#dragging Dean kicking and screaming to a place of mental healing

[arcticficialbanana]

Revealing

Pairing: BiFemale!Reader x Jack SPN

Word Count: 11,449 (I know, but I am so proud of it)

Warnings: Tiny angst, medium fluff.

A/N: Request from my most loyal reader @draiela about the song Saturn by Sleeping at Last “i just got an urge from listening to the song and a path of self acceptance ive been on lately with being myself around myself and others if that makes sense.. [the request was a whole conversation, so I copied the main story point]

Your name: submit What is this?

 “Could I ask you to help me out?” you finally break the silence after walking with Jack for nearly a mile around the park.

 “What do you need?” he asks very seriously, forming a knot in his forehead.

 “I’m taking this photography class.” You motion a fake camera with your fingers and close one eye to look at the trees along the path.

 “What’s this?” he says as he leans in to inspect the arrangement of your fingers.

 You turn to him suddenly and flick your finger in a mock-snapshot, making a clicking noise with your tongue.

 He moves back defensively and his eyes widen at your hands, making you giggle and drop them to your sides. He always lightens your mood when you need it most.

 “I just need a few hours of your time to take some photos. Play around with lighting and backgrounds.” you see a bench up ahead and make your way over to sit down.

 “It’s no big deal, but it can get creepy with a stranger with all of the staring and I don’t want them to think I’m going to make a wall of their face or something.” you kick your feet in front of you, swinging them back and forth underneath the bench.

 “I don’t know why you would make a wall of someone’s face.” Jack screws up his eyebrows as though he is bewildered by your statement.

 “Exactly. I don’t want them to think I’m a lunatic.” You give an awkward and toothy smile.

 “I don’t understand what you need me to do?” Jack says with concern.

 “Not much actually, I just know it won’t be weird with you. The assignment is this before and after photo, where one person is shown in two very different images.” you wave your hands around to different parts of an imaginary storyboard of ideas you see.

 Jack nods wordlessly with a tight lips and a clenched jaw. You aren’t looking directly at him, but you know he’s trying to figure something out in his head. After Dean yelled at him for having too many questions he’s been holding a lot of it in, until he can’t take it anymore and he practically explodes with words.

 “Let’s go get my camera and we can take version one now. I was thinking just the way you are would be a really good starting point.” You slip off the bench.

 Jack nods his head, mulling something over silently.

 You side glance at him, catching his sharp yet soft features. He’s a perfect subject for the assignment. How can such contrasting details in his face blend perfectly into...Jack? Smooth, curving lips. Flawless, baby soft skin. Delicate, neatly arranged hair. Yet also... the straight, rigid lines that make up his jaw. His pointed noise and piercing eyes. He is such a...swan. Poised and picturesque while also being dangerous and strong.

 You feel a whoosh against your face and brush right past Castiel in the library, reaching for an Enochian history. You quickly look over your shoulder and notice Cas is inspecting you, making you feel uneasy. You continue down the hall and shake it off; the residual chills running through you.

 Jack walks in with you and grabs a box sitting on your dresser, “Is this it?” he holds it in his fingers the way you positioned yours before, mimicking a camera. 

 He taps on it with his index finger to see if it will click.

 You turn as you adjust the camera strap on your neck and suck in your lip to keep from laughing. You walk over and grab the box of tampons and throw them in a dresser drawer, “No, I found it,” you point at the device around your neck and shut the drawer.

 You replaced his empty hands with a case of filter lenses and walked out of the room, “Carry that!” you shout, knowing he might try to put it in the dresser as well.

 As you pass through the library once more Cas isn’t around anymore and the rest of the bunker is empty. Perfect. This is the place for the before photo.

 “Tell me how the caged bird sings, Jack.” you stop in the front room, where most of the ‘family time’ happens lately. Ironically, the war room will show his softer side through contrast.

 You peek through the viewfinder and aim at your cinnamon roll. He has his mouth hanging open but again no sound comes out.

 “Argh.” You lower the camera. He takes a breath in and closes his mouth.

 “Come here,” you pat on the table and he walks up to the edge of a chair, “No, Jack, come up here.” You insistently tap your finger on the map covered in little utensils of measurement.  “But,” Jack starts to protest, and not finding any viable reason not to crawl onto the table, pulls himself on top. You clear the way a little bit, so he doesn’t learn the pain of tiny trinkets stabbing in unwanted places. A whole different kind of torture.  “Why here?” he asks, probably trying to recall a time he saw Dean or Sam standing on a table that wasn’t during a fight.  “Well,” you come around the other side of him, dragging your hand along the edges of the map, “This is meant to plan fighting strategies, and uses of weapons...” you pick up a couple of toy soldiers and tap their heads together, “But it’s so colorful. It looks more like a children’s game.”  “Like Risk?” Jack says, scanning the board and no doubt recognizing the similarities.  “Exactly like Risk.” You frown and toss the soldiers aside.

 You look through the viewfinder again, then let it down to hang by your stomach. You lean over the table, closer to Jack, allowing the camera to sway slowly back and forth.  “It’s just so mismatched like you. War and games, Jack.” you place a hand on either side of his face, tilting his head up and watching him watch you.  “Color and killing.” you mumble after you let go of him to hoist yourself up onto the table.

 You hover above him, making sure to get several different outlines of bright countries surrounding him inside the frame.  “Look at me.” you start snapping some test shots through the camera, “Good, now look at the ceiling above me.” you notice a muscle in his neck, elongated and had the sudden urge to brush it with your finger. But you didn’t. That would be weird, right?  Jack turns his eyes from the ceiling back to you. He waits for you to say something, but is clearly picking up on your stupid thoughts. You feel your face burn a little bit and start rambling a little bit, “Okay, close your eyes.” 

 He shuts them obediently.

 “So..what’s going on with you?” you divert the silent subject, and he opens his eyes to furrow his brows at you, “No, keep them closed. And relax your face.” you continue directing him wordlessly with your hands as you chatter, “I mean, are you feeling okay?”  “I am not unwell.” he says with a hint of suspicion in his voice.  No. Not suspicion. Jack isn’t capable of suspicion in his sweet, trusting state. Maybe it was more confusion.  “You’ve been trying to say something all day, Jack. I can see it on your face.” you counter, while moving his head around in different directions.  “I ...I’ve been trying not to-” he says in a restrained, twisted voice, “I am trying to learn the right time to speak and the right time to ask.” he chooses carefully.

 You drop the camera to your belly and frown at him. Sweet boy, what are you talking about. “Is this because of Dean?” you wrinkle your forehead and make a mental note to punch him in the back of the neck next time you see that jerk.  “No, don’t-” Jack pipes up, seeing your signature aggravation spawning, “I just want to be more...” he searches for the words.  But you see it written all over his look. Normal. Useful. Independent. Undemanding.

 “Oh, Jack.” you sit down and grab his hand, calloused and covered in tiny scratches from training. “I love you so much, do you know that?”  “I care about you more than anybody in the universe.” you are sure to look him in the eyes this time, rubbing your thumb over the smoothing tiny scratches, never bound to become scars due to his healing. “More than Dean, more than Sam, more than anybody, Jack.” he watches your fingers intertwine with his, “I cannot think of a more perfect and special person in the universe.” you say, heart beating hard with pain as you think about the internal conflicts he’s struggled through.

 “You.” he says.

 Immediately your face flushes with heat and you freeze in surprise. “I-” you look for sounds to come out of your mouth but you only end up stuttering silence.

 You let go of his hand and swing your legs to the other side of the table, “Hold on, I’ve got something for you.” You hop off and jog up the couple of steps, camera smacking from one side of your ribcage to another as you wind through the halls to the kitchen.

