Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?
Triggers: None
Start Here | Last Part | THE END
A/N: This story is now complete!
Two years later
---
“Agent, you are amazing,”
The former special forces officer’s voice was warm and hot against her neck as he held her close. The world was safe, and it was only him and her, on the top of the icy mountain ridge.
He moved his mouth from her neck and leaned in, inches from her lips as she let her fingers comb through his hair and moved in to kiss him. Even as the battle-hardened agent she was, she could swear she heard background music swell as he leaned in and…
Living easy!
Living free!
Season ticket on a one way ride!
Groaning, you pushed away from your laptop with a heavy sigh after the initial chords of Highway to Hell had you jumping in your seat. Stretching your body and rolling your stiff shoulders from the hours spent writing, you let your head fall back against the chair before you swivelled it around.
“Dean Winchester!” You called out, knowing he’d be somewhere close by if he’d decided to treat you to one of his rock shows. Schooling your features, you made sure no sign of the smile that was threatening to break free showed as Dean’s green eyes peeked in at you from behind the door.
That boyish grin still easily sent your heart soaring after two full years together. You were sure you’d never grow immune to what that smile did to you, nor the handsome man it was attached to. Not that you wanted to grow immune. Hell, you loved him more and more every day. Even when he pulled his little tricks and broke your concentration just as you were nearly finishing up your second book in your bestselling series.
“Sorry sunshine, but you did tell me to let you know when the movers got here with the last of it,” He chuckled as he finally deemed it safe enough to come inside your home office to sneak a small kiss from your pouting lips. The damned handsome man always thought he could get away with everything that way. And, as you felt yourself melt from the taste of him on your lips, you had to admit he really could.
“Not by pulling me down a highway to hell again,” You said with a pout as you held your hands out for him to pull you out of your office chair and into his arms. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he placed a small placating kiss on your forehead.
“I’ll use Stairway to Heaven next time,” He chuckled, bright eyes smiling down on you as you reached up to trace his laugh lines before lifting yourself up to kiss the handsome prankster.
“Sometimes I wonder why I ever agreed to move in with you Mr. Winchester,” You mused as you smiled against his lips before you finally untangled yourself from him and grabbed his hand instead. Pulling him towards the front of the house. You should, after all, not let your movers wait.
“I make a mean cup of coffee, and you love my burgers,” Dean shot back, not even pretending to think it through, or even act offended, as he fell into step next to you and placed a soft peck at the back of your hand.
“True… Though I can think of a few other reasons,” You let your voice fall to a whisper as you shot him a heated look. Rolling your tongue against your bottom lips, you gave your handsome man another quick once over as your free hand traced along his upper body down towards his belt. A look that had green eyes darkening as he grabbed for you, trying to pull you up against the hard panes of his body as you quickly evaded his grasp with a teasing wink.
“We can’t keep the movers waiting,” You sing-songed back over your shoulder as you ran down the hallway. Ending your words with a squealed laugh as you heard Dean let out an indignant growl before chasing you down the hall of your new home.
After your Gabe-orchestrated “meet cute” outside Castiel’s apartment, Dean had moved back to Apartment 43 temporarily, until another apartment opened up in your building six months later. And after one and a half years of being somewhat ‘neighbours’ you had finally left apartment 11A and 32B behind to move in together. Moving into a cute little house on the outskirts of Lawrence.
It already felt like home. Even though you had only been there for a week and you didn’t even have all your furniture in place yet. None of that mattered. All you needed was each other.
Well… Each other, and the waffle iron that was with the load the movers were delivering, since you had people coming over later. Rushing to the door, your squealed laughter caused the movers to look up from where they were unloading the boxes from the truck to see you being lifted into the air by Dean just as you opened the door.
Smiling into the soft kiss Dean pressed against your lips, you gently tapped his arm. Making him put you down as he easily, as easy and naturally as breathing, entwined your fingers with his. Squeezing your hand gently before the two of you walked out onto your perfect picket fence lawn to greet the movers.
---
“Are you sure it’s in this box, sunshine?” Dean had to speak up to be heard over the music filling your small kitchen as you danced back and forth preparing for the lunch you were hosting. His task had been to find your waffle iron in the multitude of boxes, but he kept getting distracted as he came up behind you to twirl you around the room to one of his favourite songs or just place soft open-mouthed kisses against your neck.
“Never mind, I found it!” He exclaimed with a grin just as you turned to help him look. A small proud smile lighting up his face and making him look younger as you rolled your eyes at him before reaching out to pluck the waffle iron out of his hands.
Dean however, wasn’t ready to give up his hard won treasure all that easily as he held it out of your reach with a smirk before quickly placing it on the countertop behind him and grabbing your outstretched hand. Placing a soft kiss against your fingertips, he turned those forest green eyes up towards you.
“Do I get a prize?” He murmured as his lips gently brushed up your fingers before placing another kiss against the diamond ring that was nestled securely around your left ring finger. The same ring he’d nervously gotten down on one knee to give you just a week earlier. Between moving boxes and madness the day you first moved in together. Exclaiming he couldn’t wait a second longer to ask you to marry him.
“And what prize do you want Mr. Winchester,” You asked your fiancé as you turned your hand in his gentle grasp to trace the shape of his plump bottom lip.
“I can think of a few things I’d like…” Raising his eyebrows at you, Dean threw you a cheeky wink as he let his free arm snake around your waist to push your body against his. His lips chased after yours as you placed your fingers more firmly against his lips. Stopping the sneaky thief from stealing another kiss, since you knew it would just be the first of many, and so much more.
“Everyone will be here in an hour De,” You reminded him as his teeth teasingly nipped at your fingertips. Normally you would nearly always give in to your soon to be husband’s advances. After all, you could barely keep your hands off of the devastatingly handsome man. But you had one hour to get lunch ready for eight people. Including a small waffle station for Sam’s kids.
So your own little indulgence had to wait.
“We should just call them all and cancel,” Dean grumbled, but he still let go of you as you leaned up to place a placating kiss on his pouting lips with a small laugh. Moving quickly, you slipped fully out of his reach as you grabbed the waffle iron from behind him, before just as quickly going back to your little prep station to ready it.
“You know we can’t do that,” You hummed softly, as Dean slid in next to you. Quickly getting to work at chopping up the strawberries, grapes, chocolate and other waffle station ingredients while you focused on the actual batter.
It was one year, to the day, that the final verdict was passed down, and both Brian and Ketch went away for a very long time. Both of them had been sentenced for attempted murder, kidnapping and a slew of other charges. And the latest from Detective Davies was that Ketch was also facing additional new charges, which would leave him rotting in jail for a very long time. Since Charlie’s work in her new role for the Cyber Crime Unit had found proof that he’d been hindering multiple other investigations. As well as supplying classified information to some very bad people.
So, you had decided to host a lunch in your backyard. Not just to celebrate the one year anniversary of the sentencing, but also the housewarming of your new house. And, though they didn’t know it yet, to tell Charlie, Gabe, Jess and Sam about your engagement.
You wanted your family, the people you had gone through thick and thin with over the last two years, to be the first to know. Which was why there was no way you could cancel your lunch. And, after all… You and Dean had the rest of your lives together.
Your man from apartment 43 had become the man you were going to marry. You were his, and he was yours. Forever. And though it took a hellish situation to break down the wall between your apartments so you could see him for who he was, you had made it through it all, stronger than ever. You’d come to know the man behind the rock music, and you’d fallen in love with him. More and more every day.
You’d broken down all your walls, and built a home out of the scraps. Letting Dean hold your hand, you’d crossed every new bridge, together. Into a bright future, a happily ever after, that was everything you ever wanted and more.
You were happy. You were home. And you were done running.
Warnings: None, just fluff, humour and implied sex ;)
Series Summary: The reader has just shifted to a new flat and boy, someone on the floor has a really banging sex life! The passionate moans have been keeping her up for several nights in row and enough is enough! Reader has her suspicions, but is it really the green-eyed hottie from room no. 307?
A/N: It’s a neighbours!AU. I’m finally writing one. So excited to share it with you guys. Hope y’all like it! <3
Beta: The best babe, @deanssweetheart23
Everything was fine till the banging started. Pun very much intended.
The shift had been smooth, the job was going great and life was finally on track. You had slid under the covers with the most satisfied smile in years only to be woken up to a lady very, very, very happy with her life.
Oh yeah… oh yeah… ahhh right there… oh fuck yeah…
You sat up right in your bed, eyes wide, face hot.
Third night in a row. Third fucking night. Literally.
What in the good heavens? The landlady might have mentioned this while renting out the flat!
Shoving the pillow over your ears, you fell back onto the mattress, closing your eyes shut very tightly. Eventually sleep overtook you and you lapsed into lousy dreams of trying to catch the taxi which kept evading you. Not a metaphor for your sex life at all. Nope.
The disturbed sleep didn’t help your mood the following day. Everyone at the office thought of you as a happy-go lucky person. Lately, they were seeing this whole new dark side of you. Sleep was essential to your functioning.
In the evening, on your way back, you stopped by the coffee shop downstairs to pick up a brownie. It was a little place; busy yet quaint. The barista, Charlie, made two hearts in your coffee instead of one. That put the biggest smile on your face.
At least, the day was ending on a high note.
Your newly rented flat was on the third floor of a very complicated building. One staircase did not directly lead into another. An entire hallway had to be crossed to get to it. The design probably broke a hundred different by laws and someone was definitely paid off in the city civil office to get a construction permit. You did not want to imagine how the people would fare in case of a fire emergency. Learning the escape plan was like memorising the map of a treasure hunt. You escape, you win. You lose… whoops! Better luck in next life. But the rent was cheap and you were already living all the clichés of a struggling writer- one incomplete book, a job at a publishing house and addiction to coffee. So, yes, you would brave fire when it came to being able to afford a living.
Struggling with the brownie package and the coffee in your hand you jammed the key into the door. It didn’t go in.
What the hell?
You tried again, and once more the key got jammed. On a closer look, you realised that the lock didn’t resemble yours at all. Stepping back, you peered at the door. 307. Not 306- which was yours.
The floor design was insane and instead of the flats being lined up next to each other, they were all fronting one another in a haphazard fashion. Shaking your head, you took a step back and jammed the key into the lock of your own flat.
Jesus! You’re losing it, Y/N.
Shirking off the mild irritation, you cooked yourself a hot cup of instant noodles, put on your favourite TV show and slinked into your couch. Tonight’s episode was going to reveal who the murderer was and you had been dying for the suspense to finally end.
Just when the protagonist was about to point a gun at the killer in the shadows…
Oh my God... you’re incredible… aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh…
You completely abandoned the TV and jumped up from the sofa. The fire hazard might still be worth it, but the thin walls so weren’t.
On tiptoes, you made your way to the east side wall, putting your ear against it. The noise wasn’t coming from upstairs. That was the only sure thing. But it was impossible to pinpoint the direction. The moans were reverberating through the walls. So loudly that there was no escaping it. Not in the bedroom, the kitchen or the living room sofa.
Of all of them, the east wall seemed like the culprit.
Right there… yeah…
307. Whoever it was in that room needed to calm the FUCK down. You grabbed your blanket and dragged it to the end of the living room, fuming. What ticked you off was how much this was ticking you off.
It’s sleep you told yourself. The lack of sleep was the only thing making you mad. The sex noises couldn’t be it. Because there were other noises- a dog barked somewhere occasionally, one of the rooms had a very loud stereo and someone was too much into baking- the beater was ceaseless. No, it had to be the timing and your wrecked sleep schedule.
Just like the nights before, you covered your ears and started reciting the story of the manuscript you had been reading at work. Eventually, sleep overtook you again.
The next morning you woke up in a crappier mood. If that was even possible.
Breathing down on anything and everything, you locked the door on your way out for work. Turning into the corridor, you ran into a wall of solid flesh.
In your groggy, sleep deprived state, the first thing you noticed was the way he smelled- leather and whiskey and something headier than that. It was divine. Next, you looked up into those eyes- stunning green, like sparkling water running over jade.
“Easy there, sweetheart!” The guy smirked.
You straightened yourself and took a step back. In front of you stood the most handsome guy you had ever seen. He was tall, with dirty blond hair, almost brown, and those stunning eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” you muttered, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You had one of those dumb faces that gave away every damn thought crossing through your brain, so obviously you tried your best not to meet his gaze. Which was a shame really. That face demanded to be ogled at. Let alone the body that followed.
“No, no… I didn’t mind at all.”
You saw him reach out to the door of 307.
“You’re the one who lives there?” You asked through gritted teeth.
He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. You want a tour?”
Uhgg the best looking guy and he has to be such a douche!
Slipping past him, you stomped off towards the stairs. This too-good-looking-for-the-world asshat had been ruining your nights and in turn your life.
You knew it was wrong to be mad at him without, at least, talking about the issue first. A polite conversation explaining your situation wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world now, would it? But how does one start a conversation pertaining to that? After all, he wasn’t exactly the one making the noise. What would you say?
So, hey would you mind pleasuring your girlfriend a little less?
Or better. Ever heard of a ball gag?
Mere thought of it made you shudder.
The work day was spent trying to shove your neighbour's stupidly handsome face out of your mind. It didn’t help that your mother kept calling, repeatedly. You knew what she had to say. How you should have taken that bigger job at Royal’s publishing. How the writing career might never take off. How you really should get a boyfriend now, or you’ll be the only unmarried cousin in the family.
Usually you could entertain your mother with well-timed hmms and ahhs. Today wasn’t that day.
