I Think I Wanna Marry You...(Part 5)
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Summary: Time is running out as Y/N and Dean try and maneuver their way around this new conflict whilst keeping their cover…Easy, right?
Warnings: Swearing, mild angst; Castiel is clueless
Word count: 5k (yikes)
A/N: Way overdue, but here it is! surprise surprise: our favorite angel finally makes an appearance.
PS. Big shoutout to all my Boston-born pals. No hate, this is all purely for fictional purposes and I’m sure you guys and your town rule!
Apologies if I forgot to tag you, let me know in my inbox and I’ll be sure to in the next part.
Dean’s footsteps are thunderous thuds as he stalks down the hallway, fists bawled and jaw clenched. He makes a turn for the right, heads to the elevator that takes him to the ground floor and makes his way out onto the terrace where the party is going.
His eyes scan the perimeter in search of Sam; he’d left him in the company of Emma and Y/N’s cousin Brendon, talking about politics and nerd-things (Dean’s conclusion: yawn). Turning to the right, he spots Marilyn and Y/N’s father. The noise around him swarms his mind, clouding it, only catalyzing the agitation stewing in him. Dean scowls and then heads to an empty table by a dropping willow tree.
His footsteps crunch against the grass as he moves to take seat, and finally resting his head in his hands. He lets his eyes shut. Exhales. Sighs.
How did he get here? All he can is being sent up to get her, taking her things along with him, and then in the blink of an eyes, here he is. A labored breath leaves Dean and he sits up, leaning back in his seat. Instead, he decides, he might as well allows himself to observe the crowd for now. To recollect. Lamenting on this entire situation is out of the question—if he gives it too much attention, things could get wild in his head. Could swell larger than they need to be, and so he allows his gaze to skim the crowd, when he catches the eye of a familiar face glaring at him.
And then the elder Winchester’s jaw tenses.
Rick standing in the centre of the crowd, mingling with the
guests; Rick, despite the conversation he’s engulfed in, staring him down like
Rick coming towards him.
Mind hazy, Dean has to do a double take, squinting to make sure he’s right. And apparently he is—the dark-haired man is sauntering across the garden, a beer in hand, sporting a composed smile.
Dean waits anxiously before he approaches, halting a few feet from the table. He raises his bottle. “Pleasant evening, isn’t it? It’s a surprise to see someone spending it alone.”
“Maybe that’s what makes it so ‘pleasant’” He sneers the word as though it’s venomous, like the mere syllables cause his tongue to burn. “…because I’m alone.”
“Not gonna lie: that’s sad.”
Dean shrugs. He doesn’t know why, but apparently Rick stupidly
takes this as an acquiesce for him to join him, because he then drags a seat
out from the table and sits himself down opposite the elder Winchester.
Rick’s smile softens. “Dean, right?”
“Yeah, Y/N’s boyfriend.” Rick nods in understanding as he offers his hand. “We met—rick.”
An awkward silence befalls as Rick’s expression falters, and he shyly tucks his hand back at his side, clearing his throat. “Right.” He mumbles. “So—how are you liking everything in Boston? Y/N told me you’ve never really been well acquainted with these parts. She said you’ve only been here—once, twice?”
Dean nods. He’s not really in the mood for company; and doesn’t want them to, but for odd reason the words end up leaving him anyway. “Twice. Business trip that lasted three days and then we were outta here.”
“Never thought of coming back.” Rick asks with a quirked brow, and the elder Winchester shakes his head. “What about Y/N? No interest in seeing where she came from?”
“Why do you care?”
“I…don’t. I’m…just..making conversation.”
“Well then maybe you should stop.”
Rick’s brows shoot up in surprise.
Dean is steady and as stoic as a soldier, his expression giving away no sign of emotion. Green eyes are dead set on the hazel ones across the table, and in the air thick with a newfound tension dangles another silence
After a moment, Rick clears his throat. “So, uhm, Dean,” He continues, trying to sidestep the awkwardness. “Y/N said that you two are partners. You work together in the squad?”
