Work Text:
The air is light and the morning, cold. The warmth of each other’s body shields you from the real world, and the beat of his heart soothes you as gently as the wind blows the tree leaves outside.
“Are you okay there? Are you too cold?” He asks, lowly, and you instinctively curl up against him closer—if it’s possible. You caress his bare chest with your fingertips and place a soft kiss right where his heart beats at the rhythm of yours.
“I’m good.” You murmur. “Perfect, actually.” His hand gently traces your skin as he places a kiss on the top of your hair.
“You’re a bit silent there, you know.” He adds, and you look up, resting your hand on his chest and then your chin on top of it.
“Because I’m always so chatty?” You tease him, making him chuckle. His hand now traces your back, sending shivers down your body and a familiar heat to your stomach.
“Well…yeah.” You quirk up an eyebrow. “There’s nothing wrong, right?” His frown quickly fades when you reach up to brush your lips against his, and he presses his lips to deepen the kiss. You slowly pull away and stare at him for a moment, admiring the sunlight gently shining through his magical irises and giving his eyelashes another shade of blonde.
“God, I love your eyes.” You whisper, gently shaking your head.
“I love you, Y/N.”
It’s always the same dream. The same vivid dream of him telling you he loved you and you remaining silent. No matter how beautiful and heartwarming the dream was, you never said ‘I love you’ back. Sam used to tell Dean that his nightmares were always about his fears, ever since they were kids. Dean always told him to shut up. But it was true.
Waking up on a Sunday morning has never been so bitter. He feels hungover on sadness and confusion, and a little bit on alcohol, too. Last night, Dean came home alone again. No companion tagging along except for the bottle of cheap whisky he bought on his way back. He played some music, not too loud so you wouldn’t have to come over and complain, and he lay on his bed taking big sips of booze and wondering what he had done wrong or how he had misunderstood your feelings. He hated—loathed—drowning his pain in a drink (or six), it reminded him of the life he’d had with Sam and the way he numbed the anguish with beers and tequila. He didn’t hate every part of his life with Sam, but there are some moments he wished he’d never have to relive. And here he was again, acting like an angry teenager and struggling with his feelings. He may be a grown man now and he may have lived a bunch of crap but if there was one thing he never understood was his own heart.
His phone rang that night, luckily before he passed out and he struggled to hit the green button.
“Hey, Sammy.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Nah,” He smiled to himself. “A bit.”
“What happened? Are you okay? Are you home?”
“I’m fine, Sammy. I’m great! I have never been better.”
“So, you’re drinking to celebrate or…?”
“I’m drinking because I can and because I have no one to answer to! No one to tell me to stop, or to be pissed at me. I’m drinking because I’m all alone!”
“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam insisted, knowing his brother all too well.
“Nothing! I wanted to kiss Y/N and she didn’t want to kiss me. Big deal! I’m a free man!”
“Oh God.” Sam murmured to himself. “Dean, please tell me you won’t do something stupid. Sober up and think things through, alright?”
“What’s there to think about? She’s just a friend. She’s just my neighbor. And I’m just the idiot that fell for her. It is what it is, Sammy.”
“Are you sure she didn’t want…anything?”
“Yep! Pretty sure. She stared at me and said…” Dean burped and chuckled. “She said ‘no’.”
“No? What the hell does that mean?”
“You tell me! I’ve been trying to figure it out but I’m done! I’m free!”
“Stop saying you’re free, you sound like you’re out of prison.” Sam paused. “Listen, I’m sure there’s an explanation but don’t look for it now. Get some sleep and you’ll work it out…sober.”
“I’m not taking orders from you.” Dean said, making Sam roll his eyes.
“Sure.” Sam said, giving in to his brother’s drunk tantrum. “Just get some sleep.”
“Whatever you say, Sammy.” Dean hung up and let himself fall on the bed.
After contemplating if it was worth even getting out of bed, he lifts his body—heavier than ever—and forces himself to take a shower and turn his day into a less miserable one. It’s the first Sunday in a long time that he has no idea what to do, that he has absolutely no reason to go out or even do something at home. He searches his thoughts for the idea to text you. He doesn’t. He’s scared he made you feel uncomfortable, but he’s also scared of all the crappy feelings he’s having. He doesn’t understand them yet, but they bug the crap out of him.
