#only finished season one last and actually stressed about what they could throw as curveballs for roy/keeley

[royslovelanguage]

one thing about me is i will make any love triangle i like poly.

that being said rooting for roy/keeley/jaime and the absolute drama about to unfold

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part ten) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part ten: Y/N is about to go on an adventure. Good thing she has her friend Jo to help her pack and her crush Dean to guide the way. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: The Man With The Harmonica - Ennio Morricone, Hide And Seek - Gareth Dunlop (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

    “Wait, you’re not planning on bringing all that with you, are ya?”     Y/N’s eyes leave the three pairs of boots from which she still has to choose. Not to decide what two sets to leave behind, but which to wear and which to pack. Jo stands in the doorway of her tiny room, staring at the bed, which is covered in flannels, shirts, tops, several hats, jeans, jackets, sweaters, towels, socks, matching underwear, swimwear, a makeup bag, and a toiletry bag. Even a hair iron and of course her phone charger lay amongst the collection of items that one way or another are going to have to fit into her bag.

    The season is coming to an end now that September has reached its final days. It’s time to move the two-year-old horses down from the summer reservation. Bobby had asked his intern if she wanted to come along and of course she blurted out ‘yes!’ before he could even finish his sentence. She was so excited about the trail ride and started packing immediately. This is going to be quite an experience, especially for a show rider like herself who usually sticks to riding in a fenced arena.     It’s a good thing that she started gathering her things early, because she has been contemplating what to bring for over an hour now. She’s the kind of girl who pays extra for exceeding the luggage weight limit on her flights, so no wonder she’s having it tough choosing what to bring.

    A little helpless she looks over at Jo, who’s waiting on her response.     “I was planning on bringing this, actually,” she returns, hesitatingly.     “Damn… poor horse,” the blonde cowgirl comments, eyeing all her friend’s stuff.     “Too much?” Y/N assumes.     “Just a tad,” Jo scoffs as she walks in. “And what the hell are you bringing the entire electronics store for?”     “It’s just my charger and my hair iron. I will look like birds are nesting on my head if I don’t straighten this out,” she objects, holding out the strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail.     “And you can’t have that with Dean around.” The ranch owner’s daughter crosses her arms in front of her chest, knowingly frowning at her friend.     Y/N tilts her head and glares back, but fails to come up with a decent counter, because she’s not wrong.     “Shut up,” she mutters instead.     “By all means, pack it.” Jo shrugs as she turns back to the door. “But unless you tie a generator behind that horse of yours or find a cactus with a plug, you ain’t charging a damn thing.”     “Wait. What?” Y/N responds, confused.

    Jo sways around, her blonde braid hanging down from one shoulder. She narrows her eyes, trying to understand how her friend could be so oblivious to the fact that there won’t be any electricity where they are going. “What did my old man tell you exactly?”     “That we might have to spend a couple of nights out camping,” Y/N recalls, trying to remember his exact words.     “Have you ever been out camping, city girl?” Jo wonders, her tone indicating that she has figured it out.     Now Y/N crosses her arms defensively. Just because she comes from a wealthy family, doesn’t mean that she has never been on a trip back to basics.     “I have, as a matter of fact,” she returns confident.     “Let me define ‘camping’,” Jo kicks off. “I’m talking ‘bout the sleeping-in-a-tent, no-shower-for-days, cooking-your-own-food-above-a-fire kind of camping. Not the kind where you park the luxurious double axle camper nice and close to the restaurant and the power station and get that satellite working as soon as possible so y’all can watch Netflix.”

    Y/N opens her mouth to claim that she is not that kind of person, but has to admit her loss. She’s right, down to the double axle camper and the satellite TV.     “So, no electricity? No shower?” she asks, intimidated by the matter, a trace of panic in her voice.     “Nope,” Jo confirms, amused. “Better start prioritizing. Let me get my saddlebags, you can use those. Everything that doesn’t fit in there except for your sleeping bag, is not comin' along for the ride.”     “Alright,” Y/N agrees reluctantly, nonetheless grateful for the help. “But how are you going to pack if I have your saddlebags?”     “Simple: I’m not. I’m staying home,” the ranch owner’s daughter says.     Astonished, the intern looks at her. Wait, her friend isn’t coming on this trail? The thought actually scares Y/N a little, because Jo has been there to guide her since she picked her up from the airport over a month ago.     “Are you kidding me? Why?”     “Someone has to run this joint while y’all are having fun. Usually, the stable crew guards the castle, but with Ash gone…”

    Y/N drops her head, her mind going out to the former cattle worker. Ash left a week ago. Bobby gave him two weeks' notice but said he was free to go anytime. The loyal employee showed character and stayed as long as Bobby could afford to keep him. But after those fourteen days, Ash had no choice but to leave. Everyone was sad to see the quirky fellow go. The exchange of hugs between him and every member of his working family was moving to witness.     “Dad offered to stay behind by himself, but he’s getting too old to work that hard,” Jo explains. “Garth and I will make sure everything runs smoothly here.”     “What about me? How am I supposed to function without my conscience?” Y/N pouts.     “You’ll be fine. You got Dean to hold your hand the entire way,” Jo mocks.     The worried cowgirl chuckles. “That’s the whole problem now, isn’t it?”     Jo gets up and intends to leave the room to get the saddlebags. She halts in the doorway, though, offering good advice. “Just remember: don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”     “He’s your cousin. Of course you’re not going to sleep with him,” Y/N returns smartly, pulling a laugh from the blonde cowgirl.     “See my point?” she returns, winking back before she leaves the room.

    Thirty minutes later, Y/N is packed and ready, but sacrifices had to be made. Obviously, the hair iron and phone charger didn’t make the final cut, but neither did her shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer, since she won’t be able to shower anyway. Her makeup didn’t fit into the bags either. It hurts to leave it all behind and she already feels insecure about spending days with the others wearing a blank canvas of a face. Sure she isn’t as fresh at the end of a working day as she was at the start of it, but so far she has been able to keep her hair and makeup in check. Now she won’t even have a mirror to judge how tired and ordinary she looks without a brow pencil and mascara.     “You’re all set.” Jo, who is on her knees on the wooden floor fighting with the saddlebag, secures the last strap, shifts her weight back on her heels and places her hands on her narrow waistline.     “I owe you one. I would have never managed alone,” Y/N says, appreciating her friend’s help.     “You know you can count on me.” She shrugs it off after getting up. “I’ll lend you my raincoat and my gloves too. Never sure if you’re gonna need ’em, but if the monsoon decides to throw a curveball at ya, you’ll be thanking me.”     She pops out of the room again, as excited for the intern as Y/N is herself. Jo’s bubbly personality has her smiling even after she leaves. It’s funny how it feels like they have known each other for years and yet it was only a month ago that she got into the pickup truck at the airport. One month ago, this challenge started. Her dad tries to hide the surprise in his voice every time she phones him to tell him how much she is enjoying her time here. He probably expected a plea for money. That, or a one-way ticket back to luxury and easy work.

