aging like good cheese or fine wine

The Girl

He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her. It was her, it was really and truly her. Almost a decade had gone by since he last laid eyes on her and she looked as beautiful as ever.

  She was Y/N. His Y/N.

  He swallowed hard. She was definitely going to see him, she was the only waitress on the clock by the looks of things. She would have to come over and take their order. What was he going to say to her after almost ten years of being gone? Would she understand that he left to protect her? Would she still hate him as much as he hated himself for leaving her behind? She was the best part of him. She made him happy. 

  “Welcome to Julia’s, what can I get for you- wait, Dean?” her voice cracked. He could hear her breathing hitch the second she laid eyes on him. He smiled softly. Her eyes were as bright as he remember. 

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he breathed out. “’s been awhile.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “awhile indeed. What can I get for you and your friend?”

  “Coffee, and a bacon cheese burger for me and for my brother, Sam,” he paused.

  “I’ll take a coffee and your garden salad,” Sam stated, smiling awkwardly.  Dean knew he was wondering what was going on. 

  “Y/N, will you sit with us?” Dean asked kindly. 

  “I’ve gotta work, Dean.”

  “Take a break, join us.”

  “Okay, but only because it will wipe that goofy looking grin off your face, Winchester,” she giggled. “You look good, Dean.”

  “Not as good as you look, sweetheart.”

  “Yes, but not all of us age like fine wine,” she laughed.

  “Alright, that is my cue to get out of here. You two clearly have history and need some time to catch up so I will be back at the motel,” Sam stood up, shaking his head with the widest smile on his face. 

  “So Y/N, what time do you get off?” he asked nervously. 

  “I get off whenever you-”

  “Whoa, okay,” he laughed. “I mean work. I guess I’ve got a lot of explaining to do before I get you off.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Dean Winchester,” she smile genuinely. “I can meet you out back in fifteen.”

  “I’ll pull the impala around,” he stated.

  “Oh and Dean!” she called out. “I missed you!”

Keep reading

the-megalosaurus  asked:

i know you're not on the sam/max train or anything but if dean did hook up with tasha that would certainly make things... interesting for sam and max ahahaha (SAMMY I'M YOUR NEW STEPDAD) (DEAN NO)

(oh lord Jess) 


Sam and Max aren’t–a thing. At least, Sam’s… pretty sure they’re not a thing. He’s not really positive, either way. Max is only six years younger than him but somehow it seems like a whole generation’s between them, especially when Sam picks up his phone and there’s a random string of emojis that he truly doesn’t understand. He tried Urban Dictionary for one text and got nowhere, or at least nowhere helpful; a test post on reddit was met with a string of puns and then a deeply confusing set of responses, which he also Googled, and ended up so red-faced at the results that Dean asked if he was having a heart attack, or something. Flirting aside, he and Max kissed once, and then two months later exchanged a flurry of flirty texts, and they still haven’t actually… done anything. Sam doesn’t know if Max is even really interested, or if he’s really all that interested, but it’s sort of fun, regardless.


“You cannot sleep with Tasha,” Sam hisses, pulling Dean out into the hallway.

Dean raises affronted eyebrows, but he’s not bothering to hide his grin. “How dare you,” he says, all wide and toothy. “We are just having a pleasant, adult conversation, and it is a–an affront that you think–”

“You’re the worst person I know,” Sam says, glancing back through the open doorway. Max tips his wine glass Sam’s way, with a tiny smile that shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is, and Sam tries to smile back, but Tasha’s looking their way, too. Dean’s way, anyway. “Seriously. Isn’t she, like, Mom’s age?”

Dean’s grin flickers for a second. “Ugh, don’t talk about Mom in the same breath as–” He shudders, exaggeratedly, but then glances over his shoulder and finds Tasha smiling at him. He winks at her, all shame instantly gone, and then turns a serious look on Sam. “I’m not an ageist, Sammy. I am surprised at you, really. All ladies deserve to have a good time, no matter how–”

“Old?” Sam cuts in.

“–matured,” Dean continues, unruffled. He lifts his wine glass. “Like a fine wine.”

“Or a cheese,” Sam mutters, and folds his arms over his chest.

“See? I love cheese.” Dean’s grin goes wicked. “What, you worried that I’m going to cut into your date?”

“What? What date?”

Dean snorts. “Like the bartender’s real. You are not nearly as sneaky as you think you are, Sammy.” Sam opens his mouth, closes it. “Yeah. This is like that time in Duluth where you thought you were keeping your little middle-school girlfriend a secret. I can see right through you, baby bro.”

Sam pokes him in the chest. “Don’t–be weird, okay, it’s not–”

“No, no!” Dean says, expansive. He claps Sam on the shoulder. “I think it’s cute, you know? Me and your new mother-in-law will be very proud. You kids just be sure to use protection, and don’t come home too late, okay? I think we’ll be setting a curfew.” He glances again at Tasha and then starts to back up into the room, making a delighted face at Sam, whispering, “But not too early, either, you know? Mama and I need some private time.”

Dean’s gone and back in the room before Sam can smack him. Max glances his way, inquisitive, and Sam hopes that his weird shudder of revulsion doesn’t show on his face. He steps back into the room and picks up his wineglass, keeping his eyes turned well away from where Dean’s very obviously flirting with the mother of his–maybe-booty-call. He takes a deep swallow of wine. Maybe he can bring himself to kill Dean. Sure, they’re soulmates, but some things shouldn’t need to be borne.