A/N: This story came to me while listening to a song by Bing Crosby called ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’. I’m a sucker for the 1940′s era, and I’ve been dying to write something like this for a long time, just never had the guts. I’ve also been researching to ensure that most everything is historically accurate. This is going to be a Notebook-esque love story, with lots of fluff, angst, and smut mixed in. I plan on doing multiple parts but, if you like it, please let me know! I love hearing from you and it would mean so so much to me. I hope you enjoy! xo
Based on the song: I’ll Be Seeing You by Bing Crosby [x]
;although I do prefer Billie Holiday’s version [x]
Visuals (and certain things mentioned):
The Red Rocket diner - [x]
Your 1940 Lincoln Continental [x]
Rita Hayworth - [x]
Glenn Miller - [x]
Warnings:
- none, yet (mwahaha!)
Tagging: @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @balthazars-muse @kayteonline @manawhaat @aprofoundbondwithdean @oriona75 @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid (if you want to be tagged, shoot me a message)
Summary: It’s 1940, and World War II is rearing its ugly head. You work at a local diner in your hometown called The Red Rocket and your life is picture perfect. Until a handsome stranger, Dean Winchester, appears in the diner one day and changes your life forever. The question is, are these changes permanent or merely temporary?
*gif is not mine.
Prologue:
You sat on the soft cushion lining the sill of your bay window, staring down the long dirt road that led to your home. Everyday this is where you sat, hoping to hear the rumbling of his motorcycle coming up your driveway, praying that you would one day be able to look into his eyes once more, even just for a moment. You reached into your blouse and pulled out the faded, creased picture of him and looked at it for the hundredth time that day. You kissed it softly, before holding it gently over your heart.
“Someday…” you whispered.
Your alarm clock shrilled next to your ear, the sound making you sit straight up in bed, your hair a total rat’s nest on one side. You stopped the clock from screaming at you and ran a hand over your face. After swinging your legs over your bed, you stood and stretched your legs. You walked over to your bay window, the favorite part of your house, and greeted the mid-July sun. Today was bound to be a beautiful day, the sky already a robin’s egg blue, the clouds white and fluffy like cotton candy from the local fair.
After making yourself a pot of coffee and some toast, you took a hot shower. You curled your hair as close to Rita Hayworth’s as you possibly could, before slipping into your pale pink uniform. You applied your red lipstick and straightened out the white collar, fluffing up your curls in the mirror. After lacing up your black and white brogues, you were out the door. The engine of your baby blue Lincoln Continental roared to life and you drove off to another day of work at the most popular diner in town, The Red Rocket.
You had grown up here and there wasn’t one face you didn’t recognize or know in some way. You had been working at The Red Rocket diner since high school, and you could never bring yourself to leave. You loved everyone you worked with and all the regular customers who came just to have you as their waitress.
After parking your car in the parking lot in the back, you unlocked the door to the diner with your spare key. You were opening today, so you were the first one here. The diner was beautiful. Five sets of red leather booths lined the left side of the room, and to the right was a long, white counter that people most often sat at and ate with matching red leather stools. The white tile floor gleamed under your shoes and a large jukebox, your favorite part of the diner, was nestled perfectly in the corner.
You put your purse in the back office and grabbed your apron, tying it around your waist. You walked over to the jukebox and put on your favorite Glenn Miller song, when you heard the bell over the door chime. You turned around to see the cook, Castiel, walk in with a smile on his face.
“Morning, Y/N,” he said, tying his own apron behind his waist, before walking behind the counter. “Beautiful day today, isn’t it?” You smiled back at him and nodded.
“Good morning, Cas. It is a lovely day out. This is how July weather should be!”
You looked at the clock and watched as the hands ticked closer to 8:00. You walked over to the front door and flipped the ‘Closed’ sign over to ‘Open’. As Cas started to prep for the morning breakfast rush, you wiped down the counter and started a pot of coffee.
A redheaded whirlwind burst through the door, tying her apron hastily around her waist. Charlie was late, but then again she always was. She couldn’t be on time even if her life depended on it.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, out of breath. “I ran all the way here!” A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.
“It’s okay, Charlie,” you answered, straightening the salt and pepper shakers in front of you. “You have booths today.”
“You got it!” she said, before going to her booths and making sure everything was stocked.
About fifteen minutes later, people started pouring into the small diner. Your regular customers sat at the counter, knowing you were working it today. You got them coffee and filled their orders, passing on compliments to Cas about his delicious cooking, and chit chatting about their families and kids. Breakfast was almost over and the crowd had thinned out a bit before the lunch rush. You were too busy cleaning the counter, to notice the two men who had just walked into the diner.
You had never seen them before and, by the looks on the faces of everyone else in the diner, they hadn’t either. The two men took their seats down a bit farther from where you stood, picking up a menu and talking amongst one another. They were both very attractive, one with shorter light brown hair and the other with darker brown hair. Your heart skipped a beat, as you walked over to the pair.