 You stop in the doorway, holding the frame to brace yourself as you catch your breath. A trickle of sweat runs down your forehead and you blink, trying to remember why you came here.  You look around and see a box on a shelf, “Ah, yes.” you exhale and run your hand from from your brow to the crown of your head.  Weird. You feel chill, despite the blood pumping through you from the impromptu jogging.  You rip open the box and reach your hand in to snag a couple of candy bars you had Sam get on the last shopping run. You jam them into your pockets and turn to walk back to the War Room. Normal speed.  You look through the carousel of photographs you’ve taken and feel like you just haven’t captured his innocence correctly.  I mean, how can someone just SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT? you scream inside your head. You start clicking more ferociously through the photos until you reach back to the first one.  You let out a slow breath and calm down before arriving at the table.

 Jack sits there, hands wrapped around his knees loosely, awaiting further instructions. You smile subconsciously and he lights up at the end of a wrapper sticking out of your bulging pockets.  “Is that for me?” He is suddenly rigid, awaiting your approval.

 “Yeah, thanks for helping, Jack.” you toss him one of the bars and pure glee washes over him as he secures the catch.

 You begin pulling out the second bar for yourself, but in seeing him washed over in joy you rasp to yourself, “That’s it!”

 You snatch the camera up and start snapping away, crawling onto the table without pausing your shoot.

 You wake up early, unable to shake the feeling that something is bothering Jack. You rub your eyes with the back of your hand and stare at the ceiling. Was he diverting the conversation so I wouldn’t ask him about it? You wonder up at the darkness. No, that isn’t like Jack. He’s doesn’t calculate. You’re just projecting your mistrust of other people onto him. One of your favorite traits about Jack is his inability to speak dishonestly. He is straightforward and open, while also being so accepting and understanding of anything you ever tell him.

 You decide to check in on him, although you were sure it was just before dawn. You slip some socks on and walk over to Jack’s room.

 You rap lightly on the door, and turn the handle gently so it doesn’t make a noise.

 “Y/N?” he says, sitting peacefully against his headboard.

 “Right.” you close the door behind you, “I forget sometimes that you don’t sleep.”

 “Sometimes. I sleep a little amount.” he shrugs.

 “Do you mind if I lay with you?” you point at the bed.

 “I don’t mind.” he says, allowing you to walk over and lay down on top of the sheets.

 “Are you going to lay down?” you chuckle as he continues to sit against the headboard.

 “Sure.” he says and adjusts himself into the laying position.

 “What am I supposed to do?” he asks, looking at the ceiling.

 “Nothing, just relax.” you turn on your side and watch his face in the darkness.

  After acknowledging with an, “Okay.” he lays there silently as though you aren’t there.

 “Do you mind if I lay my head on your chest?” you wait for his approval, and with his, “I don’t mind.” you nuzzle closer to him, moving his arm around you and laying your head on his warm skin.   You hear his heart beating, steadily with a rhythm like a bass drum. You imagine that your heart sounds like a piano, and together they almost make a musician’s band.  You hum an imaginary tune of a violin to your fantasy band and the vibrations from your throat ring against Jack’s ribcage and sound in your ear.

 A short while later you open your eyes and realize you must have fallen asleep, your arm wrapped around Jack’s chest like a ribbon.  You peel your arm away carefully and retract it to your body, curling it in closely. Your hand was still warm from where it rested on his delicate ribcage. You tuck your hand under your cheek while you wait for your eyes to adjust to the darkness.  Slowly, Jack’s face comes into focus. He’s asleep. You think in surprise. It’s really amazing, but in all of this time you’ve never seen him asleep. But unlike other people, hunters don’t look calm when they sleep. Even in their dreams they are battling, and on the verge of rushing out of sleep at the slightest sign of danger in the waking world.

 “I’m here.” you try to whisper to his subconscious, hoping that the crease between his brows will subside at the sound of your voice. Maybe you were connected. Maybe he needed you. Then you would feel like somebody in this world needed you.

 You move your limbs slowly, the way you would approach a target to catch them by surprise. You thanked the Men of Letters for making the bed frames from sturdy wood, crafted with care so as not to squeak when moving around.  You close the door behind you with a snail’s pace, like a game of ‘Don’t wake Jack’.

 “That’s new.” Dean mumbles into his coffee mug as he passes you in the hallway. You nearly jump out of your skin and praise yourself for having already carefully latched the doorknob into place.

 “Shut up.” you snarl at Dean and swiftly rush toward the bathroom.

 After a refreshing shower and other preparing for the day you think about telling Jack your part 2 plan for the photographs.

 You run one last brush through your hair for good measure and go across the hall to Jack’s room. The door was open, so you walk right into a scene you were not expecting.

 Cas was sitting on one side of the room, Dean was standing by the bed on the other side of the room, and in the middle was Jack - laying the way you’d left him this morning.

 “What’s going on?” you speak up so Dean and the others turn to you.

 “Ah, Y/N.” Dean brings his hands together making a dull ‘clap’, “I was just explaining the birds and the bees to Jack, here.” he motions at the bed.

 “What?” You growl, half shock and half confusion. Castiel and Jack share your confusion and turn simultaneously to Dean.

 “You know, about protection and all that.” Dean winks at you.

 “You idiot - it’s not what you think.” You begin to defend.

 Jack and Castiel speak at the same time, talking over one another at Dean, but Dean cuts them off and turns back to Jack, “I’m just kidding. I was telling Jack that Cas and I are going to run some monster errands if you know what I mean, and Sammy is going to stay behind to research any lore he can to help us out.”

 “There were no birds or bees.” Castiel clarified, “I believe it’s a black aggie.”

 “Eh, I think it’s just a statue, but we’ve gotta check it out.” Dean interjects.

 “Like Doctor Who?” you smirk and Dean screws his face up at you, “Why are you speaking gibberish to me?” 

 He knocks on Jack’s headboard, “Anyway,” he starts walking toward the door, “We’re out of here.” you step out of his way before he barrels through you, seeing as he takes up most of the doorway.

 “He didn’t say anything about protection.” Jack says as you stand there in silence, listening for the guys to get out of the hallway.

 “Does he want us to help Sam research about protection from the statue?” he asks.

 “Nah,” you lean into the hallway for good measure, “Get dressed, we’re going to develop my photos.”

 “Okay. Will I need any weapons?” he asks.

 You lean back into the room, “What?” you look at his serous face, “No. I’ve made a dark room to process the photos I took on the camera into physical pictures.” you explain as you walk over to his closet.

 “Here, wear this, it doesn’t matter.” you throw a hanger at him and toss him some jeans.

 “Okay.” he says and you walk out of the room, “Meet me in the kitchen, I’m grabbing some coffee.”

 He nods and you walk off to prep your first cup of the day.

 A few minutes later he walks in and you take his arm to direct him to a mostly empty storage room where you’d set up black out curtains in a corner. You push past the thick fabric and reveal some red lights illuminating a clothes line and trays of liquid on a couple of tables.

 “I want you to know that what we are about to talk about is for ONLY YOU to hear!” you emphasize, drawing in a hard breath as you prepare to let out a river of secrets.

 Jack looks around and nods at you triumphantly, “Yes, I am the only one in the room.”

 You roll your eyes but don’t want to defeat his accomplishment right now. “Okay...but Jack,” you lay your hands on the table and press your fingertips into it nervously, “this is meant ONLY FOR YOU. Don’t tell anybody what we talk about today.” you bore into him with your eyes awaiting his acknowledgement.  “Alright, I won’t tell anybody.” he says. You release the long breath building up inside you and begin to move around the photo making supplies.  “Jack do you know what it means when someone is straight?” you avoid eye contact with him as you pour measured amounts of chemicals into vats.  “Doesn’t it mean they are standing or laying down? If they are straight they make a line-”  “No Jack,” you cut him off, “let me put it this way... do you know what it means if someone is gay?”

