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Ninja's Minefield
Thoughts Like A Minefield 18+ ONLY MASTERLIST
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*image from Amazon stills
Summary: He’s been alive for more than a hundred years. After everything he’s seen and done, what he really wants is to dream.
Characters in this chapter: Soldier Boy x Liberty (Stormfront)
Warnings/tags in this chapter: 18+ ONLY, dream sequences, verbal humiliation, physical humiliation, bondage, domination, flogging, object insertion, anorgasmia
Words in this chapter: 1K
Author’s notes: @deans-spinster-witch sent me a request. This is the result. There are multiple parts to this story.
Thank you @princessmisery666 for the mind-meld and @sam-is-my-safe-word for the pre-read and gold star.
#Sensory Deprivation for @JacklesverseBingo bc he has no control over any of his senses right now.
FEAR
He keeps going to sleep, but he never wakes up—or at least he isn’t aware of being awake.
Soldier Boy doubts that Grace Mallory, as beautiful and inspired as she is, will figure out how to crack him. He could tell her what he knows, but what would be the fun in that? Besides, he doesn’t know what’s real and what isn’t, and he needs his wherewithal to navigate his dreamscape.
“Good boy.”
“Ahh, c’mon- good boy? We both know that isn’t me.”
Liberty stands before him nude and panting—not that she needs to gasp for air, but this is his dream and he likes the way her tits shake and her nostrils flare with each breath. In one hand, she’s clutching the steel shaft of a red leather flogger.
“No, it’s not. So what should I call you?”
He stands from the chair, equally as nude but much better composed, and grips the back of her neck to drag her flush against his body.
“Sir. Master. Daddy. Take your pick.”
He takes her mouth with his, stealing her breath from her lungs and the implement of blissful pain from her fist.
“Or keep your fuckin’ mouth shut for all I care.”
He spins around and pushes her forward.
“Hands on the seat and feet wide.”
“Yes, sir,” she breathes her compliance and does what she’s told.
He circles the chair, testing the heft and drag of the falls against his palm. Then he’s draping and pulling them across her back, each pass heavier and faster than the last.
She whispers her submission over and again as each thud lands on her ass, hips, and thighs. By the time he’s worked his way up to swiping upward between her legs, she’s sobbing and her legs are shaking.
“Fuck,” she whimpers. “Please, sir, please fuck me.”
He ignores her cries, grasping her upper thigh to open her wider for his abuse.
“What a sloppy whore, soakin’ my leather with your messy cunt. You don’t deserve my cock.”
“Please,” she begs and trembles, her skin striped crimson, ruby, scarlet, and blush.
He flips the flogger in his hand to grind the steel grip, warmed by his hand, along her slick seam as he arches over her to grab for a handful of her thick, dark hair.
“Keep your fucking legs open and I’ll give you my flogger. Grind on it. That’s right. Ahh, yeah, you hot, horny little bitch.”
Liberty mewls and humps against the shaft of his flogger. He likes her desperate and frantic. He knows how tight she is everywhere—he’s had her six ways to Sunday—but degrading her makes him hard as steel.
Speaking of...
With the flick of his wrist, he drives the shaft inside her. She squeals and rises to her tiptoes, and he twists her hair in his fist.
“Don’t be a prissy brat. You wanted to be fucked, so take it.”
He slams into her with the flogger, slow and hard. She’s a supe, she can handle it, even though his dreams want her to suffer and scream.
“Hurts,” she whines.
“I know it does, doll. And I know you fucking love it.”
She moans and rolls her hips, pushing back onto the steel being fucked into her.
“Harder, sir.”
“Yeah?”
He spins again to sit back in the chair, draping her across his lap.
“Feet wide, slut. Fuckin pathetic, settling for an artificial cock when you know the best is right fucking here. So hard against your belly right now. Bet you’d do anything I asked to have it in your cunt, your ass, your mouth. You know what it’s like, you wish I was using that instead.”
“Oh, shit,” she convulses in his lap, gripping the legs of the wooden chair so tight, he hears them begin to splinter. “I’m coming!”
He grabs one ass cheek and slams the object into her until she stops the rapid undulation that he recognizes as her orgasm, then pulls the flogger from inside her, letting her slide to the floor.
“C’mere,” he commands, and she rises to her knees at his feet. “Suck.”
He presses the steel to her lips and she obeys, taking it inside her mouth. He presses forward until she’s gagging around the steel and beyond. He holds the back of her head in his hand as he uses the flogger to fuck her throat, making her choke and drool, and tears spill from her eyes.
“OK, OK.” He eases the steel shaft from her mouth and drops it aside as she coughs and gasps for breath.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her in for another searing kiss.
Her breath returns and calms with each press and slide of their lips. Liberty runs her hands up and back over her thighs and works her way between his knees.
“I want your cum, sir,” she mutters against his mouth. “Please.”
“Mmm, sit back,” he tells her, grasping his hard cock and squeezing.
He should have done this sooner; it almost hurts to touch himself. Maybe he should’ve fucked her like she wanted. He still could, but he wants to see it. He wants to see his cum on her face and tits, to make her lick it off.
He’s careful with himself, palming and gently pumping. He closes his eyes and breathes, reaching for her.
“What’s the matter, baby? Is it too hard?”
He opens his eyes and she’s standing in front of him again with the flogger in her hand.
“Poor baby can’t come?”
Liberty twirls the flogger once before swiping him across the chest.
“What the fuck?” he whispers, looking into his lap at his straining, engorged cock.
He looks back up at her. “I need to come. I can’t-”
Liberty tsks and frowns before straddling his hips and wrapping the flogger around his neck as she settles over him, engulfing him with tight, white heat.
He’s bound to the chair again, but Starlight isn’t there. He can’t move, fuck, or come. He’s frozen in place, as Liberty whispers back every nasty thing he said to her before.
Eventually, she’s laughing. She throws her head back laughing.
There are others laughing, too.
His son is laughing, Butcher, Countess... where did they come from?
He closes his eyes again and wishes for silence. He’s granted that silence and a creeping sense of dread that he’s not as in control of his dreams as he’d hoped.
Series Master List | The Boys Fic | My Master List
Please let me know what you think!
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*all images credited to respective network's still photography
LIBERTINE II - #Sensory Deprivation
unnamed - #Ski Patrol AU
LIBERTINE III - #Pressure Points
unnamed - #Last Kisses
unnamed - #Drunk Call to Number on Bathroom Wall
Ennui - #Darkside AU - Demon Dean x unnamed female character
Anonymous Prompt: “I really want demon dean stalking someone but I don’t know how to do that with consent? But guh just the thought of him.
Characters: Knight of Hell/Demon Dean Winchester x unnamed female character
Tags/warnings: 18+ only; this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester; stalking; exhibitionism; voyeurism; dirty talk; horny on aisle 3; fuck it, we ball
Words: 2,400
unnamed - #Mutual Masturbation
unnamed - #Airport Bar
unnamed - #Balcony Buddies
@jacklesversebingo @brrose-apothecary
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*images credited to Kim Kardashian Twitter, and CW photo stills
Anonymous Prompt: “I really want demon dean stalking someone but I don’t know how to do that with consent? But guh just the thought of him.
Characters: Knight of Hell/Demon Dean Winchester x unnamed female character
Tags/warnings: 18+ only; this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester; stalking; exhibitionism; voyeurism; mutual masturbation; dirty talk; horny on aisle 3; fuck it, we ball
Words: 2,400
Author’s notes: #Mutual Masturbation for @jacklesversebingo
This did not turn out the way I'd planned, and it's not nearly as dark as I thought it would be. But I still love it! I hope you love it, too.
Thank you @brrose-apothecary @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @runawaydr3amerao3 @bigmouthlass for idea bouncing, and @stusbunker for the proof read and green light.
ENNUI
For some people, the passage of time is beautiful and magical; the smallest things are to be cherished. For others, time passing reinforces our connection with the world, marking each pulse of the rhythm of life. For her, time measures the loss and emptiness of what isn’t or will ever be again.
Today is a milestone birthday for her. The days leading up to it have been punctuated by discoveries of new lines, bulges, and other undesirable changes to her body that remind her she’s steadily failing.
Since she had just two appointments this morning, she decided to close her office early and hit the pool shared by her HOA. Her neighbors are mostly professionals without children, and it’s Tuesday; she’s sure she’ll have the pool to herself to languish in the wet heat of July in the Midwest.
That annoying fucking saying ‘it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity’, comes for her breath and doesn’t leave. It seeps into the lining of her lungs, heavy and damp, slowing and weighting each step she takes toward the south-facing bank of chairs. Once she reaches the chair she always uses, she drops her canvas tote to the concrete and shrugs out of the sheer wrap before shuffling out of her sandals.
She bends to rifle through her bag for her tanning oil, and a faint chill begins to weave its way up her spine.
+
Dean is sitting in the front seat of the Impala, swallowing the last bite of his Biggerson’s double bacon and cheese when she snags his attention. She walks with the measured confidence that speaks more of a dare than of enthusiasm. She’s alone, and everything about her vibe tells Dean that she’s more than comfortable with that.
She doesn’t miss a beat as she makes her way to a randomly chosen lounger in a line of another dozen exactly like it. She lets her bag slip from her grasp, and her robe floats from her straight shoulders to join it at her feet.
She’s small in stature but she looks strong and fit—thick thighs and sculted arms, a narrow waist, and curves upon curves. Dean's never cared much about short, tall, fat, thin; he likes women and sex, and if he hits it off with someone, he’s down to fuck.
But this woman is a work of art.
He watches her dig through her bag, dragging his gaze from her delicate ankles and smooth calves and thighs to the generous curve of her ass. He imagines wrapping arms around her, lifting her to carry her to... bed, most likely.
He chuckles to himself.
She takes a seat half-upright with her legs outstretched and applies oil to her bronze skin. He wishes he could rub it in for her. He lets himself believe she can read his mind, that she's doing this for him, putting on a show just for him.
Why not?
When she unties her bikini top to expose her full, heavy tits and dusky nipples, he doesn’t think twice about popping the button on his jeans and pulling his hot, persistently hard cock from his boxers.
+
As she had hoped, she’s alone at the pool. The small cluster of townhouses where she lives and the complexes on either side are as quiet as any Tuesday afternoon. Other than the birds and squirrels in the trees, she’s got the place to herself.
Well, and the old black Chevy parked at the Biggerson’s next door and the shadowy figure within. She may be cynical, but she’s self-aware, and she’s going to squeeze every drop of pleasure from this bland existence as possible.
She’s always been an exhibitionist, definitely a thrill-seeker. She pulls the tie at her neck until the triangles, scarcely covering her breasts, fall away. Then she splashes oil across her collarbones, letting it heat and drip down and around, and between her breasts.
She flicks her shaded eyes to the car before hefting and massaging the full mounds of flesh, then sighs and nuzzles into her lounger. She bites her bottom lip hard as she pinches and twists her puckered nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.
She notices the figure shifting in the driver’s seat. They don’t start the engine or exit the vehicle. Instead, they lift a palm to their mouth and, she imagines, they spit before the hand disappears out of her sight once more.
“Fuck,” she whispers with a smile as she settles her head back against the plush headrest, dragging one hand down her torso and pushing it into her bikini bottoms.
+
That smirk.
Dean looks around the parking lot to find no one else around—it’s as empty as her pool area. He looks back to see that she’s planted her feet on the ground on either side of her chair, her legs spread open, and one hand working rough and slow in her bikini bottoms while the other pulls at her nipples.
“Fuck yes, sweetheart. Do it for me,” Dean mutters, twisting and pumping his cock.
He grunts and groans as she pulls her hand from her bathing suit and lifts it to her mouth. She raises her head, then, and pushes two fingers between her luscious lips. She sucks and licks her fingers, taking her time, and Dean wishes she wasn’t wearing those mirrored sunglasses. He wants to see her eyes.
Are they blue? Green? Brown?
Is she watching him like he’s watching her?
After what feels like the longest and most uncertain staring contest, she pushes her fingers back between her legs. She doesn’t immediately put her head back, though. This time, she licks her lips and grips the edge of her chair with the hand she isn't using to fuck herself.
“That’s right, good girl, show me how you like it.”
He grips the steering wheel as he pumps himself until her mouth drops open and she starts to tremble. Her gorgeous tits bounce and her hips undulate, and, before he knows it, he’s spurting hot over his fist.
+
She slams her head back against the headrest, sweating and panting even more than she was from the afternoon sun. She feels gooey and giddy, and light. She opens her eyes and heaves a sigh of satisfaction, pitching forward to look across the pool to Biggerson’s parking lot.
A flash inside the car lights a cigarette, and she catches the first glimmer of the dark stranger. He holds her gaze for a beat, the flame’s reflection dancing in eyes so dark they appear black, before throwing the zippo closed and roaring from the empty lot.
She sighs again as she sits up straight and ties her top back in place before standing, stretching, and striding toward the pool to dive in. The water is cool and calm as she strokes from one end of the pool and back again three times before barrel-rolling to her back to aimlessly float. A light breeze ruffles the leaves overhead, making the sunlight flicker like a strobe.
After a while, she draws a deep breath before tucking into herself to blissfully sink to the bottom of the muted 4-foot depth.
+
“Sure.” Dean nods and rolls his eyes as Crowley nags him on the other end of the line.
Crowley gave him a job, which is what brought him to her town, and he really should do it—to calm The Mark and keep the peace with the King of Hell—but he’d rather be knocking on her front door.
Seeing her yesterday has completely derailed his plans. It’s been years since he felt an instant connection with someone like he feels with her. Separated by the green vining through the black chain link and shade inside his car, he felt her. He wants to feel more.
“I’ll take care of it, OK?”
He isn’t lying, not really; he’ll take the guy out, just not right now. He’s... preoccupied.
“Now, Dean. Not tomorrow, not next week-”
“Yeah. I know. I’ll get it done. Bye.”
Dean cuts the line and tosses his phone to the passenger seat then looks up just in time to see her exiting her townhome. She’s wearing those stretchy kinds of pants women wear to the gym with heeled boots and a leather jacket. Dean has no idea what the fuck that outfit is all about, but her ass looks incredible. She takes even steps with her head held high. The view from behind her is infuriating. With every stride, her ass plumps and sways, and her wide hips tease him relentlessly.
He fires up the engine and puts the car in Drive before carefully pulling away from the curb to follow her.
He pictures what she’d look like bent over the hood of the Impala. He imagines yanking those stupid fucking pants down to her knees and kicking her heeled feet wide. She’d moan and arch her back, presenting her perfect, bare ass to him. He’d smack it, and she’d yelp, begging for more.
She’d beg. And he’d grab a fistful of her shiny black hair to twist and squeeze as he slammed inside her over and over.
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing the heel of his palm down onto his ever-present and now throbbing erection.
He watches her toss her hair as she turns into a storefront six blocks from her front door, and Dean slides into another parallel spot and waits.
+
The drugstore door closes behind her, and she’s instantly enveloped by artificially cooled air. One of the many things she despises about midwestern summers is the necessity of air conditioning. She procrastinates turning hers on inside her townhouse every season as long as possible, but when her clients begin to complain, she gives in.
She doesn’t waste time browsing for anything other than what she came for—eye cream. Yesterday’s existential crisis is a distant memory, surpassed by him.
