Chapter Text
THEN
After fifteen years on the road, Sam and Dean’s contract was finally up. They had the option to retire from The Family Business and they had no idea what to do with themselves.
The day of, Sam peered at his brother across the motel room they were currently staying. “Guess what today is,” he said flatly.
“What day?” Dean mumbled back, all his attention on the pistol he was cleaning.
“June 1st.”
Dean paused. “You don’t say,” was the grumbled reply.
“June 1st, fifteen years to the day,” Sam stated more firmly.
Dean met his brother's eyes. Sam's face was full urgency. June 1st meant something to both of them, of the agreement they made and intended to uphold. But Dean couldn't believe it came so soon. He spoke slowly with a half-cocked grin. “So, you wanna finish this job? Or we can ditch and go Miami, pick up some beach babes.”
Sam looked away. They both knew they were going to finish the job. You didn't become the best in the Business by leaving things half done. Sam didn’t need to reply. On the bed in front of him, six more guns lay. Sam picked up one of the rifles and began to strip it.
For an entire year after that, they continued the same routine as the fifteen before: Wait for the call, find the mark, take the mark out, hide the body and destroy all evidence, wait for the call, find the mark…
Then, around May, Sam was the first one to look his brother in the eye and earnestly say, “I’m tired. I want out.” While the words came out his mouth, he looked much older than his 31 years. Dean hated how he wore the job on his face sometimes.
So Dean just nodded. He ordered them a couple of pizzas, took the Impala out to pick up a 12 pack of beer and a bottle of whiskey. The brothers celebrated the night as their last as hitmen, their last as partners. They kept conversation light, reflecting on their fondest memories without acknowledging what tomorrow would bring. They had talked about this moment before. They knew what was going to happen next.
As Dean woke up with a killer hangover, he looked at the other queen Sam had only just occupied the night before. It was neatly made. Next to it, Sam’s duffle bags were gone. It was like he was never there to begin with. Dean closed his eyes tight and ignored the sting of tears behind his lids. The person he’d spent almost every waking moment with since he could even remember was not going to come back and he knew it. Dean wasn’t even sure when he’d hear from him again. He felt lost. He stayed in bed all day, just staring across at the empty queen.
NOW
Dean stayed in the town Sam left him in for another week. The room was already paid for and he had no clue what he wanted to do. It didn’t help that Bobby, their Assigner in The Family, kept calling him every day, asking where Dean wanted him to set up an apartment. How many times can he say, “I don’t fucking know?”
His first instinct was to ask where Sam decided to go, but he knew he shouldn’t. They had promised each other five years ago that once they were out, they’d stay apart, at least for a while. This was to give each other space to breathe, room to branch out. That meant no phone calls, no visits, and certainly no moving down the street from Sam. No matter how much Dean wanted to.
“It’s not healthy for any two people to spend this much time together,” Sam had explained. “Sooner or later, we’ll start hating each other.”
Dean didn’t know if that were true. Even when he was at his angriest with Sam, he never came close to hating him. But it was what Sammy wanted.
So Dean made his rounds in that same damn town. After he’d bedded many faceless women, Dean packed up his belongings and started driving north. He had no idea where he was going. It was springtime, making the air around him feel fresh and new, but Dean felt old and run down. Worst of all, he was so, so lost. For as long as he could remember, someone always gave him orders. First, from his dad and very shortly after, from The Family. And there was always Sam, who never gave him orders, but gave him purpose just the same. Dean didn’t know how to live for himself. He didn’t know how to settle down. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was good at besides tracking and killing people. The irony was not lost on him. He’d resented The Family Business since he joined up, and now, it was the only thing he felt himself doing.
After two days of driving, Dean found himself in Montana close to the border of Canada. He briefly considered crossing it but realized he couldn’t use his fake passport anymore and had yet to acquire one with his new name, Dean Smith. But to get that, he’d have to talk to Bobby, and he stopped answering the older man's calls.
He passed a sign that read Columbia Falls and decided that was as good a place as any to call it a night. It was getting late, around 10:30, and he’d been driving for 13 hours. He pulled into the nearest hotel he could find, parked his car, and walked into the lobby.
“One room, if you got one,” he requested at the counter. The receptionist was young, probably about 22, pretty enough, and looking bored.
