Dean pushed the door open enough for you to get in behind him but didn't bother to hold it for you. You sighed agitatedly, making sure it was locked before following him down the staircase. His stiff body language told you that he didn't want to talk about it anymore, but the way he almost hesitated in his quick strides made you believe otherwise.
"Dean, I already apologized like four times!" you exclaimed. "Even though I did nothing wrong!" you added as an afterthought. Sam looked up from his laptop in the library as the two of you came in, eyebrows raised in question.
"What's going on?" he asked. Dean shook his head as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets.
"Nothing." You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course. Leave it to Dean to take something that's bothering him, and shove it down so deep that it never sees the light of day again.
"I was getting information for a case, and your brother didn't like my methods, so now he's mad at me," you explained. Dean plastered on a half-smile, shaking his head for emphasis as he spoke.
"It's okay! I'm not mad!" The smile would have almost been convincing, to his credit, had it not been for the slight twitch developing under his right eye. You glanced over at Sam surreptitiously before leaning over ever so slightly.
"Is it just me, or does he seem mad to you?" you asked under your breath.
"Goddammit, I just said I'm not mad!" Dean snapped, causing you to jolt in surprise. Damn. It wasn't like you had been putting all of your efforts into keeping your voice down, but damn. Sam sighed, shutting his laptop and getting to his feet.
"Run me through what happened." God bless him. He was always trying to find some even ground. Dean cast a warning glance in your direction, again, wordlessly telling you that he didn't want to talk about it, but you ignored him, crossing your arms over your chest as you blew a strand of hair out of your face
"Dean got all upset," you started to explain, "because I was flirting with some guy to get information-"
"No, no, no, he wasn't just 'some guy,' okay?" Dean cut you off. "He was a total douchebag! I mean, what the hell was he wearing, anyway? Danny Zuko called, and he wants his outfit back." You shot Sam an incredulous look, who merely shrugged weakly back at you. He was actively trying to excuse himself from the room by taking small, hesitant steps away from the two of you. Apparently, even he sensed that Dean was being unreasonably... Dean about all of this.
"Did... did you just reference Grease?" Dean went red, a stark contrast to his bright green eyes, which were filled with a bit of embarrassment.
"No!" he exclaimed before sighing heavily. "Maybe! Look, all I'm sayin' is that no girl buys into that stupid playboy leather jacket look."
"Ha!" The laugh came from your mouth before you even realized it was you that had made the sound. That was rich, especially coming from Dean Winchester himself. You had vivid memories of him wearing a "stupid playboy leather jacket" when you first met him. "You mean like the one you wore for some three years back in '05?"
"Hey, I'm an exception! And I didn't act like a playboy!" Even Sam let out a snort at that one, and he was halfway across the room.
"Oh, really?" you fired back. "Because I seem to recall you profusely hitting on me when we first met." He spluttered a bit, and you used his temporary inability to summon comprehensible words to your advantage. "I really don't get why you're so upset! I was just looking for a lead like I always do. The person I was asking just happened to be a guy, and as a woman, I know what gets guys talking! There's nothing to be mad about here!" When Dean set his jaw in his telltale way, you braced yourself for whatever he was going to say next.
"I'm not mad, Y/N, I just brought it up as a general concern, and you're the one who started blowing it all out of proportion." And there it was.
"I’m the one blowing it out of proportion?" you nearly screeched. "When he offered to buy me a drink, you threatened to, and I'm quoting you here, 'turn his face inside-out.' What the hell does that even mean?" You glanced over your shoulder to get Sam's two cents on the situation, but he was gone. He must've finally slipped out when you weren't paying attention. With an exasperated huff of air, you turned your attention back to the older Winchester, whose lips had formed something between his signature delicious pout and a frown, the skin between his eyebrows slightly creased. "It was just for a case, Dean! That's all! It didn't mean anything!" He crossed his arms over his army green cotton t-shirt, taught over his freckle-sprinkled skin.
"Oh, I get it," Dean finally said with a wry look in his eyes. "You've got a thing for me." You felt your eyes go wide as saucers as you began to reel, taking a physical step back.
"What?" Where the hell did that come from?
"No, I get it," he repeated. "That's why you've spent the last half hour explaining yourself." You felt your lip curl back involuntarily.
"I don't owe you anything," you practically snarled. Dean nodded.
"I know that," he agreed innocently, all traces of his frustration suddenly gone. "I never said you did. So, if you don't mind my askin', why have you been so hell-bent on telling me that it didn't mean anything?" Now it was your turn to be trapped in stunned silence. "I'll tell you why," he continued, "you've got a thing for me."
You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it. How could you not? After years of constantly being around him, it was practically impossible not to. Hell, you had even found yourself thinking of Sam a couple of times, but that was only when you had first met him, and it was never to the extent of how you used to think of Dean. Correction: how you still thought of Dean.
Chewing on your lip to the point that you were afraid it would start to bleed, you shook your head, acutely aware of the way your face had started to heat up.
"You're an ass," you informed him. As you went to leave him in the dust, his hand was on your wrist, whirling you back around and pulling you to him, making your heart stutter wildly in your chest.
Not even the most lucid of your daydreams could have compared to how it felt to have his perfect lips on yours. Dean kissed you with a softness that you had never seen from him before, a warmth that made your entire body tingle, and with a depth that no one had ever achieved before, and you immediately began to feel dizzy with it. One of his hands served to steady you, stationed on the small of your lower back, and the other rested against your face as his thumb brushed tenderly over the apple of your cheek. When his tongue brushed against your lower lip, you gasped softly, parting your lips to allow him access. Dean gave a soft growl that made butterflies erupt in your stomach, and he pulled you closer. If it was actually possible to get drunk on a kiss, you were certainly getting there.
When you were finally forced apart by the need to breathe, you kept your eyes closed, unwilling to let the moment come to an end.
"Don't worry, gorgeous," Dean murmured into your ear. 'The feeling's mutual." Much to your disappointment, he released you, giving your hand a small squeeze before he was out of your reach. Totally frozen in place, you watched him go. He paused in the archway of the library. "And by the way," he said over his shoulder. "I used to flirt with you so much because I've wanted to do that since the day that I met you."
Thanks for reading!
As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio! <3
Tags: implied smut, flustered!reader, flustered!Sam, Supernatural the Musical, confused!Dean
Word Count: 1,720
A/N: Based on S10, E5
(Gif not mine)
The two Winchesters got out of the front seats of the car in unrehearsed and unplanned unison, causing you to roll your eyes. It's like they were trying to be the unrealistic FBI agents from hoaky television shows. By the time you made it out of the car, they were already making their way up to the school. Damn them and their long legs.
"Hey!" you called after them irritably. "Are you guys gonna wait for me, or what?"
"Nah," Dean responded. Had you not been trying to keep up the professional façade, you may or may not have punched him in the arm.
"So," Sam started his signature run-down, "the last place Mrs. Chandler was seen by anyone was in the auditorium. Turns out, she's the drama teacher." Dean let out an exasperated sigh as you walked, his face more than enough for you to be able to tell that he already didn't like where this case was going.
"Theater kids. Great," he mumbled sarcastically.
"I was a theater kid," Sam said defensively. A wide grin broke out across your face, and you looked up at the tall Winchester with glee.
"No shit? I've got to hear this." Sam's lips turned almost nonexistent as he pressed them into a tight line. "No, wait, don't tell me. I can see it now: Sam Winchester himself on a stage under a spotlight, reciting Shakespearian verses in iambic pentameter."
