these dorks.
"You two ate more than half of it last night," Sam argues, grabbing his computer to hop back on now that Dean's back in his face.
"Y/N had some too!" Dean pointed at me like I was an accomplice.
"Yeah, she did!" Jessie seconds, copying all his actions.
"She had one slice like a normal person," Sam deadpans.
"No, a normal person eats at least seconds from a homemade pie," Dean argues, and looks to me. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you're wrong for that."
"So you mentioned many times last night," I hum, completely unbothered by this conversation, as I turn and lean back against the couch.
"It's alright, it could be worse," Dean takes a breath in and leans back on his bowed legs, talking as if I offended the queen. "Better than Thumper here, who didn't even take a bite of it." He looks at Sam with disgust and disappointment all wrapped in one. "How are we even related?"
"I ask myself that every day," Sam mumbles under his breath, where only I can hear it, and I snicker, covering my mouth.
"Besides the point!" Dean waves his arms and steps down the one step and struts into the living room. "Where's the pie, Sammy?"
"Fess up, Sammy," Jessie says, standing by his side. Both of the bafoons stared down Sam from the back of the couch.
"First off, stop copying your uncle. I can barely handle one of you at a time," Sam turns and points a finger at Jessie. "Second, it's Dad to you."
Dean huffs a dramatic scoff, and Jessie looks up, seeing the action and giving her own dramatic mimicry of it.
"Dear God. They've fused into one brain," I fake gasp from the side.
And Dean looks at me, narrowing his eyes like I'm next on his list. I bite back a grin and put my hands up in mock surrender. He seems pleased with that enough to look back at his brother.
"You don't tell me where it is and I'll drive Jessie to the store and we'll buy every forbidden candy known to mankind until our cart is overflowing."
"Ditto," Jessie nods sternly, not using the term exactly how it's meant, but cute either way.
Sam rolls his eyes and looks back at them. "Fine. I'll tell you where it is on one condition."
"Classic lawyer talk," Dean nudges Jessie like they're comrades in a unit.
"Classic," Jessie rolls her eyes like all this exasperates her, too.
"You two can have the pie back as long as you eat a reasonable amount for your health." He looks like a true dad, bartering with his kids.
Dean and Jessie look at each other and silently communicate negotiations.
"Fine." Dean decides. "But I get two slices at least cause I'm older and bigger."
"Hey!" Jessie gasps as if that's not what the silent agreement was.
"Sorry, kid. Fair is fair. Every man for himself."
"You've always taught me that was a stupid saying!"
"Yeah, well, in this case. It works. Seniority rules."
Dean walks away smugly after Sam gives him the location of the pie, and Jessie stomps behind him, looking ready to jump on his back any second.
"So about that whisking away..." I say, hinting at our conversation earlier about Dean.
"Please, for the love of god, don't take your time."
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who’s fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too…
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 5300+
A/N: Enjoy! I know I am writing it :) (9/24/25)
Chapter 30:
I didn't get much sleep last night. I was too worried about every single member of the Winchester group to settle my brain long enough to get more than a few hours.
Jessie was quiet when we got back to the house. I never planned for her first sleepover at our home to be under these depressing conditions. It was supposed to be exciting, something to look forward to, something to plan out with her to experience, but now it's just... Melencholic.
I did my best to make her feel at home and to keep the energy light. We watched The SpongeBob Movie, per her request, and snuggled up on Dean's and my bed. I made some popcorn with M&M's and tried to give some kind of positive spin to the upsetting ending of the day, and distracted her as best I could before she eventually dozed off, curled into my side.
The whole situation reminded me of the night I brought her to the station when Dean had been injured on the job. The poor girl has been put through more trauma and nerve-racking positions than a person can mentally handle. As a teacher, this is definitely one of those times I'd recommend a weekly counselor check-in and possible therapist appointments just to help with what I'm sure has developed into anxiety over loved ones. But for now, I'll be that pillar until the boys are home and safe.
When we wake in the morning, we both still look a little strung out, but better than if we'd stayed at the hospital overnight. I can't imagine how Dean's doing, but according to his text last night and this morning, he's faring well. Liar.
Jessie tells me about a diner on the other side of the hospital that Dean used to take her to often during their frequent visits in the area, and we decided to get him and ourselves a greasy breakfast sandwich and some coffee to go visit them.
We ate our food before heading into the hospital and getting the green light from the kind nurse at the front, who led us back to the room.
I knocked on the door to the room, nervous for what we were about to see, but Dean's low voice shouts, "Come in," and something about his voice alone tells me it'll be all ok.
It's Jessie who turns the handle and lets herself in first, and I'm right behind her. She starts slow and unsure, but peaks around the large barrier before I notice she stops. The door isn't fully open, so I can't see what she is, but I do hear a, "Hey, sweetgirl." The words raspy and quiet, but elated either way.
"Daddy!" she sounds, and doesn't hesitate anymore before the doors open and she's rushing to his side.
With the unrestricted view now, I see Dean standing and straightening his jeans from the night before and running a hand over his face, trying to blink away exhaustion that is clearly not leaving anytime soon.
Sam, however, is looking better than I expected, but still a bit beaten and bruised. He has a butterfly bandage on his eyebrow, and a few other minor cuts litter his hands, face, and neck. He's got an IV in one hand, monitors on the other, and some sticky patches under his gown where wires are trailing out of the hospital attire and leading to more beeping screens.
I've definitely seen worse, so to see him awake and smiling, even if a bit slower than normal, eases something in my chest.
"Hey, you," Dean's already by my side before I realize I've been taking in the room and Sam, and he wraps me in a bear hug that I can feel he needed more than the cup of strong coffee I brought him.
I return it, hands filled with a to-go bag in one and said coffee in the other, but I squeeze him back as best I can. "Hey, handsome."
He pulls back when he sniffs the air and smells the bacon grease leaking through the bottom of the brown sack. "Please tell me that's for me."
"I got two for ya." I grin proudly and hand them off when he pulls back and smells the coffee.
"An angel sent from above," he groans, eyes rolling back in his head dramatically as he holds his prizes up like a catch of the day. "I love you," he says, kissing my lips in a delicate peck and moving into the room, putting the goodies on a rolling table that was next to Sam's bed.
Jessie is as close to Sam as she can get, and he's leaning as best he can to hold her hand and run the other over her face.
I smile at the scene, and Dean decides to pause on his meal, grabbing the coffee before using his free hand to motion me over.
"How you feeling, honey?" Sam asks her, brushing a stray tear off her cheek.
She shrugs, negating the question and throwing it back to him. "What about you?"
Sam smiles softly at that and pinches her cheek, careful of the small cut that lies on it. "I'm fine, Jay. I'm doing really well, actually."
"It's true. Doctor said all that rabbit food he eats and running he does is helping him heal," Dean adds, pulling me into his side and taking a sip of coffee. "Who would have thought, right?"
Jessie chuckles at that, and I finally see some of that grey hard shell she'd caved herself in the last 24 hours start to crack.
"You know what that means," Sam winks, booping Jessie's nose as he sits back slowly in the bed, head still turned to his daughter. "You really gotta eat your vegetables if you're going to grow up like me."
Jessie scrunches her nose in distaste at that. "Ugh."
Sam laughs, careful not to pull any stitches or overdo it.
"Of course he'd make this a life lesson," Dean rolls his eyes and scoffs under his breath as he moves for the to-go bag with the exact opposite of what Sam is preaching.
"Yeah, you're the pinnacle of health." I look to him as he unwraps the parchment paper sandwich that looks almost translucent because of the amount of grease that it's soaked up.
He takes a giant bite, cheeks full to the brim, all while staring at me with playful eyes. "Watch it, Carter," he narrows his gaze, and in that tone and look alone, I know he's nowhere close to his mood from last night. Things really must be good for everyone involved.
I put my hands up in mock surrender and chuckle, and he grins with a wink, showing me his demand was flirtatious.
"When do you get to go home?" Jessie questions, and I moved to sit on the arm of Dean's chair that he's standing next to.
"About that..." Sam starts and looks up at Dean behind Jessie and then me, before looking back at her. "I'm gonna be a little slow for a few weeks while healing. And your uncle-"
"I'm making you guys stay with us until your stubborn ass dad is back on his feet fully." Dean interrupts, completely unbothered by the fact that his brother looks annoyed and irritated by the declaration.
"Language." Sam glares at Dean for just a second before looking to me with softer eyes. "I don't want to impede, and am perfectly fine just having someone come check on me at our place. You guys just moved in, and I don't want to crash your lives-"
Dean opens his mouth, his breakfast sandwich in hand forgotten as he makes his point, but I put a hand on his chest and look to Sam. "Nonsense. You're staying with us."
Dean's puffed chest deflates, and I can practically feel the smug grin spread across his grease-lined lips in an annoying, 'I win' and 'eat shit' brotherly smirk.
"My girl said it. So now you have to listen," he hums, stepping forward so my hand is pressed more into his chest. "And don't make her use her teacher voice," he taunts further.
"Dean."
"Yes, ma'am."
He moves backwards a step at my reprimand, giving me the floor back like a good boyfriend.
"But he's right. I said it, so it's happening." I shrug and cross my arms, confident in my choice. "You're not going to be able to heal and function fully on your own without some help. Besides, this way, I can take Jessie to and from school. That's one less thing you and she will have to worry about, and it makes more sense for you both to just stay with us for a few weeks."
"Y/N already has the guest room set up for anyone who comes over. Jessie's room is still in the works, but she's got a bed and a dresser," Dean adds. "I'll go back to your house and grab anything else you two need for the stay."
Sam sighs, knowing we're right. Even with his pride, he knows his daughter would benefit from this setup much more than watching her disabled father get around the house in pain and low mobility.
"You're sure this isn't a bother?"
"You're always a bother in my ass," Dean answers. "But I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, more Scooby Doo marathons at night," Dean pokes Jessie's shoulder and holds a hand up waiting for a high five from her. She laughs and returns it. "Hell yeah."
"We really gotta work on your language around her," Sam sighs, a hand going to his temple and rubbing it.
It's then a nurse comes in and steals our attention. "Hi, sorry to interrupt. There are a few visitors outside, but I told them to wait because the doctor will be coming in any moment. A man named Benny, I believe, asked if he could talk with you."
Dean takes a bite of his sandwich and pats Jessie's shoulder. "Come on, munchkin. We'll come back in after the doctor. I'm gonna take you to wait with Uncle Benny for a minute."
"But-" she starts to protest, looking at her dad.
"It's ok, kiddo. Go let Benny and Bobby know I'm ok. Dean will bring you back after we talk with the doctor. I'll still be here," he winked to her and tugged on the ends of the braids I did her hair in this morning.
She hesitates, but Dean keeps a steady hand on her shoulder when she finally rises. "Y/N/N, mind keeping him company until I get back?" he asks as he guides his niece to the door.
"Happy to," I smile and turn back to Sam when they leave.
"Y/N, you truly don't know how much this means. Everything up to last night to letting us stay-"
"Don't. Seriously. We're..." I hesitate, but I can't find a better word for it. "We're family. I would do this a 1000x over if you needed me to. All of you."
Sam smiles softly as his head falls back against the bed. There are unspoken words of gratitude, peace, and relief in his look, but also... Slight mischief. "Does that mean you'd say yes if my bird-for-brains brother dropped down on one knee sometime soon?"
My eyes widen, and I stiffen some. "Wait, is he-He's not proposing, is he-?"
Sam chuckles before I can fully panic and shakes his head. "Relax. He's not getting down on one knee yet. Although..." Sam adjusts in his bed. "I wouldn't doubt he'd do it in a heartbeat if you gave him the green flag the second he comes back through that door."
I turn slightly bashful at that. I feel like I'm stringing Dean along, knowing we both want it, but I can't seem to commit to the idea yet. Then again, at the same time, I don't picture anyone else when it comes to forever. So why am I struggling so much with the concept or sealing it?
"I get it," Sam says, snapping me out of the thoughts bouncing in my head. "The whole re-putting yourself out there. It's... Scary. Really fucking scary," he sighs. "I mean obviously, we have different scenarios, but." He takes as deep a breath as he can manage and looks at the door, making sure no one is about to barge in. "Jess was my person. We met in college, dated for a long time, moved in, got engaged at the tail end of law school, and... And when the cancer finally caught up to her almost a decade later." He keeps staring at the door like she'll walk in. "I told myself I'd never put myself in that position again to feel my heart getting ripped out the way it did. It's an inevitable thing in a mortal life."
I listen carefully and step closer as my panic settles, listening to his thoughts verbalize. He looks to me after a long beat, and I give him a sad smile, which he returns.
"Loving someone is hard because the moment you fall, the moment it pulls you under, you're done for. No matter what. But grief is the price we pay for the love we get to experience."
I soak those words in, but my brow furrows. "Why are you telling me this?"
He sighs and rests his head back on the bed, then lulls his gaze to face me. "Because you're basing your choices on things you couldn't control in the past. Your ex was a piece of shit that you managed to escape based on the choices you could make. But love? Real love? The choices in that are more like a tidal wave of survival. You're thrown into the rapids and can make certain turns, but it's not all up for debate." A scoffed laugh. "And I know a thing or two about that." His hand finds mine and gives it a soft, comforting squeeze on the edge of his bed. "Y/N, all you're doing is depriving the future you of a blissful kind of love that some people never get in a lifetime. And take it from someone currently in a hospital bed," he gestures. "It's too damn short to deprive yourself of that kind of love. I'd live a 1000 of the lives I've lived up until now, Jess's medical journey included, if I still got the memories we made outside of that. Because there were so many more of those moments..." He says with complete and utter realism. "Don't withhold yourself from experiencing those things, Y/N/N. You deserve happiness, and the prick of an ex that made you second-guess it, it's he who doesn't merit that kind of life. And he lost you so..." Sam shrugs barely. "He's not getting it this time around. Maybe if he ever figures his shit out, he can get another try in the next lifetime or two."