 Jack ponders silently and you gnaw on the inside of your cheek nervously. What was most likely four seconds felt like minutes later, Jack says “No, I do not think I know what that means.”  You continue fiddling with prints and bottles and trays as you think about how to approach this subject. Like a child, Jack is questioning and open to learn. Unfortunately, you are uncomfortable and awkward and wish you could just transfer him your knowledge instead of having to explain anything.

 Wait. Why are you awkward around Jack? It’s Jack. You feel your muscles slowly relax and you cleanse yourself with a fresh breath.

 You turn to look at him and smile immediately, as he always makes you feel giddy when you look directly at him.

 “Well, straight people like someone of a different gender. Gay people like someone of the same gender.” As you say it out loud it sounds both stupid and also simple and not entirely a good explanation.  Jack’s face seems to agree with your assessment that this is not an adequate explanation.  “So...if Sam were gay he might like Cas...” you say, although you’re not sure if angels have specific genders and what the identity dynamics were based on what body an angel is currently occupying or had previously occupied.  Before you can drift too off track Jack hums, “So when Dean will talk to a lady when we get dinner, he is straight?”

 “Um..” you repeat back to yourself what he said and slowly nod at him, “Although I’m not sure why you qualified when he does that...but yeah that would make him straight.” you scratch your head and wonder if Jack might be on to something with a ‘when’ qualifier.  Now that you’ve explained the basic zero or one scale, you think about how to show him more of a spectrum scale. You rake your teeth against your bottom lip as you clip the last print to drip dry on a hanging line.  You reach for your mug and as you tip it to your face nothing touches your lips. You realize it’s time for a refill so you push through the curtains and hear Jack following behind you. Trying to form the words together for the next part of your explanation prove more difficult than you initially pictured for this conversation.

 “I don’t know what I am.” Jack says, making you nearly drop the coffee pot into the sink.

 “Erm.. well...you know someone can be more than just gay or straight.” You internally cringe as you’ve never said the words gay or straight so many times in your life before this conversation.

 “What if they like everybody?” Jack asks matter of factly, putting so simply into words what you are overcomplicating.

 Yeah, what if. You think as you take a sip of the mug, nearly spitting it out immediately. “The coffee’s burnt.” you pour it down the drain and stick your tongue out at Jack.  “Come on, let’s get some coffee outside.” you rinse the mug and lay it in the rack to dry. It’s a perfect opportunity after all to introduce him to someone special.

 As you walk out the kitchen you fidget nervously. Excitedly. You can’t stand it and take Jack’s hand unapologetically, as holding him usually calms you down. Jack, your sweet bug, doesn’t say anything weird in response.

 “Before I forget let me explain my concept for the second photo.” you swing your hand back and forth, taking Jack’s hand for a ride along.

 “Does your beard grow?” you peek at his jawline, clean and smooth and pale skinned.

 Jack leads his free hand up to his face where he notices you inspecting his chin. “You mean my face hair?” he rubs his fingers along the edges of his face, down his neckline. A tiny chill runs through you.

 “Mhmm.” you murmur acknowledgement as cool air brushes your cheeks in a rush with the door opening.

 “Sam showed me how to shave a long time ago. Since I don’t sleep much I usually groom myself while everyone else is sleeping.” his warm hand encloses yours like a mitten.

 “I wish I had that power.” you scoff, thinking of all the priming you could do in the wasted hours of sleep. No wonder he always looks so perfect. But how can you have such flawless skin and no dark circles without beauty sleep?

 “What power?” Jack touches his face suddenly, and as you peek at him his inquisition is plastered all over his face. You giggle as you imagine him wondering if facial hair growth is a super power. Ugh. You internally groan and wish you had the power not to grow hair.

 “Actually, I just want you to let it grow for a little bit, okay? Once I feel it’s right we can take pictures.” You notice some stones lined up in a row ahead and walk over them, using Jack as your balance point.  “I think we need to go shopping too. I’ll get you some other clothes for my idea.” you step off the last stone and realize Jack was raising his other arm - mirroring your balancing act.  You sigh a relieved, happy breath, feeling so blessed that somehow Jack was brought into your life.  “You’re my best friend Jack.” you smile, “I can’t imagine my life without you.” and of course he is unabashed.

 “Well you’ve been with me my entire life.” he says, “So I actually cannot imagine it without you either.”

 You smile to yourself and walk quietly the rest of the way until you reach the coffee shop.

 “Here it is...” you gulp softly before opening the glass door to walk through, “Coffee.”  Jack walks through with you and steps to the side of the door as some people behind you try to escape the cool weather. He looks at you as you continue to stand there by the entrance and follows your gaze to the front counter.  “Yeah, it’s just coffee.” you nod toward the counter, “No big deal. Let’s just go get the ...coffee.” you rub your hands together, realizing they’re colder and at some point you must have dropped Jack’s hand.  “Does she have the coffee?” Jack looks from you to the girl at the counter, “I don’t understand, why do you keep staring at her?”

 “SSHHH-shhut up.” you hiss, “Just follow me, Jack.” you walk up to the counter just as someone finishes their order.

 Her hair frames her face like a picture. Her eyes are piercing yet soft. She reminds you of someone, soft and bold simultaneously. She’s writing something down on a notepad by the register and her free hand tucks her hair behind her ear. You can just imagine taking her photo in a field of daisies.

 You shudder yourself out of your imagination. Whaaat. You shake your head and feel Jack’s presence hovering to your side. Stop being so..hover-y. You tap your fingers on the counter, unintentionally making the girl look up at you.

 “Sorry, just a moment.” she says quickly as she scribbles more rapidly.

 “No! That wasn’t- I don’t mind waiting for you.” You shove your hand in your pocket, “Actually that sounded condescending haha..” you chuckle nervously.  “I just had a song stuck in my head.” you cover up with a shrug as you rock back and forth on your heels.  She places the pen down with a clack! and smiles at you tiredly, “How can I help you?”   “Looks like you need a coffee.” you chuckle again, feeling cheesy as hell.  “Yeah, I wish.” she rolls her eyes, fluttering her lashes like a butterfly.  “Well, can I order you one?” you ask sheepishly.  Without missing a beat she smiles and gives a little laugh, “Nah, thanks. I get them for free, I just have to wait for my break.” She subconsciously glances over at the clock on the wall.  “Oh, cool.” you say lamely and lean on one leg to stop yourself from rocking compulsively.

 Her hair shimmers as it blows strands around her face. Jack turns around to see someone walked through the door and queued up in line behind you.  “So...what can I get you?” She asks, pulling you away from images of wind blowing through her hair as you ride a bike together or a sailboat or a convertible.  “Right.” A blush creeps up your neck and you place a five dollar bill on the counter, “Just a hot coffee, to go.”  “Coming right up!” she takes the cash and clacks on her register, making a little song of bells as she gathers your change.  You start to walk away and say over your shoulder, “Keep it!” and hide behind the receiving counter with Jack.

 “So you like her?” Jack asks in what was probably a normal voice, but sounded to you like he was speaking through a megaphone.  “SHHH!” you punch him in the chest and look over his shoulder to make sure she didn’t hear him. She was taking the order of the next customer, oblivious to your tiny crisis.  “I...I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about her. Sometimes.” you fumble through your words, unsure of what you want to tell Jack.  “I think you either like her or want to take pictures of her, right?” he asks, making you stare at him dumbfounded for a few moments.  “Don’t say it like that, it sounds creepy.” you gape at him feeling like he hit the nail on the head.  “I don’t know, maybe both?” you say and peek over the counter, watching as she goes back to scribbling on her pad.