"That ain't too far off from what he does now," Dean said under his breath as he leaned toward you conspiratorially. You snorted loudly, and Sam came to an immediate stop. Had you not been paying attention, you probably would've rammed right into him.
"You done?" he asked. Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder.
"Oh, come on, Sam, give us a line!" He only shook his head in response as the two of you continued to poke fun at him.
"Shut up."
"That's a shame," you piped up. "He would've made a great Hamlet." As the younger Winchester turned away, you thought you caught him fighting a smile.
When the three of you entered the auditorium, Dean shook his head with slight disgust.
"Okay, seriously, what could possibly-"
"Idjits!" The three of you turned in surprise. It had been a long time since you had heard that. The only person who ever called the boys that was... Bobby? A teenage girl turned around, dressed in a khaki fisherman's vest, a plaid button-up t-shirt, and a worn baseball hat. She even had on a fake beard to match Bobby's appearance. "You are idjits!" she continued. You turned to the boys with a question on your lips, but before you could say anything-
"Hey, assbutt!" Another girl further away held a fake molotov cocktail with sparkly angel wings, a trenchcoat, and an unmistakable blue tie.
"Do-" You were cut off once again as an urgent piano chorus began to play throughout the auditorium, effectively causing you and the boys to jolt in surprise.
"John and Mary, husband and wife. Bringing home a brand-new life.” Your attention was diverted to the stage, where what you were assuming what was supposed to be Sam and Dean's parents carried in a fake baby, placing it in a crib.
"No way," you breathed as you latched onto Sam's arm for support. You were in total shock as the musical number continued to go on. "Th-that's you!" you stammered, fighting the urge to point. Sam nodded tightly.
"I know," he replied.
"On the road so far. They met a woman on the way-” The teenage actress version of you came onto the stage with an impressive-looking fake shotgun. The weapon recoiled in her hands, and the fake werewolf collapsed to the ground.
“And that’s me!” You remembered meeting the boys like it was yesterday, but seeing it acted out in front of you with such accuracy was surreal.
“When the boys were toast, she saved the day. Birds of a feather, now they hunt together. Teaming up to save the world.”
"Cut!" Suddenly, the music came to a stop, and a girl with a beret leaped to her feet in the front row.
"What in the h-holy..." Dean breathed.
"There is a case," Sam put in. "Probably has something to do with all this." How he was able to keep such a level head right now, you had no clue. You could barely think straight.
"You think?" Dean sassed. The girl with the beret came rushing up to the three of you with another girl at her side, and all traces of your conversation died.
"Are you guys from the publisher?" she asked excitedly. She didn't even wait to take a breath before continuing. "I'm Marie, the writer/director, this is Maeve, my stage manager, and..." Marie trailed off as you fished through your blazer pocket for your FBI badge. Before you could get it out, though, Sam placed an urgent hand on your arm, causing you to look up at the stage. No way. The three girls playing Sam, Dean, and you were all holding up fake badges to their counterparts.
"I'm Special Agent Smith," Sam introduced somewhat breathlessly. "These are my partners, Special Agent-"
"Jones," you filled in.
"Smith," Dean said. Two Smiths? You would have to remember to thank Dean for overcomplicating things later.
"No relation," Sam was quick to explain. "We're here to look into the appearance-"
"There's no singing in Supernatural!" Dean exclaimed. Biting back a sigh, you and Sam both shot Dean a look. So much for subtlety.
"Well, this is Marie's interpretation," Maeve said with a frown. Dean let out a sound that was a mixture of a strangled laugh and a groan.
"They're entitled to their creative vision," you justified before he could say anything else. "Just because you don't like that they made Supernatural into a musical doesn't mean that you have to-"
"Dean cannot find out about this." The words instantly clicked in your brain, and you totally lost track of what you had been saying. On the stage behind Marie and Maeve, the two actresses playing Sam and yourself were running lines. "He would never let us live it down." Sam's actress took your actress's hand, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.
"If Dean finds out, he can deal with it. We're all adults here. Besides, it's not like he's never slept with someone before." The teenage actress version of you shook her head.
"Yeah, Sam, but it's different this time! We're not just talking about sex between two random people. This is you and me that we're talking about here."
"Oh, God," was all you were able to say. That had happened a few years ago when you were still blissfully unaware that Chuck was writing and selling books about your life with the Winchesters. That moment, in particular, was supposed to be private. Sam caught your eye with an expression of horror that was incredibly similar to your own. Holy shit. Dean spluttered for a moment before he was finally able to get comprehensible words out. He looked at you with disbelief.
"You-" Thankfully, you were able to give him a discreet shake of your head before he totally blew your cover. "Y/N and Sam," he corrected himself, "are... together?"
"They're not together," you and Sam chimed in at the same time. The skin between Marie's eyebrows crinkled as she stared at you.
"What are you talking about?" she asked incredulously. "Y/N and Sam have been hooking up since book two. That's canon."
"Oh my God," you repeated miserably. You barely heard a word the boys said as they did the standard case questioning with Marie and Maeve. Meanwhile, you were more focused on how many of your intimate moments with Sam were going to be on stage.
"So, how 'bout you give the two of us a behind-the-scenes tour-" You tuned in just as Sam was gesturing between him and yourself. "-while your director shows my partner Mrs. Chandler's office. Deal?" The two girls nodded wordlessly. "Great. Give us a moment, please."
"Okay," Marie agreed. As the two of them made their way back down to the stage, you continued to stand there in stunned silence.
"I'm gonna throw up," Dean said. You nodded numbly.
"Seconded."
"Yeah, by the way, were you two ever gonna tell me about that?" he asked.
"No."
"Absolutely not." Both your and Sam's words came out in a jumble, and you glanced at the tall man sheepishly.
"Well, you heard the girl!" Dean said, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's 'canon!' So, is it still going on, or what?" You made a face at his question.
"Dean!" Sam scolded. Your entire lives were on display in musical form for the rest of the world to see, and he wanted to know if you were still sleeping with his brother?
"That can't seriously be what you're most concerned about right now," you huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. Dean's eyes only got wider as he ignored your comment.
"Well?" he pressed on. "Is it?" You and the younger Winchester exchanged another wary glance. He clearly wasn't going to let it go until he got his answer.
"No!" you exclaimed. Dean arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. "I'm serious, Dean. Sam and I haven't hooked up in a long time." The oldest Winchester looked to his brother for verification.
"It's true," Sam confirmed. Dean shook his head somewhat manically.
"I can't believe this. Friggin' musicals," he started to mutter as he shuffled away. "Andrew Floyd Webber crap."
"Andrew Lloyd," Sam corrected. Dean turned around, making a face.
"What?" When you shook your head at him, he rolled his eyes and headed for the stage. When he was finally out of earshot, you let out a breath of relief.
"I think we're in the clear," you whispered. Sam watched his brother, who seemed to be coaching "Cas" on how to throw his molotov cocktail. What a dweeb. The younger Winchester's hand found its way to the small of your back.
"You really think he bought that?" he leaned down to murmur in your ear. You shrugged.
"I don't know," you admitted. "But maybe we should knock it off for a while just to be safe." Sam nodded.
"Agreed."
Thank you so much for reading!
As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio!
Summary: When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.
