Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Dean enlisted in the hopes to help secure enough money for Sam to be able to go to college. Of course, he didn’t tell Sam. Why would he? Sam would understand, right? Turns out, Sam didn’t get it, and is giving Dean the silent treatment for over a year. In Dean’s desperation to reconnect with Sam, Dean reaches out to his brother’s best friend. Little does he know that the hurricane named Y/N will turn out to be the reason he wants to stay alive and go back home for.
Chapter Warnings: All aboard the angst train! Last call! There’s a sad telephone call in this. I’m sorry.
WC: 32045Please respect copyright.PENANA7sVb5SIW31
“Come on, just one drink, huh?” The guy, whose name Y/N’s already forgotten even if it was only two minutes ago that he introduced himself to her, pleads with her, his hands braced on the table, a large palm covering one of her textbooks. Obviously, some people have no respect for personal space whatsoever.
They’re in the library and he speaks with a hushed voice. She’s sitting at a table while he looks down at her, his eyes pleading, and maybe, she thinks, he’s trying to give her puppy eyes so that she would give in but somehow, it has no effect on her. Once you’ve seen Sam’s puppy eyes, you’ll instantly become immune to all the others.
“I’m sorry,” She apologizes, hoping she does sound sincere, even if she isn’t really sorry. “I’m just awfully busy right now.”
“Fine,” The guy huffs out in annoyance while he shows signs of giving up. But she catches a last speck of sparkle in his eyes and there’s an easy grin on his face as he reaches over and plugs the pen out from behind her ear where she’s left it when she took a break from reading and summarizing a book, and quickly scribbles his number down. He did it on top of her fucking notes! This is great, she thinks annoyed. If he wanted her to call him, this is definitely not the way to go.
He smirks at her before he leaves, even fucking winks, probably thinking he’s all charming but it just makes her skin crawl. “Call me.”
Yeah, no. Thanks, but no.
After watching the guy leaving - and she can’t even say that she likes to see him leave - she returns to her book, roving back to the paragraph which she was reading before she got interrupted by the most annoying dude ever, when she feels someone falling gracelessly into the seat next to her.
“What do you want?” She grumbles at the person, doesn’t even have to look up to know that it’s her friend, hence she’s allowed to sound a little more than a little annoyed.
“That was guy number, what, three, that you turned down? And only counting this week alone!” Sam exasperates next to her, his arms flailing in the air. “None of them good enough for you, yeah?” He teases and nudges his elbow against her arm.
“I’m not interested,” Y/N grouches.
There’s just no way she can explain her own affinity to the touchy subject. It’s also more the case that she doesn’t really know what she feels right now. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to go on dates. Maybe, she thinks, the reason is that she’s good like this. Not everything has to be about dating and love, she can be on her own and right now, everything’s perfectly fine. Her life is good.
Sam just shrugs, “You never are.”
“Well, can you blame me? Cole was a douche.” She hates to even have to bring up Cole in the first place but it seems legit to push that into the conversation. Cole really did her dirty and Sam knows that. Maybe that’s why she’s so reluctant to even want to go on dates again.
“Not everyone’s like Cole,”
“I’m just… ugh, I’m okay, alright?” She tries to convince Sam, cocking an eyebrow for good measure, “I don’t need to go out on dates. I have you and I have Jess, and I have-”
Y/N stops talking, and honestly, it’s only because she doesn’t know what to say next because Sam and Jess were just it. They are all she has and it’s enough. It’s just… also scary because of the fact that they are all she has. Her parents are gone, torn out of her life by a drunk driver who ran into them walking on the pavement on the way from the restaurant to their car, after having dined together on their twentieth wedding anniversary. They literally died side by side, her hand in his. If she wouldn’t know better and wouldn’t have lived through hell when it happened, she’d think it’s the most beautiful tragic love story. It isn’t a story, though. It’s reality, it’s her life.