    Y/N looks at one of the pictures that she nailed to the wooden wall. It portrays her family; Mom, Dad, and her three brothers surrounding Y/N at her graduation ceremony. Sure, she misses them, but she is starting to become a part of this ranch family too. That’s how it feels anyway: accepted, wanted… even loved. Her eyes hover over the picture frames and other decorations that she used to spice up her room a little. Many of the photos show Meadow, some snapped during shows, others at home in the fields. Won belt buckles and ribbons are trophies of their success together, each memory a highlight of her partnership with the special Quarter mare. Y/N remembers when she won every single one of them.

    “You’re not getting homesick, are ya?”     She startles, jolted awake from her daydream, and turns her head to face her handsome supervisor. Dean leans against the doorpost, and judging by the amused expression, he has been standing there for longer than a second. Dear Lord, she got so caught in recalling past victories and happy memories, that she didn’t hear him walk up to her room. The sight of him has her lost for air, even after recovering from the scare. He stands on one leg, the other bent and crossing his back foot, resting on the nose of his boot. Fringe from his worn chaps fall down over his jeans, a dark brown Stetson to match it. Dressed in a red plaid buttoned shirt and a denim jacket over it, he looks even better than he did this morning. The handsome models in the old Marlboro commercials have nothing on him.     “Don’t worry. I’m not going back anytime soon,” she responds before Dean can call her out on staring. “Besides, this is beginning to feel a lot like home, too.”     The wrangler glances at the wall next to the bunk bed and lets his eyes roam over the photos, ribbons and buckles. He smiles at a goofy picture of her and her three older brothers.     “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he compliments.     Y/N smiles at that. “Well, I am going to be staying here for a while. Might as well make it cozy.”

    He grins, his green eyes catching the rays of sunlight coming through the window. Specks of gold stand out amongst the apple green, his pupils adjusting as they flick over the captured moments. They stop when he notices a photo taken during a prize-giving ceremony. He recognizes Meadow instantly, her trademark white face is hard to miss. She stands proudly with a white and blue sash hanging from her neck, event sponsors standing next to the horse, presenting the prizes won while smiling at the camera. But the person who smiles the brightest is Y/N, who sits squarely in the saddle with a wide grin on her face and sparkles in her eyes.     “You won the State Championships,” he says impressed, reading the footnote. “That’s pretty damn impressive.”     Y/N lights up but stays humble. “Meadow was on fire. It was the ride of my life.”     “I bet it was.” Dean watches her for a second, admiring, while she reminisces over the highlight of her riding career. Then he glances at his watch briefly. “We leave at ten. You’re all packed?”

    “She is now,” Jo interrupts, holding out a rolled-up sleeping bag and neatly packed raincoat. “Gloves are in the pockets.”     “Thanks, Jo.” Y/N takes them and looks over her shoulder in search of her saddlebags. Dean instantly moves in to pick them up, since she has her hands full anyway.     “I got it,” he states, lifting her luggage over his shoulder.     “Oh, how noble of you!” Jo teases her cousin, not at all impressed with his manors. “What are you gonna do next? Buy a white horse?”     Y/N snorts, but quickly straightens her mouth into a thin line to silence herself and hide the sign of amusement. Luckily, the wrangler is too busy countering her friend, as he follows the two girls into the living room.     “It’s called ‘being nice’. You should try it sometime,” Dean snarls.     Before the ranch owner’s daughter pushes open the front door, she looks over her shoulder. “Would you like to hold the door for her too?” she suggests, a challenging smirk on her face.     “Would you like to shut your piehole?” Dean fires back after rolling his eyes.

    Y/N giggles at the bickering, and opens the door herself by pushing it with her foot. If she didn’t know any better, she would think the two are siblings. Maybe not by blood, but they spent a great deal of their childhood together in the same house, at least that’s what she understood from Jo. Over the years, the youngest Singer figured out that she might not be able to beat her older cousin when it comes down to strength and speed, but verbally she stands her ground just fine. Now is no different, because Dean might have had a comeback ready, Y/N doesn’t fail to notice the color on his cheeks. He carefully glances at her from under his hat, the cowgirl smiling back reassuringly before she descends down the stairs.

    At the tack up area, the Joshua tree stands tall, offering meager shade to the horses and humans underneath its branches. It’s rush hour. Benny and Garth are readying the horses, assisted by the three riders that are coming along for the trail. Dean was against bringing people along on such a long and potentially dangerous ride, but Bobby said the tourists paid good money and were experienced, so eventually, he agreed. Eight horses are tied up to the rails around the yucca tree. Six of them will be ridden, the other two will be the group’s packhorses. Y/N spots Joplin amongst them, the feisty mare that has grown on her over the past weeks.     “She’s yours for the next couple of days.” Dean points her out, heading over to the dark horse with Y/N’s baggage. “Since the two of you get along so well.”

    Delighted, she faces the mare, who pushes her soft nose into the folded raincoat in her arms, sniffing up the aroma. Y/N likes the little dark horse. She is not easy, has different ideas about what the pace should be, and can get very offended when her rider tells her otherwise, but there’s something about her attitude that the intern appreciates. She’s fast, tireless from the second her rider puts a foot in the stirrup, to the second he or she gets off. The Quarter is perfect for a trail like this. It didn’t cross her mind to bring Meadow for the ride. The reining horse, which is used to train on smooth arena footing, would most likely injure herself on the uneven rocky slopes and narrow paths. The hours under saddle would be much longer than regular training too, and Y/N does not want to confront her four-legged best friend with a task that she isn’t up for.     Dean swings the saddlebags over Joplin’s back and straps them to the saddle. He mounts the sleeping bag and Jo’s raincoat that he takes from the intern on top, his fingers briefly brushing against hers in the transfer. The tingling sensation lingers on the surface of her skin where he touched her, causing her to be the one who is flustered now. The wrangler carefully glances over as he secures the baggage. She feels caught, but his expression is soft and comforting; he felt it too.

