Part 11 of the collaborative series in which every day, for two weeks, I post a scene of your choice.
11/14
One gaudy night - Murder in the Dark (S1E12)
Requested by Susan Blair and Marie-hélène Cholet-Damez
Phryne asked Jack to come to Guy and Isabella's engagement party to be her friend and to remind her not to be afraid of shadows. So, naturally, despite having just gotten a divorce that same day, he goes. They are both unsettled, scared and emotionally drained. Phryne copes like she always does and asks him for one gaudy night, knowing that he won't accept. He always does the right thing, the noble thing. We see him silently begging her to stop. He wants to accept, he is finally free to do so, but it's not the right place, nor the right time. He needs to heal and she needs closure first. In the end, he only agrees to the costume, telling her that he can take it from there as she has already started undressing him. He won't give her one gaudy night, it wouldn't help, but he's giving her his constant and unwavering support.
He won't give her just one night of pleasure, but hundreds of nights and days of strong partnership and love.
A huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to @lady_morgana_shire (Instagram) for the beautiful text, since I was stuck on one so sad, that it would make me cry every time I read it, and I couldn't have it. Not with this scene.
For celebrating the Got7 newest comeback i was lucky enough to be part of this colaboration with the most wonderfull people on this planet. Words cannot describe how gratefull i am!
So here is my story, hope you will enjoy it!
The collab is now complete <3 Here you can find everything: Intro / Mark / Jaebeom / Jackson / Jinyoung / Youngjae / Bambam / Yugyeom
“It wasn’t interesting in the slightest!”
“Why should you be interested in this book? You shouldn’t, because the book itself is boring.”
“As much I trust JYP Publishing, this was a really bad move.”
“The most boring book known to man.”
Mark opened his eyes, when the carriage bumped on another rock. He hadn’t dreamed of that fiasco for a long time. Maybe it was the change that bought back unpleasant memories. He looked out of the window and the castle came in to view. It was a magnificent building; it was his fresh start.
You were really proud of your job. The only one in the family who got to work in the castle and serve the Wentworth family. After four years of good services, you got to be head maid for the library and two other reading rooms.
You loved the library, the serenity of the place, the smell of books. Furthermore, you loved the old librarian. He was a kind one, full of knowledge. One day he caught you looking at one of the books and taught you how to read. Since then you would spend your free time in the library. One day, you found him in his chair dead. You cried the hardest at his funeral. However, life goes on with the Wentworth family and as any noble family they hired a new librarian, who will take care of the books, buy new ones and take care of them. So, they could boast about their wealth.
After completing your duties, you climbed the ladder to the highest shelf. There were your favourite books, not the fancy ones, but the stories that spoke to your heart. You reached for one, standing on your tippy toes.
“Oh, come on! I want to read you,” you said. Then you heard a chuckle in the library, turned too quickly and the next thing you know, you are falling to the ground. You brace yourself for impact, but it never came.
“What do we have here,” said an amused voice above your head. You opened your eyes and looked upon the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.
“I’m Y/N. I’m the maid here,” you said and he put you down. “And who are you?” you asked suspiciously.
“I’m Mark, and this is my library,” he answered.
“Your library?”
He smiled. “I’m the new librarian, so kind of.”
“I loved Mr. Westley,” you said with a sad smile.
“He was the kindest man I ever knew. It was him who taught me how to read and then he let me read in here when I had free time,” you explained yourself and looked at him with a hopeful expression.
He picked up the novel and with a “Just return it, when you are done,” he gave it to you. You smiled at him and ran away.
***
“Mark?” He lifted his head and looked at you. You were curled up in a chair by the library window, book on your lap and shoes down.
“What does aggrandize mean?” you asked.
“What do you mean?”
“It says in here ‘it was aggrandized’” he stood up from his desk and walked to you. Your eyes never left the book, but suddenly you felt his breath fan your face.
“See? Here, this sentence, I don’t understand,” you say and looked at him. His face was so close.
“Oh this…wait…what are you reading?” he asked.