“Yup.” This is getting beyond mind-numbingly boring; Dean really doesn’t like this guy. Like, really doesn’t like him. And he knows it’s untheical, and he knows he’s being petty (likes that’s new), but he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it because just because he’s somebody else for these two weeks doesn’t mean he needs to abandon his actual traits.
”That would explain how we’re partners.” He rolls his eyes, averting his gaze to the far left when all fo a sudden he notices a movement.
Then the elder Winchester’s senses heighten; drowning all peripheral sounds out, he focuses on the shift, the patter of feet, a shadow cast upon the damp ground. A large male figure. Getting closer. Closer.
“Right, I forgot.” Rick laughs casually, throwing back some beer. Wiping the corner of his mouth with his cuff, he then returns his focus to Dean who tries to look less like a hunter. “So you’re a cadet, too?”
“Uhm….” His eyes skitter. Th strange ris getting closer, his walk rigid. “Yeah…Cadet. I’ve been on the force for almost four years now.”
“That’s a lot.”
When he turns his head, much to his relief, it’s Sam. The younger Winchester walks up to the table, looks down at Dean, his long brown hair swooping around his face like a curtain.
Befuddled momentarily, Dean nods.“Yeah…”
Sam eyes him dubiously, then looks at Rick. He smiles at the younger Winchester. Turning back to his brother, Sam announces, “Cas is here.”
“He just arrived. He’s, uhm, waiting in the lobby. Says he wants to talk to you there.”
“Oh..right….” Cluelessly, the elder Winchester then casts Rick a cursory look. He inhales and stands. “Gotta go, buddy. Talk later.”
“Oh, uh—“And then they leave.
The dark-haired man, befuddled, says something, watching as the pair begin to move, but Dean is already so out of earshot that he doesn’t bother. He follows Sam through the crowd and out of the garden, into the garish lighting of the lobby.
Sat at one of the black leather couches, Cas looks around the room a few times, shifty-eyed, until his gaze rests on the elder Winchester and his panic dissolves. He pushes himself up, eyes focused on Dean.
“There you are.”
“Cas, where have you been? I left you like six voicemails.”
“I’ve been busy. Heaven’s duties, tracking Crowley, i…”The angel exhales, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry. I would have gotten here sooner.” He explains, then turns to Sam. “Where’s Y/N?”
“What are you wearing?” Dean’s eyes slide over his friend’s attire: brown khakis, a salmon button up with an orange spotted tie, and sandals. Morbid. Unethical. If Dean had a blow-torch with him, he’d set it on max and go to town.
Horrified eyes lift to Cas’ apologetic face. “Sam told me to dress
casual.” He explains.
“Yeah, casual, not train wreck.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“I could say the same about that tie—or the whole ensemble.” With
a slight repulsed face, Dean dismisses it with a shake of the head and wave of
a hand. They’re on a tight schedule.
“Come on, I think I have something you can wear. People are starting to stare.” He then ushers Cas along with him up to their bedroom, until the realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning. The elder Winchester, cursing internally, then turns to Sam.
“You have to go in there.”
“I can’t. Y/N and I, we…” He sighs and averts his gaze, desperate to sequester his embarrassment from the public eye. “We got into a fight. She wanted to me to leave, I can’t go back in there.”
“A fight about what?”
“Does it matter?” Dean snaps, and Sam’s eyes lift in surprise at his tone. “She doesn’t want me in the room. You’re going to have to get Cas’ clothes. We’ll be downstairs.”
“I could go get them.”Castiel offers.
The elder hunter shakes his head. The music from downstairs is floating all the way up here, drowning his focus. “Not looking like that. Y/N’s sad as it is, that whole outfit will just bring her down.”
“What did you do?” Sam asks.
The two speak simultaneously, Cas’ tone admonishing and Sam sounding like he’s tired of this story before he’s even heard it and Dean doesn’t have time for this. Instead of staying here to explain himself, with an indignant huff he pivots and stalks back down the hall, before suddenly bumping into someone.