Bone-tired and absentminded, you jammed the key in the keyhole in the evening, only for it to get stuck again. You looked up at the door. 307.
Well, shit!
Putting both your hands into it, you yanked the key with all your might, just as the door opened. There he stood, with his crooked smirk, dimples digging in, wearing nothing but a thin cotton t-shirt and sweatpants that hung all too low on those hips.
“You don’t need to break into my house. I already offered a tour.” Of course, god gave him an irresistible voice. Cause at this point, why not?
“Sorry,” you muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “I keep getting the wrong door. This one’s mine.”
“Oh, so you’re the one in 306!” You could feel his smirk more than see it. “Looks like you’re having a good ol’ time in there.”
“Excuse me?”
The guy raised scratched the back of his neck, face apologetic. “You might… ya know… just keep the voice down in there?”
The audacity of this guy!
“Rich of you to ask anyone to keep it down!” You hissed. “Why don’t you tell your girlfriend to keep it low?”
With that, you shut your door in his surprised face. The worst part was, after bumping into him in the morning, your mind was producing distinct images of him in the bed, doing things to a woman. You had tried your best not to let them make a home in your head. But like a stickly tenant, they refused to evacuate. No wonder it was hard to look him in those brilliant, brilliant green eyes. The guy was hot! There was no denying that. You weren’t even willing to accept to yourself just how much time you had put into imagining him naked.
If anything, the denial mixed with your pre-existing irritation and sleep deprivation had you ready tonight.
So the moment the enamoured voice started begging, you hopped out of your chair. You had every intention of yelling yourself hoarse at the delectable resident next door, but the moment you stepped into the corridor, you came face to face with the very man.
He was- thankfully, completely clothed- looking a bit harassed, himself.
aahhhh… ahhhh… ahhh… right there...
Your head whipped up to the suspected direction of the voice, and back at him. “Wait, you aren’t… it’s not...?”
His face mirrored your expression of surprise and then he burst out laughing. “Looks like we’ve both been played.”
“Not intentionally,” you said, peering at the adjacent doors, mostly to not look at him. “Where do you think it’s coming from?”
He shot a glance at the door opposite to his. “If it’s not you, my best guess is that guy over there. I mean, if you ask me, Nick over there doesn’t look the type to make a woman that happy… but what do I know?”
“You shouldn’t make assumptions about people,” you said, taking a tentative step towards the said door.
Mr. hot guy smartpants laughed. “Oh, trust me. He’s the douchiest douche you’ll ever meet. Guy like that? Definitely selfish in bed.”
You frowned at him.
“He asks women in the street to smile more,” hot guy explained.
“Uhhgg… yeah you’re right. It’s definitely not him.”
Hot guy pointed his fingers at the rest of the doors. “That one’s rented by three guys. I don’t think it’s them. Mrs. Hendrickson over there works night shifts. I have no clue who lives in there,” he pointed to the last door, directly in front of you.
Goodness you’re amazing...
“Yes, lady, we already know!” He called out.
You couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.
His eyes softened. “Dean Winchester,” he said, offering his hand.
“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, taking his. He had a firm grip. A very funny sensation gripped your stomach. Like a flutter. Nervousness?
“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” He smirked. “I sure wish the circumstances were better.”
You bit your lip. “Listen, I’m sorry for the comment about your girlfriend. I was just mad about, you know... “
“Don’t worry about it. My non-existent girlfriend is very cool. She took no offense.”
You snorted.
“I was dead serious about the house tour,” He winked. “I can promise great coffee.”
“Sure, sometime soon.”
He shot a look at the door with the unknown occupants again. “I hate to leave this here, but I think we should get whatever kind of shuteye we can while they’re quiet over there, huh?”
“Oh, yeah!” You hurried back to your flat. “Night, Dean.”
He gave you his crooked grin again, just a hint of mischief. “Night, Y/N.”
You knew it wasn’t him now, and he was right about making the most of the quiet and fucking off to sleep, and yet, each time you closed your eyes, your mind decided to replay your imaginations for you. With a start, you sat up in your bed, a thought occurring to you like a hit on the head- If you had been thinking about him that way? Had he been imagining you as well?
Blood rushed to your face at the very idea. Though a tiny part of you begged for the answer- would it be such a bad thing if he had?
*********************
A/N 2: So? So? SO??? What do you think?
I value each and every reblog more than I can tell you! Thank you! Feedback is love and life!
This series will have a total of 5 or 6 parts max.
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Summary: When Dean’s little brother, Sam, has a life threatening accident and Dean has to move in while he recovers, that means moving in with his brother’s six year old daughter and taking care of them both as long as they need. But what Dean doesn’t expect, is to get to know the girl next door and how a simple misplaced package will change all of their lives forever…
Pairing: Neighbor/Mechanic!Dean x baker!reader
Word Count: ~50K (individual counts in parts)
Warnings: language, car accidents, mentions of injury/death/depression/past suicide attempts, self-worth issues, implied smut & may cause cravings for sweets
Summary: Dean heads over to his neighbor’s apartment to hang out until his one-night stand leaves, as he usually does. But he’s in for a surprise when instead of a normal quiet morning with his quiet, calm neighbor, her apartment is teeming with people and life and the kind of life he never imagined she’d be a part of
Word Count: 3646
Warnings: None
A/N: So... this was supposed to be a normal fic where Dean hides out from his one-night stands, but it kinda morphed into a sitcom-feeling fic. It’s different from what I normally write, so I hope y’all like it! Let me know!
Version En Español: Lo Inesperado
Better safe than sorry, Dean thought as he slipped on some sweatpants and a grey Henley. With one last glance at the sleeping woman in his bed, he closed his bedroom door and walked through his apartment to his front door. His keys somehow made it in the bowl by the door the previous night. Strange, considering he didn’t know where the rest of his clothing from yesterday went.
Well, Dean grabbed the keys and quietly slipped into the hallway. At least I don’t have to search for the keys and risk Becca? Janelle? Theresa? Whatever her name is waking up when I’m still here.
That hadn’t been a fun morning a few weeks ago. Whoever she was, she did NOT want to leave. He didn’t get that clingy vibe from his latest fuck, but he didn’t want to risk it.
Flipping through his keys, he found the one with green nail polish painted on and slipped it into the doorknob of the apartment across the hall. It was only seven o’ clock. Y/N was probably still asleep. After all, she rarely got home before three in the morning. Dean had no idea what she did all night on the weekends, but whatever it was, she was always exhausted.
One of these days he would get her to talk about herself. For a neighbor who seemed perfectly fine with someone hanging out in their apartment until his never-ending string of women left his apartment for their walk of shame, Y/N was surprisingly closed off about herself. It had been over three months of him spending nearly every Saturday morning in her apartment, and he barely knew anything about her. Hell, he didn’t even know where she worked.
Maybe today he could coax a few details out of her after he made breakfast. Some bacon and some—shit. He left the bacon at his apartment. Dean opened the front door and walked into her familiar entryway. He wasn’t about to go back to his place.
Something was off… something wasn’t right… Dean paused right inside and sniffed the air.
“Bacon?” He mumbled. Not only was Y/N awake, but she was cooking? One thing he knew about her was that she couldn’t cook to save her life.
“Brock, get your lazy ass up!” Y/N’s loud shout was followed by a loud thump and her laughter. “Dude, your mom is going to be here in, like, an hour. And you smell like a strip club.”
“Fuck off, Y/N,” a male voice grumbled. Hearing anyone talk to Y/N like that made Dean bristle, but she just laughed it off.
What the hell? Dean headed further into the apartment, but stopped cold when he saw another man standing at the stove, wearing an apron, flipping bacon. That wasn’t Brock, was it?
“I’m getting a glass of cold water, Brock,” the man in front of Dean called out, not making a move to back up his threat. “It’s either that or an actual nice, warm shower.”
“Fuck off, Dylan!” Brock yelled, sounding slightly more awake.
Dylan, Dean presumed, turned around to grab something, but froze at the sight of Dean. “Who are you?”
“I’m, uh, I’m—who are you?” And why are you in Y/N’s kitchen at seven in the morning on Saturday?
“Hey, Y/N?” Dylan called out, watching Dean carefully. “There’s a dude in your kitchen.”
“I’ve told you a million times, Dyl. You’re just looking in the mirror. That man is just—oh, hey Dean.” At the sight of her easy acceptance of the newcomer, Dylan relaxed and continued with his mission, grabbing a plate with the practiced ease of someone who definitely knew his way around Y/N’s kitchen.
“Dean, huh?” Dylan asked casually. “You make it a habit of walking into random women’s apartments in the morning, Dean?”
“He lives across the hall,” Y/N explained, and Dean finally looked over at her, only to see her watching him with a slightly amused smile playing around her lips. “Dean doesn’t like dealing with the morning after shit with his one-nights. So he hides out here and I usually get breakfast out of the deal. You’re off the hook today, Dee.”
“Uh huh. And Dylan and Brock are…”
“Friends.”
Dean didn’t miss the raised eyebrow Dylan threw Y/N at her short explanation. Nor did he miss the way she shook your head in answer to Dylan’s look. Whoever these men were, Y/N knew them well.
“Friends,” Dean repeated, knowing that everyone could pick up on the doubt in his voice.
“Yup. And speaking of Brock,” Y/N turned your head back towards the bedrooms and yelled out, “I’m not entertaining your mom while you get ready, dude. Get the hell moving.”
“Fuck off, Y/N,” Brock said at the same time Y/N and Dylan mimicked his words. Apparently that was Brock’s catchphrase.
Y/N shifted her weight until she was facing Dean. “Sorry about them. We had a late night and my place was closest, so they all crashed here.”
Dean was about to ask what everyone was doing so late, but Dylan spoke up first, beating him to the punch. “Speaking of crashing here, where did Logan and Bethany go?”
“Probably on a run, those crazy kids.”
“Fuck!” Brock’s voice echoed through the apartment. “My mom’s coming today!”
With an eye roll, Y/N grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate Dylan just made up and headed towards the bedrooms. “Here, Brocky. Have some bacon then go shower.”
“No, you don’t get it. She’s coming today.”
“Yeah. In an hour. So go shower.”
“Y/N.”
“Brock.”
“I haven’t told her about us yet.”
Dylan dropped the spatula he was holding and started laughing so hard he nearly fell over. Whatever the hell was going on, Dean was completely out of the loop.
“What the hell, Brock!” Now it was Y/N’s voice echoing down the tiled hallway. “We broke up two years ago! How have you not told her yet? And don’t say the topic never came up. I know she asks about me whenever you call. She loves me.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. If I told her we broke up, she would be heartbroken. I couldn’t do that to her right after… then she was diagnosed and… It just never really was the right time.”
There was silence for a good minute. Dean had learned more about his mysterious neighbor in the last five minutes than the entire half a year he’d known her. He was slightly overwhelmed, but he wanted to know more. What kind of silent conversation was she having with Brock? Why was her ex sleeping at her place, and who was the guy cooking in her kitchen?
The front door opened again, and two more people came in, sweaty and dressed to exercise. This must be Bethany and Logan, the other people who crashed here and went for a run. They noted his presence, but didn’t appear concerned in the least.
Bethany nodded her blonde head towards Dean. “Hey Dyl, who’s this?”
“Beth, Loge, meet Dean. Y/N’s across-the-hall-neighbor who hides from his one-night stands over here. Oh, and Brock never told his mom that he and Y/N broke up.”
That news overshadowed Dean’s presence. Both heads jerked towards Dylan in disbelief. “Seriously? It’s been two years.”
Before Dylan could respond, Y/N and Brock’s conversation turned verbal again.
“No!” She exclaimed. “Dude, I can’t lie to your mom.”
“C’mon, Y/N/N! She doesn’t have that long and you know she will just be so heartbroken.”
More silence. All four people in the kitchen seemed to lean towards the hallway, straining to hear any more of the conversation.
“Go shower, Brock,” Y/N said softly, voice barely carrying through the apartment. “I’ll think about it. I hate the idea of lying to your mom though.”
Y/N walked into the kitchen, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if warding off a headache. “That man is going to be the death of me, I swear.”
“He wants you to pretend to still be dating him so he doesn’t disappoint Reyna, right?” Bethany asked. Y/N nodded and sank down on a bar stool. Logan pushed a plate full of bacon towards her and she took a big bite. Bethany sat next to Y/N and stole a piece of bacon for herself.
“Well, you kind of have to. I mean, it’s not like you can drop this bomb on her now. What would you even say? Hey Reyna, your son is awesome, and I’m awesome, but we decided that we’re just not awesome together. You know, we decided that two years ago, but he never told you because he thought you were too fragile? You can’t say that.”
Y/N groaned loudly.
“I heard that groan!” Brock shouted from the bathroom. “Fake dating me is gonna be fun Y/N!”
“Fuck off, Brock!” She shouted right back.
Bethany finished off her bacon and stood up, grabbing a bag that was on the floor near the couch in the living room. “Since Brock stole your shower, I think I’m gonna head over and use your shower, Dean. That okay?”
“Uh, no?” Logan said before Dean could answer. “I called first shower dibs. I get to use Dean’s shower.”
“What about…” Dean blanked on his one night stand’s name.
Y/N lifted her head from the counter and shot Dean a knowing smile. “Stephanie. You slept with Stephanie last night. She’s cool. She’s actually coming over for breakfast right now.”
What the fuck? How much stranger could this morning get? “How do you know who I slept with?” And why did you invite the person I’m hiding from over for breakfast?