“Yeah, we got one,” she said, snapping her gum, smiling up at Dean. “But we only have two queens, no kings left. But hey, you kind of get a deal because two queens is cheaper than a king room.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Okay. I just need a credit card to keep on file. It’ll be $125 for the night and your card will also be charged a $75 deposit that will be returned to your account when you check out as long as nothing in your room has been damaged."
Fuck. All of Dean’s old credit cards didn’t work anymore. “Can’t I just use cash?” he asked her. He remembered why he and Sam always stayed in motels. Motel owners don’t give a fuck about deposits.
She blinked and paused a moment. “Well, it’s policy that we take a card so we can withdraw a deposit. Do you have a debit card, maybe?”
He held back a sigh. He leaned on the counter with his right arm and looked the receptionist in the eye, letting a smirk take over his lips. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Doreen,” she replied, smirking back, point to her name tag on her chest.
“Listen, Doreen,” he drawled, “To tell you the truth, I kind of lost my wallet yesterday, and I’ve been playing catch up trying to get all my stuff together. I’m here for work and I’m supposed to meet with a client tomorrow. Do you think you could help me out?” He winked. She slightly blushed.
They young blonde hmm’d and paused. “Okay,” she finally said, her voice a perky squeak. “I can put it under my card, but you gotta give me $250.”
“You got it. And how about I take you out for a drink tomorrow after my meeting? I haven't been here before, don't know many people,” he tried, figuring scoring a date with a beautiful young woman was better than coming back to a large, empty king sized bed.
Her face colored again, far more than before. “I don’t usually go out for drinks with strange, older men,” she jested.
“Hey, I’m not all that strange,” Dean said with a wink.
“Well.. okay. Yeah, I’m down. I get off of work at 8 P.M tomorrow, so I’ll meet you here at 9? So I can get ready and stuff.” Yes. Victory.
“You still gotta give me $250, though.”
“Oh. Right.” He slipped her the bills and after she checked him in, she handed him his room key.
“Hey!” she shouted as Dean walked away. He turned and saw her standing behind the desk. “You didn’t tell me your name.”
Dean laughed. Of course he did. He was barely thinking these days. “It’s Dean, Dean Win - Dean Smith. Goodnight, Doreen.”
“Goodnight, Dean.”
As soon as he walked into the room, he locked away his pistol, then dropped his bags and fell onto the bed closest to the door. He flicked on the TV and watched the last hour of Terminator, which was playing on TBS. He turned it off and lay down to go to sleep, watching the empty bed next to him until he drifted off.
He spent the day doing absolutely fucking nothing. He put on a suit around 1:00 to pretend like he was going to a meeting to keep up with the lie he told Doreen, who was working at the counter this afternoon. He stopped by her before going and said, “Can’t wait for tonight, honey.”
She giggled a little and smiled up at him. “Yeah, I bet you can't,” she murmured.
“And you can?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Of course I'm excited. It’ll definitely be interesting.”
“9:00?” he grinned.
“9:00, sharp.”
Dean nodded and left. He drove around the town in his Impala, gaining as much info he could. He’d never been this far north in Montana and was completely unfamiliar with the area. He found a diner to have lunch at, took note of a few bars, and eventually ended up at the library.
Libraries are one of the few constant fixtures in his life. He and Sam spent so many hours in them, researching hits and their families; looking into towns, laws, and gangs - though finding information about gangs was usually best left on the streets. He didn’t know why he came here. It wasn’t a particularly large library, which made sense because Columbia Falls isn’t a particularly large town. It was a single-story, brick building, with a large, colorful children’s section immediately to the right as soon as he walked in. He walked deeper into the building, finding the librarian’s station.
“Hello,” greeted the old woman behind the counter. “How can I help you, young man?”
“Uh.” Dean had no purpose for being here. “Just browsing.”
“Let me know if you need help finding something, okay?”
“Thank you.” He paused. “Actually, can you tell me where I can find books about classic cars? Like, maintenance and stuff.”
The woman hummed softly. “That should be… I believe we have a couple like that. Follow me,” she nodded.
She took him down the stairs into the basement of the building where Dean assumed most of the non-fiction books were kept. It smelled of old books down here, a smell that made Dean immediately think: Sam.
Only a few seconds later, the librarian stopped. “Let’s see.. Ah! Here you go. These two shelves at the top,” she indicated, pointing above them. The shelves were quite high, tall enough that Dean couldn’t reach them.
“I guess these books don't see the light of day very often, huh?” joked Dean.
The woman laughed. “No, not really. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” She turned to return to her post.