He feels the smack right in his chest and winces at the contact, stepping aside as something clatters to the floor. The other person curses, and before he can even open his eyes Dean knows who it is.
“What are you doing here?”
“What does it look like?”
Y/N bends to pick up the sheets of paper on the floor. Meanwhile, Sam and Cas hurry over, they’re expressions unreadable once his gaze meet with hers.
Clutching the papers to her chest, Y/N’s face breaks out into a surprised, slightly confused smile.
“Cas…You made it!”
The angel can’t help it; his expression cracks, too, as he goes in for a brief hug. “Of course I did.” He says. The moment is cut short by Dean scoffing.
“Yeah, wait a few days and she’ll get tired fo you.” He remarks.
“You have a bone to pick, Winchester?”
Dean shrugs and looks away, pouting like a child. “Maybe…”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Sam intervenes, because Y/N looks like she’s about to knock a man’s teeth out. He looks to her and his brother, arm still keeping her a safe distance from the elder Winchester. “Man, you two are acting like kids.”
“How else do you want me to act, Sam?! Y/N’s being ridiculous about this whole thing..”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to sleep out in the hall now just because I said something that hurt your feelings?”
Y/N bites her lip to keep from spitting venom, her arms like tentacles wrapped tightly around the papers as she glares bitterly. Dean, with his eyes wild and jaw clenched once more, challenges her gaze, but it only takes a minute before he realizes something: she’s changed out of her old clothes, now sporting one of her dresses from back home reserved for the dinners.
The elder Winchester’s expression softens as his eyes slide over her frame. They rest on her face pink with anger. “You changed.”
“No shit.” Y/N spits, brow still creased, steam still puffing from her ears. Her nails at this point are digging into the papers. “I was just downstairs. I thought about what you said and realized that if I didn’t show, then they’d suspect something was up. I couldn’t risk blowing our cover.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You think I didn’t try to? It’s not my fault you were off somewhere being an ass.”
“Hey, stop it.” Sam chastises as he shoots Y/N a glare. She glances at him and then the floor, abashed.
“Well,” Cas begins, speaking up for the first time in eons. “…none of that matters now. At least Y/N managed to keep your cover. For tonight.” He glances between the two of them, emphasizing his words. “But from now on you two can’t go around acting like you’re anything less than partners. It could put this entire mission at risk.”
“Mission…”Dean scoffs. “…this is all just a big joke. I have no idea why even agreed.”
“Neither do I, jackass. I should have asked Sam.” Y/N, tears brimming in her eyes, shakes her head then shoves the papers into Sam’s chest.
“Here’s the new agenda. There’s been a change of plans. The binder says it all.” She says, before squeezing through the wall of the three men and rushing to her room, Dean’s eyes following her.
When she slams the door, the walls tremble.
The next day is a disaster. Between runs for cake samples, trips
to the florists and fittings, Y/N is forced into the presence of Dean and
company—Sam and Cas, trying their best to keep the two from fighting in front
of the family. On the brightside, so far so good. They’ve barely uttered any
profanities to the other. They’ve barely spoken overall. A few words here and
there, the occasional peck on the cheek (barf) for the sake of reputation, but
other than that they haven’t spoken.
Mainly because Y/N doesn’t want to. Because after the previous night, she wants nothing more than to avoid Dean at all costs, and it’s been hard. Impossible, almost. Without the other in sight, one of them is always hounded by the family, which makes staying mad at her sweetheart more tedious than needed.
It’s Thursday morning when they’re out on the two running some more errands. Being forced to hold hands with him as they stroll down the boulevard makes her skin seethe like a vampire in the sun. She’s angry—how can she not be?
“Easy there, anaconda. Your holding my hand not your prey.”
“Bite me.” She sneers as she slips her hand from his, jiggling it to dissolve the feeling of his calloused hands.