 She glances up and you avert your eyes, pretending to inspect a printed painting on the wall with much interest.  Jack looks from you to the girl behind the counter to the painting in confusion. “Why are you looking at this picture?” he asks.  “I’m not.” you say through clenched teeth.  Jack furrows his brows in distress and looks closer at you and makes sure that you are, indeed looking at the painting.  “It looks as though you are looking at the picture.” he says with a strained voice and you groan, a tiny bit annoyed at his constant narration of your situation.

 You peek out of the corner of your eye at the counter and she’s back to writing on her notepad. You release a tight breath and turn to stick a finger into Jack’s chest.

 “It’s complicated!” you say assuredly, as though that was that.

 A barista saved you as he calls out, “Y/N?” at the receiving counter and places a paper cup down in front of you. You snatch it up and walk to an inconspicuous corner table with a couple of armchairs. You plant yourself down, motioning for Jack to join you in the chair next to you.

 “Oh shoot, sorry Jack. Did you want something?” you ask snapping out of your haze, “Sorry I’ve been so focused...” you trail off as he stares at you wordlessly, “on coffee...” you finish and you can hear your inner monologue rolling her eyes and saying Yeah, on coffee.

 “Yes, I’ll go get a drink.” he says and stands up suddenly.

 You shrug as he walks away and try to hide behind your paper cup unsuccessfully as you watch her again. This isn’t creepy at all. You think to yourself. I’m just sitting here drinking this cup of coffee I ordered. You nod to yourself in agreement. Because the coffee at home was burnt. You concluded. Yes, there was no other choice. Well it wasn’t that bad, and you probably could have made another cup, but you quickly shut your inner thoughts up. No, that’s not the point. I didn’t have time to make another pot. Well, maybe you had time. Then, I just didn’t feel like it. Yeah, I’m lazy. You satisfy yourself with a reason to come here and spend $5 on probably 20 cents worth of brewed beans.

 Wait... you see Jack gesturing with his hands. What is he doing? You watch the girl laugh and nod her head. WhaT IS HE SAYING?? You grip your coffee cup until it bends into the shape of your grasp.  He points to your corner and your heart stops. You aren’t sure if you should sink into the floor or seem super cool like you don’t notice them at all.  She looks over at your table and you decide to smile and wave sheepishly. She nods and Jack walks back to you.

 “What. The. Frack.” Your eyes widen at Jack as he casually sits down.

  He smiles at you and folds his hands in his lap.

 “Umm... WHat dID YOu SAy.” you ask in a very broken and raspy voice.

 “I said I’m not sure what drink I want. She told me she usually gets a plain hot coffee and I said that’s what you got too. Then she said you’re in here all of the time but she’s never seen me. I told her you took me out here to take pictures for a class and she said she would love to see how the pictures turn out, and she said she can bring my coffee over to our table.” He recounted to you.

 Your jaw was slack as you processed the entire conversation.

 What does that mean? Does she like me? Does she like Jack? Is she going to come kick us out and tell me to stop stalking her? Am I way overthinking this and she was just having polite conversation and is just going to bring Jack’s coffee to us?

 Your mind races a mile a minute.

 You close your mouth and look at Jack in utter amazement. He looks quite pleased with himself. 

 “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.” You slam back in the leathery chair and lift the cup to your face with mixed emotions. Secret joy? Anger? Flurries?

 You lift the cup all the way over your face, but nothing comes out. Damn.

 “What was the point of taking it to go if you drank the entire cup here?” Jack asks pointedly.

 “I know. I don’t need you bringing your logic into this.” You grumble.

 You watch her walk up with another steaming paper cup and you sit up straighter in the chair.

 “Hey Y/N!” she says and you blink in surprise that she knows your name.

 “So Jack here tells me you are a photographer?” She smiles as she hands the cup to Jack.

 “Oh, I’m just taking a class.” You glance down at your lap.

 “That’s really cool! I wish I could do something other than make a coffee.” She groans.

 “That’s really important!” you pep up in your seat, making her giggle.

 “What are you doing on that notepad?” Jack asks out of seemingly nowhere.

 “Oh,” she brings her hand to her cheek, partially covering her face in embarrassment, “That’s just some story writing ideas.” she says.

 “Woah.” Escapes your lips without warning, “I just assumed you were writing down orders or something.” You look at Jack in surprise, impressed that he noticed such a thing.

 “You draw too, right?” he asks, taking her by surprise just as much.

 “I ...doodle. Sometimes it helps me with the writing ideas.” she says.

 “That’s so cool.” you breath.

 She waves a hand dismissively, “You don’t even know what it looks like, it’s garbage.”

 “Don’t say that. Even if you’re drawing just for yourself, it’s brave of you to express yourself that way.” you spew out of your mouth without any control whatsoever.

 For a moment she looks at you in wonder, but a bell at the front door brings her attention back to her job. “Hey, do you want a refill? On me.” she winks.

 “Sure.” you nod automatically.

 She takes a look at your paper cup, crushed under your grip of stress, “Um.. I’ll get you a new one.” she turns to walk away and you stare as she floats away.

 “You’re doing that thing Dean does when a woman walks away.” Jack points out, and you throw the empty paper cup at him.

 “I can’t believe I actually talked to her.” You make circles in the worn leather arm of the chair with your forefinger.

 “That was a nice conversation.” Jack says, and although it’s impossible for him you are pretty sure you sense a tinge of smug in his words.

 Jack happily sips his coffee.

 “I am going to think of ways to torture you. Once I figure out what in this world embarrasses you.” You vow at him, narrowing your eyes at his innocent smile.

 You get up and stretch, feeling a crackle run through your back. “Okay cupid, let’s go.” you yawn.

 As you start toward the door you hear, “Hey, wait!” behind you and turn around. “Here you go.” the girl hands you a cup of coffee and your fingertips ever so slightly brush the inside of her wrist by accident. You want to pull her in and hold her, but instead grab the coffee.

 “Thanks.” you say weakly and she runs back to her counter.

 Once you get outside and walk back toward the bunker you turn the cup around in your hands.

 It says, ‘Look at me, being brave!’ with a little caricature of herself winking underneath. You attempt to suppress a smile as you hold the hot cup closer to your core, warming you in the windy morning.

 You walk into your makeshift dark room and pull the photos off the hanging clips. As you stack them together you run your fingers along the edges to make sure they are neatly fitted into one rectangle.

 You push through the heavy curtains and turn off the dark light switch. Absentmindedly you walk out to the hallway and stare at the top photo. It’s one of Jack looking directly at the camera, making you feel like he is staring right into you. Knowing all of your secrets.

 You see him sitting at a table quietly reading and walk up behind him. 

“Let’s take a look at those photos.” You sit down next to Jack and spread the glossy rectangles all over the table.

 You run your finger along them as you inspect each one and your finger halts on one of Jack eating a candy bar. 

 “It’s so colorful.” Jack muses.

 “Yes, I know exactly what I want for the second picture. We’ll use a black and white filter.” you picture it in your head, hoping it will turn out the same in reality.

 “This is coming along nicely.” You turn to Jack and run your hand along his stubble, scratching you pleasantly. His lips are red front from the cold walks you’ve been taking together and you think to yourself you should get Sam to buy some chapstick.

 “Did you want to finish talking about sexuality?” Jack says, stumping you in your thoughts. You immediately withdraw your hand from his face and cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

 “You have a way with timing, Jack.” you snicker.