She thinks it’s silly that he’s trying to be stealthy, parking a block down the road, like she didn’t see that ridiculous car of his in front of her house before she even opened her door. This game of cat and mouse is fun for her, though. There’s mystery and suspense. It distracts her from the mundane.
She pays for her eye cream and drops it into her handbag before replacing her sunglasses over her eyes. She doesn’t know the rules of this game they’re playing, but she’s never played by anyone’s rules except her own, so it doesn’t really matter.
Back out in the heat, she pauses before heading toward the restaurant to meet a friend for lunch. Sunlight beams off the chrome bumper of his car, making her squint even with her sunglasses on. She shields her eyes and tosses him a smirk, then turns to walk the other direction.
+
She sees him now, and she saw him yesterday.
That fucking smirk of hers is the guarantee he needs. Every step she takes and every move she makes is an invitation, and he has to think long and hard about whether that’s a good thing or not. Because he’s sure that not only does she see that he’s watching her, but that once she sees him up close and personal, she’ll see who he really is.
She’s a kindred spirit. He knows this as well as anyone knows when they find that person, that connection. He doesn’t know what the connection is exactly, but he knows it’s there, and it’s undeniable.
But can she hold her own with him?
He decides to follow her with renewed purpose.
+
After lunch, she stops at a consignment shop, the florist, and the liquor store. She wanders along the selection of wines, row by row, waiting. She doesn’t have to wait much longer, though.
“Lotta choices, huh?”
The ticking of her heart speeds up from the sound of his thick, masculine voice. It’s only been 24 hours, but she’s been on tenterhooks, willing him to approach her, and it’s finally happening.
Then she turns to face him and gasps.
He’s gorgeous—tall, broad-shouldered, perfectly proportioned, defined, angular jawline, thick eyelashes, and a mouth that has her rapidly dampening her underwear. But it’s his eyes that give her pause.
Sparkling obsidian. She wasn’t imagining what she witnessed yesterday. Then he blinks to reveal the most exquisite jade. Her skin crackles with anticipation. He’s like no one or thing she’s ever seen before.
She wants to know everything.
“Small talk? After all we’ve been through together?” she murmurs, shifting into him like he’s a black hole that will never let her go.
She can’t- won’t deny him.
+
He narrows his gaze and slowly tilts his head, studying her face.
“Honey, we can talk about anything you want.” He scans her bright, whiskey eyes and the straight bridge of her nose leading to the enticing pitch of her top lip. “But I’d rather do something else with my mouth.”
Her eyelids flutter and he chuckles, teasing the backs of his incisors with the tip of his tongue. He reaches for her, tucking one hand under the back of her hair and bringing her the last few inches closer.
“Like what?” she whispers, and he meets her trembling lips with a firm, insistent kiss.
“I think you know,” he mutters, turning and pressing her against the selection of Australian whites.
She hums, draping her arms around his neck. “I wanna hear you say it.”
Dean drags her flush against him by her waist and twists his fist in the back of her long, raven hair. And he tells her what she wants to hear.
“I’m gonna taste every inch of you.” He mumbles against her throat and lower. “I’m gonna suck those beautiful tits and bite your tight nipples.” He pushes a knee between her thighs and lifts until his leg meets the hot, damp crotch of her thin, stretchy pants, then scrapes his teeth over the shell of her ear. “And I’m gonna lick and play with your little clit until you're begging me to fuck you. And then I’ll lick you some more.”
She grinds over his thigh. “We gonna do this here?” she breathes.
Dean huffs a laugh as he steps away, setting her back on her own two feet. He holds her hand and her gaze. “Yeah, I know how much you like an audience. But I want you naked and I don’t wanna share you.”
She swallows and nods. “What’re we waiting for?”
Dean grins and spins toward the door, leading her out into the afternoon sun.
Dean Winchester Masterlist | MJ’s Masterlist
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FINISHED!
Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit
Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Final Part
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Black Tie Optional: Final Part
Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen
Warnings for this part: 18+ ONLY, SERIES FINAL REWRITE BECAUSE FUCK THAT REBAR, "one thing about Dean Winchester is, if a Toddler handed him a toy phone, he'd answer it"
Words in this part: 4,800
Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.
Thank you, @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for the read-throughs and greenlight.
text divider by @talesmaniac89
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
FINAL PART
The wedding party hits a few pubs on the way back to the hotel. Vanessa declares herself to be the “only sensible adult in this car” at their first stop and makes Sam take her place in the front passenger seat for the rest of the ride.
Dean watches her in his rearview mirror as she and Emma snap selfies in the backseat. From the very first moment he met her over a year ago, Dean knew she was special. She’s beautiful, yeah, but she’s so real and funny and smart.
Vanessa finally meets his gaze, and her eyelids flutter like they always do when she sees him like it’s the first time. He wonders if that’ll ever fade. Dean smiles, and she smiles back.
They pull up to the last bar and pile out onto the curb.
Dean rounds the hood of the car to where Vanessa is waiting for him as Sam and Emma make their way inside.
“Ya know, that little twinkle in your eye and this dress’re makin’ it hard for me to be a gentleman.” He steps close and reaches for her wrist, pulling her into him.
“Who told you to be gentle?” Vanessa slides her hands inside his unbuttoned jacket to wrap her arms around his waist. When her fingers bump against cold steel, she tenses. “Oh-”
Dean clasps his hands at the small of her back and looks down at her. “Just in case. OK?”
Vanessa relaxes in his embrace and nods.
“Kay,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.
She questions whether she should be troubled by the gun at his back. But she isn’t; in fact, the discovery serves to crystallize what she knows about him into the perfect shape of a man she trusts with her life, and her heart.
“A’right, Big Guy,” Emma coos as Sam helps her out of the Impala for the last time of the evening. “You and me, utility closet.”
She smooths her hands over her hips and tosses her hair over her shoulders.
Sam cocks a brow as he lets the heavy backdoor close. “Well, then, I guess we better get movin’.”
Emma giggles, taking off in a sprint with Sam hot on her stilettoed heels.
“They’re stealing our moves!” Vanessa laughs as Dean helps her onto the curb.
“Borrowing, kitten. No one’s takin’ that broom closet from us.”
Vanessa’s chest warms from his words and the look in his eyes. At one point, she thought Dean would be nothing more than a thrilling memory and story to tell, which sustained her for a while. Now, though, the ability to savor each moment, knowing that once their door closes tonight, he will make her feel like the most deserving, most treasured woman in the building, if not the galaxy, is sure to leave her wanting when he leaves tomorrow. She knows that now.
“Yo, lovebirds,” Nicole calls. “Let’s get inside so they can announce the bride and groom and start dinner.” She nods toward the ballroom, and Dean and Vanessa reluctantly unwind from each other’s embrace to follow her and the others.
Emma and Sam are MIA, but Nicole summons enough grace not to call it out. Once the wedding party and their dates are seated at the head table, Toni and her new husband enter the room. The guests cheer, and the first dance begins.
During the first toast, the missing couple materializes at the head table, disheveled and flushed. Dean snorts a laugh as Sam takes a seat beside his date.
“Sammy, I gotta tell ya,” Dean leans across the table toward Sam. “I like the effect this girl’s got on you.”
Sam seems to blush darker, if possible. “Me, too,” he admits, flicking his bright gaze to meet Dean’s as Emma burrows into his side and the staff serves them salad.
The second course is served while Dean quietly immerses himself in a scenario where he and Sam aren’t hunting the sister of the Almighty. They’re bartenders or electricians with mortgages and dogs and car payments. The only reason either of them breaks a bone or bleeds is because of a mundane accident. They get eight hours of sleep at night and eat three meals a day. He regularly attends weddings and birthday parties with his beautiful girl at his side.
“Should we dance?” Vanessa’s voice creates a fissure of reality in his fantasy.
“Or maybe you don’t dance.” She tucks her chin to her chest and bats the thick dark lashes that frame her cerulean eyes.
Dean’s momentarily speechless as his daydream twines its way around the very real, very tangible, very beautiful woman facing him with anticipation. She blinks, and he can almost feel the weight of his imagined existence settling around them, shimmering in the pin lights that hang from the rafters.
“Dean?” Vanessa tilts her head with concern.
“It’d be an honor,” he answers, pushing away from the table to stand, offering her his hand.
Vanessa grins as she slides her hand across his open palm and stands to face him. “Such a gentleman.”
“Hmm. There’s that word again.”
They saunter toward the dancefloor, hand in hand and eye to eye, in time with the bluesy beat from Chris Stapleton’s cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” until they reach the edge. Dean drags her close with a flourish, one heavy hand at the small of her back, fingers teasing the skin that’s bared by the low-cut back of her silk dress, and the other lightly clasping her fingers in his palm. She rests her free hand over his heart and lets him lead the way.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”
“You did. The last time was about 30 minutes ago, between the mixed greens and beef tenderloin.”
Dean nods. “Then I’m due. You’re beautiful.”
Vanessa smiles.
“Did I tell you how good you smell?” Dean draws small circles over the silky skin of her lower back.
“Probably.” She smirks, and he grins back.
“Did I tell you how hard it’s gonna be to wait another- wait, how long do I have to wait to get you naked?”
Vanessa throws her head back with a hearty laugh.
They dance through Chris Stapleton, John Mayer, and Calvin Harris, chatting with Emma and Sam until the DJ declares a free-for-all, and the rest of the guests flood the dancefloor for “Uptown Funk”.
“Aaand I’m done.” Dean twirls Vanessa once before turning and forging a path through the oncoming crowd, taking Vanessa with him.
“Not feelin’ funky?” She teases.
“Oh, I can be funky, but not that kinda funky.”
Before they get too far, Dean almost trips over Ari. He recovers quickly when the little girl stares up at him with big brown eyes that aggressively tug the strings of his heart.
“Ari, honey, you’re underfoot!” Silvia playfully scolds her granddaughter. “She just wants to dance.”
Ari sways side to side and bounces on the balls of her feet.
“There ya go!” Vanessa croons, reaching for one of Ari’s hands to play along with her. She’s only slightly taken aback when Dean reaches for the little girl’s other hand.
Ari giggles and hops up and down as the trio dances back toward the crowd. There are other people Ari could dance with; her uncles and aunts are all there, but she seems drawn to Dean and Vanessa. Especially Dean.
The DJ really likes Bruno Mars because he follows “Uptown Funk” with “Count On Me”. Ari pulls her hand out of Vanessa’s grasp and reaches for Dean to pick her up, and Dean doesn’t falter.
Unlike Vanessa, Sam is floored by Dean’s eagerness to entertain the pre-schooler. He watches with unrestrained curiosity.
“It’s pretty sweet of him to look after Ari like that,” Emma says, resting her temple against Sam’s chest as she watches the little girl twine her fingers with Dean’s.
“Yeah,” Sam replies. “Dean’s good with kids. I’m just not used to seeing him with kids for pure enjoyment.”
Emma looks up at him, brow arched. “Is that an allusion to the family business?”
Sam startles before meeting her curious gaze with a shrug. “I guess it is.”
“Really?”
He nods. “It’s complicated.”
Emma chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Of course it is.”
“No, I mean it.” He pauses, thinking about the times he didn’t tell the people he cared about what he did with his life, and they still died. “But... I’ll tell you about it. Later.”
“Are you sure?” Emma marvels.
“I’m sure.”
Five feet away, Vanessa watches Dean slowly shuffling side to side, holding the little girl on his hip. He spins in a circle like a Disney prince twirling his princess — like chivalry and devotion are embedded in his DNA. She wants to shower him with that kind of affection and tenderness, not just lust. And she’s fully aware of how hard she’s fallen for him with no way of getting up.
After a couple of songs, Ari has settled her head on Dean’s shoulder. A yawn and an eye rub beckon Silvia to collect her granddaughter for bed.
“Come on, Cinderella.” Silvia reaches for Ari, and Dean hands her over. “Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin right here in front of everyone.”
Ari nuzzles her grandma, waving to Dean as Vanessa takes her place as Dean’s dance partner. The couple waves back, bidding goodnight to Silvia and the little girl.
Dean refocuses his attention on his date, skimming an arm around her waist to pull her close.
Vanessa fiddles with his tie a little before speaking. It’s been such a nice night. She doesn’t want it to end.
“To answer your question from earlier, we can go upstairs any time you want after they cut the cake. But I have plans for tonight.” She meets his gaze. “So whatever you had in mind’s gonna have to wait.”
Dean holds his hands up in surrender. “No arguments here.”
As promised, once the cake is cut, Vanessa leads Dean to their suite. They have the elevator to themselves. As the doors close, Vanessa turns and slides her hands up over his shoulders and around his neck.
“I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
Dean smirks, mimicking her soft touch as he skirts his hands around her waist.
“You’ve been with me all night, kitten — don’t have to think too much.”
She shakes her head, her fingertips dancing over the ultrasoft nape above his collar.
“What you did for Ari tonight was incredibly generous. I just want to show you the same kind of warmth and generosity.”
Dean scoffs and fidgets under her scrutiny, pulling her closer so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye. “She’s a kid; it ain’t hard to be nice to kids.”
Vanessa gently pushes back a few inches to look at him. “It wasn’t just nice, Dean. You danced with her because her dad couldn’t be there. You salvaged the heart of a 4-year-old.”
Dean rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, and Vanessa keeps a hold on his wrists.
“I mean it.”
Dean sighs and finally stops hedging away as he settles his wary gaze on her.
“I know next to nothing about your background — your family, your day-to-day life — but I see the way your brother looks at you — like you hung the moon. And you give me confidence in a way no man has since my dad died.”
Dean’s brow furrows, and he steps back in to draw her closer. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“No, that’s not why I told you that.” She steps away and sighs.
The doors open at their floor, and she steps out of the car, pulling him with her in silence until they reach their suite. Dean keys the door open and ushers her inside.
“I’m gonna get out of this dress, but I still have some things I want to say, so...” she turns to face him as she kicks her shoes off just outside their bedroom door. “Get comfortable.”
Dean braces himself. “Whiskey comfortable, or boxers comfortable?”
Vanessa chuckles. “Boxers.”
She enters their bedroom and heads to the bathroom to change. After filling a couple of water glasses, Dean follows. He undresses down to his boxers and undershirt and zips away his formal attire in its garment bag. Just as he’s settling against the head of the bed to scroll his phone, Vanessa comes out in a bathrobe with her hair tied on top of her head.
Dean sets his phone aside. “I didn’t know bathrobes were sexy, but here we are.”
Vanessa grins as she climbs onto the bed and astride Dean’s hips. “Says you in your plain white undershirt and black boxer briefs. You’re beautiful.”
Dean tucks his chin to his chest, sliding his hands up her thighs to meet her bare hips. “What’d you wanna tell me?”
“Things I want you to know.” She smooths her hands from his shoulders over his chest and back again.
“Maybe you don’t wanna hear this from me, or maybe my opinion of this side of you doesn’t matter, but you’re a beautiful man, Dean, in every way imaginable — you’re beautiful. You’re tough and strong but soft in all the best ways.”
Dean drops his gaze to his lap, carefully considering his next words. He can’t tell her about gods and monsters. He can’t show her the decades-old bloodstains on his hands. He’ll never be able to 100% guarantee her safety from the things that go bump in the night.
But he can tell her some things.