At one point she would have done the opposite; she’d relish the feeling of Dean’s palm against hers, crave it. There were instances where the only reasons they’d be holding hands was because Y/N wanted them to, and now all of that had vanished as fast as it came.
They pass an open bakery, an Indian restaurant perfumed by the scent of curry and then make a left. Because of the wedding being moved closer, all the planning has been catalyzed. This means that there’s a ton of activities Y/N and her folks had planned to carry out within the following days that they have to get accomplished by Saturday, and so to make things move a lot faster, they’ve been separated into groups. Bridal party A: Y/N, Castiel and the Winchesters and Bridal B which includes her mom, S/P/N, Emma and Aunt Steph. Brendon and the guys, she’s been told, are handling things back at the hotel. Seating arrangements, catering.
Their assignment? Getting the ring.
The store is a quaint white structure sandwiched between an antique parlor and restaurant, bouquets of a vast variety lining the entire wall, a colorful welcome as they scuttle in. Y/N keeps her hands in her pockets, walking a safe distance away from Dean. He probably thinks she hasn’t noticed, but he’s not very discreet when he keeps sneaking glances her way.
But she ignores him.
Cas and Dean move to the front desk to speak to the employee smiling welcomingly at them while Y/N remains with Sam by the exit.
He looks over to her. With her arms crossed over her chest, she’s looking at some earrings in the display case.
“So you’re not gonna forgive him, huh?” He prompts. She shrugs. A ring with a diamond the size of a nugget glints in the daylight and she rounds the display to take a closer look.
“Nope.” Is her simple reply.
“Come on, Y/N…” Sam almost pleads. “You know that this is all gonna blow over. It always does. The two of you can never actually stay mad at each other.”
“Watch me then. He’s gonna stew this time.”
“But not forever, right?”
She looks up and he’s at her
side. There’s a small, polite and almost knowing smile on his face. One she’s
seen before. One she hates to see because of the truth it holds, the gospel
behind it. Y/N sighs then looks away…and that’s good enough of an answer for
Sam. His simper then grows into a teasing smirk and he leaves to go see what Cas
and his brother are up to.
Watching him go, the young girl bites her lip, her mind gripped by the reality the younger Winchester just showed her. He’s right. It’s inevitable—she’s going to forgive Dean. No matter how much she denies it, she always does, so what’s the point of just postponing it all?
Getting it done now would be much easier, she reasons as she moves to the earrings display. So what if Dean’s ego is pampered by her surrender? So what if she has to be the one to cave—it’s not like anyone is keeping score? They’re not. They’re not petty like that…
Y/n feels reluctance tug at the strings of her heart. When they’re done the trio walks up to her and tells her it’s time to leave. Apparently there’s been a bit of a delay.
“The ring will be ready by Saturday.” Castiel offers. “We pick it up first thing in the morning.”
“Looking at some rocks, huh, Y/N? Don’t get your hopes up.” Dean says as he takes a look. His eyes survive the vast variety, skittering from jewel to jewel. “I’m not making buying you stuff from every store we go to a habit. The scarf was just for show.”
“I didn’t—“ Y/N begins, defenses on
already, but quickly stops herself.
Eyes narrowed, she clamps her lips shut and stares. He fingers a diamond pendant on the shelf. With a shake of her head, she tries to ignore his remarks, and sidesteps him, moving as fast as she can to get out of the door.
As if the day wasn’t odd enough, it’s
Sam who drives them back to the hotel.
Y/N, with her back terse and nails digging into the leather seats, now knows why Dean never lets his little brother.
Because, boy, is he rocky. She doesn’t know if it’s like this all the time, but the car feels like a cruising deathtrap. They race down the road at an unholy speed. Much to her surprise, Dean says nothing. He’s quiet. Dead silent, entranced instead by the scenery zipping by in a flash.
“Damn, Sammy, cool it.”
“Oh, sorry, Y/N.”
“Don’t like it fast, huh?” Dean speaks for the first time since they got in.