    “Okay, y’all! We’re goin’ in five!” Benny shouts loud enough for everyone on the square to hear with his Southern accent thick on his tongue. “If you have to use the john or forgot to pack clean undies, now would be your last chance to do so.”

    Last preparations are made by the crew. Benny secures his lasso to the horn of the saddle with a leather rope strap, while Dean consults his uncle one more time before departure, the two of them looking at a map of the Superstition Mountains. Then Dean folds the map and shoves it into the inside pocket of his jacket, after which he walks over to Ted Nugent, the big brown gelding that he will be riding for the upcoming days, since his favorite buckskin is out with a tendon injury ever since that rainy morning when the cattle broke out.  Ellen walks up to her nephew and hands him a paper bag which, without a doubt, contains something delicious.     “Made you some pecan tassies for on the road,” she says. “Wouldn’t want you to miss my baking too much.”    “Thanks, Ellen.” Dean gives her a grateful nod and puts the tassies in his saddlebag.     “Be careful out there, alright?” she presses, clearly worried about the quest that lies ahead for the wranglers. “Bring them back home safely.”     “I’ll take care of the bunch. I promise,” he assures comfortingly, gently pulling her into his chest after which he gives his aunt a kiss on her hair.

    Ellen and Dean aren’t the only ones who exchange a few last words before the group leaves.     “Okay, grasshopper. This is it,” Jo’s voice sounds from behind Y/N.     She spins on her heels in between the horses to meet the ranch owner’s daughter, who folds her arms around Y/N and hugs her tight. Happily, she returns the embrace before Jo pulls back and holds her by the shoulders.     “Stay away from chollas if you don’t want Joplin to turn into a two-year-old who never had a saddle on her back before. And if the horses get nervous and you hear a rattle, get the hell out of Dodge, because there’s a rattlesnake within a few feet from you. Check your–-”     Y/N cuts Jo off, because she has heard this before from either her or Ellen.     “I know, I know. Check my boots for spiders and scorpions before I put them on and keep the tent closed,” she fills in.     “Not just to keep out insects and reptiles, but horny cowboys as well,” Jo adds.     Y/N snorts. “I’ll handle him. I will miss you, though.”     “I’ll miss you, too, sis,” her friend returns, smiling.

    They say goodbye while Dean unties his gelding and gets on swiftly, overlooking the group from the higher point of view.     “Y’all ready?” he asks the company of six.     When the riders cheer, he takes the reins with one hand and pulls it gently towards him, an aid for Ted to backup and move away from the other horses. The excitement rises noticeably, comparable to what one would feel when on an aircraft just before take-off and on its way to a new destination. Some of the animals start to get restless in the thrill, Joplin included. Y/N doesn’t waste any time and pulls the safety knot in order to free the mare, then puts her left foot in the stirrup and pushes herself off the ground with her right, swinging it over the back of the black horse.     “Good luck, y’all,” Bobby wishes the six men and women.     “See you in a couple of days!” Jo calls out.

    Y/N waves at the people staying behind, a bright smile spreading from ear to ear. Looking forward to the adventure that will come next, she straightens herself in the saddle and faces the vast landscape. She might be twenty-four, but she feels more like a seven-year-old going on a field trip. In front of the rider, a pair of alert ears belonging to Joplin point forward. Beyond that view, the promontory of the Superstition Mountains stretches out. The sun has risen from behind the ridges in the East hours ago, already warming up the valley with its strong rays.

    Dean watches the young woman, consumed by a different kind of scenery as his horse follows the path. In the past few weeks, she has grown more comfortable in her role as a wrangler and a ranch hand. The daily routine is starting to become her second nature and the people she works with are her friends now. He wouldn’t have guessed it at first - and he’s quite sure she herself wouldn’t have guessed it either - but she fits in perfectly. The rich girl from upstate with a master’s degree under her belt feels at home surrounded by a bunch of country folks in the dry desert lands of the south west. Who would have thought that? Dean smiles, content; something tells him that this trip will help her blossom even more.

    She could almost hear a harmonica play the theme from Once Upon A Time In The West, and she’s still waiting for tumbleweed to roll across the path. Cacti reach for the sun, their arms outstretching upward, like the giants are growing actual limbs. It’s a nice variation to the evergreens that she is used to, back in Maine. The rain that came down two weeks ago has laid a blanket of green over the dry lands; it’s amazing how nature can change in a matter of days. Jo warned her about the sun, and with good reason. Over the last month, the intern slowly but surely got used to the extreme weather circumstances that Arizona offers, but she has never been on a horse during the hottest hours of the day. It might already be late September, but the heat is blistering. She could use a shower right about now, and just the thought of not being able to take one for the next couple of days grosses her out. The temperatures weigh on the female rider, more than she thought it would, but her partner Joplin doesn’t seem to mind much. Her neck and shoulders are sweaty, but she still dribbles impatiently every now and then, eager to cover more ground.

    Dean leads the group, guiding them from spring to spring. The group left the Hieroglyphic Trail about three hours ago, which ended at a small creek and a poor excuse for a waterfall. They took a break there and had a few of Ellen’s delicious pecan tassies while the horses drank. Now, they are well on their way to Willow Spring, but the trail isn’t getting any easier. As they conquer the steep slopes, the pace slows down. Y/N is amazed at how the horses are able to maneuver on the rough terrain, which consists of loose pebbles, slippery boulders, and cracked volcanic rock. One misstep could severely injure the large animals, but they seem to be aware of that. Joplin proceeds agile and fearless, almost like a bobcat, and her rider learns quickly to let her take care of the drops and jumps. She doesn’t need guidance, the mare knows the way. All Y/N has to do is sit tight and move along with her to maintain the balance.

