Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x Reader
Dean Di Laurentis found the list by accident.
That was the only reason he wasn’t immediately defensive about it, because if it had been intentional, he would have absolutely gotten smug and impossible about it just to annoy you.
Instead, he was standing in your room with his hoodie half on, looking for his phone charger while you were in the bathroom, when he spotted the folded piece of paper on your desk with his name written in the corner of the notebook page underneath it.
He should have ignored it.
Dean picked it up, unfolding it with the casual curiosity of a man who had not yet realized he was about to ruin his own emotional stability.
The first line made him pause.
Then he sat down slowly on the edge of your bed like his legs had briefly stopped working.
Because the page was full of names.
Not random names. Not class notes. Not a grocery list. Baby names.
There were neat little pairs written in your handwriting, some crossed out, some starred, some with little notes beside them.
Elliot — sounds strong June — pretty, soft Theo — maybe too serious Sophie — cute Milo — no Lila — maybe if it’s a girl Noah — good with Dean’s last name? Adrian — maybe Violet — pretty James — too common Wren — love this one
Dean stared at the page for a long time.
His chest felt strange. Not bad. Not panic, exactly. More like surprise had decided to settle somewhere deep and warm and inconvenient.
You came back into the room drying your hands on a towel and froze the second you saw him holding the paper.
Dean looked up very slowly.
And in the space of one terrifying second, all the blood seemed to rush out of your face.
Dean blinked once. “So, uh.”
You crossed the room so fast it almost counted as a run. “You were not supposed to see that.”
He looked down at the page again, then back up at you. “You made a baby name list.”
You made a horrified sound. “Give that back.”
Dean lifted it a little higher, just out of your reach. “Absolutely not.”
He stared at you with wide, stunned eyes and the beginnings of a grin that he was clearly trying and failing to suppress. “Did you really write ‘good with Dean’s last name?’”
Your whole face went hot. “I was brainstorming.”
“That is my favorite thing you’ve ever said.”
You groaned and dropped your forehead into your hand. “I hate you.”
“Yes, I do, because this is humiliating.”
Dean stood up, still holding the page, and took one slow step toward you. “You made a list.”
“It has my last name on it.”
You peeked at him through your fingers. “That does not make it less private.”
Dean looked down at the list again and then smiled, softer now. Not smug. Not teasing. Something gentler and far more dangerous because he clearly knew exactly what he was doing to your nerves.
“You were really thinking about this?” he asked.
You lowered your hand. “Not, like, right now. It’s just, I don’t know. I was thinking.”
He held your gaze. “About babies?”
You crossed your arms. “Maybe a little.”
He looked like he had just been handed the universe and had no idea what to do with it.
That was the problem with Dean. He could go from cocky to completely undone in the span of two seconds if you gave him something real enough.
He glanced back down at the page and read a few names under his breath. “Violet, June, Elliot…”
You nearly died on the spot. “Stop reading it.”
Dean looked up, and now he was smiling so openly that it made your stomach feel warm and helpless. “You have opinions about future baby names.”
You sighed dramatically. “I was bored.”
He folded the page once, carefully, like it had somehow become something fragile instead of embarrassing. Then he tucked it into his back pocket, which made you stare at him in horror.
He looked down at you, eyes bright with amusement. “What?”
“You are not keeping that.”
He lifted a brow. “I absolutely am.”
You took a step toward him. “Give it back.”
You made a scandalized sound. “Evidence of what?”
Dean smiled, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “That you think about me in your baby name lists.”
That made your face feel like it was on fire.
“You are impossible,” you muttered.
Dean’s eyes softened a little when he saw how flustered you were. Then, because he was Dean and could not possibly resist making the whole thing worse, he lifted one hand and brushed his thumb lightly against your cheek.
“You really thought I wouldn’t like this?” he asked softly.
You looked up at him. “I thought you’d tease me.”
“I didn’t think you’d be this happy about it.”
His smile changed into something quieter. More honest.
He held your gaze and said, in the simplest voice possible, “You’re thinking about a future that has me in it.”
His hand stayed warm against your face. “That’s kind of insane.”
You laughed weakly. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m trying to be serious.”
“That is always suspicious coming from you.”
He grinned a little, but his voice stayed soft. “No, really. That’s…” He paused, then looked almost shy for half a second. “That’s really sweet.”
Dean Di Laurentis calling something sweet like it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing in the world made your chest feel too full.
“You’re blushing,” he said.
“Because you’re making fun of me.”
You stared at him. “Dean.”
He shrugged, still smiling. “A little, maybe.”
You reached for the paper in his pocket, and he caught your wrist with a laugh.
You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not letting you keep that.”
He leaned in, voice low and playful again. “Then make a better list.”
Then he kissed your forehead, still laughing under his breath, and you had to look away before he could see how much that one tiny gesture had gotten to you.
He tugged you gently closer after that, resting his forehead against yours for a second.
“You know,” he murmured, “I’m very interested in the rest of this list.”
“You are not allowed to be this smug over a notebook page.”
He smiled against your mouth when you looked back at him. “I absolutely am.”
And then, because he could not leave it alone, he kissed you once more and said, “For the record, I think June sounds nice.”
He gave you a very serious look. “What?”
You buried your face in his chest to hide your laugh, and Dean held you there with that stupidly soft expression of his, still very much acting like he had not just discovered the possibility of a future that included both your name and his.
And he was never going to let you forget it.
