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deanbrainrotwritings · 3 months

Text

— CELEBRATION DAY

SUMMARY : cowboy Dean, that’s it! yeah, yeah, I’ve got a thing.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), blowjob (mentioned), handjob, unprotected p in v, angst, fluff

WORD COUNT : 5.9k

A/N : led zeppelin song title. omg, I wanna thank my big brothers for watching Supernatural when I was little. I never woulda met Dean’s gorgeous, galaxy freckled face, green-eyed sparkle sparkle, majestic body, honey hair, smirky, pillow lip prince—what was I saying? oh yeah, I love Dean, happy birthday to the man I’ve loved the longest 💗

Dean didn’t think the whole month of January could get any better.

Everyday Y/n left a gift for him somewhere around the bunker for him to find. It was like the Twelve Days of Christmas song, but so much better.

He was really pretty sure she was stealing most of them.

On the first day, a pin up style calendar, but instead of random women, it was her and all his favourite kinks and fetishes. If he could, he’d say he loved her in every language that exists. It’s the only way for him to show that he truly means it. At least he thinks so.

On the second day, he received seven different types of necklaces that she thought he’d look prettiest in, but one stood out. One that he’d offhandedly shown interest in when they were window shopping to walk off the effects of caffeine in her system. The love letter smelled of coffee and recounted the feelings she had watching him be so domestic.

On the third day, she gave him a Street Fighter arcade game perfect for his Dean Cave. He swore he’d beat her, but he didn’t have the heart to do so, and let her KO him (she already knew what he was doing).

On the fourth day, she got him a new, stainless steel watch. She attached a small love letter addressed to him, the last words were spoken by the Doctor: You waited long enough. Time and time again, with her by his side, he yearned for normalcy, a family, getting out. For some reason, an object that measured time symbolised their endless love, a promise that made him breathless.

On the fifth day, he was given seven different rings. The letter for this gift said something along the lines of: I need to practise proposing. And you didn’t say no, so this is going great. He chuckled at that. He’d never say no to her, especially not to marriage.

On the sixth, she gave him a porn magazine, starring : her. He found it in the library when she sent him to pick up a book for her. A magazine like one belonging to Playboy that drove him crazy every day that he remembered what was in it. And that tiny love letter she put inside… He hoped no one would put their hands on that one. It was for his eyes only.

On the seventh, a black 1962 corvette that she put together with the help of her older brother. To say Dean was impressed was an understatement, despite all those times he taught her how to put the Impala back together, he was both turned on and fascinated with her work. And obviously they, uh, christened it. Or whatever.

On the eighth, she surprised him with twelve books he’d intended to read for such a long time, but never got around to searching for them. Shane; Whiskey When We’re Dry; Lonesome Dove; Blood Meridian. Were some of the titles he recognised and he was more than thrilled to dive into them and relax completely as reality faded around him.

On the ninth, she gifted him a new cowboy outfit. She put that in the room where he kept all the costumes he wore. The material was more original, with amazing quality—aka, not cheap. A whole bunch of Hecho en Mexico tags that he’d ask her to read to him—in Spanish of course. For reasons. (And that love letter he found in the inner pocket also needed to be read in Spanish, too.)

On the tenth, he got to open a giant box of Scooby snacks. Here and there, there were a few of his other favourite snacks, but there were mostly Scooby snacks that he’d been munching on ever since.

The eleventh, the gift he received were seven different bracelets. According to the love letter, they were gifts to keep him bound to her only.

The twelfth, a brand new espresso machine. That was simply found by him in the kitchen, new, with an olive-green bow and a small lover letter. All that yummy coffee he gets to consume in the morning with her, trying it out together. Two coffee addicts in love. Nothing better.

The thirteenth, the gift was going to an amuent park together. They ate too many foods, went on all—if not most—of the rides, took a hundred photos, tried on the silly clothes, played the games—mini-golf, go-carts… He was exhausted as soon as they got inside the Impala. So, it was a last minute decision to stay at a nearby hotel for the night. It was the best sleep he had in ages.