“My mom died when I was Ari’s age,” he pauses, clearing his throat as he meets her eyes. “Sammy was six months old.”
Vanessa clamps her teeth over her bottom lip, biting back the emotion that threatens to well in her eyes. She nods, encouraging him to continue.
“Dad never really recovered. We grew up on the road, in the Impala and cheap motels.” He tilts his head, and his lips twist with a wistful smile. “The family business is... we help people. In ways a lot of other people can’t.”
“So, you’re not in the mob.”
“No, we’re not in the mob.”
“I’m a triage nurse. That’s why...” She motions to his scarred knuckles. “I recognize scars and injuries pretty quickly. It’s hard not to notice you and your brother’s.”
“Explains a lot,” Dean replies, thinking not only of her skills in assessing a situation but her instincts and her compassion.
“My dad was a cop,” she continues. “Killed in the line of duty. You remind me of him — in a good way — like how kind and attentive you are. That’s definitely not to say you’re like a dad to me.”
“Glad ya said that because I was startin’ to worry,” Dean chuckles.
“I don’t know if I can ever be as good as you,” she ponders. “As good as you are making people feel important — but I’d like to try to show you how you make me feel.”
“Mmm, is that the plan you had for tonight before we started talking serious shit?”
“Mmhm.” Vanessa nods. “The serious shit had to be said, but I know- I know this is a limited-time kinda thing. And I get it. My job is crazy, too. But I’ll think about you all the time, and I hope you’ll think about me.”
Dean studies her for a moment. The daydream from dinner floats back into his mind, but this time, she knows what he really does, accepts him, and he’s able to keep her safe. He wishes he could ask his dream self how it’s done.
“I’ll never stop thinkin’ about you, kitten.”
“Then let’s make the most of our last few hours, shall we?” She leans in for a long kiss, and Dean allows himself to be loved by her for one last night.
Dean sips his coffee as he and Sam depart the Windy City in the wee hours of Sunday morning.
“I told Emma,” Sam breaks the typically sanctioned early morning silence.
“You told Emma what?” Dean grumbles.
“About us,” Sam answers. “What we do.”
Dean blinks. “Wow. And how-”
“She believed me. That was my biggest fear — that she’d think I was making it up or something.”
Memories of Cassie, furious and cold, fill Dean’s mind. She didn’t believe him, and, really, who could blame her? Their life is absurd.
“What brought that on?” Dean asks as he merges onto the interstate, headed east, poking around for leads on Amara.
“I like her, Dean. A lot.”
Dean’s quiet for a while. He doesn’t know how Sam’s going to keep this going; he wouldn’t be able to, but if anyone can do it, it’s Sam.
“So... now what?” Dean’s genuinely curious.
Sam shrugs. “We take it slow. Keep in touch. How’d you leave things with Vanessa?”
“Left it where it’s at,” Dean answers immediately.
Sam rolls his eyes to look out the windshield and sighs. “So you think I made a mistake?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. It’s me, Sam. I’d fuck it up. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”
Sam opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it; Dean’s made his mind up.
When Dean tells him that Vanessa knows more about his scars and wounds than a typical civvy, Sam tells him what he knows about Vanessa -- that she’s a triage nurse. He tells Dean that Emma’s also a nurse and that Nicole’s a surgeon. Dean’s response is less than appreciative.
“You know what, Sammy? I can do without the updates. I left it there for a reason. Drop it.” He gave Sam the same edged look that accompanied a threat to break his nose if he ever mentioned Lisa or Ben again, and Sam silently agreed to his conditions.
But Sam cares more about Emma with every passing phone call. She’s intelligent and rational enough to handle the knowledge of what they do, so he keeps her as apprised of his life as she does of hers. Over the next few years, he grows to openly love her in a fully rounded, adult way that he’s never known.
He begins to pity and then, later, resent Dean for ‘leaving it there’ because Sam loves Emma. He wants a real life with her. He knows that choosing to keep Emma in his life has made his life better, and he believes Vanessa could do the same for Dean.
Then one night, four years later, Sam and Dean end up in a place that demands Dean re-evaluate leaving Vanessa behind.
Canton, Ohio...
“Alright, let’s go find those kids and get them outta here.” Sam sheaths his machete.
“Sam. I don't-” Dean groans. “I don't think I'm goin’ anywhere.”
“What?” Sam looks over at his brother where he’s awkwardly stood against a post. “What’re you talking about?”
“There's somethin’ in my- somethin’ in my back. Feels like it's right through me.”
Sam walks closer, reaching around Dean's back. When he brings his hand into the dim light, he sees it’s covered with blood.
“Alright, umm.” Sam looks around the barn, wiping his hand on his pants as he reaches for Dean’s shoulders. “Hold on. OK. I got you.”
“No, no, no, no, no. Don't- don't move me. It feels like this thing's holdin’ me together right now.”
Sam huffs, reaching for his phone. “I’m calling Emma.”
“What? No. Just- just gimme a minute.”
Sam shakes his head. “No, Dean. No more minutes. Emma’s an ER nurse. Here in Canton. I’m calling her.”
Sam paces toward the barn door.
“Sam! Stay wi- stay with me. Can you stay with me, please?” Dean’s breath is labored, and his eyelids flutter.
Sam turns back to face his brother, keeping one hand on his shoulder while he holds the phone with his other. “I’m right here, man. I got you.”
“What’s wrong?” Emma's voice comes across the speakerphone clear and concise.
“We’re in a barn about seven miles north of the town center. I sent you a pin. Dean’s... impaled... on a piece of rebar. Against a post.”
Dean groans again. “Sammy-”
“Fuck. OK.” Emma’s voice is temporarily muffled, and then it’s obvious by the rushed way she’s speaking that she’s running. “Where’s the entry wound?”
“His back. I think his heart.” Sam winces as his brother’s head lolls and sways.
“Did it come through his chest?” She asks before muttering to someone on her end of the line to ‘head to the old barn down the road’.
“No- no, nothing in the front. Just the back. His clothes are soaked.”
“OK. Van’s calling the paramedics.”
“What?!” Dean wails, suddenly alert. “No! Not Nessa.”
“...but we’ll get there faster,” Emma continues despite Dean’s protestation. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna need help covering up whatever you were fighting.”
Sam would tell Emma not to bring her roommate and best friend if his brother wasn’t dying before his eyes. He wants to honor Dean’s wishes to keep her safe, but he’s exhausted by Dean’s insistence that telling her is a bad idea.
“Dean, this is happening,” Sam says before resuming his conversation with Emma. “Five vamps. How far are you?”
“We’re literally 60 seconds away. Do not remove him from the rebar until we get there. Find something to cut him down, and we’ll help. Hang in there.”
“See you then,” Sam says to Emma before disconnecting his call.
“Nessa can’t- I can’t let her see me, this...” Dean pleads.
“She can and she will. You’re not dying today. Emma knows everything, and Vanessa isn’t stupid. They’re coming to keep you alive, and I’m not arguing with you about this anymore.”
Sam quickly glances around the room until he locates the kind of tool he needs. “As soon as they get here, I’m grabbing those bolt cutters and cutting you down. We’ll go outside and wait for the paramedics. I’ll take the boys somewhere safe and meet you at the hospital.”
“All this time... was tryna keep her safe, away from all this.” Dean hangs his head.
Sam lifts his chin. “Dean, she’s strong. If there was ever a time to let her in, it’s now.”
Right on cue, Emma and Vanessa race through the door with bags of first aid supplies.
“Get the bolt cutters; we’ll hold him up,” Emma instructs, removing what looks like a camping chair from an orange bag and turning it into an emergency gurney.
Then Vanessa takes over for Sam.
“Nessa,” Dean whispers as she cups his face in her hands. “I’m so- sorry. I couldn’t-”
Vanessa sniffs and shakes back tears “No apologies. Just stay with me. I need to assess the damage here, OK?”
He blinks slowly and gives her a lazy nod.
“Where’s most of the pain, Dean?”
Dean shakes his head to stay awake, blinking rapidly. “At the entry. Everything else just feels... warm.”
“OK.” She moves to the side to give Emma room to take Dean’s other side as Sam works on the rebar with the bolt cutters. “Get as close as you can, Sam.”
She finally glances around the barn to see several decapitated bodies, the heads donned with masks. Her blood runs cold, and her heart races.
“Hey,” Dean’s voice cracks. “Don’t look at them; look at me, honey.”
Vanessa drags her gaze from the grisly scene to Dean’s pale face. She nods and gives him a weak smile before wedging herself under the opposite arm as Emma, keeping her eyes on him as he asked.
“Your breathing is labored. I’m guessing Sam’s right, and it’s your heart.” Tears fill her eyes as Dean tilts his head to rest against hers. She whispers. “Maybe your left lung. You’re lucky. Nicole’s one of the top Vascular surgeons in the country.”
“OK, I got a grip on this thing. Count of three,” Sam says before counting down and cutting clean through the steel.
The women hold him steady while Sam helps guide Dean to the stretcher and carry him outside.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes as Vanessa kneels beside him. “If I make it through this-”
“When. Not if.” She dips in to kiss him, hovering over him while Sam and Emma work quickly to hide the bodies in the barn. “You’re gonna make it, and you’re gonna tell me what I just saw in there.”
Dean blinks, and tears roll from his eyes. “I will, honey. I will.”
The paramedics arrive moments after Sam and Emma exit the barn. Vanessa gives them his vitals and a partially fabricated info dump as they work to stabilize him. As they load him into the ambulance, she climbs in.
“I got him, Sam. Meet us at the hospital.” She closes the doors, and the ambulance takes off.
Dean wakes up in a brightly lit room. He remembers bits and pieces of a conversation that he fears and prays is real. When his vision clears, and he sees the person beside his bed, he’s 90% sure of what he remembers.
“Nicole?” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You an angel?”
Nicole smirks and arches a brow. “Cute. I’m your surgeon, tough guy. This is what we call a post-op check.”
He’s now 100% sure.
“Post-op? What op?” He tries to joke as he shifts his weight very slightly and groans in pain.
“You showed up here last night with a hunk of steel through your heart and lung. I took it out.” She checks his pulse, pokes at him, and prods. Dean’s 90% sure she’s being a little rougher than normal. “Good thing your brother didn’t ghost Emma like you ghosted Van.”
“Ow!” And 100% it is.
“And, hmm,” she taps her chin. “You do know my name.”
“‘Course I do, I’s just fuckin’ with ya.”
Nicole rolls her eyes. “You’re doing great, Dean. I’ll be back later to check in again. Meanwhile, there’s a couple of people here to see you.”
Nicole draws the curtain that separates Dean from the rest of the room. On the other side sits Sam and Vanessa.
“Eat something if you’re hungry; otherwise, rest.”
Nicole breezes out of the room, leaving Dean with Vanessa and Sam, the latter of whom stands next to Dean’s bed, looking down at his bruised and bandaged brother with a tired smile.
“You hungry? I can order you some food.”
“I’m starvin’, man. Get somethin’ bad for me.”
Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Sure thing. Be back in a bit.”
He gives Vanessa a pointed look as he leaves the room.
Vanessa remains seated on the vacant bed across from Dean’s. She’s silent and thoughtful.
“You uhh, workin’?”
She shakes her head. “Just finished my shift.”
Dean nods. He doesn’t know if he should jump right in or what, so he asks her a question.
“How much do you know?”
She draws a deep breath and sighs. “That you saved two little boys and probably dozens more the other night.”
Dean closes his eyes. “Vampires are real.”
“Jesus,” Vanessa whispers, standing and moving to the side of his bed. She grasps his hand tightly. “What else?”
“Ghosts, ghouls, shapeshifters, werewolves, fuckin’ demons. They’re all real. Angels.” He squeezes her hand. “Angels are dicks, by the way, which is kinda shitty that I asked Nicole if she was one after she saved my life.”
He chuckles, and Vanessa huffs a surprised laugh before settling on the edge of his bed. She strokes his forehead, and he hums. “I won’t say I wish you’d told me before now because I’m just grateful you’re alive to tell me now. Your recovery will be lengthy. You’ll need physical therapy.”
Dean reaches for her other hand, twining their fingers together and waiting for her to meet his gaze. “OK.”
“I’m not your doctor, so I can’t advise you officially, but as someone who loves you, I hope you’ll stay long enough for me to help and... for us to get reacquainted.”
Dean grins, realizing just how bone tired he truly is. He yawns through his grin and tugs her close.
Vanessa dips in to press a kiss to his forehead, each cheek, and his lips. “Please stay,” she whispers.
Dean tilts his chin and meets her lips again, brushing back and forth. “OK, kitten. You got me. As long as you want me.”
When Sam returns to Dean’s room, he finds Vanessa curled around him, keeping him safe and warm. She and Dean are both fast asleep, smiling and breathing steadily.
Sam leaves the macaroni and cheese on a tray and backs away to leave them in peace.
Series master list | Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist
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Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit
Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
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It's Mardi Gras!
Summary: He’s got a dirty mouth when he’s drunk.
Characters: Dean Winchester x You (female)
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, dirty talk, drunk fingering (it’s consensual) in a dirty public bathroom during Mardi Gras
Words: 650
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You squeal, spinning into the bathroom just as he throws the lock on the door.
Fuck the other patrons in this place. Yeah, it’s Mardi Gras. Yeah, it’s almost midnight and it’s been a day full of liquid imbibing for 99% of the people on the other side of that door.
But Dean’s had just enough whiskey to agree to it, so no one’s gonna stop him from pushing your shirt up over your satin-encased breasts as he backs you against the wall. No one’s getting in the way of his lips crashing against yours, teeth scraping, heavy breath and hands.
Especially not you.
“D’you see that girl’s face when we pushed passed her?” you whisper, arching your neck so he can feast on the salty-slick skin of your throat. “Can’t decide if she’s pissed we got here first, or that she’s not in here with you.”
Keep reading
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Hey! How are you? Hope you're doing great. 💖 We miss you on here.
Aww, man. Thanks. Things have been rough lately, but they’re looking up.
Today is my last day at my current job!
💖💖💖
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BLACK TIE OPTIONAL: PART THREE
Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit, male modelin' sonsabitches, schmoop, "one thing about Dean Winchester is, if a Toddler handed him a toy phone, he'd answer it"
Words in this part: 3K
Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.
Thank you, @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for the read-throughs and greenlight.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Final Part
PART THREE
Her alarm goes off at 8:30 AM. As she blinks her eyes open and draws a deep breath, she acknowledges the unfamiliar signs of a good night’s sleep. She’s rested and ready for a day of bridesmaid duties in a way she’s never been.
Before she can focus on any single point in the dim room, her body instinctively burrows into the warm, solid figure curled around her back.
Dean mumbles behind her, tucking his hips against her and sliding a knee between her thighs. Vanessa’s eyelids flutter, and her breath stutters.
She’s never considered herself a cuddler. She likes her space and doesn’t like being restricted. She finds it hard to sleep soundly with another person in the same bed.
But Dean is different.
“Mornin’,” he mumbles, nuzzling the side of her neck and dragging his lips across one shoulder.
Vanessa clasps a hand over the one palming her belly. “How’d you sleep?” She reluctantly rolls to face him, not wanting to break the bubble of bliss, but loving the reward of his beautiful face.