“It’s Tales from the village by M.T.. It’s a really good book. The stories are short and sometimes the author uses difficult words for me, but the stories are fun,” you said excitedly and showed him the cover. He rose quickly and turned his back to you.
“What’s wrong?” you said quietly.
“It’s nothing. I have lots of work, you should go,” he said sharply.
***
You avoided Mark for an entire week. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were hurt by his cold demeanor. However, it was your duty to clean the library. That’s when you noticed the paper on Mark’s desk.
Dear Y/N,
It seems like you have been avoiding me. So, I chose to write this letter. I’m sorry I reacted like that. The truth is, and believe me I don’t say it lightly, I’m the author of the book. Apparently, it’s the most boring book in the existence of books. It’s a painful memory for me. I wanted to be the world’s greatest writer, but I gave up after one unsuccessful try. Nobody liked the book and here you are. Enjoying my stories and questioning me about the difficult words I used. So, I wanted to say thank you.
Mark.
You smiled. He had really neat handwriting, you thought. You tucked his letter in one of your pockets and walked from the library.
***
“Here is your tea,” you placed the tray on his desk.
“Thank you, Y/N” he smiled at you.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
“Well, Lord Wentworth ordered new books from Sir Walter Scott. So, I’m writing it in the catalogue of the library. I must say my predecessor did a really good job at keeping track of the books,” he explained.
“Oh, so this has a list of all the books in the library?” you asked excitedly.
“Yes, yes it does. And here are blank pages for the new ones,” he pointed out.
“That’s marvelous!” you clapped your hands together.
“So why did you stop writing?” you blurted out suddenly.
“You read the book,” he said.
“Yes, I did. We all did actually. I read it to the other staff and they enjoyed it too. Not the difficult words though,” you said.
“They did?” you laughed at his shocked expression.
“Yes, maybe the stuck-up city society doesn’t understand, but for us common folks? Your stories hit the right note,” you said.
“If you put it that way… the bad thing is most of the common folks don’t know how to read. And if you want to make money with writing, you need to please the high society,” he explained.
“That’s not fair,” you pouted. Mark started laughing and you never felt better.
***
Your friendship with Mark only grew stronger. You spent every free minute in the library. He taught you about the books and you just talked to him about the servants living in the castle. Until Lord Wentworth decided to get his hands on one particularly rare edition of Don Juan by Lord Byron, and naturally he sent his librarian after it.
“You don’t look so good Y/N,” said one of your fellow maids.
“Is it because a certain librarian isn’t here?” said another playfully and you glared at her.
“We are friends,” you clarified it, but it didn’t sound right. It was so much more for you.
“Yes, friends. Ada and Jon are friends too, that’s why they are getting married on Saturday” both of them started laughing.
“Stop it, you two. Y/N, you have a letter here,” the footman interrupted your circle.
“Is it from your friend?” asked the girls and started laughing again.
Dear Y/N,
Is it inappropriate of me to say that I miss you? Our afternoon teas, your curious questions and your smile. The journey was a long one. There are so many people who want the book. I don’t know if I will be successful. Let’s hope for the best. How is life in the castle? Did Daisy overcome the cold? How is Ada and Jon’s wedding preparations going? Is Miss Cicely still annoying? Are you keeping our library clean? Did you read a new book? I have so many questions and you are so far away. So, prepare your answers when I get back. Say my greetings to all the staff and if it’s not too forward, think of me.
Mark.
You clutched the letter to your chest. Oh, how you missed him.
***
You didn’t want to seem too eager, but every time you heard a coach arriving, you were at the nearest window looking at who walked out of it. So far it was one suitor for Miss Cicely, mail and supplies. Mark didn’t really say when he will be back, you just heard Lord Wentworth deliver the news about a successful purchase of the book. So, you expected Mark every day now. You had so much to tell him.
So, when you heard the wheels of another coach you said to yourself that you wouldn’t look. It’s the supplies again since the Wentworth’s are planning the big dinner. You are a strong woman, you will not look.
“Oh…The librarian is back,” said your friend.
“What?” you turned to her and then made your way to the window. It was him! So, you started to run.
