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themoonandotherslikeit · 2 years

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Breathe - Chapter Nine

After the biggest meeting of her career, Y/N went for a drink and met him. Dean Winchester, the handsome bartender at The Shop, who managed to say all of the right things to soften her hard shell. Was it possible that Y/N was wrong all of this time? Had she spent the better part of 2 decades focusing on her career when there was one man in a city of 18 million that could make her feel more alive than any job ever could? Will she be able to slow down long enough to let herself fall in love with a man that was never a part of the plan? After years of holding her breath, will she finally let herself breathe again?

This story is written for my beautiful and talented friend and beta @dean-winchesters-bacon, thanks for always inspiring me and supporting my whims. Love you always. Banner by the talented @talesmaniac89

Chapter Nine

Dean

When Dean found out his dad was having another son he was furious. It felt like a replacement. John Winchester had already left Mary and Dean alone and found another woman to create a life with, and now Dean was being replaced, too. A new wife, a new apartment, a new son, a new life. A new life without Dean. He imagined what his little brother would be like, and all he could see at the time was a nightmare creature with sharp teeth that’s entire goal was to rip apart his family.

He wouldn’t participate in the baby shower, he didn’t care to help pick out a name, and since Mary's feelings were hurt so were Dean’s. She tried to hide it, of course, but he heard her crying at night.

It wasn’t until his dad took him to the hospital to meet Sammy that his demeanor changed completely. The squishy, pink skinned baby looked up at him with squinty eyes. He’d been screaming a moment before, but when he locked eyes with Dean he made a cooing noise and reached out a tiny, dimpled hand. There were no teeth, just gums and little purple lips that opened and closed as if he wanted to say something. Dean's heart melted as Sammy’s tiny fist wrapped around his finger, squeezing with Thor's strength.

He was a big brother, and Dean knew the moment Sam looked up at him with sleepy eyes that he would protect him until his last breath.

Thirty some years later he stared at that same kid affectionately on the roof of his law firm in downtown New York City.

“I’ll give you this, Dean, you are a hell of a cook,” Sam said, chewing.

“Glad I can impress.”

“It's a long way from Winchester Surprise.”

“Hey! You liked macaroni and cheese with marshmallows. I never once heard you complain,” Dean said dismissively.

Sam shrugged and smiled softly. “You did your best with what you had.”

“I tried.” Dean looked out to the city. It was getting cooler as autumn crept into view. “How’re things going, Sammy?” he asked, his eyes flickering back to his brother. “You got an asshole for a partner on this case? He leavin’ you to do all the work?”

“I’m not sure what’s going on with her,” Sam said pointedly.

Dean nodded knowingly. “Sorry for assuming. Is she an asshole, then?” He grinned widely at his brother.

“No. She’s…” Sam sighed and Dean's eyebrows shot up in response. Furrowed brows, sad lips, and pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew that damn look.

“You like her.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen that look before, Sam. The only time you get this bent out of shape is when you’re in deep.”

“I’m not…” Sam began, but when he locked eyes with his brother, his resolve dissipated. His face fell into his hands and he let out an exacerbated groan. “I am in deep. I’m in love with her, Dean, and I really don’t know what to do about it.”

Looking at his brother made Dean soften significantly. “Ah, man. Have you told her? You should probably tell her how you feel.”

“She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Sure she does! You’re a goddamn catch!”

“I don’t know, Dean. It’s always been so physical with her. She’s so… focused on anything else but us. Plus, she’s pissed at me.”

“What did you do? Can you fix it?”

Sam shrugged half-heartedly. “I… I’m trying to fix it. She’s mad that I was chosen as primary on this case. They picked me over her, and I insisted that she should work with me on it. Isn’t that worth something?”

Dean thought about Y/N then, and her devastation over losing her own role in her job to a man. Normally, Dean would’ve been completely on his brother's side, but after meeting her his perspective had changed significantly. “Have you considered her side of things? I don’t know, man, sometimes I don’t think we realize how easy we’ve got it. Not that your job is easy… I just mean that our gender doesn’t make it harder.”