“Good,” he mutters, rubbing one eye while keeping the other on her. “You snore. But like a cute li’l motor purr. Lulled me right to sleep.”
Vanessa scoffs. “What? No one’s ever told me that.”
Dean chuckles and reaches for her, and her insides flip. “Everybody snores, don't they?”
She gives up being offended or questioning what it means that she was snoring and lets him pull her close. He rolls to his back, dragging her across him, and her knees easily slot on either side of his hips. He gently smooths away the hairs that have escaped the hair tie before arching up to kiss her.
Vanessa doesn’t flinch from morning breath or the sticky heat striping the insides of her thighs. She revels in the feel of him strong and sound under her as his hands trail her shoulders and down her back to trace the seam and curve of her ass until he’s grasping the backs of her thighs.
“Nice and snug,” he whispers against her ear.
Vanessa hums and rests her head in the center of his chest. Her eyes follow the tip of her finger as it outlines his tattoo, and she wonders if he’ll ever tell her how this occultist-looking symbol has anything to do with his family’s private investigation business. She wonders, not for the first time, how he got all his scars.
“What time you gotta be somewhere?” He drags his fingers up over her ass and back down, and his dick twitches hot at her slick opening.
“Eleven. But Emma and I were talking about going down to the gym before we have to be at the salon.”
Dean grunts. “Might wanna check in with her first.”
Vanessa chuckles, pushing up to look him in the eye. “What d’you know?”
He smirks, gripping her hips to grind up against her. “Got up at four for some water, she was making all kindsa noise. Sammy, too.”
“Fucken-A, good for her.” She lets Dean roll her to her back and knee between her thighs, reaching down to guide himself inside her. They both groan and Vanessa lifts her knees to wrap her legs around his hips.
“Fucken-A, right, good for him, too.” Dean swivels his hips before giving her a heavy thrust and dropping his forehead to the pillow beside her head. “I love morning sex.”
“Me, too,” she whispers, nestling against his cheek before he rises up again to set that slow and steady pace she’s dreamed about for the last year without him.
--
“Gotta admit,” Emma pauses for the makeup artist to finish her lips with gloss, mumbling ‘thank you’ before continuing her confession to Vanessa. “I was unconvinced by your claims that Dean Winchester had somehow revolutionized the way you see other men and sex, but...”
She glances around the salon to the other bridesmaids before leaning into Vanessa.
“If he’s anything like his brother, my god.”
Vanessa nods, thanking the woman putting the finishing touches on her own lips, then turns to Emma. “There’s something to be said about the fuck of your life, no lie.”
“No fuckin’ lie.” Emma settles back into her spa chair, reaching for the remote control to activate the massager. “His hands... size is officially a kink for me now. Hands, shoulders, his dick, Vanessa.”
Vanessa laughs out loud, handing her a fresh bottle of water. “Hydrate. And pace yourself. If you recall, I was in a fucking daze for weeks after my last encounter with Dean.”
Emma accepts the bottle with a tilt of her head. She snaps the cap open, studying her friend as she scrolls her phone and waits for the next professional beautifier to start on their pedicures, recalling those weeks with clarity.
She’s known Vanessa since college. They were in a sorority together with Nicole, Katie, and Toni. She and Vanessa went to nursing school after college, and for the last five years, she’s spent every Happy Hour, brunch, and birthday party with her. Vanessa’s always been even-tempered, consistent, and predictable. Emma’s never known her to get hung up on much of anything.
Then, last summer, after one night with Dean, she spent the next six weeks distracted and disorganized. Emma and Katie talked about confronting her, but Nicole and Toni said they should give her space. She finally got back to her old self, but Emma definitely wouldn’t forget those weeks.
“How was your night?” she asks, slightly changing the subject.
“Good.” Vanessa’s head bobs. “Chill, ya know, pacing myself.”
Underneath the 16-hour make-up, Emma can see her cheeks flush with emotion. She doesn’t want to pry, so she takes a sip of water and leaves what Vanessa isn’t saying to filter in the air.
“Good. Chill’s good. Anyway, not to be dramatic, but it’s not just big. OK?”
Vanessa snorts and busts into a fit of giggles, and Emma’s happy to oblige.
“Just big could be a potential disaster. Remember that Croatian I took home from Tao two summers ago? What a dolt. I was sore for a week and not in a good way. But Sam can do anything with that thing. I could just sit and admire it for hours and be in tears.”
Vanessa cackles. “Paint still life art.”
“Still life art!” Emma hollers.
“Jesus Christ, you two are traumatizing the entire city block,” Nicole hisses from across the room.
Emma and Vanessa roll their eyes, and Katie chuckles beside Nicole, patting her arm.
“What’s the matter, Nic, not gettin’ the good dick lately?” Toni mutters from the main chair before wincing painfully. “Ow! Why did I agree to an updo?”
“Because you liked my wedding hair, Tenderhead, but I warned you,” Nicole answers.
Emma snorts, comfortably warmed by the easy camaraderie of her circle of friends. When she glances sideways at Vanessa, the best of the bunch, Vanessa’s staring dreamily at her phone.
“What’s Hottie #1 up to?” Emma asks.
Vanessa squirms a little and bites her lip, and Emma feels that swoon in the depths of her soul.
“They went to DMK for burgers.” She turns the phone to show Emma a picture of Dean, looking like Shaggy Rogers with a double triple-decker sandwich and a mile-wide grin. “Dork.”
Emma chuckles. “Cute and funny on top of looking like that and being a gentleman? Dangerous.”
Vanessa tenses before placing her phone face down on the side table. “He’s pretty great.” She focuses on the nail technician as he takes a seat in front of the foot bath, chewing the inside of her lip with a furrowed brow.
Emma’s quiet for a while. She really doesn’t want to pry, but she also can’t stand to watch her friend deny herself the possibility of something amazing out of fear. Another pedicurist sits at Emma’s feet, and once they’re each into their work, she tries a new tactic.
“Do you remember that guy Nico from freshman year in the dorms? Before we rushed?”
Vanessa turns her furrowed brow to her friend. “I think so. He worked in the fitness center, right?”
Emma nodded. “We went out once.”
“I didn’t know that!”
“Nobody did.” Emma shrugged, looking down at the man quietly trimming her toenails. “I never told anyone.”
“Why not?”
“At the time I thought it was because I was embarrassed that he was so rough or whatever. Like he was all tatted up with that mohawk, but like...” She looks back at her friend and shakes her head. “The way he made me feel scared the shit outta me.”
Vanessa blinks then slides her gaze to the man working on her feet.
“Then I told myself I wasn’t ready, then I met Josh.” She shrugs. “I sound like some old maid tryna distill my wisdom to you, but I’m just calling it like I see it.”
Vanessa sighs and rolls her neck one way then the other. “He’s 10 years older than me, Em. And I don’t even know what he does for a job. We barely know each other.”
“Bullshit. He knows you better than you’re willing to admit. Who cares what the family business is?”
Vanessa arches a brow in her direction.
“Yeah, Sam has the same tattoo. Plus, Van, he’s like 37.”
“How do you know that?”
“I ask questions and can do basic math.”
Vanessa shakes her head, and her phone vibrates again. She picks it up and swipes it open to look at the new image she received. When she shows Emma her phone screen, she’s treated to an image of Sam taking a large bite of kale and chicken salad with Dean’s thumb pointed down in the foreground.
Emma makes a mock pout. “Oh, Sam — the burdens of maintaining that beautiful body.”
Vanessa laughs again as she turns her camera to snap a shot of herself and Emma to send back to Dean.
“What if they’re in the mafia or something?”
“Like we’ve never dated anyone related to the mafia, please.”
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “That’s my point. But I’m kidding, I don’t get that vibe from them, but what’s with all the scars?”
Emma shrugs. “Sam has ‘em, too. I dunno, but have you ever felt so safe with a guy?”
Vanessa shakes her head. “That’s what I mean. I don’t get the possessive tough guy vibe, just... badass. Kind, generous, gorgeous badass.”
“Right. So do you really wanna let him walk away again?”
Vanessa sighs, dropping her head against the backrest before playfully glaring at her friend. “Why can’t you be a bad friend for once?”
“Not in my nature.”
They both laugh.
--
After Vanessa and Emma left the hotel for their spa appointment, Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. He doesn’t know what happened in Vanessa’s past to convince her that he’d reject her so easily, but if things were different for Dean, he’d do the exact opposite and hold her close.
The night they met, she asked him to make a scene, and he did. He wants to do it again, but in a different kind of way because she deserves everything she wants.
“Sammy!” Dean adjusts his tie and pockets his wallet. “Meet ya downstairs; gotta get Baby from valet.”
“Be there in five,” Sam calls from his and Emma’s room.
Dean holsters his Colt inside his waistband at his back. They haven’t seen any trouble since they arrived yesterday, but he isn’t taking any chances. Before he walks out the door, he slides into his suit jacket and settles his shades in place.
He and Sam arrive at the church a respectable 30 minutes before the ceremony, dressed to the nines. They hang around outside with the rest of the guests until the doors are opened. Several guests stare at them, and it makes Sam uncomfortable.
“What’re these people staring at?” He fidgets and tries to make himself smaller.
“We’re a coupla handsome sonsabitches, Sammy. They can’t help themselves.” Dean drags his attention from his phone after checking messages. “Still no news, by the way, so I guess we can relax.”
“Is that why you brought your .45?”
Before Dean can answer his cranky baby brother, the doors to the church open and the guests begin filing inside.
“Can never be too careful, now, shut up and get inside.”
In the foyer of the church, the wedding party is greeting the guests. Dean spots her within a second and stops in his tracks, pulling his sunglasses off to get a better look at her. She’s wearing a full-length, dark brown silk gown. It’s sleeveless with a high neck and a low, open back. She’s laughing, and Dean’s heart picks up its pace.
Emma appears at her side, also in a long silk gown of a different color, and Vanessa scans the crowd. When her eyes land on Dean, they go wide, and her jaw drops. Emma turns to see what Vanessa’s looking at and soon her expression is matching.
Dean impatiently waits for the other guests to get out of his way so he can get his hands on her.
“Wow.” Vanessa shakes her head in awe once Dean is in front of her. “You look—”
“Nah.” Dean hooks an arm around her waist to pull her in for a quick kiss. “I’m just tryna keep up with you.”
Vanessa murmurs, “If I had even five extra minutes, I’d take you to the nearest closet and be on my knees.”
“Mmm, careful, Nessa, I gotta go sit in a church pew for the next 45 to an hour.”
“Break it up.” Emma smirks, looping her arm through Vanessa’s to untangle her from Dean’s arms. “Time to line up, Van.”
Vanessa whines and practically stomps her foot, and Dean chuckles, watching Vanessa and Emma hurry to catch up with the rest of the party.
“Damn,” he mutters as they disappear down the stairs of the church.
“No kidding,” Sam agrees. “Talk about a couple of good-looking people.”
“Did you hear what she said to me?”
“I didn’t. But it couldn’t have been better than what Emma said to me.”
Dean shoots his brother a look of surprise. “Well, look at you, little brother.”
--
“This day has been filled with the longest stretches of time we’ve been still in... ever.”
After the very long, sobering ceremony, Dean and Sam are waiting outside for their dates. It takes longer than they expected, but Dean doesn’t mind the downtime.
“Yeah, I kinda like it.”
“Since when? You rarely even sleep more than four hours a night.”
“I dunno, man, since Amara, maybe? I just... I could get used to this normal shit once in a while is all I’m sayin’.”
Sam puzzles over his brother’s assertion until he spots Emma and Vanessa descending the stairs toward them. He’s taken aback once again by how beautiful Emma is and how she makes him feel normal. That realization is a bit of an a-ha moment for him regarding what Dean just said.
“Hey,” he greets his date with a smile.
“So,” Emma begins, twisting her fingers in the lapels of Sam’s jacket and pulling herself into him. “We can either follow the limo on a bar crawl, or you can take me back to the room right now, and—”
“What a lovely ceremony!” An older lady appears at Vanessa’s side, holding the hand of the flower girl, interrupting Emma’s most certainly obscene proposition. “Wasn’t that lovely?”
“Silvia, how are you?” Vanessa greets the woman and then crouches down to address the little girl. “Oh, my goodness, Ari, you did such a good job with the flowers! How old are you now?”
“Four,” the little girl answers, awkwardly showing Vanessa four little fingers before peeking up at the man behind Vanessa. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, umm,” Vanessa follows Ari’s line of sight to see Dean squatting down beside her.
“Hi, Ari. I’m Dean.” He extends his open hand to her as an introduction, and Ari drops her plump little fist into his palm. Dean smiles, gently curling his hand around hers to shake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Hi,” she says, blushing and twirling where she stands, and holding onto his hand. “Do you like my dress?”
Dean fixes his expression with affected surprise. “‘Course, I do! It’s bright and beautiful, just like you.”
Vanessa is captivated by the ease with which he interacts with a preschooler. Just like the night before after her slip-up with Toni’s mom, he takes it all in stride.
“What do you say, Ari?” Silvia asks.
“Thank you,” the little girl mumbles before turning and hiding in her grandmother’s skirt.
Dean chuckles, and he and Vanessa rise to stand. He wraps an arm around her waist as Silvia explains the reason she has Ari to herself is because her son had to work unexpectedly.
“So, no Daddy-daughter practice dance for Ari tonight. Well, we better get going, Ari. We need to get you something to eat. We’ll see you all at the reception, huh?”
Silvia says her goodbyes and walks away.
“Where’s her mom?” he asks, watching the woman and her granddaughter cross the street to the parking lot.
“She left right after Ari was born. No one’s seen her since.”
Dean winces. “Poor kid.”
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Nicole sighs as she saunters toward them, looking anything but contrite. “Antonia wants the entire wedding party to be on this pub crawl, so no hotel room quickie or whatever you had planned during the cocktail hour.”
She somehow succeeds in side-eying Vanessa, Dean, Emma, and Sam all at the same time.
“Of course, that doesn’t preclude any of you from hand jobs in the Batmobile.”
She rolls her eyes and chuckles as she turns on her heel to the limo where Zach is waiting for her. He waves over her head at the four of them and calls out.
“We’ll wait for ya to pull around behind us and follow!”
Dean nods back before sliding his shades on. “Alright, kids, let’s hit it.”
He offers his elbow to Vanessa, and Sam does the same for Emma before they follow in Silvia’s footsteps to the parking lot.
Final Part
Series master list | Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist
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Black Tie Optional: part three TEASER
“Mornin’,” he mumbles, inhaling along the side of her neck and dragging his lips across one shoulder.
Vanessa clasps a hand over his knuckles, where his arm drapes her midsection. “Morning. Did you sleep OK?”
She gently wiggles and rolls to face him. She doesn’t want to break the bubble of bliss, but she can’t resist looking at his face.
“Fuck yeah,” he mutters, rubbing one eye while keeping the other focused on her. “You snore. But like a lil purring motor. Lulled me right to sleep.”
Vanessa scoffs, pushing up onto her elbow. “I snore? No one’s ever told me that.”
Dean chuckles and grins, and her belly flips as he reaches for her. “Everybody snores, don't they?”
She gives up being offended or questioning what it means that she was snoring and lets him pull her close as he rolls to his back. Her knees easily slot on either side of his hips, and his hands smooth stray hairs from her face before he arches up to kiss her.