Mark passed the package to one of the footmen and made his way to the hall. When he heard footsteps approaching, he turned and saw you running.
You clash with Mark and almost knock him to the ground. Your hands around his neck and bodies pressed together.
“Life was dreadful without you! Daisy is fine, the cold didn’t last long. Ada and Jon got married and you weren’t there! Miss Cicely has another suitor, the girl will never marry, she is too picky! And yes, it’s a little annoying. Of course, I kept the library clean, what have you got me for? No, I didn’t read anything and …” you stopped to catch your breath, but you didn’t have chance to finish your speech. Marks lips locked yours in kiss and you surrendered.
“And I missed you terribly,” you finished when he ended the kiss. So, with a smile you reached for another.
***
Several months later
“Honey! It’s here,” you called. He looked at you and smiled.
“Come on. Open it! Hurry!” you practically danced. He carefully removed the wrapping paper and took the book out.
“Letters to my wife by M.T.,” he read the title.
“It’s beautiful! Look at it,” you beamed as he held the small book in his hands. The title was gold and the book itself was dark blue.
“I’m so proud of you. Your new book! Without the difficult worlds,” you laughed.
“But full of love,” said Mark and placed a kiss on your forehead.
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Punk!Jaskier x Reader, Punk!Geralt x Punk!Yennefer
Word Count: 1509
Rating: T
Taglist: @nevadawolfe @magic-multicolored-miracle @coffee-and-stories
a/n: A little bit on the short side, but I had fun getting my toes wet with the group interactions. Part three will be coming by @ficsandcatsandficsandcats soooon. :3
[ Part I ]
Part II - Out Here in the Field
Trees flew by the window, the spaces between them obscured by a wispy layer of fog stubbornly clinging to the ground despite the weak rays of sunlight beginning to stream through the clouds. Stirring, you stretched, careful not to jostle Jaskier, asleep against your shoulder and snoring softly. Stifling a yawn with your fist you let your gaze roam the van, quiet but for the steady breathing of sleep and the low music playing in the background.
Everyone was still asleep and it took you a moment to realize Geralt was no longer in the driver’s seat. Instead Aevryn’s telltale wild locks were just visible over the headrest, her fingers drumming a beat against the worn leather of the steering wheel in time with the soft music she was listening to, singing under her breath.
The song was unfamiliar to you and you closed your eyes to listen, not wanting to intrude on the moment. The man’s voice that weaved through the speakers accompanied by the mellow cords of an acoustic guitar was haunting and beautiful, the lyrics compelling and poetic in a different way from Jaskier’s, but still you found you enjoyed it.
You were just about to ask Aev who the musician was when a pothole in the road shocked the van and Jaskier jerked awake.
“What th--?” he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly, his chestnut hair sticking up where he’d been leaning against your shoulder, blinking blearily as it took him a couple seconds to regain his bearings.
You caught a flash of Aevryn’s frantic expression, eyes wide in the rear view mirror before the song cut off suddenly, switching to something different.
“Geralt, what the fu--” Jaskier began, ready to lay into who he thought was driving when he noticed it was Aevryn in the front seat. “Aev?” he yelped in confusion, glancing back at Geralt in the back seat; sawing logs.
“When did --?” he shook his head and began again. “More to the point, Geralt actually let you drive?”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Aevryn asked, eyes narrowing in the mirror as you fought to stifle a laugh.
You glanced at Jaskier who opened his mouth before apparently thinking better of it and closing it promptly, throwing you a ‘help me’ look.
Bemused smile firmly in place, you shook your head, the message clear -- ‘you’re on your own on this one’, to which Jaskier’s jaw fell open as he clutched dramatically at his heart.
“I’ll have you know Geralt trusts me implicitly,” Aevryn announced from the front seat, the mischievous grin tugging at her lips somewhat spoiling her self-important tone. “He said I’m the only one he trusts enough to drive his little Roachie.”