Dean pulled a step-stool over and climbed up so he could see. There weren’t many books about cars here, maybe fifteen total. Car Maintenance for Dummies, read one title. History of Classic Cars of the 70's , read another.
In any case, he had time to kill, so he picked up Engine Do’s and Don’ts, found a nearby chair, and read for a couple of hours. Dean liked books. Not in the nerdy way that Sam did, but if he wanted to learn something, he would rather pick up a book than surf the web. Something about holding the pages in his hands made it feel more real, more obtainable.
Before he left, he spoke to the librarian about finding him some works specific to Impalas, or at least about Chevy in the 1960’s.
She assured, “For a handsome young man like you, absolutely. I’ll put some feelers out and order anything I find. Why don’t you leave your number, so I can call you if I find something?”
Dean was reluctant to give out his cell, which he was supposed to have ditched over a week ago, but since it was the only sure way that Sam could get in touch with him, he kept it anyway. So he gave her the hotel’s number instead. She raised an eyebrow at it, but didn’t say anything else.
He went back to the hotel, took a nap, watched TV, felt like the laziest, most boring person to ever walk this earth, and waited until 9:00. At least the end of this shit day was going end with him and a 22-year-old.
***
It was 9:15. Dean was in the lobby watching the baseball game on TV in the sitting area when Doreen finally walked in.
“Oh, hey, sorry I’m late. I walked here so I didn’t have to drive,” she greeted when she saw him.
Dean felt totally overdressed. While he was wearing a flannel, dark jeans, and his nice boots, she was wearing a David Bowie t-shirt and distressed jeans.
“Not a problem, I can drive us there. I saw a couple of places in town we could hit,” he responded.
“Actually, I already had somewhere in mind. We can walk from here, it’s not far at all.”
“Oh. Okay.” Damn. He loved to show off his car to girls, but he figured he could charm her with his winning personality.
“It’s my sister’s bar,” Doreen explained on the walk over. The pair strolled down the sidewalk, Doreen on the inside, Dean on the roadside. Even though it was spring, the nights in Montana were still a little chilly. Doreen should be cold, he figured, but he couldn’t even see a goosebump on her arm.
“That’s cool, owning a bar,” Dean chatted.
“Uh, she doesn’t own it, but she’s like, the head bartender. The general manager, I guess. It’s a cool place. So where are you from, Dean Smith?” she asked.
“Kansas,” he replied. “But I haven’t lived there for a long time.”
“Oh, so where do you live now? Close by?”
Dean gave her the usual answer, the one he'd been repeating for sixteen years worth of dates: “Well, I travel a lot of work, so I guess I don’t really live anywhere. It’s cool though, I kind of like it. It’s like I’m a nomad.” Dean paused, then surprised himself by admitting, "But I'm thinking about putting down some roots soon. Been on the road a long time."
Doreen smiled mournfully. “Yeah, I bet. I gotta say, there’s nothing like coming home after a long day’s work, you know?”
No, I don’t know, actually. “Yeah, I get what you mean. How about you? Have you lived here for long?”
“Since birth. My parents moved here after my sister was born, then I came a while after. They say I wasn’t a mistake, but honestly, who has kids 8 years apart on purpose?”
“I can’t think of why anyone would consider a beauty like you a mistake,” Dean flirted, trying to map the shape of her breasts through her shirt.
She looked him in the eye and stopped short. “You’re a charming fucker, aren’t you?”
“Guilty.”
She laughed, then said, “Anyway, we’re here.” Doreen motioned to the door to her right. It was a long brick building the middle of town filled with a couple of shops, the bar in the middle. The sign above the door read O'Malley's. “If you’re hungry, they have food here, too.”
Dean opened the door to let Doreen through first. She laughed at him again and walked in.
“Such a gentleman,” she commented. Dean smiled in response.
The bar was filled with patrons, but the high-top tables behind it were mostly empty. Doreen beelined to one closer to the counter. “This okay?” she wondered.
“Yeah, fine. What do you wanna drink? I’ll get ‘em for us,” Dean grinned.
“Oh, just a Bud Light for now. Maybe I’ll switch to tequila later, who knows.”
“Bud Light?” Dean laughed. “Do you want me to just get you a water, instead? They’re basically the same thing, and water’s free.”
She giggled back. “Cheeky, too. I love it. Nah, I just want a Bud Light right now, thank you kindly.”
Dean winked at her for good measure and sauntered over to the bar. He wasn’t prepared for the beautiful woman he’d find behind it, though.