“She texted me. Said she woke up in an apartment that looked a lot like mine, and that her living dildo ditched her. I connected the dots.”
“Living dildo?”
A twinkle sparked in Y/N’s eyes and she stood up, steering Dean further away from the kitchen and into the living room where they could have a bit more privacy. “Yeah. She’s not gonna get all clingy. I promise. You were just as much a fun fuck to her as I’m sure she was to you.” Y/N glanced back at the kitchen. “Sorry about… them.”
Dean looked up from Y/N’s face just in time to see Bethany and Logan wrestle for the door before Logan victoriously shut the door in Bethany’s face, leaving her still in Y/N’s apartment. Well, it seemed that Dean’s shower was going to be put to good use.
“They’re… interesting. Y’all are really just friends?”
Y/N shrugged. “Yeah. Mostly. I guess we’re more like family at this point, though.”
Leaning against the wall, Dean eyed his neighbor openly. “You don’t say much about yourself.”
“Well, I have a feeling you’re going to learn a hell of a lot in the next little bit. If you want to be able to leave at all today, I suggest you get out now. As soon as Brock’s mom comes in, she won’t let anyone leave. She will suck you into her vortex of adventure and insist that you come along today. So, really, if you have any plans at all today, you should—”
“Look who was loitering out in the hallway!” Logan announced, coming back into the apartment. He was pushing a woman in a wheelchair and grinning widely. “Think I should call the police? Loitering is a crime, after all.”
“Sweetie, if you do call the cops, make sure to request the cute ones,” the lady said in a southern accent. “If anyone’s gonna be putting this old woman in handcuffs, they’d better be downright gorgeous. Oh! Just like that piece of eye candy over there! Y/N, is that your new man?”
“My… what now?”
The lady, Reyna, Dean guessed, started laughing. She waved behind her and a second woman stepped forward, taking Reyna’s hand. “Clarice, I told you Brock thinks I still don’t know they broke up. Y/N, sweetie, come over here. Let me see you. You always were too good for my son.”
“Fuck off, mom!” Brock shouted, walking into the room with damp hair. Everyone chuckled at his entrance. “How long have you known?”
“My body might be dying, boy, but I’ve still got all the right parts firing in my brain. Y’all stopped posting pictures of just the two of you. All that I saw online was pictures of your whole band. I figured something was up then. Wondered if you’d ever man up and tell me yourself.”
The front door opened yet again, and in walked the woman Dean slept with the night before. Stephanie, according to Y/N.
Stephanie looked around the room, taking everything in for a moment before her eyes landed on Dean and her lips curled up in a grin. “Hey lover. Your shower is amazing.”
Logan and Bethany made eye contact for a brief second before both of them sprinted for the door. Bethany won this time, leaving Logan inside, banging on the door. “I’m telling mom you’re being mean to me!”
“Cry baby!” Came her call back before Dean heard the unmistakable sound of his front door slamming shut.
“Whatever, I’ll just use Y/N’s shower since Brock is out,” Logan mumbled. He stooped to give Reyna a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t tell too many jokes before I get back.”
“And I need to finish getting ready,” Y/N announced. She grabbed Reyna’s hand and squeezed it before standing up and heading over to Dean. “You’re welcome to stay. Or you’re welcome to go.”
His eyes shot around the room and counted everyone. Considering he’d only ever seen Y/N in her apartment, it was strange, to say the least, to see seven other people circulating in and out of the place. “I, uh…”
“Here, c’mon.” Y/N grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Dean hadn’t ever been further than her kitchen, and he soaked up every detail he could. The dark and slightly disturbing artwork on one side of the hallway, whereas bright colors splashed on canvases on the other. A peek into one of her extra rooms showed blankets, air mattresses, and a futon strewn across the floor. The third bedroom was closed, but the door looked different than the others. Sturdier. That definitely piqued Dean’s interest.
Then he was following her into the master bedroom, though it wasn’t really a bedroom.
Sure, there was a bed and a chest of drawers, but that was about it for normal bedroom things. A keyboard was set against one wall, two guitars and a banjo were set in stands beside it, and a single snare drum was chilling in the corner.
“Did I hear Reyna say something about a band?” Dean finally put some pieces together.
“Mm-hmm.” Y/N shut the door and headed over to the chest of drawers. A mirror was leaning against the wall, and she sat down and pulled out some makeup.
“You’re in a band. And you never thought to tell me?” Dean walked further into the room and inspected the instruments closer. “This is awesome.”
“Question for you,” she said, leaning closer to the mirror as she started applying the makeup. Dean caught her eyes in the reflection. “Do you get shy around groups of people, or what? Because you’ve barely said two words since you got here and I’ve never heard you that quiet.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to walk into a crazy party when I came over at seven am.”
Y/N’s smile escaped for a second before she schooled her features into neutral expression and put on some lipstick. As soon as she was done, she spun around on her stool and eyed Dean. He’d moved over and was lounging on her bed. “And I bet you weren’t expecting me to invite your one night stand over for breakfast either, huh?”
He laughed. “Yeah, that too. Besides, you’re always so quiet. I guess I was just surprised when I walked in and everyone kept talking and talking. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise anyway.”
Y/N nodded and walked over, settling on the bed next to Dean. He’d literally slept with her friend not even twelve hours before. It should make him feel like a giant douche the way his heart seemed to quicken at that simple movement, but strangely enough, he didn’t feel any sort of guilt or other negative emotion. Everyone in this apartment was open and welcoming. There were no hard feelings. For crying out loud, Y/N had her ex-boyfriend sleeping under her room and they still seemed to argue like siblings.
“Yeah,” she said, staring at her ceiling. “Everyone here does seem to have huge personalities.”
“Damn right we do!” Logan said, stepping out of the master bathroom wearing only a towel. “Here’s a tip, Dean. If you wanna say something around us, just say it. Loudly, otherwise no one will hear you.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Y/N muttered fondly. She eyed Logan sideways. “Now go find some pants.”
“What about a shirt?”
“Logan, honey, your abs are a gift to this world. Don’t worry about a shirt.”
He struck some poses, flexing his muscles theatrically until his towel started slipping and he hurried to grab it before it fell to the ground. Y/N just laughed and pointed to the door. “Pants.”
After a salute, Logan left the room, shutting the door behind him.
“You’re doing it again,” Dean said, making Y/N raise an eyebrow and look over at him. “Deflecting. Anytime I ask you about yourself, you somehow bring the conversation back to me. I want to hear about your band.”
She seemed to consider his words for a long moment before shifting so she was laying on her side, facing Dean. “Okay. What do you wanna know about it?”
“You’re in a band with your ex, I wanna know everything. How does that even work?”
“Easier now that we’re broken up. All of us went to high school together. That’s when Brock and I were together. We decided to start a band and it started picking up a few months after we graduated. When we were together, we were always fighting about the band. So everyone made us sit down and choose between our relationship or the band. The band was more important to both of us, and that was that. Considering how easy it was to go back to being friends, it’s pretty obvious we weren’t meant to be together.”
Dean’s eyes flicked over Y/N’s face as she told the story. He’d enjoyed the glimpse into her life from everyone else out in the living room, but hearing it from her own lips was even better.
“Still overwhelmed? You seemed pretty overwhelmed out there with everyone.”
Oh no. She wasn’t about to deflect. “What do you do in the band?”
“Everything. All of us were band geeks and we learned so many different instruments. So, besides the usual band instruments like flute, saxophone, and trumpet, we all learned guitar, bass, and enough drums to get by. Brock is our drummer though. That’s where he spends most of his time.”
“Why haven’t you told me this before?”
She shrugged, as much as she could, anyway. It was hard to shrug when laying on your side. “I don’t really like talking about myself. Whenever we get interviewed, everyone else usually answers the questions. I… I deflect, like you said. They’re better at it anyway.”
Interviewed? “How big is your band?”
“We’re getting there,” was all she said. Seeing the questions in his eyes, she gave in. “We’re leaving on a tour in a few weeks. That’s why Reyna came. She’s here to see our last local show and take Brock on a vacation before we leave for Europe.”
“Europe?”
“Just as an opening band… for Yearly Telling.”
Holy… “Shit, Y/N! That’s amazing!”
Her lips curled up into a soft smile. “Yeah, it is. We’ve gone on a few North American tours with other small bands. The kinds of tours where we book small venues and people buy the tickets because they’re cheap and they like live music. This is our first headliner tour.”
Even though Dean was more into classic rock, and bands that didn’t tour anymore, even he knew about Yearly Telling. The few songs he’d listened to weren’t bad. In fact, he actually liked them. And even as technologically challenged as he was, he knew that Yearly Telling was blowing up the charts.
“You said Reyna’s here to see your last local show?”
Y/N nodded. “Tonight, at Budd’s. Just a small, laid back bar. Do you wanna come?”
Hell yes. “Well, didn’t you say that as soon as Reyna came, I wouldn’t be allowed to leave?”
Y/N was about to answer when her bedroom door opened and Bethany and Stephanie came strolling in. Bethany’s hair was damp from her shower, and Stephanie was talking enthusiastically. She cut off when she noticed Y/N and Dean on the bed. “Hey you two. Y/N, is it cool if I steal some of your makeup? Thanks, babe!”
“I have some different tones in my bottom drawer,” Y/N replied, obviously used to Stephanie’s mannerisms. “I actually think some of them are yours, from when you lived here.”
“Awesome. Anyway, as I was saying Beth, this chick had a bouffant. Literally, a bouffant. She was like, twenty-something and her hair looked like a freaking beehive. I asked her what kind of hairspray she uses, because if I’m coming on tour with you guys as all y’all’s groupie, I have to perfect my slutty sideshow look.”
Dean let out a heavy sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when Stephanie came into the room. Y/N was right. She definitely wasn’t clingy at all. Y/N just smirked at him and shifted until she was sitting. “C’mon, Dean Let’s go grab some breakfast before Brock and Logan eat it all.”
Me continuing the new Neighbor!Dean chapter: I’m going to hell.
I mean not that once I got to know of Jensen Ackles there was a possibility I’d go anywhere else but oh now, now I sure as heck am going to hell. And I’m dragging you all down there with me!
Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?
Triggers: Some feelings of low self worth
Y/N = Your name | Y/L/N = Your last name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour |
Start Here | Last Part | Epilogue
A/N: This is the last part of the main story! However, please stay tuned for next week's epilogue! I hope you enjoyed the story!
Reader
Placing the last of the bags filled with kitchen supplies on your new counter you sighed wearily. When Gabe said he wanted to go shopping you hadn’t imagined that he meant buying you a whole apartment’s worth of stuff.
The place had already been furnished when you went to visit it two days ago, but between then and now, Gabriel had gotten rid of everything and exchanged it with items that looked nearly the same, but carried a much heftier price tag. He’d outdone himself with shopping marathons in an effort to make sure your apartment was fully stocked, along with a full wardrobe.
All to stick it to his old man.
Still, you were nearly settled. Apart from sorting through the last few bags on your kitchen counter, your friends had helped you unpack everything else. Hell, Gabe would have still been there helping (if you could call it that), if you hadn’t seen him off half an hour ago so you could finish up the last few bits and pieces yourself.
Or more like, chased him out… Since the clutz had broken two glasses trying to get them out of the box and into your cupboards. Without washing them.
Looking around your new apartment, you bit your lip as you leaned against the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. It was still just that. An apartment. Even with Gabe going to nearly extreme lengths to find things that suited you and make it a home, you just couldn’t call it that yet. It still felt cold and foreign. Like everything had felt since you left the Winchester Cabin.
But you knew it wasn’t the apartment’s fault. No, apartment 11A was beautiful and roomy and way out of your budget. With big windows, two bedrooms and a small balcony for when you felt ready to resume your weekly brunch sessions. The apartment was amazing. It was just missing something…
Or someone.
The last four days had been hectic, with the lease signing, Charlie and Gabe dragging you out for mandatory shopping therapy and fending off journalists every step of the way. But through it all, your mind had never left Dean Winchester.
Still, now that you were settled, it was time to say to hell with the media. You had to put your foot down on the constant meetings with the police or the lawyers. And get some time away from your friends who, god bless them, seemed afraid to even leave you alone for a single second. You couldn’t make excuses anymore. You’d promised yourself you would stop running away.
You needed Dean’s green eyes, his comforting smile and the sound of his voice to fill the empty space and warm the chill in the air… Hell, it didn’t feel like the apartment would truly feel like home until he was back in your life. It had only been 20 days, but it felt like a lifetime. After those harrowing 12 days, you just couldn’t go back to normal. Not if your new normal didn’t include the man from apartment 43.
Even if he wasn’t your neighbour anymore.
Scowling at the bags next to you on the kitchen counter, you mimed rolling up your sleeves as your oversized t-shirt just wasn’t dramatic enough for the task at hand and started unpacking the boxes of cutlery, plates and glasses. Once you were done, you’d find a way to reach out to Dean. Hell, even if you had to go to his place and knock on his door… You’d manage. You could do it… If it meant getting to see those brilliant green eyes again.
You’d just pretend you couldn’t see the big number 42 on the door next to his.
---
You’d barely gotten the first few pieces of cutlery free from the finicky cardboard box they came in when your phone chimed next to the mess of bags and boxes. Drawing your eyes away from the small plastic bindings that tied each knife to the cardboard, you glanced at your screen. Before dropping what you were doing when you were met with Gabe’s name on the incoming message.
Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, before immediately regretting your decision. Groaning silently to yourself once you read the short message. Your read receipt would have already shown Gabe you’d seen it. Which meant you had no choice but to reply.
Gabe
I forgot to tell you. You should go say hi to the neighbours.
Gabe
At least the one across the hall from you. That’s the “in” I got you. I wouldn’t have been able to secure the apartment if it wasn’t for 12B.
Before you could even type a message back to explain how you weren’t ready to play meet and greet with a bunch of new neighbours, Gabriel seemed to sense your excuse as he offered up an alternative; only one neighbour. Yet… You didn’t feel up to meeting any new strangers. Not when you were sure that, whoever they were, they would have seen you on the news. And you just couldn’t deal with any more pitying looks.
This was supposed to be your new start.
You wouldn’t let it be mired by looks of pity and more whispers behind your back. Shaking your head you typed out a short reply to Gabe, hoping he wouldn’t push further. Though you knew he’d gone to great lengths to get you the apartment. You knew you owed him, and the neighbour in apartment 12B, a lot. But you just needed some more time. Preferably enough time for the newspapers to stop plastering your face across them.
(Y/N)
I will… But not now. I’m busy organising the kitchen.
Pausing, you stared at the screen. Grimacing at the clipped and nearly cowardly way the words looked to you on your screen. They looked like an excuse. Hell, they were an excuse. Yet, you still felt the need to soften them as you quickly typed a follow up, ignoring the dots showing that Gabe was already writing a retort with a small smirk on your lips.
(Y/N)
And somehow I’m managing WITHOUT breaking any glasses.
The three dots indicating Gabriel was typing stopped for a second, before they showed up again. And you could nearly picture him furiously erasing the words in order to defend his own clumsiness.
Gabe
There were chips in them! They just exploded, it’s not my fault I’m so damn hot even glass melts in my hands.
Rolling your eyes at your phone, you laughed out loud at your best friend's words. Before flinching a bit at how hollow it sounded in the empty apartment. You hadn’t been alone in… Hell. Since the start of the whole damn nightmare. And the silence felt empty and all consuming at the same time as you cut your laugh short to focus on the messages coming rapid fire from Gabe’s side.
Gabe
But! Please go right away.
Gabe
I know it’s… Soon.
Gabe
But your neighbour is nice. I pinky promise.
Gabe
And I just got a text wondering if you’d settled in fine.
Gabe
Since your neighbour is home now, it’s best to go now.
Gabe
Please? For me?
His words were followed by just an endless spammed row of pleading emojis as you grimaced at the piece of plastic in your hand. You really didn’t feel up for meeting any strangers yet, but you didn’t want to ruin Gabe’s friendship with whomever it was.
Especially since Gabriel seemed to, uncharacteristically, care about what this mystery neighbour thought. Maybe it was a hookup? One of his friends with benefits? Or someone who meant a little more, that Gabe hadn’t gotten around to introduce you to? Either way, shooting back a single ‘ok’, you pocketed your phone and scowled down at your mess of a kitchen. It would have to wait.
First you had to go greet the damn neighbours. No one did that anymore. Did they?
But hell… Maybe it was better to know who was living nearby. Especially considering how your former neighbour had saved your life. Though you hoped you’d never have to deal with anything like that ever again. There was only one man next door that mattered to you. Even though he was no longer next door to you.
Walking over to your front door, you took a few deep breaths. You couldn’t help it. The idea of the unknown, which before had felt thrilling to you, now only terrified you. You knew that there was just an empty hallway on the other side of the door. Yet you still had to psych yourself up before you cautiously opened the door, just a smidge, and looked out into the hallway. Not breathing until you were sure it was completely empty.
Opening the door fully, you looked at the number 12B across the hall. As you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but look around again. Worried someone would jump out of the shadows the moment you left yourself open and vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, you left your door halfway open as an easy escape route, should you need it. Before wrapping your arms around yourself and taking the two steps across the hall to 12B. Keeping your eyes on the number, you quieted the small part of you wishing you were looking at the familiar number 43 instead.
Lifting your hand to knock, you hesitated for a second. Your eyes falling as you looked down at your own sock clad feet. Should you have put on shoes? Or would that have been weirder? Frowning at your own feet, you kept your eyes down as you let your knuckles hit against the wood of your neighbours door.
Your eyes were still cast downward as you heard the door open. Your neighbour had clearly been waiting for you. Maybe Gabe told them you were coming? Nearly no time had passed between your knock and the click of the door’s lock. Which meant you had no time to prepare yourself as you wet your lips and tried to find the correct words.
“Hi, I’m your new neighbour, I just moved in across the hall…” You rattled out the first words that came to your mind as you cautiously lifted your downcast eyes to look up at your new neighbour. Yet, as your eyes finally locked with his, your voice died in your throat. Whatever else you’d planned to say was drowned out in a sea of brilliant green as Dean Winchester looked down at you, eyes wide in shock that mirrored yours.
It was Dean, framed by the doorway of apartment 12B as you simply stared up at him. Lips slightly parted around the empty words you’d planned to say as you struggled to remember how to breathe.
It had been so long, and yet, the moment you saw him again it felt like no time had passed at all. You wanted… No, you needed to talk to him. But your heart was in your throat as you tried to find the words… The right words, to tell your saviour next door. The words you’d promised yourself you’d tell him when you finally met him again.
No more running.
Trying to find your voice and the oxygen needed to shape them, your eyes strayed to his full lips before refocusing on those still wide eyes taking you in. Clearing away your shock, you started over again.
“Hi… I just… Gabe got me a new place and told me to come introduce myself. I’m there…” You waved numbly back at the half open door, though your eyes never left Dean’s. His forest green eyes were still wide in shock as he silently looked from you to the half open door of the apartment across the hall…
Say something.
You bit back the plea that nearly broke free from your chest as you watched Dean take everything in. Shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, you hesitated as your brain worked overtime to put everything you wanted to tell him into words. Yet, as you wet your lips and opened your mouth, none of the words you wanted to tell him escaped you.
“I…” You started. Forming the rest of the sentence silently in your mind as you tried to shape the words you’d been carrying silently and carefully in your fragile and broken heart.
I am in love with you Dean Winchester.
“I was wondering… Maybe you’d want to come to mine for dinner? A housewarming of sorts?” You said instead. Swallowing the words you truly wanted to say with a hitched breath.
Coward.
You were supposed to tell him everything. Just like you’d rehearsed on sleepless nights as you watched your dark phone screen in vain, hoping he would call. Yet you were asking him over for dinner?
Letting your eyes drop in shame, you grimaced at your own cowardice. Before just as quickly reshaping the frown into a soft gasp as your eyes finally took in all of him. He had his jacket over his arm and his keys in his hands. Damn it. He was heading out. Of course he was…
“If now’s not a good time…” You let your voice trail off as your heart sank with a slight nod towards the jacket hanging loosely over his toned forearm. Chewing on your bottom lip, you stopped the many selfish words you wanted to say from spilling out. Though you wanted nothing more than to ask him not to leave. Not now. Not when you’d finally met him again.
You’d been missing him so damn much. Every second seemed like an eternity when he wasn’t around. You just wanted to finally talk to him, even if you were too cowardly to tell him what you really wanted to say. You just needed to stay near him. Just for a little while. Even if he didn’t feel the way you did. You wanted him to just… Come over. To fill your new place with some of that familiar warmth from the cabin. So you could try and shape it into a home.
But, Dean was clearly heading out somewhere. And by the slightly tousled look of his hair and the way his tight blue t-shirt was riding up on his abdomen, teasing a small flash of his toned stomach. He was clearly in a rush to… Wherever it was he had to go. You couldn’t stop him… After all, you were just a neighbour.
“No…” Dean finally found his voice as he shook his head. His former wide eyed shock melted into a soft, careful smile as he lifted the jacket in his hands and blindly reached back into the apartment looking for a hook to hang it on before unceremoniously dropping it on the floor as he missed the hook. Shrugging with that boyish grin you’d come to love when your eyes dropped to look at the jacket on the floor; slightly obscured by the door.
“I mean, I’m not going anywhere. I’d love to…” Dean clarified when you glanced back up at him, lips parted in confusion as you glanced from him to the jacket on the floor.
“So… Dinner?” The words left you as a relieved sigh. The idea of going back to your new apartment alone, now that you’d finally gotten to see him again seemed nearly impossible. Just hearing his voice was enough to warm the near constant chill that has clung to you since the cabin. And you knew that your apartment would only feel colder and lonelier if he’d not taken you up on the offer.
Though, as you took a careful step backward, letting him move from where he was framed in the doorway, you still had to swallow hard to quell the butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to talk to him, you were relieved he was staying, but the 20 days apart had caused a divide between the two of you. At least if the way your words were left hanging in the air for a few seconds, stirring it up with nervous energy, was anything to go by.
There was a strained tension to the silence. So much was untouched in the air between you. And after being left for 20 days to simmer, it had grown hard and jagged. Like a wall between you, where you’d previously just managed to knock your walls down and bared your heart to him.
“Yeah… Sure,” Dean finally said. A small careful smile on his lips as he punctuated his sentence with the soft click of his own door closing and signalled for you to lead the way.
Things had seemed simpler, back in the cabin. Easier. Though you knew it was all your fault. The many words you wanted to say, the heart you wanted to offer up, was hanging silently in the air between you. Taking up too much space for anything else to be spoken out loud.
Trying to outrun the awkward silence, you took the few steps back to your new apartment as quickly as you could. Slipping in before opening the door fully to invite Dean in. Barely glancing at the mess left from the move with a grimace as you thought back to Dean’s own carefully maintained and immaculate apartment. But, Dean had seen the chaos that was your damn life. A few empty cardboard boxes was nothing compared to that.
As he stepped into your apartment, Dean only smiled. Staying silent the whole time while moving carefully out of the way to let you shut the door behind him as his eyes stayed on you. As if he was still trying to catch up; taking you in as if he didn’t believe you were really there. Yet as the door closed shut and hid the outside world, your man from apartment 43 finally parted his lips to speak. His eyes glancing from the keys still in his hands to you.
“Look (Y/N). What I said at the cabin…”
Dean didn’t get another word out. And for the second it took for your brain to catch up to your heart and body, you were left wondering why. Until you felt it; the taste of peppermint and coffee on your lips.
You just didn’t want to hear him deny what had happened between the two of you back in the cabin. And, in your desperation, your hands had shot up to curl into the soft cotton of his blue t-shirt before you pulled him against you and lifted yourself up to kiss him. A feather light touch of your lips against his still and unmoving ones. Still slightly parted around the words he’d been trying to say.
Realising what you’d done, your hands slipped from his t-shirt as you jumped back with a gasp. Shit. You’d fucked up. Looking up at where Dean was still frozen in shock you shook your head as you did the only thing you could do. Apologise.
“Sorr…” Before you got even a single full word out, Dean had broken free from his shock as he quickly closed the distance between you and leaned down to capture your lips with his. Mirroring your earlier action as he silenced words he didn’t want to hear.
For a split second, his lips were soft and barely there as he gently tested the waters. But, as you carefully kissed him back, he fully melted into the kiss. His strong calloused hands gently stroked up your arms until he reached your shoulders. Before one hand brushed a few stray hairs out of your face and gently angled your mouth up towards him as he cupped your cheek.
Walking you the single step backwards until your back hit the door, Dean sighed into the kiss before deepening it with a desperation that had so far been nothing but fragile softness. His free hand moved from your shoulder and to your neck as he trapped your body between his and the door. Leaving you nearly whimpering into the kiss as your fingers travelled up his body to once more clutch at his t-shirt. Just… Revelling in all of him.
The taste of him, the feel of his teeth scraping against your lip, lit a fire in your veins, finally thawing the last remnants of the unnatural chill that had clung to you for the last 20 days. He tasted like home. Like safety and new beginnings. And, as you let his tongue slip into your open mouth, you gasped as shots of liquid heat ran through your body.
Your grip on his t-shirt slipped as you instead lifted your arms to wrap them around his neck. Pushing your body against him in an effort to, if possible, be even closer to him. Close enough that the sounds of your heartbeats would intermingle. Filling in the blanks where words somehow didn’t seem like enough.
You lost yourself to the kiss. Letting the madness of the last 20 days, the nightmare that had brought the two of you together, the world itself, slip away into nothingness. Leaving just him and you.
Yet, before you could fully drown in him, Dean gently broke the kiss. His other hand softly slipped from your neck so he could cup your face between both of his hands. Worried green eyes looked down at you as his hands lifted just a fraction from your skin to wipe the tears from your eyes.
Tears you hadn’t even realised you were crying.
Dean
The final remnants of the shock of opening the door and being met with (Y/E/C) eyes was melting away as Dean drowned in her sugar and sunshine lips. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of her. The feel of her small body clinging to him. The sighs on her lips that he swallowed greedily. His mind was blank. There was no room for anything but (Y/N). Only her; only the shape of her and the taste of her, could break through the heavy thump of his heartbeat in his ears as he deepened the kiss.
She was finally back in his arms. And Dean doubted he could let her go for long enough to even breathe as he savoured the realisation of having her back. Yet, just as he was losing himself fully in the kiss, caging her between him and the door and angling her beautiful lips up towards his, the taste of sugar and sunshine dimmed. Like rain clouds covering the sun itself as Dean’s tongue slid against her lip and tasted the saline flavour of her pain in the kiss.
She was crying.
Damn it, he’d screwed up again. Biting back the curses he wanted to aim inward at himself, he pushed back the vicious voices reminding him that he’d always been a screw up... And instead focused on her. His sunshine girl with rain clouds in her (Y/E/C) eyes.