“I never said that.” Geralt’s voice interrupted from the back seat and you and Jaskier quickly turned to glance at him, his eyes still firmly closed and arms crossed against his chest. “You just happened to be the only one awake at the time and as soon as I get a little more sleep I’m taking back over. And don’t call her that. It’s Roach.”
A moment of silence passed before you, Jaskier, and Aevryn were all gasping with laughter; the scowl that twisted Geralt’s lips only making you laugh harder.
——
Nearly an hour later, everyone was awake and Aev announced that you’d just entered Ohio, pulling off the highway at a roadside diner for lunch.
Piling into the large corner booth, you picked up the menu, scanning the usual diner fare, deciding easily on a burger and fries while Win gasped, her eyes going wide as she stared at you.
“We’re in Ohio right?”
“Yeah,” Jaskier answered, giving your best friend a puzzled look, but you knew right away what she was getting at, rolling your eyes.
“You have to get the skyline chili,” she exclaimed, shaking the menu. “We’re in Ohio,” she repeated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Jaskier, Geralt, Yennefer, and Aevryn all looked to you for an explanation of your friend’s eccentric behaviour as you remembered they weren’t from the US. Clearing your throat after getting your giggles under control you adopted your most pedantic voice in order to explain to the Brits that skyline chili was merely chili over a bed of spaghetti noodles, but that it was a quote Ohio Thing unquote.
Win groaned at your explanation, shaking her head in faux seriousness.
“It’s not just any old chili, it’s an experience,” she exclaimed dramatically. “There are some that say there’s chocolate in the secret recipe which gives it its distinct sweet flavour.”
Jaskier raised his eyebrows at you and you snorted. “She’s originally from Ohio,” you explained, bumping against his shoulder, “it’s a comfort food thing.”
“Ah, now that I can understand,” your boyfriend said with a grin. “I’ll try it, why not?” Jaskier shrugged and Aev ordered it as well for the “experience”.
“I think I’ll pass,” Yennefer replied, looking unimpressed before ordering something else while Geralt “hmm’d”.
As you waited on the food everyone kind of dissolved into their own little pockets of conversations, and while Jaskier was engaged in a debate with Yen over the set list order you figured it was as good a time as any to ask Aevryn about that music from earlier.
“Hey Aev, what was that band you were listening to this morning? I kinda dug it.”
Aevryn, in the midst of taking a drink, choked in surprise, the same deer in headlights look crossing her face as her eyes flicked first from Jask to Yennefer in rapid succession before returning to you.
“I didn’t realize anyone was awake,” she muttered ruefully. “It’s just this indie musician that I listen to sometimes,” she said offhandedly, shrugging. “None of the others really care for it, so…” she trailed off, blanching as Yennefer eyed her sharply.
Confused as to why that would seem to upset Yen so much you opened your mouth, ready to ask a follow up question when the waitress returned with the food, and Aevryn promptly shoveled a forkful of chili and noodles in her mouth, effectively cutting the conversation short, though Yen still eyed her suspiciously.
Jaskier, completely oblivious to the whole exchange perked up as his plate was set before him. “Want a bite?” he asked, twirling spaghetti around his fork and offering it to you. Grinning, you held his gaze as you took the pro-offered bite, covering your mouth with your hand as the chili smeared across your lips.
Wriggling his eyebrows at you Jaskier took the next bite and proceeded to make a show of chewing slowly as if deliberating.
“Hey Win,” he called across the table to your friend. “Not bad!”
——
Back on the road with Geralt once more at the helm everyone fell back into comfortable silence, full and sleepy, the quiet broken only by the random urges to sing along to the music from time to time. Until Jaskier sat up, blue eyes lighting up at something on his phone.
“Hey Geralt, I have an idea!” he called excitedly.
“No.”
“Oh, c’mon it’s just a teeny tiny detour,” Jaskier whined, and curious, you sat up, leaning into his shoulder to see what he had up on his phone. It was an advertisement for this nearby eclectic road-side attraction, some sort of homespun local museum and it actually looked interesting.
You read the description aloud to dramatic ‘oooh’s’ and ‘ahhh’s’ from Aev and Win in the back seat, who both seemed in on the fun as well.