    “How y’all doing back there?” Dean is looking over his shoulder, his free hand resting on the cantle of the saddle.     “We’re good!” one of the tourists assures.     His name is Brad, the young guy riding next to his sister Macy and their buddy Jonathan. The head wrangler chatted a little bit with the three members of the group and they turn out to be good company. The trio is traveling across the country, enjoying a gap year from college. With Brad and Macy’s father being a rancher in Colorado, they know their way around horses. Jonathan is a little less experienced in the saddle, but he’s managing just fine. No doubt about it, though, that he’s going to be left with a serious muscle ache in the coming days.         The leader of the pack shifts his eyes from them to his intern, asking her the same question silently. She nods, smiling reassuringly at her handsome supervisor, telling him in the same language that she’s doing fine. Content, Dean smiles back and winks at her before he straightens himself.     It’s a good thing he’s not facing her anymore, because Y/N is sure that about a hundred butterflies hatched from their cocoons in her stomach, the feeling triggering her to take a shuddering breath. She huffs, annoyed with the response he triggered. Just look at him. He’s infuriatinglygorgeous, looking way too good on his horse, in those darn chaps, wearing that darn western hat. A part of her wants to dislike him, just for being so distracting. But she can’t be mad at him, not really. Just a glance her way with that grin and she’s a complete goner. Y/N watches as the cowboy catches up with Benny, slowing his horse down when they are side by side.

    “Tell me, Chief, how are things between you and the intern goin’?” the Southerner wonders, making sure the woman in question is unable to pick up on the conversation.     Dean looks aside at his best friend, amused by his curiosity. “It’s not going anywhere, really. Things are good as they are,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon, now. Did she turn you down again?” Benny guesses.     Dean eyes him. “She didn’t turn me down. I just didn’t make my move.”     The wrangler next to him seems to need a second to process the information. Dean Winchester didn’t make a move on a girl he likes in 0.2 seconds? That’s a new one. “Wait a minute. So you two haven’t even…?”     “We’re just friends, Benny,” Dean claims, aware how terribly unconvincing it sounds the moment he pronounces the words.     “Horse shit. You didn’t pass up Casey to be ‘just friends’ with the gal. You called dibs,” he reminds the head wrangler. “Besides, I see the way you look at her. You don’t look at a pal like that.”

    Dean shakes his head, remembering the arrangement well. It’s not like he can deny he made that deal with the farrier, despite that it felt wrong to do so. But back then when he claimed her in order to keep his notorious friend away, he was still clueless about the affection he felt for her. The affection that steadily grew stronger to the point where he cares more about what’s best for the free young woman than what he wants for himself.     “So what, Benny?” He shrugs, hoping his friend would let it go.     “So what? I know it’s a little dusty here in the desert, but did you get sand in your eyes?” Benny returns, perplexed.     “Look, I know she’s awesome, and yes, I wouldn’t mind hooking up with her, but I can’t, okay?” Dean claims.     Unable to understand the math behind his choice, the broad-shouldered ranch hand throws him a look that somewhere between dirty and confused. “Why not?”     “Well for starters, Bobby will kill me if he finds out, since he took me aside to specifically forbid me to pull anything. Secondly, she’ll only stay for six months--”     Benny interrupts him, however. “Invalid, Chief. Bobby told you before to quit bouncing around with clients and staff and it never stopped you then. And since when is six months too short for you? You usually get bored with your lady friends after a--”     The cowboy from the South stops mid-sentence and Dean can almost hear it click in his mind. Oh, boy. Benny has figured it out. Even though he tried to make up excuses in order to avoid being confronted by his best bud, there’s no way of dodging that bullet now.     “Well, fuck a goat and call her Nancy! You’re in love with her,” Benny announces, shocked.     Dean raises his eyebrows at the rider next to him, then scoffs and looks away, trying to act like the very idea is ridiculous. “That’s - that’s just… Y-you’re insane,” he stutters, unable to flat out deny it.     Benny starts to laugh out loud, apparently very much amused with his discovery. “I can’t believe you walked straight into that love trap!”     “Would you keep your voice down?” the rider next to him hushes.     The farrier looks over the back of his horse at the intern, but she’s about thirty yards behind them talking to Macy, clueless what the two wranglers leading the group are discussing.     Dean stays quiet for a few long seconds, trying to decide if he is ready to admit that she means so much to him. “She’s a nice girl, Benny. I don’t wanna hurt her,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon now! You’re seriously telling me you grew a conscience all of a sudden? You used to love ‘em and leave ‘em without a second thought.” Benny has crossed his wrists over the horn of his saddle, the reins loosely between his fingers, as he looks aside to catch anything that would indicate what’s going on in his best mate’s head. It’s clear that he’s astonished by the shift in his demeanor.     “I’m gonna ignore the urge to ask you who you are and where my friend is,” the Southerner chuckles. “But is it really just her heart you’re scared to break?”     Dean ponders, trying to make sense of the odds and ends that scatter his thoughts. Benny is not entirely wrong. It terrifies the wrangler to give in to these emotions. Is that maybe the true reason why he didn’t kiss Y/N that night under the Joshua tree? Or when she came looking for him after he had that argument with Ash? Maybe it’s a bit of both.     “How long have we known each other? Fourteen, fifteen years now?” Dean recalls.     “Give or take,” Benny confirms, looking down at the trail as he moves his hand over the mane of his horse in order to steer it a little wider around a boulder.     “Do I seem like the kinda guy who does that? Fall for a girl? I liked the way things were, no attachments and all that,” the head wrangler continues, confused.     “That’s the thing about falling in love, Chief. It happens to the best of us and always at a time when you least expect it. It hits you like lightning and you’re toast before you even got a clue why you’re feelin’ so crispy,” Benny says wisely.

    The head wrangler glances at his companion sideways, reading into his words. It almost sounds like the Southerner knows what he’s talking about.     “You’ve been there,” he realizes.     “Oh, I’ve been there. I’ve been beyond falling in love, I loved her with my whole damn heart,” Benny acknowledges, smiling at the memory. “Her name was Andrea. We were both eighteen. She spent the summer with relatives in Louisiana and I was a lost cause from the moment I laid eyes on her. A Greek Goddess, and I ain’t exaggeratin’. She was pretty as a peach! Kind, funny as hell, too.”     “Since she’s ain’t here, I reckon it didn’t end well?” Dean assumes again.     “It didn’t; she went back to Greece and I moved here because everything reminded me of her at home,” his friend tells him.     “You know you just proved my point, right?” the head wrangler says, a hint of triumph in his voice trying to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If love always comes to bite you in the ass, why even bother?”     “‘Cause the heartache ain’t the clue, brother. What I had with Andrea was so good, so pure, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if I knew what I know now, how it would end, I would take that plunge again without a doubt in my mind.”     Dean huffs, unable to believe that. “Despite that she left you?”     “Fuck, yeah,” Benny states. “Better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.”