It took a minute for her to come over, but Dean didn’t mind because he was eyeing her up and down. She was stunning. Her hair was dark, dark brown, coming to about her shoulders. She was tall and thin with a sharp grin and bright eyes.
“What can I getcha?” she asked with a sweet smile.
He couldn't hold his appreciative smile back. “A Bud Light and a Fat Tire, miss.”
“We don’t have Fat Tire. You want a Bud heavy instead?”
“Uh, what else you got?”
“Coors, Coors Light, Miller High Life…” she listed.
“Bud heavy is fine,” he settled. He paid for he drinks and went back over to his table, but not without a backwards glance at the bartender.
“She’s pretty, right?” Doreen asked once Dean returned, a smile across her lips.
Uh-oh. Dean was caught. But he could definitely recover. “What, her? She’s nothing compared to you, sweetheart,” he smoothly remarked.
Doreen laughed. “Dean, you don’t have to lie to me. I literally watched you check her out for a full 60 seconds. She’s a beautiful girl. I know her pretty well, actually.” This time, she was winking at him.
Dean was almost afraid to ask: “Wait, is that your sister?”
Doreen took a sip of her beer and nodded soberly. “Yup. And, uh, time for a full-on confession: I’m like, totally gay, and not interested in you at all. I brought you here to set you up with my sister. Sorry, but it was kind of funny watching you flirt with me.”
For probably the first time in his life, Dean felt conned. He frowned at the giggling girl and took a seat next to her. “You are one sneaky sonofabitch.”
“Guilty,” she replied as she waved her sister over.
Sam settled down in Nashville, Tennessee. He was tired of small towns. Bobby had set him up with a new identity, falsified his credentials, scored him an apartment and even a cellphone plan to get him started. Sam was overwhelmed with options of what to do next. Sure, he had a four-year degree in pre-law that he earned 9 years ago through an online college, but he has no idea what to do with it. Back then, he thought he might go back to law school. Now was a different story. He no longer believed in the law. He no longer believed in order.
He also very soon realized that he was going to need friends. That was a strange thought because he hadn’t needed to make friends in a very long time. In The Family Business, you had friends of circumstance, not ones you acquired through genuine companionship. That came later, if at all. After a week and a half of staying in his apartment with no job, nothing to research and no one to talk to, he firmly decided he was going out to a bar that Saturday night. Luckily in Nashville, you’ll never be in want of a bar.
He fussed a little over what he should wear and settled on a red button-down shirt with jeans. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he also didn’t want to look like he didn’t care. He could almost hear Dean calling him a girl in his head.
He cut his thoughts short. He and Dean had agreed on this and thinking about his brother made it so much harder not to pick up the phone and call him. Sam cursed himself. Why did this have to be so fucking difficult? It’s just his brother. Brothers usually spend time apart. After spending the last sixteen years on top of each other, Sam thought that the separation would feel more like relief. Instead, it reeked of withdrawal.
Whatever. He went to a bar and specifically chose one he wouldn’t normally venture. This one had blasting music, a dance floor, a bar lit up like a Christmas tree, and not an old drunk in sight. Sam felt decidedly out of his element. He posted up on a bar stool, slowly drinking a Jim Beam on the rocks.
How do you even meet people in a place like this? He thought as he looked around. Everyone, except him it seemed, looked like they knew what they were doing here. Girls flocked around the room, jumping from table to table, group to group; guys hung out with their buddies, playing stupid drinking games, and couples danced to music Sam had never heard before. The bass rumbled in his ears. He hated it. He'd resented the classic rock soundtrack that played his entire life, but now, he yearned for it.
Worst of all is that he noticed everything and everyone. Every time a new person was having their ID checked at the door, he took note. Every time one of the guys in the corner got a little too loud, Sam could pinpoint who it was. He could even tell which girl had a drink (or a few) too many. He couldn't shut it off. He was desperately trying to remind himself that he was a civilian now; that he could actually relax.
After about two more drinks without talking to anyone, Sam decided after his fourth, he was done. He was out of here. This was a stupid idea anyway. He felt silly and a little old as he looked at the 20-years-olds that occupied the establishment. He frowned darkly at the soccer game overhead.
“Come here often?” said a young, pretty brunette next to him.
Sam looked to his right. She looked amused. Thin, a little short, and certainly amused.
“Am I that obvious?”
She grinned sheepishly. “Kind of." She waved a man about her age over. “This is my boyfriend, John. I’m Kelsey.” The man approached, keeping his eyes on Sam.
