He looked up to see you standing in the doorway, already in your pajamas which just happened to be one of his old t-shirts. Sam had gone to bed hours ago.
"Aren't you coming to bed?" you asked him, your forehead creased a little.
"I'm not tired," Dean sighed. "I'll be fine. I should keep working on this."
You stepped farther into the room. The floor was cold on your bare feet and the gentle padding sound of your steps echoed softly. "But if you don't," you said, stopping behind him and looping your arms around his neck, "I'll be so lonely without you. Come lay with me so I can feel whole again and fall asleep," you murmured. Your body leaned in against his and you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
Dean sighed and his eyes closed, but he couldn't help smiling. His hand rested lightly on your forearm. "Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?" he chuckled.
"Maybe," you hummed, kissing his neck. "Is it working?"
Dean laughed again. "Yes. Yes, it is."
"Oh, good," you breathed against his skin, and Dean could hear that you were smiling.
"Question..." Dean said softly. "You wearing anything else under that Metallica t-shirt?"
Now, it was your turn to laugh. "Why don't you come to bed and find out?"
"Oh, I'm definitely finding out," he said, pushing back from the table and turning just in time to see you scampering away toward the bedroom, biting your bottom lip.
Let's face it, his henley looks good on both of you...
Pairing: Dean x F. Reader
Word Count: 935
Warnings: Nothing but a little good old-fashioned sexual tension, no smut, but Dean being Dean is a warning in itself 🔥🔥🔥 (Dividers by the absolutely lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics )
The tile floor is cool on your bare feet as you walk down the hall, your mind focused on the banana pudding left in the fridge from earlier tonight. If you can’t fall asleep, you might as well eat, right?
It’s kind of nice in the bunker when everyone else is in bed, only the dim light from the night lights that are always on in all the common rooms, the quiet hum of some mysterious machinery in the background, whatever it is that keeps the power on in this place. You shiver a little, the air cool on your legs. Why bother with pants when nobody else is around, anyway?
You’re halfway through the library on your way to the kitchen when Dean’s voice makes you nearly jump out of your skin, your heart pounding hard as you whirl around to face him. He’s standing across the room, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand, his eyes shadowed in the half-dark. “Is that my shirt?”
“Damn it, Dean, you scared the living shit out of me!” you scold, your hand on your chest, trying to keep your heart from pounding its way free. “Why are you up? I thought you went to bed a couple of hours ago!”
An amused smile curves his lips. “Backatcha, sweetheart.”
“Well – I – I couldn’t go to sleep. So I wanted a snack.”
“Yeah, well, same here, and I wanted a drink. Mystery solved.” It’s slowly dawning on you that you’re half-dressed, and you feel the blush move up your neck, your cheeks warming as he stares you down. “You never answered me. Is that my shirt?”
You’re wearing a cream-colored henley that you may or may not have stolen – borrowed – when you were doing laundry last weekend. It’s so soft, and so big (because it’s his) and comfy, and yes, if you were being honest, you like wearing it because it belongs to him. It’s been against his skin. And you would deny that even under threat of torture.
“Yes, okay, I borrowed your shirt. And just for your information, I wouldn’t have come out here like this if I knew you were lurking around.”
“I’m not lurking. And just for your information, I don’t mind you coming out here like that.” In fact, he’s thoroughly enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. It’s soft, and it’s clinging just right to show every detail of the curves beneath – not to mention your perky nipples. No, he doesn’t really mind at all.
You can see his eyes sparkle even in the poor lighting, and you hope he can’t see your blush from where he’s standing. “Well, stop staring.” You turn your back and flounce from the room, heading to the kitchen and hoping with everything in you that the henley is covering your ass. You brush your hand back there, relieved that it is – barely – and walk resolutely to the fridge. Seriously, what the hell is he doing up, anyway?
You take the container and toss the lid into the sink, grabbing a spoon from the nearby drawer, and lean against the counter, taking a spoonful of the creamy treat and closing your eyes as it hits your tongue. So good. Totally worth a little embarrassment.
“So, you gonna share, or what?” You jump, startled again glaring up at him as he approaches.
“For fuck’s sake, Dean, could you wear a bell or something?” A thoroughly devilish grin flashes for a second, but he manages to rein it in quickly. You scoop another spoonful of the pudding, but he takes your hand in his and steers it up towards his mouth. You watch as he takes it in, those sinful lips closing around it and his eyes blinking slowly as he savors it with a soft hum. You feel your legs wobble a little, and things are clenching that should not be clenching just from watching someone eat banana pudding.
“That’s good.” He lets go of your hand, and after a couple of seconds you actually remember to take it back. You force your eyes down, but now the view is his shoulders and chest underneath another henley from his collection, this one a midnight blue, and he’s wearing sweats and his feet are bare. And you are hopelessly screwed. “Thought you were hungry,” he teases as you stand there with the empty spoon in the air, trying to remember how to breathe.