“I guess,” Sam said, squirming in his seat a bit. “I work really hard, and I hate that she discounts it. I also see why she’s pissed, though. It’s so complicated.” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

His baby brother was going through something, but if Dean learned anything from Y/N it’s that this is worth learning. “Be honest with her, consider her feelings and think about the fact that she has to work twice as hard to be considered in a room that you and I can just walk into. The world isn’t fair, Sammy. I know that much at least.”

“Where is this all coming from?”

He could feel his cheeks heat. “I may have met someone, too.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean said dismissively.

“Like what?” Sam asked, feigning innocence.

“Like you’re expecting me to start braiding your hair and gossiping about a crush.”

“You’re blushing, Dean. I’ve never seen you like that, not even with Lisa. I’m just saying… I’m happy for you. Whoever she is, I hope she makes you happy. I hope she isn’t as complicated as what I’m going through. You deserve a happy ending, man.”

“It hasn’t been long enough to even begin to think about an ending, happy or otherwise.” But he secretly hoped she was his happy ending, too.

“You should tell her how you feel, too,” Sam said, nodding to his brother. “You do it, and I will, too.”

“It always has to be a competition with you,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “Some things never change.” He grinned widely.

“Fine. I’ll tell her.” He would’ve told her anyway. It was never a secret.

Her

Y/N walked around New York. She had a lot to think about, and it was taking over her mind; she was drowning in it all. The idea of quitting, leaving it all behind had crawled into her mind and made a home there. It burrowed in deeply and dug its claws in. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had to make a change. When she walked Lisa back to her studio she saw all of the women gearing up for their yoga class. The image now lived in her mind rent free.

She watched them, knowing who they were, but not daring to make any assumptions. They were survivors. Each one of them had survived some kind of violence, an attack by someone they didn’t know and sometimes, someone they knew far too well. Y/N knew from her women’s study classes in college that one in four women were assaulted in their lifetime and despite the fact that less than two percent of reports are false, only six in approximately one-thousand rapes resulted in incarceration. When she heard the numbers for the first time she wrote them down in her notebook and taped the page to her dorm room wall. She wouldn’t end up one of those numbers, and she didn’t. Her friends did, though - more than one.

Watching the women stretch and laugh and heal in front of her, everything clicked together. That's what she wanted to do. She wanted to help the women who were hurt. She wanted to be a shining light in the darkness because anyone who wanted to share their story deserved to do so without being terrified. It would be hard, but she could do it. She knew she could.

She couldn’t wait to tell Dean all about it.

Y/N rushed home to change her clothes before she went to find him. It was late in the day now, so he was either leaving work or headed there. She assumed that she didn’t have a lot of time to change clothes and get her head wrapped around her decision. She was so in her thoughts that she almost ran over the man sitting on her stoop.

“Oh my gosh I’m so…” Her voice caught in her throat as a pair of green eyes flickered up to her under full eyelashes.

Dean.

She must’ve exhaled out his name because he grinned widely up at her, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Y/N,” he said, her name was rough and quiet on his lips, and she felt her knees weaken.

“I was just coming to see you,” she admitted.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

She rolled her eyes. God, he was annoying. God, he was beautiful.

“I was going to change first.” She lifted her arms and gestured to her abnormally lax outfit.

“Why?” he asked, standing up. Since he was on a step above her he looked even taller than normal, and she honestly hadn’t thought that was possible. “You look great the way you are.”

“I’m…” She almost said she wasn’t comfortable like this, but that wasn’t true. She was comfortable, but the idea of comfort in fashion had been ripped from her bleeding fingers at such a young age she’d never even considered that the two words could live together in harmony. “Thank you.”

“Why were you looking for me?” His finger brushed a hair behind her ear, sending chills up her neck.

“I wanted to tell you something.”

Dean’s thumb moved from her earlobe down her jaw. “Mmm. What’s that?”