Leaning back a bit, he cupped her face in his hands as he busied himself trying to catch every single tear that slipped from her eyes before they could reach her trembling lips. Gently brushing them away as he looked down at her with a mix of guilt and worry weighing heavily in his stomach. He’d fucked up. He’d read too much into the kiss. Gone too far, too fast.
She’s gone through so much already. She needed gentle touches, feather light affirmation and space. Not this, not him. Not the passion and desire in him that nearly drove him mad just seconds earlier.
He had promised himself he’d be better for her, that he’d do better. Yet he’d lost his mind the moment he felt her breath hitch against his lips in a sigh shaped slightly like his name. The same sound he’d been dying to hear for the last 20 days.
“I’m so sorry (Y/N), I… Shit… Please don’t cry,” Dean could hear his voice break over the words as he busied himself with catching every trace of hurt that left her with trembling fingers against her heated skin. Opening his mouth again, he wanted to continue to apologise. To condemn himself, if that’s what she wanted. Yet, before he could speak up. She shook her head slightly, though with his hands still cupping her cheeks the shake was barely even noticable.
Stepping back from the door slightly, he tried to give her some space to breathe. Though he kept his fingers on her skin. Unable and unwilling to break the fragile connection as he watched her try to find her voice again. Pushing a few stray hairs out of her face, Dean caught yet another tear as she took a step forward, staying close to him instead of taking the space he’d offered up to her.
The tears had nearly dried up as she took a few shaky breaths, but Dean still let his fingers trace the shape of her jaw and lips. Trying to soothe and remove every trace of pain from her features as penance for causing her to cry in the first place.
“It’s… I didn’t even know I was crying,” Her words were followed by a hollow laugh as she lifted a shaky hand and placed it over his. Pushing his palm to her cheek as (Y/E/C) eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip and soft frown lines appeared on her forehead as she hesitated over her next words.
Opening her eyes, she glanced up at him before refocusing on his chest instead. Unable to look him in the eyes as she started speaking. And though her voice was barely even a whisper, to Dean, in the quiet of her apartment, each word hit him like a gunshot. Tearing at his very being as they pushed the air from his lungs.
“I’m broken Dean… I don’t work right. I run away from everything. My life’s a fucking horror movie and everything I touch just explodes into nothing. I mean… My stalker shot you,” Her words ended in a small sob of a laugh as she looked up at him again. Fresh tears brimming in her eyes as she took another shaky breath.
Opening his mouth to protest, to tell her what he saw when he looked at her, how absolutely damn perfect she was, Dean didn’t get far as she cut him off. Placing two trembling fingers against his lips she just shook her head with a small sad smile. As if she could read the words in his worried eyes. As if she could see how he saw her; how beautiful, strong and absolutely breathtaking she was to him, yet chose to reject it.
“It’s just… I’ve gotten used to this. To pain and disappointment… To running away from things before they become too comfortable. When you’re used to being alone, comfort is so much scarier than loneliness. Or even rejection. So I run, before either side comes true. Before they can reject me, and before I can start to feel something,” She continued. And every new word broke Dean’s heart a little more.
Clenching his jaw shut, Dean’s fingers stilled from where they’d been capturing the fresh tears before they could even fully fall as he steeled himself for heartbreak and rejection. Yet, even as he waited for her to break his heart, he couldn’t help but want nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. To soothe old hurts and curse the people that left those scars on her beautiful soul.
Though, as he held his breath waiting for her next words, he feared he’d never get the chance to. That this was it. The moment he went back to being a stranger. Just… One that had fallen in love with her.
“But I want you. Somewhere, along this damned horrible roller coaster ride, I just looked up and you were there. And you made it all better. You made me feel strong, safe, right. And for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t want to run away from it. I think I’ve… No…” Shaking her head she finally looked straight into his eyes. Her own (Y/E/C) eyes burning with that same fire that Brian and Ketch had never managed to fully extinguish as she wet her lips before correcting herself.
“I am in love with you, Dean Winchester,” She finally said. The words, so different from what he'd been expecting, left his sunshine girl with just a slight tremble of trepidation. Where his heart had been about to crack into a million little pieces, it now seemed whole for the first time in… Hell, forever.
She was in love with him. Him. She loved him, though he’d thought he didn’t deserve anyone's love. Not anymore…
Swallowing heavily to stop himself from laughing out loud in unbridled joy or just crushing her against him in a bruising kiss, Dean tried to rid himself of the cotton mouthed feeling her words had left him with. His mind was a hazy mess as he felt nearly drunk off of her words. Yet he needed to tell her. To put into words what he should have said that day, back at the hospital.
“(Y/N)...” Dean finally croaked out as he found his voice, grimacing at how broken it sounded in his breathless state. His fingers that had fallen at the thought of her rejection lifted again to angle her face up towards his where she was once more hiding her beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes from him.
“I’m no hero or saint either. I’ve faced my fair share of… Look, I don’t care. I just want you… I’ve fallen in love with every one of those fragile little broken pieces that make you, you. I’ve fallen for your strength, your laughter, your heart… Every part of you made me love you. And I chose to fall deeper into that love, willingly,” Dean had to stop himself from continuing, or he would have spent every last breath in his body listing the many facets of his beautiful girl next door that made him fall for her. And he had yet to say the most important thing.
“I guess what I’m saying is… I’m in love with you too (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” He whispered, his voice cracking at the end of his words as he felt his eyes tear up against his will. Taking a shaky breath, he traced the shape of her features; from her brow and down to her slightly trembling lips as he smiled softly down at the miracle under his fingertips.
“I know it won’t be easy, but if you let me…” Dean started, but before he could finish his sentence, the taste of sugar on his lips took his breath away.
Her kiss was soft and barely even there. Tentative. As if she was still carefully testing the waters as she shaped her lips against his. And he let her lead him. Arms falling down to curl around her waist as he let her set the pace of the whisper of a kiss. Revelling in every taste of her and sighing contentedly at every soft breath against his lips when she drew back before returning to him. Always with just a little more pressure, a little more heat. Melting into him slowly, like cotton candy against his lips.
Deepening the kiss fully, she let her hands curl around his neck and dig into his hair, teasing a groan out of him as she tugged on the short strands of tousled hair. And finally, Dean let go of his control. Drowning in her, in everything she was.
In the sunshine girl that was finally his.
---
Dean didn’t know how long he’d let himself get lost in the feel of her lips on his, or the sound of his name leaving her like a honey sweet sigh. But, pulling away to catch his breath, Dean reluctantly placed his forehead against hers to stop himself from chasing the high that was her sweet mouth again. Though his eyes kept dropping to lips as he took a few deep breaths, trying to steady his raging pulse.
“We’d better stop, or we’ll never have that dinner you mentioned,” He finally managed to whisper between breaths as he let his tongue roll against his lip, hoping to taste her there.
As (Y/N) looked up at him, he saw the glimmer of her laughter in (Y/E/C) eyes before it bubbled free from her lips. And Dean nearly needed to steady himself from what the sound did to his mind and heart. It was just so goddamn beautiful. It was the laughter… That same pure laughter he used to hear from her days on her balcony with her friends. Her true laughter, not the forced attempts she’d tried to make during the nightmare riddled 12 days of being chased by her stalker. And Dean had never heard a sweeter sound.
His arms tensed and relaxed as he physically had to keep himself from just saying to hell with food and devouring her instead. She was just so damn perfect, and sweet. Dean was sure he could survive on just the taste of her kiss alone.
“I have a confession to make,” She giggled once her laughter died down. With a mischievous glint in her eyes she let her teeth pull on her bottom lip in a way that once more focused Dean’s attention down to that tempting mouth.
“And what’s that?” Dean murmured as he lifted his hand up, using his thumb to gently tease her bottom lip free from her teeth and traced the shape of it. Damn it, she was irresistible. Wetting his lips, he leaned down and stole a small peck before she could confess to anything. Which earned him a soft gasp from her before she rolled those beautiful eyes at him. He just couldn’t help himself.
“I can’t actually make dinner. I haven’t unpacked my kitchen stuff yet. Gabe… He texted me and told me I had to go across the hall and introduce myself. And apparently, I had to do it right away,” She said with another small laugh, her lips curling up in a small knowing smirk. Since she had clearly followed her best friend’s orders, just as Dean was heading out the door.
“What a coincidence,” Dean mused with a small chuckle. Having already figured out Gabriel’s plan as soon as the words left her. Yet as she lifted a questioning eyebrow in his direction he grinned at her.
“I was just about to go out to meet Gabe, to get your phone number, when you knocked,” He finally continued as he let his fingers follow the cute crease in her brow, removing it with a soft touch of his thumb against her skin.
For a split second, (Y/E/C) eyes widened in realisation before she rolled them and scoffed. The way her nose scrunched slightly looked so damned endearing, Dean had to hold himself back from kissing her again. Instead he let his teeth graze his lip, chasing the taste of her there, as she let her hands drop from where she’s been playing with the hem of his t-shirt to dig her phone out of her pocket.
A weary sigh left her as she unlocked the phone and tapped on her screen before quickly turning the phone towards Dean. The words on the screen teased another small laugh out of him as she groaned at her best friend. Apparently Gabriel had been aiming for a hallway meet-cute.
Gabe
Did I time it right? Did you bump into him in the hallway, like in the movies?
Gabe
I was counting on Dean not waiting the 30 minutes and rushing out the door. I read him right... Right?
Gabe
Please tell me I timed it right!
With a shake of her head, (Y/N) opted to ignore her best friend as she slipped her phone back into her pocket before looking back up at him. Her slightly kiss swollen lips looked so damn tempting he had to swallow hard to not lean in and devour them again.
“So… delivery?” She finally asked, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes glanced down at his lips. Her whole body was leaning into his touch, and damn it… Dean was not a strong enough man to keep fighting himself. Not when everything he wanted was right there. Her eyes fluttering shut or lips parting in a contented sigh from just a touch of his fingers.
Wetting his lips, Dean leaned in slowly, until he could feel her shaky breath on his lips as she waited, impatiently, for his kiss. Placing the ghost of a kiss at the corner of her lips, he smiled against her skin at the displeased whimper that left her from the barely even there kiss before letting his arms curl around her body again.
“Dinner can wait,” He shot back as he quickly lifted her up, teasing a small squeal out of her as she hooked her legs around his hips and placed her arms around his neck. That beautiful laughter was slipping from her lips again, but this time, Dean didn’t hold himself back. Instead he leaned into it. Swallowing the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard with another crushing kiss.
Yeah… Dinner could definitely wait.
Screw Sammy’s bridge analogy. They’d reached the end of that bridge, and Dean’s heart still beat just as hard. If not harder.
Holding her close, Dean let his lips travel from her mouth to her neck and revelled in the feel of her heavy pulse under her skin. Smiling into her soft skin, he let his teeth graze her pulse point. Revelling in the soft moan he teased out of her as he pushed her back against the door leading out of apartment 11A before he chased after her lips again and lost himself in the taste of her…
The monsters were gone, and the horrible memories had been left back in apartment 42. Sure there were still nightmares and court cases left to deal with, but they would get through it. Together. Dean would be with her, every step of the way. He’d stand side by side with her, not as a shield, but as a partner. And together, they’d be able to face it all.
They’d be stronger.
But right then and there? In that moment; with her lips on his and her body shaped against him? She was just… Her. Not his neighbour, or the woman from apartment 11A. And he was just him, not a stranger, a temporary resident of apartment 12B, or the man from apartment 43.
They were the only thing that mattered.
She was there, with him. And they were finally home.
Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?
Triggers: Two idiots, cowardice, media hounding them, nightmares
Y/N = Your name | Y/L/N = Your last name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour |
Start Here | Last Part | Next Part
Reader
You were exhausted…
Though the nightmare was over, the effects of Brian’s viscous tendrils creeping into the foundations of your life and making everything crumble were far reaching. Your sleepless nights were slowly but surely catching up on you, and it was getting harder and harder to force yourself out of bed in the mornings.
It had only been 16 days, a little over two weeks, since that horrible night in the Winchester cabin. Yet, it somehow simultaneously felt like a lifetime and a split second had passed all at once. Time was playing tricks on you, while you were left balancing on the precarious ledge that was left of your foundation. Holding your breath in fear of more of your unsteady ground being ripped out from under you.
Where the legal red tape was moving things along at a snail’s pace. Making every minute seem like a pocket universe. The police kept throwing you information at a speed that left you winded and suffering from vertigo. Slow and fast, steady and chaotic, were both pulling at your seams. Unravelling you as you tried to deal with…
Hell, everything.
Your life had been torn to shreds, yet you hadn’t even been given enough time to gather up the pieces before your new life revolved fully around trips to the police station or meetings with what was now a full team of lawyers.
Though Sam was still your main contact, several other people in suits had been added to the mix. Since Sam’s law firm had decided to get involved now that your nightmare was considered “a high profile case”. A room full of men and women who were so unlike the kind younger Winchester as they grilled you for every little detail and fed you lines to tell the public.
Because, of course you had to deal with the public as well. Or at least the greedier side of it. As you were left having to try and dodge the damned media circus that circled every aspect of your life like the vultures they were.
You barely had time to breathe between every new twist and turn. You were just a puppet on a string. Being told by the lawyers what to tell the media, only to still have your words twisted by journalists across multiple newspapers and TV screens.