“I am – I was,” you stammer.
“Then why aren’t you eating?” He laughs softly at your defiant frown.
“Because you’re distracting me.”
“You started it.” You stare up at him, your eyes wide.
“Since when do you get distracted by me? You barely even notice me.”
“Shows how much you know.” You still stare at him skeptically, and he gnaws a bit at that plush lower lip before he continues. “Every night I walk by your door and I picture in my head what you might be wearing to bed. Some nights… well, let’s just say I really wanna open that door.”
You set the container of pudding and the spoon on the counter beside you, never taking your eyes off him. “Then why haven’t you?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid you’ll tell me to get lost.”
You’re starting to smile now. “You know what they say, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”
Dean steps up close, his hand moving to stroke over your shoulder and down, curling his fingers around your arm as he leans in, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Oh, sweetheart – I don’t miss.”
Destiel AU: Dean works in a tattoo shop near a college and College Castiel comes in for a tattoo with a dash of flirty, cute fun moments
So have a little tipsy!Cas and gross overuse of tattoos as an excuse to flirt ;)
~
inked, 2.5k
Castiel had never really given much thought to tattoos. He supposed he considered them interesting, cool in a way that was for looking, not doing. The way that birds were cool for flying, or Gabriel was cool for trying flaming rum shots. But all of a sudden Cas was extremely, emphatically interested in tattoos. Well, one tattoo. Namely the dark shape creeping up towards the collarbone of the very attractive guy currently crowding into his personal space, trying to lean over the busy bar to retrieve his beer from the harried woman on the other side.
His elbow caught Cas’s shoulder on its way down, sloshing foam over the edges of the glass, but Cas was too busy trying to make sense of the wavy black peaks to really care and the bartender didn’t even glance twice at the mess of beer on the counter. The weary wood of the local student watering hole was basically polished with the stuff anyway.
“Sorry buddy,” Tattoo Guy said, turning to him with brief concern.
Sorry wasn’t the right word, Cas thought in a daze as he caught his apologetic smile, you’re welcome would be more like it. But Tattoo Guy tossed a few bills (avoiding the spill, at least) and disappeared before Cas could say anything so strange. Small blessings, probably.
He grabbed his tray of shots for the table and shuddered as he thought about what kind of battery acid Gabe was bound to order a round of next.
~
Castiel’s next conversation with Tattoo Guy was much more eloquent, he’d like to think. Or the tequila would like to think.
Somehow Cas had found his way over to a quieter section of the counter where the guy had pulled up a stool (wait that’s right, Anna had pushed him), and was dragging another over to sit beside him. Despite the strumming guitar and drums still vibrating low through the bar, the metal legs made quite a racket, and Tattoo Guy watched over the lip of his glass with something like amusement.
“Need a refill, or just some ice for that shoulder?” He gave a crooked smile, nodding toward the arm he’d hit earlier.
“What’s your tattoo?” Cas replied, not abruptly at all, thank you.
For a guy named Tattoo Guy, he really looked surprised at the question, Cas thought, but he recovered quickly and set his glass down. His eyes tracked Cas’s fingers as he gestured to the spot on his own chest where he’d seen the shape. Hesitating just a moment before, he pulled back the collar of his t-shirt slowly to reveal a star surrounded by a circle of black waves. Cas leaned in for a better look, teetering rather dangerously on his stool.
“It’s a protective sigil,” Tattoo Guy explained. He released his collar to let the fabric stretch back into place over the symbol, only one dark corner still peeking out like the tip of a crescent moon behind a cloud.
“Protection from what?” Cas swayed back in his seat.
“Oh, you know, keeps me safe from all sorts of nasties,” he said, just a hint of a suggestive wink. “But mostly from demonic possession.”
The amusement was back, along with a more challenging glint in his eye, as if he was daring Castiel to ask whether or not he was joking. Cas leaned an elbow on the counter to rest his chin, staring at the dull wood with his brows furrowed as if in very serious thought about what the guy had just told him, before meeting his gaze with a grave look.
“Does it work on tequila?”
Tattoo Guy barked out a laugh, grinning broadly and slapping a hand on his knee. It was a nice laugh, blending deep with the bass that drifted from the stereos, a nice grin, shining in the dim lights and neon, and Cas wanted to catch them in a bottle and keep drinking all night.
“Would be nice, wouldn’t it.” The guy eyed how heavily Cas was leaning on the counter. “You could use one too in that case, I’d bet.”
“The only demons I need protection from are my friends,” Cas replied, nodding toward the table of his fellow seniors on the far side of the room, who were doing an excellent job pretending they weren’t gawping at them and were definitely not making a scene. He rolled his eyes, but the motion just served to remind him how unsteady his position on the stool was as his whole upper body nearly followed suit.