The fourteenth, a large journal in multitudes of journaling styles detailing things she loved about him that particular day or something he did that made her smile. It was cheesy, but very beautiful. The care and attention to detail made Dean’s heart lurch in his chest. From the cute bullet journal style, to the more than accurate drawings of him, and sophisticated details about things he didn’t know about himself, his habits, or other things he did. It was a collection of her love for him, which somehow made any fears evaporate like steam in a shower.

The fifteenth, forty-five new sets of socks with cute and/or funny prints. And she was prepared with a new drawer for all of them to fit, rolled up perfectly like… well, whatever delicious meal she had planned just as he liked. Enchiladas. Yummy. And a new love letter shoved inside a sock to make him blush and smile boyishly.

For the sixteenth day, it was four cassette mixtapes of all the songs they listened to when they went on some of their most meaningful dates and that played in the most memorable, intimate moments of their lives. Now it made sense why she was thrilled to learn and watch him prepare the mixtape he made for Cas. (It was better afterwards when his skills and patience were more than noticed by her and she—anyway, it was hot sex.) As for the love letter, it was profoundly clear that she wanted to praise and show she recognised his expertise, intelligence, and skill (not that she hasn’t praised him for it before).

For the seventeenth day, he got a Katana. He didn’t need it, he didn’t even know he wanted it until he held it in his hands and unsheathed it. God, that was awesome. Of course he’d probably almost accidentally hurt himself playing around with it, using it unnecessarily in the kitchen—just as an example.

For the eighteenth day, a sex position book with over 300 sex positions to try. It almost offended him, but after looking through a few pages, he was convinced that she was right and they needed to try some of the kinkier positions.

For the nineteenth day, she handed him a lengthy collection of mint condition Batman comic books. He was so not cool about that, gushing and grinning, holding her tightly until she pushed him away to breathe properly.

For the twentieth day, he received some new vinyl records of his favourite songs from his favourite bands to nearly complete his collection of music. And as always, he found a love letter relating to the gift she gave to him where she’d ‘hid’ the vinyls above his desk.

For the twenty-first: an old photo album filled with photos he’d never seen from his childhood and up to last year. Some he never even remembered living, but they did skip a few memories that made him smile sadly. She confessed she got Cas to take her back into the past to sneakily take pictures of him and everything he lived through. It was oddly… endearing. Then, she gave him an empty photo album, only their New Year’s kiss was placed inside a protective, plastic pocket. Ready to be filled by him, this time around.

For the twenty-second, a custom made Batman costume. The story for this one was that she made a deal with one of Charlie’s old LARPing friends: if she got rid of a ghost in his house, he’d make her the costume. And after that, she got one of the Dean’s from another universe to act as the model for the measurements Charlie’s old friend took to make the costume fit him perfectly. There were a few ideas Dean had regarding that costume, and he’s more than a hundred percent sure Y/n’s been thinking the same thing ever since he tried it on.

For the twenty-third, a twelve month pie subscription, obviously on National Pie Day. And he got to try the first one that day, rhubarb pie that made his mouth water as soon as the sticky insides made contact with his taste buds. How many times does he have to say he’s lucky in his mind?

And today, he had yet to find out.

He was spoiled.

Lavishing in her love for the past twenty-four days—more so than usual, soaking in it like the waffles he drowned in syrup for breakfast in the morning.

Right after his birthday blowjob as soon as he woke up.

He ate those soft, perfectly crunchy, warm waffles in bed while basking in the golden afterglow of his orgasm. Breathless and dazed, he didn’t worry about a single thing as he moved from one waffle to the next, eating his favourite fruits, jams, chocolate chips, maple syrup, honey… all the things she knew he loved indecisively.

And while she licked her lips clean of his cum, he licked his lips clean of whipped cream.

God, he was lucky.

She was awesome. More than awesome.

There were no words he could find to describe her.

The only problem with today was that he wasn’t gonna be the centre of just her attention. He could deal with that. He loved it, in fact. What he did not love was having to be the centre of attention with all his friends and family around.

