Summary: You had a fling with Dean Winchester fifteen years ago. Now he wants back into your life but, like all things, it’s complicated.
Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, OMC Dylan
Word Count: 3468
Warnings: smut (unprotected sex), fluff, ANGST (canon typical violence, death)
A/N: This is part two. MAJOR angst ahead. I was anxious to attempt this one as it’s my first time writing angst.
Dean’s POV
I’m looking down at Y/N, her eyes and voice deadly serious as she touches my face. I can’t help it; I lean into her hand as she speaks. I’m shocked as the unbelievable words fall from her mouth.
I have a son?
—-
Dean moves towards the house.
“No,” you put yourself in his path. “He has no idea about you. All he knows is that I was on my own when I had him.”
Dean looks down at you with eyes full of sorrow and a glimmer of hope, but he says nothing.
“You weren’t in the picture and it wasn’t like I could call you.”
“I know,” Dean says finding his voice.
Dean’s gaze is fixed on the porch. On your son. On his son. After a long pause, he looks down at you.
“Can I meet him?”
“Yes, but not tonight. I have to talk to him about it first. Then you can, ok?”
“OK.”
That night you tell Dylan about his father. The tears and anger you’re expecting. You still aren’t sure how Dylan is processing the revelation that he’s going to meet his father. His initial anger quickly becomes curiosity; he has so many questions but you think it best to let Dean answer them. The next day you call Dean inviting him over for dinner. At five your doorbell rings and when you open the door there he stands with flowers in his hands and a nervous smile on his face.
“Hey, Dean c’mon in,” you say opening the door wide.
“Thanks, sweetheart, these are for you,” he dips down kissing your cheek before handing you the flowers.
You smile when you realize there are two bouquets; the one from the night before and a new bunch, all of them tulips, your favorite flower.
Dylan is standing in the living room when you and Dean walk in.
“Dylan, I’d like you to meet Dean. Dean this is my son Dylan.”
“Hey Dylan,” Dean steps forward offering his hand.
“Hey,” Dylan says apprehensively shaking Dean’s offered hand.
An awkward silence follows before Dean and Dylan both shove their hands in their pockets at the same time. You smile watching them. Dylan’s not to his full height yet, but he looks very much like Dean. Same eyes and lips though his nose is yours. You wonder if Dean feels like he’s looking into a window to the past.
“So,” Dean starts. “How ‘bout that football, huh?”
“Dylan’s more into cars, aren’t you sweetie?”
“Mom, don’t call me sweetie” Dylan grumbles.
“Sure thing, sweetie,” you wink at your son before carrying the flowers to the kitchen.
Dean’s POV
I’m finding it hard not to stare at Dylan. It’s like looking into a mirror, a possible past if I’d grown up with a mom in a normal environment. The awkward yet easy way Dylan moves stings my heart.
“You like cars?” I ask sitting down on the couch.
“Yeah, have you seen the Fast and the Furious?” Dylan asks taking the spot next to me.
“The what?”
“The movie, Fast and Furious, all those cars racing and doing crazy tricks. That movie’s cool!”
I smile at Dylan’s enthusiasm.
“Is that the one with all the street racers? I’m more of an American muscle car guy…”
“They have that too, it was called a… Charger?”
“Dodge Charger? Not a bad car. Maybe your mom will let me take you out in Baby sometimes.”
“Baby?” Dylan asks confusion crossing his face.
“She’s a ’67 Impala and she’s a beauty.”
“That’d be cool, Dean. Thanks!”
I smile wide as the previous six weeks become an ever distant memory.
“Ok, guys, dinner’s on!” Y/N calls from the kitchen.
—-
You’re happy that your hope the boys would hit it off was not too audacious. Throughout dinner, Dylan barrages Dean with questions. You interrupt a few times to give Dean a break but he graciously allows the questions to continue. You watch Dean smiling and laughing like he did when you first met; the pain and sadness from before growing less and less noticeable. After dinner, you’re washing the dishes while the boys talk in the living room when Dean comes into the kitchen sliding up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist. His lips are at your ear sending waves of pleasure down your spine.
“I never thought I’d be jealous of a sink full of dishes,” he whispers.
He kisses your ear trailing down your neck as he slides his hands under your shirt. You stop washing before leaning into him, his erection pressing against you.
“Hey, Mom, could I show Dean my room?” Dylan asks walking into the kitchen.