Staring anxiously at your phone screen, you tapped through new links, looking for any occurrence that could be considered "paranormal." The one thing that caught your attention was the report on your childhood home burning down in local news, and you really weren't in the mood to read it. A few days had passed since the fire, and even though you knew that laying low was the smart thing to do, you were going crazy. Dean especially needed some time to heal if the three of you were going to take care of this witch problem, but doing nothing was starting to get to you. You had never been one for sitting still for long periods of time, and you were really starting to feel it. The only time any of you left the house was to get food or sit in a diner to charge your phones, and even those excursions had to be as discreet as possible. There was no telling where the witch had eyes. For all you knew, she already had your location pinpointed and was just waiting for the right moment. But you were trying not to think about that.
With a loud groan, you pressed your palms up into your eyes, which felt raw from staring at a screen for so long.
"This is pointless," you grumbled to yourself. Dean, who had been scrolling lazily through his phone, gave an amused snort. He sat up, suddenly excited.
"We could watch a movie," he recommended hopefully. "I don't have Netflix on my phone, but I could download it, and-"
"That's probably not the best idea," the younger Winchester piped up from across the room. He had been so quiet reading his book, you had almost forgotten he was there. "You don't want to waste your battery life." Dean scowled at his brother.
"Well, then what am I supposed to do?" he grumbled. Sam shrugged.
"Read a book." Dean's scowl deepened, and he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.
"Yeah, right." Quite frankly, you felt a little bit bad for him. Out of the three of you, Dean was the only one who was struggling to entertain himself. In any other situation, you knew he would've spent his free time working on his beloved car. When things weren't so bad, he always told you things he wanted to improve, so she could stay running in her prime condition for longer, but he had strict doctor's orders from you to take it easy. He glanced over your shoulder to peer at your screen.
"What're you up to, babe?"
"Looking for leads," you replied, not looking up from your phone. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam and Dean exchange a wary look. You already knew what that look meant. They thought you were obsessing over this, and maybe you were, but that wasn't the point. You had to keep trying for your mom if nothing else. Besides, at least you were entertained this way, which was more than you could say for Dean.
"Maybe you should give it a rest," Dean suggested.
"I will," you lied, nodding to appease them. "Just one second." As you opened a new tab, you began to type frantically into the search bar. "I think I might find something if I just use a few different keywords." Sam snapped his book shut and stood, causing you to look up in surprise.
"All right," he said firmly.
"What're you-" Before you could object, he strode over to you, took your phone out of your grasp, and handed it off to Dean. "Hey!" you exclaimed. "I was-"
"Exhausting yourself," Sam finished as he pointed a slightly reprimanding finger at you. You opened your mouth to protest, but you couldn't find the words. Even though you didn't want to admit it, he wasn't wrong. You had been searching the internet tirelessly since midmorning when the three of you had gotten back from breakfast. The only time you had taken a break was when you left with the boys to get lunch. "Come on." Sam held out a hand, which you reluctantly took, and he hoisted you to your feet. "We're going outside."
"But-" you began to argue again.
"Nope," he cut you off. He didn't wait for you to follow him as he headed for the door, stopping to point at his brother first. "No Netflix." Dean let out another huff, and you shot him a sympathetic look.
"Any idea what he's got planned?" Your question fell on deaf ears as he squinted at his phone screen thoughtfully.
"Hey, are you gonna rat me out if I download Netflix anyway?" Despite yourself, you chuckled. At this point, you were pretty sure he wanted to watch movies just because Sam said he couldn't. You shook your head.
"No, but if your phone dies, you're not using mine," you warned. Dean paused for a moment, squinting his eyes even more.
"Deal," he finally said. With one last roll of your eyes, you went after Sam, pushing open the dilapidated screen door. You were older than Sam, and even though you didn't feel like you were, you were still a bit bewildered by the way he bossed you around inside. He treated you like a little sister, and it wasn't that you minded, but you really did want to keep searching for new leads. Even though you had exhausted every search topic you could think of, you couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was still something out there to be found.
"Hey, you want to tell me what we're doing?" you called after the younger Winchester. He walked through the overgrown grass almost effortlessly, but you practically had to go high-knees to get through it. Damn him and his height. Finally, he came to a halt, turning around to face you.
"Training," Sam answered. You made a face, taken aback. For some reason, that was the last thing you had been expecting to come out of his mouth. "You need something to do, and Dean can't do this with you because of his stitches, so I'm the next best thing. But don't tell him I said that. Sound good?" What with your quick retreat, it had been a while since you trained, and honestly, you had kind of forgotten about it. Still, this wasn't what you had been expecting to do this afternoon, and you were already feeling anxious to get back to your phone. The light breeze blew a strand of hair into your face, and you tucked it behind your ear.
"I'm not saying I'm perfect, but do we still need to call it training? I feel like it's more just practicing at this point," you pointed out. Maybe if you argued with him enough, you could get out of this. "And do I still even need to?"
"Yes," Sam answered with a serious nod. "Even after as long as Dean and I have been doing this, we still train to make sure we stay in shape." You gnawed on your lower lip uneasily as he rolled up his sleeves.
"But I don't want you exerting yourself," you tried again. "What about your lungs?"
"Y/N, my lungs are fine," Sam insisted. "So don't hold back, okay?" You looked away with a frown, grumbling.
"It's not holding back that I'm worried about." Sam gave an exasperated shake of his head as he looked at you, bewilderment written all over his face.
"Jesus," he said. "You're more stubborn than Dean." You felt your lip involuntarily curl back a bit as you tucked your chin. The two of you knew better than anyone how stubborn Dean could be, and Sam knew damn well that you hated when he got like that. Those were fighting words.
"Sam Winchester, you take that back right now!"
"Oh, I know what it is," Sam continued. "You're chicken shit." Okay, now he was just pissing you off. You were a lot of things, but chicken shit wasn't one of them. And you were most definitely not as stubborn as Dean.
"All right, listen-"
"You're afraid you've gotten too rusty to even try to take me on." Face flushing bright red, you let out a spluttering noise. Sam stuffed his hands into his jean's pockets, and he gave a nonchalant shrug. "I get it." With a final defiant huff, you pushed your sleeves up past your elbows. If he wanted to see what Dean had taught you, then that's what he was gonna get.
"Are you gonna heckle me all day, or are we gonna do this?" His face melted into a triumphant, if not slightly smug grin, and he held up his fists.
"Show me what you've got." You cracked your knuckles, narrowing your eyes.
"Gladly." The sun, sitting low on the horizon, beat its orange rays on Sam and you, as you both waited for the other to make the first move. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to kick it off, you lunged at him for a quick jab. He dodged easily, countering with a punch that you narrowly missed. You stumbled back, already feeling a bit winded.
"Concentrate, Y/N," Sam encouraged. You growled irritably.
"I'm trying."
"No, you're not," he disagreed. He lowered his defenses and stepped up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "Your head's in a million different places right now, but it isn't here." You slumped in defeat. He was right. It had become increasingly difficult for you to concentrate on any one thing over the past few days. "I need you to let everything else go and focus on your movements and me. Can you do that?" Wordlessly, you gave him a nod, and he smiled encouragingly. "Okay. Let's try it again." Sam moved first, but you were ready for him this time. With razor-sharp focus, you deflected his blow with the outside of your forearm and used the momentum to power a right hook. He caught your fist in his hand as an impressed smile took over his face. "Better," he commended. Allowing your instincts to take over, you analyzed your positions for any weak points. Your right foot was in front, supporting the majority of your weight and keeping you balanced. When Sam had stopped your fist, not only had he occupied his hand, his left leg had also staggered back a bit, leaving his right leg exposed. You smirked knowingly. He didn't want you to hold back? Sam Winchester was about to eat his words.