“Can’t say it would help with that either,” said Tattoo Guy. “But that’s what you’ve got the classics for… Nothing gets people to back off like a big ol’ biker tat. Get some barbed wire on the neck, skulls on the biceps, your pals won’t even bother to set you up anymore.”
It was Cas’s turn to laugh, though he was becoming distracted by the fingers on his arm where Tattoo Guy was lightly scoping out the real estate for his new ink.
“True. My bumblebee tat doesn’t do much by way of intimidation.”
“Now that I’ve gotta see,” Tattoo Guy was grinning again. It was magnetic, the smile, the touch, the pulse behind the dark shape on his chest, and he wanted more. Sober Cas, who knew he was about to make a fool of himself, and Tequila Cas, who was still staring at the other man’s lips, began to arm wrestle furiously over his next words.
“Well, it’s not in a place I make a habit of showing off in public,” Cas said, angling forward again to look up through his lashes. “But maybe you could see it later.”
Sober Cas was rolling his damn eyes and groaning at his antics, but Tattoo Guy was anything but. His eyes darkened to reflect his ink, stars and waves in the pinpricks of light from behind the bar, and he pressed a knee against Cas’s.
“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
Bingo. Cas leaned further, this time to see if he could trail his fingers over that collarbone and trace the edges of the tattoo that had drawn him across the bar. He had a feeling it was only the pre-show, and Tattoo Guy’s knowing smile wasn’t denying it. His hand brushed over his shirt, his fingertips dragging across the fabric and then—
And then he was falling.
And then he was flat on his face, cheek stuck to the disgusting wood and bits of peanut shells, a dull pain buzzing somewhere near his nose for poor Sober Cas to deal with later. Next thing he knew Tattoo Guy was kneeling beside him murmuring something, hands hovering uncertainly over his back, and smaller arms were pulling him up from his other side.
“Oookay then, time to go home,” Anna was saying, clearly torn between stifled laughter and genuine concern for Cas’s wellbeing as she draped his arm over her shoulder. He could hear Balthazar wheezing from all the way across the room, and he groaned.
“I’m fine, I’m not that drunk,” he protested, and he really wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault that gravity decided to work overtime tonight, honestly. Tattoo Guy looked relieved that he was okay, but Anna wasn’t swayed.
“Yeah, yeah flyboy, this is all part of the elaborate mating ritual,” she replied, tightening her arm around his side and steering him towards the door with an apologetic look toward Cas’s would-be partner for said ritual.
He peered back over his shoulder to see Tattoo Guy settling back onto his stool, giving him one last half smile and a little salute.
Well. At least the tequila shots hadn’t been flaming.
~
Cas was thinking about tattoos all the time, now. Despite his embarrassing sidebar into skydiving practice (even weeks later, Gabriel and Balthazar were still taking turns flinging themselves from chairs in dramatic reenactments of Castiel’s nosedive), he really had been interested in that tattoo. Cas had taken to musing idly about what he would inscribe on his own skin if given the chance. Maybe some sort of lyric or passage, an animal… maybe a symbol for strength or protection, like the guy had.
The guy. Cas was rather disappointed that Anna had pulled him away before he could even get his name, let alone a number. But if she hadn’t, Tequila Cas would have probably done something even stupider and dragged him to get matching ink right then and there, so all’s well he supposed.
Cas was shaken from his thoughts, one afternoon, about the tattoo and about the guy (but mainly the tattoo, he lied), when he found himself wandering past the edge of campus. He’d had the vague idea to grab a cup of coffee before heading home, finished with classes for the day, but as he peered down the street in search of a telltale board embossed with some kind of steaming mug, his eyes fell only on one sign. A jagged pentagram with letters at the center spelling Purgatory Ink.
Well… it couldn’t hurt to take a look, could it? He didn’t seem to make a decision one way or another before he was pulling the door open to the soft tinkling of a bell. A skinny guy at the reception desk looked up with a friendly wave.
“Howdy!” he said, voice bright. “Welcome in, I’m Garth. You got an appointment?”
Right. People didn’t usually just walk in for permanent body alterations. Did they?
“No, no sorry,” said Cas uncertainly. “I was hoping to maybe… browse.”
Did people browse in tattoo parlors? Cas was already out of his element, but Garth just gave him a goofy smile and pulled out a thick binder from behind the desk.
“Feel free to take a look! We’ve got some great artists, mainly custom work but they’ll do flashes if you see somethin’ in those first couple pages. Dean and Meg are here today, but you could get an appointment with Benny later this week too.”
Cas nodded, trying to absorb the information, and took the book. Settling in one of the waiting chairs, he rifled through the pages with interest. Benny’s work seemed to be mostly animals and nature scenes (some rather violent designs with fangs and blood, he noted), Meg’s work was downright scary (had she actually seen some of these demons?), but Dean’s. His designs were beautiful. Mythical creatures and symbols, ranging from delicately minimalist characters to intricate designs snaking their way across entire backs and shoulders. A sense of humor, too, Cas almost laughed out loud when he came upon an absurd design of a Sasquatch in a barber’s gown.
