guys ao3 is down- how am I supposed to vicariously indulge in escapism now?? 

THEY SAID HOURS OH MY GOD I’M HAVING GAY PANIC BUT INSTEAD I’M JUST GAY AND PANICKED

what do you expect me to do, live in the real world?? I haven’t touched grass in 4 years!!

An education  Chapter 6

A/N: I’m both very sorry and very much grinning like a mad-man over the last chapter. I really loved writing it, and you guys seemed very happy I updated the story, but also very angry I left it on such a cliffhanger. I’m sorry! 

BUT luckily, I don’t have a life, so I’m here to update it! Without further ado, here’s the next chapter!

Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer!

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 Pairings: Dean x reader, Sam

Warnings: Language, (slight)angst, fluff

Chapter 6 Reality

July

 I groaned as I tried to sit up. Fucking goddamn demon. When Dean had found my flappy, bleeding ass, I was halfway to death. More than halfway, if I’m being totally honest, but I managed to have a very nice conversation with Death Himself – he wasn’t all bad. He gave me a cheeseburger, and told me that it wasn’t my time yet, but he thought I could use some R&R. I had whole-heartedly agreed to that part – here, in the small room with cheeseburgers, nothing had hurt. I was fine, no scars or stab wounds, but I wanted back – the thought of Dean and Sam struggling to keep me alive, gnawed at me. Death had smiled at me. He leaned in and whispered in my ear – I couldn’t remember what – and Death had smiled and snapped his fingers, and I had opened my eyes into a very bright light and a Dean’s voice screaming for Sam.

I had gotten it bad, they told me. I had lost a lot of blood (which I wasn’t that surprised to hear), the stab had punctured my lung and had nearly killed me (again, not surprising), and I had sprained my wrist and broken my right foot, when I struggled against the Demon. They had gotten to me just in time, and had driven back to the bunker, where Cass had been waiting. He couldn’t fix me all the way back to what I was, but he had healed my lung and stopped the bleeding, but his stolen grace wasn’t as powerful, as we needed to fix me right back up.   When I could talk, I had told them everything I knew: Demon’s name was Berith, he was one of the 72 demons of Solomon, they had wanted to birth new generations, and had tried through female humans – to protect their offspring, they had carved very ancient angel-wards into the stomach of the females. I didn’t know how many had survived. I didn’t know why I had survived.

Dean had barely heard what I told them, before he was halfway out the bunker to find the demon – Sam had stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and told him, I needed him here. He was right, of course, I really did need Dean right then. So, he had stayed, sitting by my bed, reading me stories (he had groaned and whined, when I asked him to read Harry Potter to me, but he had been enthralled with the story even more than I had been) and keeping me company.