They were unintentionally scooting closer, and she hadn't realized it until their chests brushed. “I…” Her head was spinning. She couldn't focus with him that close to her. He smelled like he’d been cooking, and it made her want to curl in even closer to him. He was intoxicating.

“You…” He prompted with a wry grin.

Focus, Y/N. “I’m going to quit my job.” The words spilled out of her lips quickly and unplanned.

“You’re going to… what?” He moved to back away from her, his pupils wide in shock.

She stopped him by resting her hands on his hips. “I’m not being impulsive,” she promised. “I’m not an impulsive person. I just… I’m not happy. This isn’t what I want.” Her eyes stung as she thought about all she’d worked for. She climbed and crawled her way up, and she hated every second of it.

His expression softened, and his thumb traced her bottom lip. “What’re you going to do then?”

“I think I’m going to start a nonprofit practice to help survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence. Survivors don’t always want to come forward, but I think if there are lawyers who focus on that side of the law that maybe they’ll feel more comfortable. I just… I want to make a difference. I don’t want to give up on my dreams, but what I’ve been doing isn’t my dream.”

She didn’t realize she hadn’t been looking at him until her eyes flickered up. He was grinning widely, his white teeth shining down at her. “That suits you.”

“How would you know?” She asked, sarcasm weak in her voice. It did suit her, after all.

“Because I’m always right. It’ll be way easier for you if you learn that now.”

“Oh?” He nodded quickly. “Yup.”

“So, why are you on my steps, Dean?”

“Oh, are these your steps?” he asked, feigning sheepish confusion.

Y/N met him with an unimpressed glare, and he laughed in response.

“I’m here for this,” he whispered huskily before pulling her chin up to his and pressing a hot, urgent kiss on her lips. “I’m proud of you,” he breathed the words into her mouth, pushing life back into her.

She didn’t need him to be proud of her, because she was proud of herself. She threw her arms around his shoulders and stood on her tiptoes to ease the bend of his neck and kissed him back feverishly. She murmured his name into the kiss, and his arms tightened around her.

The world around them melted away in an instant. He came to kiss her, and he was the first person that she wanted to tell about her decision. There was something happening between them, something far beyond their control, something cosmic. His hands traveled down her back and deepened the kiss, his tongue running along her bottom lip.

A whine escaped her lips, one that would normally embarrass her endlessly, but in that moment she couldn’t care less. She opened her mouth to taste him and god he tasted amazing. His tongue was warm and soft, and she pressed fully flush against him. She wanted to be as close to him as humanly possible.

He groaned into her mouth and cupped her ass in his hands, squeezing it gently. Her skin prickled under her leggings under his touch, the space between her legs throbbing with want. She nipped at his bottom lip, causing him to squeeze her tighter, more insistently.

The sky rumbled with a new round of thunder, but they ignored it.

“Get a room!” Someone shouted at them as they walked by, causing them to pull apart briefly, laughing to each other breathlessly.

“Sorry,” Dean grunted, waving at the passerby apologetically. His freckled cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen. She grinned at the sight.

“I have a room,” she said quickly.

His eyebrows shot up, and his lips tugged into a grin. “Lead the way.”

She pushed past him, but he kept his hands on her possessively as she fiddled with the keys. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Dean,” she warned. “I can’t focus with you doing that.”

“Doing what?” he asked innocently, his voice rumbling against her. He nipped at her skin tenderly and she groaned, feebly attempting to wiggle out of his grip.

The lock clicked, and she swung the door open immediately. They needed to get upstairs now. The door shut behind them, and Dean pulled her back into his arms, spinning her and planting a needy kiss on her mouth. His mouth was hot and urgent. She sighed against him and melted within his arms. She wasn’t strong enough to resist him, to resist this. Plus, she’d decided to keep doing the things that made her happy, and this made her the happiest she’d felt in awhile.

