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cassiopeiassky · 4 years

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Black Velvet

Alright everyone, it’s finally here. I’ve been sort of salty about the lack of tall!reader fics for awhile now or maybe it’s just the ubiquitous short, petite, drowning in his sweatshirt descriptions that get under my skin but just couldn’t get a decent amount of inspiration to write one. I have been known to throw in a mention of height randomly in my fics, but my usual workaround to avoid physical descriptions of the reader is to just write Bucky as like six and a half feet tall. Hes a damn super soldier, he should be taller anyway he did not start out as short as Steve. So one day I stumbled across this post by @invisibleanonymousmonsters and for some reason I can’t explain, an idea was finally unlocked in my brain later that same day. (Inspired by a song? Me? No. Never.)

It’s kind of all over the place, so buckle in. It does take a sharp right into smutsville but also ends up flipping a u and landing in flufftown. I don’t know. I just write what the muse tells me to write.

I would like to thank the incomparable @scottish-pepper for her amazing help and support while I wrote the thing - I couldn’t have done it without you, darlin.

Bucky x Tall!Reader

Modern day AU - think of a 40s prewar Bucky if he got a chance to grow up and lived in a small town

Plot: You have a terrible day of epic proportions but a beautiful stranger in a small town helps to make it better.

Warnings: Swearing (as per usual), smut, mentions of alcohol/drinking/bars, a brief mention of potentially disordered eating, mentions of a thunderstorm, and a very specific shitty family member.

Word count: 12K Yep. Knda got away from me

One last author’s note: This fic includes some ASL dialogue; it is expressed in italics without quotation marks. ASL is an incredibly beautiful and expressive language, and it’s in 3D!! It also has its own grammar structure, rules, nuances, and regional differences, just like any other language, and it can be a challenge to fit it into a two-dimensional space. Taking this into consideration, I’ve decided to write the dialogue with spoken English grammar because my ASL is really rusty and I don’t want to mess it up.

It’s hot. Like 100 degrees in the shade with 95% humidity hot. The trees are wilted, flowers are drooping, and there isn’t so much as a glimmer of hope for a cloud in the sky to interrupt the sun’s torture of earth’s inhabitants. The air is thick and still – there’s no movement at all – yet dangerously unsettled. It’s the kind of weather that if you sneeze, you might cause a tornado in the next county over. Of course your cousin would choose today of all days to get married. And of course her mom pressured her into going black tie, increasing everyone’s suffering tenfold.

“I can’t believe I rented a room for this. I can’t believe I spent $200 on a dress. Why am I even here? What did I expect?” There’s no answer, but of course there wouldn’t be. You’re alone in your car, driving back to a motel that you might not even stay the night in. You’d rented a room because you figured you’d have a few drinks at the reception – you wanted to celebrate the bride, she’s one of your best friends – but at this point you might as well just make the hour drive back home.

About a block from the motel you notice a bar tucked behind a gas station. According to the clock on the dash, it’s only 5:25.

Fuck it. You deserve a goddamn drink after today.

You pull into the parking lot and are surprised by the number of cars, farm trucks, and motorcycles already parked. There’s only one redneck limo, thank God – a pickup truck with a 10 inch lift kit and truck nuts hanging off the hitch, and in your experience driven only by incredibly insecure men – so that’s a good sign, right? It must be a decent place with decent drinks if it’s this busy so early in the evening. Maybe some of your day can be salvaged after all.

The hot, sticky air rushes in as soon as the car door is opened. “Gross,” you mutter; the heat hits even harder after the air conditioning in your car. Glancing over to the passenger seat, you see the hideous shoes your aunt Lydia pressed into your hands upon arriving at the wedding. “You know what, Lydia? Fuck you and fuck your ugly shoes.” You put your heels back on just to spite her.

It’s a small-town watering hole, so of course all eyes are drawn to you when you enter. And they stay on you as you find a seat at the bar – perhaps it’s because you’re a stranger, perhaps it’s because you’re overdressed.

But probably not.

The bartender approaches while drying his hands. He’s got dirty blonde hair in a sloppy undercut, a wide, flat nose, and is wearing a concert tee shirt with the arms cut off to show off his full sleeve of tattoos.

“Do you have blended drinks?” He nods. “Strawberry daiquiri, please.”

“Sure thing.”

You pull out some cash, tipping generously because your drink is a pain in the ass to make, then look around while you wait.

The bar is cool but not cold, not brightly lit but also not uncomfortably dim, is bigger than it looks, and is even busier than the amount of vehicles in the parking lot would lead you to believe. On one side there’s a jukebox next to a small stage with an empty but decently sized dance floor. There are a few high tops, then a gaming area featuring pool tables, dart boards, and a few pinball machines. On the other side of the bar you see a window with someone selling pull tabs, a station set up for calling bingo, a door to what’s probably the kitchen, and a popcorn machine filled with freshly popped popcorn. Behind you and scattered generously throughout the building are tables, some with 4 seats and some with 6, and over half of them are occupied.

“Here you go, miss.” The bartender places your drink in front of you with a polite smile. “Would you like a menu? The full kitchen is open tonight.”

The thought is nauseating. “Mmmm…maybe later.”

“Too hot to eat?” At your despondent nod, he grimaces and places a tall glass of ice water next to the daiquiri. “Thought as much. I’ll check back in a bit.” You didn’t notice his name tag until now – his name is Clint, and according to the hand illustrations under his name, he’s fluent in ASL.

Unsure if he’s Deaf and fluent in lipreading or if he’s hearing, you both sign and murmur, “Thank you,” before bringing the drink to your lips. It’s on the edge of being burned – just the way you like it. Sipping on the sweet slush is pure bliss, cooling you down from the inside out as it tempers the heat of the rum.

You sign? He doesn’t speak this time. It’s not an uncommon reaction.

Yes. I’m an interpreter.

His eyebrows rise in interest. What made you go into that?

My high school offered it, and I ended up becoming really good friends with the teacher’s daughter, who is Deaf. I made a lot of friends, got involved with the community and immersed in the culture, and I just loved it, so I figured, why not do this for a living? My dreams of being a Triple Crown winning jockey went out the window by the end of 5th grade so…

He laughs, but not unkindly. Yeah, I suppose you are a bit too tall for that. But 5th grade? Damn. His face lights up, Hey, have you heard of PATH, International? They’ve got a campus about half hour north of here. If you like horses, it might be right up your alley.

PATH International, or Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship, is an organization very close to your heart. Yes! I volunteer there every Tuesday night.

The look of surprise on Clint’s face is priceless. No shit? I’m there on Thursday nights! You must be the other interpreter the kids are always talking about - they LOVE you! And so do the horses. You know, I was Ace’s favorite till you came along. Now he won’t even look at me unless I bribe him with a treat.

You look again at his name tag, and the name clicks. Wait, you’re Hawkeye! The one that does the archery demos on horseback for the kids’ birthday parties.

He takes a theatrical bow. The one and only.

Clint “Hawkeye” Barton is nothing short of a legend at PATH. Profoundly Deaf yet impossibly accurate with speechreading, he manages to blend both worlds perfectly. He’s also a master archer both off and on horseback, which basically makes him a superhero in the kids’ eyes. There are whispers that he travelled with a circus as a teenager, that he raises horses, and that he moonlights as a vigilante, but nothing has been verified and from what you’ve been told, he will neither confirm nor deny. It’s very likely that there’s at least some truth to the horse raising rumor – Ace is technically his horse, he just loans the chestnut gelding to the program. You’d been dying to meet Clint for a few years now but hadn’t been able to make it work.

It’s so good to finally meet you!

Likewise! I’ve been meaning to swing by on a Tuesday to see who it is that stole my favorite horse’s heart, but I’m usually here. His face lights up, Hey, I’ve got some ideas for a field trip for the older kids and adults but I need to team up with an ASL interpreter since I can’t technically work as a Deaf interpreter on my own off PATH’s campus. You know, rules and shit. You interested?

Absolutely! Just let me know. You dig a pen out of your purse and write your number and email address on a napkin. You know, I’m sorry, but I’m really not sorry about Ace. He stole my heart, what can I say.

He’s a shameless flirt, but I never thought he’d actually prefer someone else over me. But now that I’ve met you, I guess I can’t be too sore about it. He seems to have good taste. He takes the napkin with a grin and folds it up before putting it in his pocket, then looks to his left when a waitress waves for his attention and nods. Duty calls. Let me know if you need anything.

Well, that improved your day considerably.

For a few minutes, anyway.

“That’s an awfully girly drink for a woman like you.” A cloud of stale cigarette smoke with an obnoxious sounding man in the middle of it takes the seat next to yours.

You don’t turn to face him; you don’t even acknowledge him. If that’s his opening line, then you really, really don’t have the patience to interact with him today. This is the guy that owns the jacked-up truck. You can feel it in your bones.

Clint makes a face from behind the drink he’s making, notices your annoyance, and shakes his head. “Dude, she’s got more alcohol in her glass than you and your four buddies combined, so don’t knock her drink of choice. She’s also clearly not interested, and way, way out of your league. Go back to your pull tabs and leave the lady alone.”

You can feel the guy’s eyes on you, but Clint keeps glaring daggers at him and he eventually leaves. You can overhear him tell his buddies, “Thought she’d be an easy lay, but you know what? Even I have standards. How do you fuck someone that tall anyway? I’d need scaffolding!” They laugh, but you continue to hold your head up high. It’s nothing you haven’t heard some version of before. He’s not clever.

Ignore them. They’re lonely, small little men.

I know. Thank you. His protective gesture is touching and completely unexpected. This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often because most people assume you can handle yourself. You can – but it’s nice to not always have to be on the defensive, and today you’re at your limit.

No worries. You look like you had a rough day, I figured you didn’t need Chad making it worse. Clint winks and turns back to his drinks.

Well, he’s not wrong, but the day can only get better from here, right? Right. You nod to yourself then sit back and enjoy your drink. Clint stops by periodically to chat, but otherwise you’re left alone.

Eventually it’s time for a trip to the ladies’ room, and you do your best to ignore the stares and chuckles that inevitably follow you. In your semi-formal black dress you certainly stand out in a bar filled with cut off shorts and tee shirts, but that’s not why they’re staring.

In your black satin and lace, modestly platformed stiletto heels – affectionately known as your ‘fuck me shoes’ – you’re well over six feet tall. Are they uncomfortable? God yes, but they’re also beautiful and totally worth it.

The bathrooms are at the back of the bar, past the dart boards and pool tables. You’re almost there when you hear something ping off one of the pool table lamps and see it ricochet across the aisle and onto the top of the glass and wood cabinets housing the pool cues.

“How – how the hell did you manage that, Rogers?” A man with dark hair and a jawline that could cut glass heads in your direction. “You were supposed to throw the chalk to me, not your imaginary friend standing thirteen feet behind me.”

“Sorry, Buck,” a blonde joins him, looking appropriately apologetic. “My aim was a little off.”

“Ya think?”

You slow your pace to watch them. The guy with the dark hair is gorgeous – well, they both are, to be fair – but the one…damn. His maroon tee shirt is fitted enough to show off his beefy physique, and his jeans hug his thighs and ass like they were made for him. He throws off an air of cocky confidence with just a hint of danger, lending a genuine feel to his bad boy image. Should you…maybe? No. No, you absolutely should not. You’re not in the right mindset to try to soothe a man’s threatened masculinity just for a bit of company.

He and the blonde reach for the wayward chalk, but it’s just out of their reach. It’s amusing to watch them try to grab for it, but you take pity on them eventually.

Time for your good deed of the week.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Stepping between the two, you reach up and effortlessly pluck the blue cube from its spot before dropping it into the dark-haired man’s hand with a smile. “Here you go.”

Wide blue eyes look up into yours, but he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even smile. He just stares. Figures.

The blonde looks between you and his companion before clearing his throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The unspoken rejection from the brunette stings. Normally it wouldn’t get to you, but after today? It does. It really does. So you swallow against the burning thickness in your throat and force back the tears with a fake smile. “You’re welcome.” A few more steps and you’re in the ladies’ room, which only serves to make matters worse when you step into an open stall. As you turn around to lock the door, you can see your entire head in the mirror, poking out above the top. A pair of women walk in and they giggle, so you quickly sit down. There’s no point in taking it personally – it actually happens quite a bit in older buildings and you can fully admit that the sight is pretty funny – so you compose yourself and do what you came in to do. You slouch when you stand in order to avoid accidentally looking into one of the neighboring stalls and go to the vanity to wash up.

Even the sink mocks you by making you bend almost in half to reach the water.

A woman with dark hair and bright red lips exits the far-right stall and joins you at the mirror. “Oh wow, your shoes and dress are so pretty!”

“Thank you.”

“Did you come from the wedding at the ballroom?”

“Mmm hmm.” You glance at her shorts and flowery sleeveless top and swallow your sigh – you feel like a fucking behemoth next to her. “I think maybe I should have stopped by my motel room to change.”

“No, you look really nice!” She smiles up at you, “It’s really not unusual to have people dressed up in here on the weekends, you’re just earlier than we usually see it. I’ll give you a tip, though, in case your feet start to hurt. I know the place looks kinda crusty, but the owners take a lot of pride in it. The floors are clean if you choose to go barefoot.”

Her unexpected kindness surprises you; you’re usually shunned by other women when you’re at a bar because all they see is your height, which they erroneously perceive to be an advantage in attracting men. “Thank you. That’s really good to know.” She turns to leave but you stop her when you notice something wrong with her shirt. “Hey, hon, you’re missing a button.” The poor girl is busty, and she’s likely been flashing an unintentionally generous amount of cleavage for who knows how long.

She looks down and immediately sees the gap in her shirt. “Well, shit. I just bought this shirt. No wonder some of the guys couldn’t look me in the eye. Stupid boobs, always trying to pop out. Why can’t they just make clothes that fit real people?”

“I feel ya,” you mutter as you start digging through your purse. “Hold on, I’ve got something…here, try some of this.”

“Scotch tape?” She looks confused as she takes it.

“Double sided tape.”

Her eyes get wide as she gazes up at you. “You’re a genius. And an angel. An angelic genius!” She takes some and fixes her shirt, smiling brightly. Thank you so much!!”

Despite your incredibly shittastic day, you find yourself warming to her. She’s nice. “You’re welcome! I didn’t want a bunch of creeps leering at you. In a world of Chads, we women really need to stick together.”

“Oh, God, you met Chad?” She grimaces and shakes her head, “I’d like to apologize on behalf of the entire town. He and his friends are not a good representation of the rest of us, I promise. They don’t even live here, they were just permanently banned from the bar in the next town over and now they’re our problem, apparently. But I promise, the rest of the people here are alright.” She sticks out her hand, “I’m Peggy, by the way.”

You shake her calloused hand and give her your name. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. If you feel like some company, just come find me. My friends and I will probably be here for a while, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, I might just do that.” You flash a smile, genuine this time, and go back to your seat at the bar. What the hell, maybe you’ll take her up on her offer after you finish your drink.

A minute passes, maybe two, before someone takes the barstool next to you.

It’s him. The gorgeous brunette.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” You want to roll your eyes at your reply. Smooth. Real smooth.

“My uh, my friends pointed out that I was rude earlier, so I wanted to apologize.”

You turn to him quizzically, giving him your full attention. Is this really the same guy that was playing pool? The sexy one that projected ‘bad ass’? “For what?”

His cheeks grow pink and it throws you off guard. “It’s not nice to stare. My ma taught me better than that – she’d slap me into next week if she saw how I acted. I ain’t usually like that, I’ve just never seen, uh…”

Here it comes. The ‘I’ve never seen such a tall woman’ comment that leaves you feeling like a roadside circus freak show.

“Well, you just got an amazing smile.”

Wait, what? “Huh?”

“I’ve never seen such a pretty smile.” He shrugs and studies the bar top. “Your eyes looked sad, though. I dunno. I guess I was tryin’ to figure you out.” He turns back to you with an almost obnoxiously handsome grin, “My name’s Bucky Barnes. Can I make it up to you? Buy you a drink?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge his intent. He seems genuine enough – he’s either a brilliant actor or you seriously misjudged him, which, in your current cynical mindset, is entirely possible.

You look up to see Clint watching as he dries some glasses. Maybe he has some insight. Is this guy decent? He’s gorgeous but does he have a personality?

Clint snorts, glancing at Bucky then back to you. Yeah. He’s a pretty good guy. He’ll treat you right.

Bucky looks like he’s swallowing a smile when you turn back to him. “Yeah, I guess you can make it up to me.”

“Really?” He seems genuinely happy at the prospect.

“Sure.”

“Great!” Apparently that’s all the invitation he needs to turn on the charm. “So what’s a gorgeous girl like you doin’ in a dump like this?

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh.

“No,” he shakes his head sheepishly, “It’s not. Guess I’m really off my game today. I can usually flirt, I promise.”

A beer and another daiquiri appear on the counter. “Thanks, man,” Bucky nods to Clint. “Hey, you wanna grab a table?” He nods his head to the side of the bar by the jukebox. “It’s quieter there. We can chat and I can show you that I ain’t, in fact, the dumbass I’ve made myself out to be.”

“Yeah, okay.” Why not? Even if you don’t know Clint enough to trust him, the kids that you work with do, and you trust their judgement. So if Clint says that Bucky is decent, you’ll believe him.

***

It ends up being a good choice. Bucky turns out to be more than decent – he’s really nice, funny, respectful, keeps his eyes where they belong, and doesn’t ask if you play basketball.

He asks the basic questions and learns that you live about an hour north of here, that you’re an interpreter, you love to read, write, and draw, and yes, you were at a wedding. Tired of talking about yourself, you take advantage of him pausing to drink his beer and flip the topic.

“So what do you do?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and sighs. “I’m a mission systems engineer with NASA.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry, you’re what?”

“A mission systems engineer with NASA. I know, I –“

“Do you have top secret clearance?”

He looks thoroughly confused. “That’s your first question?”

“Do you? Or would you have to kill me if you told me? Have you been to space? Does the government have a plan for if an asteroid comes our way, or would we have to do like the movie Armageddon and wing it with a bunch of oil rig operators?”

Bucky appears to be absolutely delighted at your string of questions. “Well, yes, no, unfortunately no, and I can’t tell you that because has to do with national security.”

“Fascinating.” You sit back, thoroughly intrigued by the man sitting across from you. “What the hell are you doing in a podunk town like this? Shouldn’t you be in Houston? Or D.C.?”

“I live here.” He chuckles at your unimpressed stare. “Yeah, I know it’s a small town – we got a bar, three churches, a motel, a gas station, and a diner that closes by 7 pm every day. Our biggest draw is the ballroom on the lake shore and the hunting grounds in the fall. It ain’t exactly the heart of modern technology. But I grew up here, my family and friends are here, and I stick around to help out on their farm. I fly into Headquarters a few times a year, but otherwise I work remotely.”

“So what do you do?”

“The general gist of it is that I lead a team that designs, develops, and deploys missions.”

“To space?”

“Well, I mean, I work for NASA…”

“What are you working on now?” You can’t help peppering him with questions – this is so fucking cool.

His eyes sparkle. “You got top secret clearance?”

“No.”

“Sorry. Can’t tell you anything,” he shrugs with a smirk.

“I…yeah, I guess I kind of walked right into that. Wow. So you’re really freaking smart.”