"I'm not done yet." You didn't even give him a chance to fully process what you had said before you executed a turning kick aimed at his right hip. Surprise briefly filled his eyes, but he quickly recovered, releasing your fist and taking a step away.
"Hey-!" But you were faster than him, raining down fury in quick jabs and kicks that had him struggling to keep up. Finally, you lifted your knee and delivered a push kick to the center of his chest, stopping your momentum in mid-air before you actually made contact. Sam stumbled back by reflex, breathing hard as he fell to the ground. You grinned at him as sweat dripped down both of your faces.
"Now I'm done." You held out a hand to help him up, which he took, shaking his head. "Still think I'm rusty, smartass?"
"I take it all back," he replied with a chuckle.
"Good," you asserted, allowing your playfulness to seep into your tone. You squinted back at the house, knowing that Dean was probably in there draining the life out of his phone. "Okay," you said with a sigh. "If we're done out here, I've gotta get back in there and see what I can find." Turning on your heel, you began to head back in the direction of the house.
"Seriously?" Sam asked as he brushed off the butt of his jeans. "Y/N, I dragged you out here for a reason, and that reason wasn't for you to go back in and stress yourself out after five minutes." Huffing defensively, you jutted out your chin at him as you turned back around.
"I know that!" The younger Winchester crossed his arms over his chest exasperatedly as he looked you up and down.
"You're not staying out here without a fight, are you?"
"Probably not," you admitted. He heaved a sigh, taking a few steps toward you.
"Y/N," he started, "this is for your own good." Before you could ask what the hell he was talking about, he slung you over his shoulder with ease, causing you to let out a surprised screech.
"Sam!" You beat your fists down on his back, similar to how a toddler would have with a parent. "Jesus Christ, put me down, you weirdo!"
The sun was considerably lower in the sky by the time you and Sam were finished outside. It had been another fifteen minutes of you being stubborn before you finally relented and spent the next hour and a half practicing the fighting techniques Dean had taught you, and learning a few new ones from Sam. You knew you hadn't made it easy on him at first, but you were grateful for the distraction. Besides, throwing some punches was unquestionably a productive way to let out some of the stress you had been feeling.
"Hey," Sam greeted his brother when the two of you reentered the house. Dean quickly tucked away his phone, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. Sam didn't seem to notice.
"Hey," he replied. "Y/N was kicking your ass out there." You grinned triumphantly. Damn straight, you were.
"What've you been doing?" Sam asked. As soon as he asked, you fought the urge to burst out laughing. Dean's eyes went wide, but he quickly recovered, clearing his throat.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm starving." His not-so-subtle subject change didn't go unnoticed, you were willing to show mercy today. "Should we go grab some dinner and charge up?" Your stomach growled at the mention of food. Dinner sounded like a fantastic idea, but even as much as you were craving a classic burger and fries, you couldn't stand the sticky feeling that lingered on your skin. Plus, you had been dying to get some one-on-one time with Dean, and this seemed like the best way to do it.
"Actually, do you mind if I get cleaned up first?" you put in sheepishly. "I caught a whiff of myself on the way back in, and I'd really like to take a quick shower before we go." You glanced over at Dean, who raised his eyebrows when you caught his eye. "As long as your stitches aren't in the direct stream of water, I think you should be fine to shower too. Come with me?" You could tell by the roguish grin sneaking onto his face that he caught your meaning. Unfortunately, so did Sam.
"If you're doing that, then I'm going for a drive. I'm happy for you and all, but I don't want to be around to hear something that I don't want to hear." Casting your eyes downward, you blushed as Sam held his hand out expectantly. No sooner had Dean tossed him the keys that Sam was hauling it out of the house. "I'll be back in half an hour," he called over his shoulder. Dean shot you a wink as he made his way over to the stairs.
"You comin'?" he asked. Heart thumping in your chest at the way he looked at you, you nodded.
Dean beat you tot he upstairs bathroom, and by the time you got there, he already had the shower running. You smiled knowingly to yourself as you pulled off your shirt, leaving you in your bra and jeans. The eldest Winchester turned around, and his eyes widened in pleased surprise. Even though he had seen you naked many times before, he still always looked just as in awe as he was the first time. Part of you wondered whether or not that feeling would fade, although if he felt the same way about seeing you naked that you did about him, then the answer was a resounding no. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he took a small step toward you. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he looked at you as if trying to reassure himself that you were real. With a small disbelieving shake of his head, he ran his hands along your sides, making you shiver. You leaned into Dean's touch as he grazed your cheek, allowing him to guide you into a kiss that left you breathless. "I want you," he whispered against your mouth. Just hearing him say that had desire spreading through your veins like wildfire. You hooked your fingers through his front belt loops and pulled him closer to you.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Hungrily, Dean trailed open-mouthed kisses down your neck and shoulders as you undid the button of his jeans. As much as you wanted to savor this, you were on a bit of a tight schedule. Dean must have been thinking the same thing. He pulled you into a heated kiss, which the two of you only broke to take off your remaining articles of clothing.
"Shower?" he practically panted when you finally pulled apart. You nodded eagerly
"God, yes." The two of you stepped over the tub's lip into the stream of the hot water, being careful not to slip. Dean's hands immediately began to roam your body again, and you let out a soft moan.
"You're so goddamn beautiful, it hurts," he whispered into your neck before sucking lightly at the skin. Said the man that could break hearts without even trying. You reached behind yourself to stroke him, arching your head back onto his shoulder to allow him more access. Dean groaned as you let your hand do the work, and you smiled at his reaction. You weren't sure what it was, but there was something that set your nerves on fire, knowing that you were the reason behind those noises. "You're killing me here, sweetheart." That was kind of the point. When he reached down to feel you, you couldn't help but gasp. "You ready for me?" You shot him a wicked smirk over your shoulder, taking note of the way his pupils were blown with lust when he met your gaze.
"You can feel that I am." Slowly, you guided him into you, letting your eyes flutter closed when his pelvis pressed into your ass.
"Holy..." Dean breathed. He moved, and you moaned again, suddenly very glad that Sam wasn't in the house. His calloused hands latched onto your hips in a way that you thought might leave bruises when you were finished, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. Unrealistic sex scenes in the movies had nothing on this. Dean's hot breath mixed with the steam from the shower, splaying onto your shoulder, and he caught your earlobe between his teeth. You let out a wanton moan as your body reacted to the new sensation. "That's it," he murmured into your ear. "Let me know you like it."
Dean's words only spurred you on, and you found yourself grinding back into him, trying to match his movements without throwing you both off-balance, in which case, the two of you would probably go crashing to the floor. Being extra careful to make sure that he wasn't going to make you fall, he wrapped a gentle but firm hand around your throat and tilted your head back to kiss you. Christ, he was going to be the death of you. One of the things you loved most about sex with Dean was that even though it was an incredibly repetitive act, neither of you ever finished disappointed. "Fuck!" you panted as he picked up speed. You were right on the edge of ecstasy, and you could feel your body begging for it. Using his free hand, Dean reached down to rub light circles in the spot that practically made your toes curl. It was exactly the feeling you had been missing, and you began to unravel.
"Come on, sweetheart," he urged. "Come for me."