I don't realize it until it's hitting the back of my hand, but a single tear slips, and I quickly take my hand back, wiping it again and laughing awkwardly at getting emotional.
"Damn it, Sam. What kind of meds did they give you to make you all wise and philosophical?" I sniffle and wipe under my eyes as I try to laugh it off.
"As annoying as my brother is, if there is one thing I know about him, it's that he will fight tooth and nail to be the person his family needs him to be. And then some." He thankfully laughs with me and stretches his long legs. "The day Dean makes a choice to hurt you in any way is the day the apocalypse has started, and I'm satan reincarnated."
I chuckle, sniffling away the emotion that broke through. "So, never is what I'm hearing?"
He grins softly, the 50% puppy gene in him coming through. "If the day ever does come, I'll make sure to take him back down to hell with me."
"What a strong promise."
"But seriously," he says after we laugh for a minute. "Life is too damn short to play it safe when it comes to love. And I've seen you two. There is no doubt Dean is your person, and you're his. Don't waste more time fearing the worst-case scenario."
I put a hand on his shoulder, the only way I can think to thank him when I don't want to hug him and risk ruining the placement of the things attached to him.
"Fine. But I'm only doing it so I can have a lawyer as a brother-in-law."
We laugh again, breaking up the emotional tension. He asks me to hand him his water, which I do, and he clears his throat.
"One more thing," he says, handing me it back. "Before the doctor comes in and before Dean comes back to play the man in charge." I furrow my brows. "Last night, Dean was on the phone, and he didn't know it, but I heard him talking about finding the guy who did this." He doesn't have to clarify what I already know. "Apparently, they moved him to a different hospital, and Dean's been trying to hunt him down. He's pissed- rightfully so. And I can't say exactly that I'm against it, considering Jessie was a part of the equation, and I don't know what I would have done is something-" He cuts himself off, and I see the rage itch there, but he shakes his head. "The moral compass in me and the lawyer mindset remind me that justice in this scenario will be a longer solution than revenge."
I know all these things, but I completely understand the anger that the men hold because I, too, hold it. A car wreck where the other person genuinely lost control is one thing, but to actively put yourself on the road when you're intoxicated and not of sound mind, boils the blood in my veins.
"He has the connections, given his first responder ins," Sam pinches the bridge of his nose. "I worry he'll do something he regrets and end up hurting himself more by listening to those thoughts. I mean," he looks back at me. "He was put on probation after the night at the bar. Obviously, it wasn't too bad considering he was defending you, but in this case? Hunting the man down and doing god knows what to settle the need for vengeance won't work in his favor."
"What can I do?" I ask, knowing that's what he's building up to.
"I'll talk to him," Sam says. "But it won't be enough. Benny, Bobby, Cas, my dad, will too, but he won't listen. Not fully. You, though... He'll listen to you."
"I don't know, Sam. I really don't."
"I do. You're his anchor. The only person I've seen successfully bring him down. It won't be easy, but if anyone can get him to consider the right way about this, it's you."
I don't know what to say, and by the time I respond, there's a soft knock, and the doctor is peeking his head in. "Hey. Sorry to interrupt, but I needed to go over a few things with you and run a few tests." The older gentleman smiles as he steps in, and I move out of the way for him to sneak by.
He checks Sam's blood oxygen and a few other things that beep; I couldn't tell you what they are. And when he's checking his heart rate, Dean comes in.
"Sorry, what'd I miss?" Dean closes the door gently behind him and comes to my side.
"Nothing. He just came in and is running a few tests," I answer as the doctor unplugs the stethoscope from his ears.
"Everything is sounding good there," he notes, going to the other side of the bed and clicking a few things on the computer by the machines.
"I'll go wait outside with Jess and the others," I say, moving to give them privacy. Dean's hand tightens on my arm as he reaches for me, though, and he shakes his head. "It's fine. Right, Sam?" He looks at Sam.
"Stay," Sam nods. "If I'm going to be living with you for a few weeks, it's probably best you know what you're going to be dealing with." His smile is soft and teasing.
"A pain in the ass. You're about to live a glimpse of my childhood," Dean chuckles, pulling me back to him and holding my hand where his drops from my shoulder.
"That was you," Sam counters, giving his arm to the doctor as he pulls out a blood pressure cuff.
"Potato, potah-toe," Dean says, watching the doctor closely.
"You'll have help then?" The doctor asks, taking his blood pressure the old-school way, but based on his appearance, I'd say it was how he was taught in school and never bothered to change with the times.
"Yeah, I'm staying with those two as per their demands."
"Smart choice with a little girl around, too," he responds, placing the cold circle over Sam's pulse. "You're lucky to have family like them."
We stay silent for a bit while we watch him run the usual tests and ask a few questions about aches and pains before coming to his conclusion.
"Well, I'd say a few more days of overnight monitoring to make sure the surgery is set and nothing tears or escalates."
"A few, as in just two more nights?" Dean asks.
"I'd say so. We'll make that call when the two nights are up. But as of now, he's healing well and was very lucky given the state you were found in," he nods to Sam and writes something on a notepad. "I'll have the nurse bring some pain meds since you can't necessarily take the morphine home. Unless one of you two knows how to do an IV," he jokes as he turns to me and Dean.
"My one semester of nursing school only got me the history portion of nursing, nothing past that," I tease with a small laugh, and Dean turns to me.
"You went to nursing school?" He says, shocked and impressed at the same time.
I wave him off. "It was a whole thing, but I went back to education after one semester. Wasn't the place for me or my heart."
Dean smiles at that and wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side and pressing a kiss to the side of my head before looking back at the doctor. "I can stay with him for the next two nights. We've got arrangements and a village to support the kiddo while we're here."
"Good. Well, I'm going to do my other rounds since he's in tip-top shape," he thumbs up and moves to the door. "If you need anything, press the call button for a nurse, and we'll get you squared away."
With that, he's gone, and Dean's attention is back to his brother. "Two more nights in the slammer, huh? May need to run home and pack an overnight bag."
"I can stay if you want to go home and rest for a bit," I offer, trying to tame some of the cowlick that's standing up on the back of his head.
He starts to shake his head no, but Sam speaks up and nods. "Let her, Dean. Ellen and Bobby are here too. You're running on fumes."
"Mom and Dad are headed too. They were going to come last night, but-"
"Bobby called them off," Sam nods, already knowing. "I know. You told me."
"I did?" Dean asks, scratching his beard that seems to have already grown from last night and the stress.
"You're exhausted, Dean. It's obvious. Go rest," I say, patting his arm. "We're covered here."
Dean eventually nods, but turns to look back at Sam one more time for confirmation.
"Go. Take a nap and pack a bag. You'll be back in no time."
I don't know how, but we managed to convince the stubborn ass to take a minute for himself. He gives me a kiss goodbye and hugs Jesse before heading out the waiting room doors.
I brought Jessie back in when Sam was set, and they sat and chatted for a bit while I sat in Dean's abandoned chair and stayed off to the side while they caught up.
About two hours later, Mary and John made it. They'd been out of town for a vacation when everything happened, and started driving back as soon as Dean contacted them, but the road trip was over 12 hours without stops, so Bobby had managed to convince them to find a hotel halfway, and then trek the other half in the morning.
With them there, I let them have some one-on-one time with Sam and Jessie, and headed back to the house to check on Dean, help him pack, and update him before driving him back himself.
When I got home, I was happy to have a moment with him alone outside of the hospital walls. Where I thought he'd be getting up and halfway out the door by the time I got there, it was quiet when I walked in.
The soft sounds of his snores when he's truly exhausted guided me to our bed, where he was splayed out in a star shape, in a new pair of clothes, shoes haphazardly kicked to the side, and face down on the mattress.
I smile softly at the sight, knowing immediately he was a lot more exhausted than he was leading on. I pull my phone out, taking a quick picture and sending it to the group message full of everyone at the hospital.
Me: Someone's getting some actual rest. I'm gonna pack him a bag while he's out, and I'll text you guys when we're headed back.
I quietly move to the closet to grab one of his duffel bags, and after throwing a few flannels in the mix, I get a response back.
Benny: HA! Poor sucker. He didn't stand a chance as soon as he touched that comforter.
Bobby: Keep him there as long as you can. The longer he sleeps, the less of a toddler we have to deal with.
John: I second that from experience.👍🏼
Mon: I'm gonna run out and get lunch, so let me know your order and we'll have it for you when you two get back :)
Mary: Thank you again, Y/N. We don't deserve you, but appreciate it like no other❤️ Sammy is doing well; he's been sleeping for a bit himself. Jessie is currently balled up on his good side, sleeping like her uncle.
*Picture of the two snuggled*
I smile at the text thread and heart the picture Dean's mom sent.
Me: More than happy to help in any way I can❣️ I'll pack a few extra things, like chargers and entertainment, to pass the time. Just let me know if you guys need anything before we head back.
I continue to pack Dean an overnight bag and set it by the front door as he sleeps. I go ahead and pack a bag of my own just in case, and go to the kitchen to straighten up the last bit we didn't get to last night. Thankfully, the house was cleaned after the party, so I used the spare time to pack some snacks and finger foods from the gathering in an ice chest.
The groggy shuffles of sock-covered feet sound around the corner, and while I'm putting the last ice pack in the cooler, I see a messy-haired, dazed Dean come in, rubbing at his tired eyes.
"Hey, sleepy," I smile at the innocent look on the man's face. I can't help but still feel my stomach flip at how much I love him. And gods... Why does he look so adorably hot when he's just waking up?
"Mornin'," he replies with a grunt, moving to me by instinct and not even needing to look to know where to find me. His arms are out before he rounds the corner of the counter, and I move to go into them, knowing he's expecting that.
Instantly, he burrows his face into my hair and pulls me into a lung-crushing hug as he holds me like I'm life itself.
He lets out a little tired groan, close to a sound he'd make stretching, and lessens his constriction after he's satisfied. "I missed you."
"What do you mean?" I say, holding him back and brushing my fingers through his hair, I've noticed it's grown an inch in the last month, but I find it the perfect length, honestly.
"I didn't get to sleep with you next to me last night, and it was terrible," he grumbles into my neck, giving it a soft kiss before finally pulling back enough to look at me.
"Well, not to brag, but Jessie is an amazing cuddler, so..." I tease, lightening the mood, and he grins lazily. I can't help when my thumb brushes over the corner of his mouth, because I miss this little smile.
"She is a good cuddler," he agrees, and then looks between my eyes. "Thank you for taking care of her last night. I was able to rest much better last night knowing she was with you."
"It wasn't an easy night, but we made do. We watched the SpongeBob movie, which I forgot how funny it was, and ate some popcorn with M&M's, which is what I've learned is her preferred comfort snack."
"She got that from me," he grins, stepping back to go to the cupboard to grab a glass for water. "I was beefing with Benny one night at the station because of a stupid disagreement we had out in the field, and I stole a bag of M&M's from his secret stash and added it to the popcorn bucket when we had movie night at the station. He was pissed when he realized where we got them from, but I knew he wouldn't get too mad since Jessie was my accomplice."
"Seriously? Using your niece as an accessory to theft was your game plan?"
"Worked, didn't it?" he winks and fills a glass with water before downing it and filling it again. "Besides, Jessie and I learned a new favorite snack. Win, win."
I laugh, shaking my head as I move the cooler to the side and look to him.
"Your parents are at the hospital. They got there an hour ago."
"How long have I been out?" His gaze turns to the clock on the microwave, but he's squinting through sleep-fogged eyes.
"You were out for a solid four hours. I'm impressed, frankly."
"Shit. I need to get back." I can see the urgency to get his things packed, but before he can leave the kitchen, I raise a hand.
"Don't worry. I already packed your bag and one for me, just in case. I have the cooler packed with some snacks and finger foods from last night that we can peruse as the time passes. Your mom and dad are on shift and sent this." I show him the picture of Jessie and Sam curled up with each other, and I can see the tension in his shoulders leave just as soon as it came. "And Mon said she's going to go get lunch for everyone and is waiting for our order when we're ready, so it'll be there at the hospital by the time we arrive."
With every note of assurance that everything is running smoothly, I watch him look more and more lax with it all.
"And Sam?"
"He's been sleeping for a few hours, according to your mom. Jessie too. Looks like you all needed your rest. I'm just glad you're getting it."
He nods and approaches me by holding my face between his strong, large, calloused hands. "What about you? You've been in the mix of this all too. Do you need sleep?"
I shake my head. "I'm used to running on pure chaos and adrenaline most days. I'll survive until I get back here tonight."
Dean looks at me wearily. "I don't like that. Used to it or not, you need rest too."
"Dean-"
"You'd have given me hell if I refused to come back home earlier. Now let me give you hell," he shakes his head and keeps my face between his hands. "Go lie down. I'll wait until you're ready to head back to the hospital. I trust my parents and everyone else there has it handled."
"I didn't think you could relinquish control that much," I tease lightly, poking his stomach.
He chuckles, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me into his chest. "Yeah, well. If I didn't have the support system that I have, I wouldn't. But... Family doesn't end with blood. And I know Sam's in good hands. Plus," he sighs, pulling back and tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Sam would have my ass on a plaque if I didn't take care of you, too. And as much as I agree with that logic, I like my ass. And so do you. So I'm keeping it."
I laugh and nod. "Wise choice. Would hate to see it gone." I say, wrapping my arms around his waist and giving it a small pat.
"Damn right you would," he grins, leaning down and pressing a soft and gentle kiss to my lips. It lingers for a bit, and I don't mind at all because I can tell we both need the reassurance from each other. "Now," he pecks my lips one more time before squeezing my own ass. "Go to bed. I'm gonna put the perishables away and join you in a minute. Text Mon that I'm forcing you to rest next and that we'll get food on our way when we head back later."
I nod, already yawning like my body knows I'm finally giving it what it needs. "Will you text your mom-"
"Got it, sweetheart. Go to sleep because if I find you still awake when I get back in there, I'll have to wear you out. Respectfully." He grins wickedly as he moves to the cooler and winks at me as he opens it and pulls an ice pack out.