“I hope so!”

“Do you like it?”

“Being smart?”

“Your job, dipshit.”

He laughs, freely and openly, and it’s an amazing sound. “I love it.”

You can’t help but stare at him. “Wow. That’s…that’s just really, really fucking incredible.”

Bucky gets quiet. “It is really incredible. Thank you for thinking so.” He looks up, then back down as he starts peeling the label off his empty bottle of beer. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve told about my job that didn’t either tell me I don’t look smart enough to be a mission systems engineer or ask me how much money I make.” He meets your eyes again. “Or both. I get that a lot, too.”

You certainly know how shitty it feels to get those kinds of unsolicited comments based solely on appearance. It’s one thing to have an impression, but to just say those things out loud? “Well, they suck. And they’re truly shallow if they think intelligence has anything to do with how you look. But hey, at least they show their true colors right away so you can save yourself some time.” You lean forward, chin in hand, “Okay, so I know you can’t tell me about your actual projects, but can you tell me about your job? What are your responsibilities? What does a mission systems engineer do?”

Bucky lights up like New York City and spends the next 40 minutes going into detail about what he does, and you hang on every word; it’s impossible not to, really. His enthusiasm for what he does is so evident that even if the topic weren’t interesting, you’d still be entranced. And you thought he was gorgeous before? His animated passion makes him absolutely breathtaking.

You’ve both finished your drinks and, perhaps not so surprisingly, he switches to soda when you do. When unordered appetizers arrive with your new drinks, you both look over to Clint, who just winks and shrugs.

“Well I ain’t gonna complain. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” Bucky shoves an entire ham and cheese ball into his mouth, but then has to hasashafahasa because it must have just come out of the fryer. “Ish hot! Rearry hot!”

Bursting into laugher, you slide your ice water to him before cautiously taking a bite of your buffalo wing. Considering how much fun you’ve had in the last hour, it isn’t all that surprising that your appetite has returned. “Me neither.”

The hours fly by as the conversation eventually turns to other topics, and you find yourself talking about things you wouldn’t expect considering you’ve just met. Bucky seems so open and honest that it’s difficult not to reciprocate, and if one doesn’t go into detail about what the other asks, it’s only because there’s so much to cover.

Bucky dips the last bit of pretzel into the beer cheese sauce and pops it into his mouth. “So if you don’t mind me asking, what made those pretty eyes of yours so sad?”

You take a long sip of your Coke Zero as you debate your next move. Deflect or come clean? You surprise yourself when you blurt out, “My aunt, Lydia.”

“Your aunt?”

You squirm a bit at the uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability, but you keep going. “Yeah. It was her daughter that got married today. Marie and I grew up together – Lydia is my mom’s only sister, so she was the one that took care of me when my mom had to work double shifts, which was a lot. She did the best she could, and she means well, she really does, but she’s just so caught up with appearances. My height is a, uh, a definite sore spot with her.”

“Really? Why? What does it matter?”

“I think it comes down to the appearance thing. Tall women are generally seen as less feminine, even straight up masculine. Lydia is tall, too – not quite as tall as me, but close. She claims that she got her husband through making herself appear daintier. She only wears flats and follows all the newest fad diets to make herself as small as she can because she feels that being a tall woman puts her at a distinct disadvantage.” You shrug, “She was one of the primary examples I grew up with. And to be fair, it’s not like she’s completely wrong. In my experience, guys tend to feel emasculated by me. And it’s not just men that seem to see me through a distorted lens. Even from a young age – I’m talking 4th grade – I’d hear teachers tell my mom that I seemed so much more mature than my peers, that I didn’t need as much support, emotional or academic, as everyone else. I got additional responsibilities and higher expectations. The thing is, I wasn’t more mature. I was just tall, so I looked more mature. Eventually it kind of came true, though. Other than my mom, who was single and working 2 jobs to keep me housed and fed, I didn’t really have anyone that would protect me or support me. I guess no one thought I needed it, so I just got used to doing it myself.”

Bucky shakes his head, and you can’t tell if his expression is one of pity, sadness, anger, or something else.

“But Lydia made everything a hundred times worse than it needed to be. I already knew I was outside the norm, I didn’t need the reminders. But every time I’d hit a growth spurt she would share some nasty comment on it, as if telling me that boys didn’t like tall girls would somehow stop my bones from stretching.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm hmm. Despite my mom’s efforts – and the fact that being tall is actually pretty awesome – Lydia’s words really got under my skin, and even now they undermine my confidence sometimes.” You gesture to yourself and the bar, “Obviously. I should be at my cousin’s wedding right now. I don’t go to many family functions anymore, because of her. It just…it puts my head in a bad place. You know, they say it takes five to seven positive comments to balance out one negative comment? The negative is in everything she says. Everything. I love my family to pieces, but I just can’t handle her.”

“What did she say to you today?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Bucky is getting pissed.

“She met me at the door of the chapel with a pair of her ugly black penny loafers. Said that she told the photographer that I wasn’t allowed in any family pictures unless I was wearing them, because she didn’t want my Amazonian ass towering over everyone else and ruining the aesthetic.”

“Your…your ‘Amazonian ass’?”

“Eh,” you shrug and wave your hand dismissively. “It’s not the first time I’ve been called an Amazon and far from the worst thing people have said. I mean, people say it to be cruel, but Amazons were fearless warriors. I just think of it as being put in the same class as Wonder Woman. The part that hurt was that she was prepared to make sure I wasn’t in the pictures, that she thought she could just erase my existence, simply because I’m too tall for her liking.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “I might be overstepping here, but what a heartless bitch. No one should ever try to erase you, what a fucking idiot.”

“She browbeat Marie into dyeing her hair blonde for the wedding. Marie hates it, but did it for her mom’s approval.” You release a deep sigh, “But that’s Lydia, and that’s why I took my Amazonian ass out of there the second the ceremony was over.”

“Hmmmm.” He gazes at you. “You know she’s a princess, right?

“Huh?”

“Wonder Woman. She’s a princess. You know…Amazon Princess…it actually kinda suits you.”

“Seriously?”

“Damn right I’m serious. You’re tall? So what. You’re fuckin’ royalty. Own it, Princess. Correct ‘em. Make ‘em say it. Amazon Princess.”

“What?”

“Yep. Say it with me. Amazon Princess.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, but there’s something undeniably sweet about the way he’s pressing the issue. It’s not good enough for him that it doesn’t bother you – he wants it to be seen as a term of empowerment and to let people know that’s how you see it.

The moment is interrupted when a booming voice comes through the sound system. “Alright everybody, it’s ten o’clock!” Someone stands on the stage, holding a mike and looking more than a little tipsy. “You know what that means!”

The bar cheers, “Free jukebox!”

A line forms immediately, and the music starts.

“Wanna dance, Princess?”

“Really? You’re going to call me ‘Princess’ now?”

He shrugs with darkening eyes and a suggestive smirk. “If it’s okay with you.”

If he keeps looking at you the way he’s looking at you right now, he can call you whatever he damn well pleases. But he doesn’t need to know that. “Yeah,” you murmur. His gaze is so intense that you have to look around the bar to break it and gather your thoughts. You happen to see Peggy; she’s standing next to the blonde that had been playing pool with Bucky, so she must know him. She catches your eye, sees who you’re with, and gives a thumbs up with a huge grin. Well, alright then. You grin back and remember what she said. “Let’s dance.”

Bucky stands, stopping when he sees you toeing off your heels. “Woah, what’re you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes?”

He shakes his head, “Princess, you don’t need to do that. I ain’t too fragile to dance with a woman taller than me.”

“I know,” and you do, “But I can’t dance in these. And my feet hurt.”

When you stand, you’re almost eye to eye with Bucky; if he were barefoot as well, you would be.

People are still lined up at the jukebox, selecting their favorites. It’s exactly the mix you would expect from a place like this – classic songs like Brown Eyed Girl, Summer of ’69, and Footloose with more modern tunes sprinkled in – the kind of music that gets everyone up and dancing.

Bucky is a great dance partner, and you’re having an absolute blast. You don’t think about your aunt, the wedding that you’re supposed to be at, or how you are, without a doubt, the tallest woman in the bar. He laughs, showing off the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, obviously enjoying himself, too.

The jukebox switches songs again, and on comes the relentless, even rhythm of Black Velvet. For the first few measures, you just stare at each other. It’s the first song to play that isn’t upbeat, and you don’t know what to do until he makes the first move and pulls you close – close enough to breathe each other in. He stares as Alannah Myles’ smokey voice drifts over the steady bass, then spins you so your back is to him.

If Bucky’s a good dance partner for upbeat music, he’s even better when it’s slow like this, when every move counts. He’s enough to handle you, and more than confident enough to do so.

Bucky stays behind you, mirroring you with his hands resting gently at your waist. Your back is against his chest, but his hips keep their distance. Just to experiment, you press yours back and hear a guttural “fuck” before he intentionally shifts.

Bucky is absolutely nothing that you expected. “You’re a gentleman.”

You can feel the dark chuckle rumbles through him. “I wouldn’t say that, Princess.” He spins you around, pulling you close but not too close, and runs his thumb along your neck. “I just ain’t in the habit of taking what ain’t mine.”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine. Fuck. You like him. One night stands aren’t usually your thing…but that’s not what this feels like. He feels familiar. Safe. You like him, and he sure seems to like you. Your mind is already made up – you’ll take the chance and see what happens. You hardly recognize your own voice when you ask, “Do you want me to be?”

“Thought I was makin’ it obvious. Yes.” He doesn’t hesitate and his eyes don’t leave yours. “Are you offering?”

You move your hand to the back of his neck and lightly scratch, watching with satisfaction as his pupils dilate even more than they were. His lips part when you pull him closer, but he waits for you to close the kiss.

The second you do, his hands slide down to your lower hips before he tightens his grip. He’s not timid; he kisses you as though you’re a well-known lover, deeply and intensely, without bothering with introductions.

Bucky suddenly breaks the kiss, spinning you around again to pull your back against his chest. This time, though, he allows his hips to rock into yours with the rhythm of the music, slow and steady and insatiable. The way he moves makes it impossible not to think about fucking him; hell, you’re practically halfway there already. His hands alternate holding you tightly to his body, maximizing contact, and running up and down your sides. Your head falls back when his mouth finds your neck, and your legs go weak when his teeth nibble that spot beneath your ear.

You’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His voice is thick when his lips find your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, taking his hand to lead him back to the table to collect your things. “I’ve got a room at the motel a block away.”

“Good.”

When you take one last look around, you see Clint, still behind the bar, grinning at you like an absolute idiot. Have fun!

“Oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, but you can’t completely hide the smile.

You step outside to find that the unbearable heat of the day has eased somewhat now that the sun has set. It’s still warm as the humid air kisses your skin, but with the breeze it’s sultry rather than oppressive.

You and Bucky look up at the same time – the stars are barely visible through the haze of clouds. There’s a thunderstorm rolling in on the western horizon.

Bucky walks you to your car, making sure you’re in safely before getting in his own truck and following you to the motel. He jumps out of his vehicle and pushes you against the car the second you’re out of it, kissing you like it’s been days and not 2 minutes since his lips were last on yours.

He doesn’t stop until the first few raindrops hit your skin. Bucky looks up while you grab your purse and your aunt’s shoes out of the car, gathering them clumsily before locking the door. It takes a minute for you to get your room key out of your purse, but you finally manage.

“Looks like the storm is already here. Gonna be a good one if it got here that fast.” He takes your hand, “Which room are you in?”

“Up the steps, furthest door on the left.”

Bucky leads you to the stairs as you both laugh while trying unsuccessfully to dodge the increasingly fat drops of rain. He doesn’t let go of your hand until you need to unlock the door, and the second you hear the click of the lock, his lips are on yours again. He pushes the door open and guides you through, closing the door behind him with a well-placed kick. You drop your purse and the loafers, then step out of your heels as he toes his shoes off. Still connected at the lips, he doesn’t see the things on the floor and trips over one of your stilettos.

“Oh shit!” His eyes are huge, staring up into yours when he realizes he isn’t going to hit the floor because you’ve caught him by the arm. “Good catch, Princess.” Both of you start laughing as he stands up straight, but the laughter dies out when his mouth find yours again. Hungry hands roam your body while you reach beneath his shirt so your fingers can explore the taut muscles you just know are hiding beneath it. Bucky grabs the collar behind his neck and pulls the shirt off altogether, and you are not disappointed. “You like what you see, huh?”

“Damn right I do.” You’re breathless, pressing your lips against the salty skin of his collarbone.

“You sure know how to use that mouth of yours, don’t ya?” He groans, then reaches down to grab the hem of your dress to lift it over your head before tossing it to the side. “Goddamn, darlin.” Bucky eyeballs you like a starving man at a feast before his mouth is back on yours, then moves his lips to the top of your breasts while he reaches around to unclasp your bra. It joins your discarded dress as he pulls you close, groaning at the feel of your naked breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you walkin’ into that bar tonight,” he bites your neck and you can’t stop the light whimper, “but I ain’t gonna complain. I’m gonna make you feel so good, Princess, I promise.”

You believe him. And you cannot wait.

The two of you somehow manage to take a couple of steps toward the bed. “I’ve wanted to do this since you smiled at me after givin’ me that chalk. Those eyes, that smile, that dress, those fuckin’ sexy shoes.” His hands find your hips, hooking your panties with his thumbs to push them down so you can step out of them. “When we started dancin’ all I could think about was what it would feel like havin’ your legs wrapped around me, I want you so damn bad.”

You unbutton his jeans and fumble with the zipper, then pull his jeans and boxer briefs down at the same time, freeing a fully hard cock that is nothing short of glorious. “Then either figure out how to multitask or stop talking and fuck me already.”

Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

He kicks off his remaining garments before pushing you against the nearest vertical surface – which happens to be the middle of the window, where there’s a strip of metal supporting the two panes of glass. You aren’t sitting on the ledge, just leaning against it to keep your balance. It occurs to you that maybe you should close the curtains, but you’re too far gone to care enough to do anything about it.

“Don’t you worry, Princess. I can do both.” His arm is looped around your waist to hold you steady while your upper back presses against the cold strip of metal. You’ve got one arm hooked around his neck and the other steadying yourself on the edge of the windowsill. Bucky reaches down, takes hold of your thigh and lifts it to his hip. He lets go of your waist just long enough to guide his cock to your entrance – and he can slide right in because you’re so damn wet – and fuck, the way he stretches you is delicious.

“Christ, you’re so damn fuckable,” he moans in your ear, sending shivers throughout your entire body. “So fucking perfect…don’t need a bed or a chair, I can fuck you anywhere I want. I could just bend you over, wouldn’t even need a wall.” Between his thrusts, which are as maddeningly steady and slow as his dancing, the cool metal of the windowpane at your upper back, the flickers of lightening, and the crashes of thunder, it’s almost sensory overload. He’s holding you so tightly that you can’t move your hips much, so you’re completely at his mercy. And he knows it.

Each move he makes is a sin; the angle you’re at all but guarantees he’s stroking your clit with every move. Delirious with the sensations flooding your brain, you can only babble nonsense.

“What’s that, Princess? Use your words, darlin,” Bucky

“So…so good…I, huh…”

He chuckles darkly, “What was that?”

He’s not playing fair but you really don’t mind – his confidence with you is a rarity and is such a fucking turn on. “More.”

“More? You want me to fuck you harder? Is that right?” He waits for your nod before flashing a wicked grin lit by lightning, then adjusts his grip on your thigh. “Anything you want, Princess, you get.”

His thrusts come harder and faster, multiplying your pleasure tenfold. Then he shifts his hand on your thigh, changing the support from holding it up to pushing it back, opening you further and allowing him to go even deeper.

Oh, oh fuck…

Your entire body clenches with your orgasm, so tightly you can’t even breathe, and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

Bucky follows you just seconds later with a growl of your name against your neck and a few last ragged movements.

He releases your thigh as he gently pulls out, but he doesn’t take his arm from around your waist. You lift yourself onto the windowsill, pulling him between your legs as you hold each other close and catch your breath while the storm rages outside. He keeps his face buried in your neck as you run your fingers up and down his back, calming you both. The thunder rumbles violently while lightning dances in the sky, but it doesn’t worry you. You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of a storm.

Eventually your legs start to fall asleep, so you begin to move. Bucky notices and hikes both of your thighs up to his hips before guiding your arms up around his neck. “Hold on, Princess.” He reaches down and lifts you, carrying you the 5 feet to the bed. After laying you down, he begins kissing you again, then starts exploring your body. “I love being cradled in your thighs like this, but there’s something else I wanna try,” he whispers as he starts crawling down. “Now I can take my time with you.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’s going. “Really? Um, maybe I should shower first?” You’re sweaty from the heat of the day and just had some really incredible sex, so there’s no doubt in your mind that things are less than fresh down there.

“If you want to.” He keeps on his slow descent, kissing everything in his path, “But I’m happy with you just like this. I want you, right now, as you are.”

“But don’t you –“

“No. I don’t.” There’s a challenge in his eyes when he looks up from his destination. “I don’t care.” And then Bucky dives in, devouring your pussy like he’d devoured your mouth. He’s got you writhing in moments, all worries gone. But he’s a goddamn tease now that the initial urgency has been satisfied, bringing you to the edge and then backing off again and again in a beautiful torture.

You can’t do dirty talk to save your life, but you’re about to start begging when he finally looks up, chin glistening before he wipes it away with the back of his hand. “Fucking delicious.” Between the sight of him, his voice, and the sensations you’re feeling, your brain just about short circuits. Then his fingers start to circle your entrance, teasing you, making you want more before he slowly pushes two in and curls them to press against that spot, and fuck it can’t feel any better, but then somehow it does. You pull a pillow over your face but he shifts, reaching up to yank it back off and throw it across the room. “No way, Princess, I wanna hear what I do to you,” he rasps, watching you with hungry eyes and a feral grin. You’re almost there…almost…and then he puts his mouth back on your clit and your universe implodes.

One orgasm blends into another and you allow him to push your limits until you can’t handle it anymore. “Stop,” you gasp, and he does immediately. “I’m – it’s too much. I…wow.” You’re so oversensitive at this point that if he breathes too hard, you might jump out of your skin.

Bucky crawls his way back up to you, dropping kisses on your hot skin as he goes. “You’re incredible, you know that? I love how your body responds to me, I fucking love it.”

He kisses you again, and despite your sensitivity, your hunger for him grows. Sitting up, you pull him with you then push him down to the mattress. “Fuck yes,” he whispers hoarsely when you straddle him and slide down, pausing to glide your pussy along his hardened cock, but then you slide down a little farther before spreading his legs so you can kneel between them.

It’s impossible not to groan aloud when your hands find his thighs; thick, tight, and incredibly well formed, they look like they were sculpted by a generous god. “I might have to ride one of these later.”

“Please –“ Bucky swallows hard and licks his lips as he watches you in the dim, sporadically flickering light, “Please do.”

One hand moves to palm his balls while you part your lips to take him in as far as you can, reveling in his heaviness on your tongue while using your hand to stroke the base of his cock. You give it a bit, waiting until he’s writhing beneath you before you pull off and redirect your attention. His eyes grow wide when your fingers start moving down beneath his balls to his taint, pressing gently to find the very root of his cock which will then lead you to the spot you’re looking for. Pressing firmly when you find it, you begin rubbing tight circles.