Turning her attention to him, she shoots him a glare. He doesn’t notice it, though. Too busy staring out the window. Engulfed by his own thoughts. Apparently not enough to miss the chance to poke fun at her.
“Relax, Y/N…” the elder hunter continues, finally turning around to look her in the eye. Expression bored, his lips quirk up in a dead smirk. “…he’s just trying to get you there quickly. You don’t like that either?”
“Hm…Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t pick Sam to be your squeeze for the wedding. Otherwise things in the bedroom would be real awkward, am’irite?”
“Dean!” Sam admonishes.
Y/N fights the blush flooding her face. With a glad grin, the elder Winchester glances at his brother then back at her. The satisfaction is written out in the way his lips twitch, the smugness of his expression that she chooses to ignore because if she doesn’t, then things might get ugly…
“Can you stop acting like a child?”
“Why don’t you make me?”
“Is this some type of flirtation?” Cas’ voice cuts through the noise, dripping with cluelessness and earnest curiosity. Dean laughs. So does Sam. Y/N, she only rolls her eyes and turns to the window.
“I just don’t see why we’re in a rush. I mean, we still have like—“ she glances back at the car-clock, “—two and a half hours till they need us back at the hotel. Almost three.”
“So…what? You guys wanna go do something?”
“What’s there to do, Sam? It’s Boston.”
“We could go to the museum…? I hear their exhibitions are immensely meticulous and well done. It shouldn’t take us less than—“
“No one really wants to go to the museum, Cas, but we appreciate the participation.” Clapping him on the shoulder, Dean shakes his head. His eyes shoot to her. “Y/N: where to, since you are the local?”
“Well, you did leave here your entire childhood.” Sam reasons, shooting her a glance in the rearview mirror. “You’ve gotta know some place that’s…I don’t know—fun?”
“Fun? In Boston?” She scoffs. “Please.”
“What about a movie?”
“For three hours?”
“Oh, right…uhm….” They all think in silence, and Y/N lets them.
The truth is this: she does know a fun place. She knows a ton. It’s freaking Boston. She knows the woods just out of town she’d sneak off to with her friends after school and she knows some of the best burger joints you can find. She’s got eyes all over this damn town, in all the cracks and crannies that you can find, but getting her to confess is nothing but a far-fetched plan, she thinks—until the boredom starts to weigh in on her too.
Biting her lips, she reluctantly begins. “I think i have an idea…”
The chatter then quiets as all eyes flit to her constricted face telling just how badly she doesn’t want to say it. Y/N gulps. It’s only one option on the (long) list of many…
The sky is clear by the time they get there.
A vast stretch of blue across the town, a few tufts of white clouds here and there. It’s not going to rain, apparently. Not with the air clear and warm and dancing against the apples of Y/N’s cheeks.
She stops walking for a moment, staring at the cluster before her. Trees upon trees. Thick, evergreen, covering a radius of roughly ten miles, and before it the playground where they stand. Sand. A slide with chipped blue paint and abandoned swings. Usually this place is full but taken the fact that it’s a Thursday leaves it marooned, the only presences being those of adults and teenage couples roaming around in the park.
Whipping to face them, Y/N flashes the boys a tight smile. “This is it.”
“A park?” Dean’s voice, although surprised, holds no offensive tone. He squints at the light as he takes a look around, eyes resting on the little gates of the entrance. “This is what you call fun?”
“Extremely. Look,” She walks over and taps the slide’s chipped paint. “…it even has a playground just for kiddies like you.”
“I’ll join you on the slide, Dean.” Cas supplements with a smile and Y/N chuckles.
The gates let out an aged squeak as they push through. The boulevard is a wide stretch of cobble with parks on the sides with people playing instruments, a guy in rollerblades doing tricks. She remembers coming here all the time, being one of these personalities strumming her ukulele for some extra doe
“Check it out.” Smiling, Sam points to a girl doing a full back-bend and a man laying eggs on her extended torso. They all smile and make their way over. Apparently, she’s an acrobat putting her skills to sue for the same reason Y/N did, and so they leave her with a couple of dollars and a coupon to Denny’s before moving on.