He just felt… maybe… shy. Embarrassed? Old?

He wasn’t used to it. Not to that kind of attention from his friends, anyway. As much as they loved him and as much as he loved them. It was different. New.

He was anxious about it.

It was usually a phone call, a text, or nothing. He was fine with that. He didn’t really care. He was always hunting before. They were always busy with their hunts or their lives and birthday were always… whatever.

He was used to Y/n. To the way she loved him. Worshipped him, even. Daily. It was almost the same as any other day, except for the gifts—which were grand, more… thoughtful and loving. As if she lived in his brain and heart, digging through his wishes and dreams to find the perfect gift to make him feel special. Something that lasted, something to be used, something to be loved by him.

He was used to Sam. To the occasional, remorseless thieving of his little brother to get him what he thought he’d like. The singular, impactful gifts or the silly-joke gift he gave first to trick him into thinking it was something meaningless, thoughtless. The pat in the back, the hug, the pie, the childish decoration, the alcohol… a typical sibling birthday party meant to be laughed at.

He was getting used to Cas. To the overuse of emoticons in the birthday text. The awkwardness in the hug before it settled and became comfortable to do. The thoughtful gift he recieved, something Dean mentioned whenever they hung out—even if it was ridiculous. Cas could get it. He’s an angel. And the best friend Dean could ever ask for.

Jack… was, well, he’s Jack. He tried to copy Cas, Sam, Y/n. A mixture of all of the things they did, taking notes of what they were up to, finding something that was… him and not all of them. Dean’s heart softened and he cut Jack some slack, appreciating the effort, the thought he put into it, even if sometimes it was… bad.

But now, some of his closest friends would be making their way to him and he was just not prepared for all of that.

What he was prepared for, was his girlfriend’s skillful ability to make a larger-than-necessary Rice Krispies Treat cake just for him. She liked it as much as he did now, replacing the traditional birthday cake—she wasn’t much of a cake fan. But his stomach’s heart did love those tres-leches cakes.

Dean got dressed up as a cowboy as soon as Sam left to help Eileen prepare for the mini birthday party. He knew it did things to Y/n, even if she refused to admit it to him every time he brought it up or teased her about it.

He tried to cling to her the whole day.

He failed.

She was up to secret stuff.

He only got to be in her presence when she cooked or as she decorated the library where they’d later be embarrassing him with their loving attention. He helped her with all of that, of course—despite her protests. He’d hold her for a few minutes, kiss her a little bit, and then he’d follow behind her as if he couldn’t find anything better to do himself.

He watched her pull out game after game, after game, and set it down on different tables. Cards Against Humanity. Loteria. UNO. Bingo. A few other classics, some from his childhood. And she was texting Sam the whole time for the location of each game, where to set it, agreeing on some and putting others away.

Dean didn’t mind. As long as there was something that took most of the attention away from him and towards something else.

He played with the die from one of the games as he followed her around. His eyes traced over colourful candles, little horns to blow funny sounds out of, balloons, string, paper, confetti, banners, funny hats and glasses, and a dozen other items and decorations that made him feel like a kid again.

Dean liked to watch her, and she liked watching his reaction to whatever she pulled out of the plastic bags he remembered watching Sam and Jack coming in with a few days ago.

Dean was happy once she was done and finally resting from all the planning and tasks she was completing. She’d play with the buttons on his suit jacket by buttoning and unbuttoning them boredly as she took a break before heading off to the next activity.

After she made the cake, she made extra for both of them to snack on—even though she’d also given him a piece before she prepared the Rice Krispies treat. The two of them waited for their friends to get to the Bunker and ate the small slice while watching a random movie on the television.

Dean started to wonder what his brother would be getting him. Or Cas. Jack. Claire. Jody. Donna. Oh. He wanted to be sucked up into the couch, no, into Y/n’s soul. Just the thought of receiving a gift from everyone other than the people who currently lived in the Bunker made him flustered and embarrassed.