 “Welp.” you exhale, as ready as ever to talk.

 “That girl, from the coffee shop. I just keep thinking about...her...about us.” You say, pausing to gather your sentences.

 “Us?” Jack asks, tilting his head.

 “Her and I... going away together.” you smile meekly.

 Jack’s face drops, but you don’t notice as you are fiddling with your fingers, making them knot and unknot one another.

 “I want to touch her, and hold her, and kiss her in my arms. And every time I see her my mind goes blank and I don’t even know how to ask her name.” you say.

 “Why don’t you start with her name tag?” a voice says on the other side of the room, making ice water run through your veins.

 You spin around in your chair and see Dean had walked in at some point in your conversation and was casually adding his two cents as though this wasn’t the most private conversation of your entire life happening right now.

 You feel yourself burning and the muscles in your throat swell up, so the only think you could think to do is push out of the chair and run full speed out of the room into hiding.

 “What?” Dean throws his arms in the air, bewildered at your reaction, “What did I do?” he turns to Jack who is pressing his eyebrows together, concerned but not sure what to do.

 “I don’t think you were supposed to hear that.” Jack says further knotting his eyebrows together. He hates to see you in pain, and he could tell that whatever just happened hurt you very much.

 “What’s the big deal? Who cares if she likes a girl?” he rolls his eyes and drops his arms to his sides dramatically.

 “She cares. And if she cares that’s all that matters.” he says, and gets up to look for you.

 Dean sighs in defeat and is left frowning with guilt in Jack’s wake.

 You can’t believe he was so callous as to butt in and completely destroy your privacy like that. You just barely figured yourself out, and now Dean is involved. You’re not ready to talk to the guys about this..well the other guys anyway. What if you just like this girl? What if you don’t even like her, but you just think she’s really amazing and admire her and don’t know what other feeling to put to it other than romantic ones? What is Dean thinking about it right now? It’s not even any of his business. What the crap.

 Tears are hot running down your face, as though your internal temperature was blasted through the roof and your tears were just water boiling over. You bring your knees to your chest and lay your wet face into the fabric of your clothes, blacking out everything from your sight. What does this mean now that it’s out there?

 An arm lays around your shoulders and you tense up at the touch until a voice says, “I’m sorry.”

 “Jack.” you sigh with relief and your body relaxes, “You didn’t do anything.”

 “I know, but I am sorry that Dean upset you. He didn’t know that he wasn’t supposed to hear that.”

 “Thanks, Jack. I guess I should’ve picked somewhere less likely to get walked in on...” you trail off, not really sure if you ever want to show your face to anyone again.

 He lays his head on top of your head and stay silent for a while. He probably isn’t sure what to say, but that works just fine for you, because being held in the darkness might be just what you wanted.

 After some time you raise your head up, coming face to face with Jack. You press your forehead into his and blink away the last of your tears.

 “You don’t have to be afraid, Y/N.” he says, and a smile spread across your face. “Thanks, Jack. With you I feel less afraid.”

 “I feel less afraid with you, too.” He says quietly. “I don’t want you to leave.” he says with a sadness.

 You open your eyes to look directly into his and search them for meaning. “Why would you think I’m leaving?” you ask and pull back so you can see his face more clearly.

 “You said you want to leave with the girl at the coffee shop. You said you want to take her away and go just the two of you.” He says with worry. “I just don’t know what life is like without you.”

 “Oh Jack.” you whisper, “I’m not going to leave you. Don’t you remember I said I can’t imagine my life without you? I don’t plan on ever imagining it either.” you reach for his hands and hold them against the sides of your cheeks.  “I might be nobody special, but at least I have you to worry for me.” you feel his warmth radiating against your skin and your heart opens wide for him.  “Why do you think you’re not special?” Jack asks solemnly. You remove his hands from your face but continue to hold them in your hands.  “Sweetie, not everybody was born to save the world. I’m not a Winchester, and I’m not Nephilim. I’m just a human, no stars aligned when I was born, and no demons came for me, and no angels wrote lore about my coming.” You almost feel a relief as you say it, although it was meant to be diminishing, “I’m just a girl. And nobody cares if I like other girls.” you say, realizing as you say it out loud that it’s kind of true. When you put it into perspective like that, it doesn’t seem like something to worry about after all.  “You know what? I feel kind of better.” You brace yourself against Jack’s shoulders to stand up, then offer him your arm, “Let’s go tell Dean off.”

 He takes your arm and stands up, following you down the hall with concern still somewhat radiating off of him.

 You approach the War Room and see two bodies standing by the table. The long trench coat turns around and Castiel looks apologetically to you.

 “He didn’t mean to walk in on your conversation.” He defends for Dean, as usual, attempting to excuse his rude behavior.

 “Are you KIDDING ME?” You ball up your fist and walk around Castiel to Dean, “You TOLD HIM?” You get right up in Dean’s face ready to give him a piece of your mind.

 “First of all, back off.” Dean says, putting a hand up in the small space between you two.

 “Haven’t you learned ANYTHING about privacy and not butting in to things that have nothing to do with you?” You fire up, pushing his hand out of the way.

 “No, I heard his mind. He wouldn’t stop feeling bad about it, over and over again.” Castiel attempts to calm you.

 “Hey, I’ve got it Professor X -” He waves away Castiel, “You know how nosy angels can be-” he puts a hand on your shoulder.

 You grind your jaw, unsure of if it really is his fault after all. You shove Dean’s hand off your shoulder, stomping toward the stairs.  Dean grabs your arm before you get away and his voice cracks, “Hey kid, really. I didn’t mean it -I-I’m sorry if I wasn’t supposed to hear that.” he says sincerely.  You unball your fist, but don’t turn to face him. You bite your lip and furrow your brow in confusion. Who am I really mad at here?  He pulls you into a hug. “For what it’s worth, nothing matters to me as long as you don’t have those black eyes, okay?” he pats you on the back in that lovingly awkward big brother Dean kind of way.  You inhale deeply and exhale just as hard, giving in to his apology. “Okay.” you begrudgingly say just loud enough that he can hear.  “I mean it, kid.” he says as he kisses the top of your head and lets you go. “Now go catch that coffee girl.” he waves his arm like a lasso.

 “No Dean, too soon.” You shake your head and walk toward the hatch.

 When you get outside Jack sprints up to your side, and you release the flood gates of complaints.  “It’s just that I don’t know who I want to know, you know?” you scratch your head.  “I mean...this is a part of me, I kind of think it always has been...deep down anyway. But I don’t need other people telling me their opinions when I don’t even know...” you trail off, feeling mixed emotions of acceptance and frustration.  “I think this is who I am, and it doesn’t even mean that much, but it means a lot to ME you know?” you grind your teeth left and right trying to figure out why you’re spouting all of this.  “I’m glad Dean... I mean... What if he didn’t feel the way he does?” you inhale sharply through your nose to stop flooding emotions.

 “But he does feel the way he does, not a different way.” Jack tries to connect for you, making lines in the air with his eyes.  “What if...other people don’t feel the same as he does?” you ask hesitantly.  “Everyone feels differently. Everyone has their own feelings, right?” Jack asks, making your real worry bubble up without warning.  Your heart starts beating faster, quickening your breath as well, “But, I don’t have very many people in my life, Jack. What if I lose one of the few people in my life because they don’t want to be around me anymore?” you feel your hands start shaking and Jack looks frantically at you.  “Why wouldn’t someone want to be around you? Because of someone that you like? Why would anybody want to leave you because of someone else that makes you happy?” he grabs your hands the way you always grab his when you’re nervous. You’re not sure if he’s trying to calm you down or calm himself down.  “Why, indeed?” you say, blinking away hot wetness in your eyes.  “Y/N, if you aren’t hurting anybody, and someone doesn’t want you to be happy...do you want them in your life anyway?” he asks so simply.  You stop breathing, stop shaking, and stop thinking altogether.