“Sam.”
It was hard to look at him, but Sam was never someone to back down from intimidation. He was almost as tall as Sam, his eyes, demanding, searching. “You new around here?” he finally asked.
“Yeah,” Sam mumbled, meeting his eye.
“We could tell,” Kelsey chuckled. “You look like a lost pup. And way too hot to be sitting here alone.”
“Hot, huh?” John asked his girlfriend, speculative but with humor.
Sam chuckled uncomfortably. :Yeah,” he remarked. “I am new, but I think I’m gonna leave soon.”
But John suddenly insisted: “Have a drink with us.”
Sam's body tensed. He was suddenly thinking of the best way to dodge a blow from John, how to disarm him and slip out before the other patrons even noticed there was a problem. But instead he took a deep breath and reminded himself that John most likely didn’t want a fight. John had no idea who he was, no reason to come after him. So Sam replied, “Yeah, sure, man.”
Next thing he knew, it was 1 AM and he was having fun . On the other hand, Kelsey was asking a lot of personal, somewhat annoying questions.
“So where you from?” she slurred.
He responded automatically, “Kansas.”
“What!” John exclaimed. “My roommate is from Kansas! What part?”
“Lawrence?” Sam said quizzically.
“Oh. Not Lawrence. Actually, I don’t know where Kyle is from. Do you?” The last question was targeted toward Kelsey.
“Nah,” she replied. “I don’t. Hey Sam!” Sam looked at her, alert by her sudden exclamation. “You have any family?”
Dean. He stopped himself. “No one I really talk to anymore.”
Kelsey and John gave each other knowing looks.
“Wanna come hang out at my place tonight? We have bud,” John offered, his face open with a soft smile.
“Uh…” Sam started. “Listen guys, you’re really nice but I don’t know if I’m into - “
“Okay - just, shut up” cut off Kelsey. “We don’t want a threesome. We just think you’re cool. And a little lonely.”
Oh. A bit of a blow to his pride, but Sam couldn’t think of a reason to say no. He wasn’t used to trusting new people, but he was so, so bored. And, you know what? He was a part of mainstream society now. It was time to take a leap of faith. They had no idea who he was, who Dean was, who The Family was.
“Okay,” he grudgingly agreed.
John called an Uber, or maybe it was a Lyft? Sam was wholly unfamiliar with ride-sharing applications. Anyway, some guy in a Subaru picked the three of them up, and about 7 minutes later, they pulled up to a high-rise apartment building.
“I’m up on the 6th,” John explained as they made their way to the elevator. “My roommate, Kyle, the guy I mentioned before, might be there, but he’s cool.”
Kelsey chuckled and added, “If by cool, you mean stoned out of his mind 24/7? Then yeah, he’s cool.”
It was a short ride to John’s floor. Kelsey and John were snickering about an inside joke, Sam a few paces behind. They seemed so comfortable with each other, so in sync, and Sam acknowledged he was a little jealous. The only person he’s ever felt like that with was -
“Oh, shit, I think Kyle has a girl in there!” John exclaimed when the trio came to his apartment door. He pressed his ear to the cold, painted wood. “I definitely hear giggling, Kels.” He’s eyes were wide and amused.
Kelsey turned to Sam, a grave expression on her face. “Prepare yourself for what you might see, dude.”
“Uh, maybe we should knock?” Sam suggested, but was ignored as John eagerly opened the door.
“Kyle, you sonofa -” John began to announce, but cut himself off. A man with long, wavy brown hair was sitting on a loveseat against the opposite was with a blonde woman “Oh, it’s just you. You’re not a girl,” he said, addressing the woman.
“What the hell, not even a hello?” the woman pouted.
Kyle was laughing. “You thought you were gonna catch me red-handed, huh?”
“Dude, you have got to stop hooking up with girls in the living room,” John said.
“You have no proof,” Kyle whispered wickedly.
“Wait, have you… on this couch?” the woman asked. Kyle responded with only a knowing look. She immediately jumped to her feet and made a disgusted face at the man next to her.
“Oh, who’s this?” she asked, noticing Sam.
“Sam Wesson,” Kelsey interjected before Sam could speak. “He’s our new friend.”
The blonde woman was a sight for sore eyes, to say the least. Sam couldn’t take his gaze off of her. She was short, but taller than Kelsey, with big, dark blue eyes. Sam walked over to her, hand extended.