“What are you – oh. Oh. Oh, fuck, Princess, oh fuck!”

It’s ridiculously satisfying to see him reduced to the same whimpering, quivering puddle you were not so long ago. You make him come once, twice, three times without ejaculating, just because you can.

Bucky’s got his forearm resting over his eyes as he shakes his head, and you take advantage of his distraction to shift your body into position. “Holy shit.” He’s breathless, shaking, “I did not know I had a spot that could do that. Fuck. I – oh Christ…“

You slide onto his cock, smiling when his hands automatically reach to grip your hips – the biology and technique can be explained later. Leaning over, you kiss him deeply then stretch your arms above him to grip the headboard. Rocking your hips slowly, so slowly, you watch him watch you.

Bucky’s lips form words but nothing comes out except for sighs and soft moans as you become more and more intoxicated by his need for you. His hands wander up and down, touching your breasts, hips, ass, and everything in between until he pulls you down for another kiss. “Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are? You feel so good. So fucking good. Wanna make you feel good. As good as you make me feel.” Bucky kisses you again, sloppily, then wraps an arm tightly around you before flipping you both.

Now that you’re on the bottom and he’s back in control, he picks up the pace considerably.

You certainly aren’t about to complain.

His hands are grasping yours, holding them over your head, and your legs are locked around his hips as his thrusts eventually begin to lose their impeccable rhythm.

Now neither of you are in control.

The pleasure has been steadily building, an inevitable tidal wave on the horizon. Maybe it’s his confidence, maybe he’s naturally gifted, maybe it’s that his body seems to fit with yours just right. Whatever it is, this is by far the best sex you’ve ever had, and despite already having multiple orgasms, your appetite for him seems to be insatiable because you’re greedy for the next one.

“Fuck, Princess, it feels so good having those legs wrapped around me,” he pants, “Goddamn, I can – I can feel you’re right there. I ain’t gonna last much longer, come for me, darlin, give it to me now. Oh Christ yes, that’s right, just – just like that.”

Your body obeys, giving him exactly what he wants. The velvet sound of his voice, his incessant dirty talk, the way he smells and tastes – everything about him adds to your pleasure induced stupor. The orgasm is so powerful that everything but Bucky goes black, and the only thing keeping you tethered to this world is the way he chants your name as he comes.

His body continues to cover yours as you wait for your racing pulse to slow. He presses kisses to your neck, cheeks, lips, and eyelids, and finally your forehead before he gently lifts himself off to lay next to you. “C’mere,” he pulls you to him, and when you rest your head on his chest you can hear how fast his heart is still beating.

Thoroughly sated and soothed by the feel of his fingertips on your skin, it’s tempting to give in and fall asleep. But not yet. Not if you want to sleep through the night.

Reluctantly, you rise. Maybe, if you’re really fast, maybe he’ll still be here when you get back. It’s probably not the sane thing to do, but you really, really want him to stay the night.

“Where you going?” Is that trepidation you hear in his voice?

You smile as you take in the sight of him lying in the bed, disheveled and clearly satisfied. “I need to shower. And wash my face – I need to get my makeup off. My eyes are getting itchy.”

“Can I join you?” He laughs at your raised eyebrow, “No, Princess, not like that. I’m gonna need some time to recover.”

“That’s good to know,” you smirk, “I was starting to wonder if you were a god wearing a mortal’s skin.”

Bucky blushes. It’s adorable. “Nah, no god here. Just a man that’s never wanted a woman so bad before. Still do,” he shrugs, “Just too worn out at the moment to do anything about it. You’re somethin’ special, I hope you know that.”

It’s your turn to feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you hold out your hand to help him up.

The shower is tender and sweet, full of soft kisses and softer touches. This man just keeps surprising you.

He’s toweling off his hair when his eyes meet yours in the vanity mirror. “Is it okay if I stay?”

A slow smile spreads across your face – you couldn’t stop it if you tried. “I’d like that.” You slip into fresh panties and a tank top, turning to face him fully to admit, “I’d like that a lot.” Bucky beams at you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and heads to the bed. You finish up a few minutes later and crawl in, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. There’s nothing to hide behind – no makeup, no cocktail dress, no drink. It’s just you, and this is a state that very few people see you in; no one you’ve ever dated has seen you this vulnerable until months have gone by. Some didn’t see you this way at all. “Don’t look too close. I’m very unglamorous and monochrome without makeup.”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare in yours. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.” His fingers trace your freshly moisturized skin. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Outside, the thunderstorm has exhausted itself. He pulls you close and breathes you in, and you both fall asleep to the sound of gentle rain.

***

When the sun peeks through the gap in the curtains at 6 am, you’re not even mad that you’re awake. The sight of Bucky lying peacefully next to you is something you’re thoroughly enjoying.

“You’re staring.” His voice, deep and gravelly, rumbles lightly into the silence as he opens his eyes. “It’s because I’m decent and gorgeous with a personality, right?”

“What?”

Bucky smirks as he stretches and sits up. “I should probably come clean. The bartender from last night? My parents took him and his sister in after their parents were killed in an accident. Clint and Carrie were lucky to survive – he lost his hearing and six months of memories and she was in the ICU for 3 weeks. He and I have practically been brothers since grade school.”

It takes a minute, but you finally put the pieces together. Oh. Well, shit.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop; I was just really surprised to see you sign so I didn’t look away fast enough. I’m sorry.”

You sit up and slap him lightly on the shoulder. “So, you knew what I asked him?

His smile broadens as he gives you puppy dog eyes. Yes. Please don’t be mad.

You try not to smile back as you think about it but lose the battle and shrug. “I’m not mad. Maybe a little embarrassed, but we’ve known each other for what, 12 hours? It’s not like you can tell me everything about you in that short amount of time.” You give him some serious side eye, “Although you could have mentioned that when I told you what I do for a living.”

He studies your eyes like he’s trying to see into your soul. “I told you a lot, though.”

“You did. We both did.” It surprises you, more than a little, that you aren’t horrified at how open and honest you’ve been with him.

Bucky reaches his hand up to cup your cheek and he pulls you in for a kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.” It seems like he doesn’t want to part, because he rests his forehead against yours.

Somehow your hand finds his neck, and you gently rub your thumb along his jawline. “Good morning, Bucky.”

His stomach grumbles. Loudly. “Wanna grab some breakfast, Princess?”

It makes you a stupid amount of happy that he’s not ready to leave you just yet. “Yeah. I just need a little bit to get ready.”

A half hour later, Bucky opens the passenger side door of his pickup. “Your chariot, Princess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking his offered hand and climbing in. It’s an older truck, one with a bench seat, and it smells of hay, Bucky’s cologne, and sweat. It’s not what you’d expected, but it suits him.

In this tiny little town nothing is open at this hour on a Sunday morning, so Bucky pulls his pickup onto the interstate to head to a fast food restaurant a few miles away. You take the time to look around – the area is really pretty and reminds you of the drive to your grandparents’ house, all farmland and pastures. Of course, you can’t help but stare at the horses whenever you pass them. “Whoa. They must breed Appaloosas.”

Bucky takes a quick glance out your window. “Yeah, that’s the Carter farm. They raise Appaloosas and alpacas.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You like horses? Not everyone can randomly pick out that breed.”

“I love horses,” you murmur, smiling broadly when you spot a few foals among the herd. You’re too busy looking at them to notice how he looks at you.

***

Breakfast is simple, just something picked up at a drive thru window, but that’s perfectly fine with you. Bucky doesn’t pull back onto the interstate though, he instead starts driving the winding country roads. You don’t mind in the least; you simply sip your coffee, content to be exactly where you are. Considering the hour, you aren’t even grumpy. Stealing glance at the reason why, you hide your smile and take another sip.

Bucky’s fingers drum almost nervously against the wheel, then he seems to make a decision as he brakes sharply. “Sorry, Princess,” he smiles sheepishly, “You up for a picnic? I know a spot.”

His smile is infectious. “Yeah.”

He takes the left he stopped so quickly for, and then another left onto a dirt road, and a mile later he turns onto what looks like a seldom used service trail leading up to a fenced in pasture. “Just a sec,” he pulls the truck to a stop, then gets out to open a gate. Bucky quickly climbs back in, drives the truck through about 20 feet before turning in a tight circle to face the road, and closes the gate behind him before stepping up to your door. “I got some blankets, do you want to sit in the truck bed with me?”

“Of course.”

He gets the blankets and spreads them out while you grab the food and coffees, handing them to him before you climb in after him.

“I would’ve helped you in, Princess.”

“Bucky. I’m not five feet tall. I can get into the back of a truck.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m fully aware of that. But unlike the other shmucks you seem to have come across in your life, I ain’t gonna make you do something by yourself just because you can. You deserve consideration and chivalry, too.”

What do you even say to that? He’s the exact opposite of pretty much everything you’ve ever known. It’s nice.

He sits down against a box that is attached to the back of the cab. “C’mere. You look cold.”

It was hot when you’d packed your overnight bag so you’ve only got a tee shirt and shorts on, and luckily a hoodie that just happened to be in the backseat of your car. “I am, a little,” you admit as you curl into his side, allowing him to cover your legs with another blanket that he’s pulled out.

He eats one handed, keeping an arm around you to keep you close and warm.

Everything smells clean and fresh now that the storm went through, and the morning air is chilly but fresh with the light breeze. The radio plays softly, drifting through the open windows as you and Bucky eat and watch the fluffy white clouds drift by. It’s the best picnic you’ve ever had, hands down.

“So where are we? It’s beautiful here.”

“My parents’ farm.”

You turn to stare at him. “This is where you grew up?”

“Yep.”

“Lucky.”

“I am. Hey, I wanna introduce you to someone.” He stands suddenly, not waiting for a reply. You’re in the middle of a pasture, who the hell is there for you to meet? Bucky brings his fingers to his lips and lets out the sort of piercing whistle that you’ve never managed to master.

And then…and then…

“Are you fucking serious.” Eyes wide, you bring yourself to a kneeling position as a steel grey Percheron comes galloping full speed towards the truck. “Bucky!”

He turns toward you, face almost split in two by his grin. The horse slows down, circling the truck and whickering before coming to a full stop right at the tailgate.

“I’d like you to meet Sergeant.”

“Oh my God, Bucky, he’s stunning,” you breathe, unable to help yourself as you slowly move forward to sit at the edge of the open tailgate. Intelligent eyes take you in before a velvet muzzle finds your hand. “Sorry buddy, I don’t have any treats for you. But I do have ear scratches,” you murmur, firmly stroking the planes of his face before scratching behind his ears. You giggle when he sighs, and again when he mouths gently at your hair.

Bucky beams with pride as he pulls an apple out of the box you’d been leaning against, feeding it to Sergeant before sitting on the tailgate next to you. “I’ve had him for 20 years. I got him when he was just a colt. Trained him myself. He’s one of the reasons why I choose to work remotely – I just can’t imagine not getting to see him.”

“I don’t blame you at all, I don’t think I could’ve left this sweetheart either.” Sergeant blows gently in your face, then nuzzles you hard enough to push you backwards. “Oh my goodness, you are just a big baby, aren’t you, Sarge? Oh, you like that? That spot right there?” You laugh lightly as the giant horse stretches his neck toward you, seeming to thoroughly enjoy how you scratch just beneath where his mane grows.

“He likes you.” Sergeant looks over when Bucky speaks, but then turns back to you.

“Well, I like him.” Feeling eyes on you, you turn to Bucky. “What, are you jealous?” you tease.

“Yes.” Bucky cradles your face in both his hands and begins kissing you. Before you know it, you’re lying in the truck bed with him, making out like a couple of teenagers out past curfew. Time slows even as it moves, and you’d swear the minutes stretched into a blissful forever as you lay in his embrace. But the real world likes to force its way in, and the distant sound of a car’s horn brings you both back to your senses.

Sergeant is about 50 feet away, grazing peacefully as Bucky pulls out his phone to check the time. “We, uh, we should get going. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands to myself, and my folks will be drivin’ by on their way to church in about 15 minutes.”

“Don’t feel like scarring them forever with the view of your naked ass?” You sit up and start pulling up the blankets to fold them.

“Honestly?” He shakes his head, “They’d probably cheer and then invite you over for dinner.”

Pausing your movements, you let that one sink in. “…Oh. Well that would be just as awkward as the alternative.”

He shrugs. “They’ve been dropping some not so subtle hints that they think I should settle down. They’d be thrilled just to know I spent the night with you.”

You tilt your head a bit as you watch him. “Don’t you date?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Really? Why not?”

He shrugs again as you hand him the blankets, then he turns his back to you as he puts them in the box. “I dunno. I guess I just hadn’t found anyone I wanted to actually spend time with.”

“Huh.”

“What?” There’s a challenge in his eyes when he turns back around. “That so weird?”

“No, I get it. You definitely shouldn’t settle. I guess…” he’s staring at you now, waiting for you to finish, “I guess I’m just a little surprised that someone hasn’t snatched you up yet. Where I come from, you’re quite a catch.”

“You think so? How’s that?”

Is he baiting you? Teasing you? Genuinely curious? It’s impossible to tell. “I know so. You’re smart, kind, funny, and a stupid amount of gorgeous,” you pause to level a look at him, “but I suppose you already knew I thought the last part.”

Bucky barks out a laugh but at least has the good grace to look sheepish.

“You have an absolutely beautiful horse, which wins points with pretty much every person I know. Your parents took in a couple of kids when they needed a family, and you learned a new language so you could keep communicating with your friend. You have every opportunity to move to another city, but you stay here to be close to those you care about. And,” it’s dumb, really, how you’re suddenly too shy to meet his eyes, “You’re really good in bed. Like, really really good. You’re the whole damn package.” When you finally look up, he’s staring at you again. “There’s a perfectly real possibility that you’re a total asshole and that you’ve been acting this whole time – I’ve only known you for a day – but I haven’t seen any cracks. I get the definite impression that I met the real Bucky, and he is one hell of a catch.”

“Huh.” He hops down and turns, holding out his hand to help you down. Do you need to take it? No, but you love that he offers anyway. He doesn’t let go after he helps you out, instead choosing to hold your hand as he walks you to the passenger side. Bucky only lets go because he has to, and once the gate is secured behind the truck, he takes your hand and holds it for the entire drive back to the motel.

***

Ever the gentleman, Bucky walks you back to your motel door.

“Do you have to go?” The words are out before you can think too long on them.

He’s shaking his head before your entire sentence is out, “No. Not if you don’t want me to.”

You don’t even care if you sound needy or clingy. “Please stay.”

Just like you learned last night, Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

At least the drapes are closed this time.

***

A sharp rap at the door and an equally sharp call of your name interrupts your post-lovemaking bliss. It’s your aunt.

“I don’t wanna,” you whine.

Bucky bristles, sensing your distress. “That her?”

You nod before pulling a pillow over your head. “I’m just going to pretend I’m still asleep. Maybe she’ll go away.”

“Don’t worry Princess, I got you.”

You feel the bed shift and move the pillow. “Bucky!”

He turns back to you, eyebrows raised, as another insistent knock echoes through the room.

“You’re naked!” It comes out as a stage whisper, making you both snicker.

He flashes a shit eating grin. “So?”

Is he really gonna…

With a dramatic huff, he stops to find his boxer briefs and quickly tugs them on. Kind of. They’re sitting awfully low.

First there’s the sound of the door swinging open, then Bucky’s voice, bored and borderline intimidating. “Yeah?”

The following silence is deafening and you almost wish the room was set up so you could see your aunt’s face, but all you can see is the back half of Bucky’s sensational body leaning in the doorframe.

“Uh, hi? I’m looking for my niece? I thought this was her room?”

“You mean the tall, gorgeous drink of water? About my height? Killer smile? Was wearing, uh, let’s see, what was she wearing? It’s been awhile and she ain’t wearin’ much of anything now.”

The blood rushes to your face, but you can’t even imagine how embarrassed Lydia is right now. The thought is nothing short of glorious.

“Uh,” he snaps his fingers a few times, feigning concentration, “Oh! A black dress with the sexiest heels imaginable? Sound about right?”

“Well, yes, but –“

“Yeah, she’s here.” His tone is still bored, but you think you can pick up on an edge of amusement. Your aunt must be squirming by now, and it’s all you can do to not start cackling.

“I thought…well…the gift opening is in an hour. I thought she was going to meet us for breakfast before –“

“She won’t be goin’ to the gift opening. Or breakfast, but don’t you worry, ma’am. I made sure she ate something.”

The not so subtle innuendo almost makes you choke on your own spit.

“You can’t – are you holding my niece hostage or something?”

He laughs darkly but yells out, “Princess, am I holding you hostage?”

Your own laugher, unable to be contained any longer, bursts out. “Nope!” you call out, absolutely feeling as gleeful as you sound.

Lydia is practically apoplectic by now. “But what about the gift opening?”

“She doesn’t. Want. To go,” he growls, stooping down. “And here, she doesn’t want your fucking ugly shoes, either. Stop projecting your insecurities onto her – she’s perfect the way she is.” Bucky closes the door – perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary – and you hear the sound of the lock sliding into place before he saunters back to the bed.

“Thank you for doing that, Buck. I – holy shit, I cannot believe you answered the door like that.” Your eyes are glued to how low his boxers are sitting – he’s showing more than just his happy trail.

“What? Everything’s technically covered.”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, Princess?”

“I – I’m not even sure how you managed it, but you basically turned your boxers into the dick version of a pasty.”

He grins, “Like I said. Everything’s technically covered.” Bucky moves closer, crawling into the bed until he hovers above you. “But not for long,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck. “Now, the way I figure it, we got another two hours till checkout.”

“Mmmmm…” you’d rather not think of the time. It’s necessary if you don’t want someone from housekeeping to accidentally walk in, but you don’t want this to end.

He kisses you deeply before pulling back, looking just a little hesitant. “And then, if you want, we could continue this back at my place? If you’re not in a hurry to get home?”

He’s kept his lips to himself for a few seconds, so your head manages to clear enough to process what he just said. “What? Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I get it if you have to get back. But,” he shrugs awkwardly, his current vulnerability at stark odds with his usual confidence, “I like you. I’d like to spend the day with you if you’re free.” He kisses your neck again and nibbles your ear. “We can do more of this. I like this, too. A lot.” He pulls back to look you in the eye. “But we could also do some talkin’. Maybe you’d let me take you out to a nice dinner before you head home?”

A smile, broad and genuine, stretches across your face. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.” Even if you never see Bucky again after today, you’re hungry for whatever time you can get with him. He’s addictive and you’ve never in your life felt more satisfied and safe than you do right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His borderline cocky confidence returns as his hands resume roaming the landscape of your body. “Good,” he mouths against your throat, and resumes his worship of you. “It’s gonna be a good day, Princess. A good fuckin’ day.”