Now, almost a month later, I still struggled t breathe right; my lung was healed, yes, but it felt as if it was scared so fill completely with air, so I was hissing more often than not. My wrist had healed just fine in two weeks, but my right foot was still struggling, my ankle wasn’t really up for the whole idea of putting weight on it. I was a little scared, it might never get right again. I hoppled around the bunker in search of the boys – Dean had stopped sleeping in a chair next to my bed a week ago, so I had woken up alone. So, here I was, hoppling down the long, winding corridors on one foot and a lung, that wheezed every time I drew breath. I grimaced as I turned a corner, because I accidentally put a bit too much weight on my foot, and I whimpered with pain. “Y/N?” Dean’s voice, full of worry and fear, sounded behind me. I closed my eyes and sighed happily. “Dean.” I smiled, as I turned around. Big hands caught me around my waist, before I was even halfway around. “Woah, easy there, tiger, you shouldn’t even be out of bed.” He grumbled. I rolled my eyes. He had been incredibly protective of me since I woke up, not letting me walk around on my own (barely letting me walk, actually) and if I did want out of bed, he had his big hands around me, almost carrying me everywhere. “Dean, I’m fine.” He raised his eyebrows. “Okay, I’m fine considering my state. I can walk around, you know:” I murmured as he scooped me up in his arms with a firm grip. “Yeah, well. I don’t think you should.” He grumbled back. “Where are we off to, Miss?” He smirked down at me. I sighed. “Kitchen. I’m hungry.” I mumbled back, letting my head rest against his chest. I could hear his heart pick up. I was weird to me, this new Dean – I still hadn’t gotten courage enough to ask him about what I overheard in my almost-dead-state. I was afraid of bursting a bubble, crossing a line – he might not have meant it, I had thought several times, but had been in the throes of fighting and just… Let his emotions run wild. I was curious, though, but I was afraid of his reaction. I don’t think he thought, that I had heard him, so he hadn’t brought it up either. he carried me from the corridor (where was I even?) and walked in silence, until we reached the kitchen. He sat me gingerly down on a chair and clasped his hands together. “What do you want?” He asked, and I snorted. “Sorry, are you going to cook?” I asked incredulously. He smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly in the corners. “Yup. Or you know, re-heat something.” He shrugged. “Dude, you can’t cook. You’ve literally burned pasta.” He glared at me. “That was one time, I was drunk, and I forgot to add water. No biggie.” He said annoyed. I laughed. “Just give me some food, Dean.” I said with a sigh, as I rubbed my ribs – sometimes I felt an imaginary stab from the scar, almost as if it remembered what had happened. He bent down to look in the fridge, and laughed triumphantly, holding a box of left-over Chinese up. “Chinese it is!” He quickly moved to the microwave, punched the start-button and the familiar whirring filled the room. “Hey, how are you? Really?” Deans asked with worried eyes. I glared at him. “I’m fine, Dean. Honestly, I am. I just want to gank the demon and that’s it.” I said slowly. He looked at me with disbelief radiating from his body, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the microwave beeped. He took the food with a grunt, sat it down in front of me, and sat himself down on a chair across the table. I wolfed down the left-overs as he stared at me. When I had finished, he smiled gently at me. “Can I go back to my room, now?” I asked in a small voice. He nodded, and I made a move to stand, but Dean was faster than lightning, and his warm hands wrapped around me again – and the ground disappeared under my feet. I grinned at him as he walked briskly back to my room and put me on the bed.