CATCH UP NOW
Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit
Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.
Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three
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Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Pollen | Dreams | Fairytales | Zanna | and some things more nefarious.
Pollen
A Fight For Love & Glory - Winchesters x you (female)
Summary: You’re struck by sex pollen, so Sam and Dean agree to help you out.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, feelings of guilt, ass play, dirty talk, W*ncest adjacent
Words: 2K
Magic Sex & French Fries - Jo Harvelle x Ruby 2.0
Prompt: Great Big Lesbian prompt: SPN, Jo and Ruby II have to have sex to save the world. Or something. Sex pollen? I don’t care. 😘
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, fisting, confuzzled boys
Words: 1K
Bad Girls Underneath - Ruby 2.0 x Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle
Summary: Ruby and Jojo get hit by a sex curse again; this time, they need Dean’s help.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, magical-dick/male-gaze bullshit, probably too much commentary and emotional complication, why am I like this, I’m sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself, fisting, brief choking
Words: 2,600
Dreamy/dreams
Cactus - Dean Winchester x Meg Masters x Castiel
Summary: Post-battle, exhausted and wanting, Dean and Meg and Cas take care of each other.
Warnings/Tags: 18+ ONLY, dreamlike sex, a little choking, Dean’s always hungry
Words: 3,200
I’ll Keep Them Still - Dean Winchester x Jo Harvelle
Summary: Dean remembers promises and pictures in his mind. And he remembers her.
Warnings/tags: mature, songfic, angst, dream/afterlife sequences, purple prose, I’m sorry
Words: 1,100
Moving Furniture - Steve!Cas x Meg Masters 2.0
Summary: She’s been gone for a year – sacrificed herself to save Sam and her unicorn – but Cas still dreams about her.
Warnings/tags: non-explicit dream sex, fluff, shmoop, there’s a dog
Words: 2K
If You Don’t, Dear, Confess - Sam Winchester x Rowena Macleod
Prompt: Sam has dream about being seduced by Rowena in the bunker that gets interrupted/woken by Dean?
Warnings: mature
Words: 620
Fairytales
Hark and Hush - Purgatory Dean x wolf spirit in a female body
Summary: This is the story of how Dean Winchester hunted, became enamored with, and slew the ancient spirit of the Big Bad Wolf.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester, stalking, blood, gore, rough sex, character death
Words: 2,200
More Nefarious *dubious consent
His Sword - Michael/Dean x female prostitute
Summary: Michael takes some time to remind Dean who’s in control.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, edge play, bondage, knife play, blood play, choking, rough sex, name-calling, character death
Words: 2,300
Supernova - MOC Dean Winchester x female reader
Summary: Since Dean’s had the Mark and the Blade, he’s pulled away from you, afraid of hurting you. You miss him, and you’ve had it. One night you push him to the edge.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, bondage, blood play, biting, bruising, knifeplay, rough sex, dubcon/mindfuck
Words: 2,500
Zanna
Just My Imagination - Dean Winchester x female Zanna
Summary: After Mary leaves the boys a second time, Dean needs a reset, or to blow off some steam – something. He heads out on a snowy evening the night before Christmas and finds just the right thing.
Warnings/tags: mature, Hallmark channel fuckery
Words: 2,800
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Tell me in the tags what fandoms you'd like to see me write in.
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Prompt: Great Big Lesbian prompt: SPN, Jo and Ruby II have to have sex to save the world. Or something. Sex pollen? I don’t care. 😘
Characters: Ruby 2.0 x Jo Harvelle, Winchester brothers
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, sex pollen, fisting, confuzzled boys
Words: 995
AN: page divider by @there-must-be-a-lock
+
“The fuck’ve you guys been?” Dean rants and Sam slides a hand over his shoulder to slow his onslaught.
Ruby rolls her eyes, and Jo looks apologetic. “We got…” Jo holds her breath and looks to Ruby for help.
In response, Ruby arches a brow and shrugs.
Ruby doesn’t think it’s anybody’s business ‘the fuck’ they’ve been – least of all Dean’s.
“This is insane,” Jo breathes, fingers tangling in Ruby’s chestnut waves, lips and tongue, twisting with the demon’s. “What’s happening?”
“Don’t question it,” Ruby says, yanking at the brass button-fly of Jo’s soft, faded blue jeans.
Everything about Jo is soft. Ruby remembers a lot about being human – a lot of pain and loss and fear. She remembers men. She remembers hard things.
“Just relax,” Ruby whispers, cupping Jo’s jaw, gently sucking her lips. “This way.” She backs up a few steps to a couch, pulling Jo with her.
Keep reading
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BLACK TIE OPTIONAL: PART TWO
Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen (background)
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit, IDK if this is angst or not, but there are feels
Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.
We’re skipping to the actual rehearsal because, as an ex-event professional, I tend to get bogged down by etiquette and details instead of the shenanigans that Dean and Vanessa have come to be known for and which we all love. So, we will remain in tight focus on those two and in vaseline-lensed focus on the event itself.
Thanks, as always, to @stunudo and @brrose-apothecary for pre-reading and being my friends.
PART TWO
“Dude, this food,” Sam whispers, scanning the room. “But this place is huge and heavily staffed. Remember the last time we were in Chicago?"
Dean ignores Sam’s concern over supernatural crime families in favor of delicious, impeccably presented food.
“It’s just... tacos? But not.” Dean stares at the spread of the taco bar. “Sorcery.”
“Dean... Lassiter? Duval? Any of this ringing a bell?”
Dean shrugs. “That was, what, two years ago? Not our problem — especially if you stop saying their names out loud.”
Then his eyes go wide. “What is this?!” He scoops mango salsa onto his plate like he’s never seen a mango in his life.
Sam pulls a face, realizing that Dean has probably not ever seen a mango in his life and remembered it fondly, and chooses not to tell Dean that there’s fresh, healthy fruit in what he’s putting on his plate. He’d rather Dean be pleasantly surprised by the topping.
“Hey,” Emma pops up next to them, fidgeting and forcing a smile. “Our table’s over there whenever you guys’re ready.”
The boys stare at her for a moment because her voice is pitched higher than it was when she was visibly more relaxed in their suite, and her smile looks painful. She motions to a table where Vanessa appears to be barely surviving the onslaught of three other women.
“Hopefully sooner rather than later?” Emma turns back to face the boys with flushed cheeks and pleading eyes.
Dean peeks around her. “What’s up over there?”
“Nicole’s grilling Van about you being here and asking a bunch of questions about you.” She motions to Dean and Sam respectively before reaching between them for a tortilla chip to scoop into the mango salsa before shoving it into her mouth.
“Who’s Nicole?” Sam asks, also scooping into the mango salsa.
Dean rolls his eyes and answers with his mouth full. “The bride from the last wedding, total ‘zilla.”
“God, that salsa’s good,” Emma mutters, licking her lips as she swipes the salt from her fingers. “Anyway, we need you.”
Sam draws a breath, getting pulled into the verdant depths of Emma’s desperate gaze. He soaks in her anxious vibrations for a moment, then deftly sets the spoon aside to give her his full attention and warmest smile.
“Lead the way,” he says, stepping away from the table with his plate in one hand and the other on the small of her back.
Dean watches his brother glide through the crowd like a white knight. He considers making a joke of asking Sam if he lost his soul again somewhere between the guacamole and sour cream but opts out, realizing that his little brother is as committed to showing up for Emma as Dean is to Vanessa. He follows the couple to their table without any wisecracks.
Sam wedges his gigantic frame between the pack of bridesmaids and a couple of chairs; one he pulls out for Emma, the other he barely squeezes himself into. One of the women scoffs and stumbles like Sam shoved her or something, which he didn’t, but he does remain a buffer between his date and the Mean Girls.
Dean is inspired.
He winks at his brother and Emma as he swaggers past the group of women. Two of them he doesn’t recognize gawk at him as Nicole glares.
He sets his plate on the table and mirrors Sam’s actions by pulling out and patiently holding Vanessa’s chair for her. “Hungry, kitten?”
Vanessa grins and wiggles out of the circle of women.
“Hi, Dean,” Nicole says like they’re old friends or enemies. He forgot how fucking bitchy her voice and facial expressions are. He thinks she must be a miserable person and not just on her own wedding day.
He tosses her a polite nod. “Hey, Tracy.”
Vanessa tries not to cackle at his consistently intentional misnaming of her frenemy and Nicole’s subsequent sneer of derision.
“I am hungry,” she says, smoothing her skirt and pivoting to take the proffered seat, but before she can sit down, Dean leans into her with a conspiratorial smirk.
“Missed you,” he coos, kissing her smirk.
And sparks fly.
--
They’re seated with Nicole and Katie and their respective partners, which should be uncomfortable since Nicole is doing her best to make it so, but Dean can’t be bothered to care.
Vanessa’s skin is like a fucking beacon to his senses. He can’t keep his hands or lips to himself, and Vanessa purrs like a real kitten in response. Dean starts to feel a little high from the simple acts of a traditional couple.
“Sir? Another tequila?”
“Uhh,” Dean blinks, pausing to look down at his half-empty rocks glass. He’s ordered two tequilas on the rocks since they’ve been downstairs, which isn’t a lot for him, but he doesn’t want it to be, either. “You know what, I’ll take a beer.”
“Yes, sir.” The server produces a small drink menu. “We have a selection of—”
Dean waves his hand. “Just somethin’ three-point-whatever.” He leans nearer to the server but doesn’t lower his voice at all, so everyone within earshot can hear him. “Don’t wanna disappoint my girl later, know what I’m sayin’?”
He winks before settling back into his seat with his arm stretched across the back of Vanessa's chair, and the server discreetly nods and tucks the menu away. “Yes, sir.”
“You could never disappoint me,” Vanessa reassures him like they talk this way all the time.
Nicole and Katie give each other a look while Zach and Ryan appear to be rethinking their beverage choices.
Dean knows, though, that he could and will disappoint Vanessa. Not tonight, probably, but it will happen. Instead of saying that out loud, he focuses on showing her a good time like he planned.
“So,” Nicole sighs as she tosses her used napkin to her plate. “Are you guys coming to Brando’s?”
Dean arches a brow and shifts his gaze to his brother with a pointed look.
“Babe?” Sam looks at Emma. “I know you’re tired, but we can probably go for one, don’t you think?”
Emma grins. “You’re right. We should show.”
Sam nods before looking back at Nicole. “I’m sorry, we’ve had dinner together and still haven’t met. I’m Sam, Emma’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend. What about Joshua?”
Nicole motions across the room where a group of Abercrombie rejects are measuring each other’s dicks. The guy doing most of the talking has his arm tightly wrapped around a girl who appears no older than 18 and is absolutely enthralled by the conversation.
“Apparently, the new girl enjoys lengthy descriptions of his watch collection,” Vanessa mutters at Dean’s side.
Dean can feel his lip curl because he looks like the leader of that pack of douchebags he hustled the night Rowena tried to kill him. The first time.
Nicole turns back to face the group. “Last I heard, you were still crying your eyes out over him.”
“Hmm.” Sam furrows his brow. “That must’ve been a while ago.”
The smirk on Sam’s face sends Dean into the stratosphere.
“Well, let’s get the bar outta the way.” Dean pushes away from the table to stand, holding out a hand from Vanessa. “We still got catchin’ up to do, kitten.”
Vanessa takes his hand, barely stifling a giggle.
“Yes, Dean, we all know what you mean by catching up.” Nicole rolls her eyes as she stands, smoothing the front of her dress. “Also, did I miss the memo on matching our dates like it’s prom?”
“C’mon, Nicki,” Zach nudges his wife.
Katie and the groomsmen have warmed up to the brothers and don’t seem to have ever shared Nicole’s animosity toward Vanessa — and, now, Emma by extension — and Nicole herself has evened out a bit, but she’s still got some snark left in her.
“What? We aren’t matching. Katie and Ryan aren’t matching. But Van and Dean look like they’re headed to a red carpet somewhere.”
“A red carpet or prom?” Emma pokes the bear.
“Shut up, Emma.”
Nobody hides their snorts and laughter as they all leave the table to head out for the bar.
Before they can get out the door, the mother of the bride stops them. She’s petite with dark red hair, dark eyes, and a bright smile.
“Oh, Van, you look so pretty.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Ricci.” Vanessa hugs the woman.
Dean watches Vanessa twirl at the woman’s request to see the back. He didn’t realize it before Nicole said something, but the flowers intertwined with black lace skulls on her bodice match his dark red pants.
“What a unique dress. You have such great taste! All you girls look so pretty!”
There’s a chorus of “thanks, Mrs. Ricci” from Katie, Emma, and Nicole.
“How long are we staying out?” Sam asks Dean, pulling his attention from Vanessa, who shines like a diamond in a coal mine.
“Up to them, I guess,” Dean mutters, never taking his eyes off her.
“Well, you kids have fun tonight,” Mrs. Ricci says. “But don’t stay out too late! And don’t let Toni drink too much. You know how she bloats, and we can barely get her into her dress as it is.”
Vanessa looks desperate to run from the extended conversation. He doesn’t want to insert himself unless she asks, but decides to test the waters.
“Hey, sweetheart, you ready?”
Vanessa looks up at him with relief and gratitude, clasping her hand in his. Butterflies flap their wings in her gut, and she tries to remind herself that the look in his eyes is temporary and meant as a show.
“Well... who’s the handsome gentleman, Van?”
Vanessa smiles, turning back to face Mrs. Ricci. “This is—”
“Dean.” Dean extends his free hand to Mrs. Ricci, and she accepts. He turns her wrist and kisses the back of her hand. “I’m this beautiful girl’s plus one.”
Mrs. Ricci raises her eyebrows and nods, eyeing them closely. “I see... I didn’t know you had someone, Van. You make a lovely couple. How long have you been together?”
“Little over a year, ma’am,” Dean easily answers.
“Well, then, I guess you’ll be talking marriage soon as well. You better catch that bouquet tomorrow!” Mrs. Ricci teases Vanessa.
“Oh, we’re all set!” Vanessa chirps, not realizing how what she’s just said sounds.
“Really?!” Mrs. Ricci’s eyes go wide. “When’s the wedding?”
Vanessa blinks as her skin prickles. “Next fall?”
“Congratulations!”
“Yeah, congrats, Van,” Nicole deadpans with a roll of her eyes because even she knows this is all an act. “Are we going or what?”
Vanessa keeps her eyes on anyone but her date for the rest of their night out.
--
Dean gently closes the door to their lock-off, shutting out Emma’s squeals of delight and Sam’s laughter. He watches Vanessa busy herself around the room as he unfastens the cuffs of his button-up and rolls up his sleeves.
He isn’t well-practiced in relationships. He and Cassie always fought, and Lisa was easygoing. His relationship with Vanessa was never supposed to reach this level, so he isn’t sure how to break the tension.
“Hey.”
Vanessa's wary gaze doesn’t quite meet his. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth.”
She motions toward the vanity and takes the last few steps barefoot to get there. Dean appears behind her in the mirror as she reaches for the toothpaste.
“Give it a minute.” Dean touches her wrist.
Vanessa tenses. “I don't know why I reacted that way.”
Dean shakes his head. “Turn around.”
She sighs and slumps in defeat before turning toward him with her eyes on the floor.
“Look at me.”