He was pulled from the book as he heard Garth hang up a phone and call to the backroom, “Winchester, your 4:30 just rescheduled, so you’ve got a break.”
“Awesome,” sounded a man’s voice, coming closer as he entered the room. Cas looked up and his eyes widened, finding his own open-mouthed expression mirrored (mirrored less stupidly, he was sure) by none other than Tattoo Guy.
Tattoo Guy (Artist Guy?) recovered first, and beamed with apparent delight. “Well I’ll be damned. How’s the uhh…”
He trailed off, gesturing to his nose. Cas felt his cheeks coloring, but he managed what he hoped resembled a self-deprecating smirk.
“Ah, you know. You should’ve seen the other guy.”
Garth glanced between them with curiosity.
“Hey Deano, your buddy here…” He looked to Cas with a slight frown.
“Castiel,” he said.
“Castiel here could probably use some help figuring out a design. Since you’re freed up now, why don’t you take him back for a consultation?” Either Garth always sounded this sweetly innocent, or he was up to something, but Cas didn’t care as he nodded along.
The other man grinned. “Yeah, alright, come on this way.”
“So you’re Dean,” Cas said, following him down the hall toward a small backroom with chairs and what looked to be more portfolios strewn over a table. “I’ve been calling you Tattoo Guy in my head.”
Dean winked as he took a seat and gestured to the one across the table. “Well, Cas, I’ve been calling you Faceplant Guy.”
Cas refused to let his face heat again, so he batted his eyes right back.
“And here I was hoping you’d been calling me Bumblebee Tramp Stamp.”
God, Dean’s laugh was even better here, layered over the muffled thrum of classic rock playing in what Cas assumed was the studio.
“Is that what you’re looking to get today?”
“I was thinking something a little more dignified, but I’m not entirely sure what that would be,” Cas said. “To be honest, I was mostly inspired by the one you’ve got here.”
Cas pointed to his collarbone again, watching with fascination as Dean’s swagger gave way to something unsure, almost bashful. He didn’t understand how someone so clearly skilled could get red around the ears at a simple compliment, so he continued his point.
“I was admiring your artwork in the book out front, too,” he said. “And I hadn’t even known you’d designed those. I think I might like something you come up with.”
Definitely bashful, now. Dean rubbed the back of his neck and gave a shy smile as he replied, “Can do. Well, maybe a protective symbol for you too? Something custom, so I’ve gotta know what we’re guarding you from.”
Cas considered. What was he afraid of? Failing classes, losing his friends, disappointing his family. Snakes. Losing himself in a job he hates and watching eternity go by without him as he falls through time, slow and empty. Wow, he was not about to ruin the mood.
“What would you protect me from?” he asked instead.
Dean looked thoughtful for a long moment. He leaned forward, chin in his hands as he carefully examined Castiel. Cas could practically feel Dean’s eyes as they traced along his jaw, brushed over his flyaway hair, and he had to suppress a shiver when they finally locked on his gaze.
“I think I know just the thing,” he said, pulling over a notebook and pen. “Just give me a sec.”
Cas watched as he drew, his rough-looking hands surprisingly graceful as they swept in wide arcs over the sheet. With the angle of the notebook, he couldn’t see the shapes growing from Dean’s steady gestures, but he could feel something alluring and peaceful bleeding from the pen and soaking into the paper, into his skin. He already knew he was going to want whatever Dean was drawing.
“Okay,” Dean announced after some time. “I think this is close.”
He tore the page out and presented it to Cas with a flourish. Laid across the paper was a beautiful symbol of angel wings, the edges flaring out to form an elegant circle of feathers. Ancient lettering was inscribed between the plumage, powerful and mysterious, but somehow familiar all the same. Cas looked up, breath taken, and Dean’s expression brightened with a mischievous grin.
“Your very own anti-gravity, fall-safe protective sigil. Good against tequila, bar stools, disarming smiles, you name it.”
Cas couldn’t help but laugh right back, open and full.
“It’s perfect.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tag list: @expectingtofly, @chubnubster, @prayedtoyou, @deservetobesaved, @all-or-nothing-baby
Tag list is open, just drop me a line if you liked this and want to be added!
Summary: Sam informs you that Dean’s suffering from temporary memory loss and has forgotten you. Yet, when you meet your boyfriend, it isn’t the cold eyes of a stranger that meets yours.
Triggers: Memory Loss, but mainly just fluff
Y/N = Your name | Y/H/C = Your eye colour
Read Part 1 Here
---
“Hey Sammy, I was just remembering that time you…”
Dean was sitting on the bed, looking perfectly healthy as he turned with sparkling green eyes to throw a mischievous grin at his brother. The smile dropping slightly, together with the rest of his sentence, as his eyes focused on you instead of the brother he’d been expecting. Any other day, that smile would have been growing warmer, brighter, instead of fading away once his eyes met yours.