Dean jumps away from you rubbing the back of his neck and keeping his gaze down.
“Sure kiddo” you collect yourself. “Just cool it with all the questions,” you smile.
“Ok, c’mon Dean,” Dylan says walking towards the stairs.
“Then you’ve got to get ready for bed, you’ve got school tomorrow,” you call.
“He’s going to bed soon?” Dean looks back at you as he follows Dylan.
“Mmm, hmm.”
“Is it ok if I stick around, you know after?”
“Dean Winchester what are you implying?” you smirk at him.
“You’ll see, sweetheart,” he says licking his full lips and raising an eyebrow.
You watch as he walks toward the stairs appreciating his gait as he goes.
Later that night you and Dean slip into the guest room on the main floor. Clothes flying off you barely make it through the door before closing it behind you. Dean walks back till his legs bump the bed and he plops down. You climb on top straddling him before pulling him in for another kiss. Your tongues dance as you grind into him and he lets out a low growl.
“Shh,” you say breaking the kiss. “We have to be quiet,” you whisper.
Dean captures your lips again removing your bra, his rough hands kneading your breasts. You moan as he sucks your nipple into his mouth leaving it with his tongue.
“Shh, Y/N, you have to be quiet,” Dean says before nipping your breast.
The slickness between your thighs grows as your need for him becomes almost unbearable. You stand, quickly removing your jeans and panties before pulling Dean up and removing his. You straddle him again, your wanting core hovering over his hard cock, feeling like you might die from need. You grind against him as your lips find each other again. Lining him up you slowly sink down onto him; biting his lip to keep your moans from ripping out of you. When he’s fully seated inside, Dean lets out a hiss that you smother with your mouth. You lift up, pausing before coming down on him again. You continue moving up and down his cock exquisitely filling you each time. Dean buries his face in your breasts to keep from making too much noise as you increase your pace. He looks up at you with lust-blown eyes.
“Hold on, sweetheart, we’re gonna move,” he whispers as you wrap your legs around his waist.
Gripping your waist with one hand and your thigh with the other Dean rolls sliding you back so you’re underneath him. He dips down to kiss you before pulling your thigh over his hip and burying himself in you again, a moan escaping your lips before you can choke it back. He clasps your hand in his, moving with urgency, his cock dragging against your walls as he rolls his hips. Over and over he pushes into you sending waves of pleasure through your body. Soon the coil inside you tightens as Dean increases his pace. He doesn’t have to ask, he knows you’re close from the way your thrusts are meeting his. He slams into you faster and faster and then you’re over the edge coming around him. He covers your mouth with his swallowing your moans as he kisses you deeply before his thrusts grow erratic and he’s coming buried inside you.
He pulls you close as the waves of pleasure course through your body. He rolls off of you as you move to your side. You’re facing each other looking into each other’s eyes as he brushes your hair back from your face. For a moment you sit enjoying the easy silence between you, but your mind nags you with the unknown future.
“So, how are we going to do this?” you ask scared to hear the answer.
“I don’t know,” Dean says gently. “This is a whole new game, sweetheart.”
“We’ll happily let you into our lives, Dean if that’s what you want.”
“I do…” Dean trails off.
“But.”
“But my life is complicated and not entirely safe. And I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Are you ready to tell me about it?”
Dean doesn’t answer.
“When you’re ready,” you say stroking his cheek. “I’ll be here ready to listen. Whatever it is.”
“For now, maybe I can come once a month to be with you and Dylan. We’ll see how it goes.”
“I can live with that.”
Dean pulls you into him nuzzling your neck and you cuddle together before he heads back to the motel.
Dean’s POV
When I get back to Lebanon I tell Sam the whole story and every month I make the drive from Kansas to Maine to stay with Y/N and Dylan for a week. The second month I show up Dylan is staying at a friend’s house. Y/N is waiting for something she picked up at Victoria’s Secret. I see her as soon as I walk through the door dropping my bag on the floor, a coy smirk playing at her lips.
“Last time we had to be so quiet with Dylan in the house,” she stands revealing the lacy lingerie. “He’s not here right now…”
I cross the room in a few strides my lips crashing into hers with a growl as she melds to me. In the next moment, I’m scooping her up before carrying her up the stairs as she squeals in delight.
The following month Sam comes with me to visit. It’s a packed and happy house. Dylan peppers Sam with questions much like he did when he first met me. I’m glad that Dylan and Y/N like him immediately.