"You're merciless, you know that?" I shake my head as I walk towards the bedroom.
Series Summary: Y/N Carter is a 3rd-grade teacher who's fresh out of a 5-year relationship. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does nowadays, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought. And maybe more connected to her life than she thought, too...
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 5300+
A/N: We may have a bit more chapters than I guessed. Honestly, just going with the flow on this now. Creative flow, come to me!!! XOXOX (9/20/25)
Chapter 29:
The car ride is uneasy and tense. No shocker there.
After Dean emptied the remaining contents of his stomach, I put on some shoes and helped him get into the car and settled before taking the wheel. He hasn't said anything, just stared blankly as if his brain shut down after hearing the words, "There's been an accident."
His hand still manages to find my thigh as if needing some kind of anchor as I take the winding roads to the hospital about 10 minutes away. The only sound in the car is the muted tunes of the radio that still plays. My mind is racing, yes, but I know Dean needs someone to think and make decisions right now, so I focus on one thing at a time.
When we park, I take the keys out of the ignition and unbuckle, turning to get out and meet him on the other side, but his hand squeezes my leg, and I look to him, still staring straight ahead.
"He's in there, isn't he?" Dean's tone is eerily even and calm.
"Who?" I ask, confused by his wording.
He turns to me slowly, and his eyes are ones I don't think I've seen before. Scared, angry, empty... It's then that I realize what he means.
"I'm not sure. But..." I hesitate knowing Bobby told me not to tell him and to let him handle it. If I know anything about Dean, it's that he takes care of what's his. And Dean very much considers his brother and niece his to protect. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was. I'm sure they were all brought here to be checked on." My answer is careful, but not certain, even if I can tell Dean knows the true answer.
His gaze turns to the hospital entrance, where the Emergency Room sign is lit up in the dark evening.
"Dean-"
"Let's go," he says, letting go of me and shoving open the door. His shoulders are rigid and tense as he waits for me to come around before stalking towards the hospital.
I have to quicken my pace with his long strides, and as soon as he enters the waiting room, Bobby's gaze is on him as he waits for him to come through the automatic doors. Cas is standing seconds after the father figure, and they march to him, meeting him before he can get to the chairs.
"Where's Jessie?" Dean's first question shows me he's not too far gone in rage.
Jessie, who had been sitting curled up into Helen's side, had already jumped up and run to Dean, wrapping herself around his waist and squeezing him tighter than I've ever seen her do.
The urgency is the same for him when he all but picks up her smaller frame and craddles her head to his shoulder and buries his face in her hair. I can see a fraction of the fear leave him as he holds her, and I offer my support by laying a soft hand on his shoulder as they stay like that, holding each other tight and close.
They don't move for a while. I can hear Jessie's soft cries into Dean's shoulder, and he soothes her, running a hand from the crown of her head down her hair as he whispers softly, "It's ok... Everything's going to be ok..." I'm not sure if the words are meant for Jessie or him, but if I had to guess, he's speaking them into existence, hoping they'll come true.
Moments pass as he holds her and moves to a chair, keeping her close and settling her in his lap, rocking just enough to settle her, kissing her head and closing his eyes as if she's the ground on this earth after ages without gravity.
Bobby and Cas walk over to me and let them have their moment for a bit longer.
"You ok?" Bobby asks, placing a hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eyes. I'm grateful for the check-in because so far, I've been on autopilot and haven't processed any of this yet.
"I'm ok. You guys?" I nod.
"Could be better," Cas sighs with a sympathetic, sad smile.
I can only imagine the feelings and trauma of seeing two people you care about get t-boned right in front of you, and not knowing if they're ok until you approach the wreckage yourself.
I return a sad pout of my lips and take the few steps forward to hug Cas. He freezes a touch at first, not expecting the gesture, but eventually melts into it and hugs me back.
"Thanks," he mumbles softly into my hair.
I nod after a few moments and pull back. "So..." I look to Dean and Jessie, who are still rocking softly in the chair, holding each other. "What, um..." My brain is struggling to comprehend the situation. What do I even ask first?
"Sam is stable. They pulled him for surgery because they suspected internal bleeding. So far, we haven't heard back from them, but they should be coming out soon to give us an update," Bobby answers, thankfully well-trained and experienced in this kind of ordeal, and knowing exactly what I need to hear. "As for the incident," he sighs, and we all turn where we're facing the chairs ahead.
Helen comes over to Dean and Jessie, squatting in front of them, whispering something that Jessie nods to, and they unwrap from each other. I can hear soft sniffles from the both of them before he kisses her head one more time, and Helen takes her down the hall. He stays in the chair for a moment, running his hand down his face before finally standing and coming to us.
"Give me the rundown," he demands evenly, even when I can tell Jessie wasn't the only one crying.
I've never seen Dean like this. He's always strong and in charge. Sturdy and sure of himself, but right now? Right now, he looks like he's ready to kill someone, and it's his only goal. His eyes are lacking their usual gentleness and replaced by a fury that's slightly unsettling.
"Take a breather, boy." Bobby steps forward and eyes him carefully.
"Rundown," Dean repeats, his body ridged and in need of answers. "What's going on with Sam?"
"He's in surgery," Cas answers, his step just a touch shorter than Bobby's, but I notice they're cutting me off from him, and I wonder...
His jaw clenches more. "Stop giving me surface-level answers. What. Happened."
Bobby takes a breath through his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. "Drunk driver ran a red light. He was going what the cops think was around twenty over the speed limit. Sam reacted in a way that had him taking the majority of the hit, and kept Jessie from getting only a few scratches and a mild case of whiplash. The doctors said it could've been far worse for her if it weren't for his quick thinking. They already cleared her and suggested physical therapy for a few weeks just to make sure there aren't any long-term problems. She's only complained about a headache here and there."
Dean's breaths are shallow, and I watch him carefully around Bobby's shoulder.
"What room is the fucker in?"
And there it is. I actually have met this Dean before. It's the same version I saw in that bar months and months ago when Ketch hurt me. The one that reads, vengeance for the people he loves being wronged and hurt.
"Dean, you know I both know I couldn't tell you even if I did know."
"Do you know?"
"No."
"Bullshit."
"I'm not shitting you even a bit," Bobby sighs like an exhausted babysitter.
"You could find out if you wanted to, and you should want to, Bobby." Dean narrows his eyes with a low tone and moves to turn. "If you won't, I'll figure it out."
Cas is swift in getting in front of him before he can march to the receptionist desk on the other side. "Don't, Dean."
"Move," he grits back, and a part of me worries this will escalate because Cas isn't as strong as Dean.
"You know I can't."
"I can help you in that department," Dean threatens.
I see Cas square his shoulders and nod. "Do what you have to. But know that I'm trying to keep you from doing something that you'll regret later. Something Sam wouldn't want."
"You don't know what Sam would want," Dean snaps at him, stepping up, showing his height advantage. "So don't try and keep me from-"
"Dean!"
A lower southern voice interrupts the building tension. Both heads turn towards the entrance, and we see Benny and Mon coming in. Mon immediately finds me and walks to me while Benny starts strutting to the boys.
"Watch it, brother. We're not the enemies," he cautions, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder that he quickly shrugs off and smacks away. "Hey." Benny's voice is low in correction and just as dangerous as Dean's, pushing him to try him.
Dean takes some deep breaths through his nose and closes his eyes before shoving past Benny to go back to Bobby.
"Sam's condition." His sentences are short, clipped, and to the point.
"Waiting for someone to give us an update. Currently, he's stable in surgery." Bobby replies, hands going into his pockets as he rocks on his heels.
Dean nods and turns to look down the hall that Helen took Jessie down, and then he glances back at me. "Can you..." His tone isn't nearly as heavy and softens just a fraction with me.
He doesn't have to complete the sentence for me to know. "I got it," I nod, knowing they need a minute, and Jessie needs someone too. "Mon," I nod my head, and she nods in agreement before following me as I start to walk towards the hall.
As I pass Dean, he puts his arm out, holding my shoulder and squeezing me to him for a split second, kissing the top of my head like he did Jessie, and mumbling a thank you, before releasing me and shifting back to Bobby, Benny, and Cas.
When Mon and I are out of earshot of the men, she leans over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and squeezing me into her side. "You doing ok? Do you need anything?"
I shake my head and clear my throat of the emotion I can feel climbing up it. "I'm good."
"Are you though?" she says with a small contraction where her hand lies as if to tell me I can be honest.
I stop and turn to her. "It's a lot," I say after a minute. "I'm glad Jessie's ok. Sam's going to be ok, I refuse to think otherwise. But Dean..."
"It's fresh. He's angry and scared," she assures as we walk again.
"Yeah, but this won't just leave him. He's going to let it control-"
"You can't make that call right now," Mon shakes her head, and I'm more than grateful that she's here right now because I need someone just like Dean does. "How he lets this affect him down the line is something you'll have to navigate when the time comes, but in this moment, we can only focus on the here and now. Knowing Sam, though, he won't let him fall down that pit you're worried about. Sam will pull through, and he'll make sure Dean doesn't let this one night harbor on him. And he'll have you to get through that himself."
She stops me just before we turn the corner to where we suspect Jessie to be and turns me so her hands are on both my shoulders as we stare eye to eye. "Deep breath. You're allowed to be scared and anxious right now, but that little girl needs someone to hold her and tell her it'll be ok. And while you have her, I have you. Got it?"
I take a deep breath and then another before nodding. "Ok."
"Atta girl. Now, come on. I got you."
______________
Mon and I sit with Helen and Jess in the small cafe of the hospital, where she has a juice in front of her and an untouched bag of Cheez-its. We stay there for a good 20-30 minutes before Cas comes to tell us they have an update.
With Jessie holding my hand and clinging to my side, we come back to the waiting room where Dean, Bobby, and Benny are talking with a doctor who looks like he just scrubbed out of surgery. Bobby is nodding along, and Benny listens with his arms crossed over his chest and a furrow in his brow. When we come into the room, the boys glance at us, which causes the doctor to turn to us.
He gives us a polite, tight-lipped smile and then turns back to Dean and them. "I'll let you guys decide what you want to share. If you need anything, let us know. The nurse will be out soon to give you the green light once we have him settled in his room."
I come and stand next to Dean, who Jessie then runs to and holds around the waist again. His hand sooths soft patterns on her back reflexively.
"How you feeling, kiddo?" he asks, the softest I've seen him tonight. It seems like the tension from earlier has subsided now that he's more informed, but he still carries strain in his shoulders.
"Head hurts," she mumbles into his torso before looking up with a slight cringe at the motion. "How's dad?"
Dean looks to me and then back at her. "He'll be ok, sweetheart. Just going to take a bit of time to heal. We'll have to be extra gentle with him."
She nods, and I can tell she's still not fully convinced. "Can I see him?"
"They're moving him to his room, Cher," Benny says, gently ruffling her hair some, careful not to hurt her. "Once he's situated and comfy, they'll let us back there a few at a time. But um..." he clears his throat as the harder part of the conversation comes.
Dean takes over and lowers to a squat so he's more at her level. "He's going to look a little beat up. He's hooked up to some monitors to track his heart rate and all those other things the doctors need to know to make sure he's recovering well. But it doesn't change anything about him. Nothing besides needing some time to rest and get better."
Jessie nods with her eyes downcast. "Ok..."
I can only imagine the foreknowledge she has of this whole situation, given it's not new to her. The hospital has already been a marker for death and sadness more times than an eight-year-old girl should ever have to endure.
"You let me know when you're ready, or if you need a minute," Dean says, watching her lovingly and carefully, his demeanor from earlier smoothed out and not as rough around the edges.
Jessie nods again and finally looks up at him. "Can I stay with Y/N for a little bit and you see him first?" she asks, and a part of me knows; the fear of seeing her father in an eerily similar situation to her mother's is too overwhelming, understandably so.
Dean looks vaguely surprised, but hides it well for her sake. "If that's what you want, of course." He nods and runs his hand up and down her arm in a reassuring way. "Let me talk to her real fast before I head back there, ok?" He stands, ruffling her hair in a soft and muted way.
His other hand comes to rest between my shoulder blades, and Jessie bobs her head up and down so subtly, I barely notice. He kisses the top of her head before Benny steps in and guides her to a chair, and he nods towards the side for me to go.
I follow his lead, his warm hand on my back, unmoving as we give ourselves some space for the others not to hear.
"I think she's worried what she'll see," Dean says, his gaze staying on her even as we walk. "She shouldn't be in this situation again. She's too damn young." I can hear the crack of offense in his voice.
"I agree," I sigh out as I look towards her, where she's standing against Benny, and Mon is now taking Dean's old position of squatting down to her level. This isn't, unfortunately, too outside of our 9-5 when it comes to soothing children in emotional deregulation. Though this time it's a bit more drastic and very much personal. "I'll take care of her while you go back." I turn my attention back to him, and he follows suit after one more check on his niece.
"Thank you," he expresses, but the tension in his shoulders doesn't slacken. "I really appreciate you being here."
His mind is somewhere else. I don't need thanks for this. I'd be there for everyone in the room through it all without a thought of hesitation. But I just reassure him that I'm here.
"Hey," I say softly as I step forward and place my hands on either side of his face. "I've got you. Always."
He takes a deep breath in, as if he's been deprived of them all night —and rightfully so. He shakes his head and closes his eyes. His shoulders lower just a touch with the breath he releases, and his arms are around my waist in seconds, pulling me flush to him, and burying his head in my neck.
The action is so sudden and unexpected after watching him lash out at anyone within a 5-foot radius just a bit ago, and it takes me a moment to react. But when I do, I reciprocate the hug, holding him close and holding the back of his head to me in comfort and security.
"I'm freaking out, Y/N," he says into the spot between my neck and shoulder, and his words warm my skin. "I'm fucking terrified." The tremor in his voice shatters me, and I hold tighter.
I gently brush his hair along his neck and nod into his shoulder in understanding. "I know... I know."