As memories of past smiles, ones that the hunter couldn’t remember, hit you, you had to dig your nails into your palm to keep from crying. Dean was the one suffering. Your tears wouldn’t help. Looking down at the ratty motel room carpet, you willed your tears to stay back. Promising them that you’d willingly let them soak your tattered soul, as long as they didn’t hurt your heart. Because that was what Dean Winchester was to you, your heart.
Yet, as you finally got the traitorous tears under control and looked up again, what met you wasn’t the fallen smile of a man confused by a stranger. Nor the empty eyes you’d expected him to have when looking at someone he had no connection to; like glancing at a passing stranger on the street.
No. It was something completely different.
His green eyes were wide and fully focused on you, instead of going to find Sammy behind you. And as you watched, frozen in place, a careful smile grew on silent full lips. His eyes brightening as he saw you, really saw you for the first time. Well… First time for him at least. The intangible warmth of his eyes on you was like an electric current. Waking up all your nerves from your numb pain as it sent waves of little pleasant pinpricks of heat through your body and into your heart.
Dean was looking at you. And not like you were just another stranger. He was looking at you like you were precious, important. Like he’d been lost until he found you. Dean Winchester was smiling at you, a warm smile filled with reverence and relief. Eyes wide in wonder, as if he’d just discovered some long sought out secret truth. As if you’d just shared the meaning of life with the man, by simply walking through a door.
Like you were still the meaning of his life.
You held your breath, unable to speak or even move further into the room. Frozen by the high voltage of Dean that was coursing through your body. Until Sam’s hand on your shoulder acted like your grounding, finally snapping you out of it as your eyes moved from the man in front of you to throw a sheepish nod hello in Castiel’s direction. Your muddled mind finally realising it wasn’t just Dean and you in the room. Pulling you back to earth from where you’d been momentarily lost in the endless shades of the emerald galaxy that was his brightly sparkling eyes.
“Dean, this is… Uh,” Sam’s voice came from behind you, his eyes going to you. A silent question lingering in them as he waited for you to introduce yourself.
However, before you could get a word out, Dean had jumped off the bed and, stumbling slightly over his feet, made it over to where you were standing. Clearly choosing to ignore his brother’s half-finished introduction as he grinned at you.
“Whoa, hey there,” Dean's voice was low and warm as he smiled in that way that made his soft eyes shine brighter, the heat from them burning into yours. That bright boyish smile coupled with the way his eyes crinkled at the corners easily doing dirty things to your mind and creating innocent girly butterflies in your stomach simultaneously. As if the entirety of your love story was flashing in front of your eyes, from innocent first crush to heated whispers shared among tangled sheets. The way he was looking at you, and that small wink that followed his words was threatening to tease a laugh out of you as you realised what was happening.
He wasn’t… Was he?
“Please tell me I know you too... Or at least that you’d like to get to know me,” Dean’s voice dropped a little lower as he murmured the words at you. Like a goddamn Casanova with amnesia. Yeah, that sealed the deal.
Dean Winchester, the cute dork, was flirting with you.
For a second you struggled between laughter and tears. The heartbreak that never came to fruition forcing you onto a roller-coaster of emotion as the adorable man in front of you waited, eyes hopeful where they focused on you. Your mind and body struggling to keep up with the quick shift as your heart went from numb to pounding and euphoria drowned your sorrows in giddy, girlish glee.
“You know me Dean,” You finally managed to push the words out with a roll of your thankfully still dry eyes and a soft smile, as you tried, and failed, at suppressing the blush that always betrayed how you felt for the hunter. Former thoughts of pained heartbreak fading away into nothing, as the beautiful man in front of you chased all the shadows away with his brightness. Hell, even not knowing who you were, Dean was still flirting with you, still smiling at you.
Of course. You should never have doubted your strong, stubborn soldier. Never doubted all the whispers of forever that he peppered your hair with whenever you were wrapped in his strong arms. Dean Winchester loved you. He was simply lost and trying to find the way back to you. Back home.
“I do? Lucky me,” The man in front of you looked younger as he beamed at you with boyish glee. Your eyes, perceptive after years of hunting, not missing the way he not-so-sneakily pumped his fist by his side in a childish display of victory.
His eyes were filled with wonder. Innocent and untainted by doubt as he realised, somewhere deep down, that he really did know you. Though he couldn’t remember you just yet. The bright smile only softened into something more provocative once they tore themselves away from your own goofy smile to take in the rest of you. Clearly the hunter had been as lost in your eyes as you’d been in his, if the lingering look that ghosted over your body was anything to go by. Like he was finally seeing all of you.
“Hey…” Dean sounded slightly breathless as he let his eyes linger on the shape of you. His tongue rolling over his bottom lip when he finally managed to tear his eyes off your body to look up at you throw slightly hooded eyes again. “Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?”