They move from person to person to food-kart when Dean’s stomach starts to rumble.
“I feel like chili-dogs.”
“When do you not feel like chili dogs, Winchester?” Y/N smiles as she hands the vender the money. “You always feel like chili dogs.”
“Is there any other genuine feeling?”
“Apparently not.” She mumbles. A few feet away Sam and Cas are buying cotton candy, when the younger Winchester turns around.
He jerks a thumb back, raising his voice. “Do you guys want some?”
“No, we’re good.” Y/N shouts back, and he gives them a thumbs up before turning back to the guy holding two fluffy blue blobs. They’re handed two large sandwiches, then wander further down the path until they’re in the opening near the pond. There are trees everywhere and a few people dotted across the grass, the pond glistening in the sunlight, and Dean’s about to sit when Y/N stops him.
“Not here.” She says.
The elder Winchester, already halfway into his seat, furrows his brow. “What?”
She only waves for him to follow and
It takes them roughly eight minutes to get to an isolated spot further into the park and Y/N is smiling proudly. A large oak sprouts from the ground and they settle down beneath it.
“Ugh, if S/P/N could see me now she’d scold me sore.” She says, un-tucking the napkins around her sandwich as they sit. “This is a total no-no for someone trying to stay fit for a wedding.”
“It’s not like you’re the bride, anyway. What’s that saying, again? Always the bridesmaid never the bride?”
He shrugs then takes big bite out of his sandwich Some marinara dribbles down his mouth and onto his chin. These ends of the park, for all the years she’s known them, are never fully. They never have anyone but Y/N and whatever company she strings along with her, and because of this the quiet that settles between them is deafening, encompassing.
She stares out at the pond glimmering like mercury, the ducks waddling over it in tiny clusters. A fond smile creeps onto her face. She remembers. Everything. She remembers hot summers spent dipping her legs in the water and cut-off shorts that bleached from the sun. She remembers ice-cream trickling down her wrist; laughs with friends and furtive I love you’s hidden somewhere in the intimacy of this place. She remembers, because she can’t win the fight not to.
“I used to come here a ton when I was a kid.” She says, breaking the silence.
Dean turns to her. His expression is simple, mouth still dressed with marinara sauce and brow furrowed with a newfound interest.. “Really?”
She nods “S/P/N used to bring me.. When we were like ten, she’d tell my mum we were going to the library and we’d come here instead, sneak off to this little sequestered zone to…” She shrugs. “…skip stones, listen to music. I used to feel like the coolest kid on the block just ‘cause I was hanging out with teenagers. But…when I got older we sorta stopped. She went off to college, so I inherited the safe zone. Used to sneak off here after school with my friends.
“You had friends? Wow…” Eyes wide and lips quirked subtly, his tone is evidently teasing. Y/N laughs softly. Genuinely. There’s still a hint of earnest that tells her he’s a bit surprised, but she understands; despite having lived with the boys for so long, there’s not much they know about her life before hunting.
“Yup.” She answers. “A whole pack. They were nice, too—really nice, and we had a lot of fun before I left. Here, there, all over city, the state even. But, after that, things kinda…fizzled out.” A hint of melancholy seeps into her tone as she averts her gaze to the ground, quieting for a moment. She can feel Dean’s eyes on her, prying, interested in hearing what it is she has to say. The tension between evaporates. They’re no longer foes on this park bench, not with the newfound intimacy that seems to envelope them.
It’s hard re-opening this wound right
in front of someone, in front of Dean. He knows her— for all the years they’ve
been partners, for all the wholeness of her herself she has given him he knows
her, but telling all this comes harder than she thought it would. There’s a
knot in her chest refusing to untangle, that doesn’t want her to spill all this
now, but it’s about time… Sighing, she swallows and turns to him. She blinks,
“You know why I hate this place so much? Massachusetts, Boston?” She asks.
Dean shakes his head.
“Because I had a life here. A good life. And I left a lot behind when I left to hunt.”