She swallows and reluctantly drags her gaze upward. “Dean, I’m sor—”
He pulls her in, wrapping her in his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She asked when we were getting married, and I said next fall.”
Her voice is muffled against his chest, but she sounds miserable, and Dean can’t help but chuckle.
He pulls back to look her in the eye. “Who’re you worried about? That old lady?”
Vanessa blinks away the onslaught of embarrassed tears from her eyes. “You, Dean. Aren’t you... freaked or mad or...”
Dean shakes his head, grabbing a tissue for her. “Why would I be mad? Or freaked.”
She takes the tissue, and he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the wall. He likes being with her, but he isn’t marrying anyone any time soon — they both know that. What bothers him right now is that she regrets such a simple blunder.
Vanessa dabs at the corners of her eyes and sniffles. “I said that... so now you probably think I’m clingy. And now I’m crying.”
She throws her hands up in the air and focuses on Dean, who’s watching her with a quiet smile and, if she isn’t mistaken, amusement.
“Why are you smiling like that?! You didn’t sign up for this!”
“Nessa.” Dean pushes away from the wall to gently grasp her shoulders. “If you had any idea what my brother and I do? You’d get how you could never turn me off short of becoming an actual fucking monster. I can’t quit you.”
Vanessa closes her eyes and sighs. “The problem is that I like you, Dean. A lot.”
She opens her eyes, and Dean’s face has shifted to an unbearably soft melancholy. He nods, holding her gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”
“But we barely know each other,” she continues, taking a step forward and smoothing a palm down the sateen placard of his black button-up. “And you have some secret and dangerous job that I’ll never understand.”
“What makes you think it’s dangerous?” Dean sits back against the edge of the bathroom counter, wrapping his hands around her lace-enveloped ribcage, and lets her wedge herself between his open knees.
Her eyes land on his mouth. He’s so beautiful. She’s told him a dozen times. But he’s also a walking, talking mountain of trauma, and Vanessa guesses that damage extends beyond physical.
“Scar tissue, for one.” She reaches for his right hand and raises it between the two of them, knuckles up. “And busted knuckles?”
“Just a bar fight, honey,” Dean mutters, and Vanessa huffs a wry laugh, rolling her eyes up at him again.
“Maybe, but I doubt it.” She doesn’t drop her gaze as she dips in to press a kiss to his healing knuckles. “I’ve never known what I wanted in the long run, but... I know I want you. Now.”
Dean eyes her quietly for a moment before dipping in to kiss her. “You got me.”
He kisses her for a long time, pushing one hand up into the back of her hair and resting the other over her clavicle and breastbone. His thumb and first two fingers dance along either side of her neck, and she moans into his mouth.
He stands and steps away from the vanity, pulling her with him toward the bed, kissing her the whole way. She works on the buttons of his shirt as he opens the zipper of her dress. Black and red lace and chiffon flutter to the floor, and she walks over it.
Once she has his shirt undone and pulled from his pants, she slides her hands over his hot skin and pushes the garment to the floor. Dean stops at the edge of the bed with his hands on her waist as she pulls his belt and oxblood pants open and off.
“Hey.” Dean clasps her hand in his before she can reach inside his boxers. “Just listen a minute, OK?”
Vanessa slowly brings her anxious gaze to meet his.
“You’re, what, 26 years old?”
She drops her eyes and starts to pull away. “Twenty-seven, and I don’t need your condescension.”
“No, no, no.” Dean grasps her wrists in his hands and pulls her in again. “Not condescending, reassuring. Nessa... you don’t need to have anything figured out right now. You got your whole beautiful, perfect life ahead of you to fuck up and win.”
Her brow furrows, and Dean grins.
“Sometimes I wish somebody’d told me that when I was 27.”
Even if someone had told him, Dean had and has a different life than hers. His path was cut out for him long ago, and all he can do is live it, get up, and kick ass. It still would have been nice to hear.
Vanessa turns into him again, resting her hands on his beautifully scarred and tattooed chest. She lightly traces a long-healed gash until she runs into his tattoo and circles it.
“You my guru, now?” She flicks her eyes up to his.
Dean shrugs, sliding his hands up her sides along her bodysuit's soft, plain black fabric. “Can be anything you want.”
She closes her eyes and leans in to kiss his sternum. She hums and drags her lips to one of his nipples, gently pulling it between her damp lips.
Dean groans, smoothing a hand down the back of her long, wavy tresses before briefly pulling away.
“Just—” he sighs and closes his eyes from her wide, bright gaze to compose himself. “Believe me when I say that one little slip of the tongue ain’t enough to ruin a great weekend with one of the most gorgeous, delightful women I’ve ever been with in my life.”
Vanessa tosses her head back and laughs.
“Seriously,” Dean continues as Vanessa pushes him back to sit on the bed, giggling the whole way.
“You smell good, you’re beautiful.” As he lists off the things he likes about her, Vanessa climbs astride his lap. “You laugh at my terrible jokes. Your voice alone is enough to give me wood, I’m not even kidding.”
“Dean.”
“Yeah?”
She wiggles a little, making him whimper and grip her hips, and drapes her arm over his shoulders to finger the velvety nape of his neck.
“Thank you. I like being with you, too.”
He smiles, and she pitches forward to kiss him.
“Then why don’t you tell me about everything I missed,” he mutters around her lips.
“When?” she breathes into his mouth.
“When I wasn’t with you, and you couldn’t get off without me.” Dean holds her close as he moves back to the mountain of fluffed-up hotel pillows.
“Mmm... Which time?” She steadies herself as he gets situated, watching his skin ripple over muscle.
“Start at the beginning.” He settles in, giving her his full attention, his hands sliding up her thighs to shroud her hips. “What made you realize thinking about me— about us together’d do the trick?”
Vanessa bites her lip, her cheeks flush dark pink, and her eyelids flutter.
Dean chuckles, reaching up to pull the front of her strapless bodysuit down, freeing her breasts. “Did you think about how I held you up and drilled you ‘til you soaked the bed of that swank hotel?”
“Jesus.” Vanessa grinds over him, leaning backward on her hands, and arching her spine. “Yes...”
He cups and squeezes one breast, then hooks three fingers around the front of the thong bottom of the body suit to knuckle at her opening.
“Did you think about me for seven days after?”
Vanessa nods, blindly grinding against his hand. “At first, it was your voice— it was when I was alone. I tried to remember... the way it rumbles your chest when you call me kitten.”
“Uh-huh.” Dean does his best to keep his voice warm and deep. “You’re so slick and hot right now, kitten. I’m here now.”
Vanessa lurches up and forward to brace her palms against his chest. “Keep talking.”
“You look so pretty, grindin’ against my fist. All open and juicy, so sexy. You gonna get yourself off like this?”
“God, Dean.” Vanessa grips his wrist and ruts against his knuckles hard, digging her blunt fingernails into his chest.
Dean hisses and whispers. “Do it, and I’ll fuck you just like you want. ”
“Oh, fuck!” She comes, shaking and panting, then collapses over him.
Dean slowly removes his hand from between her legs and wraps his arms around her while she catches her breath.
After a few moments, she speaks. “Then I was with this guy.”
“Hmm. Did he make you come?” Dean rolls her to her back.
“You know he didn’t. I told you that.”
“Did you?” He peels the bodysuit the rest of the way off her before throwing it across the room.
“On the phone. That’s why we’re having this conversation, I assume.”
“Ahh, yeah, you did.”
He shoves his boxers over his hips and flings them to join their other clothes — away from their bodies and the bed — before climbing between her legs and stretching out over her. He props himself up with his forearms and brushes her hair away from her face with his hands.
“What else, then?”
She raises her knees at his sides and drags her fingertips up his spine.
“After a couple more guys, same results, I gave up. My toys and memories are better than anyone who isn’t you.”
Dean makes a sound like pity cut with need as he grinds and bucks until his dick is snug and wet between her pussy lips. Then he drops his forehead to hers.
“Tell me exactly what makes you come when I’m not there.”
Vanessa closes her eyes and shudders when he slowly forges ahead. She hooks her hands over the backs of his shoulders with a gasp.
“I’ll never forget the utility closet,” she whispers. “The way everyone outside knew exactly what you’d done to me. I can’t stop thinking about if someone had seen us— if we’d been less careful.”
Dean moans as he slides all the way inside her, tucking his face in the crux of her neck. “You an exhibitionist, kitten?”
She shakes her head. “You’re just so sexy and so good at everything. I bet we’re hotter than any movie.”
Dean buries himself deep and settles in. He doesn’t lie to her, never has, and probably never will, but her willingness to be so fucking vulnerable with him makes his heart skip.
“You wanna watch us in the mirror? Just you and me over there?” Dean nods toward the vanity.
Vanessa peers across the room, then looks back at him and nods. “Yeah, later. Right now, I like you right where you are.”
Part Three coming soon...
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BLACK TIE OPTIONAL: PART TWO
Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen (background)
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HBO RomCom bullshit, IDK if this is angst or not, but there are feels
Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.
We’re skipping to the actual rehearsal because, as an ex-event professional, I tend to get bogged down by etiquette and details instead of the shenanigans that Dean and Vanessa have come to be known for and which we all love. So, we will remain in tight focus on those two and in vaseline-lensed focus on the event itself.
Thanks, as always, to @stunudo and @brrose-apothecary for pre-reading and being my friends.
PART TWO
“Dude, this food,” Sam whispers, scanning the room. “But this place is huge and heavily staffed. Remember the last time we were in Chicago?"
Dean ignores Sam’s concern over supernatural crime families in favor of delicious, impeccably presented food.
“It’s just... tacos? But not.” Dean stares at the spread of the taco bar. “Sorcery.”
“Dean... Lassiter? Duval? Any of this ringing a bell?”
Dean shrugs. “That was, what, two years ago? Not our problem — especially if you stop saying their names out loud.”
Then his eyes go wide. “What is this?!” He scoops mango salsa onto his plate like he’s never seen a mango in his life.
Sam pulls a face, realizing that Dean has probably not ever seen a mango in his life and remembered it fondly, and chooses not to tell Dean that there’s fresh, healthy fruit in what he’s putting on his plate. He’d rather Dean be pleasantly surprised by the topping.
“Hey,” Emma pops up next to them, fidgeting and forcing a smile. “Our table’s over there whenever you guys’re ready.”
The boys stare at her for a moment because her voice is pitched higher than it was when she was visibly more relaxed in their suite, and her smile looks painful. She motions to a table where Vanessa appears to be barely surviving the onslaught of three other women.
“Hopefully sooner rather than later?” Emma turns back to face the boys with flushed cheeks and pleading eyes.
Dean peeks around her. “What’s up over there?”
“Nicole’s grilling Van about you being here and asking a bunch of questions about you.” She motions to Dean and Sam respectively before reaching between them for a tortilla chip to scoop into the mango salsa before shoving it into her mouth.
“Who’s Nicole?” Sam asks, also scooping into the mango salsa.
Dean rolls his eyes and answers with his mouth full. “The bride from the last wedding, total ‘zilla.”
“God, that salsa’s good,” Emma mutters, licking her lips as she swipes the salt from her fingers. “Anyway, we need you.”
Sam draws a breath, getting pulled into the verdant depths of Emma’s desperate gaze. He soaks in her anxious vibrations for a moment, then deftly sets the spoon aside to give her his full attention and warmest smile.
“Lead the way,” he says, stepping away from the table with his plate in one hand and the other on the small of her back.
Dean watches his brother glide through the crowd like a white knight. He considers making a joke of asking Sam if he lost his soul again somewhere between the guacamole and sour cream but opts out, realizing that his little brother is as committed to showing up for Emma as Dean is to Vanessa. He follows the couple to their table without any wisecracks.
Sam wedges his gigantic frame between the pack of bridesmaids and a couple of chairs; one he pulls out for Emma, the other he barely squeezes himself into. One of the women scoffs and stumbles like Sam shoved her or something, which he didn’t, but he does remain a buffer between his date and the Mean Girls.
Dean is inspired.
He winks at his brother and Emma as he swaggers past the group of women. Two of them he doesn’t recognize gawk at him as Nicole glares.
He sets his plate on the table and mirrors Sam’s actions by pulling out and patiently holding Vanessa’s chair for her. “Hungry, kitten?”
Vanessa grins and wiggles out of the circle of women.
“Hi, Dean,” Nicole says like they’re old friends or enemies. He forgot how fucking bitchy her voice and facial expressions are. He thinks she must be a miserable person and not just on her own wedding day.
He tosses her a polite nod. “Hey, Tracy.”
Vanessa tries not to cackle at his consistently intentional misnaming of her frenemy and Nicole’s subsequent sneer of derision.
“I am hungry,” she says, smoothing her skirt and pivoting to take the proffered seat, but before she can sit down, Dean leans into her with a conspiratorial smirk.
“Missed you,” he coos, kissing her smirk.
And sparks fly.
--
They’re seated with Nicole and Katie and their respective partners, which should be uncomfortable since Nicole is doing her best to make it so, but Dean can’t be bothered to care.
Vanessa’s skin is like a fucking beacon to his senses. He can’t keep his hands or lips to himself, and Vanessa purrs like a real kitten in response. Dean starts to feel a little high from the simple acts of a traditional couple.
“Sir? Another tequila?”
“Uhh,” Dean blinks, pausing to look down at his half-empty rocks glass. He’s ordered two tequilas on the rocks since they’ve been downstairs, which isn’t a lot for him, but he doesn’t want it to be, either. “You know what, I’ll take a beer.”
“Yes, sir.” The server produces a small drink menu. “We have a selection of—”
Dean waves his hand. “Just somethin’ three-point-whatever.” He leans nearer to the server but doesn’t lower his voice at all, so everyone within earshot can hear him. “Don’t wanna disappoint my girl later, know what I’m sayin’?”
He winks before settling back into his seat with his arm stretched across the back of Vanessa's chair, and the server discreetly nods and tucks the menu away. “Yes, sir.”
“You could never disappoint me,” Vanessa reassures him like they talk this way all the time.
Nicole and Katie give each other a look while Zach and Ryan appear to be rethinking their beverage choices.
Dean knows, though, that he could and will disappoint Vanessa. Not tonight, probably, but it will happen. Instead of saying that out loud, he focuses on showing her a good time like he planned.
“So,” Nicole sighs as she tosses her used napkin to her plate. “Are you guys coming to Brando’s?”
Dean arches a brow and shifts his gaze to his brother with a pointed look.
“Babe?” Sam looks at Emma. “I know you’re tired, but we can probably go for one, don’t you think?”
Emma grins. “You’re right. We should show.”
Sam nods before looking back at Nicole. “I’m sorry, we’ve had dinner together and still haven’t met. I’m Sam, Emma’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend. What about Joshua?”
Nicole motions across the room where a group of Abercrombie rejects are measuring each other’s dicks. The guy doing most of the talking has his arm tightly wrapped around a girl who appears no older than 18 and is absolutely enthralled by the conversation.
“Apparently, the new girl enjoys lengthy descriptions of his watch collection,” Vanessa mutters at Dean’s side.
Dean can feel his lip curl because he looks like the leader of that pack of douchebags he hustled the night Rowena tried to kill him. The first time.
Nicole turns back to face the group. “Last I heard, you were still crying your eyes out over him.”