There's silence as he just holds me like a damn anchor on a boat in the night, still rocking in a shipwreck. His chest rises and falls in deep breaths as he takes what he needs, and I soothe him how I can by just holding him and letting him take all the time he needs.
He relaxes enough after a few minutes to pull back to look at me, but he still holds me pressed chest to chest.
"I know he'll be ok. But what could have been a much worse case scenario almost happened tonight. And I- I couldn't- If he had-I wouldn't be able to..." he begins to stutter, and I can feel the early onslaught of a broken record start of a panic attack queue up like a needle drop.
"Hey, hey," I say, hands shifting from behind his neck back to his cheeks to focus his gaze on me. "What could have happened didn't. And we have to focus on the fact of how fucking lucky we are not to be facing that reality right now. You understand?"
He looks back and forth between my eyes and eventually nods as if breathing in that reminder and letting it pull him out of the hole he's falling down.
"Jessie is alive and not in a hospital bed because your brother is a smart and quick-thinking man. I don't know what the doctor said to you before we came back in here, but considering you were ready for Jessie to see him already, I know he's in better shape than we could have hoped for."
He nods, his chest rising and falling with another deep breath, as he looks down between us. "They said he'll be ok after some nightly monitoring. He's lucky that the internal bleeding was minimal and quickly patched up." He informs me, and I take a breath of my own in relief. "The door was bent in and cut into his side, but thanks to Cas's paramedic background, it was staunched enough to get him into surgery without issues."
"Good. That's good." I run my finger over the soft cheekbone below his eye, specks of freckles you can only see close up are dulled in the fluorescent waiting room lights, and I smile softly. "I'm here, ok. And I'm not going to a single place, but by your side. I'll take care of Jessie. You go see your brother. You need it."
Dean eventually nods in agreement and looks back to Jessie, still attached to me. "She's such a strong little girl. In ways she shouldn't have learned to be this early... If not ever."
I look back with him and rest my head on his chest. "She's got two of the strongest role models to influence her in how she handles life's biggest turns."
Dean scoffs, a sad and tired chuckle at that. "Maybe a bit too strong-headed and stubborn role models." He looks back down at me. "Good thing we have you to level it out."
"Me? Level it out?" I look back at him with a grin.
"You're right. You add to the density." He teases, and I'm glad to see some lightness back in his eyes.
"You tend to surround yourself with some pretty similar people," I lean up, kissing his nose affectionately. "Now go see your brother. I'll take care of Jessie."
He gives me one more tight hug as if needing the extra support it exudes, and breaks off to check on Sam while I go sit with Jessie, who's now sitting in a chair between Benny and Mon.
When I approach again, she looks up and walks to me, throwing her face back against my torso and holding me close- like Uncle, like niece.
"Hey, Wonder Woman," I tease lightly, knowing she needs some strength right now. "Feeling any more headaches?" I ask, my hand lying on the back of her head and holding her to me as I hug her from my angle.
"The water helped," she answered, into my stomach. "But it's ok."
I hum and guide her to a seat that's a bit wider for different patients, but we share it since there are only two other people in the waiting room, far off on the other side of the space.
"Ok. Just tell us if that changes. The doctors want to make sure you heal perfectly, and we can't fix anything we don't know is an issue." I know it's important to remind her, even if it's a sucky thing to think about.
"I know," she says, eyes looking into her lap where her hands lay fidgeting. "
I watch her for a moment, giving her a chance to speak up if she wants. Anything at this point would make me feel better because I'm not used to seeing this happy, sweet girl so down.
"Whatcha thinking, sister?" I hum softly, my hand moving to brush hair out of her face.
She shrugs just like any eight-year-old does when questioned on an uncomfortable topic. "Nothing."
I give her a minute to clarify what nothing is, but she doesn't, so I poke her knee. "Want to try again?" My question is suggestive and not at all pushy. She can either know I'm not leaving as long as she needs me, or take her time and open up later. It's up to her.
She pauses long enough; I think she'll take the second route, but eventually says, "I don't want to see him when he's hurt."
My head shifts in understanding, subtly nodding. "That's really an upsetting and possibly scary thing to see, and therefore, rightfully understandable."
She looks up at me, and her eyes look relieved at my answer. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," I say, pulling a leg under me and leaning back to look at her better. "I'd feel the same things in your situation."
She looks at me with a small furrow in her brow. "So it's not a chicken thing to do?"
"Jessie," I say with a slightly stern, yet still loving, tone as I look at her. She knows the answer to that kind of question, so I let her come to the conclusion herself.
She deflates at the answer she internally knows and nods. "Ok."
I could get more into it with her, but the situation is heavy enough. No need to verbalize the reality we're in.
"When you're ready, you tell us. How you want to do it is all up to you," I assure, nudging her knee with mine. "If you want to go in alone, done. If you want your uncle Dean in there, he won't hesitate. If you want-"
"I want to go with Uncle Dean. W-When he says it's a good time to," she interrupts, and the decision seems to ease one less worry on her mind.
"I trust Dean will have a good sense of that. Good choice," I nod and give her a soft and encouraging smile. "But if there is one thing Jessie, you don't have to be strong right now. You've got a whole family to be the pillars for you in this situation. You just let us know what you need."
She takes a deep breath and nods at me when she finally looks up. "Thank you."
I pull her into a hug, and we hold each other for a bit before Dean eventually comes back out and looks a touch choked up, but holding it together as he smiles softly at Jessie and comes to squat in front of us, one hand grabbing mine and the other landing on Jessie's knee. "There's my girls."
"Is he ok?" Jessie is quick to ask, and I can see the urgency in her eyes.
The doctors could have come in here, saying he'd be out and heading back home in the next few hours, and the little girl wouldn't have believed them until Dean assured her they were right. And right now, she's looking for that relief.
"He's a Winchester," Dean ruffles her hair in an attempt to lighten the mood. "What do you think?"
It seems to work, and the chestnut-haired girl scrunches and smiles just enough for him.
"Is he awake?" she asks next, sitting up more.
"He's a bit doped up on some of the meds from after the surgery, but the doctors said he'll probably be up in the middle of the night. We'll have to wait until the morning to see him a bit more normal," he sighs as if not happy with the answer himself.
"But he'll be ok in the morning?"
"As ok as your dad is," Dean teases.
She lights up some more at that. "Can we stay here? Until the morning?"
Dean then shifts his gaze to me for a minute, and I can read the apology in it. Though I'm not sure what for.
"Actually, that's what I needed to talk to you about, Jay-bird." He stands and moves to the seat next to her and turns his body to face her as he leans over the armrest between them. "If it's ok with you, I think it's best that Y/N takes you to our place tonight, and you guys get some rest and come back in the morning. I'll stay here with your dad to keep an eye on him and let you know if anything changes. But he'll want to see you rested when you come back tomorrow."
He looks to me for a moment as if to silently ask if that was ok, and I nod with a look that shows I'd be surprised if he didn't ask.
Jessie looks down the hall that leads to her dad's room and then back to Dean in consideration. "What if something happens?"
"I'll let you know if anything happens, and Y/N and you can drive back up, ok? I won't keep you away." He sooths her hair on the back of her head and repeats the motion a few times. "Sound like a plan, Stan?"
I admire Dean's ability to play cool, reassuring, and level-headed for her, even though I'm sure he's freeking out internally. But I continue to stay the pillar of control and hope when he's crumbling inside.
"Ok. I'd like to have a sleepover tonight," she says, and I lean closer, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. "Can I..." she turns to look up at me. "Can I sleep in your bed with you?" she asks me, and I almost melt at the nerves and worry in her eyes.
I look to Dean, and he looks just as crushed by her vulnerability. He looks at me, silently asking me to say yes, but there's no hesitation.
"For sure. I can't sleep in that big bed all by myself. I'll need some comfort too," I pull her fully into my side at that and squeeze her tight.
Dean smiles soflty at me and mouths another, "Thank you," before pulling my head to his lips while holding the back of my neck and then doing the same to Jessie before standing. "Ok, you two, head on home and sleep. It's getting late, and it's been a long evening."
We rise slowly, and Jessie gives Dean a hug before returning to my side. He goes and updates Benny, Bobby, and Helen while I talk to Mon.
We decided to leave the car Dean and I came in so he has a one here, and Benny and Mon would drop us off back at home. I also know that Dean suggested it because he was terrified of us being on the road after tonight, and he'd feel better knowing Benny would be getting us safely back to our house.
"I'll get Jessie settled in the car. We'll meet you out there." Mon guides Jessie to the exit after they've said their goodbyes, and Benny and Dean share a brotherly hug off to the side, silent promises of keeping his girls safe while he stays back.
When we head to the car, Dean walks out with me, ushers us into the backseat, and lowers my window before shutting the door and leaning into the opening.
"Text me as soon as you get home," he tells me, looking out at the street like it's an assault rifle waiting to be triggered after how it's faired us tonight. "And please," he turns back to me. "Be safe. Update me."
"I promise. Track my location if it makes you feel better. We'll be tucked into bed safe and sound before you know it. Plus, I've already stocked our spare room with spare clothes and things for Jessie for sleepovers, so no stops along the way to drag out the night."
He smiles as if that just took a huge weight off his chest and leans forward, kissing the top of my head for a long moment. "As always, I'm the luckiest son of a bitch to exist."
"That you are," I grin as the car starts. "I'll text you when I'm headed back over in the morning. Let me know if you need anything. Coffee, donuts, aspirin for the crick in your neck you're about to have."
He grins softly at that and nods. "Thank you. I know you know, but you make my life better."
"Figured it's the least I can do when you do the same for everyone around you," I wink.
He chuckles, and I'm glad I can pull something light out of him once tonight. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."
He pinches my chin in a loving way and nods to Jessie. "Love ya, kiddo."
"Love you too, Uncle Dean." She's already yawning and curled into my side.
"Benny," he nods towards the front seat where Benny is behind the wheel.
Benny nods back, and there's a promise there. "Always."
And with that, we leave the hospital parking lot, the bright ER sign's red light growing into a speck in the night.
Series Summary: Y/N is a 3rd grade teacher who had a really bad breakup. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does these days, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought.
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 4600+
A/N: Well, shit... Apparently, I can't let things be too happy for too long. Sorry, not sorry. Told ya I was writing a completely different book🫣 XOXOX (9/10/25)
Chapter 28:
Today was the day. We celebrate the new house by sharing it with our friends.
Could there be more done around the house, decorations-wise and design-wise? Sure, but I knew it wasn't going to just come together in three short months. Decorations would come as time does, and house projects would continue to pop up as the years pass. But for now, I'm happy with what we have to present to our friends and family.
Last night, my parents came by and had dinner with us and stayed for a bit before driving back home. It was an evening I'll remember fondly as my dad and Dean joked and chatted about Marvel movies while also sharing their love for Star Wars and other nerdy pop culture references. My mom and I spent the time going through the house and bouncing ideas off each other for future projects and efficient storage. I learned all the tricks of the trade I know from her.
My sister wasn't able to come due to some last-minute emergency that came up with my brother-in-law, but they promised to visit the next chance they got.
I didn't plan on leaving this house anytime soon. Now that Dean was fully moved out of his apartment, the lease was finished, and I managed to sublet my apartment for the last four months of the lease.
We took advantage of weekends and random days off to move in and organize the place to our liking, and I can confidently say, I'm happy with it. I'm excited to share it with those I care about and have a place of our own.
Mel and Mon had volunteered to come over early for the housewarming barbecue we invited all our friends to this Saturday. Mel was currently making a non-alcoholic punch with sherbert and pineapple juice, while Mon was garnishing the alcoholic cocktail glasses she insisted on making. I was putting on an oven mitt as I moved to put in some stuffed mushrooms and some of those smashed potatoes I've grown addicted to as of late.
"How much longer until everyone arrives?" Mon asks, adjusting her craft.
"Invite said six and it's 5:15," Mel noted. "Still have some time, but I think I heard Dean mention something about Benny and Cas being here soon to help with the outdoor portion of the party."
"Speaking of the boys..." I start with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't you start it," Mon says without even looking my way. "We're only three dates in and I'm still feeling the man out."
"That's what it looked like the other night when he dropped you off at my place and I got a glimpse of what exactly 'feeling the man out' meant," Mel teases, and Mon swats her with a hand towel. "Ow! Hey, you get to call it like you see it. I should too!"
"You should," I assure Mel as I squeeze her shoulder. "Mon, help me set the chips and condiments up on the table." Mon rolls her eyes at being tormented, but listens anyway.
"Where's Dean and Sam?" Mel asks, stirring her ingredients in a large bowl.
"They ran out to get propane for the grill. Should be back any minute," I shrug, looking towards the doorway for a moment. And just then, the front door opens and I hear more than two manly voices laughing and making their way in. "I'm going to assume that's the crew." I chuckle, taking the mitts off and throwing them next to the stove.
Jessie's the first one running through the arched doorway from the hall to the kitchen, and she's holding a bag of candy and a gift bag.
"Hey, pretty girl," I grin widely as she runs up to me and presents the bag proudly. "What's this?"
"Dad and I got it for you," she grins widely as I take and place it on the counter. "It's a housewarming gift."
"That so?" I chuckle just as Dean and Sam walk through the threshold with Cas and Benny close behind. "Should I open it later or-"
"Open it now!" She jumps in excitement, putting her candy on the counter so she can climb the barstool. As soon as she's seated, she twists left and right on the spinning seat top and tears open her bag of peach rings as she waits eagerly for me to open it.
Dean comes to my side, making sure to ruffle Jessie's hair on the way, and grips the back of my neck, giving it a loving squeeze before nodding for me to open the polkadotted bag.
"She squealed and told me what's in it already."
"Would the bag of candy by chance have anything to do with enticing her to tell you?" I chuckle, pulling the tissue paper out.
"There was bribery happening behind my back at the store," Sam confirms, walking behind Jessie and ruffling her hair again after she just smoothed it over. She groans in annoyance at the two men in her life, but brushes it off to watch my reaction as I unpack the present.