He toyed with the bottom of her sweatshirt with deft fingers, making her stomach flip. His hands slid up the back of the sweatshirt, his fingers trailing her spine before settling between her shoulder blades. A small gasp escaped his lips, and she felt him smile into the kiss. Before she even had a chance to question the exchange, she remembered that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She tugged him toward the elevator, blindly feeling for the button to take them up to her floor before she was topless in the lobby. The elevator dinged, and the sound rang like a bell in her mind, bouncing off of her skull. She placed her hands on his chest and walked them backwards into the open elevator. “Dean…” She said his name weakly before peeling them apart long enough to turn and press the button to her floor.

Instead of releasing her, he moved one hand to the front of her, running his calluses over the soft skin of her breast. Her nipple perked up immediately, and she whimpered. If someone had told her three months prior that a man would make her whimper she would’ve laughed in their faces, but there she was, making whiny, weak noises. She came completely undone as his fingers tweaked her already-hard nipple. He spun her around and pressed her back to the wall with a low growl, reaching with a free hand for the big, red emergency stop button to halt the elevator.

Dean’s hands were back on her in a second, working her sweatshirt over her head and tossing it away. He looked at her hungrily, his bottom lip trembled. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

“What?” she asked breathlessly, suddenly nervous under his gaze.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His mouth was back on hers before she could consider objecting. He kissed her lips, her jaw, down her neck, between her breasts, and took her nipple between his lips, sucking eagerly. Her back arched automatically in response. She closed her eyes, completely taken over by the heat of his mouth on her, and his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin.

His eyes flickered open, and he looked up at her through his eyelashes, her breast still in his mouth. She thought she was going to pass out from the sight of his eyes heavy with desire, staring up at her. She wanted to pull his mouth back up to her, but when she tugged at his shoulders he released her and grinned. He flicked his tongue against her nipple again eliciting a groan from her, and trailed his tongue between her breast and down her stomach, leaving tantalizing kisses along the exposed skin at the waistband of her leggings.

Y/N looked down at him with wide eyes. He wouldn’t, not in the public elevator. Regardless of whether or not it was stopped and no one could come in, he surprised her again by curling his fingers around the waist of her leggings and kissing the newly bare skin as he rolled them down her hips, exposing her thong.

Oh god, I’m in trouble.

Her face was hot as she stood before him practically naked, and he looked at her hungrily. “Dean,” she said his name again weakly, and he looked up at her. The sight of him kneeling in front of her was almost too much to handle.

“This okay?”

Is it?

In reality, she didn’t see why not. There wasn’t a camera in the elevator of the old building, she knew that much. She wanted his mouth on her so badly that she could barely think. Why would she say no?

He pressed a gentle kiss to her hip bone. “I need you to say yes to keep going. I’m not going to ravish you in an elevator without hearing the word come out of your lips, sweetheart.”

Ravish you.

Oh god, she was going to pass out.

She nodded quickly, giving in to her desires for once in her goddamned life.

“I need to hear it,” he said with a quiet growl. “Say the word, and I’m at your mercy.” “Yes, damn it!” She heard herself say, her voice strained with desire, a wetness pooling between her legs that would normally embarrass her.

“Thank fucking god,” he purred before placing a hot kiss right at her core through the lace, and her knees immediately went weak. She had no idea how she was going to keep herself upright, so she grabbed blindly for the handrails.

Just breathe, Y/N. Breathe.

---

Chapter Ten - COMING SOON

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themoonandotherslikeit · 2 years

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Painted - Chapter Seven

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Y/N has moved on, her scars are barely noticeable anymore, and she’s finally stable. Or at least she was. 10 years after the worst day of her life, Y/N found herself staring face to face with an unimaginable horror. In the wake of her worst nightmare come to life, she finds herself reunited with the man that saved her all those years ago - Agent Dean Winchester who had left her a decade before broken and wanting. Dean Winchester has spent the last 10 years trying desperately to forget Y/N and the tragedy that he pulled her out of, but when she called asking for his help he dropped everything to come to her aid as he knew he always would. Can Y/N and Dean solve the mystery that has resurfaced after all this time? Will they be able to resist the pull between them? Or will this be the final brush strokes on a canvas, sealing their fate for good?