Sam’s staring as if he’s still waiting for her to finish that sentence.
When she doesn’t fill the deafening silence, though, Sam sighs out audibly. His voice is barely a whisper and it doesn’t surprise her. They’re still in the library after all and they’ve probably been too loud before.
“And you have Dean.” The younger Winchester fills the rest of the sentence in for her, one end of his lips twitching in a way where he wants to grin but holding himself back.
“And I have Dean,” Y/N agrees, nodding her head in acceptance. Sam’s right, in a way she does have Dean back now, even though it doesn’t feel like it since he’s thousands of miles away on the other side of the globe.
Sam smiles upon hearing her accepting his addition without preamble. In fact, he smiles so brightly his dimples are showing. “I’m glad he’s back.”
His statement takes her by surprise. “You are?”
“Yeah,” He nods, “I can’t really show it, I mean, I’m still supposed to be hurt, right?”
Right. If there’s a flaw to the Winchester brothers, then the flaw is that they are both pretty stubborn, and hearing Sam saying that alone makes her want to cuff him over the head.
“I mean, you’re going in the right direction. Baby steps, right? Maybe one day you will tell him that you’re not as hurt as you are petty.” She says instead of cuffing him as she closes her book and begins to stuff all of her belongings into her backpack, feeling the need to go home and relax. Sam reminding her of Dean’s existence does things to her and honestly, she’d rather go home and send Dean an email than studying right now. “You’re going to be on the next Skype call, so that’s really already a good thing. And Dean’s super excited about it.”
“How is he?”
Her hand is still around a pen she picked up from the table when she answers, “I think he’s doing okay. He’s out on a mission right now. Should be back today or tomorrow, I don’t really know, stupid timezones.”
Standing up, she grabs her backpack and swings it over her shoulder when Sam mumbles, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“What?” She’s abruptly startled by it and frowns, “What are you sorry for?”
“For making you choose me over him.”
“What? No, Sam,” Y/N stumbles back into her seat, dropping the backpack on the floor. “You didn’t make me choose you over him. He and I were never what you and I were.”
And that’s not a lie. Sam was and still is her brother, her best friend, her confidant, her go-to. He’s still the only person who knows her so deeply it’s almost like they are the same person. He’s the one who can lift her up, making her see that she’s much more than she thought she’d ever been.
But once upon a time, while Sam was her brother, Dean was her brother too. He made sure that she could always come over, he gave her a key to the house, he stayed up with her on the couch when she couldn’t sleep in her own home and went over to theirs. He picked her up from the floor when she was a sobbing mess. He was just always there and he was her crutch that held her together for the longest time. He was just… Dean.
“He was your brother, too, you know?” Sam states. It’s not really a question, his voice is a little lower and he swallows before he goes on, “Remember you said once that while Dean had no choice but to love and take care of me, he chose to love and take care of you. You were drunk when you said that but I never forgot it. It’s true, you know?” He grins, all boyish and full of dimples, “When we were about twelve, he pretended to be annoyed with you coming over all the time. You know how Dean is with new people,”
“He hates them.” She couldn’t help but chuckle out softly.
“He hates them,” Sam nods, “But you managed to get under his skin and you took root. Sometimes, I think, he loved you more than he loved me.”
She can’t help but feel the warmth that creeps up to her cheeks, “That’s not true.”
“It’s true. As you said, he chose to love you. That’s the thing. He wasn’t stuck with you, but he chose to be. That’s love. And I don’t even say it because I’m jealous because I’m really not. I’m just saying that maybe now, if Dean could see that someone he loves wants him to come back, it’ll give him an incentive to do it.”
“He doesn’t love me like that. And frankly, I don’t love him like that either. I doubt I can change his mind but you know what I can do? I can be here for him whenever he needs me. That’s a start, right? You should try it too.”
Sam laughs as he shakes his head, as if he knows something she doesn’t. “Do you remember you used to have the biggest crush on him?”