He had no doubts the gifts would be good. Still, there was something about gifts and birthday parties that made him… uncomfortable. As much as he loved each and every single one of them, as much as he secretly adored being loved.. it felt like asking too much, even if this was all their idea.

Even though he would do this and so much more for them.

Dean didn’t know they were up to this until last week when Sam randomly brought it up. Y/n jumped on board immediately, then Jack did, and Cas. Jack and Cas were in charge of buying the snacks, which Dean appreciated because Sam tended to get distracted and would forget to buy some of the most important items—according to Dean, of course. The pie, being the main item.

Dean realised that neither he nor she were really paying attention to the movie. Their plates laid abandoned on the table next to the green leather couch they sat on. The cowboy hat was abandoned on Dean’s bed. She was tucked into the corner with one leg propped up in it with the other dangling over the edge. Dean settled on his back in between her legs with his head on her shoulder.

That was just the first step in seducing her.

He wondered if he’d get more lottery tickets from everyone. If they’d bring some of the funniest, endearing birthday cards where they had to change the main title to for his age because he had the taste of a kid. He hoped they wouldn’t do something illegal like he knew Y/n and Sam were doing to make this the best birthday party for him. (Though, Dean was generally feeling pretty smug about their naughtiness.)

He wouldn’t mind repeated gifts at all, as in… if Claire wanted to go mini-golfing with him and gave him another ticket… or if Jack simply wanted to try fishing with him again. He’d love that. To spend time with them. The people he cared most about.

He played with her slim fingers, traced her knuckles, and teased the soft skin of her arms with his fingertips when she slipped them around his waist. He lifted her hands up to his lips, worshipping one thoroughly with his lips, warming them up for her.

Her other hand rested over his chest where his heart was beating rapidly at the thought of what he wanted. Her hand laid still for a few seconds before she began to play with the buttons of his white dress shirt, then tapped her mossy-green nails against the ovaloid metal buckle of his belt.

He dropped her hand gingerly to let her play with his clothes using both of her hands and he took to tracing her legs with his fingers over thick, warm pyjamas. He could feel her body release the tension of her stress, and for a moment, he smiled softly and felt his body do the same thing.

When he turned to look at her, she glanced away from his chest where she was gently scratching his shirt to make the funny sound of cloth being scraped. He kissed her when she smiled at him, one small peck, not entirely innocent.

The movie was long forgotten soon after that. Not that they were paying attention to it before anyway.

Dean scooted up slightly to kiss her properly with one hand on her jaw, his fingers entwined through her soft hair, bringing her plush lips closer to his. It was unhurried, lazy, the slow build from firm, deep kisses, to demanding, heated ones that caused a blush to flare up their faces.

Breathlessly, she began unbuttoning his shirt while he unbuckled his belt, but they continued kissing. His tongue slipped between her sweet lips, tasting more sweetness from the marshmallow and rice treat they ate not long ago.

She brought the white t-shirt up his chest—excruciatingly slow—when she fully unbuttoned his dress shirt. Her fingertips slipped up the soft flesh of his tummy, his toned and freckled chest, then she flattened her palm over his rapidly thudding heart. Leisurely, she smoothed her hand down his soft, slightly scarred skin, brushing past the fine, blonde hair trailing down beneath his belly button.

Dean moaned into her mouth and impatiently lifted his hips from the couch. She snuck her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and curled her fingers around the base of his hardening length. Dean gasped against her kiss-swollen lips and closed his eyes tightly, promptly rolling his hips to push his cock through her fingers.

“You look so hot like this,” she whispered against the corner of his lips. Dean squirmed and spread his legs when he planted his feet flat on the floor to aid each of his thrusts. Gently, she placed her other hand around his neck to tip his head back and to the side to place a feverish kiss to his cracked, pillowy lips.

She continued moving her hand along his length, from root to tip, playing with the precum that began to accumulate and stain the cotton of his underwear.