Three months later, after having breakfast with Y/N, Dylan and I head for the door.
“You guys have fun,” Y/N calls as we jog down the front walk.
Car doors squeaking we climb into the Impala.
“Buckle up, kiddo,” I say starting the engine.
The engine rumbles to life as loud rock music blares from the speakers before I turn the radio down.
“Who’s this?” Dylan asks.
“Who’s this?“ I ask incredulously. This is Led Zeppelin. What kind of music is your mom playing for you anyway?”
Dylan shrugs as I turn the radio back up.
“Sit back and enjoy,” I say before backing down the driveway.
A little while later I park in an empty church parking lot.
“Ok, what do you know about cars, Dylan?”
“Gas makes it go, brake makes it stop, the wheel makes it turn?”
“That’s it? Come on,” I say opening the door and climbing out.
Dylan follows me as I open the hood. For the next thirty minutes, I explain the basics of the combustion engine.
“Alright, now that you know how it works, let’s see if you can drive it.”
“Ok,” Dylan says looking down.
“Don’t be nervous Dylan, I’ll be right next to you and look,” I gesture around the parking lot, “you’ve got plenty of space.”
“Ok,” Dylan says more confidently.
“That’s my boy,” I said clapping him on the back.
It’s my first time referring to Dylan as mine and my heart lifts when I notice redness rising to his face.
“C’mon,” I say let the moment pass.
I gesture for Dylan to climb into the driver’s seat before climbing in on the passenger side.
—-
The following month Dean shows up with a record player and a stack of records.
“So, you can listen to some real music,” Dean smiles handing them to Dylan.
“Thanks, Dean,” Dylan takes them rushing up to his room.
“Hey, I have good taste in music,” you say feigning offense.
“Sure, sweetheart,” Dean smirks before pulling you in for a kiss.
You break away putting your forehead against his and looking into his green eyes.
“Dean, you mind hanging out with Dylan while I run to the bar for a bit?”
“Sure thing, princess,” Dean says before kissing you again.
It deepens as he pulls you closer and you move into him a growl escaping his lips. Putting your hands to the sides of his face you pull back
“Ok, cowboy, maybe you guys can come by in a few hours and we can go have dinner?”
“Mmm, and then we pick up where we left off?”
You smile smacking him on the ass.
“Definitely.”
Dean raises his eyebrows watching you leave.
You’re just finishing up at the bar, which is mostly empty as it’s the lull before happy hour begins when suddenly a man walks in waving a gun around yelling profanities. You motion to your employees to hide slowly making your way around the counter.
“Sir, please calm down.”
He doesn’t seem to notice you as he speaks incoherently gesturing around the bar.
“Sir, please put the gun down.”
Your heart is racing as you move a little closer. He’s about six feet away from you when he suddenly notices you.
“Sir-“
You don’t get any more words out before the bullet rips through the right side of your chest. You see Dean coming through the doorway as you fall to the floor. You hear a commotion; a smack and a grunt and it feels like someone is landing near you. Suddenly Dean is lifting you into his lap.
“Y/N? Call an ambulance!” his green eyes are looking into yours. “Y/N stay with me, you’re gonna be ok. You hear me. Son of a bitch! No!”
White-hot pain spreads from your chest seeming to invade every cell of your body. Your eyelids flutter and it’s difficult to keep them open.
“Y/N?”
“Mom?!”
You feel Dylan at your side your eyes snap open and you see your son next to his father, both of them looking at you with their perfect green eyes.
“Dad, what happened?”
Joy sweeps through you blending into the pain as you hear your son call Dean, Dad, for the first time.
“She’s gonna be ok, Dylan. Everything’s going to be ok.”
“Mom?”
“I’m here sweetie, I’m here,” your voice cracks as a ripple of pain shoots through you.
The parts of your body you can still feel are cold. Sirens wail in the distance as your consciousness ebbs away. Gripping Dean’s shoulder you force your eyes open.
“Take care of him. Take care of our son, Dean.”
Your eyes close once more and the last thing you feel is Dean pulling you to his chest and Dylan hugging your side.
Dean’s POV
A week after Y/N was shot I’m packing the Impala with Dylan’s things. Sam is already back at the bunker having left right after the funeral. The funeral was small since Y/N wanted to be cremated. I pick up the urn choking back the pain and willing my tears to wait till I’m alone. Dylan is leaning against the car staring blankly at the ground. Understandably the boy isn’t speaking much.