Irresistible pleasure pulsed through you as your back arched, your climax taking Dean over the edge with you as you tugged on his hair. Once you were both done, you turned around in his arms, happy and spent, and kissed him tenderly.
"Holy shit," he said breathlessly. You smiled. That had been your line last time. Now that the fun was over, though, you realized that you still needed to actually shower, and you were running even shorter on time than before.
"Hand me the shampoo, would you?" As Dean pulled aside the shower curtain to grab the bottle, the two of you froze when the Impala's car horn sounded from outside. The green-eyed man chuckled.
"Better make it fast," he said, kissing you swiftly on the forehead.
"Sounds like our half-hour is up."
Despite the rocky start, your day had turned out to be a pretty good one. An unexpected workout that got you sweating, great sex with the man you loved, and an even better dinner afterward. It hadn't been anything fancy, but you had been scoping out a family-owned pizza place that the three of you had been driving by for the past few days. Finally, the boys had caved and agreed to go there to get your nightly nourishment. Even though Dean had acted pouty because he had wanted burgers (but hell, you thought you had wanted burgers too), even he had to admit after his first slice that the pizza was to die for.
"I'm so full," you groaned for the thousandth time. Sam chuckled from the front seat, shaking his head at your antics.
"I told you not to finish the rest of that pizza by yourself," he reminded you, "but you didn't listen to me." The Impala rumbled down the rural gravel road as Dean neared the house. He snorted.
"She didn't finish it by herself. She had me." You leaned forward in the seat to kiss Dean on the cheek. Another thing you loved about him: he always had your back, even in the stupidest of scenarios.
"Yes, I did," you affirmed. The car rolled to a stop, and the three of you got out with nothing but moonlight illuminating your path. "Saying we shouldn't have finished it is quitter talk," you continued, punching Sam playfully in the arm as you headed for the front door. "And quite frankly, I'm offended you even mentioned it."
Before you could get any closer, Sam grabbed onto your arm tightly, stopping you in your tracks. Instantly, you were on high-alert, and your senses went into overdrive. As soon as you stopped moving, you could sense it. Something was wrong. Your surroundings were too quiet - not even the crickets were chirping - and darkness seemed to loom in the air. You looked over at Dean in alarm, and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. This had bad news written all over it, and quite frankly, you didn't have the slightest idea what was about to go down. Someone was here. And you already knew who it was.
"Did you enjoy your dinner?" The cool voice left chills running down your spine as you scanned the outdoor space for the witch. When she emerged from the shadows, her raven hair and black clothes created the illusion that she was seeping into existence from the darkness. The boys reached for their guns, and you did the same, more thankful than ever that Dean had convinced you to start carrying a weapon with you at all times. Your heart began to beat faster as you held the gun steady in your hands, but you forced yourself to calm down. Now was not the time to lose your nerve. You had a mission to avenge your mother, and not even your fear of Isobel would stop you from achieving that.
"How did you find us?" you said shakily, your voice echoing strangely into the night air. The moon cast its eerie glow down on you and the Winchesters, making the grass and trees that surrounded you seem dull and gray - lifeless. She bowed her head, but even from this distance, you could see that she was smiling up at you through her eyelashes.
"Please." Isobel stepped back into the shadows, allowing the darkness to swallow her whole again. "There hasn't been a moment that I haven't known where you are." When she spoke, her voice seemed to reverberate back at you from every side at once. Your eyes darted around frantically as you looked for any movement or sign of what shadows may be hiding her.
"Sam," you quavered. "Dean." The three of you went back-to-back-to-back to eliminate any blind spots that the witch could use to her advantage.
"Right here, Y/N," Sam reassured.
"We're not going anywhere, sweetheart."
Isobel reemerged from the blackness a few feet in front of you, and you snapped to attention again. Instantly, the boys swiveled, so they were on either side of you, a straight line of three hunters who all had their guns pointed at a witch.
"Teamwork," she remarked. "How adorable. Manete." The Latin word had barely passed through her lips when the spell took effect, your body jerking to a stop as if frozen in time. A frown flitted across your face as you tried to move some part, any part of your body. Panic clawed at your throat as you began to realize that your limbs weren't responding to you anymore. You couldn't even get your fingertips to twitch.
"I can't move!" you exclaimed. Sam and Dean glared at the witch venomously, also unable to move. All three of you were armed with guns filled with witch-killing bullets, and none of you were able to use them. You had never seen Dean look so angry before.
"It's an immobilization spell," Sam explained, his eyes never leaving the witch. "We can't move unless she breaks it." You felt your heart drop into your stomach. Sam and Dean had spent so much time teaching you how to defend yourself, and it was all turning out to be useless.
"Trust me," Isobel began as she stalked a wide circle around the three of you, making sure to keep her distance. "I don't plan on letting you two boys move." Once she had completed her circle, she came to a stop. "And as for you?" Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she looked at you. "Eritis mihi in pupa." Instantaneously, you felt the rigidness leave your limbs, and you took a hesitant step forward.
"So, what?" you snarled. "You want this to be a one-on-one fight? Fine." As you glanced over your shoulder to look at the Winchesters, you let your love for them show in your eyes. If this is what it came down to, so be it. Because of you, they had been dragged into this, and you had no intention of letting either of them get hurt. "Let them go," you commanded. "I'm the one you want anyway, just let them go and take me."
"Y/N, no!" Dean shouted. Sam's eyes darted between you and Isobel anxiously.
"What are you doing?" Honestly, you had no clue. Improvising at best, but throwing yourself into a suicide mission at worst. Isobel let out a soft tsk sound.
"Actually, that's not true. I want all three of you," she corrected. "And as for a fight? Well..." Her mouth curved into a malicious smirk. "This won't be much of a fight." With visible strain, she moved her arms up in a fluid motion, and then pushed them to the side. Much to your horror, your legs began to move against your will, walking you right up to the witch.
"What is this?" you demanded as you tried to keep your fear at bay. "You're afraid I'll kill you, so you make me your puppet?" She cackled, a vicious grin on her face.
"Oh, you're not killing me." The witch moved her hands in a circular motion, and your body turned around to face the boys. Tears of pure terror welled up in your eyes as you realized that this was what she had been planning all along. This had all been a trap. And you and the Winchesters had walked right into it. "You're killing them." Again, against your will, your limbs moved, and you found yourself pointing a gun at Dean's head. You let out a choked sob. After everything you had been through, this is how the story would end? With you killing Dean Winchester?
"Y/N," he said calmly, his green eyes burning into yours. "You can fight this."
"No," the witch piped up from behind you. "She really can't. But good try." Your finger stretched outward, itching to pull the trigger of the gun. As you looked at Dean, all of your favorite memories with him flashed before your eyes. How your heart had raced when he charmed his way into your life at that shitty diner. The smell of worn leather in the front seats of the Impala where you shared your first kiss. The feel of his warm arms around you when he told you he loved you for the first time. Sam and Dean exchanged a grave look as you let out another cry of distress.
No. You had fought too damn hard and hurt too damn much for everything to go to shit now.
Muscles cramping, your hands began to tremble, and you tried your damnedest to resist.
"I won't," you growled. Sweat beaded on your forehead as your shaking increased. The witch had already taken your mother from you. She wasn't taking the only family you had left. You would die before you killed the Winchesters.