Pairing: Dean/Reader Tags: Dark!Fic, Agent!Dean, Serial Killer Fic, Smut etc. Thank you for always supporting my whims. Beta'd by the lovely@dean-winchesters-bacon

Chapter Seven

10 years ago

Her heart was racing as she scrambled back. A woman laid there on her back, an expression of horror frozen in her bluing lips and milky, dead eyes. Y/N was going to throw up. Her skin was almost translucent as Y/N’s eyes settled on the gaping gashes in her wrists. The worst part, as if there could be anything worse than what was already staring at her, the woman looked just like her.

Oh god. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel other than the paralyzing horror that was encompassing her entire being. She whimpered and covered her mouth, unable to look away. Did Lucifer know? Did he do this?

Pain and nausea twisted at her gut like a knife in her stomach. She had to do something, but her legs were boneless beneath her.

There was no other explanation for what she was seeing. The naked woman sprawled out in front of her certainly wasn’t a homeless person who crawled in here to die of natural causes. It wasn’t an accident. The only option that could absolve Lucifer of his guilt was the slim possibility that she stripped down and slit her wrists to die here in his studio as some kind of stilted lover.

The only thing that kept her from holding onto hope was the lack of pooled blood underneath her pale arms. She didn’t die in the spot she was laying, which meant that someone moved her. Only one person had a key to the studio as far as she was aware.

She was going to be sick.

The room spun, tilting on its axis almost immediately as a rumbling voice came from behind her. His voice used to excite her, make her hair stand on end, and her legs weak. But now? When she heard the deep timbre of Lucifer’s voice her mouth went dry.

“I really wish you hadn't done this, Y/N.”

So did she.

Present

The hot water came down on Y/N’s face, and it hurt. The heat burned her skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn the temperature down. What did she do to deserve all of the bullshit that was going on in her life? Did she not do enough good? Or did God just really not care? The ache in her chest was unbearable, and she gasped out for air, realizing then that salty tears mixed with the hot water from the shower-head.

She pressed both of her hands to the steam-covered tile wall. It was almost too damn much to handle. Lucifer was a monster that she understood, but to see another creature with the same sharp teeth and a fucking paint brush was just too much. She yearned for stability, for a strength that she truly didn’t think she possessed on her own. She needed so much more than what she had. She swallowed hard.

She had moved past it. Or so she thought.

In another life, she would’ve been excited to see Dean Winchester show up at her home. She would’ve wrapped her arms around him and kissed him to show her how much she missed him after all of the time they spent apart. He would’ve been in the shower with her, running his protective hands over her skin.

But it was this life, and in this life she was broken. In this life she spent so much time fighting to grow beyond her fears and concerns, but all of that was unraveled in a matter of days. In a matter of moments, seconds. The second she saw the fingernails stuck in the painting she lost a piece of herself. It wasn’t a piece that she could replace with Dean, but she wanted to try. The strength of his hands and warmth of his heart could fill the empty cracks within her soul.

She wanted him to fill them, but how could she possibly ask him to give up a part of himself to her when she knew there was hardly anything left for her to give? She thought she was okay. She thought she was past the trauma.

Apparently not so much.

Y/N leaned against the door, gasping for breath. She was losing it. The scars she tried so hard to hide seemed pinker and puffier than ever. The image of the first body she’d seen flashed in her mind, burned into her eyelids like she was staring too hard at the sun. Closing her eyes didn’t help.

She could’ve easily been that girl if Dean hadn’t shown up, and now he was back again. She always imagined what it would be like when he arrived, and what they could be. Her knees were weak as she realized they never could. She’d never have a normal life, a normal relationship. Even if they caught who was terrorizing her, with every girl who dies because of her she loses another piece of herself. How could anyone love her after that? How could she let them?