Dean’s chest rose and fell quickly with each breath, attempting to hold off his orgasm. His thighs tensed, muscles constricting beneath thin dress pants as she twisted her hand up and down his cock inside his slacks and boxers. His lips moved desperately against hers and he swiped his tongue across hers, his brows furrowed in mind-numbing pleasure.

Dean’s fingers dug into her thighs on either side of his body, trying to keep himself stable as his hips bucked up into her hand, driving his cock faster through her fingers. Her hand squeezed at the sides of his neck and released to make his brain fuzzier, neurons hazed with lust and need.

“Please… I wanna be inside you, baby,” Dean panted against her lips as she kissed him. Instead, she rapidly continued to tug at his cock, her fist wrapped tightly around him until he felt like exploding. “I can’t- please- I need you,” he begged, but never dared to stop her as her lips trailed away to his jawline, to suck a dark mark on the sensitive skin of his neck.

She suddenly loosened her grip on his cock and slowly slid her slick palm up the front of his body. His orgasm began to fade away and his body slumped against hers, his chests heaving with each breath, his heart racing. Her lips brushed against his earlobe, “you’re right…” she murmured.

“A-about what?” He mumbled, lifting himself up to turn and face her. She was smiling at him when he gazed at her, her eyes soft and full of love, mirroring the much more dishevelled expression on his own, pink face.

Her eyes flickered away from his dewy green eyes when he leaned into her. He watched them travel up his body, from his thigh pressing into the leather next to her leg, to his boxers shoved low on his hips, exposing curly, light brown hair, his unzipped slacks and therather belt hanging losing around his hips, up to the opened dress shirt and t-shirt beneath draped haphazardly over his chest, and then her eyes stopped at his mouth.

She tilted her head and met him the rest of the way to press her lips against his, placing a soft, adoring peck. “I do think cowboys are fucking hot, especially you,” she smirked, scratching gently at the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny hairs behind his head.

Dean bit his lip, mirroring her expression, and hummed, “is that right?” She nodded, her other hand slipping down to tease the waistband of his boxers. Dean’s calloused hands travelled up her sides, sneaking beneath her long-sleeved shirt, up warm, soft skin. “I already knew, just wanted to hear you say it.”

She laughed shortly, allowing Dean to lift her thick shirt up and off her body. Dean’s lips came down to her neck, hot and open-mouthed kisses flushing her skin. His hands traced her sides and eventually hooked at the top of her leggings to pull down the material covering her legs. He carefully let her lay down as she shifted to fully remove her leggings and underwear.

But she sat upright once more before Dean could settle between her warm legs. Dean remained fully clothed and he laughed against her breasts when she impatiently shoved his slacks and boxers lower. His hands remained firmly on her body, exploring inches of familiar skin—squeezing, pulling, and holding.

His soft lips moved over the expanse of her chest, teeth nibbling on sensitive flesh, his wet tongue tasting her velvety skin. Her hands made their way down past his cock to cup his balls, which made Dean’s brow rise in pleasant surprise, his mouth freezing around her nipple.

He moaned around her skin and brought his own hand down between her legs as his cock bobbed excitedly. Warm slick coated his fingertips when he slid his fingers through her folds. With a pleased hum, she reached back to grip the wooden handle of the couch, and gently pressed her palm against his balls.

He played with her clit, coating it in her arousal, then buried his middle finger inside her. She bit her lip and arched her back, a jolt from his thumb pressing into her clit causing her to moan. She removed her hand from between his legs—much to his disappointment—to dig her nails into his taut thigh.

Dean dragged his tongue across her chest to attend to her other breast and dipped a second finger into her. Her pussy fluttered around his scissoring fingers, she whispered his name, moving her legs over his hips in a more comfortable position. Her hand slid up to bunch up in his shirt as her thighs twitched, screwing her eyes shut as the pleasure dazed her.

Her shift in position brought her centre closer to him and he pushed a third finger into her, working her open thoroughly, expertly. Her wetness drenched his thick fingers, making every push and pull swift and easy. They curled inside her, rubbing delectably at her g-spot, pressing delightfully into the most sensitive parts of her walls. Her toes curled and she lifted herself up higher in his lap, implicitly urging him to skip to the fucking.