“Please Geralt, it’s really not that far out of the way,” Jaskier pleaded, leaning forward to grab the driver’s seat. “If we’re going this road trip we ought to do it right, don’t you think? I want to experience America, not just see it from the highway.”
Geralt sighed and turned to share a look with Yennefer. “Oh why not?” she finally said, her lips twisting with amusement at Geralt’s momentary shock.
“Fine,” he bit out. “Give me the directions.”
A half hour later you were completely lost and the sun was beginning to go down.
“I think we may have passed it…” Jaskier said weakly, “at some… point.”
“Oh come on you guys,” you said, trying to salvage the situation; not wanting the two friends to fight any longer, and not being able to stand seeing your boyfriend look so dejected. “Hey look at that field over there, why don’t we stop there for a bit to watch the sun go down and figure out where we are?” you suggested.
To your surprise Geralt didn’t protest, pulling off the road into the abandoned field, and throwing Roach into park.
“Okay, everyone out.”
“Brilliant idea babe,” Jaskier murmured in your ear as you unbuckled, his lips brushing against your cheek.
“I know,” you quipped, turning to catch his lips on yours, taking him by surprise before jumping out of the van, laughter pouring from your lungs as he lunged after you.
Summary: Good vs Bad, Right vs Wrong...the Winchester Brothers are going to war. A collaboration challenge exploring opposite scenarios with the two brothers.
Rating: 18+
Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader
Tags: Angst, fluff, smut, AU Sam, AU Dean, all parts will be tagged accordingly so please make note before you read.
A/N: This is a collaboration challenge with my bestie @negans-lucille-tblr! We are heading into battle! And we need YOUR input! Each week, we will alternate Winchester brothers and you will choose via poll between two opposite scenarios for us to write about. We are so excited to share this with you and to see who you will choose.
**COMING SOON**
Tag list for this series is OPEN. However please note: As this is a collaborative series, this is a shared taglist so if you send a request to either me or Bee, you will be tagged by both of us.
d i s c l a i m e r : i do not own the rights to the idea from the book of “hush, hush”. the OC characters belong to me, and the ideas are mine.
p a i r i n g : gwilym lee x female!reader
w a r n i n g s : violence, drinking, smoking, domestic abuse, sexual assault
s u m m a r y : a guardian angel protects their assigned human, so when gwilym lee is assigned you, he’s more attentive than he used to be with the previous humans he was assigned to.
A/N: My chapter for @luci-in-trenchcoats collab series! Thank you for letting me take part :)
Since I’ve Been Loving You Masterlist
Previously in part 6...
The flashlight app on Gordon’s phone lit up the room and you were right. You checked the drain, but your arms were not long enough to retrieve the firing mechanisms from your weapons. You would have to make do with what you had scavenged from the former prison guard. The shotgun was bulky, but you were able to slip it down the back leg of your jeans. You hid the blade inside your bra and were glad you had more than just a metal nail file to defend Dean and yourself.
The phone buzzed in your pocket; a message from Sam. You sighed in relief when you read his three simple words; 5 minutes out.
You checked on Dean to make sure he was still breathing. It was shallow, as was his pulse, but to the untrained hand, it would be undetectable. You whispered your thoughts in his ear. Even though he couldn’t hear you, you needed to speak the words in case one, or both of you didn’t survive.
You rose to your feet, fear replaced by rage and determination and you stalked to the bottom of the grimy stairs.
“Crowley!” you howled from the pit. “Let’s finish this!”
Your heart sunk no sooner than the words left your lips, you could hear the scurry of footsteps in the room above, but way more than just one set of feet.
“Shit…” you hissed to yourself, hastily trying to wrack your brains as you glanced around the room.
Just need to buy five minutes until the cavalry arrive…
You grab for the shotgun on your person and take aim at the door at the top of the stairs. The moment you noticed any movement on the door handle you fired. The bullets blasted and burst into shrapnel which scorched through the old wood.
“Give it up!” You threatened, lining up a second shot, “You’ve lost Crowley! It’s over!”