His voice floated past the roar of water against porcelain, against skin. Her name on his lips asking if she was okay. She couldn’t respond, not with words, just with a sob and a cracking pain that was so overwhelming that she honestly wasn’t sure if she could breathe.

“How can I help?” His voice was full of pain, too.

She was crying, and it may be far more than Dean Winchester could handle. She pressed her palm to the frosted glass of the shower, and he pressed his against it, too, their fingers brushing through the glass.

He wouldn’t have gone into the bathroom while she showered normally, but the shower had been running for a long time, and he was starting to worry that something happened to her. Turns out something had, just not something that he could see. The shape of her body through the glass told a story. Her shoulders were hunched over, and her hands braced herself. They appeared to be the only thing keeping her upright. He wanted to yank open the glass and pull her into his arms, but he knew it would cross a line. He needed her to ask. He needed her to say yes.

But he knew she wouldn’t. After all of this time he knew that much at least.

“Tell me how I can help you,” he pleaded quietly, curling his fingers against the glass.

“You can’t,” she whispered, but there was something else in her voice… something that felt like change, like a glimmer of something else.

“I can if you’ll let me,” he said softly, falling to his knees at the same time she did.

“How? How can I let you? How can I trust that you’ll stay?” Her voice was barely audible, trembling.

“Leaving you was the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he admitted, his voice filled with pain that he’d worked so damn hard to hide. But he couldn’t lie to her anymore. He didn’t have it in him. “I don’t want to ever leave you again.”

Her eyes flickered up then, he could tell by the color change behind the glass. It was all that he needed to see. He slid open the door slowly, giving her the opportunity to change her mind, but she didn’t say anything to stop him or back away. He reached up and plucked a towel from the rack near the shower and placed it on his thighs.

She was curled in a ball with her knees pulled to her chest. Her wet hair was matted to her head. He reached around her, through the hot water and turned it off. Then he took the towel and wrapped it around her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he told her.

Her eyes flickered to him, but she didn’t speak. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, cracking his chest further. He wrapped the white towel around her shoulders, covering her damp skin. He lowered himself to her eye level, and he asked her, “Can you stand?”

Her mouth opened slightly like she was going to speak, but no words came out.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

She gave a quick nod, a minuscule movement with her chin. It was all the consent he needed to slide his hand under her knee, his other pressed against her back as he lifted her. He cradled her against his chest protectively, and as he lifted her, she sucked her breath in.

Dean walked them into the bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed, toweling off her damn skin. Her eyes seemed to lock on him then, and even though she was the one naked in front of him, he felt extremely exposed under her gaze. He ran the towel along her arms, tenderly patting the tattoos dry, remembering all too vividly where the scars beneath them were from.

Y/N was watching him. Maybe what they were doing wasn’t appropriate, but she couldn’t look away. She hadn’t realized she was breaking until she was in a thousand pieces on the floor of the bathtub. The air was cold, but she didn’t feel it because Dean’s breath was on her skin. He worked to dry her off, but the pressure of his fingers with only the towel between them set her skin on fire. Maybe she was looking for a distraction from her pain and grief, or maybe she was just desperate to feel something good, something that wasn’t painful.

“Dean,” she exhaled a breath, and his eyes shot up to hers.

“Are you okay?” He asked quickly, nervously.

She wanted to kiss him, to be kissed by him.

She also wanted to cry, and it bubbled in her chest threateningly.

He let go of the towel and his hands shot to her face, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “Sweetheart don’t cry,” he pleaded quietly. “You’re safe here. I’ll protect you.”

Without thinking too deeply about it, her arms flew around his shoulders, and she pulled him into a tight hug. She nuzzled into his neck. “I want that to be true,” she murmured against his skin.

Dean hesitated for just a moment before wrapping her in a hug. He settled between her legs, and in any other circumstance she would’ve been embarrassed by the fact that she was practically exposed to him. But he wasn’t focused on that. He just held her, his own face buried in her wet hair. He murmured comforting statements against her scalp.

She let him comfort her for what seemed like an eternity, until she was finally able to calm her breathing, to match the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his pulse pressed firmly against her temple.