Dean instantly did as she wordlessly requested and pulled his glistening fingers out of her warmth. He stroked his cock a few times, first, watching her watch him coat himself in her excitement. He looked back down between their flushed bodies when he began moving his cock through her dewy folds, moaning contentedly at the sensation of her against him.

She unclenched her hand from his shirt to bring up behind his neck, her delicate fingers slipping between short hairs. Finally, Dean pushed himself into her deliberately, then out gradually. Over and over they created a rhythm.

With one foot on the floor and his knee pressing into the backrest, his hands gripping her hips tightly. His lips connected to any part of her he could reach, moaning and gasping softly against her skin with every clench of her pussy, every measured thrust to feel every inch of her slide across his cock.

Her arm flexed behind her as she moved with Dean, her fingers gripping the wooden arm of the couch tightly, timing each roll of her hips with his. Occasionally, she met every one of his thrust and brought his face closer to her with her fingers curled around the back of his neck.

His breath dampened her already steamy skin and his hands started to wander lovingly over her shiny body, feeling the exertion of her muscles beneath his calloused palms.

Gradually, they began to move faster against each other.

Dean’s body built up more heat with the clothes still covering every inch of him. His mouth went dry with every open-mouthed breath and he searched for her lips as a tingle ran up his spine, his stomach clenching to foreshadow his impending orgasm.

He felt her breath against his lips and her fingers moved deeper into his hair, tugging so his mouth fell open. Her lips moved over his, her wet tongue bringing moisture back into his mouth, and over his chapped lips. Dean kissed her back with so much more force, easing his tongue into her mouth when she pulled hers out to smirk into the kiss.

He squeezed her ass, painfully pressing his fingers into her back, desperately trying to feel her against his body. He fucked into her briskly, with strong thrusts that pressed his cock deeper into her channel until she squirmed from how good it was. He swallowed her pleased groan and brought her closer with his arm around her waist and his palm flat against her back.

Dean’s thrust became erratic, every slam of his hips and every roll of hers made contact with her clit, bringing her close to the edge with him. Every touch of each other’s bodies, every hot and lewd kiss, every heavy and fast breath, every breathless and pleasured sound, every wet and hot sensation built up like volatile chemicals.

With a few final thrusts, Dean came with a groan of her name by her ear. She squeezed his cock tightly and cursed at the sensation of his hot cum coating her insides. Her thighs pressed into his hips as she orgasmed with a sharp gasp, clinging to him as they rode out their climax.

Dean ground his hips up into her, keeping himself deep inside her as she shook and held him in a tight embrace. Their lips met once more for a softer, more elated kiss as they became blanketed in the afterglow of their release. She released the wooden arm of the couch to cup Dean’s scruffy jaw and Dean’s arms circled around her waist.

He moved backwards carefully and laid her down onto her back, allowing her to fully wrap her legs around his waist. Dean shoved his suit jacket and dress shirt off as they kissed. She smiled against his mouth and let him pull away fully from her lips to watch him throw both items onto his bed.

“It was cold before, but it’s hot now,” he muttered, pulling his t-shirt up over his head by the back of the neck. She giggled and brought her hands to his ass, moving his pants and underwear lower, past his thighs.

“Well…” she trailed off, gazing at him as he slowly pulled his cock out of her. “Hey,” she pouted, moving his attention away from the mess between her legs and the mixture of their spendings leaked out of her.

“Uh, yeah?” He grinned, moving off the couch to kick off the cowboy boots, and everything else so he was fully naked before her.

“Your last gift,” she started, looking over to the bed. Before returning to his spot between her legs, Dean followed her eyes and lifted a brow. “It’s under your pillow,” she smiled shyly, looking up at him as his lips parted and then made an ‘o’.

“Awesome,” he murmured, making his way to his side of the bed. He searched underneath with a swipe of his hands beneath the cool pillow and grabbed the small, somewhat heavy box decorated with pink wrapping paper and a silver bow. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it curiously.