“Is it?” his coarse British voice echoed on the other side of the door, “I know for a fact you’ve only got one shot left in that gun, and no ammunition.”
You winced at the reality of his words. You gritted your teeth and stood stubborn and strong, “It only takes one to take you down!”
“What about the other five of us?” Crowley tittered, “So you’re right, it is over! For you.”
You feel a small lump of anxiety form in your throat. It threatens to shake you, but you swallow it down with a grimace. There was no time to panic, you could hear the thud of footsteps approaching the door again, and decided to conceal yourself.
You found a shadowy corner, balling yourself up behind a dusty crate. To your advantage, there were a few shadowy little cubby holes like this you could have chosen from, so you hoped luck would be on your side and this one wouldn’t be their first to check.
You ducked from sight when you saw Crowley, surrounded by his band of thugs and all armed to the teeth as they cockily strolled down the stairs.
“Ugh,” Crowley scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I do hate Hide and Seek.”
With a wave of his hand, he signals his men to start searching the room. You held your breath in your spot as your eyes fell briefly on Dean, who still laid limp and unconscious where you’d left him. You feel your heart begin to thud harder and faster as Crowley started to approach him. Your jaw trembled with anger and pain as you watched the madman kick Dean’s unconscious body hard in the chest.
“Well, what do you know…” Crowley sang with joy, “You weren’t kidding were you, darling! Dead. As. A. Doornail.”
Your eyes stung and filled up as Crowley timed hard boots to Dean’s chest with every word he spoke.
You shook your head, you knew you had to stay focused and keep buying time until Sam and the others arrived. You couldn’t let your emotions get the better of you. It was easier said than done though. Whilst you sat in your quiet corner biding your time, panic flooded your mind. Worried that your actions by coming out alone may now get you and Dean killed. More anxiety at the thought of Sam and the others also getting killed when they arrive. You made this mess. You had to try and fix it.
Taking a short sharp breath, you tried to compose yourself again, before you could do anything you had to get rid of the involuntary trembling. You will yourself to look up again, taking long quiet breaths as your eyes scanned around. Two of Crowley’s men were far from you, on the opposite side of the room searching, another one stayed hovering around the mouth of the stairwell and the other two were near you, but had their backs to you. You ducked back down again, planning your approach. You gripped the shotgun tightly in one hand, the other snaking under your shirt to grab the knife you hid on yourself.
You take position, holding your feet in the right stance to pounce as you faced your target. Your heart thudded with adrenaline and fear, but you had to ignore it. You had to make sure you and Dean made it out of here alive. To do that, you needed Crowley’s attention off of Dean.
You leapt forward, swiftly reaching your destination as your brought the knife up to your target’s throat. While he froze, stunned momentarily you brought up the shotgun next to his hip and fired at his none the wiser buddy nearby. You tossed the shotgun before his body could even hit the ground, turning your attention back to your hostage, skillfully swiping the pistol from the hand he waved around manically and aiming it at a bemused Crowley.
“Enough,” you uttered lowly, digging the sharp edge of the knife into your human shield’s neck as you stepped forward, “It’s. Over.”
“Darling,” Crowley smirked, nodded his head with a pouted lip, “I’ve got to admit I’m mildly impressed. But there’s still four of mine and only one of you.”
Before you can react, the sound of gunfire filled the room. Whilst talking Crowley had slipped his hand inside his jacket, retrieving a concealed pistol which he fired in your direction. You thought at first he’d missed, until a sudden wash of white-hot pain coursed through your shoulder. Crowley’s shot had torn clean through the man you held defensively, and into you.
You fell back from the momentum with a small cry of pain, colliding harshly with the cold ground. You winced in pain and gasped for the breath as you watch the man who took the brunt of the bullet, fall dead to your side.
“Oh…” Crowley shrugged, “Make that three of mine now.”
You could feel your energy draining as you slowly bled out, watching Crowley’s feet take steps towards you. He kneels down, a twisted smile painted on his face as he watched you pant and gasp for breath.
Dammit… you thought to yourself as your eyes suddenly met with the barrel of his gun, ...I’m sorry Dean.