“Hello, welcome to the Red Rocket fellas. What can I get you today?” You said, taking your notepad out of your apron and the pencil from behind your ear. The man with the light brown hair looked up at you from his menu and your stomach did a flip. He was even more beautiful up close, his eyes a gorgeous emerald green color. He smiled at you sideways, his tongue snaking out of his mouth to lick his lips.
“Hello, ma'am,” he said, putting his menu down. “I’m Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam. We’re new in town. Anything on the menu you’d recommend?” With every word he spoke, he ensured direct eye contact was made between you. You stared back for a moment, lost in his trance, before speaking.
“Ah- oh, sure. Our French toast is the cat’s meow,” you replied, your face flushing scarlet under his relentless gaze.
“Great…Y/N,” he said, looking down at your name tag and handing you the menu. “I’ll take that with a side of bacon and a coffee, please. Black.” You nodded, writing down his order. You looked to his brother Sam.
“And for you, hun?” you asked him, still feeling the green eyes of this handsome stranger piercing into you.
“The same, Miss. Except with sausage, please.” Sam said, handing you his menu also. You smiled at them both, trying to look like you weren’t having an existential crisis.
“Not a problem. It’ll be out in a jiff. I’ll be right back with your coffee.” You took the menus from them and you swore you noticed Dean’s eyes look you up and down, from head to toe. You scurried off to the kitchen, handing Cas their orders. He looked at you quizzically, his eyebrow raised.
“You okay? You seem a little flustered,” he asked, pinning the orders up in front of him.
“I’m okay,” you said, feeling your hot cheeks. “I just need to sit down for a second.” You sat down in a nearby chair in the kitchen, letting your heartbeat slow down. Who was this beautiful stranger, and why did he have such an effect on you? Charlie bustled in with a tray full of dirty dishes, depositing them in the nearby sink.
“Who are those tall glasses of water at the counter?” she asked, walking over to stand in front of you. “And why was the one with the shorter hair giving you the googly eyes?” Leave it to Charlie to be blunt and to the point.
“Sam and Dean Winchester,” you replied, standing up and smoothing out your apron. “They’re new in town, just moved here. I need to get them their coffee.” You started to walk out of the kitchen, before grabbing two clean mugs from the rack.
“Put your moves on him, Y/N!” she yelled after you. “Make him fall in love!” You cringed at her words, hoping that they didn’t hear her. You poured their coffee, leaving Dean’s black as he requested. You grabbed some cream and sugar for Sam and walked over to them, placing the hot mugs in front of them.
“Be careful,” you said, putting down the cream and sugar near Sam. “It’s hot. Just made a new pot.”
“Thank you, doll.” Dean said, winking one of his emerald gems at you. Sam nodded in thanks, pouring cream into his coffee but no sugar. You made a mental note to remember this, should they ever come back to the diner. Boy, did you hope they did.
Normally, you stayed out at the counter and talked with the customers, but while Cas made Sam and Dean’s food, you stayed in the kitchen. Being around Dean was causing your emotions to run wild, and you couldn’t wrap your head around why. Men never had an effect on you like this, especially not a man you’d just met; a complete stranger.
Cas dinged the bell to let you know their food was ready, making you jump. You carried their food out to them and placed it in front of them, giving them extra napkins and filling up their coffee.
“Enjoy,” you said, putting the coffee pot back on its place. “If you need anything, let me know.” You gave them a soft smile, before turning to go right back into the kitchen.
“Excuse me, Y/N,” Dean said, making you stop in your tracks. You turned around to face him, those green eyes yet again shattering your resolve. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in showing me around town. Being new and all, a guy could get lost in a place like this and I thought - who better to show me around than a pretty lady like you?” He flashed you his hundred watt smile, his white teeth gleaming under the bright lights of the diner. Was he asking you out on a date, or was this him genuinely asking you for a tour? Either way, your heart didn’t care.
“Sure,” you replied, surprised at your boldness and spontaneity. “I get off at 5, if you want to swing by then.” You could’ve sworn his smile widened at your response.
“Great,” he replied, setting down his fork, giving you his full attention. “It’s a date.”
Alright, I know I only have like four followers, but your opinions are highly valued. Of course, I’d like this reblogged for those of you who are Supernatural fans. Alright, here’s the gist of things... I’m experimenting with a story idea, don’t know if I’ll publish it on my site and link it on my Fanfic Blog (hilerysfanfics), I’m hoping that I will but... Well, the story involves Dean being a Military man, and its a case fic with Sam and it involves a secret that Dean has kept from his brother ie his military career, and I want YOUR opinion. Do you see Dean Winchester of Supernatural being more... An Army Man? Or a Marine?