She laughed at him, taking the unused napkin from the table to clean herself up, which distracted Dean from his gift. He was about to protest, offering to clean her up, but she laughed. He pouted at her, but settled back in her arms in the same position as before once she finished.

“I really… really hope you like this one,” she whispered against his shoulder. Dean looked back at her and smiled softly—his eyes reassuring her that he’d like anything that came from her. He carefully pulled at one end of the bow to watch it fall apart into a straight line.

He ripped the paper to reveal a wooden box. Dean imagined a necklace, if the thud against the soft cushion inside the box revealed anything about what it actually was.

A ring? He planned on proposing, but he’d say yes if she turned the tables. He smiled at the thought, but he doubted that they were stepped enough into a normal life for that. If it were up to him, he’d have asked her to marry him ages ago.

He opened the box slowly and blinked at the steel key.

“A… key?” He asked out loud, turning his body to look at her as she waited for his reaction anxiously.

“I… bought a house?” She squeaked, her cheeks turning dark. Dean’s lips parted. He wanted to question her, to make a comment about what the place looked like or where it was or how much it cost, to say anything, but his throat tightened and clogged any words from escaping. With his tongue heavy in his mouth, there was no hope to ease her anxiety. He shut it instead. “For you- us. You and me…” she rambled, wrapping her hand around his to shut the box as if it were Pandora’s box—unleashing her deepest fears, but worst of all, her hope.

“I…” Dean trailed off, staring at the wooden exterior of the square container. A little box that would give him the future he’s secretly always yearned for with her. He was too much of a coward to ever do anything and go for it. Her hand moved away from his and she shifted behind him awkwardly, pushing him off her so he’d face her instead.

“You don’t…” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “It’s okay, if you don’t want… this…” She snatched the gift away from him as if she’d show him her deepest secret and had been judged for revealing what it was.

“No! I-I do want this,” Dean reassured her and quickly took it back to open it, and remove the key from inside. He placed it on his palm, cold, small, and light against his sweaty skin. “I just…” His eyes flickered up to hers, the guarded and nearly stony expression on her face twisting his stomach in regret. “I love you,” he breathed, pressing his lips against the corner of her lips.

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip, her eyes dancing over his face to gauge any emotion or shift that would hint to reveal he was truly feeling. “I don’t want you to be unhappy… if you don’t want this, it’s okay. You can tell me. I have a backup gift anyway,” she shrugged casually, moving to sit on her legs next to him.

She gazed at the side of his face as he continued to make her heart plummet with the long stare at the key in his hand.

“Why?” He asked with knitted brows, looking at her. He could tell she felt much more bare and vulnerable as she crossed her arms over his chest and kept herself covered with her own body.

“I didn’t know if I wanted to give it to you just yet,” she admitted. Dean frowned. “But after today… the way you followed me around and helped me.. I changed my mind,” she shrugged again, “but it’s okay if we both want something different, if you’re not ready… you know I’d wait…” She smiled nervously, so it didn’t last, and her mouth returned to a straight line.

“No more waiting, baby.” Dean shook his head and put the key back into the box, leaving it beside him to take her hands. He lifted them both up to his lips, staring into her eyes to demonstrate his earnestness, “you waited long enough.”

“I promise you that I’m ready,” he reassured her, brushing his thumbs against her knuckles. “This gift… it means so much to me. I do, truly, love you.” Dean tugged her hands and she finally laughed, allowing herself to be happy with him. In this moment. And forever. No more waiting.

As he held her, Dean pictured the future they could have together and let his body rest without fear of everything else going on. For once, he’d let himself be happy. It was the one way he could let go of Sam, allowing both himself and his baby brother a shot at a normal life, something Dean wanted for himself and Sam for so long. This was the first step to freedom.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” she whispered against his forehead, kissing the tiny scar that resided there.

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main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

dean’s 45th birthday celebration masterlist

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#dean’s 45th birthday celebration #dean x female!reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #happy birthday dean <3 #happybirthdaydeanwinchester #happy birthday dean

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