As the slightly corny pickup line left your momentarily forgetful boyfriend you couldn’t stop the surprised whisper of a chuckle that left you. The line just solidified that this really was your adorable dofus of a hunter.
No doubt about it. Dean Winchester was definitely flirting with you.
“My name is (Y/N), but you can call me tonight,” You shot back with a wink, easily playing his game right back at him. Just like you’d done countless times to the mix of mirth and exasperation from your friends and family.
In front of you, Dean’s viridescent eyes widened in surprised glee at your reply. His smile, if possible, beaming even brighter as he looked from you to Sam and back again. The unadulterated elation on his face nearly too much for your little heart to handle as the muscle was left to work overtime in your chest in a vain attempt to keep up. You bit your lip to keep from laughing out loud as every nerve in your body was tingling. Like you were drunk on his dorky endearing smile.
“Damn, Sammy! This girl’s awesome!” Dean, however, didn’t bother holding back his happy laughter as he looked over at Sam. Following his eyes to his brother, you turned to catch Sam’s eyes as well.
Watching the big guy suppress a laugh at the way his brother was acting. As the youngest Winchester’s eyes met with yours, wide in surprise and laughter, he silently asked, no, begged you, to keep this going for a while. To not let the cat out of the bag about who you were.
At least until the older hunter calmed down.
For Sam Winchester, it was just a way to get a laugh in at his older brother’s expense. For you however, it was a much more selfish thought that slipped into your mind once your eyes strayed from Sam and back to Dean.
The oldest hunter was just so damn adorable. And you couldn’t help but fall in love with him once more as he met you for the first time all over again. A little while wouldn’t hurt, plus, you had to break it to him gently. At least that’s how you justified it, as you allowed yourself just a bit longer to get drunk on the bubbly, tingly feelings this slightly forgetful and very cute version of your boyfriend was steadily supplying you with.
“I’m just answering back in-kind Winchester,” You spoke up instead of Sam, raising an eyebrow as you challenged the hunter head on. Yet, you couldn’t help but just smile warmly at the man in front of you as he turned his full attention back towards you. Missing memories or no, this was your Dean.
“Awesome,” Dean’s voice was low and awed when he finally found it again. His eyes fully back on you after momentarily focusing on his brother. The crooked smile that followed the single words tugging at your heartstrings just as Dean reached out and grabbed your hand, gently pulling at it to bring you further into the bright motel room.
“Sammy probably told you already, but I kinda lost my memory. Though I can’t for the life of me understand how I could ever forget about someone as…” Dean took a generous pause between words to drink you in once more, now that you were fully framed by the lights of the motel room. “... breath-taking, as you,” He finished, the breathless way the words left the hunter acting as evidence to back up his own words.
“You’ll remember everything soon Dean,” You said with a small sad smile as you watched the hunter in front of you. For a second you considered just coming out and telling him who you were. But before you could find the correct words to introduce yourself as his girlfriend, Dean spoke up again.
“I can’t wait that long. I need to know everything about you, right now,” The impatience shone through the raw look in his eyes as he watched you. Greedily etching every detail of you into his mind as he did.
“What’s your favourite song? Who’s better, Led Zeppelin or Pink Floyd? Oh! Have you met Baby?” The rapid-fire questions caught you unawares as your eyes widened in barely suppressed laughter at the choice of questions from the hunter.
You’d expected him to ask who he was to you right off the bat. But instead the hunter decided to find pleasure in getting to know you the old-fashioned way. Well… Slightly more rambled, you realised as the big man was eagerly waiting for your answers.
“Whoa there Winchester, let a girl grab a beer first before you start with the interrogation,” You chuckled, slipping your hand from his to walk over to the small motel kitchen and root through the fridge. Using the moment and added space to relearn how to breathe again, as Dean kept stealing yours away whenever you looked at him.
Yeah, there was no way your heart would survive the constant roller-coaster of Dean’s attention if you didn’t have something to drink first. Casting a quick look behind you, you noticed Cas and Sam quietly following you. Both boys only threw you a quick smile and glance, eyes brimming with laughter, your way before sinking down into the kitchen seats. Silently giving Dean and you a little bit of privacy by staying in the small kitchen nook at the other end of the room.
Letting your eyes slide past the two boys with a grateful smile you leaned down to grab an armful of beers from the fridge. Depositing a few on the table between two of your best friends in the entire world before heading back to the man that was your world. Two bottles in your hands as his eyes met yours, soft and warm with joy at your return. Like you hadn’t just been gone for a minute at most.
“So, which question was first again?” You smiled as you handed him the beer, sinking down on the edge of the bed and patting the space next to you. “Favourite song was it? Totally ‘Ramble On’,” You grinned, knowing the reaction that was coming before Dean even caught your words. Since it would be the same as the first time he realised you had so much in common.