I can feel the room watching as they all continue to work on their little tasks. Benny walks over to Mon and smiles like a nervous yet excited fool, and Cas, being the gentleman he is, throws away the trash Mel had.
I pull out a dozen packs of seeds: flowers, vegetables, fruits, and gourds, along with some gloves and a floral-printed gardening apron.
"It's for when we work on the garden! Dad got me a matching set," she points to the gardening attire.
I smile widely. "I love it. We're going to look extremely chic covered in dirt," I chuckle, moving to pull her into a side hug.
"There's more!" she says, squished into my side.
"More?"
"Yeah, at the bottom of the bag."
Dean pulls some more tissue out of the bag and pulls out a frame. He looks surprised by it, possibly not being let in on this part of the gift, and grins endearingly before turning it around to show me.
My heart drops, and a bout of pride and love soars through me. Inside the frame is a picture of Dean, Sam, Jessie, and me at one of her soccer games from her summer club. It's a casual picture. One where Dean and I were sitting in lawn chairs and Jessie was lying across our laps while Sam stood behind us, hugging us with his wide wingspan.
I had forgotten that the picture had even been taken. And to make it even more special, there was a drawing around it. As if someone had printed the image off, Jessie drew a big heart around the four of us and wrote at the bottom, The Winchester Bunch in her fourth-grade scribble.
My lip pouts in love and appreciation.
"Jess, this is..." I say, looking at it closely and running my finger over the words.
"The best," Dean says, coming over and pressing a big wet kiss to her forehead. "Hit it on the head, kiddo."
"It was all her idea," Sam grins proudly, patting his daughter's head and getting a squeeze on the shoulder from Dean.
"Well, it was the best idea ever," I smile, holding back the happy tears. "Want to help me find a place for it? I think there's a vacant spot on the mantle that'd be perfect."
Jessie beams excitedly and jumps down, after shoving a peach ring in her mouth, and holds my hand as we move to the living room.
The rest of the crew stays in the kitchen, and I hear the back door open as the guys move to start getting the grill up and running and set up camp in the backyard.
"I think here's a good spot," I say, moving a decorative vase over a touch so I can angle the frame by it. "What do you think?"
"I like it," Jessie agrees. As I'm adjusting it, she adds, "When do you think Uncle Dean and you are going to get married?"
I shouldn't be surprised by the question. It's nothing out of the ordinary for an eight-year-old to blurt out, especially when Dean and I have been together for a year now and we're literally hosting a housewarming party for our first place together.
"Um, I'm not sure, Jay." I shrug as I step back to look at the frame. "He's been really patient with me on that front. But a ring or not, I love him just the same. I think we're just waiting for the right time."
She hums as if considering my thought process. "Well, if you love him the same, then why not put a ring on your finger? Don't you want to wear a pretty ballgown and have a wedding?"
Ah, the simplicity of a child's mind.
"That'll for sure be fun when the time comes, but for now, we're just enjoying our time together," I chuckle, pulling her back to my front and resting my hands on her shoulders as I look ahead at the decorated mantle. "You know, I think that was the finishing touch I needed for this space."
"It fits really well," she agrees.
"Really, really well," I nod.
"I have a question," she says, turning and looking up at me with curiosity.
"Always," I chuckle, having loved her curious mind since the day she walked into my classroom at meet the teacher. "Hit me."
"When you two do get married, can I be your maid of honor?"
I laugh. "Usually, that goes to someone a touch older since they tend to plan a lot of the partying and details. You sure you want that kind of task?"
"Oh, yeah," she responds with a look that reminds me of Dean when he's fully convinced he's got something handled. "I've played wedding planner on my Nintendo DS since I was in second grade. I'm practically a professional."
I can't help the chuckle that follows as I start guiding her back to the kitchen. "Well, how about this? Help me host this party a bit, and I'll take it as your audition for maid of honor. How's that sound?"
"Yes!" she fists her hand and pumps back. "Ok. Got it. What do you need help with?"
As we round the corner, Dean sticks his head inside and asks, "Hey, Y/N/N. Can you send out the tray of hot dogs and burgers? They're in the fridge already prepped."
I nod, and he heads back out. I turn to the fridge and pull out the plastic tray. "First job is to go give this to your uncle and make sure he doesn't burn down the place."
She takes the trays carefully and nods. "On it. And good thing we're going to have a whole bunch of firefighters around in case he does."
I laugh in agreement as she carefully watches her steps as she heads out the back door.
"God, I love that kid," Mon says, coming to my side. "I'll personally fight the counselors if they don't put her in my pod next year."
"I'll fight them with you," I chuckle, going to check on the oven goods. "Hell, I'm pretty sure Dean will too, considering he knows all the drama with Ms. Snider."
Ever since the first day back, troubles, anytime I bring up the counselor that made it hell for me and a load of the other teachers, he's been very adamant on finding reasons to have her fired. All unrealistic reasons and more so petty, but it's become a running joke that he has such disdain for a woman he's never met.
"What was Benny saying to you?" I ask, changing the subject.
Mon isn't one to blush, but I can tell she's flustered and fawning over the southern charmer, even if she puts on a nonchalant or tough act when he's mentioned.
"Eh, nothing really. Just asked if I wanted to go grab some dessert after this," she waves off, going to busy herself with the chip bags that are already organized and set up.
"You're going, right?" Mel asked, moving to one of the barstools and fanning out the napkins in front of her.
"It's just dessert. It's not a big deal," Mon tries to brush off again.
"It doesn't have to be a big deal for you to be excited, you know?" I add in.
"I know."
"Ok, so why are you trying to act all cool and indifferent about it all? You almost seem like you're just going because you're bored and you have nothing better to do."
"I'm not. I am... excited." Her tone on the word seems more nervous than excited, and I realize then.
"You like him." She looks at me, and Mel looks too with a grin. "And that scares you."
Mon scoffs and waves me off again. "Me? Scared of a man who has feelings for me? Please. It's him who should be nervous."
"He is. Because he likes you so much."
"Ok and?"
I sigh as Mel and I's words don't seem to be breaking the wall we're trying to crack.
"Mon, stop acting tough for one second. Just," I sigh, trying to think of the right word.
"Let him in. Let him see the vulnerable side of you, even if you're not sure of it. If you're worried about him not liking it, that's not your problem. It's a him problem if he doesn't." Mel finishes for me.
"It's true. The right man will love all sides of you. Not just the one that caught his attention," I agree, leaning on the other side of the counter after setting a timer for the food one more time.
Mel and I both know Monique's tough act is a protective front. She acts rigid and unmovable because she can be, but that's not all to the woman. She's had to be formidable most of her life because of her upbringing, and it has left a lasting impact on her. She struggles with vulnerability, as it's a side she's never been prone to showing most people. But if you ask me (and Mel), it's because she's lived with that stubborn shield up more than not. And so far, that's what Benny has shown interest in, but knowing Benny... He's going to fall even harder once she opens up and gives him a glimpse of the softer, more loving side of herself. A side that Mel and I have seen for ourselves and appreciate and love because it's authentic. She loves big, and she deserves to share that with someone outside of our little family we've created. Someone who can show it to her in their own way.
I can see the gears turning in Mon's head, and I know she's considering it. I know the part of her that wants to let her feminine side free and allows someone else to take care of her for once. To push the independence down and find comfort and support in another.
"I'll work on it more," she assures, and I believe her. "For now, let's focus on you tonight. Your guests will be here soon, and I want to make sure I audition well for my maid of honor role since Jessie is apparently my competition."
"Hey, what about me?" Mel chimes in, knowing she's trying to move the conversation on.
"Oh, hush, you and I both know you're party planning and detail-oriented self is safe in making the bridal party." Mon laughs as she takes a cocktail she prepared earlier and makes it her own.
__________
Everyone showed up at different times, but eventually our backyard was full of friends and family, eating burgers and hot dogs, playing cornhole and giant Jenga, and catching up as if we were all long-time friends seeing each other after a decade.
I noticed Benny had stayed close to Mon, carefully resting an arm around her waist or shoulders in a 'testing the waters' kind of way. And I also noticed Mon allowing it and even leaning in some to him. The view made me smile because it's not often I see Mon relinquish some control, and it seemed to be natural when it came to Benny.
Dean was seconds from teasing the two, but I threw an elbow into his gut before he could get the words out, which ended in a threat that I'd be paying for that later tonight. I only rolled my eyes and said back, "Promise?"
That seemed to have his hold on me tighten and almost claw me back to his side when I walked over to Helen and her daughter, Jo, right after. Speaking of the colleague and her mom, who was now a good friend of mine, Jo brought her baby to the cookout with her husband. The little guy seemed to like my hair quite a bit, as evidenced by Jo's constant efforts to untangle it from the tight grip of the almost one-year-old when I held him.
Overall, the night was one to remember. Bets were made, food was had, drinks were drunk, tours were given, gifts were granted, and the number of pictures on my phone would make me buy more storage soon.
The last bit of the crew left about 10 minutes ago. Jessie was fast asleep in Sam's arms as he put her in the backseat. Mon and Benny left together, leaving Mon's car in the street out front. Mel helped to clean up, and Cas stayed back to do the same. Bobby and his wife handed Dean an envelope before heading out, saying to open it later tonight. And the recently lively and bustling environment that had filled our house was now a calm and satisfied space.
"Bobby said he expects more station bonfires to be held over here, now that we have the most accommodating space besides him and Helen," Dean says as he washes the last remaining dishes in the sink while I put away the chips and dips.
"Seems you'll need to get to work on a fire pit then, huh?"
"Already got the blueprints mapped out. I also found one on Amazon that looks like the Death Star," he replies excitedly, putting the cleaned wine glass on the drying rack. "Your dad said he'd go halfies with me if we shared custody."
I chuckle while putting the dips in the fridge. "Yeah, cause that would make sense to do across state borders."
"Hey, it'd be worth it," Dean points a soapy finger at me before turning back to his chore. "Speaking of, we'll need to host again so your parents can meet the crew. I have a feeling Sam and your dad would get along on the lawyer side of things since your dad used to be an attorney."
"He was a corporate attorney. Nothing too exciting with that other than contract specifics. It's why he left and started working at my mom's district office."
"Eh, all lawyers are the same in my head," he says, grabbing a towel and wiping his hands off after the last dish.
"Don't tell Sam or my dad that. You'll be in for a lecture." I laugh as I shut the fridge and walk over to him, where he opens his arms in a silent invitation, which I take.
"It was a good night," he says into my hair, pulling me into a bear hug and resting his lips on the top of my head.
"It was," I agree, nodding as I burrow my face into his chest. "I'm excited for more like it."
"Me too." He kisses my head before pulling me back enough to look at me. "I'll lock up if you want to go ahead and get ready for bed. You still up for going to the farmer's market tomorrow with Jessie?"
I nod with a yawn. "More than ready."
"One last thing," he says, pulling me back to him before I can slip away. "Helen sent me a picture." He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opens the text, and turns the screen for me to see. "Adorable."
I look at the picture taken in our backyard with Jo's little boy holding a chunk of my hair in his iron fist, and both of us leaning back from where I'm holding him at my waist as we grin at each other.
I chuckle and point at it. "Send that to me, please."
"Want to know what Helen's text said?" he smirks as if it's something interesting.
"Do I?" I counter with a small nervous laugh.
"Said she's excited to see the same pictures in a few years when we have our own," he shares, lighting up fondly at the idea. "I told her I'm excited for that chapter myself."
I blush at the idea of kids with Dean. Not a nervous, unsure blush, but the idea that it's attainable and it... Doesn't scare me.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he smiles, grabbing both sides of my face as he pulls me back to him to press a kiss to my forehead. "Now go get changed. We can practice our baby-making skills tonight to work out the kinks when we are ready." He pushes me gently towards the doorway, giving me a soft pat to the butt in encouragement.
I laugh, shuffling towards the hallway. "Yeah, because we're so out of practice."
"Practice makes perfect, Sweetheart."
"So you say... All the time." I wave him off as I leave and head to our room.
I'm only in there for a short 5 minutes or so when Dean comes in.
"Hey, for the farmers' market tomorrow. Do we want to pick Jessie up early and let Sam sleep in and meet us for breakfast after, or-" I stop drying off my face from washing it when I see Dean pale as a ghost behind me with his phone to his ear. Someone's talking on the other end, but he looks like he's in shock. "Dean?" I ask, turning and putting the washcloth on the counter. "What's-"
"Dean? Hey, listen to me, son," I hear on the other end, and notice he's frozen in place.
Carefully, I approach and move my hand to where he's holding the phone. "Hey, let me see," I coax, but he just looks at me with obvious shock and terror. I manage to get the phone out of his grip without issue and realize Bobby is on the other end, still trying to get Dean's attention.
"Bobby?" I ask, putting it to my ear, and placing my free hand on Dean's shoulder, where he's still standing in a rigid stance.
"Y/N? Hey, thank god," he mumbles on the other end before taking a breath. "There's been an accident."
My heart drops at that. "A-An accident?" I stutter, my heart racing, but I quickly realize I need to keep it together for Dean. "Who-? Where?"
"Sam and Jessie," he says somberly. "Don't worry. They're going to be fine, but our station just reported a car wreck about a mile from their house. It looks like..." he clears his throat of emotions climbing up them. "Drunk driver. From the wreck details, my crew and the cops are gathering, Sam reacted in a way that kept them alive. Any other turn or response could have been..." he hesitates, obviously not wanting to think of the other side of the coin for this situation.
"Ok," I say, responding as evenly as I can. "We can head to the hospital, but," I look to Dean, who's looking at me in fear and terror. "You said they're ok? No one's in critical condition?" I ask it knowing Dean needs that confirmation, even if Bobby already told him.
"Sam got the brute end of it. Turned the car to take the majority of the t-bone. But he's stable, just unconscious. I'm currently here with Helen and a few of the other crew who were close when it happened. By some god-given luck, Cas was behind them at the light and watched it all and was first on the scene. He's giving a statement right now. They're loading Sammy in the ambulance as we speak."