 “That’s a great point...” you say to the floor.

 “If this hurts you so much now, they will hurt you over and over again.” Jack squeezes your hands and searches your face for any sign that he’s helped ease your pain.

 “Jack...” your lip trembles and you thrust yourself into his arms, crying unstoppably.

 “Y/N, did I say it wrong?” he asks tenderly.

 “No Jack- they’re good tears.” you sob out, hoping he understands the words. You are just so happy to have someone who so unconditionally loves you and shows you warmth and kindness in this world of monsters both human and inhuman.

 You squeeze him with all of your might and wipe your face vigorously on his jacket, giggling a little bit as a heavy weight was lifted from your soul.

 You feel light and a little bit dizzy, and you want to stop making Jack worry.

 “Let’s go shopping for your picture.” 

 Several outfit changes later you decided on some torn jeans, a rock and roll tank top, and leather jacket. It’s like a Jack from another universe - it’s perfect. You decided to take some pictures by the Men of Letters motorcycle in the bunker garage. It’s got that edge to balance the playful atmosphere of the first photo.

 You played around with his hair for over an hour deciding which tools and what product gets the exact messy finish you want. The opposite of his usual smooth and soft wave, no hair ever out of place. It’s still the same, but rougher. Like he was riding at the beach all day long - hair all over the place and wavy like the wind instead of perfect waves like the ocean.

 “Okay, this is it.” you pat him on the shoulders, deciding it’s now or never. Otherwise you could play dress up Jack all day long, and never stop enjoying yourself.

 He looks rather rugged...

 You feel something not sure you’ve ever felt from Jack before. It’s not an a friendly love, or an admiration. That scruffy look...is giving you some lustful ideas.

 “Ahem.” you clear your throat, especially as you pass by Castiel on your way to the garage. Is that damned angel there every time I have extremely uncomfortable thoughts, or what??

 You direct Jack again, where to look, how to sit, what to do with his arms.

 You try getting him sitting on the motorcycle, but he looks too stiff and unsure. Not as cool as you expected. You give up the motorcycle as a prop and use it as the background drop instead.  You sit Jack in front of the bike and ask him to lean against the wall. He is tired, you can tell, probably from the emotional hoops he’s been jumping through all day for you. Probably all week.  “Relax. Just look at me and loosen all of your muscles.” the shutter snaps away and echoes through the tall ceilings of the garage.  He is so flawless. You decide it was the right decision to have him as your case study. It doesn’t matter if he is smiling childishly about chocolate, or if he is staring emotionlessly into your camera lens, he is stunning.

 You release a heavy breath and rub your eyes with the back of your hand, “Well, that’s it. Now we wait for the photos to develop!” you stand up, feeling tense and sore from all of the weird angles.  “Did I help?” Jack asks innocently, always eager to please. You smile and nod happily, “Yes, you helped.”

 He hops up and smiles ecstatically, winning some internal award in his head.

 As you go to pull the film and measure the chemicals in your dark room again Jack says he is going to get ready to go to bed. I guess he actually needs to sleep tonight. You think to yourself after all you’ve put him through, physically and emotionally.

 You think about the girl from the coffee shop, perfect in her own ways. Beckoning to your savior side to take her away from her small town and have adventures around the world with her.  But that’s not who you are. What if you do ask her out? Will you reveal to her that you are a hunter? Will you put her in danger by showing her this side of your life? Or will you hide it from her - even if you become seriously engaged? That’s not the kind of relationship you want... but you also don’t want to have a fling with her like one of Dean’s floozies.  You sigh mournfully. No, not floozies. You don’t blame Dean for never getting close to anybody. Other than your little makeshift family that is... it must be hard on him... but of course it’s always harder falling in love and trying to keep a ‘normal’ relationship, huh?  You shake the liquids off of the photos watching them magically develop from a blank piece of glossy paper into a work of art. Amazing.

 Like you told Jack anyway, you’re not leaving. So what can you offer her in this town anyway?

 You decide to leave the coffee girl as a chapter in your life that helped you discover more about yourself. You put away your daydream and leave the dark room to go to bed.

 Breakfast the next morning couldn’t come soon enough. You tossed and turned all night, unable to get up while also failing to absorb any actual rest.

 “Hit me, Sammy.” you grunt in a raspy voice as you clang down your favorite coffee mug on the table.

 Sam pours the elixir into the mug and raises his eyebrows as Dean walks through the doorway, “That’s my mug.” Dean grumbles, but one stern look from you swerves him toward the shelves to find himself another mug.

 “I know, it tastes better when I know I took it from you.” You scratch the back of your head and yawn before taking that first perfect sip.

 “Good morning.” Jack and Castiel say in unison as they both show up at the table. You glance at Jack, slightly disappointed to see him back in his regular style. Not that it is particularly unpleasant, just having gotten a taste of Hot Jack was very curious and he’s already gone and washed his hair and shaved his face. Guess you didn’t sleep much last night after all.

 Castiel sits across from you and you turn away, ignoring the puzzled look he gives you.

 Dean sits down and slurps his coffee as he catches your eye. He points at tilts his head toward Sam as if to ask if you’ve told him yet.

 No. You shake your head at him groggily, not that you’re not ready. Just tired.

 Dean reads you loud and clear and nods equally groggily.

 Sam sets food down in front of everybody and we all quietly pick up our utensils. All quietly, except for Cas, who out of the blue asks, “Why are you so sure that you like that girl?” he directs to you.

 Dean chokes on his coffee, Jack turns to you expecting to see a glare or signs of reaching out to choke Castiel, and Sam’s spatula freezes mid-scoop.

 “Good job, Cas.” you say and turn to Sam, “Yeah, I like girls.” you casually shove your fork into your mouth and since everyone was looking at you add, “Enjoy your eggs everyone.”

 Everyone turns their heads to their plates except for Castiel, who presses onward, “I just don’t understand-”

 Dean puts a hand up and interjects, “You don’t need to understand the dynamics of lesbian romance Cas, and if you feel the need to learn I can direct you to some videos-”

 “Dean.” Sam shakes his head and Dean shrugs, but Cas looks ready to protest again. “It’s fine, Y/N. You like whoever you like.” Sam warmly smiles at you, “If you want to talk about it I’m here, not that it’s something to talk about...just-” he waves his spatula in the air before finishing, “you know.”

 “Smooth.” Dean nods and grins satisfactorily at Sam as he raises his mug to hide his smugness.

 Sam rolls his eyes and Cas continues, “It’s just that you already like Jack, don’t you?”

 Somebody’s knife screeches against the plate, making you squirm at the sound.

 “Well...” Sam defends, “You can like more than one person at a time.”

 Jack nods at Sam and says, “Y/N said there is more than just Straight and Gay.” then he turns to you and says, “Is that true?”

 You bore your eyes into your scrambled eggs as you feel everybody else’s eyes on you. “Do you mean...that there is more than one sexuality... or that I like you?” you gulp and can hear everybody turn back toward their food uncomfortably for the moment.

 “I mean.. sexuality is definitely a spectrum... and I just only accepted that I like girls, but I guess I didn’t think about what that means for how I feel about guys..” you twirl your fork through the contents of your plate as though somewhere hidden in there will be the answer you are looking for.

 “Wait a minute.. why do you even think that?” You ask Castiel defensively, pointing your fork toward him.