“No way! That’s one of my favourites too,” The big dork grinned at you, touching the neck of his bottle to yours in a shared solidarity of good music and even better company. Still smiling as he raised the bottle to his lips.
---
For a while it was just a back and forth interrogation. As the hunter asked about your likes and dislikes, or other little things about you. Never going too deep into the core of your relationship. And as you watched his big hand tear at the bottle label, you finally realised why.
Dean Winchester was nervous.
He was afraid of what he’d learn was actually between you once he got around to it. Unwilling to risk facing rejection in case you turned out to be just a hunting buddy. And he clearly wasn’t fully ready to go there just yet.
So instead, you let him ask his questions. The butterflies in your stomach having a field day as you let them fly free every time Dean rewarded your words with a happy sigh and a goofy smile. Your boyfriend was slowly but surely getting to know you again as you shared little superficial tidbits with him, each of which was always greeted with happy smiles or surprised laughs.
“Wow (Y/N)... You’re my dream girl,” Dean said with another happy sigh when there was finally a break in the constant stream of questions. “I just wish I could remember…” He grimaced a little; worry tainting his own eyes as he looked over at you.
“Are you… Alright?” You asked, heart squeezing painfully at the unease on his features. Only realising that the worry painting his eyes a much darker green was a direct reaction to the pain in your own when you allowed yourself to fully feel it a millisecond after the question left you. Dean’s hand gently reached out, holding onto your hand as his eyes focused on yours. Putting all his energy into showing you the sincerity of his whispered words.
“I’m awesome. Even better now that you’re here in fact. My memory’s coming back slowly, and…”
As the soft smile reached your lips from the little hint of flirting he’d attempted to sneak in there, his own eyes brightened easily again. A slight mischievous edge to the upturned full lips. Clearly he’d decided to shift the topic back to happier things, to keep you smiling. Just like he always used to do when you were stuck in your own shadows of nightmares and bad hunts.
“Hey… So, I just relearned a ton of shit. Like, the fact that there’s angels,” Dean started back up again. His words were innocent enough, though you knew this was going somewhere, simply by the glint in his green eyes. Yet, you let it happen. Knowing the cheesy line would make you roll your eyes but finding the hunter too cute to care.
“So, are you an angel? ‘Cause… Hell, you’re so beautiful I forgot my pickup line,”
The mixed-up line and little jab at his own temporary memory loss caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. You laughed out loud, not just a chuckle or a breathy imitation of a laugh. For the first time since you heard about Dean’s accident from Sam, you properly laughed.
The way only Dean could make you laugh.
“Wow that laugh…” Dean whispered the words after nearly a minute of silence broken only by your soft laughter. His eyes wide with wonder and a careful warm smile of his own. The pure joy in his eyes making it seem as if you'd just performed a miracle, instead of just laughing with the man you loved.
“Hey, (Y/N)... How can I make you laugh again?”
“Why?” You said, the last remains of laughter still in your voice as you leaned your head a little to the side, throwing him a quizzical look.
“‘Cause that right there’s the most beautiful sound in the world,” His words were awed and honest when he finally found the breath to whisper them into the small space between you where you were seated on the edge of the motel bed. Hidden from Sammy, Cas and the rest of the world. These words were just for you.
The innocent and pure honesty in the awed whispers leaving your adorable amnesiac boyfriend squeezed at your heart as you blushed. Taking a second to find your voice again as you felt as if you’d somehow left your own body. Floating just by the ceiling in a soft bubble of Dean’s gentle, careful love and adoration.
“You, Dean Winchester, are a flirt,” Was all you managed to say when you finally found your voice again. Your hand going up to your cheek, in hopes of calming the furious heat from your blushing. Damn it, you felt like you were back in school. Going through puppy love all over again. With your boyfriend of two years to boot.
“I’m not flirting… I promise! I’m just genuinely captivated by you,” Dean’s voice was just slightly louder than the previous low whisper as he lifted your hand off of your cheek, only to replace it with his softly shaking fingers. The way he touched you felt like a million fireworks and like the definition of pure love. Easily teasing some unwanted tears out of your eyes that you assured him were happy ones with a silent shaky smile.
“Hell, maybe it’s just me being a little too hopeful. But the way I feel…” He continued, gently wiping at your tears. His voice breaking over the words as he kept his soft eyes on you. Their warmth only shaken by the same nervousness you could feel in his touch and hear in his voice as the bravest man you ever met finally asked you the question that had been hanging in the air between you the whole evening.
“Please tell me that there’s something here. Something that I’ve forgotten,” Dean’s voice was thick with emotion as he finally found the words. Forming them like a prayer to you, instead of a question. A wish upon one of the million stars he seemed to be discovering in your tear stained eyes.