You know what happened yesterday is nobody’s fault. The moment built itself and when it was too big for you, you panicked. You thought of all the hurt it would bring you to idealize him and consider becoming more than friends, whatever that meant. You thought of all the girls he’s brought to his place, and reminded yourself that you didn’t want to be just a name on his list, if he even bothers to remember names, that is. You thought of all the feelings he would fail to understand if you poured them all out on him. But you also know that the one to say no was you. In that moment it seemed that he wanted it more than you did, then again, Dean’s obviously more confident than you are. Telling yourself you shouldn’t feel guilty about pulling away from him like that, you still feel you should make it alright. With a trembling hand you reach for your phone and open his chat. The blinking cursor gets on your nerves, so you type the first thing that comes to mind.
“I made enough waffles for two (or four) in case you’re hungry.” Bleh. What a cliché, stupid line. You hit send anyways and sigh as you wait for an answer…or even for him to read it.
Dean stares blankly at his phone, not even unlocking it to read the text. He sits on the edge of his bed and decides he’s acting ridiculous and stupid. He replies with a surprised emoji and adds “OMW.”
He takes his phone, his keys, and his jacket, and confidently walks across the hall.
He knocks on your door, more hesitantly than other days, and it takes you two seconds to open.
“Hey.” He says instantly, but he doesn’t smile at you. You say nothing—maybe because you can’t get any words out or because you have no idea what you could possibly tell him. You let him in and he walks rather carefully, not even making at sound with his feet. He takes off his jacket and leaves it on the couch, as he always does. Both of you head to the kitchen, hardly breathing with the lack of air that took over the room.
He sits on his usual stool, and you pour him a cup of coffee. As you place the cup in front of him, you break the ice.
“How was the store yesterday?”
“’twas great.” He almost murmurs, taking a sip of coffee. “How are you?” He quirks up an eyebrow and stares for a moment.
“I’m great, too…I guess. Went shopping yesterday, some books, thrift stores…” You shrug as you serve him some waffles. After you serve your food you sit beside him, and you don’t even cut your waffle in pieces before he speaks.
“So…you’re good.” You glance at him, frowning questioningly.
“Dean, what is it?”
“I’m just asking,” He flutters his eyelashes the way he does when he asks a question annoyingly. “If you’re good and…totally unaffected by what happened yesterday.” Dean couldn’t even explain why his words came out like that. With your eyes widened, you shift on your seat so your body is facing him now, and you take a breath as your eyes dart all over the room. “Y/N, I’m…I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday, I do.”
“Dean…” You fix your gaze on his and cross your arms as if you’re protecting yourself from the chill that suddenly ran across the room. “You did not make me uncomfortable.” You shake your head gently. Your brain stopped there; you couldn’t find anything else to say, anything that would help you hide your feelings. You didn’t want to know why he had done that, you just wanted to go back to how things were.
“Then what was it, Y/N? Would it be so…crazy if we…if we weren’t just friends?” Your expression quickly shifts to shock and confusion, but he sits there waiting for your answer with a jaw clench and a slight frown.
“Alright…” You nod. “What’s going on? Is this some kind of prank you’re pulling on me to see how I react?” You narrow your eyes at him challengingly.
“It’s not a joke.” He replies quickly, shaking his head. “Would it be so bad?”
“It probably would be considering you have absolutely zero interest in commitment and relationships. In the two years that I’ve known you you’ve made it unbelievably clear that you don’t like relationships, that you don’t need them, and that you don’t want them in the first place! Why would I ever think otherwise?”
“Y/N…”
“No, Dean. This doesn’t happen overnight.” You shake your head. “Yes, we had a moment. Probably because I was grateful that you had let me stay, or because I felt that I can trust you more than I had thought, or because—and this you know—I really do find you attractive. But that’s that, Dean. That’s all there is.”
“Sweetheart, it’s different with you.” Man, if there was a contest for puppy eyes he’d win in a heartbeat.
“Oh no. No. Don’t call me that, and do not tell me it’s different. Why would it suddenly be different with me? Because it would be easier because I live across the hall?”
“Y/N! Why are you fighting this?”
“Fighting what?”
“This…us!”
“Dean! Answer me! Why is it different with me? Please, I want to know.”
