Summary: Dean Winchester didn’t know what having a home felt like. Not until he met her, anyway.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester (briefly)
Word count: 1418
Warnings: This is pure, unadulterated fluff (with tiny, light references to sex because Dean can’t help himself, okay?)
Author’s Note: This is my submission for @atari-writes‘ Birthday Challenge. Amber, thank you so, so much for letting me participate and granting me an extension for this. I’m glad I took my time with it because I kind of love how it turned out.
My prompt for this were “I hate to see you leave but love to watch you go. ‘Cause of your butt.” from The Office and “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this…” from Parks And Recreation.
Dean isn’t sure he knows what having a home feels like.
He remembers he used to have one, of course, back when the monsters and the demons weren’t a part of his life, but that was ruined the moment they killed his mother and burned his childhood to the ground, and he’s certain that he wouldn’t want to go back, even if he could.
He never settled after that, never stayed in one place long enough to call it home, but that doesn’t matter anyway, because, to him, home isn’t really a place. He has heard the sayings, after all, knows that, for most people, home is where the heart is.
That’s the thing though; Dean is not most people and he doesn’t believe love’s something that can be measured. His heart, he knows, is not at one place; it’s strapped to his brother’s existence, but there are parts of it, bloody and weathered, that have stayed with his parents, and others that belong to the friends he’s come to consider family, both the ones he’s lost and the ones that are still around.
So, yeah, perhaps Dean has many homes but it never feels like it, never feels like he truly belongs somewhere other than the Impala. There, holding the steering wheel, with the scent of leather and whiskey and dry blood filling his senses and a classic rock song blasting through the speakers, he feels free.
And yet, there’s something missing.
He can feel it in moments like this, moments when he’s returning back to the bunker with his brother after a fun night out because everything around him is still and nobody needs saving, and he wants to feel happy, wants to feel content and at peace, but he can’t.
And then, he sees her.
She’s fallen asleep on the sofa, dressed in that ridiculous cable-knit cardigan of his that she seems to love, the book she’d been reading for the past few weeks still in her hand and she’s so beautiful and stunningly innocent in that moment, so vulnerable and strong all at once, that he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.
“You’re disgustingly in love with her.” Sam announces, barely able to contain his amusement when the tips of his brother’s ears flush pink. “You know that, right?”