“Nice to meet you. What’s your name?” He realized he might be coming off a little creepy, so he softened his focus.
“Isabella, but I like to be called Ella,” she replied flippantly, giving Sam a lazy handshake. “I’m this loser’s sister.”
“Oh, I’m Kyle,” Kyle chimed in, sinking back deeper into the couch. “You trying to blaze?”
“Yeah, dude, pack it,” replied John for Sam. These two really liked to speak for him, it seemed.
“I’m actually okay for now,” Sam spoke up. He hadn’t smoked marijuana in over a decade. Probably before he was initiated into The Family Business. As kind and fun as this group of people were, he wasn’t ready to let his guard down that far. Besides, he was already a little drunk.
“How about a beer?” Ella offered, flashing Sam a grin. It was absolutely adorable.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
That night, he watched Kyle take bong rips larger than any human had any right to and laughed at him when he coughed for ten minutes straight after the group convinced him to try it. They tried to play flip-cup, but John was terrible and Kelsey was too drunk to chug beer effectively, though watching them both try and drastically fail was fun in itself. Mostly, they just sat around and talked. Sam and Ella took the loveseat with Kyle, Kelsey, and John on the couch to the right. Sam was entirely aware of Ella all night and took great notice when he rested his leg against hers, she rested hers firmly back against his.
***
Neave, Doreen’s sister was kind, forgiving and further, she was understanding. She was also bitchy, snarky, and a little wild, but that made Dean admire her all the more. Her hair was untamed curls and her smile was just as hard to reign in. Her gaze was sharp and her thoughts always perceptive - and not to mention, she was absolutely sexy. She could do this thing with her tongue that Dean could only describe as flicking but it brought him to his knees…
After three months together, the couple had their ups and downs. She was a little picky. Dean couldn’t leave his dishes in the sink for longer than an hour without her bitching about it. There was also her bossiness: it was kind of a turn on, but more than a little annoying when she went as far to lay his clothes out to wear on a day they were seeing her parents. And Dean… well, he had a lot of trouble opening up about pretty much anything, which frustrated Neave to no end. He didn’t want to talk about The Family and he definitely didn’t want to talk about Sam. But, despite it all, it worked. And Dean was happy and secure.
All-in-all, they were pretty wrapped up in each other. Dean still stayed at the motel - or, at least, he paid for the room. Most nights, though, he was in Neave’s bed. When they went out or attended parties, Dean had a habit of eyeing her all night across the room. He loved the way she could carry a conversation, loved that should could draw people into her story when she told it; she didn’t just explain the tale to them. And when they came home, she’d be all hands and lips, kissing him everywhere, pushing him onto the living room chair where she’d straddle him, rubbing herself against his leg and positively purring in his ear as he put his hands all over her. Soon they’d find their way to the bedroom - though sometimes, they just stayed exactly where they were.
They worked together at O’Malley’s five nights a week. The night Dean met her, she offered him a job as her bar back.
“They other guy I had, Jake, he quit because he knocked up some girl. But you seem like you know a thing of two about alcohol,” Neave had explained. Dean, not knowing what else he had to do, accepted. Well, Doreen had actually accepted for him, but he eventually agreed. He was full of curiosity for the older woman before him.
Dean was really starting to get the hang of tending bar, but Neave never let him forget: “You’re still just a bar bitch.” That was okay, for now, but Dean knew she was watching him work more closely each night, looking to see how he interacted with the customers, how well he knew the menu. Hell, she was even asking him to make drinks, rather than just fetch ice and straws.
It was Neave, Neave, Neave for the past sixteen weeks. Dean really needed to send Doreen an Edible Arrangement or something.
Therefore it was in Neave's bed that Dean got the call from Sam on the cellphone he wasn’t supposed to have anymore. It was in her one-bedroom apartment he paced to and fro while he spoke to his brother for the first time in four months. It was sitting on her couch that Dean, stomach in his throat, heard Sam say, chuckling and sniffling: “So Dean - listen, I’m - I’m gonna be a dad. I’m having a baby. And I want you… well, I want you to meet my fiancé.”
“Yeah, Sammy. Of course. I can be there next week,” Dean assured in a rushed tone before thinking, before processing.
Once he hung up, he woke Neave, who frowned deeply at Dean, pieces of hair pointing straight up in defiance of gravity. He would have found this charming any other time. He sighed deeply, placing a hand on her arm as he began to tell her about the brother she didn’t know he had.