 “I didn’t think it was a secret.” Castiel tilts his head inquisitively at you, “Every time you walk past me you are thinking quite loudly about Jack. Usually about his physical attractiveness or how happy you are that he is in your life-”

 “STOP INTRUDING INTO PEOPLE’S THOUGHTS.” you shout over the table.

 “...” Castiel looks at Jack and looks back to you, “Like I said, you were thinking it quite loudly.”

 Dean clicks his tongue and winks at Jack, “He is quite an attractive boy.”

 You narrow your eyes at Dean who wiggles his eyebrows and gleefully shoves a piece of bacon into his mouth.

 You remind yourself to smash his mug so he can never enjoy its feeling in his hands again.

 “You make me happy too.” Jack says simply and continues eating breakfast.

 You raise your butter knife to point at each of the Winchesters and the Angel individually as you warn, “If anybody says so much as another word for the rest of breakfast I will find a way to shove this knife all the way inside of you until the handle isn’t reachable anymore.”

 Everybody nods and continues eating. Cas shrugs, Sam smiles nervously, Dean shakes with internal laughter, and Jack blinks obliviously.

 Hours later, after the utensils are safely put away and out of reach, Dean walks up behind you on the couch.  “I mean, Cas isn’t wrong. It is pretty obvious.” he says quietly to you, prompting you to snag the pillow next to you and bash him in the face with it. He jumps back and raises his arms defensively, but adds as a last note, “I mean, I thought you were already together when you were sneaking out of his room in the morning.”  You grab the remote and chuck it at Dean’s head but he grabs it mid-air and tosses it gently back at you before sprinting out of the room.

 You feel very conflicted.

 You’ve just spent a very long time accepting this new part of yourself. Well...it felt new. It was probably always a part of you if you think about it...but acknowledging it is new.

 So...what if you’re bi-sexual? It doesn’t matter any more than being straight or gay or asexual when you’re a hunter. Doesn’t it?

 Unless...you’re dating another hunter you guess.

 You decide to get the final pictures to put in your portfolio, even though you’ve been avoiding the outrageously gorgeous images of Jack all day.  Well..that doesn’t help the situation does it... or Does it? Doesn’t that mean that you do like Jack? I mean..the guy is part angel, of course he’s attractive. Doesn’t mean you’re in love with him.  Though you do love him. But ...like that? Also, you’ve met some unattractive angels. Haven’t you?

 You get to the dark room and pull the final prints to inspect and choose the winner.

 You go to your room and spread the prints across your bed. You hold up the picture you chose as phase 1 to compare to the phase 2 results. They’re all so beautiful. Maybe you are a master photographer after all.

 You close your eyes and point to one at random. He’s sitting on the motorcycle stiffly, with a deep wrinkle in his forehead as he tries to balance on the handlebars. You chuckle.  It’s partially covering one up and you pull it out to place it on top. You lay the first photo side by side.

 The contrast is perfect! Look at the color, the softness, the joy. And the darkness, the roughness, the loneliness.

 ...The loneliness in his eyes. Your heart aches. It clenches to see any bit of sadness in his eyes, especially next to such a bubbly photo full of pure joy.

 You sigh.

 You pick up the two photos and walk over to Jack’s room. You tap your knuckles on the door and crack it open to see Jack sitting against the headboard again.

 “I think these are the winners.” You raise up the photos in front of yourself and he smiles at them.

 “You’re really cool! I look so different.” He says with an approving nod.

 “Great.” You tuck them under your arm to put in your portfolio in a moment.

 “Thanks Jack.” You look around his room, “Thanks for helping.” You put a hand in your pocket and turn around to go back to your room.

 “Hey Y/N,” Jack stops you and you look back at him, “Could we actually go for another walk tonight?”

 “Sure, Jack.” you smile.

 By some anomaly today is a warm night. After many cold nights in a row, you’re able to ditch the jacket at home and enjoy a starlit walk without shivers.

 You walk side by side, Jack leading the walk tonight through a path of trees. You follow silently, until Jack breaks the sounds of crunching leaves. “Y/N, I’ve been thinking about what you said.”  Your eyes widen and you decide to keep your mouth shut and hear him out before deciding to say anything.  “You said you are nobody special, and I haven’t had the chance to talk to you about that.” he says with a tinge of pain.  Oh. You feel half relief and half discomfort. “I may have been born Nephilim,” Jack says tactfully, “You have been born human. But being Nephilim is what makes me special.” He stops at a treeless patch at a ridge where a blanket is tucked between some rocks. He spreads out the blanket and sits down, looking to you as a signal to sit as well.  When you sit down he continues, “You are human. Which means everything about you is special.” He looks up at the sky.  “You chose to hunt. To protect other people. You chose to give up your regular life so other people can continue to life normally.”  “What other choice did I have once I knew the truth?” You interject.  “Anything. You could have ignored it - avoided it - chosen not to put yourself in danger anyway. We’ve met plenty of people who’ve done just that.” he retorts, and you guess he has a valid point.  “That you feel you did not have another choice doesn’t mean that you didn’t, it means that you care so much for the protection of this world that it didn’t seem like there was any other choice to you.”  He sees goosebumps run up your arms and decides to take his shirt off. You lean away from him and shriek, “What are you doing?”  He hands his t-shirt to you, “You’re cold, take my shirt.” and waits for you to accept his offer.  You are bewildered. You glance at his body, smaller than the Winchesters, but sculpted nonetheless. You feel yourself getting warm and protest, “Won’t you get cold?”  “No, I run a little bit warmer than you.” he says with a finality.  It’s true that he is always warm and you often reach for him on those chilly walks because he radiates heat.  “O-Okay..” you take his shirt and pull your arms and head through the holes, embarrassed to say that the reason you got goosebumps were because of his words, not the warm night air.

 “Look, there’s Orion..” you point at the constellation in the sky, the easiest to spot in your opinion. You lean back on the blanket, inspecting the bright lights in the black endless expanse.

 Jack leans back along with you. “You know, this was all made for you.” he says to you, “My Grandfather made this all for you.”  While you are taken by surprise, you attempt to correct, “You mean all people right?”  He shakes his head, “Not the way you think of it... I’ve heard some of your thoughts -” he stops and apologizes, “Sorry, I know you don’t like that. Sometimes I just hear them when I’m not thinking about anything.” You don’t say anything or push him in frustration, so he continues, “It’s not meant for all of humanity as a group. It’s meant for each individual person as an independent observer.”  He turns to face you, “That’s why you don’t have angel radio, you’re not meant to think together. You’re meant to experience everything as one person with your own experience.” He watches as you look up at the stars.  “So it is meant for you. You, Y/N.” the sincerity in his voice makes you turn to face him and you see his eyes sparkling in the night’s light.  “What you see is the most important part of the universe. What you see will only happen once in all of time, and you’re the only one who will see it ever again.” He searches your face as you stare deeply into his eyes, watching them move across your face in measured movements.  “You can see it any time you want, over and over again in your head, but no other human can. You’re special because you are the only you that will see what you see, make the choices that you make, or even make decisions the way that you do. No other person thinks like you, and that makes me glad, because I like the way that you think. And I know by being with you, I can see the way you think every day, and you surprise me every day when you make a new decision even though I thought you would do something else. No matter how much I think I know you, I still can’t predict you. I just have to be here with you and watch ....you happen.”

 You stare at one another for a long time, not knowing exactly how long since the night time feels like one large infinite moment.

 Any time you’re with Jack it feels like one large infinite moment. And he’s right, as much as you know him, he still takes you by surprise. And apparently, as much as you know yourself, you still have learning to do about what you will decide.

