Chapter Text
“Dean, you’re like, forty! As if she would wanna date you-”
“Shut up, dude! I’m not that old - and anyway, you’re literally four years younger than me!”
“Exactly - four years younger!” Sam points out, standing up as if he had just won a court case. He opens his mouth to continue, but freezes when he hears your footsteps echoing down the hallway. “Shut up, she’s coming.”
Not five seconds later you walk into the library, a smile on your face that falls at the sight of the two tense Winchester brothers. They were both breathing heavily, as if they’d had a shouting match, and you glance about the room before asking with a nervous laugh, “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all.” Dean says quickly, narrowing his eyes at Sam, who had thrown a glare his way.
“Nope. Absolutely nothing.” Sam confirms, sitting back down. You nod slowly, not entirely convinced, before taking your own seat beside Sam, who smirks victoriously at Dean. Dean glares, but Sam only leans closer to you, using the excuse of curiosity. “What’s that you’ve got there, Y/N?” He asks, and Dean stretches his neck to try and get a better look.
“Oh, I think I’ve found us a case.” You explain, waving the newspaper in the air before dropping it onto the table. “Three mysterious deaths, all within five minutes from each other, throats completely ripped out.”
“So, a vamp?” Dean pitches in before Sam has a chance to ask the same thing, and Dean tosses Sam a smirk of his own before turning his attention back to you.
You take a second to respond, glancing between Sam and Dean before you do so. “That’s what I thought, but then I read further on; the hearts were missing, as well as the intestines and all of the fingers - they left the thumbs.”
“Okay … Werewolf with a thing for finger-foods and sausages?”
“Intestines aren’t like sausages, Dean.” Sam mutters childishly, and Dean narrows his eyes.
“They kind of are like sausages, Sam. You know, like a string of sausages, except they haven’t been twisted into sausages yet.”
“Not really. Sausages are filled with meat-”
“There’s plenty of meat in the intestines already-”
“Stop with this, this …“ You spit out the first word you can think of, which just so happens to be- “Dickery!”
Silence takes over the three of you, Sam and Dean’s heads twisting around simultaneously to stare at you in bewilderment. Your cheeks slowly fill with color. Why did I just shout ‘dickery’? Of all the damn words I could have used, I chose ‘dickery’ …
“Um …” Dean starts, still looking perplexed over your word choice.
The silence stretches on, before Sam breaks it by letting out a spluttering laugh, throwing his head back. “Okay, okay, we’ll stop with the-” He bursts out laughing before he can finish his sentence, and he struggles to spit out the last word between chuckles. “The di-dickery!”
You groan quietly, throwing your head back as you allow the mortification to swallow you up. Sam throws his arm over your shoulder once he was only letting out the occasional giggle, and pulls you close to place an endearing kiss on your temple. Flushing, you bury your face into his shoulder, and he rubs a calming hand on your shoulder and down your back until you were only half as embarrassed as you initially were.
Meanwhile Sam was smirking over at his brother, who glared back and mouthed, ‘this isn’t over!’, to which Sam responded with, ‘bring it!’, and so the competition to win your heart began.