Tags: @hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @shifutheshihtzu @passiononfire @learisa @widowvinter @kaaatniss @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @denialanderror @k-nighttt @givemethatgold @manders2487 @afangirlrambles @polkadottedpillowcase @bluebrrn @saysay125 @aikibriarrose @saharzek @mmauricee @imhereforbvcky @whenallsaidanddone @supernatural508 @scarlettsoldier @natalie-nightcourt @im-beautifully-sewn @lovemarvelousfics @feistytravel @tbetz0341 @nearly-whitches @jamie-leah @shliic @dessinemoiunehistoire @lucywinchester2000 @solarbarnes @a-proper-chicken @movingonto-betterthings @seekingkairos @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @part-time-patronus @natashasnight @fairislesheets @new-romanticz1989

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x tall!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #my work #black velvet #5.6.20

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whitewitchdani · 4 years

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Laters, Baby: Chapter 6

Read Chapter 5 Here

Word Count: 2084

Pairing: Winchester!Sister x Lucifer

Warnings: angst, language

A/N: Chapter 6! I really like this chapter and I hope y’all like it too! :) let me know what you think or if you’d like to be tagged!

Laters, Baby Masterlist

Sam stood and began pacing the motel room, stopping to look out the window. The sun was up. Y/N had been gone for a couple of hours now and they still hadn’t heard anything from her. If Cas hadn’t flown out to check on her, he for damn sure would not be in this motel room just waiting.

He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. She looked so distraught when she left. He just wanted to talk to her to make sure she knew that Dean’s confession changed nothing. He and Y/N were still twins; peas in a pod, two sides to the same coin and any other expression he could think of. They’d been inseparable since he could remember and he did not want that to change. She was his best friend and he wouldn’t know what to do without her.

Sam was shaken from his internal struggle by the sound of the motel room door slamming. “She’s still not back yet??” Dean asked while setting coffee and breakfast on the table.

“No and I’m starting to get worried. She’s been gone for a while and Cas left an hour ago to check on her and I haven’t heard from him either. Should we go look for them?”

Dean sighed and took a long drink from his coffee. “Let’s eat first, give her some more time if she’s still just processing. If they’re still not back when we’re done, we’ll go look for them.”

Sam nodded at his brother as they both sat down at the table to eat. He went to take a bite of his food when Castiel burst through the door of the motel room. Sam looked the angel up and down; he looked like crap. Shit. This could not be good.

“Cas what the hell happened, man? You look like you got your ass kicked.” Dean got up to examine the cut on the angel’s forehead and looked behind him to the open motel door expecting Y/N to walk in next. “Where’s Y/N Cas?”

Cas took a deep breath, “She’s gone, Dean.”

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?!” Dean bellowed in the angel’s face.

“I tried to save her Dean. We were talking in the park, I believe I was successful in helping her feel better regarding her situation, when demons appeared. Originally it was only Meg,” Dean cursed and Sam ran a hand down his face at the demons name. Would they ever be rid of her? “But then two more arrived to assist her. The two attacked me while Meg went after Y/N. She held her own but by the time I dealt with the two demons and tried to help her, Meg had rendered her unconscious and blinked away with Y/N in her arms. Most likely to Hell as I could not follow wherever it was they went.”

Sam jumped up from the table with wide eyes, “Meg works for Lucifer, Cas. Basically his right hand since he’s been topside. Dean, if Meg has her...”

“She took her straight to Lucifer. Dammit!” Dean punched the wall in frustration.

“Calm down! We need a plan. Lucifer is most likely in Hell; if we’re going to get Y/N out we’re going to need to find a way in. That means we need to call someone with direct access to Hell...”

“You don’t mean?” Dean asked Sam incredulously. Sam nodded sadly.

Dean sighed and wiped his hand down his face. With a punch downward, the eldest Winchester yelled, “FUCK!”

The first thing you noticed when you started to regain consciousness was the ache in the left side of your head/face. Your mouth was also extremely dry; when you went to lick your lips, you winced as your tongue grazed your split lip. Fucking demons. You went to rub the side of your head and found you couldn’t move your hands. You looked up and saw them chained above you.

“Owwwwww. Fucking demons, man.” As soon as you moved your head the pounding worsened. You pulled on your restraints with no luck; they were completely secure. All of the movement was causing your head to pound even more. “Fucking fuck. Fucking demon bitch.”

A chuckle came from the darkness in front of you, “You have quite the mouth on you little Winchester. Don’t worry though, I kinda like it.”

You looked ahead and saw two eyes flash red. Of course it was Lucifer, should you have expected anything less? “Lucifer. Wish I could say it’s good to see you, but I’ve tried to cut down on lying through my teeth.”

The devil chuckled once more, “Like I said, doll, quite the mouth.” The devil emerged from the darkness and came to stand right in front of you. His blue eyes met yours as he moved forward and cupped your face, running his thumb over the split in your lip. He tsked, “I told them to go easy, precious cargo and all. You must’ve really pissed Meg off.”

“I may have called her ugly, and told her to tell you to shove it up your ass. And then I broke her vessels nose.” You shrugged your shoulders as best you could with your arms strung up above you.

Lucifer laughed again. Odd, he sure does laugh a lot for being the freaking devil. “Feisty, I like it. You seem much less afraid of me than before. Have you warmed to me baby Winchester?” He asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, which made you wince; your head really did hurt. “I have a name you know? And I wasn’t scared of you last time necessarily. Just kinda shocked, I guess? Not everyday the devil shows up and says ‘I’m your soulmate!’ It was half shock and half thinking you were most likely full of shit.”

He looked at you and put two fingers to his chin, “And now? Do you still think I’m full of shit?”

You sighed, “No. I know you were telling the truth. We’re really soulmates.”

His eyes went wide but the ever-present smirk remained, “Really? I’m assuming you didn’t just take me at my word, I am the devil after all.”

“Well duh. Told my brothers and Castiel what you told me, and then I got to have Cas shove his arm up my ribcage so he could touch my soul. You know the fun, excruciatingly painful stuff.”

Lucifer’s face fell; he honestly looked upset. Did you say something wrong already? “You’re telling me my brother touched your soul?”

“Yes? He said it was the only way we could be absolutely sure. He touched it and said he could feel a connection to yours, meaning you were actually my soulmate. It’s been an interesting 12 hours let me tell you.” It hit you just how long this night had actually been. You were going on over 36 hours without sleep and were pretty sure Meg had given you a minor concussion when she knocked you out.

Lucifer noticed that the woman in front of him was struggling to keep her eyes open. “We’ll come back to that, what in Dad’s name is wrong with you?”

You rolled your eyes for at least the hundredth time that night. “Well Lucifer, where should I start? I’m strung up by my arms in what I’m assuming is Hell, correct?” Lucifer nodded. “Your demon bitch split my lip and gave me a concussion; I haven’t slept in over 36 hours; I’m starving; oh, and tonight I’ve found out that not only is the devil my soulmate, but that my brothers aren’t even really my brothers! Yep my birth mom just ditched me on a motel doorstep. John and Dean lied to me and Sam for years.” You let out a breathy laugh and let your head loll down. You were so tired, mentally and physically.

Lucifer tilted his head at you. That certainly explained a lot. Something odd was happening though, he was feeling something for you. He felt... bad? He had the desire to comfort you and to try to make things better. What the fuck, Lucifer? She’s a human. He internally scolded himself but his new feelings won out. He sighed, “If I take you down you have to promise to behave.”

You looked up at him incredulously, “What would I do, Lucifer? I’m half unconscious and you’re a friggin’ archangel, I think I’m a bit outgunned here.”

Lucifer snorted, “Touché, baby Winchester.” He snapped his fingers and the chains disappeared, causing you to fall to the cold, stone ground with a yelp.

“Ow,” you rubbed your head and then your wrists before standing up, “And are you going to keep calling me that? I have an actual name.”

“I enjoy it, but since you aren’t technically a Winchester it isn’t as fun anymore. What’s your name again?”

“Y/N. And I’m still a Winchester Lucifer, just not by blood. Speaking of blood, I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but can I ask you a favor?”

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up and he grinned, “So eager to make a deal with the devil already Y/N?”

“No, no deals, just consolation for kidnapping me and for Meg beating the crap out of me. Can you please heal me? I’m assuming you’re going to want me conscious for whatever it is you have planned and with the concussion and lack of sleep that will be an issue very soon.”

Lucifer placed a finger to his chin as he contemplated your request. “I suppose you make a good point.” He removed his finger from his chin and placed two to your forehead.

When he touched you, you felt the familiar soulmate connection spark through you. It was followed by the cooling sensation of his grace, its flowing tendrils moving to each part of your body to heal the wounds left behind by Meg. “There. Happy now?”

“Thank you, Lucifer. While I could still go for four hours and a sandwich, I feel better.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He should just kill you and get this over with. If the soulmate connection was allowed to blossom and eventually be consummated, you would be a weakness. But he couldn’t, and he was cursing his father for it. “Come with me.”

You raised an eyebrow but followed Lucifer as he exited the room and turned left into the corridor. As you followed, demons bowed to Lucifer as he passed but brought their heads up in time to glare at you. The devil bringing a human woman into Hell, a Winchester at that, was probably not an everyday occurrence.

He stopped at an ornate door isolated at the end of a corridor, Lucifer turning to you with a smirk on his face. “This is yours. You will stay in this room when you are not with me, I certainly don’t need a Winchester running loose through Hell. Everything you will need is in here.”

You looked at him dumbfounded as he pushed the door open. The inside looked like a nice one-bedroom apartment that you’d find in a city somewhere, not deep in the bowels of Hell. As you stepped inside you entered a living area with a large couch and television along with a massive bookshelf on the wall completely filled. As you trailed your fingers along the spines you noticed they were some of your favorites: a mix of classics and new fiction. You went deeper into the apartment, passing through the exquisite kitchen and into the bedroom. In there, a king size bed sat in the middle of the room clad in red.

“Red, Lucifer? Really? Isn’t that a bit too on the nose?”

“I’m nothing if not one for the classics.” He smirked and sat down on the edge, “There will be a demon posted outside this door at all times, the only person allowed in and out is me. If you need anything, just tell them. I have some Hell business to attend to; if I knew this place became so bureaucratic and paperwork-centric while I was away, I may have just let Crowley keep it.”

With that, Lucifer stood and exited your new, what was this place even, chambers? Upscale prison cell? You didn’t know. All you knew was that you were stuck in Hell at Lucifer’s beck and call, and that it most likely was not going to end well.

You missed Sam and Dean.

Read Chapter 7 Here

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laora-inn · 4 years

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Supernatural - Of Dean, Cas and Pies

Well, in this post I’ve said that Cas = Dean’s pie and promised to talk about it later.

I’ve seen a lot of meta considering Destiel, cakes and pies. In fiction, food is always kinda connected with sex and craving for it, and also with death. All the cycle, Eros and Tanathos, you know.

So it’s no wonder that there are lots of food in Supernatural and lots of it’s possible interpretations. Maybe, ALL of them are right simultaneously.

The version about Dean’s food personally I like, by @amwritingmeta from here:

Trash Food: the life of the hunter = saving people, hunting things Pie: home and stability (the longing for his mother and his longing for love) Cake: at first being reluctant, but open, to trying new things

I think it’s absolutely correct. That’s why Dean’s hook-up with Anna in 5x10 is characterized by Uriel as “having a piece of angel food cake”. Anna is an angel, it’s certainly new experience for Dean, to hook up with an angel.

The cake could also refer to Dean’s bisexuality, though in my opinion there is a bigger problem here.

‘Cause you know, there will be a great difference in the sharpness of your sexual experience and in aftertaste if it’s not just sex but something more, an emotional connection. And that connection is the scariest part of every possible relationship.

So I don’t see the point in Dean’s sexuality there. The point is whether Dean want to try something new of not, both in his sexual preferences and family life, in his life at all.

From the Supernatural wiki:

There have been occasions when Dean has been tempted by cake:

3.02. The Kids Are Alright: Dean is seen eating birthday cake with a young Ben Braeden at his birthday party.

7.03. The Girl Next Door: While laid up with his broken leg, Dean asks Sam to go on a food run. When Dean asks, “Where’s the pie?” Sam says, “You got cake, that’s close enough, right?” Dean does not eat the piece of cake.

7.06. Slash Fiction: Dean ask Sam to buy him something that “rhymes with songs songs” i.e. Ding Dongs which a small chocolate cake with a creamy center.

10.12. About a Boy: 14-year-old Dean snacks on cake while he is held captive, he didn’t much care for it.

10.15. The Things They Carried: In a police station, there is a birthday cake on the desk. The police officer offers cake to Sam and Dean, but Sam declines on their behalf. Dean looks disappointed, and sneaks a fingerful of icing.

I think all of them, situation with Anna included (textual references can work even better than visual ones, as for me), refer to Dean’s possibilities of new experience.

In 3x02 he had a possibility of a new family with Lisa and Ben, and he tried it. Back then the show was supposed to end with them as Dean’s constant family. So we’ve got a cake and Dean who’s eating it, possibly enjoying.

7x03 is crucial for Destiel shippers. Why? ‘Cause that’s the moment than Dean needed A PIE and got A CAKE from Sam instead. And nope, he didn’t manage to eat it. Why? Because this cake isn’t his pie. In 7x02 Dean lost Cas. And nothing can replace him, more than that, Dean doesn’t want to try anything new, he just can’t even if Sam helps and doesn’t see the difference.

7x06 was Dean’s prompt to try something new - to have a daughter with Lydia. He didn’t make it either.

Also he didn’t like the cake he ate in 10x12 as a teenager, said the cake was too dry. So he didn’t stay a teenager (someone he used to be a long time ago, but being a teenager now is new experience for him, a chance to start a new life, without Mark of Cain on his arm). Dean preferred to stay an adult in this episode - he tried something new and didn’t like it.

In 10x15 Dean tried the cake = something new. I think it’s the moment when they’ve finally said us: okay, guys. In case you still have some doubts, let’s clarify. A new endgame for Dean comes, not with Lisa and Ben for sure.

So whom with? Oh, well. Maybe with an angel whom Dean gave the First Blade, like he’s preferring him to Crowley? An angel whom Cain saw Dean’s parallel to his wife Colette in? Both moments were in episode 10x14, the previous one!

If 10x14 and 10x15 haven’t clarified it to us yet, in 10x16 Dean also says that there are some people and some feelings he wants to try in a different way. Yep, something new. Three times make no coincidence. This “new” is connected to Cas, and here from cakes appearances are rare. ‘Cause Dean’s already in the path of trying something new.

I think that’s the reason why there were no cakes and pies in season 11th. I love this season very much, it’s also supposed to be the last one, and I suggest Destiel endgame was planned here at the end, maybe not in explicit form, but still. We could tell it looking to the story fabric.

And then they’ve just torn it up at the very end and added 4 more seasons, full of Destiel and pies. Why pies, not cakes? Why pies remain and are still relevant to the story?

‘Cause after Destiel “confession”, which wasn’t at the end of 11th season, but was supposed to be there for sure (and that’s the reason why 11x23 looks like kinda awkward to me, especially Destiel talk in the car about friendship and brotherhood, which was a big step back itself), Dean and Cas aren’t subtextually “something new” to each other. They are ALREADY “family”, and not like brothers. They are couple.

It’s no wonder that after this point pie=Cas for Dean. No, not Mary. Mary is a part of equation, but her special dish isn’t a pie, she can’t even cook pies. No, not Sam. Sam can bring a pie for Dean, but that’s Dean who should be confident enough to take it.

But actually even before season 12, since season 7, pie references were connected with Cas mostly.

From season 1 to season 6 they mean rather a family in broader sense. ‘Cause “apple-pie life”, you know. Life with the family, who loves you, not with the toxic people.

More quotes for us from the wiki, seasons 1-3:

The running gag relating to Dean's pie love, is that Dean rarely gets to eat his pie.

1.11. Scarecrow: In Burkittsville Indiana Scotty's Cafe serves apple pie made from the towns apple crop. "We’re famous for our apples. So, you gotta try this pie." he tells a couple who the townsfolk will later try to kill. Dean orders a piece of the pie. Later when Dean is tied up as a sacrifice, he yells the now classic line ""I hope your apple pie is freakin’ worth it!"

2.21. All Hell Breaks Loose: Part One: Dean asks Sam to get him some pie from a diner while he waits in the car. Once inside, Sam is taken by demons and transported to Cold Oak, with the other Special Children.

3.05. Bedtime Stories: When a young couple, Ken and Julie, are lost in the woods, they come across a sweet old lady who invites them inside her house to rest. Ken sees pie cooling on her windowsill and accepts her invitation despite Julie's reservations. Once they've eaten a fair amount of the pie, it is revealed the pie was poisoned, and the old lady kills Ken with a butcher's knife while he lies on the floor unable to fight her off.

3.16. No Rest for the Wicked: When Lilith kills her host's grandfather, he literally falls face first onto a piece of pie.

Here we see that pies are mostly connected to family, death and danger. Because in seasons 1-3 the Winchesters have no chance to a happy family. They are deeply in a toxic relationship with each other (poisoned pie), their father is dead, Sam is doomed, and they can’t be happy. That’s why Dean can’t have his pie here. That’s why he accuses Sam of wanting an "apple-pie life” in 1x01 - Dean doesn’t think he deserves this life himself and mocks on it while craving for it. His greatest fear, as far as we know in season 1, is to be abandoned. To have no family at all, even the toxic one.

So, in the end of season 3 Dean dies because of his deal, which purpose was to save his only family member left. Sam, who is holding Dean’s corpse in the end of 3x16. Yep, dead face in the pie.

Kinda tragic, you know.

Situation in seasons 4-5 looks just a slight better to me. Pies are more likely a symbol of happy family now... except the fact that Dean can hardly get them:

4.01. Lazarus Rising: When Sam and Dean are in a diner following Dean's resurrection, Dean orders pie. Unfortunately, the pie is brought to them by a possessed waitress, and Dean is unable to enjoy it. After their confrontation with the demons in the diner, Dean leaves money to pay for the pie.

4.02. Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester: When faced with a pile of research on angels, Dean demands of Sam, "You're gonna get me some pie!" When Sam returns sans pie (due to encountering Ruby), Dean complains, "Dude, Where's the pie?"

5.15. Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid: Karen Singer finds baking makes life as a zombie easier, and fills Bobby's house with pies. On one of the few occasions Dean gets to eat pie, it's baked by a zombie.

5.16. Dark Side of the Moon: In Heaven, Dean and Sam relive a memory from when Dean was four years old. Mary makes him a sandwich with a glass of milk and then has a brief argument on the phone with John. Dean goes to comfort her, and Mary hugs him and says "You are my little angel. How ‘bout some pie?" This may be a clue to the origin of Dean's love of pie, and his associations between pie and comfort.

5.19. Hammer of the Gods: Mercury tells Dean after checking in that the hotel has "the best pie in the tri-state area." Sam also warns Dean that they should leave the motel while eating at the buffet: “It’s Biblical, exactly. It’s friggin’ Noah’s ark out there and we’re eating pie”.

Situations in 4x01 and 4x02 refer to Sam. He can’t be a pie for Dean, his family anymore, ‘cause he has Ruby now, a demon. Demons interfere between Dean and pie. Well, sorry for them.

Situation in 5x15 refer to Bobby as a part of family whom Dean in this episode wants to save. Also pies here have a straight connection to death, even the Death himself.

Karen also says, that Dean’s never been in love. He knows only familial love... and during this conversation he is eating a pie. Karen makes pies to bring peace=her love to Bobby, and this love is romantic for 100%. And hella tragic.