Meanwhile, the police seemed to find some sick pleasure in forcing you to relive your worst nightmare. Constantly calling you back in for follow up interviews or to share new information with you that you’d rather not know. Force feeding you the details over cups of stale and cold coffee as you tried not to flinch whenever they brought up the names of your two tormentors.
Yet, somehow, in the middle of the madness, you had still managed to move in with Gabe. You had to. You just… There was no way apartment 42 could ever be home again. Hell, you couldn’t even step foot inside the building. Not to mention your former apartment.
So, Gabe and your friends had mobilised to empty your former home turned nightmare. While you stayed safely outside. Ignoring the media and your lawyers as you hugged yourself close, listening to your landlord complimenting himself for graciously letting you out of your lease to a crowd of eager journalists. At least he’d pretended to graciously do so to the many microphones and cameras pointed his way. Though you’d known the truth. You’d heard Gabe, late one evening, applying a hefty helping of pressure to the greedy landlord and name dropping his father, to get you out of your lease without any extra fees.
Within one afternoon, your former home had been left an empty shell. And you’d effectively been homeless. Leaving you, and your meagre belongings, free to move in with your best friend.
Though “moving” was kind of a stretch. There were no boxes to sort through or trinkets to organise. After all, you owned next to nothing anymore. Everything you could really consider yours could fit in two single suitcases.
Since most of your things had gone straight to the closest charity shop… What wasn’t already in police custody that was. And whatever the police had, they could burn once they were done with it for all you cared. You couldn’t look at it. Not when Brian could have done god knows what to those items when he’d broken into your apartment.
Still, even with all traces of Brian erased from your life… Even though you were safely set up in your best friend’s stupidly expensive guest bedroom and you were finally safe; you were still on edge.
The nightmares left little room for actual rest, and your shoulders were aching from the tense hold they were permanently stuck in as you kept yourself ready to flee. Your luxurious temporary room felt cold and empty, no matter how high the thread count of Gabe’s sheets were. The shadows, though you knew nothing was hiding in them anymore, still felt dark and ominous. And during it all, the one person who you knew could soothe your frayed nerves and warm your freezing body wasn’t around.
You missed him. Your saviour from apartment 43.
Your mind kept returning to your time in the cabin with Dean whenever you had a quiet moment to yourself. Picturing those kind green eyes or the boyish smile he’d flash you as he recounted whatever mischief Sam and him had gotten themselves into as kids. You just wanted to be near him, to let that smooth deep voice of his soothe your frayed nerves as you quietly revelled in his warmth.
Yet, you’d only gotten to see him in passing. Throwing stolen glances his way in the police station as lawyers, police officers and journalists dragged you back and forth while you struggled to keep up. Watching as similarly uniformed officers pulled him away from you and into another room to make his own statements.
You’d just been overwhelmed. Too much was happening, too fast. After 12 days of silence and endless waiting, suddenly everyone was firing on all cylinders as they threw you back and forth like a ragdoll. Hell, it sounded like a cowardly excuse even to you, but you’d been busy trying not to throw up from the rollercoaster that was your new life.
So, it wasn’t even until a few days after he’d already checked out of the hospital that you realised you had no way of contacting him. Your old phone, and number, had been replaced. And even then… You never actually had his number to begin with. He’d just always been there, right next to you, during the whole hellish nightmare.
And now that he wasn’t… God you needed him to be.
Sure, you could have asked Sam for his number. You’d tried, multiple times. Yet… You couldn’t make yourself do it. Whenever you tried, your heart got stuck in your throat as it forcefully prevented you from risking further destruction of the already bruised and battered muscle.
The what ifs would coat your brain and tongue whenever you tried to form the words. What if he didn’t want to hear from you? What if he blamed you? What if… Until you’d eventually give up. Sticking to safer questions with your lawyer as you pretended you weren’t spending every waking moment not spent fearing for your life, thinking about your superhero next door.
So, instead, you just moped around Gabe’s apartment staring at a phone you knew Dean had no way of reaching. Hell, even if you’d wanted to mope anywhere else but on your best friend's couch you couldn’t. You were barely able to go downstairs for some of the greasy fast food that Gabe saw as “home cooking” without being accosted by some opportunistic journalist.
Which was the other reason you hadn’t been able to speak to Dean since leaving his side in the hospital. Other than seeing him in passing, you couldn’t approach him. Not without bringing the whole damn media circus down on him even harder. You’d already felt guilty enough when you learned that the journalists had somehow figured out that he was your nameless saviour and started approaching him whenever he was out too; desperate for their front page news fix.
And all of it, from your obsession with the phone still clutched in your hands, to the damn circus that was your life, had quickly started to put a strain on your stay in Casa Gabe. Which was the last thing you wanted.
---
Gabriel was sitting at his kitchen table as you walked out of the guest bedroom with your eyes burning into your phone. Forcing you to look up from the silent device with a nearly theatrical clearing of his throat as he nodded to the chair across from his. Though his brow was creased in a light frown, his soft brown eyes were gentle and caring as he pushed the stack of papers in front of you.
“I love you sweetheart you know that. But you’re driving me crazy. And I think we both know I can’t afford to lose my mind any more than I already have,” He’d joked as you sank down into the seat across from him and lifted up the apartment information with a raised eyebrow. And though his words were joking, you knew, as well as he did, that they were true.
You loved Gabe. But with the nightmares, the stress and the still unsteady ground under your feet, you’d both been getting on each other’s nerves. If anything, you were grateful as you scanned the information about the apartment he was suggesting. You needed a place of your own. And though you knew that your former apartment building hadn’t really been the problem, you couldn’t go back there.
You needed something new.
“This place’s security is top notch. And I know that wasn’t really the problem with the last one, but…” Gabe started as you kept reading the information about the high end apartment block.
Swallowing heavily at his words, you let the papers fall to not betray the shake in your hands as you tried to focus on the apartment details. Which only became harder as his words brought back more flashes of the information the police had practically force fed you with.
Brian breaking into your apartment was another one of Ketch’s tricks.
Your building’s security hadn’t been compromised. Instead it was all part of Arthur Ketch’s plans. The corrupt police officer had forged a warrant a week before your nightmare started, closing off the apartment next to yours for further investigation. After taking the keys with him from the building manager, he’d simply handed them to Brian. Letting the deranged stalker walk right in and sneak onto your balcony from next door.
“This place has a 24/7 doorman (Y/N), and they’re trained. No one’s coming in without being allowed in, I promise,” Gabriel continued, his usual light hearted tone was non-existent, as had been the case more and more over the last few hellish weeks. The media had been hounding him too. Especially considering who his father was. And it was draining you both. Leaving you feeling guilty for wiping the smile off of your normally always jovial best friend’s face on top of everything else, though you knew he didn’t blame you.
Licking at trembling lips, you nodded your head as you forced yourself to focus on the words on the papers in front of you again. It seemed far outside of your budget, but by the red line scratched through the original monthly rent and the new sum next to it, you knew your best friend had pulled some strings to get you in.
God, you loved your best friends. Even though you vowed to never live with any of them again. Gabriel needed his space as much as you did. And where you were big on home cooked meals, solitude and coffee, Gabe preferred his sweets… And his large range of friends with benefits that suddenly had to stop coming by. What with you holed up and paranoid in his guest bedroom.
Yeah, it was for the best
You’d always been independent. Moving out and standing on your own two feet again would be good for you. It would be the first step for you to shake everything off and move on, hopefully towards Dean. If he ever wanted to hear from you again.
“I’m not kicking you out (Y/N). I’d never kick you out. I just thought… It came up on the market and you can’t even get an apartment there without knowing someone in the block. Which I luckily do so…” Gabriel continued, mistaking your silence for hesitation as he kept speaking to your downturned head. His big warm hand reached out to hold yours as he squeezed it reassuringly.
“I know Gabe… I love you, but yeah. You’re a diva,” You croaked out as a half laugh, half sob. Your eyes lifted to meet his as grateful tears veiled your vision, blurring your big softie of a best friend at the edges. From across the table a barked laugh left Gabe as he scoffed at you in mock offence. Though, from the way your weak attempt at a joke had finally softened the crease on his forehead, you knew he was anything but offended.
“Just because I refuse to accept that any skittles except from the green ones should exist or be allowed in my apartment, that doesn’t mean I’m a diva little miss don’t-buy-store-brand-coffee,” He shot back with a warm smile as he squeezed your hand. Tears glistened in his own eyes as he lifted brown orbs to force them back.
Yeah… You would be fine.
Taking a shaky breath you looked down at the details of Apartment 11A one final time. Trying to picture your new life, a better life, among the secure walls of the high end apartment block. You could do it. You had to do it.
“It’s already available, so you can move in at any time. We could go shopping? I stole the big man’s credit card… Then I can score some extra best friend points for helping you move in. We could have you settled within four days time? If you want it…” Gabriel said softly, his tone no longer strained as he saw you considering the apartment building seriously. The mention of the ‘big man’ aka. his father’s credit card coming out sounding nearly excited. Since Gabe loved nothing more than to stick it to his absentee father, especially financially.
“Thank you G, I’ll take it. And I think I’ll need some of those ridiculously expensive sheets you have,” You said with a small laugh, smiling softly at your best friend and looking forward to something new, something untainted and fresh. Free from Ketch and Brian’s vicious shadows.
A new foundation for you to build on, a place to collect new favourites. A place that could slowly but surely become home again. And hopefully, if he’d ever talk to you again, a new start with your former neighbour.
The man in apartment 43.
Dean
The blinking of the cursor had grown blurry in front of Dean’s eyes as he frowned at the empty email window. He’d been staring at his screen for at least 15 minutes trying to formulate a reply to his latest picky client about the classic car they wanted him to source. But it was no use as his brain was refusing to focus for long enough to find the necessary words.
Damn it.
He’d thought he could take his mind off of everything, off of her, if he went back to work. But nothing seemed to stick. Nothing but her (Y/E/C) eyes or the shaky smile on her lips at least. She had stayed as a permanent feature in the back of his mind since she’d left him back in the hospital room with a final promise of calling him.
Sighing in frustration, he pushed himself away from his laptop and walked the two steps across the room to flop down on the bed. Working just wasn’t helping. Nothing was. Not since his life got turned on its head by the woman in apartment 42.
It had been 20 days since Dean had last heard her voice through anything other than a TV screen. Sure, he’d seen her in passing at the police station… But with the chaos surrounding the strongest, most beautiful woman he’d ever met, he could never reach her before the ebb and flow of lawyers and police officers whisked her away. So he was left waiting; straining his eyes as he kept staring at his phone, waiting for her to call. Hoping against hope to hear her sunshine lips shape his name again.
Even though he knew she had more than enough on her plate… Hell, the last time he’d seen her, on the morning news that very day, she’d looked exhausted. She shouldn’t have to deal with his dumb ass on top of it all.
But no matter how much he told himself to be patient. No matter how many times the logical part of his brain pointed out the media circus constantly surrounding her case… Dean just couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop glancing down at his phone in some vain hope that she’d find a moment to breathe and call him.
---
(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was everywhere.
To the point where he’d left his apartment. Unable to stand how the wall in his bedroom separating her apartment from his suddenly felt 10 degrees colder now that she wasn’t there to bang on the wall in the mornings to let him know his music was too loud. Or to wake him up in the middle of the night with her hairdryer.
It didn’t help that the media had been camping out in front of the apartment building either, constantly asking about her and the case. Or the neighbours, whispering to themselves in the hallways about the horrendous incident, as if it was just the latest celebrity gossip and not something that happened to a woman who lived a few doors down from them. Her name was on everyone’s lips, yet Dean himself was terrified to speak it outloud. Afraid it would somehow jinx him. That speaking her name would make him realise she was just a lavender coloured dream.
One he’d never get to see again.
That, coupled with the fact that the damned vultures had somehow realised that he was the neighbour that saved her had left him no choice but to flee his apartment. Which was why he was now lying down and glaring at the still unfamiliar ceiling of Castiel’s spare bedroom.
He’d left his place.. No, he had run away.
He’d run away from the memories of her laughter on her balcony, from the coldness of their shared wall… From seeing the number 42 out of the corner of his eye whenever he left his own apartment.
Yet, no matter how far he ran, he couldn’t outrun the empty, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nor the slight itch to his palms as he wished he could reach out and pull her closer to shield her from everything. Whenever he saw her tired eyes, and that tense hold of her shoulders, he just wanted to protect her. Hold her close, and make the world fade away around them. Like it had done back in the Winchester cabin; back when it was just him and her.
He just wanted to see her. To talk to her and run his fingers over that soft crease in her forehead that seemed to now be a permanent instalment whenever he saw her on TV. To smooth it out and tell her it would all be ok. He just…
Cursing softly at the ceiling Dean squeezed his eyes shut.
He hadn't planned this. Groaning at his own stupidity he dragged a shaky hand over his tired features. Of course, he hadn't planned this. You couldn't plan this.
It struck out of nowhere. Like an unbeatable enemy, flanking him in a moment of inattentiveness and leaving him defenceless. Still, he couldn’t fool himself into thinking he had any semblance of control of his heart anymore.
He knew what he was feeling was more than he had ever wished for. More than anything he’d originally planned to ever let himself feel again. Hell, he’d admitted it to himself countless times, and even gotten as far as confessing it to her. Yet, in her absence, he realised the true depths of what he’d fallen into.
He liked (Y/N)... Damn it, no.
Like wasn't the word he wanted. He liked pie. Her... She was more than that. Sweeter, purer... Dean clenched his hands into fists and locked his jaw keeping the word he promised himself he'd never utter again inside. Yet the traitorous part of his mind still whispered it to him.