    Dean is quiet now. The path narrows and he holds Ted back a little, merging behind Benny’s horse. As he lets his friend’s words sink in, he glances down the slope at the intern again. She’s several yards down the steep hill, focused on Joplin as she rides her up the trail. Her braided hair already has strands peeking out from under her hat, and he is sure if she had a mirror she would fix the mess, but he loves it. He loves it when the wind rustles her locks, or when the desert dust smudges her skin. Once again that feeling overcomes him, the feeling of a lantern being lit in the pit of his stomach, warming his body as it slowly rises through his core to his chest, where the heat lingers. It feels so good, but there’s a catch to the sensation. It comes with the emotion that creeps up on him when he lays awake at night thinking about Y/N; fear. The fear of her leaving him after her internship. The fear of her reaction if he would let her witness the scar tissue that lays thick on his soul. The fear that this love will consume him, just like the love for Mom consumed his father. The fear of failing her. But now that the true meaning of Benny’s message dawns on him, another kind surfaces. It’s a thought that he hasn’t had before, and as it pops into his head, the question reverberates louder through his mind than all the others. What if he misses his chance? What if there are only so many opportunities to win her over?

    He straightens himself before she looks ahead and spots him staring, and he closes his eyes and tips his hat forward. Shit, you’ve been so worried about losing her that you forgot that in order to lose her, you have to have her first, he thinks to himself. A sigh slips from his dry mouth, reminding him how thirsty he is. He reaches for his water bottle from his saddlebag, pulls out the cap with his teeth and gulps down the water, knocking his head back as he takes a few swigs. Nope, he’s not dehydrated. In fact, he’s still having these contradicting thoughts. When he slips the bottle back where he took it from, his eyes wander down the path again, this time looking straight into hers. As he tries to decide on his next move, he holds her gaze as she smiles up at him. Dean wasted two shots already; what if it’s three strikes, you’re out? If he fucks this up, at least he tried, but if he won’t give this a try at all, he’ll beat himself up over it for the rest of his life. Either way, failure seems to be inevitable.

    Then he remembers something. Something that he was taught at a very young age. He had just turned four when he took a fall off the neighbor’s Shetland pony. It was the first time he had rode alone without his mom holding the miniature horse and the naughty pony took advantage of that situation. The Shetland picked up speed and bucked once, sending him straight into the dirt. After making sure that her son was okay, he recalls his mom picking him up.     “You wanna give it another go?” she asked.     “No…” he said.     “So that’s it? You never wanna ride again?” she questioned again, her voice gentle.     Now he was quiet, not sure how to answer that. “I don’t wanna fall off,” he mumbled eventually, looking down at the ground.     “Falling is a part of riding, sweety. It’s a part of life. It’s okay to fall,” she told him.     “But it hurts,” he said, rubbing his scraped elbow. “And it’s scary.”     “Yeah, sometimes falling can be very scary,” Mom acknowledged. “But you won’t get any better if you stop trying. You have to face what you’re scared of, to grow. You know what they say about falling?”     He shook his little head, waiting for the elaboration patiently.     “You have to fall off seven times before you'll become a good rider,” she says.     “Seven?!” he repeats, eyes wide.     “Seven,” Mom pointed out. “But you know how he becomes a great horseman?”     Dean shook his head again and listened eagerly. All that he wanted was to become a horseman, so this was the time to pay attention.     “A good rider becomes a great horseman when he falls seven times and gets up eight.”

    The wise words always stuck with Dean as he grew older. He remembers when he was twelve and got back to his feet after his seventh crash landing, this time from a young bronc. He was a horseman now, because he got up beaming, and brushed the dirt from his jeans. Every time when life beat him down, he did the same. Sadly, Mom wasn’t there to see her son become a horseman. She was long gone by the time he reached that age, but her life lessons will never be forgotten. Life is filled with setbacks. No one walks this journey without encountering them. For some that one setback is enough reason to give up and never become good at anything, for others, it’s a way to push through. And yes, getting up and trying again is not easy. But Mom taught him to look fear in the eye and get back in the saddle anyway, because quitting will definitely not get him anywhere. Whenever he hit the ground, literally or metaphorically, he would think of that memory. Now is no different. Mom was right; he has to face what scares him in order to grow.

    Dean slows down his horse, pulling the bit just enough to stop Ted, giving the horse behind him a chance to catch up. When Joplin comes alongside, he glances at the rider from under his Stetson.     “Hello, Cowboy,” she greets, a small but delighted smile on her lips.     Dean chuckles at that, his eyes not leaving hers.     “Hey, beautiful,” he returns.     The compliment brightens her eyes even more and heats up her cheeks. The trail barely allows the two of them to ride side by side, their stirrups touching occasionally. He aches for her knee to brush his like he would crave rain after a long desert ride. When the denim of her jeans does rub against him, it leaves him electrified. And then he realizes that Benny is right, too. It is better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part eleven here

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part one) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)  Word count: ±4350 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part one: Y/N arrives at the airport, but getting to her new internship is easier said than done, when no one shows to pick her up. Meanwhile, at the ranch, Dean learns that his uncle Bobby hired a new intern and assigned her to the head wrangler, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Along The Way’ - Sunday Kids (check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify!) Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me take this story to a higher level. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “This is just great…”

     After a long, turbulent flight next to a rather large and sweaty nervous flyer - who had way too much garlic for lunch, by the way - Y/N thought she was done. But now that she’s waiting outside Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport with no one in sight to pick her up, it seems that the universe isn’t going to stop toying with her just yet.

     To top it off, the weather decided to throw a curveball as well. What happened to the lovely sun rays and dry heat from the brochure? Right now it’s so humid that the fabric of her clothing clings to her skin as if it’s trying to hold on for dear life, and to make matters worse, rain begins to fall from the clouded sky. Right; monsoon season. Oh, well. At least the entrance of the arrival hall offers the traveler some shelter.

     With a sigh she sits down on her oversized suitcase, scanning her surroundings for a driver. She should have picked up something to eat in the arrival hall; she could eat a horse, as a figure of speech that is. Obviously, Y/N would never eat a horse, since she loves them more than anything. They are the reason why she touched down in Phoenix in the first place.      From the age of four, she’s been riding the majestic animals. Being on the back of a horse is one of the first memories she can recall, now that she thinks of it. When she was a little girl and was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, the answer was always the same: she wanted to be a professional rider with her own ranch. 