“‘Cause this is real, I know it. My palms are all warm, my heart’s in my throat and I can’t stop smiling. Hell, I’ve never felt this way before, but I know it’s real. Well… I don’t remember feeling this way at least,” The final words were followed by a breathless chuckle and light playful commentary of his own situation, teasing another teary smile out of you as he brushed your (Y/H/C) hair out of your eyes.
Yet there was nothing but honesty in them. Hell, you could feel it. His shaky hand, tracing the shape of your jaw as if he was colouring in a masterpiece, filling you with his colours. The warmth of his smile, setting every nerve in your body on fire. Both showing you how he felt, more than what words ever could.
“It’s just… I can’t explain it, but when I look at you, I feel like I’m home,” It was your turn to reach a shaking hand up, gently wiping away the tears making green eyes swim. His own words pushing the hunter over some unseen edge and making the tears flow silently over his cheeks. But there was no pain there, no sadness. Just love.
Your beautiful soldier, the man with a bigger heart than anyone else, was crying because he had no other outlet for the feelings that were overflowing in his heart. And, as you wiped away another tear, lost in his overflowing eyes, like looking at the reflection of a forest through ripples in a lake, you felt your own tears spill over again. Just as much out of love as those of the man in front of you.
Taking a shaky breath, you gave your hunter a weak smile as you leaned in. Letting your forehead touch his and making sure the words stayed just between the two of you. Your heart racing and hands shaking with giddy nervousness. Just like it’d been nearly two years ago.
Even after two years of endless ‘I love yous’ and sweet whispered words, you were surprised you were still as shy as you were back when you first confessed your feelings to the hunter. But, looking at the wordless confession that was spilling from his eyes in the shape of tears, you found the courage to repeat your words. Words that would forever be tattooed on your heart and soul. Curses or memory loss be damned.
“I love you Dean. You’re my heart, my home and my light at the end of every tunnel,” You whispered into the small sliver of air between the two of you. Your smile echoed his as you watched the hunter react to your words, finding new hope in them even as you spoke.
“I loved you the first time you yelled at me for taking stupid risks at a hunt. I loved you even more when you let me into your inner world. And I’ve loved you more and more each and every day, since you became my boyfriend two years ago,” Your voice was shaking as you shared a piece of your heart with the man in front of you, the only one you ever really wanted to make memories with.
The effect was instant.
Your confession was rewarded with a wide-eyed smile, filled with wonder. Green eyes brightening, the same way they had back when you’d shared your heart with him for the first time, two years earlier. Not willing to take his eyes of yours; his shaking hand clumsily sought out yours on the cool sheets as the careful smile grew bright enough to blind you.
“Boyfriend. I’m your boyfriend. So that means you’re… You’re my girlfriend? Wow, just… Really? Wow,” Dean’s words were barely audible as he spoke in a hushed, awed whisper. Happy, relieved laughter bubbling through the man as your words fully sank in. Already forming new memories together before the old ones had even found their way back to him.
“Damn... I’m one hell of a lucky guy,” He added, the smile widening as he lifted his forehead from yours, replacing it with a timid careful kiss before he turned on the bed. Hand still holding onto yours. Clearly ready to shout the happy news to the world as his elated laugh made your two friends jump and turn towards the two of you.
“Hey! Did you hear that Sammy? (Y/N) said she’s mine!”
----
Tags:
Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler
All Story Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27
You always looked forward to dressing up for hunts, especially when you were paired with Dean. The older Winchester constantly begged you to slip on a fancy little dress, but for the most part, it wasn’t really your style. However, that didn’t mean you didn’t absolutely love what it did with him.
After touching up your lightly applied eyeliner, you pushed open the motel bathroom door and entered the main room. A grin curled over your lips as Dean’s eyes immediately scanned over the navy blue dress that hugged your curves. The simple dress stopped at your mid-thigh, but Dean’s gaze didn’t end there. His emerald gaze continued down your form to your silver heels, something you honestly weren’t used to wearing.
“Oh, babe,” he muttered as he stood from his chair, already dressed in his sport suit. The dark blue dress shirt beneath his suit jacket matched your dress perfectly, making you smile. He cleaned up well too, if you said so yourself.
“Ready?” you asked, ignoring his gaping expression. He rushed over to you, snaking his firm hands around your waist.
“I’m ready to get you back home and slip you out of this dress myself,” he growled into your ear as he pulled you against him. A warm ache filled your core, making you hum in acceptance.
“Yes, but you need to bring me back home first. Which means we need to survive this banquet, and find the shifter. Oh, and kill him.” You softly pushed away, turning to grab your clutch bag off the tiny motel table.
“We can leave Sam and Cas to do the last part.” His lips curled a little wider. “Why should we have to do all the dirty work, especially when we could be doing other dirty things that are equally as important?”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’ll have to take that up with them.” You winked as you headed for the door. “Now, let’s go do our job. Once we’re done, and if you’re good, maybe you’ll get a reward.” That’s the only coaxing Dean needed as he rushed towards you, leading you out to the car.
