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writingthingsisdifficult · 6 years

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Petrichor

The follow up to Something. Some of you probably expect smut from this, but I think I’m incapable of writing smut, so there’s that. Hope you like this fluffy piece instead.

As always: let me know what you think. I thrive on feedback.

Word count: 1426

Sam woke with a start as a violent flash of light illuminated the room. Less than a second later, a loud boom followed by a softer rumble pulled him from the post-sleep haze. Fumbling for the gun he always kept under his pillow, he sat up and squinted into the darkness. There was silence now. And he could see nothing but the silhouettes of one very sleepy, yet very alert man and a vaguely humanoid lump on the third bed.

Then he heard it. “Rain!” he blurted out with a happy hum. “It’s raining!” Putting away the gun again, he lay down to go back to sleep, stopping when he noticed Dean didn’t. At first, he wondered if he’d missed the initial threat, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he chuckled to himself.

“Go back to sleep. Dean,” he whispered. “You can stare at her again tomorrow.”

The distant rumble drew you from your restless slumber. At first, you stupidly thought someone was snoring, but suddenly the room was illuminated by a flash of light, immediately followed by rolling waves of thunder. Opening your eyes, you stared at the ceiling for a couple of seconds, trying to persuade yourself back to sleep.

Then a chill went through the air, and you before you knew it, you swung your feet over the edge of the bed. Eager to cool down your sticky skin, you were halfway across the floor before you remembered your lack of clothes.

You snuck a quick glance towards Dean and Sam to make sure they were still sleeping – momentarily losing yourself in Dean’s adorable freckles and the half-smile on his lips.

Shaking your head quickly, you blinked a few times. No use standing there like a deer in headlights. You grabbed the closest t-shirt and pulled it over your head. The warm, safe scent of Dean wrapped around you, and you glanced down, smiling when you read Led Zeppelin upside down in faded letters.

When you opened the door, it was like submerging your body in cold water. Goosebumps covered your arms, and the hairs on your neck rose, but after so long in the oven so to speak, you couldn’t think of a better feeling.

Outside the rain washed away the dust and the last remnants of the heat wave, while the sky lit up through the clouds, sending tiny sparks of thrill through your body.

Soon, a tiny stream had formed in the street, running down towards the pond just behind the parking lot.

The night was dark, and the heat was over. You were content.

Another crash of thunder drew Dean from his sleep again. Something felt different this time. Like the weather was closer. He looked around and found your bed empty.

As silently as he could, he sat up. You were standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a tee he recognised as his own. Your feet were bare, and you shifted between them: a silent dance of rubbing one foot then the other against your calf to warm up.

Not knowing what made him do it, he got to his feet and padded over to the door. For a moment it was like the lightning leapt between the two of you, and he shuddered.

Sorta keeping his distance, he made himself known, even though you probably had heard him coming – you were a hunter after all. And a damn good one, too! Why did he have to be so goddamn impressed by you?

The silence grew as the rain poured down. Soon you were enveloped in a pleasant bubble of cold, humid air, sparkling electricity, and the earthy smell of warm asphalt and dry soil mixed with water.

It felt like you were going to explode – you could barely breathe, and behind you Dean stood gazing into the weather. It was excruciating. Something had to be done.

“Petrichor,” you said after trying and failing to come up with something suave to say.

Dean was lost. “Hm?”

“The smell,” you continued with a small smile. “It’s called petrichor.”

“Oh. It’s good.” He doubted you were talking about the same thing – he was far too gone to focus on anything but the sleepy warmth of your hair and the remnants of your perfume, but occasionally a gust of wind would hurl something else at him – a whiff of dirt, or oil, or stones, and he’d try to shake himself out of it. It didn’t work.

Looking up at the brownish-purple clouds, you let out a small sigh. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you whispered, almost not daring to break the silence.

“Yes,” Dean replied, never taking his eyes off you. “Beautiful.”

He resisted the urge to brush away a stray lock of hair from your cheek, and instead shifted his feet so he stood a little bit closer. As he felt the heat that radiated from your skin, shivers ran down his spine. The hair on his neck rose and fell in a swift wave, and he realised then that he was in too deep. Something had to be done, and that something had to be done soon.

The sky lit up again, and for the first time you saw the entire lightning bolt, just as they appeared in photos. The splendour and force startled you, and you jumped backwards with a yelp, kicking Dean in the shin at the same time.

“Oh Christ, I’m sorry,” you muttered, turning to assess the damage.

Deans stood much closer than you expected. He was massaging his leg and the close proximity of his face threw you for a moment. The shape of his nose, his cheekbones; it was as if you were seeing him for the first time. And the way the corners of his mouth bent upwards even when he was in pain: it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise that you’d fallen head over heels. And above all: the kindness in his eyes – that was what had melted your heart in the first place.

You stared in reverence for a moment before letting out a small breath and forcing your eyes to the floor. But you just couldn’t force yourself to turn away again, so you watched your own toes wiggling, and counted your breaths.

Dean hummed without a melody and shifted his weight from one foot to another, and you cringed. You’d gone and embarrassed him – or yourself, you weren’t quite sure which, and the humiliation was all-consuming. If only the ground would swallow you right now.

“Um…” Dean began, not sure how to start properly. “I’m, uh –“ A long pause – long enough for you to brave your shame and look up. The struggle evident in his face surprised you. Dean always knew what to say and do.

“Uh…” he repeated, then rubbed his neck in frustration. “Screw this! The heat has turned my brain into mush!” He smiled that little smile he reserved for those times he was truly content.

It made your stomach soar, and despite feeling queasy with anxiety, the joy of seeing him happy – he deserved it so – overshadowed every bad thought in your brain. You smiled back.

Then, before you even had time to register what happened, he cupped your face and kissed you. It was short and sweet, and it left you speechless and aching for more, staring at his face with your mouth hanging open.

“Uh…” you said, but the only sound was that of a leaking balloon.

Dean took a step backwards. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I mean, I obviously did, but you didn’t… Sorry, I’m an ass –“

His frantic whispering brought you back, and you held a finger to his lips. Speaking softly, you looked into his eyes and saw nothing but love. “Dean, you have nothing to apologise for. I-I’ve been dreaming about, I mean totally without the brain farts and I hoped I’d be more suave, but –“ At that moment a flash of lightning lit up the entire sky, and you both automatically turned to look.

“Wow.” It was more of a breath than an actual word.

“Mhm,” Dean replied in your ear and twirled you around so your back leaned against his chest. He put his arms around you and kissed the side of your head. A part of him wanted to toss you over his shoulder and carry you to his bed, but a larger, stronger part of him was content – for now. We have time, he thought to himself, savouring the moment and breathing in the scent. Petrichor.

Tagging my sweet friends:

Because you said you wanted a part two: @shutupiminlooove

@orpheus-aeiou @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @fandomismyspiritanimal @barneybrigade @mogaruke @wstrumpel @whovianextrodinare @hennessy0274-blog @sushi-senpai-chan @tardis-is-mine @megasimpleplan4ever @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @kathaswings

#dean x reader #supernatural fan fiction #dean winchester #reader insert #fluff #petrichor #writing is hard

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