I don’t think Dean was in love with Cas back then. Cas was his friend and meant a lot to Dean, maybe Dean was attracted to him somehow, hoped for him, even loved him - but, in my opinion, not romantically.

So that time Cas just couldn’t be Dean’s pie.

To tell the truth, I don’t think ANYONE besides Cas could.

From 5x16 we know, that pie for Dean means not just family, but a happy one, a family, where he is unconditionally and absolutely loved. We also know that the pie could be associated with the word “angel”, even if in the context of a season 5 that may sound kinda sarcastic.

Pie from the 5x19, as I suppose, refer to another family. Not the Winchesters, but Lucifer and Gabriel. ‘Cause now, then Sam and Dean are the vessels, they are certainly a part of a BIGGER family (which also includes Cas, btw). But this family is absolutely awful, toxic and bloody.

Let’s see how the textual references to the pies in seasons 4-5 work:

4.22. Lucifer Rising: when it seems like Dean has given up on Sam, Bobby gives him a talking to: “Are you under the impression that family's supposed to make you feel good?! Bake you an apple pie, maybe? They're supposed to make you miserable! That's why they're family!”

5.12. Swap Meat: when Sam is returned to his own body, he confides in Dean that life as a normal kid "sucked ass": “All that apple-pie, family crap? It's stressful. Trust me, we didn't miss a damn thing”.

5.22. Swan Song: when Sam is preparing to say yes to Lucifer, he makes Dean promise that he won't try to get him back from Lucifer's Cage. He wants Dean to find Lisa and try to live a "normal, apple-pie life."

I think that’s what Dean wants from his family - to get an apple pie (unconditional love/appreciation). He can’t get it from them, and that’s the main tragedy in his life for the seasons 1-5. He is too fixated on them and can’t move on.

Lisa and Ben are just a dream of an apple-pie life (love) for Dean. But you know, that’s not how it works. To notice someone’s love and to appreciate it, you should love them back. We've never had enough information about Lisa and Ben to make any conclusions about. And Sam’s words from 5x12 just state that they both, Sam and Dean, currently can’t believe that they deserve a happy family, deserve to be loved (hello Crowley’s allusion).

Season 6 is poor for pies (and love), both textually and visually. That’s the season where Cas goes the dark side, ‘cause Dean doesn’t love him back (doesn’t trust him), so no wonder.

Here some pie moments:

6.04. Weekend at Bobby's: Bobby's neighbor Marcy Ward brings him a ginger peach cobbler. Marcy, after some exposure to Bobby hunting, decides against dating Bobby, who never gets to eat the pie because he keeps getting interrupted.

6.08. All Dogs Go to Heaven: Dean is sick of soulless Sam trying to act normal, and he tells him that he doesn't buy his act: “You say you're "just folks," yeah? That - that you like baseball and apple pie, or whatever. But truth is, I don't know what you are, 'cause you're not Sam”.

6.11. Appointment in Samarra: Death tells Dean "What do you think the soul is? Some pie you can slice? The soul can be bludgeoned, tortured, but never broken, not even by me."

In Bobby’s case a pie=possible romantic relationship, but Bobby can’t get it.

Dean in 6x08 means that even if soulless Sam says he likes/loves his family (Dean and Bobby), he lies.

The last line I think isn’t connected with this all pie=love narrative. The Death just knows about Dean’s love for pies and says what he needs to say in a simple way. But it’s also about family - Sam’s soul, basically Sam himself.

And it’s season 7 where we have the narrative change! It deals not only with pies, but also with Dean’s feelings to Cas. I think he’s still not in love here. But Dean comes closer to understanding this season. Without this romantic subplot season 7 is just a mess. And you know, this subplot is something what is not easy to notice. That’s why season 7 was something that nearly killed all the show. You should be more open to your fans.

Pies in this season:

7.02. Hello, Cruel World: A TV ad for Biggerson's announces they now have a homemade pie bar - like a salad bar but for pies!

7.03. The Girl Next Door: While laid up with his broken leg, Dean asks Sam to go on a food run. When Dean asks, "Where's the pie?" Sam says, "You got cake, that's close enough, right?" Dean does eat from the piece of cake and passes out on the couch, leaving it unfinished.

7.05. Shut Up, Dr. Phil: Dean is in the motel room, about to eat a cream pie, when Sam comes in and presents him with some chickens feet that they require to combat the witches. They have not been refrigerated due to a power blackout, and Dean is put off his pie.

7.22. There Will Be Blood: Dean is devastated to learn that the modified corn syrup the Leviathan are using to make humans docile and obese is in nearly all his favorite foods, including pie. Dean: "Roman acquires..." What's SucroCorp? Sam: They make food additives, namely high-fructose corn syrup. That crap is in – well, it's in just about everything – um, soda, sauces, bread. Dean: Don't say "pie." Sam: Definitely pie. Dean: Bastards.

Moment from 7x02 can refer to Leviathans that were in Cas. There are MANY of them, they were ruining his core. Connection to the death and danger once again, but this time it refers to Cas. FOR THE FIRST TIME. Why?

Moment from 7x03 had also a cake and was discussed before. The meaning of it that Dean wants Cas back and can’t move on. So, here Cas=Dean’s pie for sure.

7x05 deals with the lovers’ quarrel that ruins the whole town. They are two powerful witches who need to be in peace, then the world will be whole once again. I think that refers to Cas’s and Dean’s quarrel at the end of 6th season, because IT IS basically the reason why Leviathans are here ruining the world. Dean and Cas should have been in peace to prevent it.

Yep, Sam and Dean also have their quarrel about poor Amy, but this quarrel is a result of Dean’s misunderstanding with Cas, of Cas’s death. I feel sorry for Amy so much! She’s a victim of Dean’s personal issues, and that’s very mean of him, to kill Amy, who once was significant to Sam, in a kind of a mirror situation. I lost Cas - you’ll have to loose your monster girlfriend too, and why are you so obsessed with the monsters at all, hey, little brother?

The truth is Sam HAD NEVER such a powerful connection with a supernatural being that Dean had. It’s Dean who was obsessed with a monster, not Sam, and Dean IS still obsessed. So much, that he kills Amy in a prompt to be freed from obsession, to forget Cas’s death and the fact that it’s what is bothering him so much.

So yes, now Dean can’t have his pie. Because Cas is dead, and the world is ruining (chickens feet that they require to combat the witches have not been refrigerated due to a power blackout, CAUSED by these witches‘ love quarrel).

Definitely Sam and Dean have their own issues which can be very destroying but in this episode they haven’t. It’s LOVERS’ quarrel that ruins everything, as in the whole season 7. Once you’ll understand it, season 7 becomes much more interesting. The writers should be clearer with us here, but they weren’t brave enough. Personally I think THAT was the main problem for Sarah, but except this she is a good writer and she did an excellent work for all of us Destiel shippers.

She prepared the scenery for the greatest love story I’ve seen.

Pie conversation between Sam and Dean in 7x22 refers to Cas’s unstable mind. The Leviathans messed up Dean’s pie, and now he and Sam should try to beat them to bring the pie back. Just change the word “pie” here with “Cas” and you’ll see that’s absolutely adequate metaphor given to us by the writers themselves.

Season 8 was a bliss for the shippers. I think Carver is a genius, I love the romantic story he made for Destiel SO MUCH. We see it within all of season he made, from 8 to 11, and it has a strong structure. Seasons 12-15 are more honest with DeanCas details and nuances, I’m absolutely in love with them, but simultaneously Destiel relationship in them is kinda... hidden sometimes, more than it was in seasons 8-11.

In seasons 8-11 we had certain plot circumstances that prevent Dean and Cas from being together. We have no such circumstances in seasons 12-15. So, are Dean and Cas together ALREADY? But why the hell that’s not IN THE TEXT? Or they are not together? But then why do they have couple dynamics?

Carver’s story for Destiel was PURE. The following story is more complex and in some way more painful, despite the fact we have Jack whom I adore. I fully understand writers’ reasons here: they can’t say in the text that Destiel is real till the end of the show, because I believe Destiel was the thing that's preventing show from shutting down all this time. The moment writers’ll recognize Destiel as a real thing for GA (like ”they are couple” in the text from the narrator we can trust) will be the moment that ends the show. OR THAT’S HOW DO THEY THINK.

Personally I think that it’ll be interesting to see TFW future adventures with canon Destiel and Saileen, ‘cause for me there should be some adventures then far and some couples’ problems too. As I said, in seasons 12-15 Dean and Cas act like an arranged couple ALREADY, and it’s still interesting to watch them. Actually the fact that they are NOT couple confirmed by writers yet was one of the main reasons of fans’ annoyance and show shutting down imao. ‘Cause you know, fans don’t like to be played all the time. Sarah made this mistake in season 7 already.

Carver didn’t play us.

So in season 8 we have 4 brilliant pie moments, connected with the all people who could be seen as Dean’s “family“ except Sam, one sure constant in his life. From this season we started to see Sam as Dean’s “child” and to understand it’s bad for both of them, it’s co-dependent relationship.

Notably, Dean fails to get his pie all these 4 times and despite the fact the other important for Dean people are involved, the pie ALWAYS refers to Cas.

Here are these moments:

8.09. Citizen Fang: At the Gumbo Shack, Dean asks Elizabeth for some pie, but she is out of what he wants. "You’re out of pecan? Story of my life," says Dean. Martin Creaser is later seen at the Gumbo Shack eating a piece of pie, before he takes Elizabeth hostage.

8.19. Taxi Driver: Dean brings takeout from Biggerson's for himself and Kevin Tran, including a slice of pie. The paranoid Kevin grabs a tray and retreats to the storeroom. Dean moans "That's my pie!"

8.20. Pac-Man Fever: Charlie Bradbury comments: "I will pick us up some grub, and unlike you Sam, I will not forget the pie" referring to Sam's long history of failing to get Dean his pie as requested, a fact she obviously read in the the Supernatural books. Notably, Charlie also fails to get Dean any pie.

8.22. Clip Show: At the Convenience store, Castiel buys things he knows Dean likes: beef jerky, beer, a copy of Busty Asian Beauties, toilet paper. He tries to buy pie, even going as far as threatening the convenience store clerk, but of course to no avail, continuing the running gag in which Dean never gets his pie.

Now let me explain.

8x09 takes place right after 8x08 where Cas, brainwashed by Naomi, decided to stay away from Dean. No Cas = no pie for Dean. More than that, the one who has the pie here is a villain of this episode and that refers to Naomi. Also, this episode involves Benny who basically is a part of Dean’s “family”, though never spoken and not the same as Cas for sure. Dean trusted Benny only because the vampire defended Cas in Purgatory. It was mentioned in many metas, it’s IN THE TEXT of the story. In case you doubt it, just re-watch 8x01, 8x02 and 8x05. There you can see all Dean’s and Benny’s dynamics.

Yep, Benny saved Dean’s life in 8x01 and helped him later, but the turning point in their relationship which was as far as it possible from the friendship was the moment when Benny saved Cas’s life. Despite of all the things he said about how dangerous is to search for Cas and to walk with him through the Purgatory.

In 8x09 Dean helps Benny as a part of his family, his brother-in-arms and friend, but he still has no pie. Truly story of his life.

The moment with the pie could also refer to Elisabeth. Martin has the pie = he has her as a hostage. Dean’s hint about the pie in their conversation sounds flirty as well, and Benny suspects something about Dean and his great-granddaughter.

But Elisabeth was in this episode only, though the pie metaphors remain. So I suppose that pie moment has more than one interpretation, and the essential to the whole plot one refers to Cas.

8x19 takes place right one episode after 8x17 where Cas, brainwashed by Naomi... guess what? Yep, decided to stay away from Dean. No Cas = no pie for Dean. AGAIN.

This time it’s Kevin who stole the pie, also a part of the family. In season 9 Dean’ll call him a younger brother. Dean helps Kevin, brings him the food, they actually have the help of each other. Still, Dean doesn’t have his pie.

After the next conversation with Kevin in this episode Naomi comes. She says “You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way”. No chances for the pie. Yep.

In 8x20 Charlie mentions the pie to reveal she’s read the books on Supernatural. She also mentions Cas to Dean and to Dean only. I think she understood the pie metaphor :) But also, even if she is a family to Dean and actually says him “I love you”, 100% platonically ‘cause she likes girls only, she fails to give Dean a pie. She isn’t his pie, and Cas - oh, he is still missing after 8x17 and Naomi’s words. No Cas = no pie. It’s the third time, guys.

Finally, in 8x22 Cas returns to Dean and decides to give him the pie himself. It’s funny how desperate he is about finding the pie for Dean - because actually HE IS A PIE.

Here Metatron comes, a villain for the next season, and make Cas forget about the pie - he provides some “greater” goals for Cas just to trick him.

I hate Metatron more than any other character in this story. He may be the ONE I hate at all - because it’s him who makes obstacles in Destiel way through seasons 8-11. He tricked Cas at the end of 8th season and took him from Dean, he killed Dean at the end of 9th season when Cas gave up an army for Dean, he was a reason of Dean and Cas disagreement in 10th season when Dean almost killed him, he said to Cas that he is expandable in season 11, which made Cas say “yes” to Lucifer. Not to mention he stole Cas’s grace, initiated Kevin’s assassination, killed packs of angels, worsened relationship between Cas and Heaven and was arrogant enough to claim himself a new God while manipulating homeless people. He was redeemed, found God and saved Cas from Amara, but I still don’t like him. He’s just a dick - just like Chuck, even worse.

The next season has two pie moments as far as I know, both of them refer to Cas:

9.03. I'm No Angel: Dean buys pie that Sam complains about. It does not appear that Dean gets a chance to eat the pie. Sam: Look at these chemicals. Do you even read the label? Dean: No. I read "pie." The rest is just "blah, blah, blah."

9.12. Sharp Teeth: Dean is given pie (baked by Sister Joyce and reputedly famous through the "Badger State") with lunch by a pack of werewolves. Although we don't see him eat it, Sam later says "They gave you lunch; they gave you pie".

9x03 is the episode where Cas is already a human and he is dangerous - the angels haunt him. But that’s not a big deal for Dean. He sees Cas, and the rest is just "blah, blah, blah". Though in this episode Dean has to kick Cas away. No pie again.

9x12 is the episode with Garth, who is also like family to Dean. They mourn about Kevin together and even share a hug. Garth is a werewolf here, he has a werewolf wife, and Dean and Sam are invited to the werewolves’ family dinner. The table is served with pies, which look just terrible. The same scary pies are in the fridge, while Dean is checking it, possibly looking for the human hearts. We don’t know if Dean’s eaten some pie here, but I suppose he’s not. ‘Cause this family, especially Sister Joyce, isn’t good after all... and because it’s Garth who get a pie here, not Dean. Garth found his romantic love and get happy life with her while Dean is carrying Mark of Cain now and after Kevin’s death can’t let himself to be happy. No pie, my friends. No pie.

Pie in the season 10 has rare appearances, we have more cake moments here, ‘cause Mark of Cain made Dean think about some new possibilities in his life for sure.

Still, we have such moments:

10.03. Soul Survivor: In between giving demon Dean purified blood injections, Sam goes to Dean's bedroom where he spots a half eaten piece of pie.

10.22. The Prisoner: When Crowley goes to a diner looking to make a deal with the cook, he is seen eating a slice of pie.

In 10x03 Dean is freed of being demon by Sam and Cas. We saw Sam couldn’t help him alone, and we saw Dean compliments Cas’s good look, as well as how is he upset when Cas said about female in his car. Cas came just to leave - so the pie wasn’t eaten again. But we have some progress here. :)

In 10x22 Dean hasn’t a pie either. He isn’t human again, not a demon, but not himself as well. He just doesn’t need food. He doesn’t need family business, family, love, trying something new. He doesn’t need Cas anymore. This is a heartbreaking episode with Destiel fight, with Dean who is actually less human than Crowley is. Despite Crowley shows his red eyes here, he also eats a cake. He CARES about Dean, Sam, Rowena, and last but not least he cares about Cas. I think that’s what his pie represents.

As much as I hate Metatron, I love Crowley. I’m sure that without him as an acting character Destiel would be just impossible and miss him so much in the latest seasons. He knew how to make it right.

As I said, there are NO PIE AND CAKE MOMENTS in season 11, which was supposed to make Destiel canon. But they didn’t. So, Mary, who was originally responsible for all this pie story, showed up. And the pie metaphor returned!

12.02. Mamma Mia: Dean finally gets some pie, when Mary brings him a blueberry pie after they have had dinner. To Dean's surprise, Mary admits that she actually bought the pie instead of making it as Dean previously believed his mother would do.

12.05. The One You've Been Waiting For: Sam brings a pie home from the store for Dean, but Dean is too distracted to eat it, opting instead to get a pie later after having killed Hitler.

12.10. Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets: Sam and Dean meets Ishim, who was Castiel’s superior. Dean is asking “Who wants some pie?” and by the end of conversation Ishim says “Have some pie“ to Dean while leaving money at the dinner table.

Here I must confess that I absolutely love Mary as well. :) I think she understands Dean, I think she knows that Cas is important for him from the time she’s first met him. Also I think she appreciates all that Cas’s doing. I wrote about it here just a bit, but actually there are a lot of examples. So that’s no wonder that is Mary who manages to give Dean a pie. In the end, in 12x12 Cas’ll say “I love you” because of what’s Mary done.

But again, the pie isn’t something that Mary made herself. She just can deliver the pie to Dean.

The pie moment from 12x05 is about Dean’s self-worth issue. Actually, Dean could have his pie, communicate with Cas despite Cas’s working with Crowley, but Dean thought he didn’t deserve that. He needed to do something nearly impossible, to kill Hitler, for instance, to fell worthy.

Back in the season 6, Cas’s working with Crowley was the reason of Dean and Cas’s fight, that literally almost ruined the world. So no wonder that Dean doesn’t like it.

I wrote about Destiel and Crowley here in details, from the start till the end. Just one little piece:

Season 12 - here Cas and Crowley start to look for Lucifer together and this is a horrible piece of news to Dean. Cas left him in 12x03 to work with Crowley again! Cas and Crowley are playing FBI agents together - it was Dean’s only role-play with Cas from 5x03!

The pie moment from 12x10 is textual only but important one, as for me. It’s well-known Steve Yokey’s episode,whom I absolutely adore. Here, during Cas and Dean’s conversation with Ishim, pie is mentioned:

Dean: Well, who wants some pie?

Ishim: You know, when I knew Castiel, he was a soldier. He was a warrior. He was an angel's angel. Now look how far he's fallen. Dean: How about a little coffee with that sugar? Ishim: No wings, no home. Just a ratty old coat and a pair of poorly trained monkeys. Dean: Oh. Well, you can go to Hell. Cas: Dean, it's fine. Sam: No. No, it's not. Cas: Sam, this isn't about me. It's about Benjamin. Ishim: Now that is refreshingly accurate. But since you brought a couple of extra “people” to our little chitchat, we should go somewhere more private. I have a safe house nearby. I'll go get Mirabel. So nice to see you, old friend. Have some pie.

Dean’s words about pie are for Ishim. Ishim ‘s words about pie are for Dean only - he also gives Dean some money. Their conversation begins and ends with a pie, and clearly they both understand the meaning. That’s why Ishim answers to Dean’s “Well, who wants some pie?” with “You know, when I knew Castiel, he was a soldier“.