"You will," Isobel growled into your ear. "I figure this is fair," she prattled on. "You took my mother from me years ago, so I took yours. But that still wasn't enough. I want to take every last thing you hold dear. I want you to watch as the life drains out of the eyes of the only people you have left. And then I'm going to kill you too. Slowly. I'll take my time with it, and you'll be begging for me to just kill you already." The witch was standing directly behind you, uncomfortably close. That's when it hit you. The day when Dean was teaching you how witch-killing bullets worked many years ago.
“So, are these suckers organ-specific? Like, a wooden stake to a vampire’s heart or something?”
“Doesn’t matter where you get ‘em, so long as the bullet hits its mark.”
So long as the bullet hits its mark.
The weight of the gun in your hands seemed more insistent somehow as you made your choice. Your entire body was shuddering violently now as you forced your arms back toward yourself. Every muscle you had screamed in protest. Had you been in control of the rest of your body, the resistance in your arms would have been great enough to bring you to your knees. Warm liquid dripped from your right nostril, and the unmistakable taste of blood touched your lips.
"No!" Isobel shrieked from behind you. She began to chant a frenzy of words and touched her index and middle fingers to your temples. The memories you were using to fuel your strength vanished, and all you knew was the white-hot pain that flashed behind your eyes. A scream ripped from your throat, leaving it raw as you battled through the feeling that your head could split open, and that would be it. For a brief, horrifying moment, your arms began to point the gun at the boys again.
"Y/n!” Through all the hurt, you heard Dean's voice in your thoughts, calling you back to him. Panting heavily, you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the witch from your head. You were stronger than this. You refused to be controlled by the bitch that killed your mother. She was never going to hurt anyone ever again.
"I won’t!” Your voice echoed thunderously throughout the clearing, and suddenly, you felt the cold, hard barrel of your gun against your skin.
Time froze when you met Dean's gaze. There were still so many things you wanted to tell him. Even though you had patched up your relationship, you had never gotten the opportunity to put into words just how much he meant to you. Things tended to be more chaotic when he was around, but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Because with the chaos came love, laughter, happiness, and a sense of belonging that you had never known before you met him. You loved him with every fiber of your being, and if you had to choose between him or you, it would be him - every single time.
Dean stared intently at you, alarm flashing behind his eyes. He knew what you were about to do. And if you didn't make it, you could only hope that he would forgive you for it.
The bullet tore through you in milliseconds, ripping through layers of skin and muscle, and suddenly, the witch's fingers were gone from your temples. Your muscles tingled and ached with adrenaline and fatigue as the gun fell from your hands into the tall grass. Turning around, you took a few staggering steps back as you clutched at your new would, which was profusely bleeding. Isobel Gray was motionless in the grass as dark red soaked the soil beneath her. Her raven hair splayed out in a halo around her head as the moon reflected in her unseeing eyes. She was dead.
She was dead.
You let out a laugh that sounded crazed as you sunk to your knees, and the boys were at your side in an instant, the immobilization spell broken. Dean peeled away the shoulder of your shirt to put pressure on the wound, shaking you a bit. You let out a hiss of pain.
"Why the hell would you do that?" he demanded. You brushed off his worrying and swallowed hard. The adrenaline was wearing off, and your energy was fading fast.
"I had to," you answered, pained. "You know I had to." The older Winchester spluttered in frustration.
"No, you didn't, Y/N! Not like that! You could've killed yourself!" You waved him off. It wasn't like you hadn't thought of that already. You had made your choice, and the world was better off because of it. Patting Sam's arm appreciatively, you bobbed your head at the witch's body.
"Please, for the love of God, someone make sure she's actually dead. I think I might keel over if she isn't." Still looking you over in concern, Sam complied, cautiously padding over to Isobel to check. For a terrifying moment, you were afraid he might tell you that you had somehow missed. That she was alive. But he never did.
"She's dead," he confirmed. It was over. It was finally over. The rest of the world around you ebbed with inky darkness, threatening to take over the rest of your vision.
"I did it," you panted. "Holy shit. I actually did it." Dean put more pressure on your bleeding bullet wound, earning a loud pained groan, accompanied by a few not-so-nice words. Sam came back over to you and Dean, patting you gently on your good shoulder.
"That was incredibly brave," Sam informed you. Dean scowled darkly at his brother.
"Like hell it was!" he barked. "It was fucking stupid, is what it was! Do you even know how goddamn risky that was, Y/N?" You didn't care. All that mattered was that you had finally finished what you had sworn to do after the death of your mom. Now, you could finally grieve and allow yourself to heal. You took one final look at Isobel's body and smiled weakly but triumphantly.
"Fucking bitch." You slumped back limply into Dean's arms, who tightened his grip on you, panic filling his face.
"No, no, no, sweetheart. Don't you do that, you hear me? I just got you back, I ain't losin' you again, baby." Exhaustion pulled you into its unforgiving grasp, and you sunk down deeper into its hold. "Y/N, open your eyes! Y/N!” Dean's name was on your lips as the rest of the world dulled to black, and his worried shouting followed you into the void before fading to nothing.
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Smoke was practically erupting from Dean's ears as he stomped down the walkway to the Impala, the door to the police station slamming closed behind him.
"I can't believe this," he growled. "I can't friggin' believe it!" Sam was hot on his brother's heels, and for once, he didn't try to appease his anger. "Fucking ridiculous," he continued to mutter under his breath as they neared the car. When Sam climbed into the passenger seat, Dean had his phone pressed up against his ear.
"Dude, what are you doing?"
"I'm calling her," Dean snapped back. Sam's eyes widened as he frowned and reached for the small device.
"What? No, don't-" Wordlessly, the elder Winchester held up a hand to stop him, making sure to hold the phone out of his reach. Sam sighed. His older brother had always been far more hotheaded than himself, and that often led him to make decisions that could be perceived as... unwise. Jamming his finger down on the screen, Dean put the call on speaker, so Sam could hear.
"Come on, you asshole," Dean muttered as the line continued to ring. Finally, it stopped. Sam breathed a sigh of relief. At least she hadn't picked up. No good could come from calling her, and he knew that, but Dean was stubborn, and wasn't thinking clearly.
"Let's just go home, and-" When Sam was interrupted by the sound of another call being made, his head snapped over in disbelief.
"Dude, seriously!" Again, Dean held up a hand at him. This time when the ringing stopped, her voice came through.
"Dean Winchester," Y/N said tiredly. "To what do I owe the pleasure this time?" Dean's scowl deepened as his chest puffed up with indignation.
"You know exactly why I'm calling!" Dean shouted into the receiver. "You made us look like idiots!" Y/N chuckled over the line.
"Well, as sure as I am that you two are fully capable of looking like idiots all on your own, I honestly have no idea why you're blowing up my phone. Enlighten me, would you?" When Dean only stuttered in response, Sam leaned in to take over.
"The poltergeist?" He prompted. "With the sheriff's daughter?"
"Oh, that. Yeah, I took care of that case a couple of days ago when I was passing through town. So?" Dean trembled slightly.
"'So?'" he repeated. "We looked like fucking morons in there, Y/N! Sam and I have been following this case for a week!" Dean turned to his younger brother, who was eyeing him nervously. "Sam, how do you think it made us look when we went in to question the sheriff, and the case had already been taken care of?" Sam had seen his brother angry many times before, but Y/N brought Dean to levels that he honestly hadn't thought possible.
"...pretty stupid," he finally admitted.
"Exactly!" Again, Y/N chuckled, which only made Dean more pissed.