"And Jessie?" I ask, still looking at Dean as my hand comes up and rests on his chest, as if trying to calm the racing heartbeat under it.
"She's got a few scratches. Will probably be sore as hell for the next few days, but she's fine. Just scared and worried for her dad," he sighs as if his own heart is tearing in two. "Helen and I are going to drive my car and her to the hospital behind the ambulance, and they're going to finish her check-up there since the other paramedic cleared her."
"Ok, ok," I nod, taking charge and keeping a level head. Bonus to being surrounded by the constant chaos of my job. Dean, on the other hand... This chaos is too close to home for him, and I can see the color blanching in his face. "Dean, they're ok. They're going to be ok." I try to assure, but I know it's the equivalent of talking to a wall right now.
His gaze finally falters from me as his chest heaves and he steps aside to run to the toilet. It takes all but five seconds, and he's heaving his guts out into the ceramic bowl. I cringe lightly at the sound, and continue talking to Bobby as I move and run a soothing hand over his back while he empties his stomach.
"We'll be there as soon as possible. Can you send me any updates on their conditions and rooms if they come up?" I ask.
"Helen said she'd text you while I drive. We'll be at the hospital in about 5 minutes. See you two there," he assures.
"Got it. Thank you."
"And Y/N," he adds before I hang up. I pause, and he clears his throat before adding. "The driver? They're bringing him there, too. He's in better condition than Sam, which means..." I know what that means. "Don't let Dean know. I'll talk to him about it when the time is right."
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Got it." My voice cracks ever so slightly, and I squeeze Dean's shoulder even if he doesn't realize why. "We'll see you soon."
Hello friends! It's been ages since I've done an update for taglist, so figured the 3-day weekend was the perfect time to fix that!
I have five tag lists:
My Lovlies: Everything I post
Marvel: Steve & Bucky Fics
Bucky Barnes
Steve Rogers
Dean Winchester
Masterlist Tags: If I start a new series, I'll have a tag list specific to that series only. Please comment on the master list for that storyline, or send me a message, and I'll get you set up.
If I've tagged you below, you're already on my list and I'll keep you there unless you say otherwise! My feelings will not be hurt if you want to be removed. I completely understand.
HOWEVER: If you want to be added to or swapped in the tag list, please COMMENT ON THIS POST! It keeps things organized in one post for me to go back and add you all.
Just explain what taglist you're on and if you want to swap to another, or if you want to be added to one, just specify which one. Love you all!!! XOXOXOX
Series Summary: Y/N is a 3rd grade teacher who had a really bad breakup. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does these days, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets and later has a one-night stand with may be harder to get rid of than she thought.
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 3200+
A/N: Sooooo, I may or may not be creating a complete book at this point🤭 Kinda sorta maybe not. Anyway, I've extended this story far further than I planned, and I think I have at LEAST five more chapters to come. I do have plans for the next two, just need to sit down and write them. Until then, stay tuned, and all your comments and interactions help me a ton!! XOXOX (8/30/25)
Chapter 27:
I wanted to crash in bed and ask for a foot massage after the day I had.
A few of our students had schedules swapped in the middle of the day, and then again at the end of the day. Apparently, there were some human errors in creating classroom rosters, and I had to reset procedures three times different today.
On top of that, the student in need of accommodations for his environment was now on track to get the paperwork and help he needed, but it wouldn't happen overnight. I'd likely have him in my class for one more week before he was swapped to a self-contained room, which would wholly benefit him more. Until then, I'd had to adjust as we went.
Those were the big hitters, but there were a lot of micro-issues that popped up in between. So Dean coming to drop off lunch mid-day was an invaluable boost to finish the rest of the day.
While I was packing up my things for the day, making sure to leave right after car duty, I got a text from Dean to change into pajamas and bring clothes for tomorrow, and then meet him at the new house.
I hop into The Thing once I had my overnight bag packed, slightly confused, considering we had no furniture at the new place and just a lot of boxes we've dropped off here and there.
When I pull into the driveway, I still find myself in awe that this place is my house. Ours. It wasn't a rental. It wasn't something temporary. It was ours. A house meant to be made into a home by our means. I hope I never lose the feeling of excitement seeing it.
I grab my duffel bag from the backseat and make my way into the house. When I opened the front door, a few more boxes than we had before littered the living room, and I put my keys on the entry table we'd moved in last weekend, along with other nonessential furniture.
"Dean?" I shout out and put my duffle down by the table, as well as tilt my head side to side in a stretch. "You inside?" I ask, knowing he's been very interested in the backyard fencing since it's a doable project for the moment.
"Back here!" he shouts from the hall that leads back to the master bedroom. I hear his feet on the hardwood floor before I get a chance to follow his voice. He grins when he sees me and puts his arms out as he approaches me. "How come you didn't say, 'Honey, I'm home'? It's perfect comedic timing."
He engulfs me in a tight bear hug I needed, and sways me lightly side to side, resting his chin on my head.
"Because you say it for both of us every time you come in the house," I chuckle into his chest.
"Yeah, because we have the setup for it now." He presses a kiss to my head before pulling back to look down on me. "How was the rest of your day?" I don't answer; instead, I just blink at him with an exhausted look. "Yeah, figured. But good though, right? Even if tiring?"
"It had its moments," I nod. "But I'm not kidding when I say it was probably one of the more stressful first days I've had in my career."
"I'm sorry, baby," he says, soothing down my hair.
"I'll survive." I nod, falling forward and pressing my forehead to his chest. "Can you explain to me why you brought us here, though? I'm really confused, considering we don't even have much furniture outside of a dining room table and accent chairs."
"Come on." He places a hand on my back, guiding me towards the master bedroom. "Benny and Cas helped me out with a few things today that I think you'll enjoy." I raise a brow, not exactly sure what he's up to, but as we approach the door, he puts his hands over my eyes from behind. "Don't peek until I say so."
"Sir, yes, sir," I chuckle. With my eyes closed, I hear him move to open the door, and he ushers me in, careful not to remove his hand from my eyes.
"Ok, three... two... one." He moves his hands, and I blink away the blur.
In front of me is his king-sized bed set up with the headboard we decided on together and a new fluffy comforter. Two nightstands from my house are on either side, already supplied with lamps, and a candle on what I assume is my side. In front of the bed is a tall, semi-wide dresser from storage I've had for years, but never had the room to use in my apartment after I moved out from Arthur's and my place.
Above the dresser, lightly decorated with some picture frames with us, and a vase of the flowers he bought me today, he had mounted the TV that used to be in his living room.
It was simple and obviously not done, but the point of making the room semi-complete made it feel more like a home by the second.
I smile, turning in my spot as I take in the kind act of service. "Is this why you made me pack an overnight bag?"
"I figured we could christen the place," he grins with a wiggle of his eyebrows as he comes back to me and wraps his arms around my waist from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder. "Obviously, you're the interior designer. But I know a thing or two about how to move my hips for the christening part."
I chuckle and pinch his hand that's around me. "Charming."
He laughs and squeezes my waist. "You know it." He kisses my shoulder and straightens. "I bought stuff to make dinner tonight. I'm going to go get started on that if you want to lie down for a bit, and I'll let you know when it's ready."
I let out a tired sigh, thankful that I'm not having to do anything coming home from a long day, and Dean is glad to aid in that. It's something I'm not used to in living alone, and even when I lived with Arthur, he always complained about being tired himself and played the convincing role of man-child. Mind you, his job was marketing to people while drinking beers and shooting the shit, nowhere near the hyperdependence that occurs in a 3rd-grade classroom.
"You're amazing and I love you," I sigh, shuffling to the bed and going to crash on the nice, fluffy, and freshly cleaned comforter.
I hear Dean chuckle as he moves to he doorway. "Take a powernap, Sweetheart. I'll be in the other room, and I put a bell on the end table so you can call for me."
My head lifts from my lazy face plant into the sheets just enough to notice the little gold metallic bell on the nightstand, and I grin.
"You think of everything, huh?"
"So you don't have to, yeah."
I hear his sock-clad feet walk towards the kitchen. The vintage wood floor creaks just a touch from years of use and traffic. These were the sounds I'd learn to call home. Our home.
I move to get comfortable on the bed, snuggling up in the middle of it and barricading myself around the perfectly fluffed pillows. I melt almost instantly in both contentment and peace. Peace that I didn't know was accessible on this planet, or in this lifetime.
It's then that I think about how Dean is the kind of man you dream of. The one that doesn't need you to tell him what you need and want, and executes it entirely on his own. And the way he's doing that tonight, he's giving me a taste of what our life will look like soon enough—moved into the house, living in it, and creating our story further down the line.
And god. I didn't even realize it was exactly what I needed after today. The domesticness of it all. The consideration. The want to take care of me. And knowing all those things were freely given by Dean had me drifting into a soft sleep.
I woke up about thirty minutes later, feeling like I was out for two hours. It's rare to catch a nap like that and not the other way around, but things seem to be going my way currently, so I don't question it.
I stretch, tempted to curl back into the comforter and steal all the minutes I can, but then I smell the waft of dinner coming through the halls to the bedroom.
I throw my legs over the edge and stretch out my limbs before padding down the hall, arms wrapped around my middle and shoulders slightly hunched in the chill of the air conditioning. When I turn into the kitchen, I see Dean with a dish towel over his shoulder, shoulders squared to the wide stove (one I've dreamed of and now have), and the soft sounds of classic rock playing on the speaker sat on the windowsill next to the stove.
"I can get used to this view," I note with a slight rasp to my sleepy voice.
He turns his shoulders to look back at me, and a lazy grin forms on his lips. "You should. It'll be a recurring one," he chuckles, shifting to he side so he can watch what I see is pan-seared porkchops, as he talks to me. "Did you ring the bell? I didn't hear it."
I shake my head as I shuffle over to the bartop island that faces towards the stove. I climb up on one of the tall barstools and pull a leg under me and burrow my hands into my lap with a yawn.
"Sleep well, baby doll?" He chuckles as he watches me.
"Felt like a few hours rather than half of one," I nod, eyes heavy, but slowly waking up. "But needed and greatly appreciated."
"Good," he nods and checks the oven for what I see as smashed golden potatoes. "Hungry?"
"For whatever you're cooking, hell yes."
He walks over, pressing a kiss to my head as he moves to the fridge.
"Pick your poison." He pulls out a beer and a cider from the fridge, showing me both for options.
"Cider," I answer, pointing to the can.
He grabs the beer for himself and pops the cap with his ring, and then hands me the cider after popping the tab. "So, give me the debrief. Pros and cons of the day?"
While he casually finishes dinner, I give him the details of my day. The start of the day went well; kids weren't getting as lost as they typically do, friends were reunited, old teachers were visited and hugged, and Jessie came and dropped by before she had to go to class. It was right before lunch that I slowly started to decline in energy and mental patience.
I love most of our staff. They're kind and professional while also being a huge advocate for our kiddos. However, there is no workplace without a pocket of people who rub the majority the wrong way. In my situation, it was an older senial counselor who thinks most kids shouldn't 'be babied in all the ways to Tuesday' instead of having plans in place to help them maneuver through their struggles.
She had been careless with the scheduling, and it turns out that my class wasn't the only one with a student who was meant to be in special education for the majority of the day but was in a general education class instead. And when the handful of teachers came to her to correct the problem, she made passive comments about us being too soft for the real world, while refusing to change the schedule in a timely manner. She claimed she was overloaded with work and had other things to prioritize over it.
"So she's just not going to move the kids to the environment they're meant for until it's convenient to her?" Dean asks, currently pulling the potatoes out of the oven.
"Eh, she was given a timeline from the principal after a few of us complained. The other counselor even offered to help her caseload out, but being the prideful person she is, she declined it." I twirl my can on the countertop. "But if she doesn't get most of them fixed by Monday, Chuck said she didn't have the choice not to share the load."
"How long has she been there?"
"A decade. Apparently, she's been growing increasingly vocal about her annoyances with each passing year. She used to say things behind a person's back, but now she says it right to their face in a demeaning way."
"What a ball of sunshine," Dean mumbles sarcastically as he turns off the stove and oven and begins plating the food. "Ironically, a counselor too."
I hum in agreement as I take a drink.
"Besides that, Sam came and picked up Jesse today, and we chatted at carpool before they headed home. She had a really good day," I smiled, happy for some good in the last 24 hours. "She got lucky and got the one teacher who isn't part of the 4th-grade teacher clique."
"Are those the Barbie teachers?"
"Those are the ones. There are two on the fourth-grade team, one on the second-grade team, and one on the fifth-grade team."
"Well, thank god the counselor saved Jesse there," he notes, using a spatula to put a handful of the potatoes on each plate. "Sam and her called when they got home and facetimed me to give a breakdown of her first day. She said she was really happy that you're in the building and that she can come visit you if she needs anything. Oh, and..." Dean turns, a slight annoyed look on his face. "Apparently, there's a boy in her class..."
"Oh, I know where this is going," I grin, loving the protective side of him. "And don't hate me, but this may just be the first one you know of. And it definitely won't be the last."
He twists his face in disgust and annoyance. "I don't hate you, but I don't like the thought you just put in my brain." He turns back, putting the pork chops on the plate.
"What's his name?" I chuckle.
"I don't know, 'Dead Boy Walking'?" he mumbles irritably under his breath.
"Dean."
"What? He will be if he tries anything."
"He's in fourth grade. That's an eight-year-old you're getting worked up about," I laugh as he turns and brings a plate over to me, the smell and the steam coming off it making my mouth water.
"Sweetheart, I know a boy's brain. I don't trust them," he shakes his head, giving me a look as he puts the plate in front of me.
"Again, eight. Years. Old," I shake my head back as he grabs his own plate and puts some grilled asparagus on the side for both of us.
"Again," Dean retorts in the same tone as he takes the stool next to me and settles into it. "Boys'. Brains."
We eat and chat about the day a little more, and I ask him what he did today besides move more things over here and lie about having work.