‘Cause for Dean Cas = pie. And Ishim gets that.

All their words could be translated like that:

Dean: Do you wanna my Cas?

Ishim: He isn’t in female vessel anymore, and this matters for me. Also, I envy you two happy gays who like sweets and chick-flick moments. Dean: Too much sugar in your coffee for the man who doesn’t like sweets. You certainly wanna him for your purposes, and I won’t let you have him. Ishim: He was much more better with me back then. Dean: You used him. Cas: Dean, it's fine. Sam: No. No, it's not. Cas: Sam, this isn't about me. It's about Benjamin. Ishim: Oh, we’ll talk about him. In my place ‘cause I need some insurance. Your boyfriend is too aggressive. I’m interested in Mirabel, not in you, old friend, ‘cause she listens to my commands and looks pretty. And you can have your Cas, poor-trained monkey. Some charity from me here.

I love this episode so, so much. I’ve re-watched it for 10 times at least and I’m certain about “pie=Cas” meaning for 100%. To tell the truth, this conversation between Dean and Ishim was the reason I’ve decided to write this meta.

In season 13 we have one visual moment with pie:

13.08. The Scorpion and the Frog: When the Winchesters arrive at Smile Diner to meet with the Crossroads Demon Barthamus, Barthamus offers Dean a slice of cherry pie. After Barthamus leaves, Dean begins eating the pie, earning him a look from Sam.

Barthamus offers Dean a spell to find Jack. When Jack is back, Cas is back. Sam tells is to Dean some episodes later. Of course, Dean wants Cas back, so he took this possibility to get his pie, even if he didn’t like Barthamus.

There was also one textual pie moment in season 13, which refers to Cas. I wrote about it here.

There are some pie moments in season 14:

14.06. Optimism: While working a case with Jack Kline, Dean order pie for both of them and gets to actually enjoy it for once without any sort of interruption aside from Jack's awkward questions about sex.

14.10. Nihilism: Cas sees through Dean’s good memories, and here Dean’s words from 2.21 are mentioned: “Hey, see if they got any pie!“

14.11. Damaged Goods: As she goes shopping for the ingredients for Winchester Surprise, Mary promises to get pie. She returns with an apple pie, but they do not get around to eating it.

14.16. Don't Go in the Woods: Pie is apparently on Dean's shopping list for Jack Kline as he is seen examining one. Jack later tells Dean that he bought everything on the list except the beer, as Jack has no valid ID and he didn't want to use a fake one, suggesting that Jack did indeed buy the pie. It is unknown if Dean ever gets to eat it, but it's possible, since Dean had nothing to interrupt him from enjoying the pie after he got back to the Bunker except for going to the store to buy beer.

In 14x06 Dean and Jack both have Cas with them. And Jack asks Dean about sex. Hmmm. Yokey’s episode, guys!

14x10 is also Yokey’s. So, Cas=pie metaphor could be used here as well - pie moment from 2x21 changes.

14x11 - if Dean is going to seal himself in the Mal’ak box, there will be no pie=Cas for him for sure. ‘Cause THE CLOSET, guys.

14x16 - as long as Jack is the Dean, the pie=Cas is with him. We’ll see the opposite thing in the next few episodes.

As well as in seasons 13-14, pie moments in season 15 is far too easy to read:

15.10. The Heroes' Journey: Dean attempts to buy a copy of Delicious Pies magazine, but is denied when his credit card is declined.

15.11. The Gamblers: Dean learns that he and Sam only have enough money for two cups of coffee and a slice of pie. Dean asks for two forks for himself and Sam to share the pie, but complains about not getting to eat a cheeseburger instead. However, Dean never gets to eat his pie as the waitress notices that the Impala has a flat tire before she can bring it to him.

15x10 - no luck=no pie=no Cas. Sam mentions that they are unlucky and that Cas isn’t with them in one line here, and he is right undeniably. Also, it’s interesting that this time it’s not the pie itself that Dean is buying. It’s a magazine how to cook them! After his nearly love confession to Cas in 15x09 Dean is ready to make his happiness himself. Sadly, he is no luck this episode.

And he isn’t buying Asian Beauties magazine! Unbelievable.

15x11 - here Dean isn’t flirting with the waitress AT ALL. No cheeseburgers, he is to pie=Cas strictly now. He can complain, but he even can’t eat cheese for now - here Sam tells that to him. Cheese may also refer to his hunter’s life - without his luck Dean can’t be a hunter. Maybe it’s the taste of the peaceful future? ;) We’ll see.

The word “pie” can also refer to women. But I believe that above there are enough evidences that the pie meaning here is different.

That’s what we are calling a subtext.

Thanks for the reading!

_______________________

This was the last Destiel topic I’ve wanted to write about this far. Let’s see what the last 7 episodes’ll bring. :)

I’d be happy to analyze any Destiel moment with you guys so feel free to write in my ask and to comment.

#Destiel #dean winchester #dean/castiel #dean/cas #CasDean #DEANCAS #destiel meta #destiel-meta #castiel #benny lafitte #supernatural #SPN #Kevin Tran #Charlie Bradbury

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ask-marcus-cally-and-ari · 4 years

Text

Only Human

Chapter 6: Shelter Without a Goal

Marcus’s tumbledown van was good for shelter and travel, but that was about it. It took three days for even him to get restless. Restless meaning, “I can’t take this! We gotta stay somewhere!”

“But we’re still on the run,” Cally reasoned. “What if they have informants at hotels?”

“Then we can stay at some rinky-dink motel! Somewhere ain’t nobody tryna be.” Marcus didn’t talk like that often. When he did, he was either really relaxed or super stressed. Given that not ten minutes ago he’d been freaking out over his tattoo and recently granted superpowers, it was clear which one it was.

“And an easy place to take us out and get rid of the bodies,” Cally pointed out.

“And an easier place to set traps,” Marcus answered. “Like the one that saved us.”

Cally hesitated. “...Ari?”

“...Maybe we should stay somewhere. Just to lay low. If we’re caught on the road, we probably won't be able to outrun them,” Ari suggested, wringing their hands together. “At least in a motel, we can set traps like Marcus said. And we can hide.”

“...Alright. We’ll stay at a motel. But only for a few days. We can’t afford to stay in one place for too long,” Cally acquiesced. She picked up her backpack and rummaged inside. “Next question is if we have enough money for that.”

“I should still have $30 left,” Ari said, pulling her wallet out. They gathered up all the money inside, nodded his head at the sum, and handed it to Cally. “Yep, $30 exact.”

“Check my bag. I should have $50 in there,” Marcus said, making a vague gesture to the floorboard. “There’s a small town up ahead. I can stop there and check if there’s a motel.”

As the trio neared the ramshackle town, Marcus noted a sign above a rickety old building that read ‘Rusty Pelican Motel.’ And true to its name, the entire building seemed heavily rusted.

“That looks to be about as good as we’re gonna get,” Marcus said, pulling into the parking lot.

“At least it looks like it won't cost much,” Ari added, stepping out of the van.

Cally nodded. “Probably. How should we make money in the meantime? So we can get food, supplies, gas, et cetera? Given that literal superbeings are coming for our heads...”

Marcus shrugged. “We could sing and have a hat on the ground.”

Cally deadpanned. “...Seriously, Marcus? We don’t even have any in-”

Marcus pointed at Ari, who was pulling a guitar case out of the car. “Ari is with us, we have instruments.”

“I haven’t played guitar in awhile, but I should still be pretty good at it,” Ari said, strumming the guitar to demonstrate.

“Then it’s settled,” Cally replied. “We can do it tomorrow.”

“I really hope this motel has actual beds,” Ari said, putting the guitar back into its case.”

“Same,” Marcus replied, opening the door. A group of girls and who looked to be a choir were gathered in the lobby, the choir director trying to calm down the rambunctious teens.

“Since when do choirs practice in motels?” Ari whispered, leaning over to Cally.

“I saw a broken down bus. Maybe they were going to do a concert,” she replied. “At any rate, it’s probably none of our business, so we should just get a room.”

Smiling, Cally took the lead, starting to go through the girls, Marcus and Ari close behind. “Excuse me, pardon me, if you don’t mind-”

“Hey! You guys are from that car chase video!” One of the girls gasped, turning away from the choir director.

“...Say what, now?” Marcus asked, confused.

“They called you the One Punch Marksman!” another girl gushed. “You tricked that scary guy and shot him twice!”

“And the chase… it was awesome! How’d you do the effects?!”

Marcus blushed. “Uh…”

Cally burst in before he could answer. “We dunno. We just did the acting.”

“It was so cool!” giggled one. “Can we get pictures?”

“And autographs?”

“And-”

“Hey, hey! Look, I know you guys are excited, but we’re just here to find a room, ok?” Ari interjected, pulling Cally away from the group. “Can you just... chill? Please?”

The girls giggled and conceded, backing away as Cally and Marcus headed to the desk. “Hey,” Marcus smiled. “Any chance you got a spare room?”

“Almost nobody ever stays here. ‘Course we have a room,” the man across the desk answered.

“How much?”

“Since you three got some fame to your names, the boss wants me to give ya a discount. $20.”

“So $40 for two nights?” Cally asked.

“Yeah,” the man replied, putting a hand out for the cash.

“Sounds good!” beamed Ari, handing it over. “So where’s our room?”

“Second floor. Just head left as far as you can go, then take a right. Your room is at the end of that hallway,” The man said, handing the room keys to Ari.

“Thanks,” the teen replied, then tilted his head to tell Cally and Marcus to leave. As they headed up the stairs to the second floor, the rinky dink nature of the motel only became more apparent.

“I don’t like how dark this part of the hotel is,” Cally said. “If we get attacked-”

“Yeah,” Marcus replied. “Not exactly cool with this, either.”

“Guys, smile!” Ari beamed. “We got a hotel room! And a pool!”

The pool was... it made Marcus sad just looking at it, but it was a pool. Which was more than they’d had three days ago.

“It’s...Certainly something,” He said.

“I’ll take this over being cooped up in a van. No offense, Marcus,” Ari said.

“None taken, it was crowded.”

“Ok, he said that our room would be down the hall...Ah! There it is,” Ari pointed down a hall on their left. An uninviting wooden door stood at the end of the corridor.

Marcus groaned. “Ugh.”

Cally sighed. “How is this place still open?”

“People looking for a quick place to stay? I mean, that’s why we’re here,” Ari shrugged.

“Fair,” Marcus agreed. “And $20, what a deal.”

“I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth,” Cally replied as Ari tossed her the keys. “Well, we may as well make ourselves at home.”

Marcus coughed once the door was open, the smell of smoke was so strong. “Gah, son of a gun, who even?! They gave us a smoking room?!”

“Where is it even coming from?” Ari choughed, covering their mouth.

“I dunno,” groaned Cally. “But it’s all we can get. Let’s just get changed and go to bed.”

Marcus sighed once they were all in, then took off his shirt in the cramped room, pulling out a pajama shirt to wear instead.

Cally got into the tiny bathroom to change, and Ari turned their back to Marcus while changing.

Once they were changed, Cally crossed her arms. “One bed. That’s it.”

“Big enough for all of us,” Marcus replied.

Cally winced. “Yeah... I’m not doing that. Hand me one of those extra blankets, I’m sleeping on the floor.”

Marcus nodded. “Suit yourself. Ari?”

“I’m fine with the floor. Besides, I doubt all of us trying to crowd onto the bed would even be comfortable.”

Marcus chuckled bitterly. “Like it’ll be comfortable anyway.”

“Yeah. Looks like it doesn’t even have springs in it.” Ari frowned at the bed.

Cally nodded. “Honestly, the floor is the better option.”

“Here’s hoping this place doesn’t have rats,” Ari remarked. They took the blankets and pillows off the bed and laid them out on the floor. “Are there any more blankets in that closet?” She asked, pointing to a door on the other side of the room.

"Lemme see," Marcus replied, looking at the closet. "I see one." Balling it up, the tattooed teen tossed it to Ari and got into bed. “Night, you two.”

“Night, Marcus. Night, Cal,” Ari smiled, burying himself under the covers.

“Night,” Cally said simply, turning off the lights and allowing herself the pleasure of forgetting her troubles, drowning them in the darkness of her sleep.

#Only Human #Marcus #Cally #Ari #Breather Chapter #things are gonna go south real quick real soon #freak fortress #Team Fortress 2

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jo-ships · 4 years

Text

Of Free Will and Butterflies - chapter 6

Summary: Team Free Will finds themselves in another universe on a mountain with 9 teenagers and as the night goes on, they find that they need to make sure these teens survive.

Josh had slipped out to give Mike and Jess directions and see them off, and with Sam in the bath and Matt and Em looking for the latter's bag, this left Team Free Will and the remaining kids alone. "Think those two couples will be ok?" Jay asked to no one in particular.

"Yeah, probably," answered Chris. "Mike and Jess have each other for entertainment, and Em can handle herself pretty well."

Jay nodded and backed away, joining the brothers who were eying some shelves. "What about you guys? Think the kids will be ok?"

"Yeah, seems pretty safe so far," came Dean's reply. He wasn't too concerned. "If you're asking if there's anything for us here, I doubt it."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, we're just here to rest until someone can open up a rift to take us home."

"Yeah, and hopefully Jack or Gabe get some mojo going soon. In case you don't remember, we were in the middle of something in our universe," Dean added, impatiently.

"Well, you're gonna be waiting a while for me," inputted Gabe. "Don't think I'll be recharged enough for something like a rift for a while."

Jay moved a few steps closer to Gabe who had joined her with the brothers and reached an arm around him, giving him a sort of half hug. "It's ok, if you can help when Jack has enough power that would be great but don't strain yourself." She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and smiled.

"Thanks, sugar," Gabe grinned, glancing at the brothers as if challenging them to say something.

Dean just shook his head and moved to the couch Mike and Jess had been on. Sam pressed his lips together and turned his attention back to the wall decor. "Native American, huh?"

Chris spoke again, being the one in the room closest to Josh's family. "Yeah, this place has been here for a long time, they kept the same decorations up."

"Huh." Sam kept examining the masks and other such decorations. "Any lore on this stuff?"

Sam's question was met with shrugs from the remaining kids. "There's a library somewhere here, maybe there are some books about lore?" Jo suggested. "Chris, you know where it is, right? Maybe you can take him there."

Sam looked interested, so Chris agreed. "Sure, yeah, I can do that."

"And then there were 5," Jo commented after a minute. Just after she said that, in came Josh.

"6," Ash corrected, a snicker coming from Jo afterwards.

"Yeah," Josh nodded, pretending he understood what was going on. "Where's Chris and the, uh," he gestured above him, "the tall one."

"Right here," Chris said, returning to the group. "Just showed him the library, what's up?"

"Just wondering is all." Josh made his way back to the fireplace and started messing with it again, stopping only to go halfway up the stairs and yell. "Sammy!"

"What?" Came her call back.

"You mind coming and helping me with this fire?!" He asked.

"I'm kind of getting in the bath right now!"

"Oh," Josh started before realizing the opportunity to flirt. "Oh, do you-do you need some help with that?" Jo snorted at the question.

"Hardy har!"

Josh laughed at himself and went back down the stairs and to the fireplace. Dean stood up and joined him. "Hey, you need some help? I might be able to."

"Think so?" Josh nodded, still grinning at himself. "Sure, I appreciate it, man."

Jo got up and stretched her arms over her head and in front of her. "Alright, while you guys you that, I've got VS code calling to me." She held up two fingers as a peace sign as she reached for her laptop bag with her other hand. "I'll be over there if you need me." She gestured back at the other seating area on the other side of the room and spun around, walking to the couch to set up her laptop. As she waited for it to boot up, she got out her iPod and started putting in her earbuds until she saw her counterpart approach her. "Hey."

"Hey," Jay greeted back. "Your friends are...wild."

"Ha, you should've seen last year." Jo looked at her laptop grimly and then snapped her attention back to Jay, unplugging her earbuds and hitting shuffle on the playlist she had up. "Guessing we probably have similar music tastes so I hope you don't mind."

"Saint Motel? Hell yeah, love them." Jay settled down on the couch next to her, looking at the laptop screen for a moment before turning her attention to Gabriel who was staying close by, looking around at the walls and second floor above them. "So, this might seem like an odd question but uh... What's the date today? Or tonight, I guess."

"Oh, it's the, uhhh," Jo looked at her iPod screen to check. "February 2nd."

"2020?"

"No, uh, it's 2015," Jo responded, confused.

Jay's only response was, "Ah," and a nod.

"You can do it man, we believe in you," Chris encouraged in one of his impressions.

"Yeah, woo! Let's go, Jo-osh, let's go!" Ash cheered half-heartedly. "And Dean."

"Josh, Dean, you guys are heroes if you get that fire going," Jo added from the other side of the room.

Josh stepped away, leaving Dean to work alone. "Hey, you know something? There's an old spirit board my we used to mess around with somewhere."

"A spirit board?" Ashley questioned.

Chris shook his head. "Those things are bullshit, man."

"No, come on, I think it would be pretty fun to get out again," Josh argued.

"No hot water kinda seems like a major oversight, don't you think?" Sam's voice could suddenly be heard.

"You have to fire up the boiler first." Josh looked at Chris and Ashley before speaking again, "Hey, maybe you guys can go look for that spirit board I mentioned."

Ashley nodded her head and started walking off, waving to Chris to follow. "Come on, Chris, it'll be like a scavenger hunt!"

Chris shrugged dismissively. "Alright. Hey, Jo, wanna join?"

"No, thanks, I'm good." Jo waved, now starting to tap away at the keys on her laptop.

"You up for a ridealong," Josh asked Sam who nodded. He looked back at Dean and patted his arm. "I'll be back soon. You can hold off on the fire 'till I get back."

"I'd rather no one freeze. I'll figure it out," was Dean's response.

"Alright, well, godspeed!" Josh encouraged as he and Sam wandered off to the basement.

"I'm tellin' ya, Jo, if you like Saint Motel now, you're gonna love them in a few years," Jay said, hands behind her head in a relaxed position.

"Can't wait," Jo responded just before some screaming could be heard from the basement.

Jay shot up and looked at Gabe before they both bolted to the stairs. "Stay there," she addressed Jo. "Dean! You heard that too, right?"

Dean met them at the stairs. "Of course I did! I'm not deaf!" They rushed down and heard pounding at a door followed by a muffled yell about the door being locked. "Stand back!" Dean yelled to them, about to kick the door down when the yelling stopped.

"What the hell?" Jay put her ear to the door and shook her head, rolling her eyes as she pulled away. "It was just Chris scaring them."

The door opened revealing Sam, Josh, and Chris wearing a monk outfit. "You're such an ass!" Sam yelled at Chris. "Thank you for trying to help, but it was just this jerk," she fumed, now looking at Dean, Jay, and Gabe.

"What the hell happened in there?" Dean asked.

Chris laughed as he responded. "Oh, I just pranked them." Josh laughed next to him.

"Well don't. We thought something happened," Dean scolded. "Jesus, kids these days." He turned around and started walking back to the stairs.

Jay and Gabe looked at each other, smiles on their faces. "Hey, don't listen to that muttonhead," Gabe started, looking at Chris as the group followed Dean. "He doesn't know a good prank when he sees one."

"Yeah, maybe we're not the best examples to go by, but we've hit him and his brother with some pretty big pranks," Jay added.