I looked at him. He looked a little awkward as he stood and fiddled with his hands – he didn’t like sure as to whether he should stay or go. He twisted his hands a little and looked everywhere but at me. I smiled a little smile. “Come here, you big dork.” I said and scooted over, making room for him on the bed. He grinned and sat down, leaning back slightly against the headboard and stared out into the room. I sighed and leaned back as well, sneaking a glance at Dean. For some reason, he looked nervous, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. I didn’t understand why. He had been in this room many times, we’d been sitting closer than this, we even cuddled on several occasions. This wasn’t something new to neither him or me, so I didn’t understand why he was acting like this. Silence invaded the room – I wasn’t going to be the one to start talking. I had learned that sometimes, when silence becomes too much, it makes people talk. Manipulation 101. It worked – Dean sighed and stole a glance at me, before turning his head straight again. “Listen, Y/N… Uhm… I’ve never asked, but I was wondering… What do you remember from that day?” He said quietly. I furrowed my brows at him. “What, besides the torture, demon-talk and the conversation with death?” I said sarcastically. He chuckled lightly and looked at me. “Yeah. Other than that.” His eyes glinting with something undecipherable. I sighed and closed my eyes. “You want to know, if I remember the things you told me, before I met death, don’t you?” I felt his body stiffen and heard his breath hitch in his throat. I cracked my eyes open and looked at him. His eyes were wide, staring down at me, and his hands were shaking a little – he looked terrified. “I guess so.” He said quietly. He sounded like a man, who had just gotten he death-sentence. I rolled my shoulders a bit and looked into his eyes. “I remember.” I said. “I remember every word you said. Oh, and for good measure, I also know it was a very big lie, when you told me about my picture in your bed.” He closed his eyes in defeat and groaned. He looked at me and his eyes were swimming. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” He said in a small voice. I nodded slowly. “I guess it is.” I mumbled. We sat in silence for a while, but then I heard Dean groan. “Listen, Y/N. I-uh… I’ve… I know this is fucking bad timing, okay? I know… I know I should’ve said something sooner. I know… I should have done a lot of things okay, and it’s too late. But… Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned in frustration. I was surprised – Dean was struggling, and I was in the dark as to why. I had no idea, what he wanted to say, but I kept silent – he would get to it eventually. “Okay.” He drew a deep breath and looked at me with wet eyes. “Okay. You’re in love with someone. I know that, and I don’t want to…” He exhaled deeply. “I figured out a while ago. Sam’s been bugging me to tell you, and I just… I didn’t have the guts. And then.. I woke up next to you and felt your breath on my neck, and I had to admit it to myself, and… And you came out from the bathroom looking so guilty, and I decided it was a bad Idea to tell you.” I had my eyes trained on his face, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. “And you… You got taken right from under me, and I saw you there, almost dead… I didn’t know what the hell to do, and I… I knew. I knew with absolute certainty, that I…” He looked at me eyes, searching for something – doubt, fear, I don’t know. “I knew that I was in love with you, Y/N. And it scared the shit out of me. It still does. It scares me, how much I love you. I have no idea how I’d ever live without you. And that’s terrifying.” I opened my mouth, tears spilling over my cheeks, but he held a hand out in front of me. “Please, let me say this, please.” I snapped my mouth shut. “I know this is fucking terrible of me to even tell you this, and I know it’s probably going to fuck up our friendship, and you’re in love with someone… I just… When I almost lost you, I knew I had to tell you if you ever woke up.” He sighed and closed his eyes. I suddenly remembered something, a fuzzy, hazy memory rising in my head – Death and his cryptic message. “Do you know, what death told me, when I was having a cozy take-away dinner with him? Dean looked surprised at my apparent shift in conversation and shook his head. “He told me, you’d kill him if I didn’t go back. That I needed to save you.” I said. Dean stared at me like I had grown another head. “I think I know what he meant now.” I whispered and turned my body towards him, my shaking hand slowly inching its way towards his face as my head moved closer to his. “You do?” He whispered, a feeling of intimacy slowly settling between us. The air felt like it was vibrating with anticipation. “I do.” I whispered. For a fraction of a second, I hesitated. What if this would force us onto a path, we had no idea how to walk? This would break every part of our friendship and stich it back together in different ways, we didn’t know how to handle. Then his lips touched mine with gentle hesitation.

I gasped into his lips, and a sudden urgency overtook me – I crashed my lips hard against his and he moaned against my lips, making my knees shake, and his big hand wrapped around the back of my neck, deepening the kiss. I reveled in the feeling of his soft, smooth lips moving in sync with mine – we were dancing, the two of us, a dance we’d never done before, but it was as if our bodies had been waiting for this moment, charging up for it, and now – now we were two pieces of a whole, something that none of us ever expected to be. His tongue danced over mine, teasingly and light but still with the air of fear and hesitation, almost as if he expected it to be a dream, something that could slip out of his hands at any moment. I tangled my hands in his short hair, pulling it lightly – he grunted against my lips and a hand grabbed my waist harshly, but not hard enough – I ignored the sharp sting of pain in my ankle, as I almost crawled on top of him. I could never be close enough, never taste and feel enough of him. He smiled against my lips, his hand leaving goosebumps on my skin, as his fingers traveled under my shirt to grab an even tighter hold of me. He couldn’t get enough either.

We disentangled slowly, small kisses peppering each other, and he rested his forehead against mine, our breathing labored. He opened his eyes and looked into mine; they were glowing, soft orbs of forests – a color, a place, I’ve never been to, but I knew so well. His eyes were home to me. He gasped a breath and a small trickle of tears ran down his cheek. I wiped it softly away with my thumb. “Did you know, what I used the picture for?” He asked in a whisper. I grinned at him. “I did. Did you know, who I was in love with?” I smiled. “I hoped I did. I guess my hope was right.” He answered.

 CHAPTER 7

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