“I can touch you now.” I reached up and drew my hand gently down his temple, his ear, the cheek and jaw that I could see. My hand went to the nape of his neck, under the clubbed bronze hair, and he raised his head at last, and cupped my face between his hands, love glowing strong in the dark blue eyes.
“Dinna be afraid,” he said softly. “There’s the two of us now.”
Can I trust my eyes
They have lied to me before
In the forest at dusk
At night when I lay in fitful sleep
I swear it was her voice I heard
Her name drifting down to me
A forgotten peace
Settling upon my weary heart
And thru my tears I know
It is true
She has found me
A/N: Here’s my Coffee Shop AU with Barista!Sam for @luci-in-trenchcoats Michelle’s AU & Things Challenge. This was fun, but I don’t know how to summarize without giving too much away. Enjoy some tattooed Sam and Tattoo Artist Dean with plenty of coffee. Many thanks to my pal @idreamofhazel for the beta read on this one. I hope you enjoy it!
*Don’t forget, I love feedback and constructive criticism!!
Walking into the coffee shop, you take a deep breath when the scent of freshly roasted coffee hits you. A quick glance behind the counter confirms that he’s there, and your mouths curves against your best efforts into a restrained smile.
“Good morning, Sam,” your voice turns into a shy drawl.
“Morning!” he calls from behind the espresso machine. “I’ve got a good one for you today.”
“Yup,” he flashes you a teasing smirk before going back to watching his work. His hair hangs loose around his jaw, the ends curling just a bit. Your eyes are drawn, as always, to the vivid designs that creep up his shirtsleeves and out of his low collar.
Does anyone else wish they’d just dedicate a whole episode to Sam and Dean shopping for their disguises? How does it work exactly? Dean driving around, looking for a store in whatever random ass town they’re in, with a scowl, “What the hell does a social worker even wear?”
Sam shrugging, “I don’t know, man, cardigans?”
“Really, Sam? Cardigans? What am I, Mr. Rogers?”
“Kids like Mr. Rogers.”
“You liked Mr. Rogers,” Dean huffs, squinting as he looks for any sign of a store. “Where the fuck are we supposed to get cardigans?”
“How the hell should I know? Woolworths? Is that still a thing?”
Dean muttering as they walk around the mall, dodging teenagers, and trying to find anything that resembles a cardigan, “I’m too old for this bullshit.”
Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?
A/N: I’m a sucker for these “fake relationship” stories ;))
Y/N pulls the phone from her ear, her frustration drawn out in the creases in her brow.
“Well?” Dean asks, sat opposite her at the library table. Before him lies an open lore book, on a page about Nordic gods and how to kill them, and his cup of coffee sits dangerously close to the irreplaceable relic. With Sam out doing some shopping, it’s just the two of them at home, trying to dig up some info that might be useful for future use.
Pinching her brow, the young girl shakes her head, waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“Yes.” She says, trying to sound convincing, but its of no use, because the elder Winchester has known her long enough to see past her facades.
Living together for nearly five years now, calling her his best-friend even feels like an understatement. They got to know each other a while back through a hunt involving a Tulpa in California; Y/N’s kill, but the boy’s happened to jump in on it and help out. Surprise surprise: a friendship sparked, and ever since then, the relationship has flourished greatly.
To Dean, Y/N is family, just like Cas or Charlie or any of the other members of their little rehabilitation program they’ve picked up over the years. And with that, he knows—well enough—that despite her efforts to dismiss it, something is nudging at her mind.
“Obviously not. You seem like you’re about to explode. What is it?” He shuts the book and leans forward. Y/N still looks exasperated; still tries to act like she isn’t, and fails terribly. When she finally lifts her gaze, her expression is that of defeat.
“It’s my sister.” She says mournfully. “She’s calling me about her wedding coming up this month, and wants to know if I’ve been signed up to the family news letter that allows me to see all the updates on things like which floral arrangement we’re going to have. Surprise surprise—I’m not.”
“Damn.” Dean says plainly, still not seeing the reason behind her chagrin. Y/N rolls her eyes at him, trying to look annoyed, but the smile that she suppresses says otherwise.
A sardonic laugh escapes her. “Yeah, damn indeed.” She rises from her seat, downing her coffee. Dean glances at his, then stretches it across to her. She finishes it in a single glug.
“So….what now?” He leans back in the chair. “You don’t know the floral arrangements? Doesn’t sound so bad.”
“I don’t know anything about this wedding, Dean. I don’t know where it’s gonna be, I don’t know who’s gonna be there, and—until I few seconds ago—I didn’t know I’m going to have to be in Boston next week. S/P/N mentioned it in the newsletter but….” Her voice drifts off and she folds her lips into a straight-line, shrugging.
“What’s in Boston?”
“The wedding, apparently. Who even gets married in Boston? Yuck.” Y/N scowls.
“Your sister, apparently.” He almost rolls his eyes. “Right, so…go to Boston. Show up for the rehearsal, see your family, have fun, and then get back here once everything’s done.”
Dean explains it like it’s so easy. To him, it is. Wedding prepping can’t take more than three weeks, can it….? He wouldn’t know. He’s never had the chance to even be part of a wedding, but he assumes that that’s an appropriate estimate.