"Look, boys," she said with a sigh. "I just did what needed to be done. I took care of a case before anyone else died. That's what we do, right?" As much as Sam hated to admit it, she was right. "It's not my fault you were a little slow on the uptake." But then again, she was also a smug asshole, and he refused to admit anything. Y/N working a case the boys were tracking could have been an honest mistake. But this was Y/N they were talking about, and this wasn't the first time she had done this. Dean took in a sharp breath through his nose. Sam leaned away, sensing the impending outburst.
"We are not-" Clenching and unclenching his jaw, the green-eyed Winchester closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, steadying himself. "Listen. Y/N. I know you're a hunter - a good hunter. Otherwise, you wouldn't be hunting alone. But I also know that you're watching us, and taking our cases!"
"Ha!" she barked. "You wish I was that interested in you, Winchester." The blush that rose up on Dean's cheeks didn't go unnoticed by his younger brother. Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly at him, earning a death glare in return.
"Okay," Dean continued. "I don't know what you have against Sam and me, or why you're so hell-bent on beating us to a case-"
"I'm gonna stop you right there," Y/N cut him off. "Whenever you're ready to quit beating around the bush and take me out for a drink already, then we'll talk. All right? But until then, I would appreciate it if you kept your false accusations to yourself." Sam's irritation melted into amusement as he watched Dean splutter in frustration. Him liking Y/N was a possibility he had never considered before, but now that he was thinking about it... "I'll tell you what," she started again, "you can even pick the bar."
"I don't-" Dean stammered. Another soft chuckle came over the phone.
"Bye, boys." With that, the line went dead, leaving the Winchesters in total silence. After a few moments, Dean tossed his cellphone into the backseat irritably as he let out a loud groan.
"I hate her," he stated seriously. Sam's eyebrows crept even closer to his hairline.
"Well?" His brother glared at him.
"Well, what?"
"Are you going to ask her out?" Dean turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.
"Hell, no." When Dean put the car in drive, he began to grumble to himself. "Ask her out. No way." Still, his foot rested heavily on the brake as he squinted out the windshield, obviously deep in thought. Sam fought back a smile. He could practically see the wheels turning in his head. The gearshift clicked as Dean put the car back into park, unbuckling his seatbelt as he reached around into the backseat. He growled loudly. "Where did my damn phone go?"
"What happened to not asking her out?" Sam teased. Dialing the number into his phone, Dean shook his head.
"Shut up."
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Sam took his plate from the counter next to you, looking over your shoulder.
"Are you sure you don't want to try to give him one of these?" He gestured to his veggie burger. You shook your head and poked at the two garden turkey burgers in the pan.
"No," you answered. "I think this is all we should aim for today. I'm afraid he'll have a stroke if we give him a burger that doesn't actually have meat in it." Sam grimaced.
"Yeah, but he might die from a heart attack if we don't."
"Baby steps, Sam," you insisted. "Turkey burgers today, veggie burgers tomorrow." Over the past few days, the two of you had been trying to get Dean to adapt to a healthier diet - a task that you knew wasn't going to be easy. So far, he had refused a kale salad and turned down a chicken and quinoa dish. Things weren't looking good. If you couldn't get him to at least try a healthier burger, all hope was lost. Right on cue, Dean paraded into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together with glee.
"Sam told me you were cookin' up some burgers for us tonight. I'm starving." He tried to peer into the pan, but you swatted at him with your spatula.
"Cool your jets there, Winchester," you chided, blocking his view of the turkey burger. "Why don't you take a seat with Sam and I'll bring it over to you when it's ready?"
"All right, all right," he complied, sitting down on one of the stools at the table. "Hey, how come Sam gets to eat?" Dean complained after a moment of silence. You rolled your eyes.
"Because Sam asked me very nicely to cook his first," you answered. Dean grumbled a bit, making you snort.
"How's it coming over there, Y/N?" Sam asked, obviously eager to see his brother's reaction. You glanced down at the burgers again and turned the flame off.
"They're done, actually." You loaded up your plate, and then Dean's, and brought them over to the table. "All right, boys, eat up." As you sat in your usual place, Dean was unusually still across from you. His eyes met yours, and he pointed at his plate.
"What... are those?"
"Baked zucchini fries," you replied proudly. "They're really good." Sam rolled his eyes next to his brother.
"Dude, come on, they're still fries." You popped one in your mouth for emphasis, and the older Winchester grimaced.
"Okay, okay, one: ew. Two: no, they're not." He picked one up gingerly, scrutinizing it with disgust. "Last time I checked, fries are not supposed to have green undertones." When you and Sam only stared at him, he raised his eyebrows in question. "Come on, seriously? Where's the grease? Where's the crispy golden-brown deliciousness?" You shrugged.
"They're better for you." Dean scoffed and shook his head.
"Better for you," he grumbled under his breath. You looked at Sam again, who looked more irritated than anything. This wasn't going well. Now came the real test. Dean picked up his burger and looked at it distrustfully.
"Where's the bacon?"
"Oh for Christ's sakes, just try it." He took a bite and began to chew. So far, so good. And then he froze.
"Y/N?" Dean said through a mouthful.
"Hm?"
"What's in my burger?"
"It's a garden turkey burger," you explained, lifting your own from your plate. Tearing the patty in half, you showed him the inside. "See? There's carrot, onion, some bell pepper. It's-"
"Better for you," he cut off, "I know." Shaking his head, Sam got up from the table and placed his empty plate in the sink before leaving the room.
"So, what do you think?" You asked. With much visible effort, Dean swallowed his bite.
"I don't like it," he replied. "Burgers are a treasure, Y/N, you don't tamper with a national treasure." You sighed, focusing on your own meal. Apparently, it had been a lost cause. At the sound of chewing, though, you looked back up at him in surprise.
"Wha- then why are you still eating it?" Dean pointed at his mouth as he continued to chew.
"I'm just double-checking." A small smile began to spread over your face as you realized what was happening. He did like it.
"Dean, if you really don't like it, I have a regular burger, bacon included, in the microwave for you." Dean shook his head, swallowing.
"What, are you kidding? There are starving kids all around the world. It would be wasteful not to eat this, all right?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you resumed your dinner.
"Does this mean you'll try a 'fry with green undertones?'"
"Nuh-uh. No."
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!
As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox are in the bio.
Tags: Irritated!Dean, protective!Dean, unconscious!Sam, reader knows nothing about the life of a hunter
Word Count: 1,788
A/N: This one was just kind of an impromptu thing. I actually got inspiration from the gif that goes with it. I might end up making this one a two-parter. Let me know if you think I should!
(Gif not mine)
"Seriously, you can't just wait for me to get there? We don't even know what we're dealing with here, Sam!" The younger Winchester sighed at his brother. Even though they were grown adults, Dean was still the most overprotective brother in the world.
"Yes we do," Sam argued. "I already told you, it's just a demon."
"Sam-"
"Dean, I'll be fine!" he reassured. "If you're so worried about it, I'll call you when I'm done. It shouldn't take longer than ten minutes at most." Dean went silent on the other end of the line for a moment.
"I just don't like you doing this alone. You've been taking a lot of hits lately." Sam gave a small huff of frustration.
"Dean..." he started again.
"All right, all right," Dean finally relinquished. "I'm giving you fifteen minutes. If I don't hear from you by then, I'm coming in there guns blazing." Sam rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, okay."