"I think I'll have the fence done by Sunday. It wasn't in horrible shape on the back line, so I really only have to do those side fences," he notes, taking a bite of his food. "Oh, and Jessie said she wants to help you with the garden you mentioned."
"I'd love the help. We can have a girls' day," I nod in agreement as I cut a piece of pork chop off.
I don't hear a response from Dean, and when I look back at him, he has a soft, loving, and endearing smile on his lips. His eyes hold a form of love I've come to cherish and melt under.
"I love you," he says, as if it's not already clear.
"I love you too." I chuckle, turning to him a little more.
"No, I don't think you realize to what extent I mean," he shakes his head, but doesn't pull his eyes from mine. Before I can ask where he's going with this, he says, "I know you know Jessie means the world to me and Sam, but I don't think you realize how much it means to us that she has a role model like you. Especially given her situation."
That makes my heart proud and happy at the same time. "She deserves the world. I'll be happy if I can give her even a piece of it in my lifetime."
He smiles a touch more. "I know."
We stay staring for a minute before I ask, "Do you think..." I push my food on my plate and spear a piece of potato before looking back at him. "Do you think he'll ever remarry?"
Dean sighs and goes back to his food. "I think so. In his own time, obviously, but I don't think he's given himself the time or space to dive back into the dating world. He's put all his energy into work and family, not leaving much room for anything else."
"What was she like?" I ask, and I can tell he knows I mean Jess, Sam's late wife.
He smiles softly, and the atmosphere is nostalgic and calm.
"She was kind. Funny and charismatic. Did really well at getting Sam out of his comfort zone and pushing him to be a little more spontaneous. We got along well in that manner."
"I can imagine," I chuckle as I listen.
"They met in college. She was a lawyer as well, medical malpractice, specifically. They were well off and thriving when they knew Jess was coming. Then when she got sick..." He sighs, and I can see the pain in his eyes. Perhaps pain for his brother, maybe for Jess. Or maybe just pain at a person he'd come to know as a friend taken too soon. "The cancer sucked. She stayed positive throughout it- not wanting to scare or scar Jess during her slow decline. Jess, luckily, I think, took more good memories away from it than bad, but you can't shield them all. It's why she hates hospitals now. The last 5 months were rough. She saw her mom bedridden and rarely home most of the time. But damn it if she isn't a strong little girl like her mom. Jessie made sure she knew she was loved and that death wasn't the end. She promised her she'd be there every step of her life, even after she left." He turns back to me. "I know she would have been extremely happy that you were a part of the family and guide and love Jess the way you do."
A part of the family... I don't know why that realization hadn't dawned on me before, but I was a part of Dean's family. Dean was my family. But hearing him say it and knowing Sam and Jessie were my people, too, just solidified everything more.
"I can't explain how happy it makes me, too." I bump my knee with his and grin. His hand comes down and rests on my knee, and his thumb rubs small circles on the exposed skin. "Do you think we would have been friends?"
"I think you and she would have had a ball ganging up on me and Sam. And god, what I wouldn't give to experience that at least once."
I smile and place my hand on top of his.
(I'm going to be posting today about an updated taglist!)
Series Summary: Y/N is a 3rd grade teacher, who had a really bad breakup. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does now a day, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets, and later has a one night stand with, may be harder to get rid of than she thought.
Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester
Word Count: 4600+
A/N: Ok, for those that read this series originally, obviously I'm extending the story! I'm excited to see where it goes and to continue the plot :) (8/22/25)
Chapter 26:
Dean's POV:
Ok, maybe the pole dancing promise was a stretch, considering I feel like I tweaked something in my back going down said fire-station pole for practice.
Now I was currently in my office with an ice pack that typically goes in Jessie's lunch box, pressed against my back as I filled out some paperwork. God, I'm getting old.
But even with the pain, a grin crept onto my face at successfully surprising Y/N with the house last night.
Our house.
We have another week before all the paperwork is finalized and loans are processed, but I can't wait until we merge our lives into one. In more ways than one, if I have any say.
I meant what I said last night about meeting her with every step she was ready to take, but I'll be honest. I'm close to the finish line when it comes to how far ahead I am in readiness to be with her. Hell, Sam had to tell me to chill out on matching headstones the other day when I joked about it, but then zoned out when I truly started considering it.
She's my endgame. I know it's hard for her to think that far out, considering she did that with Ketch, and found later on in their relationship that he wasn't the one she saw herself growing old with or truly starting a life with. And thank God for that. The prick didn't deserve her patience and love. Sometimes I'm not sure I even do, but I'll sure as hell make sure I work towards deserving it, unlike the pompous British swine who couldn't see a good thing in front of him if it smacked him in the face, which is why I smacked him in the face instead. (And I'd do it a million times over...)
After we ate on the porch, talking about plans we had for the house and such, we walked around the house again so Y/N could start planning for all the things she wanted. I was a decent handyman when it came to mechanics and could build a thing or two here and there, but my carpentry skills needed improvement. But for her? I'd buy a whole Lowe's franchise chain just to learn all the tricks of the trade so she could have the house of her dreams.
"What's got you grinning like a schoolgirl?" Benny asks, coming into my office with an eat-shit grin. He collapses into the chair in front of my desk with a huff of exhaustion. He's still in his suspenders, holding his turnout pants up, and has his bunker boots on. Besides that, he's got a black t-shirt with the station logo on it. "Did the surprise go well?" He sighs with a tired huff as he slouches in the chair.
"Went really well. So well, I overworked my back and almost threw it out today," I cringe as I adjust in my seat. "How was the call?" I ask, motioning to his face that still held a brush of soot over his eyebrow.
"Stupid office fire. Rufus made the building manager print flyers for every microwave in the building that warned against tinfoil in them. You'd think that'd be a common knowledge thing, but-"
"If there is one thing you learn in this job, it's that common knowledge ain't so common. Same with common sense." I type a few more things into a report before clicking out of it and leaning back in my chair, with my hands interconnected across my stomach, and my elbows resting on the armrest. "As for the surprise, she never saw it coming." I grin proudly.
"Atta-boy. I knew you'd fix things up." Benny's tease was honest, even if a little poke at me. But we've always worked that way. "She liked the place?"
"Was practically drooling over it. However, I think I'm going to have to rent a shop to make half the things she's planning for," I scratch the back of my neck. "I can build a car from scratch, but I'm a little rusty when it comes to wood-based projects."
"Don't worry about it, I can loan you some of my tools and knowledge. God knows I'm doing nothing with them right now," he sighs, sitting up more. "When do you guys move in?"
"Well, Y/N starts work Friday. Teachers go back at least one day to work in their classroom before they have meetings for a week. So there isn't a rush since she'll have a lot to deal with before the students come back to school. Although I'm sure she would have started plastering the wallpaper on today if she had it on hand."
"Crafty that one, hm?"
"She's a teacher. What do you think?" I smirk.
"True."
"Yeah, but we've both packed up quite a few boxes already, and the previous owners moved everything out, so we're set to drop off things as we get them packed. I'm going to go over to her place after work and load up a few of them in the truck to drop them off," I nod towards him. "Mind if I borrow your truck?"
"Yeah, I'll help too."
"Appreciate it." There's a moment of comfortable silence as our tired bodies and minds decompress before Benny snaps out of his thoughts and breaks it.
"Still can't believe it," he drones, staring at me with a sly grin.
I raise a brow, but can't help the grin that grows as his sets in.
"Meaning...?"
"Meaning, I never thought I'd see you settling down, Winchester. I mean, obviously, any good friend would hope you'd find a lady who would make you consider it, but this," he motions to me. "This is a level I didn't expect."
I chuckle, leaning forward on my desk. "Trust me. I thought Sam was going to be the only one to give my parents 20 grandkids and a daughter-in-law. Yet here we are."
"Here we are." Benny agrees with a few proud nods. "I'm happy for you, Dean. If anyone deserves a good turn in life, it's you, man."
"You know... Y/N has other teacher friends I can hook you up with," I wiggle my brows at him as I straighten in my seat and organize my desk to clean up for the day. "We'll probably have a housewarming party and barbecue once we're fully moved in. No question she'll have Mel and Mon on the guest list."
Benny blushes, and my assumptions are confirmed. He clears his throat and tries to straighten up as if she's walking in now. "Mon's going to be there?"
I laugh and grin at him, smacking my desk in excitement. "I knew it!"
Mon and Benny had met on a few occasions now, when Y/N and I had hung out with the fire department, or we went out to bars with the crew. Mon always seemed not to fall for his southern charm and gave him hell when he tried to use it on her. But if I know anything about Benny, he loved a woman who could put him in his place and scare him just a touch. Most firefighters I knew did. I also fell into that category.
Benny rolls his eyes in a bashful way at that, and it only confirms my theory. "What?"
"I knew you had a glutton for punishment. I've never seen a woman humble you as fast as she does, and yet, you're the blushing schoolgirl!"
Benny attempts to scoff to cover up his embarrassment. "She's a strong woman. Can you blame me?"
"No. Then I'd have to blame myself too," I laugh as I stand and wince at the tension in my back. "God. Note to self: the firepole is for the 25-year-olds and younger. I'll take the stairs from here on out."
"Heard you gave the crew quite the show going down this morning. When was the last time you did that?" He stands stretching himself.
"Too long, apparently. Would have cherished it more if I'd known it was my last," I groan as I gather a few things and pack my bag. "You're on for another hour, right?"
"Yeah, I'm going to get the truck back in shape and ready for another call, and then I'm clocking out. Why? Need me to walk you to your car, grandpa?"
"Ha. Ha." I laugh blandly at his stupid smirk and crossed arms as he watches me shuffle around the desk. "You have enough energy to help me with Y/N's boxes still? Especially since I don't think I can load many with my damn back."
He yawns and stretches with his arms above his head as he follows me out of the office. "Yeah, I can do that. Let me wrap up here, and I'll meet you at your place. Want to grab a late lunch while we're out?"
"Works for me. Text me when you're headed."
Benny confirms as I head out to my car, and when I get in and start the engine, I pull my phone out to check the time. As I am, a message pops up with Y/n's name and a white heart and world emoji next to it.
Y/N: *Picture* The booknook, otherwise known as the bane of my existence, is complete! Now to print a rules poster that aesthetically matches the damn jungle I subjected myself to building...🫠
I chuckle at the pictures she sent of her project, which she had worked all day on, and I saved the one she sent last- her holding up the phone in a selfie angle and sticking her tongue out while flipping off the space behind her. God, I love this woman.
Dean: Looks fantastic, Sweetheart. You'll have to print off some maps too for them to escape... Did you plant an actual tree in there, haha?!
The nook is obviously a jungle theme, but she had gone all out in hanging fake vines and green and brown butcher paper around to really make it a nook and not just a corner in the room. It was a spot where the kids could escape the fluorescent lighting and use the lamps she put in to make a softer environment. She had educated me that she created a space for kids who were overstimulated or needed some space, a secluded and calming area.
I can't even begin to imagine the kind of time I would have had in school if I had had a teacher like her. I may have actually liked it.
Y/N: It feels like I did... I think my hands are cramped from crumbling that damn paper to give it a bark texture... *Sigh* Besides that. I think I'm going to get a few posters printed and laminated, and then I'm headed home. When are you planning to be there?
Dean: Well, maybe you have a greener thumb than you let on ;) Leaving work now. I'm having Benny bring his truck so I can pack some of those boxes you mentioned. I'll probably miss you before you get to your apartment, but I'll see you when I get back from the house. What do you want to do for dinner tonight??
I start up my car and start driving, only making it a block down the road when she texts again. I check the message at the next stoplight.
Y/N: Sounds good! I can start making something when I get home so that it's ready when you head back. You're spending the night, right??
Was that even a question? I rarely sleep at home anymore. Most of my place was packed and/or donated already, so that we can consolidate our things. I was practically living out of a duffel bag at this point. Then again, I couldn't wait until we didn't have the three places to move between. I was counting down the days until I was set in one spot, with her.
Anyway, though, I played with her.
Dean: Nah, I think I'll sleep on my frameless bed over sharing with your snoring ass. Ugh. Gross... ;)
Y/N: Sleeping on your frameless bed wouldn't stop the snoring. That's all you, baby. ;)
Smartass. The light turns green.
Y/N: I'll see you when you get around, dork. Let me know if there's anything specific you're craving, and if not, I'll just work with what I have on hand. Love you! See you soon🥰
____________
Today is Y/N's first day of school, and I can tell she was slightly anxious about getting a new set of kids and making a good first impression. So, considering I have a say in the station's schedule, I made sure I was off and Benny and Cas were too. Why, you ask? Don't worry about it.
Currently, I'm working on getting a bouquet of pastel peonies, a large bag of sushi in different varieties, and another single brown paper sack, balanced in my arms before ringing in to the office at her school. Charlie and I have built a rapport to some extent, and she greets me before buzzing me in, and I head to Y/N's room in hopes she's in there for her lunch.
Sure enough, when I turn the corner to her hall, I hear laughter and voices that match who I know now as Gabriel and Mon. I smile, hearing the lightheartedness of them checking in with each other on the first day back.
When I peek my head into the room, I see Y/N at her desk, leaning back and listening to a story Gabriel's telling, and Mon sitting on the edge of her desk listening as well. Her eyes are on me in seconds of seeing movement at her door, and she lights up.
"Hey, you," she cuts Gabriel off, making her two friends turn to see me walking in, and I grin wider.
"Hey," I reply as I approach her desk and she rounds the corner, leaning up to press a kiss to my lips in greeting. God, I love this woman and her touch.
She's dressed in a colorful, patterned, and ruffled skirt, accessorized with a belt at the waist and a cream buttoned suit vest that lies over it slightly. She's wearing high boots that can't fully be seen under her flowing skirt—Picteresque elementary school teacher. And to accent it, she's wearing the locket I gifted her this morning as a back-to-school gift. The gold pendant was complementary to her outfit, I like to think.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, looking at the bouquet I hand off to her, and sniffing the floral fragrance they share. "I thought you had work today."