When they finally peeled themselves apart she only let him move back enough to fully look at her. “We should get you dressed,” he said quietly, his face examining hers. Her eyes flickered to his shirt at the end of the bed where she left it and nodded quickly, releasing him from her grip.

He grabbed the shirt, and when she didn’t immediately reach for it he opted to slowly slip it over her head. She slid her arms in and the scent of him hit her like a wave of familiarity. She wanted to bottle the smell and drown herself in it. It smelled safe. The shirt was huge on her, and it pooled on her lap, making the towel a little pointless. She crawled back, leaving the damp towel behind and crawled into the sheets.

Maybe he didn’t plan on her sleeping in his bed, but if she was honest, she was way too exhausted to move again. Plus, his scent enveloped her here, and she definitely wasn’t ready to let it go. Once she was settled in she glanced at him. He was gripping the towel in his fist, white knuckled, and staring at her with wide eyes.

“Should I…”

She shook her head and scooted over. “Stay.”

It was a simple request, a quiet demand. She didn’t know what she would do if he said no.

But she didn’t have to find out because he didn’t. He draped the towel over his dresser. She threw the comforter back, making space for him. She wanted him near her. She needed to feel his warmth in the same proximity as her. He clicked off the light and walked to her slowly. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of his shape coming closer, and then the shift in the mattress as he crawled into bed next to her.

Dean laid on his side facing her. They were nose to nose, only a few inches apart. She reached out her foot to brush the cloth on his shin. “I didn’t want to be falling apart when I saw you again,” she admitted. “I don’t want you to think this is my default state.”

“I don’t,” he assured her.

Something worried her, though. She was always concerned that her falling apart was what he liked about her. She worried that he liked being the hero and that's why he left last time. He left when she was getting better. She wanted to ask him, but she didn't have the strength to take an answer that wasn’t the one she wanted. So she didn’t ask him.

“Didn’t think when you finally saw me naked that’s what it’d be like.”

“I didn’t see anything, Y/N.”

She was surprised by that. “Really?”

“Was too busy lookin’ at your face to see anything else.”

“Hmm.” She wasn’t sure how to take his words, so she opted to take them at face value.

“What?” He was whispering, and she supposed she was, too. It felt a little like they were breaking the rules.

“I was just thinking about how things would’ve been different if we’d met at a bar or a coffee shop.”

“How do you think?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Maybe we’d still be in bed together, but I wouldn’t be the only one half dressed.” Her cheeks immediately heated up from her statement, but in the darkness it felt easy to be bold. Plus, what else did she have to lose when her life was already falling through her fingers?

“Would you… want that?”

His breath tickled her lips as she asked, and she found herself nodding, which she wasn’t even sure he could see in the dark.

But he must have because he rolled onto his back and she heard the sound of fabric being pulled down and discarded.

Holy shit. That would definitely be a good distraction.

She reached her toes forward again and pressed them to his bare skin. “Shit, your toes are freezing.”

“Warm me up then,” she whispered.

He grunted and slid an arm underneath her, pulling her against him and tangling her legs in with his. “We can’t sleep together,” he warned quietly.

“You don’t want to?” Her voice came out embarrassingly small.

“It wouldn’t be right,” he whispered, twisting his fingers in her hair. “Not right now.”

She pressed her cheek on his chest and nodded. She knew he was right, even if it broke her heart to hear it. “What if the time is never right?”

Dean’s arms tightened around her in response to her question. “Let’s not worry about that right now, okay? We’re safe and together. That’s all that matters.”

Y/N propped herself on her elbows and looked down at him, her hair creating a curtain around them. She opened her mouth to object to his statement, and tell him that there was a hell of a lot more that mattered, but looking down at him in the darkness told her that she was a fool. He was right. Dean Winchester was beneath her, and his skin was on hers; yes the world was a dark and horrible place, but he was there. That meant something.

That meant everything.

——

Chapter Eight- COMING SOON

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