     That’s the dream. No, that’s the goal.

     Despite her unconditional love for these noble creatures and an overload of motivation to execute this plan, her parents encouraged their daughter to go to college. She even got her master's degree, but truth be told, all she ever wants to do is ride. So when she graduated a few weeks ago, Y/N thought that was exactly what she was going to do from that point on. Her father wasn’t impressed with her business plan, though, and decided that he was only going to lend her the money to start up her own company if she would complete half a year of ranch work. ‘No quitting, no complaints’, is what he said.

     Clearly, he’s underestimating her, because how hard could ranch life possibly be? Sure, in the past she spent most of her time riding and not so much mucking out stables. After all, employees at the boarding facility did that for the clients. But she had insight, management skills, and other great characteristics that will help run a business. What are six months of hard labor going to contribute, besides a good waistline?

     Although she believes her father’s plan is completely unnecessary, she is going with it. Those twenty-six weeks will pass by in the blink of an eye. It’s gonna be a walk in the park. Smooth sailing, right? Except for the fact that she’s already stranded, alone, and with no clue where to go. Hopefully, the rocky flight to the desert wasn’t an omen for what is yet to come. 

    After fifteen minutes of waiting, she takes out her phone again. For a second her thumb lingers on the speed dial that would put a call through to her father, but then she looks up the number of the ranch owner in her email and calls him instead. Running back to Mom and Dad is not going to deliver the message of an independent woman who is ready for the big world. Looks like she will have to dig herself out of this mess. Arizona might not have been her Dad’s best idea, but she’s here now. Pride forbids her to give him, or all the others who are skeptical, the satisfaction of being right. 

     “Bobby, are ya gonna pick up the damn phone or what?”

     Dean sets his bottle down on the bar next to the buzzing phone. He glances at the screen, unable to identify the number, and looks up again, searching the saloon for his uncle. At the long table in the center of the lounge, the man in his mid-sixties is enjoying a game of cards and a glass of whiskey, accompanied by a few members of the crew. Bobby hasn’t heard Dean, too busy laughing over the dirty joke Ash just told. Right when his nephew is about to call out his name again, the phone on the wooden counter stops ringing. Oh well, if it’s important they will call again, right?      Even though he feels drained from last days' events, he will not let anything take away this carefree feeling. Together with Jo, Benny and a couple of regular guests, they moved the young cattle from the summer pasture up in the Superstition Mountains back to the ranch. It took two days to locate the herd, but eventually, they found them at Weaver’s Needle.      After hours spent in the saddle and camping out for several nights, they all needed a shower, a good meal and a cold beer. Bringing the cattle in is one of the highlights of the season and worth a celebration. It didn't take long before wranglers, workers and tourists gathered in the saloon to celebrate. The place hasn’t been this crowded in years and smile appears on Dean’s face as he takes it all in. An upbeat country song - that he recognizes as ‘Along The Way’ by the Sunday Kids - fills the air together with growling laughter and cigarette smoke. Cheers rise when the beer bottles are heaved into the air, overruling the sound of billiard balls colliding on the pool table. 

     He lets a sigh slip from his lips when he glances aside at Ellen, who just brought back a full tray of empty glasses. As she sets the load down on the counter to give her arms a rest, his aunt smiles, witnessing Dean’s pleased expression.

     “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” she asks.      Dean nods, circling the bar to grab two new bottles of Corona from the cooler. “It’s a good night.”      Ellen grants her eyes another look at her saloon as she takes the beer that is handed over; she can only agree. “It sure is.”

     They toast to that and take a swig, but before Dean can swallow his drink, the phone on the counter starts ringing again. He guesses it apparently is important and calls out Bobby’s name, a little louder this time.

     “I’m in the middle of a poker game, son,” he replies, not looking up from his cards.      “Your phone’s been buzzing like crazy,” Dean notifies as he approaches the old man, noticing the pair of queens in his hand.      “Is it ringing, really? How come I can’t hear the damn thing?”      Ellen scoffs from behind the counter. “Maybe because you need to start using your God-forsaken hearing aids.”      “Woman, my ears work just fine,” he returns, continuing to mutter much softer to prevent his wife from hearing him. “I can hear you jappin’, can’t I?”

     Dean - who did pick up on his words - smirks in amusement and checks on his aunt if she really didn’t hear her husband, but when she looks from one to the other confused, he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Meanwhile, Bobby grumpily turns his cards upside down on the table surface and takes the phone. The ranch owner adjusts his worn baseball cap a little as he looks down at the screen, puzzled, obviously not sure how to work the piece of modern technology.      “How the hell do I pick up?” he wonders out loud.      “You swipe it, Dad.”

     Jo walks over, interrupting her game of pool momentarily, and leans over her father’s shoulder, still holding her cue stick. With a simple movement, she lets her finger slide across the touchscreen. Somewhat clumsily, Bobby presses the phone against his ear, letting out a hesitant ‘hello?’ as if he’s not completely sure if the little magic trick actually worked.

     “You really had to give him your old iPhone, huh?” Dean sniggers when Jo walks past him, back to the pool table to finish the game.      “Anything’s better than that old Nokia,” his cousin returns, throwing him a look as she whips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “That thing was prehistoric.”

   Dean grins at the remark and observes the game that is in motion on the green quarried slate. Jo is acing it, it’s her turn to shoot the eight-ball in already, while her opponent still has several balls on the play field. The petite blonde positions herself behind the black number eight, throwing a seducing glance at the slick-looking young man on the other side of the table. With a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, she allows her low-cut tank top to show a little more cleavage as she bends over. It doesn’t go unnoticed with the men in her company, but unlike the guest that she’s reeling in, Dean has the urge to cover up his little cousin. It’s not just a game of pool that these youngsters are going to be playing tonight.

     “Sure you want to aim it like that?” Dean asks, amusedly waiting for her to pick up on the double meaning.      A deadly glare comes his way and his smirk reaches even wider. Not granting him another second of her time, Jo focuses on the final ball again and pockets it, winning the game. Victoriously, she holds up her hand in front of tonight’s loser, who reluctantly hands her a twenty-dollar bill. A chuckle escapes Dean’s throat and he takes another swig of the sparkling yellow brew called Corona. As he lowers the bottle, the cowboy’s attention shifts to his uncle, who is still on the phone.