Lies. I told her that, so she didn't catch onto the surprises I have in store for this and this evening. That's right, more than one because she deserves more of everything.
"Yeah, change of plans on that. I wanted to bring you lunch. Well, Mel and Mon too," I lift the brow paper bag and Mon grins, clapping her hand, not hesitating to snag it from me and start digging in. "I wasn't sure what you guys liked, so I got like five different rolls," I note, throwing an arm around my girl's shoulder and pulling her into me as we watch Mon scower the offering.
"Hey, what about me? It's my first day of school, too," Gabriel whines, trying to get a peek over Mon's shoulder, where she promptly hip-bumps him and shoos him away.
"Shut it. I just watched you shovel a family-sized chicken alfredo down your gullet less than 15 minutes ago," Mon chides, pulling out the sushi containers and lining them up on the desks.
"Where's Mel?" I ask, looking down at Y/N.
"She has class right now. She's off next hour, though. Mon's class is at Art, and mine is at lunch." She informs, reaching to put the flowers on her desk before moving back to me. "Gabriel here got lucky today, and the group he's supposed to have this hour has a presentation in the library. Tomorrow we'll be lucky enough not to have to deal with his ass during our plan."
I chuckle at her snark towards Gabriel, and he pouts before trying to drag a container of sushi closer to him, but Mon smacks his hand. "Watch it," she warns.
"Ow. Stingy," he mumbles, rubbing the assaulted skin.
I let them tussle it out for the food as I turn my attention to my girl. "How's the first day going? I figured your lack of texts means it's been busy?" My hand brushes back her stray hairs from her face, already seeing the mid-day wear and tear of wrangling 3rd graders for hours.
She lets out a long sigh. "We have some harder hitters this year. I have a student with some emotional regulation issues that we're trying to understand better and acclimate with. Getting him out of the car and keeping him in the classroom has been a battle to say the least."
I sympathize with her, brushing my thumb over her jaw before putting my arm back around her and squeezing her into me again. "You'll figure it out, Sweetheart. If anyone can, it's you," I kiss the top of her head, as she wraps her arms around my middle.
"He needs a 504 plan," Mon notes as she tears apart some chopsticks and picks her first victim. "I don't know why his last school didn't get him started on a plan."
I raise a brow, confused by the terminology. Y/N notices, humming in agreement, and then explains.
"It's a behavioral management plan. It helps us assign accommodations and resources for him to use when he needs a de-escalation approach. That and it can also help with any medical issues like asthma, bipolar disorder, allergies, all the things depending on the kid."
"Damn." I learn something new almost every day about teachers' responsibilities when it comes to education, and every time, I become more impressed by the things they have to keep track of, monitor, and apply in a day. "So basically, you guys are angels sent from heaven?" I grin down at her, squeezing her shoulder.
"Bingo," Mon snaps a finger gun at me before shoving a salmon-based sushi roll in her mouth. "And then we become corpses when we get home and put our ass on the couch."
"I've stared at the wall for two hours in complete silence and darkness on multiple occasions after a crazy day," Gabriel adds in just as he sneakily steals a piece before Mon can stop him with her chopsticks.
"Lucky," she warns with a narrowed eye.
I chuckle and roll my eyes at the two before turning back to Y/N, who's now moving for her own platter. "You planning on staying late at all, or will you be home at a decent hour?"
"Hopefully, normal time. First day, I try to give myself some grace and not stay later than necessary. Always drained after getting back into the run of the old routine." She pops open a plastic cover and expertly grabs a piece with her chopsticks. "Why? You have plans?"
As she takes a bite and watches me, waiting for her answer, I can't help but smile softly at her. I noticed it as soon as I walked through the door, and when she left this morning, but her outfit and overall persona were such a wholesome thing while in the classroom. This was her element, and she embodied it well.
"Dean?" she questions, snapping me out of my daze.
"Sorry, yeah," I shake my head, using the pad of my thumb to brush some sauce off the corner of her lip. "I have a surprise for you tonight and wanted to double-check your ETA."
She grins, chewing and nodding. "Expect me home by 4:30 at the latest," she nods.
"Aw, they're so cute, it's sickening," Gabriel fake gushed, before making the motion of pointing a finger at the back of his throat and fake gagging. "Disgusting."
I roll my eyes. I don't know how Cas and he are related, but I understand now why they don't hang out much. They're almost complete opposites.
"Don't mind him. He's jealous," Y/N waves off without even glancing at him. "None of his lays have developed into a loving relationship."
"Hey! I've had plenty of second dates," he defends weakly.
"Sure. What about thirds... or fourths?" she shoots back with a raised brow as she takes another bite.
"A few," he grumbled, not very convincingly.
"Yeah, right? When?" Mon adds in.
"That one time. A few months back. Her name was..." he has to buffer on the name, which doesn't help his lie. "Helen? Heather?"
"Wow. Get this man in front of a courtroom," Y/N teases. "You have me convinced."
I chuckle watching the interaction of the three—quite the comedy set this group.
"Well, I'm going to drop off Jessie's lunch, and then I've got to head back. Work and all," I say, taking the step to her and pressing a kiss on her head where she's sat. "If you need anything. I'm a call away," I say, smiling down at her as she looks up.
"You gonna have lunch with her?" she asks about Jessie.
"Nah, she told me she doesn't want to eat lunch with her uncle now that she's in 4th grade. Took a hit to the ego," I say, clutching my hand over my chest.
"Wait till they're in 5th grade. It gets worse." Mon added, knowing well as she's with them all day.
"The pre-teenage phase gets worse in 7th grade. That's when you really need to be scared," Gabriel fake shivers. "Middle school... Stuff of horrors."
Y/N chuckles and turns back to me. "She came by at the beginning of school to say hi. She's excited and doing well, according to both her and her teacher, if you're worried." Her assurance makes me feel better, and I'm grateful she's in the building for Jessie. It gives both me and Sam a sense of relief. "You're not going to stay and help us eat this?" she gestures to the vast layout of rice and fish.
"Nah, that's all for you guys. It's the least I can do for you all, shaping young minds. Minus Gabriel, of course," I add for an extra taunt.
"I like your brother better." Gabriel rolls his eyes dramatically.
"Ditto," I shoot back with a grin.
Mon speaks up before I can leave. "You have any friends as chivalrous and as yearning-based as you, Dean? I could use a firefighter/ sushi deliverer."
"Mon, you know damn well Benny is practically doing witchcraft to get you to notice him," Y/N laughs.
"I've noticed him."
"Ok, so why are you playing hard to get?"
"Because I am hard to get," Mon replies confidently, chin high, shoulders back. "You did the same thing, am I wrong?"
Y/N scoffs in mock offense, and I shrug. "She's not wrong. You made me work overtime for you."
"Careful," she says, giving me a teacher look that I smartly raise my hands in surrender before she turns back to Mon. "Yeah, but I eventually gave him the chance to prove himself, did I not?"
"True, but he doesn't talk to me outside of the times we've hung out with Dean and his crew. It's about effort."
I sigh as I place both hands on Y/N's shoulders and lean forward a bit from behind her.
"Word of advice from his friend." She gives me her attention. "He's scared of you. In a good way. In an attracted way. But still scared. He's nervous he'll fuck it up or not be your type. He's told me before that he's not sure if you feel any kind of interest towards him."
"You do like your men scared of you," Y/N reasons, and I squeeze her shoulders.
"That I do," Mon thinks over, her eyes looking up as if running the equation in her brain.
"Listen, we'll have a housewarming barbecue once we're in and settled. I'm inviting the station, and obviously, you're all invited too. Gabriel's invite is still TBD," I add.
"Jesus," Gabriel groans at being picked at religiously.
"I'll tell him to grow a pair and that you'd appreciate it if he's a bit more assertive."
Mon makes an unsure hum, and Y/N reprimands her. "Not every man can read your thoughts, Mon. Give the man a chance to get it right."
"Fine. But in the meantime, tell him to just do it. He's manly. Act it."
I give a small two-finger salute. "Yes, ma'am. I'm on it."
__________________
Y/N offered to walk me to my car, but I told her to enjoy the last bit of her lunch she had and gave her a kiss goodbye, which Gabriel and Mon responded to with gagging noises and boos. That didn't help their case, obviously, because I just kissed her harder.
As I'm walking to the exit after dropping off Jessie's lunch in the office, Clark Kent himself walks out with a stack of copies in his hand. We make eye contact, and instead of giving a casual nod and continuing on, I decide I owe him thanks.
"Um, hey man," I say, clearing my throat awkwardly.
"Hey, Winchester," he says kindly and stops in his walk and smiles to me with a nod. "Visiting, Y/N?"
I nod, throwing a thumb back over my shoulder. "Yeah, brought her and Jess lunch with some first-day-back gifts."
"I'm sure she loved that. I heard she's got a busy class this year."
I nod, an awkward chuckle following. God, I'm not good at this shit.
"Listen, I just wanted to um," I look back down the hall again, then back at him, clapping my hands together. "I wanted to thank you for that talk you had with Y/N. She told me you gave her some insight of where I was coming from. It actually," *Another throat clear*. "It helped a lot."
Clark thankfully never called out my awkwardness in this situation; instead, nodding and giving a soft smile in return. "It's no problem. I know it probably wasn't my place to talk about it-"
"You're place or not, it helped," I wave him off. "I just... I wanted to apologize if I've been standoffish. Given everything." I decide to sum up in one word the way he had a crush on my girl, and was actively pursuing her when I was, and she eventually chose me... "You could have been a dick to me. Could have helped yourself in that situation, but you didn't, and uh. I appreciate it. Just wanted to let you know." I nod, pocketing my hands in my jeans.
His smile is genuine as he nods. "Again, I'm just glad she's happy and being treated right. Which seems to be the case every time I talk with her."
The tension in my shoulders relaxes, and I nod. "Thanks, man."
He nods and waves before starting to walk down the hall.
"Hey, Clark!" I shout, catching him before he disappears down another hall. "We're going to have a housewarming party eventually. More so a barbecue, but... You're welcome to come when that happens."
He grins again and nods. "I'd be up for it. Just let me know when and what to bring." He gives one more single wave and heads down towards his room.
Huh. Guess he's not as bad as I've mapped him out to be in my mind.
Plus, I think Y/N may reward me for being extra civil....
I grin at the thoughts and have a new pep in my step as I leave the school to get started on the next surprise.
🍿what's your favorite book you've read? (and if you want to- what's a book or author who's had an influence on your writing style?)
hope the rest of your week is fabulous! keep on creating!! :)
haii my bby! also sweet girl??? i cry and blush at the same time :_)
I know this answer isn't great so if you want to pick a new question you absolutely can! but i honestly haven't read many books or stories outside of on here </3 so ill answer with stories linkd here!
Some of my absolute favorite stories that changed my brain chemistry on here and inspire my writing altogether are:
The Slip Up by @justkending Modern dad!Bucky x single mom reader
Grade-A Pain In My Ass by @superbassbuck Modern single dad!Bucky x teacher!Reader
Wildflower by @superbassbuck Modern singledad!Bucky x Florist! Reader
Swallow by @all1e23 Biker!Bucky x reader
Astrophile by @all1e23 Firefighter!Bucky x reader, Single dad AU
For the Love of the Game by @pellucid-constellations college athlete!Bucky x reader
Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations lumberjack!Bucky x reader
Mess is Mine by @scrumptious-delusion Boxer!Bucky x reader
These authors and their impossibly creative and extraordinary writing makes me strive to be half the writer they are! These stories are perfection in every way and i suggest reading them all if they are your cup fo tea!
You don’t know how much this makes my heart happy🥹❤️ (definitely need to do a rewrite of this series cause I’ve grown in my writing so much since I published it, but love the love it gets!!)
OH MY GOSHHHH IM FREAKING OUT!!!! WHAT THE HECKKKK and if i said this is my fav story on here in the wholeeeee world and the first story to actually have me in a chokehold and i think abou this series is every way!!!! Its perfection and i just cant explain what the series means to me and my writing and ahhhhhh <33333
STOP ITT!!! This is so wholesome and makes my teacher and writer heart literally SOAR!!😫😭 I hope your writing journey is everything and more. I’m hoping to make this series my next rewrite, and hopefully I can amplify the love and plot that I truly miss writing about 🥰 (writers advice I’ve come to learn that helped me immensely… Write a complete draft, read it through, scratch it and write it again knowing what you know now. A lot of my best works are ones that I scratched the OG of and rewrote!!)
I send all the love and support your way!! Please feel free to reach out in the future too ;) ❤️❤️❤️
🍿what's your favorite book you've read? (and if you want to- what's a book or author who's had an influence on your writing style?)
hope the rest of your week is fabulous! keep on creating!! :)
haii my bby! also sweet girl??? i cry and blush at the same time :_)
I know this answer isn't great so if you want to pick a new question you absolutely can! but i honestly haven't read many books or stories outside of on here </3 so ill answer with stories linkd here!
Some of my absolute favorite stories that changed my brain chemistry on here and inspire my writing altogether are:
The Slip Up by @justkending Modern dad!Bucky x single mom reader
Grade-A Pain In My Ass by @superbassbuck Modern single dad!Bucky x teacher!Reader
Wildflower by @superbassbuck Modern singledad!Bucky x Florist! Reader
Swallow by @all1e23 Biker!Bucky x reader
Astrophile by @all1e23 Firefighter!Bucky x reader, Single dad AU
For the Love of the Game by @pellucid-constellations college athlete!Bucky x reader
Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations lumberjack!Bucky x reader
Mess is Mine by @scrumptious-delusion Boxer!Bucky x reader
These authors and their impossibly creative and extraordinary writing makes me strive to be half the writer they are! These stories are perfection in every way and i suggest reading them all if they are your cup fo tea!
You don’t know how much this makes my heart happy🥹❤️ (definitely need to do a rewrite of this series cause I’ve grown in my writing so much since I published it, but love the love it gets!!)
I'm Just Kending. Kinda... Not really ;) @justkending - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
