Fan fic from Supernatural, Peaky Blinders, and any other fandom that sparks my imagination... đź–¤
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
Rain on the Roof
These were the best nights. We had snuck out of the motel just the two of us and found an empty field not far away. It was something special we did together whenever they were calling for a big thunderstorm. It was our own version of “date night” since we never really got the chance to go on more traditional dates. When the thunder had started, Dean had shook me awake and whispered, “Wanna go for a drive?” I smiled, knowing exactly what he meant. We grabbed a bottle of whiskey and left Sam sleeping.
Now, we sat facing each other in the back seat of Dean’s precious Impala, passing the bottle between us. Sometimes, when we did this, we would just drink. Sometimes we talked-about everything or about nothing at all. Once in a while, if we hadn’t had enough alone time in a few weeks, we would rush ourselves through a quickie, all frienzied and hungry for each other.
But tonight that didn’t happen. We watched each other silently as a classic rock song played quietly through the speakers of the car. Dean’s hand was resting on my leg, gently caressing me with his fingertips so softly it almost tickled. The thunder boomed steadily through the air, as lightning periodically lit up the sky, giving me glimpses of Dean when it flashed.
“What are you thinking about?” Dean asked. It was the first either of us had spoken since Dean had told me to follow him to the Impala.
“Hmmm...” I hummed, perfectly content. “I’m thinking about how this car feels more comfortable to me than anywhere else, and there’s no one I’d rather be sitting here with.”
“Really? Why?” He knew why he felt that way, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes as to why I would say it.
I shrugged my shoulders and took another swig of whiskey. “You’re my favorite person in the entire world, and I guess the car just reminds me of you. And of all the nights we’ve spent locked in this backseat, listening to it rain.” Thunder rumbled loudly again, and it seemed to shake the ground. “What are you thinking about?” Unlike him though, I knew the answer to my own question. I had seen it in his eyes with the last flash of lightning.
Sure enough, instead of saying a word, he moved toward me, covering my small frame with his much larger one. With our bodies pressed together, Dean pulled me even closer and our lips met. We’d had a lot of sex in the back seat of the Impala, but there was something different about this kiss. He didn’t rush it, instead allowing our tongues to explore each other slowly. He was touching me in a way that told me he was savoring every moment, trying to burn it into his memory forever. It caught me off guard slightly. It was unusual for us to take our time, regardless of where we were. Usually, we were so starved for each other that by the time we got around to it, neither one of us could wait. But of the rare occasions that we had gone slow, it had never been in the Impala. That was one place where we went when we couldn’t get alone anywhere else and it was always driven by hormones and need for one another.
Eventually, we had to break apart for air. But when we did, neither of us looked away. I was lost in his eyes. They were the most beautiful green, and as alive as the ocean. To my surprise, instead of pushing for more, Dean shifted us onto our sides, still facing each other, and rested his forehead against mine. I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed like that, enveloped in each other’s arms listening to the storm rage outside. Thunder made the car rumble and lightning flashes lit up Dean’s face. Soft rock still swayed through the speakers.
I lifted my hand to touch the scruff that had grown on his cheek, savoring the feel of his skin under my fingertips. I took a deep breath, inhaling Dean’s distinct scent. He always smelled like a combination of whiskey, leather, and grease, along with the faint traces of the soap he used to try to wash it all off with. To me, there was no better scent in the world.
Our lips met again, and just as before, either of us felt the need to rush ourselves. Our hands trailed over one another, gently memorizing the other’s body. My hands worked their way underneath Dean’s shirt to feel the soft skin on his back. I could feel his muscles ripple as he moved. He was extremely lean and strong from a lifetime of hunting, but his skin was soft and smooth as velvet. One of my hands found its way under the denim of his jeans and I traced the skin just under the waistband of his boxers. He inhaled deeply; it was one of his favorite places to be touched.
“Alex,” He exhaled my name, almost like a prayer. I went to pull his lips to mine once again, but he resisted a little.
“What, babe?” My eyes found his once again, unsure of what I would find there. It wasn’t like him to refuse anything I offered. But there was no conflict in them. They were calm and peaceful. His arms were still wrapped around me, and the way he looked at me kept my panic at bay.
“I, uh, have something to give you.” He sat up and pulled me with him. I’ll admit I was more than curious. Dean wasn’t usually one to give gifts. He picked up the whiskey and took another sip. He handed it to me, and I did the same before setting the bottle on the floorboard. Dean leaned over into the front seat and opened the glovebox, digging for something. He finally pulled out a small, maroon drawstring pouch.
I had pulled my legs toward me, and was sitting cross legged. Seeing me, Dean leaned back over the front and pulled a blanket from under the seat. He sat down close to me, and draped the soft cotton over my shoulders kissing me again. It was short and gentle, but there was a soft passion to it that I hadn’t expected. He rested one hand on my knee and handed me the small gift.
I took it from him, and it was so light I might have thought it was empty. I glanced at Dean and saw apprehension building behind his eyes now. He took a ragged breath, trying to steady himself. As thunder resonated through the air, I smiled quietly, trying to reassure him. Untying the bag, I tipped the contents into the palm of my hand. I found myself holding a small, thin gold band. Now I was confused.
“Dean, wha-“ I started, but was interrupted.
“No, Alex, just listen.” He covered the palm that was holding the ring with his own hand and held steady, his eyes intense and burning with sincerity. “I know we’re not exactly traditional. And I know with our pasts, we’d never be able to go to a courthouse and make it legal, but I don’t need a piece of paper. I just need you to know that I’m serious. You’re it for me.”
“Dean, I—” I was lost for words. There was no denying he meant every word. All the anxiety that I had seen earlier had vanished. I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Dean, you know you’re it for me too. A ring wasn’t necessary. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“I wanted to give you a formal commitment. You deserve so much more, but it’s all I can give you. You’re it. They’re more than just words, and I would marry you if we could.” He released my hand and took the ring gently, slipping it onto my left ring finger. At that moment, the backseat of that Impala was my entire world. Rain gently bounced off the roof, and Dean held my hands, making absolutely sure I knew he was for real. “It’s no diamond, but it’s all I have. It was my mom’s,” he confessed, spinning it around my finger.
“It’s perfect. And it’s all I need.” My eyes were starting to fill with tears, knowing that he had given me the one tangible piece of his mother he still had. My hands found his and squeezed. A lump was forming in my throat, burning with the effort it was taking me not to cry. My tears spilled over, and my eyes found Dean’s once again. They had gone from being as alive as the ocean to being fierce and protective. Ever so gently, he wiped the tears from my cheek. He leaned forward, and our lips met once again. Somehow, it was different this time. We had always had chemistry and passion, but this went deeper. Our kiss this time was like a chain, anchoring us to each other. Dean pulled me into him and my hands moved to his face.
I was surprised when I felt dampness on his cheeks. I had never know Dean to get too emotional, and it shocked me. I pulled away and took. Deep breath.
“Babe, talk to me. What’s wrong?” I wiped away the tears that had escaped.
“I just...” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine. I let him gather his thoughts. We sat in the backseat in silence, and I realized the rain had finally stopped. When Dean finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion, but as steady as a heart beat. “I never thought any woman I cared about would care enough about me to stick around.”
#deanwinchester#romance#supernatural#impala#dean winchester#love#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester fanfiction#love dean winchester
0 notes