“Hmm.” Sam furrows his brow. “That must’ve been a while ago.”
The smirk on Sam’s face sends Dean into the stratosphere.
“Well, let’s get the bar outta the way.” Dean pushes away from the table to stand, holding out a hand from Vanessa. “We still got catchin’ up to do, kitten.”
Vanessa takes his hand, barely stifling a giggle.
“Yes, Dean, we all know what you mean by catching up.” Nicole rolls her eyes as she stands, smoothing the front of her dress. “Also, did I miss the memo on matching our dates like it’s prom?”
“C’mon, Nicki,” Zach nudges his wife.
Katie and the groomsmen have warmed up to the brothers and don’t seem to have ever shared Nicole’s animosity toward Vanessa — and, now, Emma by extension — and Nicole herself has evened out a bit, but she’s still got some snark left in her.
“What? We aren’t matching. Katie and Ryan aren���t matching. But Van and Dean look like they’re headed to a red carpet somewhere.”
“A red carpet or prom?” Emma pokes the bear.
“Shut up, Emma.”
Nobody hides their snorts and laughter as they all leave the table to head out for the bar.
Before they can get out the door, the mother of the bride stops them. She’s petite with dark red hair, dark eyes, and a bright smile.
“Oh, Van, you look so pretty.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Ricci.” Vanessa hugs the woman.
Dean watches Vanessa twirl at the woman’s request to see the back. He didn’t realize it before Nicole said something, but the flowers intertwined with black lace skulls on her bodice match his dark red pants.
“What a unique dress. You have such great taste! All you girls look so pretty!”
There’s a chorus of “thanks, Mrs. Ricci” from Katie, Emma, and Nicole.
“How long are we staying out?” Sam asks Dean, pulling his attention from Vanessa, who shines like a diamond in a coal mine.
“Up to them, I guess,” Dean mutters, never taking his eyes off her.
“Well, you kids have fun tonight,” Mrs. Ricci says. “But don’t stay out too late! And don’t let Toni drink too much. You know how she bloats, and we can barely get her into her dress as it is.”
Vanessa looks desperate to run from the extended conversation. He doesn’t want to insert himself unless she asks, but decides to test the waters.
“Hey, sweetheart, you ready?”
Vanessa looks up at him with relief and gratitude, clasping her hand in his. Butterflies flap their wings in her gut, and she tries to remind herself that the look in his eyes is temporary and meant as a show.
“Well... who’s the handsome gentleman, Van?”
Vanessa smiles, turning back to face Mrs. Ricci. “This is—”
“Dean.” Dean extends his free hand to Mrs. Ricci, and she accepts. He turns her wrist and kisses the back of her hand. “I’m this beautiful girl’s plus one.”
Mrs. Ricci raises her eyebrows and nods, eyeing them closely. “I see... I didn’t know you had someone, Van. You make a lovely couple. How long have you been together?”
“Little over a year, ma’am,” Dean easily answers.
“Well, then, I guess you’ll be talking marriage soon as well. You better catch that bouquet tomorrow!” Mrs. Ricci teases Vanessa.
“Oh, we’re all set!” Vanessa chirps, not realizing how what she’s just said sounds.
“Really?!” Mrs. Ricci’s eyes go wide. “When’s the wedding?”
Vanessa blinks as her skin prickles. “Next fall?”
“Congratulations!”
“Yeah, congrats, Van,” Nicole deadpans with a roll of her eyes because even she knows this is all an act. “Are we going or what?”
Vanessa keeps her eyes on anyone but her date for the rest of their night out.
--
Dean gently closes the door to their lock-off, shutting out Emma’s squeals of delight and Sam’s laughter. He watches Vanessa busy herself around the room as he unfastens the cuffs of his button-up and rolls up his sleeves.
He isn’t well-practiced in relationships. He and Cassie always fought, and Lisa was easygoing. His relationship with Vanessa was never supposed to reach this level, so he isn’t sure how to break the tension.
“Hey.”
Vanessa's wary gaze doesn’t quite meet his. “I’m just gonna brush my teeth.”
She motions toward the vanity and takes the last few steps barefoot to get there. Dean appears behind her in the mirror as she reaches for the toothpaste.
“Give it a minute.” Dean touches her wrist.
Vanessa tenses. “I don't know why I reacted that way.”
Dean shakes his head. “Turn around.”
She sighs and slumps in defeat before turning toward him with her eyes on the floor.
“Look at me.”
She swallows and reluctantly drags her gaze upward. “Dean, I’m sor—”
He pulls her in, wrapping her in his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She asked when we were getting married, and I said next fall.”
Her voice is muffled against his chest, but she sounds miserable, and Dean can’t help but chuckle.
He pulls back to look her in the eye. “Who’re you worried about? That old lady?”
Vanessa blinks away the onslaught of embarrassed tears from her eyes. “You, Dean. Aren’t you... freaked or mad or...”
Dean shakes his head, grabbing a tissue for her. “Why would I be mad? Or freaked.”
She takes the tissue, and he crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the wall. He likes being with her, but he isn’t marrying anyone any time soon — they both know that. What bothers him right now is that she regrets such a simple blunder.
Vanessa dabs at the corners of her eyes and sniffles. “I said that... so now you probably think I’m clingy. And now I’m crying.”
She throws her hands up in the air and focuses on Dean, who’s watching her with a quiet smile and, if she isn’t mistaken, amusement.
“Why are you smiling like that?! You didn’t sign up for this!”
“Nessa.” Dean pushes away from the wall to gently grasp her shoulders. “If you had any idea what my brother and I do? You’d get how you could never turn me off short of becoming an actual fucking monster. I can’t quit you.”
Vanessa closes her eyes and sighs. “The problem is that I like you, Dean. A lot.”
She opens her eyes, and Dean’s face has shifted to an unbearably soft melancholy. He nods, holding her gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”
“But we barely know each other,” she continues, taking a step forward and smoothing a palm down the sateen placard of his black button-up. “And you have some secret and dangerous job that I’ll never understand.”
“What makes you think it’s dangerous?” Dean sits back against the edge of the bathroom counter, wrapping his hands around her lace-enveloped ribcage, and lets her wedge herself between his open knees.
Her eyes land on his mouth. He’s so beautiful. She’s told him a dozen times. But he’s also a walking, talking mountain of trauma, and Vanessa guesses that damage extends beyond physical.
“Scar tissue, for one.” She reaches for his right hand and raises it between the two of them, knuckles up. “And busted knuckles?”
“Just a bar fight, honey,” Dean mutters, and Vanessa huffs a wry laugh, rolling her eyes up at him again.
“Maybe, but I doubt it.” She doesn’t drop her gaze as she dips in to press a kiss to his healing knuckles. “I’ve never known what I wanted in the long run, but... I know I want you. Now.”
Dean eyes her quietly for a moment before dipping in to kiss her. “You got me.”
He kisses her for a long time, pushing one hand up into the back of her hair and resting the other over her clavicle and breastbone. His thumb and first two fingers dance along either side of her neck, and she moans into his mouth.
He stands and steps away from the vanity, pulling her with him toward the bed, kissing her the whole way. She works on the buttons of his shirt as he opens the zipper of her dress. Black and red lace and chiffon flutter to the floor, and she walks over it.
Once she has his shirt undone and pulled from his pants, she slides her hands over his hot skin and pushes the garment to the floor. Dean stops at the edge of the bed with his hands on her waist as she pulls his belt and oxblood pants open and off.
“Hey.” Dean clasps her hand in his before she can reach inside his boxers. “Just listen a minute, OK?”
Vanessa slowly brings her anxious gaze to meet his.
“You’re, what, 26 years old?”
She drops her eyes and starts to pull away. “Twenty-seven, and I don’t need your condescension.”
“No, no, no.” Dean grasps her wrists in his hands and pulls her in again. “Not condescending, reassuring. Nessa... you don’t need to have anything figured out right now. You got your whole beautiful, perfect life ahead of you to fuck up and win.”
Her brow furrows, and Dean grins.
“Sometimes I wish somebody’d told me that when I was 27.”
Even if someone had told him, Dean had and has a different life than hers. His path was cut out for him long ago, and all he can do is live it, get up, and kick ass. It still would have been nice to hear.
Vanessa turns into him again, resting her hands on his beautifully scarred and tattooed chest. She lightly traces a long-healed gash until she runs into his tattoo and circles it.
“You my guru, now?” She flicks her eyes up to his.
Dean shrugs, sliding his hands up her sides along her bodysuit's soft, plain black fabric. “Can be anything you want.”
She closes her eyes and leans in to kiss his sternum. She hums and drags her lips to one of his nipples, gently pulling it between her damp lips.
Dean groans, smoothing a hand down the back of her long, wavy tresses before briefly pulling away.
“Just—” he sighs and closes his eyes from her wide, bright gaze to compose himself. “Believe me when I say that one little slip of the tongue ain’t enough to ruin a great weekend with one of the most gorgeous, delightful women I’ve ever been with in my life.”
Vanessa tosses her head back and laughs.
“Seriously,” Dean continues as Vanessa pushes him back to sit on the bed, giggling the whole way.
“You smell good, you’re beautiful.” As he lists off the things he likes about her, Vanessa climbs astride his lap. “You laugh at my terrible jokes. Your voice alone is enough to give me wood, I’m not even kidding.”
“Dean.”
“Yeah?”
She wiggles a little, making him whimper and grip her hips, and drapes her arm over his shoulders to finger the velvety nape of his neck.
“Thank you. I like being with you, too.”
He smiles, and she pitches forward to kiss him.
“Then why don’t you tell me about everything I missed,” he mutters around her lips.
“When?” she breathes into his mouth.
“When I wasn’t with you, and you couldn’t get off without me.” Dean holds her close as he moves back to the mountain of fluffed-up hotel pillows.
“Mmm... Which time?” She steadies herself as he gets situated, watching his skin ripple over muscle.
“Start at the beginning.” He settles in, giving her his full attention, his hands sliding up her thighs to shroud her hips. “What made you realize thinking about me— about us together’d do the trick?”
Vanessa bites her lip, her cheeks flush dark pink, and her eyelids flutter.
Dean chuckles, reaching up to pull the front of her strapless bodysuit down, freeing her breasts. “Did you think about how I held you up and drilled you ‘til you soaked the bed of that swank hotel?”
“Jesus.” Vanessa grinds over him, leaning backward on her hands, and arching her spine. “Yes...”
He cups and squeezes one breast, then hooks three fingers around the front of the thong bottom of the body suit to knuckle at her opening.
“Did you think about me for seven days after?”
Vanessa nods, blindly grinding against his hand. “At first, it was your voice— it was when I was alone. I tried to remember... the way it rumbles your chest when you call me kitten.”
“Uh-huh.” Dean does his best to keep his voice warm and deep. “You’re so slick and hot right now, kitten. I’m here now.”
Vanessa lurches up and forward to brace her palms against his chest. “Keep talking.”
“You look so pretty, grindin’ against my fist. All open and juicy, so sexy. You gonna get yourself off like this?”
“God, Dean.” Vanessa grips his wrist and ruts against his knuckles hard, digging her blunt fingernails into his chest.
Dean hisses and whispers. “Do it, and I’ll fuck you just like you want. ”
“Oh, fuck!” She comes, shaking and panting, then collapses over him.
Dean slowly removes his hand from between her legs and wraps his arms around her while she catches her breath.
After a few moments, she speaks. “Then I was with this guy.”
“Hmm. Did he make you come?” Dean rolls her to her back.
“You know he didn’t. I told you that.”
“Did you?” He peels the bodysuit the rest of the way off her before throwing it across the room.
“On the phone. That’s why we’re having this conversation, I assume.”
“Ahh, yeah, you did.”
He shoves his boxers over his hips and flings them to join their other clothes — away from their bodies and the bed — before climbing between her legs and stretching out over her. He props himself up with his forearms and brushes her hair away from her face with his hands.
“What else, then?”
She raises her knees at his sides and drags her fingertips up his spine.
“After a couple more guys, same results, I gave up. My toys and memories are better than anyone who isn’t you.”
Dean makes a sound like pity cut with need as he grinds and bucks until his dick is snug and wet between her pussy lips. Then he drops his forehead to hers.
“Tell me exactly what makes you come when I’m not there.”
Vanessa closes her eyes and shudders when he slowly forges ahead. She hooks her hands over the backs of his shoulders with a gasp.
“I’ll never forget the utility closet,” she whispers. “The way everyone outside knew exactly what you’d done to me. I can’t stop thinking about if someone had seen us— if we’d been less careful.”
Dean moans as he slides all the way inside her, tucking his face in the crux of her neck. “You an exhibitionist, kitten?”
She shakes her head. “You’re just so sexy and so good at everything. I bet we’re hotter than any movie.”
Dean buries himself deep and settles in. He doesn’t lie to her, never has, and probably never will, but her willingness to be so fucking vulnerable with him makes his heart skip.
“You wanna watch us in the mirror? Just you and me over there?” Dean nods toward the vanity.
Vanessa peers across the room, then looks back at him and nods. “Yeah, later. Right now, I like you right where you are.”
Part Three
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Summary: One weekend, years ago, lives rent-free in both of their minds. Three-part mini-series.
Characters: AU Dean Winchester x female reader, Sam Winchester
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, pining, clothed sex, couch sex, hungover sex, fluff, roomies to lovers, idiots in love
Words: 5,500
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
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Cactus
Summary: Post-battle, exhausted and wanting, Dean and Meg and Cas take care of each other.
Characters: Dean Winchester x Meg Masters x Castiel
Warnings: explicit, rimming, choking, dreamlike sex, Dean’s always hungry
Words: 3200
AN: @stusbunker #stu's1kjamexchange for @dontshootmespence
and for @spnmixedbingo 2021 #Cas
this is unbetaed, all errors are mine
page divider by @there-must-be-a-lock
encouragement from my squad @itmighthavebeenintentional @cracksinthewalls
Bloody your hands on a cactus tree
Wipe it on your dress and send it to me
“Cactus” by Pixies
“Of course, there’s only one bed,” Dean gripes as they enter the last available motel room in a 50-mile radius.
“Relax, kid,” Meg replies. “Me and Clarence’ll be over here playing Parcheesi. We don’t sleep.”
“I don’t know what Parcheesi is,” Castiel mumbles as he shrugs out of his blood-soaked trench coat. “We will need laundry facilities, however.”
“Fun!” Meg quips, tossing the keys to Baby onto the small kitchenette table before turning to stride into the room. “You two get naked and I’ll watch.”
Dean glares at Meg’s shit-eating grin as he tosses his leather belt to the bed.
“Yeah, you’re strippin’, too.” He wags a finger at her. “None of us’re waltzin’ out into broad daylight lookin’ like Lord of the Rings extras, ok?”
Meg arches a brow and folds her arms across her chest. “Wouldn’t you love that.”
“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen before, sister.”
Dean wrenches his jeans open and pushes them to the floor, groaning at the stretch and twist of his battle-weary muscles and joints. His body’s bruised and stained with the blood of the innocent people they couldn’t save tonight as well as his own.
“Besides, no one’s lookin’ at anyone else right now,” he continues his reasoning.