 You prop up on your elbows and look from him to the sky, deciding that it’s not possible to know anything at all. Except that you’re here, and he’s here, and you’re both together right now. 

 “Jack, how do you know who you’re supposed to love?” you ask.

 He props up on his elbows and looks at you indecisively.

 “I’m not sure��� He looks at the darkness ahead and back to you, “but I don’t think there is an exact person we are supposed to love.”

 “I think I know, Jack.” You say, and lean against his chest, absorbing his warmth in the glowing night.

[fangirlingtodeath513]

memories can hurt or heal

rated teen and up, 1.6k

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Today is definitely one of those classic fall days. It’s dark and rainy and just this side of cold. Of course it’s a Saturday, so Dean doesn’t even have work to distract him. His mind inevitably wanders to Cas, and then to the box of memories he still hasn’t unpacked that’s currently sitting on the top shelf of his closet. He’d moved into this three-bedroom house months ago. Everything had been unpacked within a week of moving in, but the one box that sat on the top shelf of his closet has been left untouched since he’d put it there three days after moving in. Because, truth be told, some of the memories in there are pretty bittersweet. Days like today, though… they’re the days he gets the itch under his skin to drag the box down from the closet and reminisce. He knows there’s a ton of pictures of them, and a few things from various dates and milestones in their relationship. Most of the time he’s able to brush the thought away easily, but there’s just something about today. He waffles with the thought for a while; he makes himself some breakfast, catches up on the news on his phone, and takes a long, hot bath.

He’s staring into his closet trying to decide what to wear when his eyes wander to the box on his top shelf. He ends up pulling on one of his softer Henleys and a pair of worn sweatpants before pulling the box down and setting it on the hardwood floor. He takes a seat in front of it, smiling softly to himself as he pulls the lid off and sets it aside. Right on top is the picture of him and Cas from graduation. Dean’s mother had taken it just after the ceremony, as evidenced by the fact that their tassels are on the left. It’s one of his favorite pictures of them. The day itself had been insanely stressful, but having Cas right there with him, and both of their families there to celebrate their graduation had been amazing. He brushes a thumb over the picture before picking it up and setting it on the lid gently. Next on the pile are their tickets from the Kaleo concert they’d taken a road trip to shortly after graduation. They’d gone back to Kansas with their families and driven all the way to LA for the concert. The road trip itself was probably more fun than the concert, if he’s being honest with himself, and he can’t wait to find the polaroids from the car trip. With the tickets set aside, he digs his cap and gown out to get them out of the way. He sees the corner of one of the car trip polaroids on the very bottom on the box, but he forces himself to go through the rest and end on some of the best memories. The assortment of Broadway playbills is next. Cas had gone through a phase in high school where he was super into Broadway shows and Dean, being the excellent best friend he was, had accompanied him to thirteen over the course of their four years in high school. He smiles to himself as he flips through them, remembering the shows fondly before setting the playbills aside. Next up is the stack of photos spanning high school and college. It’s not a huge amount, since most of the photos are stored on his laptop, but it’s pretty sizable. The top of the stack are pictures from their college commencement ball. Not that he’s ever had a problem admitting it, but damn does Cas look good in a tux. He flips through the pictures slowly, letting his memories of the night be tugged to the surface. He’s still in contact with most of his college friends, but it’s been a while since they’ve gotten together… He makes a mental note to give Charlie a call later before flipping to the next picture. This one’s him and Cas at the homecoming football game their senior year. He’s got blue and gold paint on his cheeks, and Cas has one of the school jerseys on. In the picture, Dean’s forehead is against Cas’s cheek, and both of them are sporting matching grins. He stares at the picture for a moment before setting it on the other side of him, away from the rest of the photos with the intent to put it somewhere visible. The next few pictures are ones taken throughout college. They’re mostly him and Cas, with a few of their mutual friends scattered throughout. He’s always got this look when he’s staring at Cas in pictures. Charlie called it his “heart eyes stare” all throughout college, Castiel had gotten a kick out of that. The next set of pictures are ones from their senior prom in high school. They’ve got ties matching their eye color, green for Dean and blue for Cas, and matching boutonnieres, a small red tulip for each of them. Neither of their parents had been surprised when he’d asked Cas to prom. His mother said she’d been waiting a long time to see who’d make the first move, and Cas’s father had agreed. Even Dean’s dad, who he was sure would be angry about his son being attracted to men was okay with it. He and Cas, though? Neither of them had any idea that the other had similar feelings until Dean had made the first move a few months before their high school graduation. Though, in hindsight, the signs were all there. The next pictures are ones from high school. Cas in the stands cheering during Dean’s soccer games, and Dean in the stands cheering during Cas’s baseball games. A few of them at various school events, and even a few of the time Dean and Cas had manned the kissing booth at the cheerleading fundraiser. He shakes his head at the memory, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reaches the last picture, one of them on their first day of high school. He shakes his head at the oversized sweater Cas has on, smiling fondly. He sets the final picture aside, pulling a photo album from the box and setting it aside to look at later. He grabs an assortment of tickets, ones from all their high school games, setting them aside before grabbing the stack of polariods from the bottom of the box. These are probably his fondest memories of his and Cas’s relationship, if he’s being honest with himself. At the same time, they’re also the worst. Cas had gotten the tickets for them as a graduation present. The concert was a week and a half after graduation, so they’d agreed to take a long road trip through the western US, stopping at a few different landmarks before ending up at their hotel in LA a couple days before the concert. The car trip had been great, the concert had been incredible, but that night at the hotel? Probably one of the worst nights of his life. He flips through the polariods slowly, sighing heavily. Cas had gotten a job in New York City, and he’d chosen to tell Dean when they got back to their hotel at midnight. Dean had already secured a job in Lebanon, the same place he’d interned with the summer before senior year. Castiel had left the following week, and Dean had been fuming. They’d nearly had a screaming match in the middle of the airport just before Cas caught his plane. The sound of footsteps behind him tugs him out of the spiral of bad memories. “You’re back from your run early.” he says softly, smiling and grabbing the photo album he’d set aside. There’s a low, gravelly chuckle behind him. “I am. Reminiscing, are you?” He hums and nods, turning to glance at the man behind him. “Yep. It’s the only box we haven’t unpacked.” Cas smiles and steps closer, motioning for Dean to move over. Dean wrinkles his nose but complies, shifting over and resting the photo album on both their laps once Cas sits. Castiel cocks an eyebrow at him, smiling. “Our wedding album?” Dean smiles, bumping his shoulder against his husband’s and flipping through the pages. Castiel shifts after a few pages, his head dropping to rest on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m still mad at you for not telling me earlier.” Dean murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Cas’s head. Castiel chuckles, resting his hand on Dean’s thigh. The silver band on his left hand sparkles in the early morning sunlight, and Dean can’t help but be ridiculously proud that the man sitting next to him is his husband. He closes the photo album, setting it aside and wrapping an arm around Cas’s waist. “I’m glad we got through it. I hated fighting with you like that.” Castiel hums, pressing a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips. “I did as well, though you were incredibly hot when you were mad like that.” Cas has the audacity to smirk at him, and Dean finds himself shaking his head with a grin on his face. “Yeah, well, you’re hot all the time.” Castiel chuckles, a soft sound that warms Dean from the inside. “Well, since I’m back early, why don’t we both get a little exercise in and then grab a shower?” Cas’s eyes flick to the bed and barely a second passes before Dean’s on his feet, tugging Castiel to the bed. They may have had their ups and downs, but Dean’s glad for every single one of them.

tags: @gabesgoldwings @agentzreads