     “- I’m very sorry, It’s been really hectic today with the cattle comin’ in and it slipped my mind completely.”      The apologetic tone in Bobby’s voice piques Dean’s interest. Jo joins him, leaning against the table while resting her elbows on the rails.      “Any idea what that’s about?” Dean wonders, but she shakes her head.      “- that’s no problem. I’ll send someone to pick you up right away.”

     After having made that promise, Bobby eyes his employees, then his wife and daughter, hoping that someone is sober enough to keep his obligation. It triggers Dean to check with his friend, Benny. The brawny wrangler answers the unspoken question by shaking his head, however; he’s not volunteering, and neither is Garth. The skinny stable boy now turns to Ash, catching the ranch hand peeking into Bobby’s cards while his boss is occupied, and he elbows him. Shrugging his shoulders the guy who is rocking a mullet lets out an innocent ‘what?’ under his breath. It’s obvious, though, that Ash is in no shape to drive, since he already drank half a crate of his favorite Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. It’s heading towards eleven PM and after an exhausting couple of days, no one is thrilled to drive out to Phoenix. Not to mention that the amount of liquor they’ve consumed might actually jeopardize getting the person Bobby is talking to from A to B.

     “Balls!” the boss curses after he hangs up.      “Forgot somethin’?” Ellen assumes from what she picked up, as she continues to polish a glass behind the bar.      “Yeah, that new intern from Maine,” he mutters as he gets up.      Ellen’s jaw drops, staring at her husband in shock. “You didn’t! That poor gal is at the airport right now?”      “Landed forty-five minutes ago,” Bobby admits, embarrassed.

     “Whoa, wait! New intern?” Dean’s eyes slide from Bobby to Ellen and back, unable to follow.      “Did I forget to mention that? She’ll be under your supervision,” Bobby breaks to him.      “What? I wasn’t even notified?!” he exclaims, his voice pitching a little higher than he anticipated.      “Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Jo scoffs, placing her hand on her hip as she looks at him sideways. “Like you would mind a chick working under you.”

     Stunned by her bold comment, Dean cocks his head back as he stares at her wide-eyed; she’s got some nerve! He is about to counter when Jo’s mother already intervenes.      “Joanna Beth!” she warns.      “Oh, come on. It’s the truth, ain’t it?” her daughter mumbles, stubborn as ever.      Ellen doesn’t answer. Instead, her attention shifts to the man who is moving towards the double doors. “And where do you think you’re going?”      Bobby turns around, a confused furrow on his forehead. “Well, to pick up the gal, of course,” he returns, stating the obvious.      “Like hell you are! You had three glasses of whiskey, Robert Singer. You ain’t getting behind the wheel and that’s that,” Ellen decides with her shoulders back, arms crossed and eyes stern.

     Annoyed, but smart enough not to fight the strong-minded woman he married thirty years ago, he addresses Dean with a hopeful look.      “Don’t look at me, this is my fourth beer,” he returns, holding his hand up innocently.      “Same here, boss,” Benny copies, his southern accent thick on his voice.

      “I’ll go.” Jo straightens her back and takes her cowboy hat from the corner of the pool table.      “You sure, honey?” her mother checks with her.      “I had one drink, Mom. You’re not gonna find a more sober person on the ranch at this hour,” she claims bored. “Keys?”      That last demand was meant for Dean.      “Keys to what?” he questions, furrowing his brow.      An eye roll, a sigh. Jo’s typical routine when she’s done with her cousin. “Your car, asshat.”      “What’s wrong with yours?”      “I have a flat. Now, are you gonna hand me the keys, or what?” she says smartly.

    Jo holds up her hand and with a reluctant grunt, Dean tosses the keys of his precious ‘67 Chevrolet El Camino pickup. Skillfully she catches it, beams at him in triumph, and makes her way to the double doors.      “If I find a scratch on her, I’ll make you regret it!” he shouts, loud enough for her to hear.      “I’d like to see you try!” she scoffs.

     A few moments later, the V8 big block under the hood of his beloved car starts up. Jo doesn’t even bother to warm up his baby before she races down the dirt road towards the big city down in the valley, skitting gravel from under the tires. Dean cringes when he hears her take off; someone’s gonna pay for that.

      He will deal with her when she gets back. Until that time Dean settles down at the long table, watching the poker game. Obviously, Ash folds the moment Bobby raises the stakes, leaving the ranch owner with fewer chips than he hoped to win.      “Can I talk to you for a second?” Dean requests before Garth starts dealing the cards.

     Bobby looks at his nephew from under his cap, observing him for a moment. He knows that kid. He spent a few years of his childhood on the ranch and the young man has been working here since the age of fourteen. The boy is like a son to him, so no wonder he can read Dean like a book. Something is bothering the wrangler, and so he gets off his chair and moves away from the crowded table. Shadowed by the cowboy, Bobby heads towards the corner of the bar, seeking a little privacy. They sit down on the bar stools, facing Ellen on the other side of the counter. Her husband doesn’t bother asking her to pour him a drink, because she is on it before he barely has the chance to settle in his seat.

     “Here you go, boys.” She puts down the filled whiskey tumblers on the varnished wood.      Dean thanks her and takes the glass in his hand, clanking it into Bobby’s, who mutters ‘cheers’ as he does so. After watching Ellen enter the kitchen, the older man shifts his gaze to the man accompanying him.      “What’s on your mind, son?” he asks.

     Dean adjusts himself a little, preparing for the upcoming conversation. He doesn’t like to question his uncle, who also happens to be his boss. This is the part where it gets tricky to keep work and family separated. He has to speak up, though, because lately, he has the oppressive feeling that Bobby might not trust him entirely when it regards the management of the ranch. Obviously, the owner calls the shots, but he used to involve Dean whenever decisions needed to be made. It’s bothering him and he needs to get it off his chest.      “Why didn’t you tell me you hired an intern?” he wonders.

     Bobby grunts softly, averting his eyes to his drink as he circles the tumbler  on its edge. He knew this talk was coming and instantly regrets keeping Dean in the dark about recent developments. His nephew is an exceptional horseman, loyal to his family, a trustworthy worker. A little relentless when it comes to risks and danger, and yes, an impulsive womanizer, but there’s one thing he isn’t and that’s stupid. He’s Bobby’s right hand for a reason, he should have known he would pick up on something.