Dean is doing his level best not to pull focus from the immediate task at hand — get showered, get a few hours of sleep, get back on the horse — instead of taking her fucking bait to imagine her and Cas naked and what might happen if they all were naked
He rifles through his bag for clean underwear, finding only a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
“Where the fuck’re my boxers?” He throws his hands in the air in frustration and rounds on his companions.
Castiel is bare assed with the coveted boxers wadded in one hand. Dean closes his eyes and grits his teeth.
“Cas...”
The angel doesn’t acknowledge Dean right away. He silently offers Dean’s last clean flannel to Meg.
Dean sighs again, reluctantly dragging his gaze to the demon.
Meg and her stealth have kicked her boots and jeans off, shrugged out of her jacket, and discarded her top in the short time Dean had his back turned.
He blinks as blood rushes from his brain elsewhere, reminding him of how long it’s been since he’s touched anyone or been touched without violence.
“Well, he’s looking,” Meg retorts, sauntering toward Cas in nothing but a tiny, purple g-string. Her pale pink nipples pucker in the cool air, and her lips twist in a teasing smirk.
The air crackles with whatever it is that’s been brewing for months between the demon and the angel. The former looks like a deer in headlights and Dean almost wants to laugh — except he doesn’t.
Cas’s smooth skin and pert ass shoot straight to Dean’s dick as Meg wanders closer.
She smells like sweet, dark cherries, of all fucking things, and musk. It’s a welcome respite from the acrid blend of blood and gore covering the pile of clothes at their feet.
“Such a gentleman,” Meg purrs, accepting the proffered item from Cas’s loose grip before draping it around her slight frame.
She almost fastens enough buttons to cover her tight curves and porcelain skin, but not enough to quell Dean’s constant hunger, further heightened by his post-battle urge to take and lick and fuck.
Dean snatches the boxers from Cas’s grip. “I’m gonna shower; you two do whatever it is that you two do.”
Without waiting for any kind of commentary from Cas or Meg, he heads to the bathroom to shut out the extra stimuli.
Dean’s never been great at managing his emotions. In his entire, horror-filled life, he’s never had the luxury to sort through the chaos of feeling everything at once — fatigue, loss, need — and that’s just in the last five minutes.
Under the spray of water, he does a perfunctory job of getting clean and getting off. When he emerges from the bathroom, Meg’s kicked her feet up on the small coffee table and is flipping through a travel guide.
“Where’s Cas?” Dean grunts, averting his eyes from the bare, creamy skin of her surprisingly long legs.
“Laundry.” She sounds bored.
“You two get it outta your system?” he asks, throwing back the covers and rolling into the bed to the far side with his back to her.
“Whatever do you mean?” she teases.
Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever.”
As he’s settling in and convincing himself to sleep, she murmurs, “sleep sweet, Dean-o.”
And he sighs.
His dreams are generally filled with blood and brutality, and tonight is no different in that respect.
The only difference is her.
Meg calls him Baby as she drives the Impala with otherwordly skill. Cas rides shotgun, giving her directions from an old, wrinkled map, telling her to keep her eyes on the road; but she watches Dean in the rearview mirror instead.
Dean’s covered in blood and exhausted, but he can’t keep his hands off his dick. He’s so hard, so tired, so desperate and needy.
The sounds he makes are animal in nature and he can see just how they blow Meg’s pupils wide.
Cas calls to him, asking for help with the map.
Why does it seem like it’s upside down?
Meg is laughing and the wind is blowing her hair around her heart-shaped face, those sparkling eyes, and that cheeky smile, her skin...
her skin...
her skin...
Dean jerks awake.
It’s dark and quiet except for the shower running in the closed-off bathroom.
“Y’ok over there?”
Her voice is sly and sticky sweet. Dean groans at the visual in his mind of those words rolling from between her cherry lips.
He needs to shake off the dream, but it’s hard to separate what got him so hard before, and the dream, and the now.
“M’fine,” Dean mutters, tossing and turning to find a position that doesn’t remind him of pain or need.
“You were makin’ some pretty interesting noises.”
Her teasing words and tone, and the fact that even his meager human senses can still fucking smell her from across the room, tells him she very likely knows how hard he is.
He glances at his watch. He’s only been sleeping for 20 minutes. He just needs a couple of hours, but her presence and her scent, and the thought of Cas behind that closed door probably doing exactly what he’d done less than an hour before...
“Fuck,” he rumbles. “Can you- I dunno, just...”
“Just what?”
Dean sighs and flounces to his back and she’s right there. Her sudden closeness startles him and he sits upright, rushing his head.
“Jesus,” he whispers, trying not to look her dead in the eye but there’s nowhere else to look either because she’s wearing his shirt and her hair’s damp from her shower and she smells so fucking good.
“Ya know, Cas doesn’t get the whole personal space thing, but weren’t you human once?”
“Sweetie, I’m very aware of personal space.” Her eyes flit over his form, most notably his exposed boxers and the tent that’s pitching in the crotch. “Seems we’re of the same mind.”
Her voice is husky and it sends another jolt to his dick. Dean squirms under her scrutiny. His cheeks flush and his heart rate picks up.
Meg’s China doll features burst with a grin so wide it pulls a groan from Dean’s chest.
“Very interesting,” she says, putting one knee on the rumpled bed next to Dean’s thigh, close enough to touch. “You look so confuzzled and sleepy, it’s kind of cute.”
She’s all the way on the bed now and climbing astride his lap. Meg rests her forearms on his shoulders as she wiggles a little with a sigh.
“Well, well,” she breathes. “Not that I’m surprised — but big brother’s big.”
Dean is truly overwhelmed by lack of sleep and pumping adrenaline, and everything is too much and too confusing.
He doesn’t think, he acts.
And his arm is around her waist, and he’s got a fistful of her hair, dragging her in for a hungry kiss. She gasps and squeaks, but he doesn’t stop, all teeth and tongue and fuck yes.
In his head, he’s already got her on her back and his dick inside her when Cas opens the bathroom door.
“Oh,” Cas says. “Excuse me...”
Dean is suddenly aware of what he’s actually done, that it’s not a dream. Meg is on his lap, breathless and swollen at the mouth, her eyes and hair wild.
Dean closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to back up but not wanting to move her damp heat from where it’s centered just right.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, releasing his death grip from her hips. “I didn’t mean...”
“You sure?” she murmurs, so small and yet larger than life, loud and calling out for him to just take her.
“I don’t...” Dean whispers again, closing his eyes.
“Meg?” Cas’s voice is unwavering. “Do you want to have sex with Dean?”
Dean and Meg speak at the same time, her voice a ringing bell and Dean’s a murmur of grievance and need.
“Cas, man, c’mon-”
“Yeah, I kinda do.”
Dean’s stunned for a moment. He meets her eyes and she looks as surprised as he feels. He swallows and mutters something agreeable before reaching for the hem of the shirt she’s wearing.
“Cas, you better get over her before your girl eats me alive.”
Dean’s teasing but not really because Meg’s a demon and he’s out of his head and Cas is always off-base.
He’s rough and sure, tugging at the flannel to reveal what's underneath, what he’s wanted to get his hands on for hours — Meg, fighting for what’s good; Meg, driving Baby like a bat out of Hell; Meg, naked and ripe and wet underneath him.
She raises her knees against each of his hips and runs her hands up his sides and across his back.
“You just gonna watch from the sidelines, Clarence? We might need a little direction here at least.”
The only thing between Meg’s sweet, hot, sodden cunt and Dean driving inside her with the force of an ocean wave is the thin cotton of his boxers. Yet, he grinds against her, over and over, spreading her lips open with the cloth-covered bulge.
“Fuck, Dean, you’re gonna make me come just like this,” she moans, baring her throat to him and he takes the hint.
He starts to thrust and she opens her legs wider. “Fuck me... shit.”
He buries his mouth in the crux between her swanlike neck and the outward curve of her shoulder as his dick works free of its confines and pushes inside her tight, wet heat.
“Ung, fuckin’ tear me apart,” she whispers. “Dean, you know what I want.”
He draws back to look her in the eyes, such a sweet face, such dirty words. It occurs to him that he really can do anything he wants to her — she’s indestructible.
Filthy fantasies from the dark recesses of his mind, from pleasure gained through pain, from Hell — yes, he can do that with her.
“Cas,” Dean groans just as Cas joins them on the bed.
Cas is wearing Dean’s spare jeans, slung below his waist to showcase sharp hipbones and a trail of black hair leading downward.
Dean’s mouth waters. He closes his eyes, fucking into Meg as she writhes under him, emitting sweet sounds and tiny grunts of pleasure.
Again, he doesn’t think, he just acts.
He props himself up on one elbow and reaches for Cas, pulls him in for a kiss.
“I thought I was giving orders,” Cas growls, yanking Dean’s head back.
“Then do it,” Dean grits out the challenge and nips at the angel’s lips.
Cas dives in to take over, to control the kiss. This aggression, coming from Cas in his purest form, turns Dean over. He doesn’t want to pull away from Cas but he wants a better angle, so he hooks an arm around Cas’s shoulders as he hoists Meg upright to sit astride his lap.
“That’s right,” Dean rumbles against Cas’s lips as he holds Meg close.
“Damn, you two are hot,” Meg breathes as she bounces in Dean’s lap.
She grips Dean’s shoulder and pushes her fingers into Cas’s messy hair.
“Fuck,” she swears. “Somebody hurt me a little.”
Dean pulls out of the kiss, hazy and hot. He wraps a hand around Meg’s throat and smacks her thigh with his other hand. His grip on her neck is solid enough that uses it to move her to his liking.
Cas looks slightly disoriented but he shuffles around behind Meg to mirror Dean. He gathers her arms behind her back at the elbows with one of his own, restricting her and arching her spine.
Her eyes roll back in her head when Cas begins to work her nipples between his thumb and the big knuckle of his forefinger. With every squeeze of Dean’s big hand at the sides of her neck, cutting off the flow of blood to her vessel’s brain, she squeezes his dick harder and harder.
“Dean,” she croaks. “Gonna come.”
Cas nods from behind her, and Dean tightens his grip once more — this time, not letting up until Meg is convulsing and shuddering and milking him so hard he can’t stand it.
Before Dean can register what’s happening, Cas has dragged Meg to the head of the bed. His jeans are gone and Meg’s sinking onto him slowly.
“Bet you like how that feels, huh, Clarence? Fucking Dean’s come into me. Almost like fucking him yourself — almost.”
She’s petite but curvy and so spry. She looks so good riding Cas’s dick. Dean wishes they’d done this before. He decides to stop wasting the time he has now and propels himself forward to crawl over between Cas’s open legs.
He holds Cas’s intense gaze as he smooths fingertips across Meg’s delicate shoulders, eliciting chill bumps. He tickles down her spine and she arches and purrs. Dean grips her waist and moves her up and down.
“Tell me what to do, Cas,” Dean murmurs as Meg turns her head just in time for Dean to capture her ruby pout with his own.
“That. What you’re doing right now, is lovely,” Cas says.
He looks at Meg like she’s an angel, even though he damn well knows better; but Cas loves her. He loves her beauty and her pain and her heart. He loves all of her and he can see it.
The way Cas loves her makes Dean feel things for her — more than just want. Dean... reveres her.
He can’t keep his hands away from her pretty throat and collarbones, either. He angles the kiss, holding the delicate column in his hand. She rides Cas, fingers entwined, as Dean fucks her mouth with his and touches her everywhere. He’s getting hard again from her sounds and Cas’s expressions and moans.
Meg breaks the kiss to huff a laugh. “Ready so soon?” she whispers, popping her ass back to rub up against him.
Dean nuzzles along her jaw before tweaking her chin between thumb and forefinger and sliding back to bury his face where she and Cas are joined.
Meg bites her lip with a wide grin, looking over her shoulder and down at Dean. She closes her eyes and drops her head back in absolute pleasure and buries lithe fingers in Dean’s hair to guide him.
“Clarence, your boyfriend is even better than I imagined. And I imagined a lot.”
Dean grunts with something like pride as he juts up against Cas’s ass, draping his thick thighs over his shoulders and making Meg squeal with delight as she falls forward.
There’s a feast before him and he’s starving.
Meg undulates over Cas, giving Dean plenty of opportunity to lick and suck in all the right places. He pulls her apart and holds her aloft as he laves up Cas’s length then slips his tongue inside her. He sucks her lips into his mouth before dragging his own back down over Cas and letting her fall back in place.
“Dean,” Cas groans. “Is that supposed to- ung.”
“Just enjoy it, Clarence,” Meg says, arching her back so Dean can burrow between her cheeks. “Oh, yeah, use that whole goddamn beautiful fucking face.”
She rests her temple on Cas’s chest and just lets Dean have his way. He’s got his mouth on her ass and his fingers working on Cas.
“Gonna come again,” she whispers. “You two’re... fuck.”
Dean slowly notches a thumb inside her ass for good measure and she tenses, gasping then shouts.
“Cas,” Dean rasps, as Meg slides from off of Cas and rolls to her back at his side, her chest heaving and her grin dreamy and broad.
“Yes, Dean,” Cas answers, sounding somewhat pained.
Dean slides one hand up over Meg’s soft belly and the other up Cas’s thigh to grip his cock in his hand. Cas hisses, and Meg coos to him in comfort. She rolls into a juicy little ball to face him, gripping Dean’s wrist and sliding his fingers into her mouth.
Without preamble, Dean takes Cas into his own mouth with a hum. His flavor mingling with Meg’s floods Dean’s mouth.
“Come for him,” Meg whispers, dragging Dean’s spit-slicked fingers from her mouth to Cas’s. “He wants you to.”
She nips at Cas’s tensed jaw while Dean fucks his mouth with his fingers and swallows his cock down his throat. Meg pulls Dean’s hand to her small, tight breasts and he instantly knows what she wants. He rolls one taut nipple between his thick fingers and she moans.
“Are you sure?” Cas asks Meg.
Meg chuckles and Dean groans. “Yes, Clarence, I’m sure. Listen to him. Those needy little sounds he makes? He wants you to come in his mouth, to fill him up.”
Cas gasps and Dean feels him twitch against his tongue. He gags and swallows, and drool spills from the corner of his mouth.
“Fuck, you look good with a dick in your mouth,” Meg murmurs as Cas groans loud and long and explodes down Dean’s throat.
The sun is slow to rise as they pack up the Impala. Their clothes are mostly clean and dry; Cas is a celestial being, not a housekeeper after all.
“Coffee,” Dean hands a cup from the cardboard drink carrier to each of his companions. “Burritos’re in the bag. Let’s go.”
“I don’t drink-”
“Get in the car, Clarence,” Meg stops Castiel from making Dean’s gesture awkward.
With Cas in the passenger seat and Meg in the back, Dean spirals back to his dream from the night before and glances at her in the rearview mirror. She raises her paper coffee cup to him as if to toast and takes a sip, her smiling eyes, holding his.
Dean thinks about climbing in the back seat to pick up where they left off the night before but they’ve got work to do.
“Cas, get that map out,” Dean rumbles, as he fires the engine and puts Baby in gear to pull from the parking lot. “Where’s the next target?”
He pulls out onto the road, just as the sun peeks over the horizon, memories of Meg’s warm mouth sliding over his length making him shift in his seat.
“Why does this map seem like it’s upside down?” Cas gripes.
“Because it is,” Meg chimes from the backseat.
And Dean grins into his cup as they make their way to the next battle.
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