She can feel the tears stinging her eyes and tries to blink them away. They won’t budge. Instead they spill over, trickling down the curve of her cheek. She doesn’t want to remember having it all, because it means recalling leaving it behind. And it hurts—God, does it hurt.
Biting her lip, she sniffles and another tear trickles down her cheek. “I hate this stupid town,…” She says Carefully. Quietly. Her voice is hoarse and is at the precipice of cracking.
“Come on, Y/N…”
“I can’t wait to leave.”
And that’s all it takes.
And she’s in his arms, head rested on his chest, face pink and wet and fingers knotted together because she can’t breathe. Her chest stutters, falling as fast as it rises. Dean, smoothing his hand over her arm, tells her to breathe, to relax.
“I can’t, Dean…” Tears trickle down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “God, I can’t wait for this wedding to be over. To get out of this place.”
“Y/N, listen to me.” He coos, somehow managing to pacify her, because she actually does. Sniffling, she tips her head back and their eyes meet. Green on y/e/c. His eyes swim with a sadness, an anguish she can’t bring herself to understand.
Gulping thickly, the elder Winchester gathers his thoughts. His courage. Watching this is more painful than imagined; just because they fought, it doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t still care for Y/N. It doesn’t mean that watching her cry doesn’t make his heart splinter, or that hearing her quiet sobs is any less painful than taking a bullet to the shoulder.
He never makes her cry. Ever. Tries not to, but apparently fails because here she is, stifling a sob.
“You had a good life here, maybe even great, but leaving to embark on something new doesn’t mean leaving that good behind—it means taking it along with you.” His eyes bore into hers. “And that’s what you did. You took a whole lot’a good from this crappy town and brought it into our lives. You changed them. And it may sound selfish, but you leaving your old life behind was the best thing that could have happened to mine.”
Y/N manages a small, sad smile. A coarse chuckle escapes her. “Softie.”
“Hey…” he admonishes but it’s only
semi-genuine before a smile breaks through; his eyes crinkle, pink lips pulled
back and there it is again. That glimmer.
That spark that ignites the warmth in her chest…
She looks at Dean like she’s looking at him for the first time in years—takes in the wrinkles and creases engraved into his skin, the blots freckles across his nose, the little bit of gold that glints in the green rim of his eyes and she feels her spirit soar.
“You’re right.” Averting her gaze, her words are q bit mumbled. The elder-hunter’s eyebrows quirk.
Y/N nods. Stuttering a breath, she casts her eyes to meet his.“I’m sorry I was being so difficult.”
“We both were. Some more than others, but…” She rolls her eyes at his words, punching him in the shoulder softly. He only laughs.
Dean offers a
“No, it’s not.” It’s going to take some time for the guilt to dissolve, but an apology is one step closer to that achievement. Inhaling deeply, Y/n shakes her head slowly. “And I’m sorry for saying I would have rather brought Sam with me. You’re doing a great job keeping up with my family and my crazy ass. I never should have said that.”
“Could you stop it? it obviously isn’t. i know that. I’m sorry, Dean. I….”The sentence melts away somewhere in her throat as she feels her chest shake. Her eyes water. Glancing away, the words are barely a whisper…
“…I care about you.” Y/N admits.
Stilling, he takes a moment processing. Then, lips quirking into a subtle, knowing smile, he offers her his hand. “Truce?”
She glimpses down at it. Rough and calloused. Dean’s. An unspoken contract. She can’t help but think back to their first day, in the car. An unspoken promise between the two of them, and within a second all the hate has vanquished. All the bitterness and resentment and the arguments and the tears, and all that’s left is that glimmer in her chest.
Grabbing it firmly, she nods. “Truce.”
:D :D :D
The angst is over! I know I said that the update was due last week, but my break just finished and I only got the time to post today. Nonetheless, I hope you liked what you saw.
That being said: likes, reblogs and follows are abundantly appreciated. ! Much love and I hope you’re doing welll!