     “Because I knew you wouldn’t approve,” he admits, taking a sip.      Dean scoffs at that. “If you knew I wouldn’t be okay with it, why did you hire her?”      “Because she’s free help, Dean.”      “Is she any good? Did you look into her?” His head wrangler eyes him, trying to make out how thorough he has been in his research.      It doesn’t take long before his uncle’s guilty expression gives it away.     “You didn’t even interview her, did ya? You just said ‘yes’? Look, I know things have been a little difficult since Gabriel left, but we’re managing fine now,” he assures him. “Educating a wannabe cowgirl is actually gonna cost me valuable time and there’s a lot of shit that needs sortin’. We have to bring in the two-year-old stallions, the calves need branding, the young stock has to be moved to the winter pastures--”      Bobby interrupts Dean’s ramble by holding up his hand to shush him, intervening the moment he has an opening. “You don’t have to worry about the young stock, I’m selling it.”      Stunned, Dean stares at him. And when was Bobby planning to tell him this?      “Why the hell would you do that?” he questions, unpleasantly surprised.        Before his boss can answer, Dean can make an estimated guess already. The concerned look in Bobby’s eyes when they meet his green ones confirms it; money is tight, very tight. The crisis has laid the ranch in a thick suffocating smog of debt and so far it doesn’t look like the air is going to clear anytime soon. Hay prices are sky high while their stock sells for half the price they used to go for. It has been hard to keep their heads above water, but so far they’ve been able to ride out the economic recession, so Dean thought. But now that Bobby’s telling him that the one-year-old cattle has to go, it dawns on him how serious the situation is. 

      His jaw clenches as he observes the ice in his glass for a moment, pondering in silence. And just like that, the careless happiness he was experiencing a moment ago, is gone.      “You wanna sell all of them? Or just the steers?” he checks.      “All of them,” Bobby sighs, downing his drink.       “How you wanna handle that next year? Buy in again? It’s gonna cost you a lot,” Dean responds, trying to think of another way.      “Right now, all we need to worry about is surviving this year, son.” Bobby pauses, now comes the bit that he wanted to avoid. Drastic measures are necessary for the survival of their home. Maybe the term ‘sacrifice’ is a better way to describe what he’s about to announce. “That’s why I need you to let one of the wranglers go.”      Shocked, Dean stares at the man in his company. Not looking him in the eye, Bobby forks his fingers together, resting his elbows on the counter.      “You want me to fire one of my men?” Dean recaps in disbelief. “No, let me correct that, you want me to fire one of my friends?”      “What you do with your colleagues in your spare time should not influence a layoff,” the ranch owner counters.      But his nephew disagrees strongly. “That’s bullshit and you know it. These guys are practically family, Bobby.”      “You think I don’t know that, boy? I ain’t happy about it either, damn it! You think I’m proud of having to send one of those guys home?”

     He nods at the workers, who are laughing loudly as Ash folds his tattooed arms around the mountain of chips that are stacked on the table, reeling in the win. Neither he, Benny, or Garth have a clue what is hanging over their heads, but it’s probably better that way. Only now does the head wrangler understand why Bobby didn’t tell him before. The poor man simply didn’t want to burden him.

     “I have to. For the future of this place, Dean. And I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this, but you know your crew best. You know who’s most needed and who we can miss,” Bobby explains with empathy.      Dean wants to fight this, he wants to object and argue in every way possible. Who he can miss? He can’t miss any of his men. Shit, after they let Gabe go, they were barely able to round up the daily routine before dinner. But he knows how this works and he knows Bobby would do anything to make sure that the boys can keep their jobs. There is no right or wrong answer here, every option behind any door is a bad one. There’s nothing the boss can do about it and Dean understands that.      “I know. I’ll handle it. Just give me a couple of days and I’ll let you know,” he assures, patting his uncle on the shoulder.    Bobby nods, but is unable to break a smile. He’s carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, go figure when you have to play God like that. It’s exactly the reason why Dean took on the task to fire one of the workers, hoping that it would relieve his surrogate father a bit.

     “I need another drink,” Bobby mutters, reaching for the Jack Daniels behind the counter.      Dean checks on his uncle from the corner of his eye, but then puts his glass down next to his. “You and me both. That intern better be good. Do you know anything about her?”      “I know she’s a reining rider, pretty damn talented too. Not much experience in ranch work, though,” the ranch owner tells him.       “Blonde? Brunette? Cute?” Dean smirks as he fishes for more information, but Bobby doesn’t reply with a straight answer.      “Oh, hell no. Not under my roof,” his father figure decides, having seen this play out numerous times already. “She’s staying for six months so tie a knot in it and keep it in your pants for once.”

     “If she sticks around that long.” The young man scoffs, triggering Bobby to glare at him. “What? We had plenty who went home crying within a week. This work ain’t for everyone.”      “I know you’re not happy with the situation, but do me a favor and just give her a chance, will ya?” Bobby pressures. “She seemed like a go-getter. She might surprise you.”      “Maybe. We’ll see,” Dean downs his glass and slides off his stool.

     Bobby watches his nephew walk away from him. It takes only a second before the charismatic cowboy put on his poker face, just in time, because Garth signals him to come over. So he does, but his next step shows a hint of hesitation. He turns on the heels of his boots, the thumb of his left hand casually hooked behind his belt buckle.      “What’s her name?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes a little.      Bobby huffs and casts his gaze at him. “Her name is Y/N,” he states. “Y/N L/N.”

     Dean raises his brow, nodding satisfied. Y/N. Sounds good, has a nice ring to it. Curious he imagines what kind of person would fit a name like that and as a perky smile starts to form on his lips, he joins the guys.

     Bobby can spot the up-to-no-good sparkle in his nephew’s green eyes and he can’t help but smile into his refilled glass of Jack. He can point a parenting finger at Dean all he wants, but if this intern is his type, he’s going to charm her right into his bed like he has done with so many women already. Oh, well. We’ve all been young, he thinks to himself. Dean being a wrangler only stacks up the number of girls dwelling at the pretty boy’s feet and he never failed to take full advantage of that. Who can blame him, really? He hasn’t committed to anyone yet, why not make the best of it? It has cost the ranch owner some money, though, since a client or two never returned after getting their hearts broken. The boy better listen this time.

     For a moment he takes in what’s playing before his eyes. His wife having a good conversation with a group of guests, the crew gathered around the long table where Ash just revealed a full house, causing the men to go out of their minds. It’s a nice moment that will make a great memory. Bobby can only hope that those moments keep coming, because no matter how precious, no man can live on memories alone.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part two here