But, from the way Y/N bites her lip and averts her gaze to the floor, a look teetering between guilt and embarrassment on her face, maybe he’s wrong.
“Yeaahhh….” She draws out, skeptically. “Uhm…about that. It’s not as easy as it sounds…”
“Uhm…?” He quirks an inquisitive brow.
“I…sorta…told them that I have a date to the wedding and,…” Y/N gestures in the air, but doesn’t finish her sentence.
Dean watches her with a knitted brow, waiting for an explanation that doesn’t come, until realizations strikes. His eyes widen and his mouth forms a little “o”.
“Yeah…” Her cheeks are dusted with a feint blush and she looks away.
Dean doesn’t want to say it, but he can’t help but think how cute it is—really cute. The only thing that can compete, he thinks, is the way her eyes disappear into her cheeks when she smiles.
As embarrassing as it is, he has almost an entire list like that about Y/N; things he thinks are adorable about her, things like her laugh, to he way she’s so awkward around big crowds, or how she has an undeniable obsession with space. Little things. Cute things. It goes on and on, infinite and growing each day, the more and more he gets to know her…but he’ll never admit that.
Because he can’t.
Because Y/N is family, and she’s just a friend.
“Well…is it like a must to bring one along? You could always just tell your family that you guys…broke up? Maybe he cheated. Maybe the love fizzled out.” Dean offers, shrugging.
Y/N looks at him with an un-amused expression. “Great thing to mention right before a wedding.”
“God, I don’t know.” Getting up from his seat, he rolls his eyes. He shuts the book and a gust if dust billows from it, then fixes it under his arm.“You’ll figure it out. It’s you.”
Y/N doesn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she looks to the floor, arms crossed over her chest.“Well,…there is something I thought about doing, but—God, I don’t know. What if, like—” She finally looks up.
Dean waits for the bombshell he knows she’s about to drop with a cautious, furrowed brow,
“—I asked Sam?” She finishes, her expression hopeful; her eyebrows are pulled together and she’s squinting slightly. The elder Winchester feels the wind get knocked out of him at hearing this.
His eyes widen. “Sam?”
“Not to actually be my date!—just to fool my family for the two weeks. Do you think he’ll go along with it?”
“I don’t get it—why don’t you just—“
“I can’t tell them I don’t have a date, because I already told them that I do. Going back on my word now will just make me look ridiculous, Dean. Just…”Y/N sighs and shuts her eyes. Dean can read the desperation in her features. He bites his lip, contemplating Y/N’s offer.
Sam, going on a date with Y/N. The idea is so ludicrous, so unbelievable that it sounds completely silly, like imagining pigs fly or anything of the nature. He can’t bring himself to even picture the two of them together, but…
He then feels something stir in his gut at the thought, a warmth, a….jealousy?No. Hopefully not. It’s been ages since these feelings have managed to surface. Now is not the time for a return. The elder Winchester quickly suffocates the feeling and averts his attention back onto his friend.
Before him she stands, imploring y/e/c eyes, a sweet smile stretched across her face and hands clasped together. She looks like a little girl, so young, so desperate. The elder Winchester doesn’t want to say no. Even if he did—with puppy eyes like those—how can you?
“So you have to have a date to this wedding?”
Dean thinks for a moment, raking his eyes over Y/N’s face that speaks mountains of uncertainty.
“You think he’ll say no, huh?”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?” Confusion floods the young girls face as she unclasps her hands. They fall to her side. Dean gulps trying to level his voice to a more confident tone.
“I’ll be your date to your sister’s wedding.” He repeats, hoping he sounds more sure than he feels. His hands go cold, throat tightening.
Y/N’s face speaks volumes of surprise. “You’d…do that?”
“You’ll really do this?” She asks eyes wide. “A whole two weeks in Boston? With my family?”
Dean shrugs. For some wild reason, his heart is pounding in his chest and his palms are sweating, and he tries to stave off all the anxiety that begins to bubble within his gut. “Yeah. Why not?”
“Dean,” Y/N’s voice is stern all of a sudden. You can tell that she’s just as taken aback by the proposal as he is, but is trying not to show it. “If you say yes to this, I don’t want you to half-ass it? This is a real big deal for me, you know?”
“Look, do you want a date to this wedding or not?”
Y/N then bites her lip, contemplating. The elder Winchester’s eyes never leave her as he watches, waiting for response, until she finally agrees.
“Okay.” She says. A small smile then twitches on her lips, and Dean can see she’s trying to suppress.
“ Okay. Awesome. I’m gonna call S/P/N and see if there’s anything more I need to know yeah?” She asks. He nods.
“Sure.” Dean says. “It’s fine with me.”
“Mhm.” He knows he is, because the smile that breaks through Y/N’s authoritative face then is something definitely worth the decision. Her cheeks indented with dimples, she smiles, shaking her head, and then walks out to make the call. On the way out, she makes sure she butts her shoulder into his, just for fun. Dean lets out a nervous chuckle.
She’s gone. The empty library is silent, and that’s when his heart starts to thud.
Over and over, like a vicious doldrums. The silence only accentuates the sound of his rapid heartbeat, as the elder Winchester allows in a deep breath. His eyes flutter shut, and the anxiety begins to melt away gradually.