“You sure you don’t want to spread her ashes over on the coast kiddo?”
Dylan slowly pulls his gaze up from the ground finally settling his eyes on me.
“No, Mom always said,” Dylan speaks in barely a whisper. “That I could choose what to do with her ashes and I want them to be with me,” Dylan chokes back a sob. “I want her to be with me,” he can’t hold back the tears any longer. “Why? Why did she die?”
My heart shatters again as I helplessly watch my son’s pain roll down his face. I cross over to him wrapping my arms around him.
“Ok, Dylan, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Why is she gone?” Dylan sobs into my chest.
“I can’t answer that,” I say unable to hold back the silent tears sliding down my cheeks. “But, it’ll be ok, you’ve got me, I’m here for you. I’m your father and I’ll always be here.”
“Dad,” Dylan says as the sobs recede. “What do we do now?”
I have no good answer for that, but I’m hoping by the time we reach Kansas I’ll know what to do. When we arrive Sam is there waiting for us.
“Hey, Dylan, welcome home,” Sam says pulling him into a hug.
“Thanks, Sam,” Dylan says but there’s no joy in his voice.
“Let me show you to your room, kiddo,” I say leading Dylan down the hall.
One month after Y/N was killed Sam and Dylan are sitting in the library going over Dylan’s homework assignments for the day. Sam is homeschooling Dylan until the new school year begins.
“Make sure you stay on top of this,” Sam says. “If you want to attend Lebanon High School as a junior next year you’re going to need to demonstrate proficiency in all of these subjects.”
“I know,” Dylan sighs. “I just wish I could go with you guys.”
“If you feel that way after college then we can talk,” I say walking into the library.
One year after Y/N was killed I wake up early and run down to the grocery store. I buy three bouquets of tulips and head back to the bunker. I place one bouquet in the kitchen and one in the library before sneaking into Dylan’s room and leaving one there. An hour later Dylan shuffles out from his room.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning, thanks for getting the flowers, Dad. It was nice to wake up to a reminder of Mom.”
“What’d you say we go do something that she would’ve liked to do to celebrate her today?”
“That’d be great, maybe we could drive to Waconda Lake? Mom always liked being by the water.”
“I’ll let Sammy know. Why don’t you hop in the shower?”
“Ok.”
An hour later we’re quietly sitting by the lake watching fisherman and birds. Neither one of us feels the need to speak, the silence a welcome respite.
“She would’ve loved this lake,” Dylan says finally breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I was thinking, when you’re ready if ever, we could spread your mom’s ashes here, that way she’d still be close by.”
A year and a half after Y/N was killed Dylan is sitting on a stool in the kitchen and I’m treating a cut over his eye.
“And how did this guy get a hit in?”
“I may have been winking at his girlfriend.”
I press the alcohol to the cut.
“Ow,” Dylan hisses.
“Never let your guard down kiddo,” I look at him sternly until he looks up at me.
“I know, I know,” he says looking back down.
“Was it worth it?”
“Well, she’s going out with me on Friday.”
“That’s my boy,” I clap him on the back laughing.
Two years after Y/N was killed Sam and I sit in plastic chairs on the football field under the blazing sun waiting for Dylan’s name to be called.
“Dylan Y/L/N-Winchester,” the principal calls.
Dylan walks up in his cap and gown with a huge smile on his face. Sam and I clap and whistle as he accepts his diploma. After the ceremony, we stand in the field taking pictures.
“Your mom would be really proud of you Dylan and I’m proud of you too,” I pull him in for a hug as tears sting my eyes.
“Thanks, Dad,” Dylan hugs me back a sad smile on his face.
“Congratulations Dylan,” Sam breaks in grabbing Dylan for a hug.
“Let’s go,” I motion towards the Impala. “We need to get packing if we're gonna leave tomorrow.”
“We’re really going for a road trip, Dad?”
“We really are. You need to see more of the country before you head to Hastings in the fall.”
“Are you sure you and Sam can take the summer off?”
“It’s one summer kiddo, how many times is my son gonna graduate from high school?”
“Let’s go,” Sam says.
“Ok, but we’ve got to make one stop tomorrow,” Dylan says by the car door.
“Where?” I ask opening the driver’s door.
“Waconda Lake.”
I nod, while Sam looks a little confused. I give him a quick shake of my head letting him know I’ll explain later.
“You got it, son,” I say climbing into the Impala.
And the three of us head home.
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