Chris nodded, now back to laughing at Sam's reaction. "Yeah? You'll have to tell me about some later. Maybe I can take some notes."

"I'm ready to admit that your little prank may have had a slight whiff of humor to it," Sam interrupted.

"Joke master!" Chris joked with a funny accent.

Sam yelled at Chris and Josh a few more times before giving up. Jay and Gabe, meanwhile, found much amusement in the situation. Jo and Ash met the group at the top of the staircase. "What happened?" Jo questioned, concerned after hearing the screams.

"Yeah, and what are you wearing?" Ash added.

"I have found my true calling," Chris replied, only addressing Ashley's question. He crossed her heart as he spoke and put hit hands together in a mock prayer.

Jo and Ash both cracked a laugh. "Please tell me you're gonna take an oath of silence," the latter joked.

Chris responded by gesturing his hands and moving his mouth as if speaking, earning more laughs from the girls and especially Jo.

"Did you at least get the thingy?" Ash asked.

"Boi-oi-oi-oi-oing." Chris pulled the spirit board box out of his robe and held it up. "Here's our one-way ticket to the spirit realm," he confirmed.

"You know what? You guys go ahead and do that, I've been through enough spooking tonight. I see a hot bath in my crystal ball," Sam excused herself once again and walked upstairs back to her bath.

Josh shrugged with a chuckle. "How about you guys? Any of you wanna join?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope, I'm good. Be careful, those things can be dangerous."

Jay nodded, as did Gabe. "Yeah, they can, so just be careful and follow the rules." Jay backed off towards the couch she had been sitting on, Gabe joining her.

"Yep, you're probably safe but don't do anything stupid like throw the planchette off the table," Gabe warned. "Back things can come of that."

"What, like ghosts?" Chris asked sarcastically.

"Exactly," Gabe answered. Chris still didn't seem to buy it but he didn't argue.

"Yeahhh," Jo said, backing away too. "Think I'm gonna have to sit this one out. It looks fun but... Ghosts freak me out," she reasoned.

"Alright, your loss," Josh replied, now walking off with Chris and Ashley in tow.

Jo walked back to the couch she was on with her laptop and sighed. "Would've been nice to spend that time with-," she cut herself off. "No, never mind."

"With Chris?" Gabe teased.

Jo's face turned red. "Shut up. There's plenty of time anyway. I'll have a chance."

Prev / Next

#self shipping #romantic f/o #self insert #self insert community #self ship community #fictional other #self ship #self shipping community #sam tag #ofwab #my writing #♡Wish you were here♡#♡Pour some sugar on me♡

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joyful-soul-collector · 5 years

Text

Amazing, Actually

Chapter 6: Scene 7 (Click here to read previous scenes!)

Last scene for this chapter guys! Hope you all like it!

Jace and Kita did their homework, Kita not-so-stealthily making sure Jace ate a healthy, filling snack. When they finished, Kita suggested Monopoly and each were in the middle of searching for a lost die when Kita’s parents walked in the door.

“Hey Papá! Hey Dad!” Kita called, her hand grasping under the couch. Jace looked up and hit his head on the bottom of the table where he was searching. He crawled out, rubbing his scalp as he stood.

“Hey Mr. and Mr. Mills. How goes it?”

“Jay, how many times have we told you to just call us Frank and Jose?” Frank said.

Frank was a tall man with curly red hair, and evergreen eyes. His face had freckles scattered about his nose and cheeks, and his teeth were straight and white. Frank always seemed to be smiling, and it took a lot for him to get angry. Jace always liked that about him. Frank put down his keys and bag, while Jose shuffled through some mail.

“I think at least as many times as I’ve been here. Force of habit, sorry,” Jace said.

“No no, it’s quite alright Jay. How was school you two?”

“Fine,” they both answered.

“Did you finish that late assignment Kita?” Jose asked in his slightly Spanish accent. Jose was a dark-skinned man with hair almost as black as Jace’s, had it not been for the few gray streaks. Jose was almost the complete opposite of Frank in terms of personality. Jose was straightforward and strict, and he didn’t smile nearly as much as Frank. But that just meant that when he did smile, it was much more special.

“Yes Papá,” Kita answered.

“How was your weekend Jay?” Frank asked.

“Fine. Boring even,” he lied.

“Well, I hope your first day back was better,” said Jose.

“Eh, it was alright. Much better now that I’m home,” Jace said with a crooked grin. Frank beamed widely at the last word, and Jace could’ve sworn he saw a small smirk from Jose.

“Alright. Well Jose is going to make dinner, and I’m going to head to my office and work on some things for the shop,” said Frank. He walked over and hugged them both, which made Jace’s heart swell, and then walked into the hallway to his office.

“You two both finished your homework?” Jose asked sternly.

“Yes Papá!” Kita groaned.

“Just checking, mija. Go finish your little game, the surprise will be ready soon.”

So Mr. Mills is in on this too? Jace thought. He watched Jose for a few moments as he took out a few cooking supplies and ingredients from the cupboard.

Jace turned to Kita with a small smile.

“So, the surprise is dinner?”

“Dammit. You weren’t supposed to figure that out.” They sat back down at the table, Kita holding the no longer missing die.

“Not much of a surprise, considering I have dinner pretty much every time I come over here,” Jace said.

“Oh hush, it’s not dinner that’s the surprise, it’s what’s for dinner.”

“Ooooh, how mysterious. What is it?”

“What part of ‘surprise’, do you not understand?”

“The part where I’m supposed to wait and find out,” Jace whined. He laid his head on the table, pouting with his lip stuck out. “Waiting is the worst.”

“Yeah I know the feeling, as it’s been your turn for the last five minutes. Just roll the die!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I swear if I get into jail again I’m going to throw something.” He rolled the die and made his car piece jump a few spaces to Chance.

“You’re way too passionate about Monopoly,” Kita said.

“Shhhh I’m drawing a card.”

“Why does that require me to shut up?”

“I don’t know! Quit poking holes in my arguments!”

“You’d be a terrible lawyer.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being one, that shit takes way too much schooling.”

“True. But, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Jace actually thought about this a lot, so he had an answer ready.

“Well, I want to go to college, but I don’t know if that’s really an option. I’m keeping my grades as high as I can and I’m saving up a lot and I’m trying to get a full ride literally anywhere, but I mean who knows how well that’ll work out. If I can get into college, then I don’t really know what I want to do after. Maybe like an office job or something. That’d be nice. I’m not really picky. If I don’t end up being able to go, then I’ll just keep the job I have at the movie theater. Start working full time.”

Jace sighed, and drew his pencil out of his pocket, gently scraping the sharp end along the familiar path down his thumb. “How about you? What do you want to be?”

“Pfft, I don’t know,” Kita said, rolling the die and moving her battleship piece up a few spaces. “I’ll probably end up at the bakery. I’m going to college, and I was thinking that being a detective would be cool, like for the police, but I dunno. They’re both good options really.”

“Oooh, a detective. You gonna catch all the bad guys Sherlock?”

“Heck yeah I am! The game is afoot!”

They spent the next hour still playing Monopoly, but not really paying attention to the game. They talked mostly about the future. What they would do when they grew up, what things might be like, what kind of crazy thing that might happen that could change the whole world. Jace thought aliens might come to Earth, but Kita thought that some sort of sea creatures would walk on to land and be the new superior being.

But it wasn’t all big picture; they talked about what pets they want, what kind of house they’d like, even whether or not they would want houseplants. Jace was just explaining to Kita why the ridged butter knives were better than the flat edged ones, when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

There was an incredibly enticing smell coming from the kitchen. The scent immediately made him think the word “warm”, but it also smelled like garlic and onions and spices and… tomatoes.

“WAIT wait wait wait wait wait wait--”

“I’m waiting, Jace,” Kita interrupted.

“Is that--Are we-- is he making tomato soup?” Jace asked her eagerly, pointing to the kitchen.

“Huh. Is he?” Kita said sarcastically. “Wait, isn’t that your favorite food? How completely random.”

“Yeah, random,” Jace said, rolling his eyes. “Has he been making that this whole time?”

“Probably. You know Papá hates making food from a box or a can. Says it’s ‘not authentic’, so he just made it from scratch.”

“What!? He didn’t have to do all that!”

“I wanted to,” Jose’s voice came from behind him. Jace turned around to see him holding two steaming bowls. Jose’s eyebrows raised slightly at the eager look on Jace’s face, and set he the bowls down in front of them.

“Thanks Mr.--I mean Jose,” Jace said as his stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“You’re welcome, Jay. I’ll be back with Frank in a moment.” Jose disappeared down the hallway. Jace stirred his soup, blowing on it.

“That’s so nice of Jose. And of you! God, you guys are so awesome.” When he ate a spoonful, the flavor spread over his mouth, filling him with warmth. The soup was creamy and thick, tasting even better than it smelled. “This is the best surprise,” he said, sighing happily.

“You are so unbelievably easy to please Jay,” Kita said with a laugh.

“Really? I always thought the opposite,” said Jace.

“Pfft, Jay you make the biggest deal out the smallest things.”

“Jee, thanks, nice to know I’m a drama queen.”

“No, I mean when we do something small for you, you act as though it costed us the world. Like we’d spent a thousand dollars or a month in order to do something for you. I just thought it was nice.”

“Nice?” Sounds more annoying, Jace thought.

“Yeah, I mean it’s just nice that you say thank you. It’s not like there’s a surplus of people who do that.”

“Oh, heh, I suppose. I guess I just don’t really need a lot to be happy.”

Frank and Jose came out of the hallway and Frank kissed Jose on the cheek as they sat down at the table.

“Is it good?” asked Jose.

“Soooo good,” Jace answered. “Am--”

“Amazing, actually?” Kita interrupted.

“…I do say that a lot don’t I?”

They spent the next hour or so laughing and talking and eating together. Jace felt his heart swelling with happiness with each passing moment. He was warm, his belly was full, he was with Kita and Frank and Jose, and his horrible weekend and moment with Clay were the farthest things from his mind, and everything seemed to finally be okay.

“Oh hey, it’s almost seven! We better get you home, Jay,” said Frank suddenly.

The happy balloon in his chest deflated, making his lungs feel as though they were being squeezed tightly.

“Oh. Right,” Jace said, his voice suddenly feeling hoarse.

He’d forgotten for a moment. Of course things couldn’t just stay like this forever. Have to go back to reality at some point, Jace thought as he cleared his empty bowl. He and Kita went to her room to pack up his things.

“Hey, so you’re still coming for Halloween tomorrow right?” Kita asked.

“Yep,” Jace replied tonelessly.

Kita opened her mouth, and then closed it again, instead turning to grab Jace’s notebook from off her bed. Jace took a little more time than needed to pack up his things; he really didn’t want to leave. Kita let him dawdle, knowing how he felt, and Jace appreciated that. He kept looking around as though worried he wouldn’t see this place again, even though he knew he would be back tomorrow. After spending almost a two minutes tying and retying his tattered sneakers, they finally walked to the car.

With each minute they spent in the car, Jace could feel the familiar anxiety in his shoulders returning. He held his backpack close to his chest, hugging it like it was a lifeline. Dread was like a creature, crawling up his back and infecting his veins with anxious venom, making his muscles tense up so much it hurt. He knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until tomorrow, when he went back home.

To his real home.

They arrived at the motel, the car stopping just outside his room. Number nine, ground floor.

“Oh I forgot! Jay, I brought you something from the bakery, I think it’s in this bag here…” Frank said and started rustling in the bag in the passenger seat. He drew out a muffin, much like the one Kita gave him on the bus, only instead of little dots of blueberry juice, the dots were a reddish pink. “It’s raspberry, I remember you liking those ones, right?”

“Yeah, I love those ones! Thank you Mr.--I mean Frank. You guys are being way too nice today.”

“You’re welcome Jay. I’ll see you tomorrow for Halloween! Don’t forget to bring your costume to school with you.”

“Thanks Frank. I’ll see you.” Jace opened the car door, still holding the muffin, and Kita walked with him to his room. They stood for a moment outside his door, before Jace saw a flash of movement to his left, and Kita slammed into his ribcage.

“Gagh! What are you--” He cut off. It took him a moment to realize she was hugging him, not attacking him. “Jesus, I didn’t know someone could hug so violently.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her closer.

“Sorry.”

“You’re fine.”

“But you’re not.”

“Sure I am.”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m--”

“Yes, you are.”

“…I don’t know if I am.”

“If you’re okay, or if you’re lying?”

“Both. Neither. Can I get back to you on that one?”

“Sure.”

There was a silence, where they both just stared at the metal nine on the door.

“You know that just squeezing the life out of me doesn’t make it so I don’t have to leave, right?” said Jace.

“Shhhh, I don’t care right now,” said Kita.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be fine,” Jace said, lowering his head slightly so as to look her directly in the eyes.

“I know,” she said. She squeezed him tighter, enough to make Jace worried his ribs would crack, then released him and waved goodbye, jogging over to Frank’s car.

Jace unlocked the door, and went inside.

He sighed as he flicked on the lights. Nobody was there. The only sign anyone lived here were the ruffled bed sheets and the empty bottles still lying on the floor. He probably could’ve stayed at Kita’s a little longer if he’d known no one would be around to meet him. But he could hear the car driving away.

Now that he could have a light on, he could see the room much more clearly than he could that morning. A lamp, the alarm clock and a motel phone stood on a small table between two beds, one being his parents, and the other his own. The walls were a sickly yellow color, and while the floors were carpeted, they still felt rock hard. A mini fridge stood to the right of a wooden dresser which had a TV on top, and to the left of that dresser was the entrance to the bathroom. He shut the door and put the muffin on the table next to the alarm clock.

He turned and tossed his backpack onto his bed before flopping down on it himself. He regretted it immediately as the hard mattress almost knocked the wind out of him.

“Ouch,” he said to the room. He stared at the cracking ceiling for a moment before remembering that he was supposed to call his mom to let her know he was okay.

Jace sat up and started dialing her number into the motel phone, and it rang twice before she answered.

“Hey baby, you made it home?” she said sweetly. Jace could hear the bustlings of the diner in the background.

“Yeah I did. Just calling to let you know I’m okay,” Jace said. He drew out his pencil and started twirling it in between his fingers.

“Thanks honey. I have to go in a second, but how was your day?”

“Great.” Only half a lie. “It was just a normal day. Nothing really important.” A whole lie.

“That’s good. You went to Kita’s right? Did you--”

“Yes, I had dinner. I always have dinner at her house, you know that.”

“Just checking dear. I’ll be home around ten tonight. Make sure you don’t stay up too late, I want you sleeping when I get home okay?”

“Okay. Bye mom.”

“Bye hon.”

End Chapter

Tag List: @timetravelingpigeon @alexis-writes-sometimes @txintedsxint @purpleshadows1989 @gabbysmadness @thescholarsninja @danger-writes @midnight-dancer-daydreamer @musicofglassandwords @sunlight-and-starskies @panic-at-my-sexuality @edenbooknerd

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21st-century-daydreamer · 5 years

Text

This Stupid Little Thing Called Life. (Prologue)

Summary: 6 teenagers got kidnapped while on a trip across Europe. The reader finds out that it’s not just a usual kidnapping. That the world is not what she thought it was. The mundane girl got swept into the world S.H.I.E.L.D and H.Y.D.R.A.

Word Count: 1,851

Warnings: Nothing yet...Maybe violence?

Pairing: Eventual Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, OC x Reader, Avengers x platonic!Reader

if you wanna be tagged on the next part please message me here.

Part 1

Salut=Hello

2007

“Everything is packed and ready right?” I asked as I paced around the baggage.

“Okay... everything is fine and dandy alright...relax,” Felicity said while putting her arms around my shoulder.

“I can’t believe we’re on vacation across Europe!” Britney shrieks.

“I know... you’ve said that a week ago when we landed in Athens.” I giggled. I looked around searching for Lizzy. “Where is Liz?” I asked around.

“I think she’s in the bathroom,” David said. I walked over to the bathroom door and knocked “Liz? We need to check out in like 10 minute. You gotta hurry!”

“Yep.” I heard a reply.

“hey sit down for a bit. I assure you we’re not gonna miss our train.” Noah said.

The six of us decided that it would be a great idea to go backpacking across Europe after our high school graduation before we go our separate way to college. We started our journey from Athene, Greece. Well at first I thought they really wanna go backpacking the whole way until Brit can’t take the dingy sketchy motel anymore. And decided to check us in a three-star hotel in Bucharest. In an hour our train will leave for Paris.

“Let’s go!” I heard a flush from a bathroom and started to descend to the lobby.

“Salut, how can I help you?” The receptionist greets me.

“Salut I’m here to check out from our room.” she took my cards and type something into the computer. As I was waiting, a man walked up to the receptionist. I gave him a polite smile, and he said “vacation?” he looked like a typical dude, black pants and a black top with a brown jacket.

“yeah” I replied.

“Where are you going next?” he said with a thick accent.

“Paris.” I smiled. “Long way huh?” he smiled.

“yeah...”

“You are all done, miss. Have a nice trip.” Sophia the receptionist gave me a polite smile and proceed to the guy next to me. “Thank you.” I gave the guy a smile and left. I walked over to the group and Britney immediately asked about the guy at the reception. “Who is the hottie that chats you up?”

“No one Brit, I didn’t even ask his name.”

“If you need like 15 minutes in the bathroom with him, we have time...” she smirked. “He’s still checking you out.” I turned around and saw him gave me a smile. “No, he just asked me where I’m going next, that’s it.”

“You tell him you’re checking out?” Brit asked her brow furrowed in confusion.

“No...” hmm that’s weird, how would he know that I was checking out. He definitely didn’t see me handing her the card, he wasn’t there yet.

“Lucky guess, maybe? Come on we need to go.” and with that, we left to the train station.

As soon as we got inside the train and put our belonging on the compartment above us, I prepare everything for the 15-hour train ride. I put on my neck pillow and open my book. But as soon as I finished the first paragraph Brit who was sitting next to me grabbed the book. “The Education of a Coroner: Lessons in Investigating Death. Really? Can you be more normal? Bitch, we’re stuck in this moving metal box for 15 hours, and you are not gonna spend it buried in your books. Listen I brought face mask, we can do face masks together. And paint my nails, you brought the nail polish right?” she said as she pulled out the face mask.

“Brit painting your nail in a moving and shaky place is not a good idea.” I took off my neck pillow and set it aside.

“I trust that artistic hand of yours, (y/n/n)”

After hours of chatting, I realized that everyone that boarded the train has left on the last station. “We’re the only one here in this car.” Noah pointed out.

“Yeah if it was any other day, I’d do something crazy. But I’m exhausted.” David replied with his sleeping mask still on. Felicity and Liz who sat beside each other have passed out like hours ago. We got 11 hours more to go. I looked over Brit that has passed out next to me. That was quick for her to fall asleep I thought. Suddenly this wave of exhaustion and sleepiness came out of nowhere and hit me. “Night guys.” I closed my eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

When I woke up it was still dark outside. I looked at my watch and realized that I have only been sleeping for 3 hours. Noah and David were just starting to wake up from their deep sleep. My stomach grumbled and suddenly I felt really thirsty. That’s really weird considering 5 minutes before I fell asleep I had a pretty big meal. I turned to Noah asking him whether he wanted to go to the food car with me, but Noah seemed to still be pretty out of it. So I walked up towards the car door passing through the deserted isle of the train, for some reason it felt really eerie.