“Because you know me. And I know you.”
“Know you? Alright, let’s recap a bit. I have known you for two years. For six months, I didn’t know your last name. I know you like music, and a bit of what type of music you like, I know you like movies, and books, and girls, unless you’ve failed to disclose otherwise. I know you have a record store and I know you like to eat, burgers, for instance. I know you are a great guy, with an even bigger heart, Dean, I have no doubt about that. But it’s in your eyes…all the things I don’t know yet, all the things you’ve never told me, all the stories that might not be so pleasant that I’d still love to hear about, all the places you’ve lived, all the things you have done, the family you’ve left behind. It’s in your eyes, and even if I’ve respected that and let you share what you wanted to share…you can’t say I know you, Dean.” You finally let out the huge breath you had to take in to say everything, and you stare at him. His turn to answer.
“I know, Y/N, and I…want to tell you, I do.” He replies with a frown.
“Yeah, but I don’t want you to tell me because you feel obligated, Dean. I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me these things, and I’m not saying this is about me. I know you have your emotional baggage, and something or someone in your life made you be so private and that’s okay. I don’t want to force you into anything, Dean. That’s why I wasn’t going to bring up what happened yesterday…”
“But I wanted to kiss you. I… want to kiss you. And…I know that to you a kiss means more than it does to me. But I swear, Y/N. I wish you knew that with you, things are different. Better.” You jump down from your stool so you’re standing in front of him as he tightens his lips, letting you see right through his eyes.
“Dean, I don’t think you’re ready for all of this. But I don’t know what’s going on in your head, so I’ll say this…for me.” You run a hand through his long hair. “I don’t want to jump into this because I am scared to get hurt. I know that you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but there’s a big chance that things get messed up because there’s so much we don’t know about each other and because you’ve never been in real relationship…” He grabs your wrist gently, keeping your fingers tangled in his hair.
“So, what do we do?”
“We…get to know each other.” You almost murmur. “For real, this time.” His lips slowly curl up in a sad smile, and you slowly put your hand down.
“I can do that.” He whispers. You smile at him and your gaze trace his features, making you slightly frown. “What is it?” He asks, the tone on his voice recovered.
“Did you get drunk last night?” His widened eyes betray him and he grabs his coffee, hiding his face in his cup.
“Why would you think that?” He asks, putting the cup down.
“You have your hungover eyes.” You say, chuckling.
“What the hell are my hungover eyes?” He asks, rather outraged.
“I don’t know, they’re kinda lazy and greener than usual. And the crinkles around them show more.” You cock your head to one side as if you’re examining him thoroughly, unable to hide your smile. He instinctively smiles wider, and fixes his gaze on yours.
“Can’t wait to know what else you’ve seen in me that I have no idea about.” He shakes his head.
“I have a ton of those…you’re fun to watch.” You shrug and he chuckles.
“I hope you’re not here just for my breathtaking looks.”
“That’s just a perk.” He smiles. “And keep growing that hair, please.” You add, making him quirk up an amused eyebrow.
“Really?”
“Works for me.”
“Well if it works for you, then…” He runs a hand through his hair, moving a strand that had fallen over his face. You shake your head in disbelief, biting your cheek and holding your smile.
“Let’s just eat, okay? I don’t want to keep feeding your ego.”
“You fed it enough for today, thanks.” You both chuckle and have breakfast, as usual. Except this time, things are not as usual anymore. Now, you both put your feelings out there…kind of? And your intentions are pretty clear. You didn’t let him see how much your heart was at rest knowing he’d been having you in the back of his head. Sure, it hurt a bit that all this time he’s been parading girls right in front of your face and leading you to believe that he only saw you as a pillow to talk to. But that’s part of who Dean is, anyway. At least that’s what you’re trying to find out. Yeah, things seem a bit messed up now but the way he looked at you and how his eyes met yours, synching the beat of your hearts…it was something new that you were willing to open up to. Slowly.
For a moment there was tension in the air, but it quickly faded once you agreed to have a quiet Sunday at home. He went to his place to grab a couple of movies but then you beat him in rock, paper, scissors, so you would pick more movies than him. For the sake of your now delicate friendship, you decided to watch movies on the couch, were there would be fewer chances of getting cozy and losing your self-control.