“Did not,”
“Did too!”
Well, she doesn’t need to be reminded, thank you very much. Sam’s not wrong, though. She had all heart eyes for Dean and god, those teenage hormones were the worst. Like, she actively searched him from the age of sixteen, but Dean would have never done anything inappropriate because despite his dad telling him that he isn’t a good man, he truly is and everyone saw it but himself. She wouldn’t say the crush on Dean made a reappearance but she can feel herself getting all flustered and warm when she thinks of him. And who knows? Maybe those feelings were never truly gone.
Standing back up from the chair, she rolls her eyes dramatically and Sam laughs some more, still shaking his head. “No, I’m just saying that you’re two idiots.”
“Thanks, asshole,” Y/N says almost fondly.
Before she leaves, Sam catches her wrist with his hand, “I’m serious, Y/N. I’m sorry. I’m glad you two are talking again.”
There’s a buzzing sound out of her backpack and she lifts it from the floor to drop it onto the table to take her phone out. “Speaking of the devil,” She says when she sees the message and thumbs over her screen to open it.
Dean: Can I call you?
She looks at Sam who stares at her in anticipation. “Something’s off. He asks to call me. He never does that. Do you think something happened?”
Her heart starts to race and she’s about to panic. Why is she going to panic?
“Do you think something happened?” Sam asks when he, too, stands up to tower over her, stealing a peek at her screen.
“I-I d-don’t know,” She stammers, “I just have the feeling that something’s not right.”
“Only way to find out is if you let him call you, Y/N,” Sam says but it’s like white noise. All she hears is her own heart beating rapidly in her chest.
“Y-yeah,” She mumbles, her shaky fingers are typing in a reply, “Yeah, you’re right. Imma just speeds home now. I can’t take the call here. I’ll see you?” She knows that it’s probably not fair to Sam but he’s still working and she just can’t take the call here. She doesn’t know what she’d do if something happened to Dean and she’d rather avoid making a scene in the stupid library.
“Sure. Let me know what’s going on, yeah?” Sam’s concerned but she takes his hand, squeezes it for assurance.
“Of course,”
She pockets her phone back as soon as she sends out a reply to Dean to call her in ten minutes when she’s back in her apartment.
*
Her phone starts to buzz the second she turns her key in the lock and while she fishes it out from the back pocket of her jeans where she has tucked it in, it slips and almost drops to the floor. Hastily, Y/N presses the green button and clamps it between her shoulder and her cheek while she drops her backpack and takes off her jacket by the door.
“Dean?”
“Hi,” He says, his voice is somber. “I’m sorry for calling.”
Y/N makes her way to her room, toes off her shoes before she gets into her bed. She doesn’t know why but it sounds like this will be a conversation where she needs to be in bed for and not like the mind-in-the-gutter-activity kind of way.
“It’s okay, Dean. You have nothing to be sorry for,” She assures him, lifting her comforter and crawls underneath it, carving out space on her unmade bed and laying her head onto the pillow.
“I just…” Dean pauses to exhale, “I need to talk to someone.”
“You have me,”
There’s another exhale on the other end, a longer, heavier one. One she thinks sounds more like relief.
“Yeah,” He agrees. “Yeah, I have you.”
She ignores the buzz in her head, ignores the rush of blood to her face at the intimacy and closeness that those words make her feel. “Is something wrong?”
Dean exhales loudly once more. It sounds like he tries to breathe properly, tries to ground himself with every inhale and exhale. After a long minute of hearing him breathe, he speaks, “I just came back. The mission,”
Y/N listens. She doesn’t interrupt him.
“It went sideways. We were being shot at, ducked behind a fence, and shot back. And… and, and… I had Jack next to me,”
There’s another pause that he needs to recover from.
“I’m still here. I’m listening.” She whispers. Because she is.