"Be careful," Dean reminded. Sam gave a nod, more to himself than anything.
"Always am." With Dean at least partially satisfied, Sam hung up the phone, stuffing the device in his jacket pocket. There had been a demon terrorizing the town for weeks, and every time the boys got a lead, it turned into a dead end. Finally, though, Sam had convinced a man at the small-town grocery store to give him an address. And he knew that if he waited for his brother, it might already be too late. Sam clutched his blade in his hand, ready for a fight. From what he could see in the pale moonlight, the house was a two-story with white shutters and light blue siding. He made his way silently up the front walkway. It was late at night, which meant that not even nosy neighbors were awake anymore. He was safe to break in without alerting the rest of the neighborhood. Sam tested the doorknob experimentally, not at all surprised when he found it locked. Thankfully, he had come prepared. He leaned down, his hands expertly picking the lock. At this point, it hardly took any time at all. As he made his way into the house, he closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, praying the hinges wouldn't squeak. Much to his relief, they didn't. Just as Sam reached for the blade in his jacket pocket, something hit him hard over the head from behind, rendering him unconscious.
You paced nervously in front of the hulking man, chewing on your lip. He had been out for nearly half an hour now. You really didn't think you had hit him that hard. You weren't sure why you hadn't called the police. It's not like you had killed him or anything. You knew this for a fact because you had checked for a pulse after tying him to a kitchen chair - a task which had not been easy. The man towered at least a foot over you and weighed a ton, the majority of which you were positive was muscle weight. His cellphone started buzzing on the nearby table again. It had first started ringing about twenty minutes ago, so you had taken it from his pocket. The person that kept calling was someone named Dean. The fact that this was the seventh time Dean had called made you nervous. Likely, the man who had broken into your home was in cahoots with someone else. And the colleague was ensuring that everything had gone off without a hitch. You crossed your arms and began to pace again. You should definitely call the police. If there was any chance you could have more burglars in your home, this wasn't something you could deal with all on your own.
The sound of the man groaning jolted you from your thoughts, and you forced yourself to stop pacing. You had to put on your best poker face now. He blinked hard several times and shook his head as if clearing fog from his thoughts. His long hair flopped over into his eyes before he gave his head another shake. When his eyes met yours, a flash of panic was evident before it faded into confusion.
"What-"
"Do you know what day it is?" you cut him off. The moon looked utterly caught off guard.
"I..." He frowned. "What?"
"Do you know what day it is?" you repeated, slower this time.
"Erm, Thursday?"
"What month?" you questioned.
"March," the man answered, this time without hesitation. You tried not to let the relief show on your face. At least you hadn't given him a concussion. You nodded.
"Okay," you said. "one more question: who the hell are you and are you in my house?"
"Um," the man started, looking moderately uncomfortable. "That's actually, uh... two questions." He flashed you a weak smile, which you thought was supposed to be charming. You planted your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes at him. "Okay, okay, sorry," he apologized. "Not really the best time for jokes." You arched an eyebrow at him, giving your best you think? expression.
"You have exactly ten seconds before I call the police."
"Sam," he put in quickly. "My name is Sam."
"Okay, Sam," you continued, heaving a sigh. "Why did you break into my house?" He licked his lips, looking nervous again, but didn't say anything. You were getting tired of this. "Ten, nine, eight, seven-"
"I'm hunting a demon," he said. "Or, was, before you knocked me out and tied me up." You took a step back.
"A demon?" you repeated with disbelief. "Oh my God, you're a psycho." Sam glared at you.
"I'm not a psycho," he retorted, sounding less than pleased. You pointed a finger at him, beginning to feel a bit hysterical.
"That's something a psycho would say!" Sam let out a huff of frustration and rolled his eyes.
"Look, can you just untie me so I can explain?"
"Oh, no. No. There is no way in hell I'm falling for that," you snapped. "I know how that ends. I untie you so you can 'explain yourself'" Sam furrowed his eyebrows at your use of air quotes. "and then I end up dead on the floor."
"That's not what-"
"Oh, just save it." You blew a few strands of hair from your face. "You're not getting out that-" Your front door flew open, hitting the wall with a loud bang. Unsure what else to do, you picked up another chair and held it threateningly above your head. A man with a bow-legged walk waltzed into your home carrying a gun, and you suddenly became aware of how useless a chair would be. Shit. When the man saw Sam tied up, he raised his gun at eye level, prepared to shoot. You forced yourself to take a deep breath.
"Drop the chair," the man said.
"Drop the gun," you replied, not wasting a second. He chuckled humorlessly.
"Okay, just drop the chair." You frowned.
"You know, you've got a lot of nerve breaking down my door and then telling me what to do in my house." The man gave you a wry expression.
"And you've got a lot of balls to get smart with a guy holding a gun." Much to your dismay, he wasn't wrong. Sam gave another huff from behind you, something you were coming to realize that he did a lot.
"Dean, would you just put the gun down? She's not the demon." Dean gave Sam a glance from over the top of his gun.
"Did you check?"
"Well, no, but-" Before Sam could finish, Dean tucked his gun in his waistband, and taking a flask from his pocket, flung a stream of water at you.
"What the hell!" you exclaimed, setting down the chair.
"Damn it!" Dean swore, brushing past you. He took a knife from another pocket and sliced open the ropes bounding Sam's hands together. You frowned, slightly taken aback. How many weapons did this man have? "So, what, this is just another wild goose chase?" Sam sighed.
"I guess." While the boys were distracted, you snatched Sam's cellphone from the table and made a break for the door.
"Hey!" Dean yelled, running after you. When a strong hand latched onto your wrist, panic bubbled up in your chest. You took in a deep breath, prepared to let out one of the loudest screams of your life, and the same hand clapped over your mouth while his other wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you in place.
"Let me go!" you shouted, though the sound was muffled by Dean's hand. He nudged the door shut, effectively cutting off all possible escape routes. You struggled against him to no avail.
"Dean, let her go," Sam chastised. "You're scaring her." Dean released you, and you moved away clumsily.
"Yeah, well, she's scaring me," he shot back. "If she screams bloody murder for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, we're toast."
"Just tell me what you want," you pleaded, backing into a wall. "I don't want any trouble." You weren't sure where this had all gone so wrong. It started out with you having it totally under control.
"Neither do we, princess," Dean growled. "So, if you could just cooperate, then that'd be friggin' peachy." Sam laid a hand on Dean's shoulder, an obvious gesture to let him do the talking.
"We're trying to help you," he explained gently. "This is my brother Dean. We hunt monsters." You eyed the pair wildly.
"I know," you said. "We've been over this. I called you a psycho." Dean took out the flask from his pocket again.
"This is holy water," he said. "Burns like hell if you're a demon."
"And the knives and gun?" you questioned, nodding towards their weapons. Sam held out his knife so you could examine the strange markings on the blade.
"Demon-killing blade," he answered. "The gun was mostly just a precaution." You shook your head. This was crazy.
"Get out," you said softly. The boys exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to you.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Get out!" you yelled at them. You pointed at the door. "I want you two the hell out of my house!" They gave you look as if they couldn't believe you were turning them away.
"But-" Sam started.
"Now!" Reluctantly, the two boys turned and left the same way they came. "And if I see you around here again, I really will call the cops next time!" you screeched as they made their way down the front walkway. You slammed the door shut behind them and locked it, then proceeding to slide weakly to the floor. Why did the weird shit always happen to you?
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