You heard the familiar bang of gunfire, but it wasn’t as loud as you expected it to be. You’d clenched your eyes tight, but decided to take a quick peek when you realized your face hadn’t been blown off.
Crowley was on the ground before you, writhing in agony and holding his leg which bled profusely. The other three of his men were scrambling and fighting against some other figures which had appeared in the room. Your vision became foggy as you continued to lose blood and the sounds around you grew into white noise and echoes.
Somewhere amongst them, you could have sworn you heard someone shout “Police!”.
Sam?
Beeping. You could hear a repetitive, monotonous beeping. Your eyes felt heavy and aching as you forced them open. The light was bright and sharp, not helped by the bright beige and clinical surroundings. You were in a hospital, and damn did you have a large number of bandages wrapped all around you.
“Morning,” the first voice you wanted to hear greeted you. Your heart skipped an injured beat as you realized Dean was with you. He was sat in the chair next to your bed, also adorning a matching hospital gown and IV drip.
“Dean,” you smiled, voice slightly croaky from not being used, “You’re okay.”
“Yeah,” he laughed sheepishly, “I’m told you had a small hand in that.”
“Very small,” you scoffed, squinting your eyes in guilt, “I screwed up Dean...I nearly got us both killed.”
“You tracked Crowley down,” Dean held your hand reassuringly, “Took two of his men outta the equation alone, and bought us enough time to survive and catch Crowley alive. Now he can face justice.”
“We got lucky, Sam and the others are the ones that got us out of there” you sighed, shaking your head and squeezing his hand tight, “That was too close, and I should have handled it better. I’m sorry.”
“I’m here trying to thank you and all you wanna do is apologize,” Dean laughed shaking his head and cupping your chin, “It doesn’t matter, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
You feel your cheeks flush, his words striking you with relief and nerves as he drew close to you, your lips mere millimeters apart. He stops, leaving the ball in your court to decide what happened next.
Isn’t it obvious?
You took what felt natural to you and leaned in, letting your mouths collide in one long embracing kiss. At first, it felt like your heart had jumped into your throat, but your nerves swiftly calmed as you relaxed and relished how natural and right this felt.
Your lips parted and you found yourself lost in his emerald eyes.
“Not bad Winchester,” you smirked in a tease.
“Not so bad yourself Y/L/N,” he bit his bottom lip in return.
You both laughed together, sharing one or two more sweet pecks before deciding to take on reality.
“I really should be letting someone know you’re up,” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes, “They‘ve been nagging to get a statement from ya for hours.”
“Well I do apologize for being unconscious,” you drawl sarcastically.
“I’m afraid you’re in for a long day of statements and questions,” Dean shrugged, looking at you sympathetically, “So I got you this, it’s the closest I can do to buying you dinner in here.”
He reached into a pocket and tossed a small red pack of jello onto your lap. You picked it up, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh my,” you chuckled, “How romantic.”
“I had limited options!” Dean protested with a laugh, “I promise, future dates will be a hella lot better than this.”
“Future dates huh?” you cocked your head curiously.
“Well yeah,” Dean flashed his best attempt at puppy eyes, “If you’ll have me?”
You smiled again, resisting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl, “I think you may have just twisted my arm, Winchester.”
Dean often asked Sam what he was up to when he found his brother bent over a notepad, furiously scribbling away in a dark corner of the library or underneath the dim lamp in their motel. Sam never said for sure, played it off like he was just doing research, just taking notes. But Dean knew something was up.
Later, once they’d had a place to call their own, Sam kept a shoe box underneath his bed. It was just a plain gray box with a lid, nothing special, but he kept it safe. Sometimes Dean would spy him looking through the box, sifting through envelopes and scraps of paper. Sometimes Sam would smile as he looked them over, sometimes cry. Sometimes he would take one out and hold it to his chest, breathing deep, eyes closed, remembering.
Dean never asked him what was in the box, hell, everyone needed a secret, and if Sammy’s was a box full of old letters, who was Dean to judge? Could be worse, had been worse.