Love... This was love. Fuck. He was royally screwed.
He’d tried to trick himself into thinking the time apart would weaken the inexplicable pull he felt towards his girl next door… Or, no, the girl who used to be next door. Yet he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Not when it was so loud inside his head with all these words he kept trying to keep in.
He’d wanted to tell her he had fallen for her, back there in the hospital room. Yet, instead he’d just said goodbye. See you later. Back to being just a neighbour. And ever since, he’d kept the words on the tip of his tongue as he retold the story time and time again to police officers and the media. Every mention of her strength, her bravery, the fire in her eyes, were painted in the soft pastel colours of his feelings.
Hidden from the world, yet so painfully clear to him.
It was funny in a way. How all the things that had annoyed him only a few weeks earlier he now missed. Her annoyed knocks against their shared wall. The happy, carefree sound of her laughter on her balcony, the way her hair caught the sunlight… There was no way it was just the messed up 12 days that was to blame for the way his heart beat painfully in his chest at the very thought of her.
No, Dean Winchester has fallen in love with his neighbour, the woman from apartment 42. And she’s moved out without a word. 20 days… They’d already been apart for longer than he’d truly known her. Yet he found himself only missing her a little more with every day that passed.
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose again before once more reaching for his phone on the bed next to him. Keeping his eyes shut as he searched for it blindly. The same way he’d done so many times in the last several weeks. Hoping for her call, staring a hole in his phone as he dreamed of calling her instead. Yet, he was left with nothing but an unresponsive screen.
It was just a lifeline to keep himself sane. Something tangible to clutch, as he longed to reach out for her. Something to stop his hands from shaking whenever they wanted to trace the shape of her jaw when he saw her on the news or hold her close whenever he saw the darkening circles under her eyes at the police station.
It was a damn placebo, nothing more.
After all, through most of the 20 days, he’d had no way of contacting her. And he still didn’t have her number. There hadn’t been a need for it. They were always together. She’d always been within reach. And now that she wasn’t…
Dean’s finger curled into the bedsheet again as he once more fought the need to reach out and trace her features or the shape of her sugar and sunshine lips. Knowing his fingers would only touch the cool air in front of him instead of the beautiful woman tattooed to the inside of his eyelids.
He’d considered getting her number. Hell, he’d nearly asked the detective for it at one point during his statement. But he’d quickly run out of options. After all, before… Everything. They’d just been neighbours. Strangers sharing a wall and nothing else.
He’d run through the options so many times they were threadbare and falling apart. He couldn’t call Sam for it… The lawyer in him would never give him the number. Not with client confidentiality on the line. Not that he’d ever let Sam risk his career for him that way. Especially now that this case had gotten the partners’ attention at his law firm.
Sure… Charlie had called him; he could have called her and asked her for (Y/N)’s number. But he barely even knew her past seeing her nearly jump at the throat of a collection of men in blue. Even if he did call her, she’d probably just think he was another creep.
His mind had gone in endless circles like that for the last several weeks. Until Castiel, sick of watching him stare a hole in his phone and jumping at every call, had given Dean his brother’s number. Telling him to call Gabe and get her number once Dean finally broke and explained why his blank phone screen had his undivided attention every waking hour of every day.
That was two days ago. After 18 days of radio silence, Dean had finally found a way to reach her. And yet…
Even two days later, all he could do was clutch the phone numbly in his hand as he cursed his own cowardice while his knuckles whitened around the plastic.
He’d tried… God, he’d tried several times. Yet each time he scrolled through his contacts to find Gabriel’s name, his finger paused over the call button. His traitorous mind whispering vicious words into the silence that followed as he just stared at the name of her best friend.
Would she want to hear from him? What if he was part of the problem now? Part of a past she’d need to let go of to finally start smiling again? What if she hadn’t called him because she didn’t want to hear from him?
The questions were endless. Burying themselves deeper into his chest whenever he tried to call. Only to be followed by nights lying awake as her nightmares and fearful screams echoed in his mind. Nights where his heart begged him to contact her, to soothe the echo of her pained sobs that vibrated through every goddamn bone in his body. Erasing earlier vicious whispers with a million explanations as to why she hadn’t called yet.
Each of them plausible, most heartbreaking and some downright terrifying.
Gritting his teeth, Dean cursed as he cracked his eyes open just enough to see his phone screen. Trained fingers scrolling and coming to a stop directly on Gabe’s number as he took a shaky breath.
He had to…
If nothing else just to quell the ache in his heart that was growing increasingly desperate for the soft lilt in her voice when she said his name. The way it seemed to roll off of her tongue so effortlessly, leaving him dying to discover how it tasted on her lips.
With another sharp intake of air, Dean sat up on the bed and let the loud sound of his heartbeat in his ears drown out that vicious little voice in the back of his mind. Forcing himself to focus on her, on the sound of his name on her lips, as he finally hit the call button.
It had been 20 days… He’d waited long enough.
“If this is another journalist, I’ll tell you what I’ve told the other 50 that called before you. I’ve got lawyers. A lot of lawyers…” Gabriel’s voice didn’t sound like the same jovial prankster that Dean had heard about from Castiel’s many exasperated retellings or in (Y/N)’s stories out in the clearing. His normally relaxed tone was clipped and strained as he spat the words into the phone in lieu of a greeting.
“No, I’m not a… It’s Dean. Dean Winchester,” Dean hurried through the words, nearly falling over them as he worried her best friend would just hang up and block his number. Blocking him from the only way he had of reaching (Y/N) at the same time.
“Dean? Superhero Dean? Hunk next door Dean? Green eyed boy wonder Dean? That Dean?” Gabe’s tone was a lot more playful as he spoke up again on the other side as Dean rolled his eyes at the mobile phone in his hand from the quick fire speed of the supposed nicknames the prankster had apparently assigned him.
“No, well… I mean yes. It’s Dean. But just… Dean. Not any of that other stuff,” He shot in with a tired sigh, somehow sensing that the man on the other end of the call wasn’t done thinking up new cringeworthy nicknames to put him on the spot and needing to get to the point.
“So, to what do I owe this absolute pleasure?” Gabriel sounded fully relaxed now, the former strain and anger in his voice had fully melted away only to be replaced with a nearly sickly sweet politeness as Dean nearly heard the shiteating grin on Castiel’s brother’s lips.
“I was just… Castiel gave me your number, since I’ve been trying to reach… Look, I don’t know how to put this without sounding like an idiot. I was wondering if you could give me (Y/N)’s number? I haven’t heard from her since the hospital and I just want to… Check in?” Silently cursing himself Dean rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Check in? Check fucking in? He wouldn’t blame Gabe if he decided to just hang up on him right there and then. After all, he sounded like a creep.
Damn it. This was a bad idea.
He was just about to open his mouth and tell Gabe to forget all about it. After removing his damn foot from it, that was… Yet, before he could, Gabriel spoke up again with that same nearly audible smirk in his voice.
“You don’t have (Y/N)’s number? Smooth, Casanova. But, I guess I can find it in my humongous heart to help you out. Where are you right now? With everything…” Though his words started with that same joking lilt, as it faded into nothingness, the same strain was still evident underneath the mask he clearly wore for her benefit. The media. It made sense. Of course Gabriel wouldn’t just give anyone her number over the phone when the damned journalists were hounding everyone involved in the case.
“I’m at your brother’s place… Cas’ apartment. I couldn’t stay there, with… Y’know,” Dean ended his sentence with a shrug, though he knew the man on the other end of the line couldn’t see him. But he just couldn’t make himself say anything about apartment 42. The media and the police had already made him relive it too many times. Yet, thankfully Gabriel didn’t push him, as his tone went back to the slightly teasing, lighthearted one he’d had earlier in the call.
“Wait, you’re in Cassie’s apartment? Good! I’m nearby. There’s a great donut place two blocks away. Meet me there. In… Let’s say, 30 minutes?” Gabe said, sounding rushed and like he was already on the move from the other end.
“Sure…” Dean started. His heartbeat was already speeding up from the thought that within the next hour, at most, he’d have her number. He’d be able to reach her again. Hear her voice again. And hopefully, she’d want to talk to him. She’d want to see him as much as he craved seeing her again.
“Donut shop! 30 minutes!” Gabe wasn’t listening anymore, his voice came from further away as if he was holding the phone away from his body as he ended the call with an echoed reminder.
Staring at the now silent phone, Dean tried to wrap his head around the rollercoaster of a conversation. Only being shaken out of it as an address appeared on his screen in the form of a text message from Gabe. Followed quickly by another message echoing the same ‘30 minutes’ message as Dean shook himself out of his stupor.
He was terrified.
The vicious voice in the back of his head was once more a chorus of the many ways he was about to have his heart broken. And his heart had permanently relocated to his throat as he swallowed heavily. But he had to do this. He needed to see her. His wonderful, beautiful sunshine girl.
Cursing silently to himself, Dean blocked out the vicious voices and let his heavy heartbeats set the rhythm instead. 30 minutes. In half an hour, give or take, he would be one step closer to hearing her voice shape his name again. Just half an…
Fuck it.
Jumping up off the bed, Dean reached out for his coat as he shouldered open the door to the guest bedroom. Green eyes looking wildly around Castiel’s neat apartment for where he’d left his set of keys before snatching them up and rushing towards the door to toe on his shoes.
He couldn’t wait. He’d go now. Even if it meant he had to wait at the donut shop for Gabe to show. He’d already waited for 20 days. He couldn’t wait another minute.
He was ready. He had to go there and meet Gabe before he lost what little courage he’d managed to build up. Before the vicious voices broke through the wall he’d built out of heavy heartbeats and the shape of her name in his mind. Brushing a hand through his hair, Dean took a deep breath as he pushed his phone into his pocket and draped his coat over his arm.
He needed to hurry. Yet, before he could, he was frozen in place by a knock on the very door he was reaching out to unlock.
Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and businessman duo closer together?
Triggers: Talk of kidnapping, injuries, hospitals
Y/N = Your name | Y/L/N = Your last name | Y/E/C = Your eye colour | Y/H/C = Your hair colour
A/N: This part is only from Dean's perspective.
Start Here | Last Part | Next Part
Dean
The incessant beeping pulled Dean back out of the darkness that had temporarily swallowed him. Sending shocks of dull pain, diluted by annoyance, through his system as he kept his eyes shut, trying to get his bearings.
How long had he been out?
What had happened after the click of the gun he’d been sure would end his life? He thought he remembered the cops.. He was sure that he’d felt the twinge of relief of (Y/N) being safe. Had he imagined it all?
The last thing he remembered was… What was it?
He remembered the sounds of paramedics, urging him to respond to them. And (Y/N), he remembered his beautiful girl next door. She’d been crying. He’d tried to… Had he told her how he felt? He thought he did, though he couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just all a dream concocted by his mind once he fell unconscious. The final confessions of a doomed man.
Still, he was sure he heard her, saw her. In the ambulance? Had he been in an ambulance? Damn it, his mind was jumbled and slow and he had to fight the urge to not scream in frustration. Everything was hazy… Blurry.
It was all snapshots, but nothing fit together right. The only clear spot was her. His sunshine girl.
Where everything else was out of focus, she was crystal clear. The tears that had stained her beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes and the slight tremble to her lips as she tried to hold back her sobs. Her small voice begging him to be ok, begging for forgiveness for crimes that weren’t hers to carry. Her fragile-but-strong shoulders had been shaking under the weight of those damn unearned chains and shackles, and Dean hadn’t been able to push them away or carry them for her.
Though, even if those moments with her were clear. They were all still just as jumbled together as everything else. As if the heavy hit to his head had rearranged the fragmented memories from the hellish night.
Wrestling with his own memories, Dean frowned at the constant beeping and the voices arguing quietly in the background. It was all too loud, too much. He couldn’t think straight with all that noise.
Gritting his teeth in preparation for the light he could somehow sense through his shut eyelids, Dean opened his eyes carefully. Looking out through the veils of his eyelashes at first, before the sight in front of him made him open them fully.
(Y/N), thank god…
She wasn’t looking his way, her jaw set with that cute stubborn expression she’d wear to show whomever got in her way that she wasn’t budging. And, as Dean finally managed to blink away the rest of the fog over his eyes, the target of her stubborn rage and whispered arguments came into view. At first, Dean had to fight the bile rising in his throat when he saw the crisp uniform of the Detective, however, as his features came fully into view, the panic that was slowly building vanished with a short push of air through pursed lips. Detective Davies, not Ketch.
Thank god, she was safe. He hadn’t just dreamt it all up.
“You heard the doctor Ms. (Y/L/N), Mr. Winchester will be fine. His ribs are mainly bruised with just one hairline fracture. The bullet only strayed him and the injury to his head wasn’t serious either. At most he might be suffering from a concussion. He’ll be cleared to return home after one night under observation…” Mick Davies’ voice was exasperated as he kept his words soft and barely even audible in the otherwise quiet room.
“I told you. I’m not going anywhere until Dean wakes up,” (Y/N) whisper-yelled at Detective Douchebag as she crossed her arms defensively over her chest as if physically restraining herself.
“I’m sorry Ms. (Y/L/N), but we need you to…”
The nearly mechanic way the words left Mick Davies told Dean that it wasn't the first time he’d parroted those exact words. And by the exhausted look in his eyes when she cut him off with another stubborn shake of her head, it wasn’t the first time the girl from apartment 42 had refused to listen either.