He clears his throat before going on in an attempt to hide the cracking of his voice, “There’s… you know, there’s nothing I could have done. Jack was next to me, shooting at the enemies and the next thing I know…” Another sharp intake of breath, “The next thing I know, he was on the ground.”
She hears him rubbing his hand over his face, followed by a sniff. “Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s not it,” It sounds almost like he’s chuckling, probably out of shock, out of anger, of fear. “People get shot here all the time, Y/N. That’s not what got me like this,”
“Okay,”
“I’m not going into details because I want to spare them from you. Nobody should picture it. Hell, I wish I could forget what I saw.”
There’s another long pause and she doesn’t dare to look at the clock to see that this call might have to end soon. Surely, they do have time limits on satellite calls. She just wants him to go on, wants him to unload the burden on her. She wants to be his crutch now, wants to be able to take his pain if she can.
“He… Jack. He pleaded with me. He was in so much pain he begged me, Y/N,” Dean’s voice breaks and it physically pains her hearing it.
“Oh, no.”
Dean doesn’t even have to say what Jack pleaded for him to do. She just knows.
“Yeah,” It comes out almost a snort, almost as if Dean brushes it off like it’s a bad dream, “I- shit, I didn’t- I couldn’t-, not only because it’s illegal. I wanted to, you know? I had my pistol drawn and knelt down beside him, but I just… I couldn’t,”
“Dean,” She whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“I failed.”
“Dean-”
“It’s true. It should have been me.”
“Don’t-”
“He was just a kid. He wasn’t even legal to drink yet. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“No, you’re right,” She agrees, because yes, it shouldn’t have happened because they shouldn’t have to be out there in the first place. “Life’s not fair.”
“It isn’t. I’m sorry,” He mumbles softly, and adds, “for ruining your evening.”
“Don’t say that. If anything, you made it better. It’s good to hear your voice, Dean.” It’s true. It’s good. It is soothing, like smooth honey. It lets her know that Dean’s still here. That he’s still standing, still breathing, still alive. And she knows, she knows she should show more sympathy towards death in Dean’s unit but she’s just so fucking relieved that Dean’s still here. Relieved that he’s able to live longer, that he might be able to come back. It’s a relief to know that maybe she’ll be able to see him smile at her in person.
“I miss you.” He releases the words with another exhale.
Y/N doesn’t really know where this comes from but Dean’s mind is probably all over the place after having to witness one of his friends die on the battlefield, so she answers him equally truthfully, “I miss you, too.”
Dean clicks his tongue before there’s another short pause, “Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything,”
“Stay on the phone with me a little longer? I know I shouldn’t probably hog the phone but honestly, I couldn’t give a shit right now.”
If Dean needs it, she’ll stay on the phone until early morning, papers and assignments be damned. She wishes she could do more for him, but since she can’t, she’ll give him that. “Of course,”
“Tell me about your day,” There’s a slight huff of breath before he speaks, and she can just imagine him smiling. She wishes they would skype so she could see him, so she could read every twitch of the muscle in his face, so she could see the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. When she pauses too long, Dean speaks again, “I want to know everything.”
She knows that him wanting her to tell the details about her day is because he wants to hear some normalcy. He wants to hear about a life he quit upon, about a chance he never took because quite frankly, it’s the polar opposite of what he’s going through on a daily basis.
And if Dean wants to hear about how she spilled coffee over her textbook this morning, or how she almost peed her pants because she drank too much coffee and was stuck in a heated lecture where they discussed something important, or how she really didn’t like that there are so many different flavors she has to mix into her customer’s coffees at work. If he wants to hear about her boring day, then she’s willing to give him what he needs.
Y/N inhales and starts, “I woke up this morning,”
“In my shirt?”
She bites back a grin, because she’s beyond denying it now since Dean’s seen her in her favorite shirts to sleep in - twice already. And from the look he gave her, she picked up on the fact that those were his and not Sam’s, so she nods, “In your shirt…”
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