I opened the door but it won’t budge. I can see through the door window to the food car, I waved my hand towards the server that was standing in front of a counter to get his attention. After a couple waves, he turned towards my direction but he didn’t even acknowledge me. I waved more erratically and he didn’t even budge. Behind him, there was a guy in a blue shirt picking up his coffee from the counter after a couple seconds he did the same thing again. I stood there baffled watching the whole ordeal. After the 10th coffee and 10th head turn from the server, I realized something was wrong.

“Guys I think something is not right” I called out to them.

“Every situation is always problematic for your paranoid ass,” Felicity replied with an annoyed tone.

“No seriously, the door is locked. I’ve been waving to that server over there for the past 5 minutes!” I started to panic.

“Maybe he didn’t see you?” Liz chimed in.

“Seriously I’m not kidding you guys...Something is definitely wrong.”

“Have you seen my phone anywhere?” Brit asked. From her tone, I assume she just woke up. “Drop call it, please anyone. I can’t find it anywhere.” Everyone started to look around for their phones. “I can’t find mine either,” David said. No one could find their phones. “Have we been robbed?”

“That’s unlikely Liz, my wallet is still on my lap. And our bag is still in the compartment.” Noah stood up and walked towards me.

I panicked and looked around other windows. It was pitch black.

Noah looked at the door window and I explained to them what is going on. He tilted his head to the side. “Y/n I want you to not panic, but I think this is a screen.” he brought his fingers to my chin and tilted my head to the side. I saw it, the little dot’s that you usually see if you put your face close enough to a tv.

WHAT THE HELL

I ran to my bag and retrieve my handy dandy flashlight. “What are you doing?” Noah asked me. I turned it on and face it towards the pitch black window and the light bounce back. “What does it mean?” Brit asked, her voice is shaking.

“If this is a real window the light would go through it and we can see something outside. This is not a window.”

“Wait I don’t understand... does this mean that we are in danger?” Liz said.

“I don-” Suddenly the shaking of the train stopped and we can’t hear the engine anymore, it’s like the train stopped moving. The screen on the door turned black. It’s insanely quiet.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Brit started crying.

“Take anything to protect yourself with,” I told them.

“Why? You’re so paranoid it’s not like people are gonna come in here and atta-”

“SHUT UP!! THIS IS NOT HER PARANOIA ANYMORE THIS SHIT IS REAL!” Brit screamed at her face.

Suddenly the door started sliding open. So as the one behind us.

There were men, armed men with guns. Dozens of them on the door behind us. Same with the one in front of us but there was an old guy with a lab coat standing in front of them.

“No one moves,” I told them.

“Welcome...You’ve come a long way.” The guy with the lab coat said. I heard there was a couple sob behind me, I’m guessing it was the three girls I’m with.

“You are not Paris’s welcome wagon, are you? Cause it’s pretty depressing for Paris.”

“Y/n Y/l/n, always with the sarcasm. I’m Doctor Ba-”

“I don’t care. What is this? What do you want?”

He smiled “We want you.” He motioned his men to take us. We do as our instinct says. I started to hit them with my flashlight, use the things I know about hand to hand combat from a survival class that my dad told me to get. I jabbed one of the guards in the neck. He didn’t shoot me so I thought they needed us alive. I continue to kick the second guard on his shin, and then I heard two gunshots from behind me and a deafening scream. I turned around and saw that Felicity and David lying on the floor blood seeping through their clothes. My adrenalin went crazy all I see is red, I started attacking every guard in front of me, knowing that they’re gonna either shoot me or overpower me.

“Don’t shoot her.” I heard doctor asshole’s voice.

One of the guards kicked me in the back of the knees and I tumbled down to the floor. He cuffed my hand on my back.

“Stand up!” He dragged me towards the doctor. He was holding some type of syringe with a green liquid inside of it. “What is that?” he ignored me and injected whatever it was into my neck. It burned. I screamed and kicked everywhere. He brought me outside. It looked like a huge warehouse the only thing that I realized was the train was a simulation. I heard more screams they got it too I thought to myself. The guard pushed open a large door. I couldn’t really see what’s around me, it’s hard to focus when you feel like your body is on fire. I tried to take in as much information as I can. There were computers and other things around me. It looked dirty and things are clustered everywhere. He turned right towards a small hallway and stopped at another metal door. He opened it and there were cells lining up the wall. He threw me in one, it’s all concrete. He opened my cuffs but it’s too painful to do anything. He shackled both my arms and legs. I realized that they’re separating us, I grabbed his kevlar and saw one symbol an octopus with a skull for the head.

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andy-clutterbuck · 2 years

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9x02 | The Bridge

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hannahindie · 6 years

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Breathe - Part 4

Pairing: Dean x Reader Series Warnings: Fatal illness, character death, blood, canon violence, language, eventual smut, kidnapping. Word Count: 3,200 Square Filled: Fatal Illness Summary: Six months ago, Y/N runs into someone unexpected at the local bar while researching a case. For one night, she decides to forget and just try to be normal. Present day, Dean wants answers and Y/N isn’t sure how to explain herself. A/N: This is the fourth part of my SPN Angst Bingo Card series, hosted by @spnangstbingo. It will be seven parts, and the schedule has already been posted. It will post twice a week (Monday and Friday) until it wraps up.

It was beta’d by the ever fantastic and my writing soulmate @trexrambling: “ Don't we all. -happy sigh-”

My beautiful twinny, @pinknerdpanda: “oof...this would give me feelings to hear from the lips of Dean Winchester”

And my dear, sweet angel baby @masksandtruths: “Ughhhh. Yep I want to go cry in a corner now.”

Thanks to all three for helping a girl out so that her words make sense. I owe a lot to all of you.

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know.

6 months earlier…

This bar is perfect. It's in the middle of nowhere, it's cheap, and so far not one person has tried to get my number or buy me a drink.

“Hey, sweetheart, can I buy you a drink?”

Never mind.

I take a deep breath then spin around to face the jackass that's ruining my perfect bar experience, “What makes you think-”

“Y/N?”

I should have recognized his voice, but I definitely recognize the green eyes sparkling in the dim light, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he realizes who he just tried to hit on.

“Dean?”

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” He looks like he’s trying to decide if he should do something, like give me a hug or a hearty pat on the arm, but ends up just jamming his hands into his pockets. I give him an awkward smile.

“Working a case, what about you?” I turn back to the bar and he slides onto the stool next to me.

“We just finished one, heard there might be something over this way so we figured we'd check it out before we went home.” He waves down the bartender and orders two more beers.

“I'm not even sure it is a case. Haven't been able to find much, I'm starting to think it's a thing for the locals to handle. I figure I'll do some more research in the morning, head out of it’s nothing.” I take a swig from my beer as he waves the bartender down. “We? Sam is here too?”

“Yea, he said he wanted to research and the bar would be too loud. The campus library is open late, so he's camping out there for the night.”

We fall silent, and I wish it didn't feel so awkward. There didn't used to be this...space. Now it feels like we are on two totally different tracks, speeding along next to each other but never actually crossing paths. Not even when we are sitting mere inches apart. I won't lie; the feeling sucks.

“It's been awhile. Why haven't you called?” I look over and he's fiddling with the label on his beer, pulling it off the bottle in tiny pieces like he's always done when he's nervous.

I shrug, “It’s been busy. Phones work two ways, you know.” I’ll just leave out the whole ‘cancer takes a lot of out of you’ part, and the bit where I shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with my pain medicine.

“Fair enough.” He clears his throat, “Listen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything...about Bobby, about what...what I said.” His voice is quiet, but the apology packs a punch. Dean isn’t usually one to apologize, at least not easily.

“You weren’t the only one that said shitty things, Dean. It’s not like I offered you a fresh glass of sweet tea and invited you to sit on the porch with me so we could talk about our feelings.”

He chuckles and I finish my beer, sliding it down the bar as I grab the one Dean just bought for me. “I guess that’s true.” He sighs, “What happened to us? We were...we were good, weren’t we? You, me, and Sammy...we were the best.”

I glance over and really look at him for the first time since he’s sat down. He looks tired, his face more haunted than it was the last time I saw him. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and, considering he’s a Winchester, that’s probably not too far from the truth. He’s still handsome though; age has been kind to him. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are more pronounced, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. I like it, other than it hides how strong his jawline is.

“You still are.”

He smiles sadly and shakes his head, “If you knew...I’m not the best, not anymore.”

Without thinking, I put my hand on his arm and he looks up at me, “Life happened to us, Dean. And it’s not like one of the monsters that we can hunt down and destroy. Life sneaks up and picks and pulls you apart, and every once in awhile it gives you a little glimmer of hope, of what could be. If you’re lucky, the glimmer turns into something more, but for people like us...that’s all it is. A hope of what could be, not what’s going to happen. We save people, but we don’t save ourselves.”

I stare at my hand on his arm and remember what we used to be like; best friends, inseparable as soon as John put me in the backseat of the Impala. It wasn’t fair of me to blame him for Bobby’s death, but I had been angry and hurt. It never occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one that lost their father that day, not until it was too late, anyway. “You are a good man who has given up everything so that others don’t have to. I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to understand that before.”

Dean softly places his hand on top of mine and squeezes, “You’ve given up a lot, too.” He clears his throat and straightens up on the barstool, his hand moving from mine to his beer. “I think we need something a little stronger than beer. Still a whiskey girl?”

“You bet your sweet ass I am,” I respond with a smile, grateful that the familiar comfort I used to feel with Dean seems to have returned.

“D-do you remember that time we stole Bobby’s truck and went into town, I don’t even remember what we were lookin’ for, but we left and didn’t tell him?” I stumble slightly, and Dean catches my arm.

“How can you not remember what we were lookin’ for? You decided you wanted to go see Titanic, and you talked my stupid ass into it!”

I snort, “Pshtttt, you know you wanted to see some Kate Winslet boobies, don’t even pretend.”

“I had to pretend to be your brother so you could get in! Lemme just add that as much as I may have wanted to see Kate Winslet boobs, I by no means wanted to see them with you sitting next to me.”

“Listen, you loved that movie. I saw you cry.”

“Tha’s...tha’s bullshit. I don’t cry over chick flicks, ‘specially not when I’m with someone else in a public theater.” He gives his head an emphatic shake, as if that’s going to drive his point home.

“HA!” I stop and poke him in the chest, “You said ‘especially’, which means you’re not above doin’ it alone. Dean Winchester has feelings.”

“Oh, I had feelings, just wasn’t ‘bout the movie.”

“See! You have feelings, you just ad..mitt….wait, what?” My finger is still on his chest, and he smirks down at me.

“Y’heard me.” His eyes are sparkling, and the mischievous look he used to have when we were young is back. It makes him look like a kid again, and it’s enough to make me ignore how badly this could end. I forget that my decision has made this an impossibility, and I shift my hand so that it lays flat against his chest. He’s warm, God, he’s so warm and I can feel his heart beating against my palm.

“You had feelings?”

His hands land on my waist and he pulls me flush against him. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or his proximity, but my face feels hot as I stare up at him. “I never said they stopped.”

“Oh,” I breathe out, his words fuzzy and sharp at the same time. “I...d’ya want...I mean, my hotel room is jus’-” I don’t get a chance to finish my question because his lips are on mine and it’s like my entire brain short circuits. I would be lying if I said I never wanted to find out what this felt like. I assume any woman that looks at Dean wonders what it would be like.

I can promise you, there are no words to describe how it feels.

I can try. I can tell you that his lips are soft, softer than I could have ever imagined. He smells like gun oil and leather, with a hint of whiskey from our time at the bar. It reminds me of home, of riding in the backs of cars and learning how to fight, and how to care for people. He’s warm, even through all his layers it's radiating from him like a heater, and I can’t help but let my hands roam across his chest and down to the small of his back.

He pulls back and laughs softly and I take a moment to catch my breath. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t think this can continue in public.” He shifts, and I am made aware as to why we should probably vacate the busy sidewalk.

“Come on, I think I can remedy that.” I grab his hand and start walking down the street again.

“Where are we going?”

“My hotel room, duh.” He laughs, and it’s like music to my ears. For the first time in a long time, everything feels...normal.

I’m not dying. We aren’t fighting monsters and evil, and we aren’t saving the world. We’re drunk, and we’re letting ourselves feel what normal people get to feel. It might just be a beautiful lie that we’re telling ourselves for this one night, but I don’t care. Because for once...for once it can just be us, and I don’t have to remember that it’s going to be short lived.

We stop in front of my motel room and I drunkenly dig through my pocket, but it’s made difficult by Dean grabbing me by the waist and pressing me against the wall next to the door.

“Dean, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I can’t…mmmm...I can’t get to my key.” His teeth graze my throat, right at my pulse, and I nearly melt. I can feel him smiling against me and I smack his arm. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

“Oh, I know.” He pulls back and lets me finally pull the key free, watching in amusement as I fumble it into the lock. “Know what else I know?”

I look back at him as the door swings open, “What?”

“I’m damn lucky we decided to stop in Omaha.” He picks me up and carries me into the room, slamming the door shut behind us with his foot.

He isn't the only lucky one.

Now…

It's the beeping that gets me, the incessant dinging of machines, whirring sounds and footsteps, and the never ending barrage of announcements over the intercom system that finally pulls me out of what feels like a coma. Then the smell takes over; a suffocating cloud of cleaners and sanitizers that I only ever encounter in hospitals.

My eyes slowly open to see a blurry form sitting in the chair next to me, chin against his chest as he breathes slowly in and out, the cadence making it obvious he's asleep. Sunlight is creeping through the long, vertical blinds, and the television is turned to some daytime talk show rerun.

“Oh, you're awake!” I roll my head towards the door and see a smiling nurse walk through it and watch as she checks whatever machines I'm hooked to. “You gave us all quite the scare.”

“Sorry…” I don't know what else to say.

“Aww, honey, you don't need to be sorry. I'm just glad to see you're awake. I think he will be, too. He's refused to leave this entire time. Not even the threat of a security escort seemed to phase him.”

I look back over at Dean, who's shifted enough so that his head is tilted against the back of the chair, his mouth hanging open. “That sounds about right.” I struggle to sit up more, and she hurries over.

“Here, let me give you a hand. I'm going to call your doctor, she said she needs to have a little chat with you.” Her face falls slightly as she smooths out the blanket, then she clears her throat and suddenly the smile is back, “I'll be right back.”

“Wait…”

She turns to look at me, “Yes?”

“How long have I been out?”

Her smile disappears again and a crease appears between her brows, “Four days.” She disappears around the corner quickly as if she wants to avoid any other questions and I sigh. Four days.

I grab for the remote, but for a second it's like my hands forget how to do their job, like my brain isn't connected to them, so I juggle it for a second before it slips out of my hand and hits the floor with a crash. Dean jerks upright in his chair.

“What?! What the hell?” It takes a minute for his brain to register where he is and what made the noise, and I watch his eyes come into focus as he stares at me. “You're awake.”

“Yea…” I can feel tubing pressing against my nose and I reach up to pull it off. Dean leans over and puts his hand over mine, gently pushing my hand down to the bed.

“Leave it, they just got you stable enough to use that instead of a mask.” He leans back and watches me, but stays quiet. He looks like he’s thinking about what to say; I know he has a lot of questions, and I’m afraid of what he’ll ask first. I also wonder what he already knows, and how he’s managed to get in here and stay for such an extended amount of time.

“How’d you manage to not get kicked out?”

“Told ‘em we were married, that we were on our honeymoon.”

I would laugh, but I know it’s going to hurt. Judging by the look on his face, it probably isn’t wise anyway. “What about Sam?”

“Told ‘em he lives nearby and that we were visiting him. He’s getting coffee right now.” He crosses his arms, “It was a little harder to explain all the bruises, and why you were pumped full of painkillers before you got here. And the massive amount of blood you were coughing up, see that was the hardest one, because they just assume a husband would know his wife’s medical history.”

“Well, we aren’t actually married-”

“Nope, I’m gonna stop you right there.” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and the look of betrayal on his face makes it incredibly hard to look him in the eye. “We are family, Y/N. I get that maybe I want more than that, and that you aren't ready for it. That's fine, but you are still my family. We are supposed to take care of each other. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, and you lying about this...it could have gotten any of us killed. You realize this, right? I should have realized at the hotel something was wrong...I should know the difference between lipstick and blood.”

“Dean…”

“Listen, I’m not...I’m not angry. I feel like I should be, but I’m not. I just want to understand why you didn’t think you could trust me with this. Why did you not let us help you?”

“It’s difficult to explain-”

“Hello, Y/N.” I recognize the voice before I even turn to face whoever interrupted me.

“Hey, doc.”

She walks around to the end of the bed, clipboard in hand, and glances over at Dean, “This is your husband?” I swallow nervously; she knows I’m not married. It’s not been that long since I’ve seen her. The look in her eyes is a soft accusation, but when I nod in confirmation, she gives him a gentle smile. “Nice to meet you.” She looks down at the chart and when she looks back up, I can see it on her face. “I think you probably know what I’m going to tell you, but I’m guessing he’d like to know what’s going on, and I think you need to know exactly how bad this is.”

That’s the one thing about her that I like; she’s straightforward, no bullshit. She somehow knows that Dean has no idea what’s going on, and I’m simultaneously impressed and terrified. He was never supposed to know about this. I was going to go out hunter style, a blaze of bloody glory. I was alone. Why didn’t I just stay alone?

“Your cancer has spread. It’s no longer just in one lung and the lymph nodes on that side, it’s in both, which is why you began to cough up so much blood. Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. Your body is exhausted, and it’s starting to give up. Without treatment…” she trails off and looks at Dean, who looks like he’s about to be sick. “Even with treatment, it will simply be done to keep you comfortable, though it may prolong your life slightly. Without treatment, your time is very limited. I’m...I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay, but...I chose this. I knew what was going to happen.”

She nods, then gently pats my blanketed leg, “I’m going to go, give you some time to decide.” She looks at Dean one last time, then walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her. I drop my head back against the pillows and close my eyes. Shit.

“Cancer?” His voice is quiet, but rough with held back tears. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter; I can’t look at him.

“Dean, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Omaha...I didn’t…”

“What are you going to do?” I look at him sharply, but he’s looking down at his hands instead of me.

“What do you mean?”

He looks up, and his eyes are even brighter from the tears he’s fighting against. It hurts more than anything else he could even say. “Are you going to do treatment, or no?”

I swallow thickly, knowing he’s not going to like the answer. I don’t like the answer, but it’s for the best. “I’m tired, Dean. I’m tired and broken, and I can’t drag this out longer. I just can’t. I don’t want to waste away in some bed somewhere, knowing that I’m just putting off the inevitable. I want to go home...I want to spend time with you and Sam, I want to save as many people as I can before it’s over. I just...I wanna go home.”

He blinks, then rubs a palm roughly against his eyes as he stands up, “Okay, well, let’s bust you out of here then. I’m gonna go talk to the nurse. I’ll...I’ll be back to get you. If Sammy comes back while I’m gone, let him know where I went.” He walks out of the room without another word.

I lay back and close my eyes, and I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Read Part 5 HERE.

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