“No detective. I am not going anywhere. He was shot trying to save me after Brian tried to kill him. And then one of your own, Ketch, tried to finish the job!” Though whispering, it was clear to Dean that she was lacing each word with as much vitriol as she could. Using them as weapons to keep the detective at bay and shut him up.
Yet as quick as the anger and spite had shown up in her voice, it bled away with a single relieved sob as her eyes strayed to Dean on the bed. Eyes widening as they met with his once she realised he was awake.
“Thank God… Dean,”
Her stiff hold crumbled away as she hurried to his side. Unshed tears veiling (Y/E/C) eyes; she slid into the seat next to what Dean now realised was his hospital bed. Though he couldn’t take his eyes off of her for long enough to check the rest of his surroundings.
Reaching out a weak, heavy hand, Dean tried to lift it up to wipe at the tears staining her beautiful, tired eyes. Yet, before he could reach her, (Y/N)’s smaller hand wrapped around his and gently placed it back on the bed.
“How do you feel? The doctor said you were incredibly lucky. The bullet only…” She started, ready to parrot the same diagnosis that Dean had heard the detective talk about only moments earlier as he just smiled at her.
Squeezing her hand softly, he cut off her talk before she started rambling. He had so much he wanted to tell her… He wanted to reassure her he was fine. He wanted to finally fully let her know how he felt. Hell, he needed to make sure she was uninjured… Yet, as he opened his mouth, the only thing that truly mattered ended up spilling out past dry lips.
“You’re safe,” Dean sighed in relief as he let his thumb run along the back of her hand, revelling in the feel of her skin under his fingers. She was warm, safe, alive… She was there. Away from Brian, and the whole nightmare. Thank god.
“I’m so sorry Dean, I…” Her soft voice trembled and broke over the words as she once more tried to apologise for sins that weren’t hers to carry or ask forgiveness for. Shaking his head softly, Dean bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning in pain as his brain still rattled painfully in his skull from every small move he made.
“Don’t (Y/N). It’s not your fault… Please don’t,” Cutting off her words, Dean pulled softly at her hand, making her lean in closer to him as he gently removed his fingers from hers to move a few stray hairs out of her face and softly swipe his thumb against the wetness on her cheek.
“Never apologise. This isn’t on you. Ok?” He whispered, as his weak arm lost what little strength it had and fell back on the bed as his fingertips reached for hers.
“Ok…” Finding his hand again, his girl next door gently squeezed his hand with a small nod as she took a few steadying breaths and wiped away the rest of her tears with the sleeve of her jacket.
“So, what happened?” Throwing her a small, tired smile, Dean kept his eyes on his sunshine girl as he raised his voice enough to be sure the detective could hear him too. Finally giving fully up on trying to understand his own fragmented memories.
Seeing the question as his cue to speak up, Mick Davies stepped closer to the bed, though still keeping himself at a professional distance. Close enough to be seen and heard, but not close enough to disturb the fragile calm that had fallen over the hospital room as (Y/N) held onto Dean’s hand with a small, tired smile.
“When we arrived at the lakehouse, Mr. Lackland was trying to restrain Ms. (Y/L/N) and Arthur… Mr. Ketch had you handcuffed on the floor,” Luckily Detective Davies started at the beginning. Saving Dean from having to ask him to go back to when his memories grew hazy and soft at the edges from the blow to the head and lack of oxygen in his lungs.
“We were very lucky. If we’d arrived a moment later, or if Mr. Ketch hadn’t valued his own life above anything else… When we called for them to put their weapons down, they both did so without a fight,” The detective continued, the unspoken ‘what ifs’ clear in his tone as Dean internally shuddered at the thought of a gun fight breaking out in the cabin and (Y/N) getting caught in the crossfire.
Yeah…
They’d been lucky. Lucky that she hadn’t gotten hurt. Lucky that the police showed up when they did. Hell, they’d been lucky the police showed up at all. Considering they barely even saw Brian as a threat.
Gritting his teeth to keep the anger that was slowly bubbling up from under the surface from rising, Dean cleared his throat as he forced himself to pull his eyes off of the girl from apartment 42 to look at the detective. The whole incompetent police force had nearly ended up getting him killed and her… Fuck, something so much worse almost happened to her.
“Why?” Dean tried to keep the anger and vitriol out of his voice as he shot the question at the uniformed man. Clipping it down to only the basest syllable in fear that if he kept speaking, he’d start screaming.
“I… What do you mean?” Mick Davies seemed genuinely confused as his eyes went from Dean and over to the tired woman, the victim, in the chair next to him. As if he could find the rest of Dean’s question hiding somewhere else in the sterile hospital room.
“Why did you even come? I thought you said you didn’t believe that Brian was anywhere near the lakehouse?” Giving up on hiding his anger, he spat the questions at the detective, his hand gently squeezing (Y/N)’s as he spoke. As if to reassure himself she was really there and that this wasn’t some dream he’d concocted in his final moments on earth.
“Ms. (Y/L/N)’s lawyer, your brother, called. He had been unable to get through to you. At first the phone rang, but when he tried again and again, it kept going to voicemail. So… He contacted us fearing the worst. In our conversation with him, some of the details he mentioned about the officer he had spoken to earlier in the day led us to look into Arthur Ketch. Only to discover he had been missing for hours,”
The near automatic drone of the detective’s voice hinted at practised and rehearsed words he’d probably already shared with the girl from apartment 42 earlier while Dean was still unconscious. Yet, to him it all just sounded like excuses. As if the uniformed man was rambling, looking for some way to excuse his own failures.
Of course, it was Sammy.
In this whole fucked up situation, the only person they could have counted on was Sam. He had a good head on his shoulders. And once more, he’d managed to save the day.
“Mr. Winch… I mean, Sam Winchester then pushed us to bring a few officers out to the lakehouse to check on you, having a hunch regarding Arthur Ketch. Which was verified when we realised that the earlier sightings and reports of Brian in town had been filed by Ketch himself,” Detective Davies continued his rehearsed speech, choosing to ignore the burning look Dean threw his way as he focused on the wall over his head instead.
The detective’s earlier words echoed in the back of Dean’s mind, giving him pause. It all made sense now. Why Davies had been so sure Brian was nowhere near the cabin when he called them. Ketch had filed false reports spotting Brian in town to throw them off the scent and buy them a few more hours. That bastard had played the whole system.
All for his sadistic little plan.
“So when you realised…” Dean pushed when he noticed that Davies had stopped speaking, waiting for some form of input from him.
“Yes, when we then realised that Brian could be on his way to your location, we mobilised a full team. Plus we got another team working on finding out everything we can about Mr. Ketch as well. The results so far have been… Troubling,” Davies picked up where he left off with a curt nod. His lips pursing and brow furrowing at the idea of one of their own pulling one over on them.
“He did talk about how he’d been running circles around you guys this whole time,” Dean hadn’t meant for the words to make the detective flinch. Yet, as he saw Mick Davies’ otherwise tense and strict hold shift uncomfortably, he found some twisted pleasure in putting the detective back in his place. This was all their fault.
Opening his mouth to argue against Dean’s words, the detective seemed to think better of it as he shook his head with a tired, defeated sigh. His shoulders falling as he seemed less like an officer standing at parade rest, and more like just a man.
“Unfortunately… It also seems he’s been using government databases to feed Brian information. Much of what Mr. Lackland learned about Ms. (Y/L/N)... About both of you, was information given to him by Mr. Arthur Ketch. I’m sorry to say that he was telling the truth, he has been hindering this investigation from day one,” Davies finally said with a sigh. Admitting to their failures, even though he still put all the blame on the monster in their midst.
“Stop calling him that,” Before Davies could continue his robotic retelling, a small voice spoke up from next to Dean. (Y/N)’s voice was low and barely audible. But in the quiet of the hospital room, with only the machines attached to Dean’s body whirring and beeping away, her words were still clearly audible to both of the men in the room.
For a beat, the room fell silent as the detective tried to wrap his head around her words. His lips parting and closing around nothing as he tried to find some fault in his own by-the-book retelling of the events.
“Stop calling that monster Mr. Ketch. He is one of yours! A detective,” (Y/N)’s voice was stronger this time around, growing in volume as (Y/H/C) hair whipped around her when she turned to throw the words directly at the detective. Making him once more frown. Though not from guilt, Dean noted, but rather confusion.
“No Mr… Officer Ketch was never a detective. It is true that he was aiming to become one. He had recently passed the exam, but… Some of his previous arrests were… Dubious. So, he was under heavy review,” The detective picked his words carefully. Rolling them around in his mouth before delivering each and every carefully selected word as he paused between statements.
In the hospital bed, Dean froze for a second as the realisation hit him, before slowly, painstakingly so, sitting up a little more in the bed. Gritting his teeth against the dull pain that was once again returning now that whatever painkillers they’d pumped him full of were slowly waning.
Ketch’s whole plan, the plan that had hinged on him rising through the ranks, had failed from the start. Even if something had happened to (Y/N) that night, it wouldn’t have been Ketch that got the case. Damn it, the bastard wasn’t just sadistic, he was delusional. Just like his puppet, Brian. Both of them had been living out their own sick, twisted play. And (Y/N) had been cast as the unwilling lead. By two delusional bastards.
Looking back up, Dean realised the room had grown quiet again as his eyes went from (Y/N)’s fiery ones and over to the confused detective looking at them both for clarification. But the girl from apartment 42 kept her lips firmly together, pursed in annoyance and anger as she refused to meet the detective’s eye. Keeping herself busy by letting fidgeting hands straighten out Dean’s sheets and fussing over him whenever he grimaced uncontrollably from a new burst of dull pain. The fire in her eyes softened as she busied herself fixing his pillows to try and make him more comfortable.
“He told us he was. He said that when he planned this whole thing back a year ago. He had Brian wait because he needed a promotion. That he had planned it all out so he would lead the investigation if (Y/N) was… If I hadn’t been there that first night,” Dean finally clarified as he reached for her hand. Unwilling to talk about what could have happened that night if he hadn’t been around and if she hadn’t slept on his couch instead of going back to apartment 42.
“Well, he had been promoted within the ranks of officers, but not to the level where he’d lead a missing persons case,” Davies hesitated over his words as he took a small notepad out of his jacket pocket. Jotting something down as he mulled Dean’s words over. For a second the only sound in the room was pen against paper as he quickly wrote down the details, before shutting the notebook with an audible snap and placing it back in his jacket.
“We still have a lot to investigate. And I can’t do anything but apologise for the fact that our operation was compromised the way it was, but… We have them both in custody. And though we need to wait for the results of the investigation and the subsequent court proceedings, I am confident they’ll both be going away for a very long time,” He finally continued, summing up the short retelling of events with words that portrayed the anger simmering right under the surface in the detective as well.
Though the words were standard and basic, devoid of any emotion, Dean could tell… Arthur Ketch had betrayed his comrades at the police station. And they weren’t going to let that go.
“I hope they rot in jail,” (Y/N) spat, her eyes still only on Dean as she carefully brushed some hair out of his face before curling her trembling fingers into a tight fist. She was trying so hard to be strong. And it broke Dean’s heart. Lifting his hand, he gently pried the fingers loose, holding her small hand in his own as he kept his eyes on hers, even when the detective continued speaking.
“We have them both on attempted murder charges, as well as attempted kidnapping, bodily harm… The list goes on and on. Not to mention that Officer Ketch has additional charges for hindering the investigation, aiding and abetting a criminal, and the theft of a standard issue firearm, since both guns found at the scene were police issued weapons,” The detective’s words were nothing but facts, but they held a promise. To both the police itself, and to the girl from apartment 42, that he would do everything in his power to lock them up and throw away the key.
Making a show out of looking at his wrist watch, the detective released a tired sigh as he looked out the hospital window at the sun that was slowly rising over the horizon and painting the sky in the first few soft shades of pink.
“Now, we’ll need…” He started, but before he could finish his sentence he was cut down by the door nearly hitting the wall as it was pushed open. The end of his sentence, fully drowned out by the redhead in the doorway as she let out a relieved sob from seeing her best friend safe and sound.
“(Y/N)!” Charlie rushed into the room along with Gabriel, both of them ignoring the detective as they nearly threw themselves at the girl from apartment 42. Fuzzing over her as they looked for any signs of injuries on their best friend.
Looking at the scene with a tired smile, Dean let his eyes drift towards the door to give them some semblance of privacy as his eyes met a frazzled Sam’s. Throwing his worried brother a lopsided grin, he chuckled weakly at the tried and tested eye roll he got in return as his little brother rushed to his side.
“Sorry I didn’t answer your call, I was kinda… Tied up,” Dean joked. Though, by the look in Sam’s eyes, his attempt at humour fell flat as his brother just squared his jaw and shook his head. Sending shaggy brown hair flying back and forth. His normally perfectly styled appearance, which came with the job, all out of place as the signs of Sammy’s night were written clearly on his body. From the wrinkled mess of a shirt to the way his hair fell haphazardly around his face after clearly having spent the better part of the night pulling at it in worry.
“Jerk…” Sam just huffed in return, his voice tired and worried as he took in the machines surrounding his brother.
“What did the…” Before Sam could ask any more questions, the detective cleared his throat and nodded towards the door.
“I’ll give you all a…” Shutting his mouth as Charlie scoffed at him, he just nodded curtly before making his way to the door to give them all a moment.
Looking around the room, at the small group of friends, family and strangers that had all been pulled together by the hellish events, Dean finally felt himself fully relax.
