Chapter Text
“Don't move, jackass!”
Dean's deep and gruff voice echoes off the walls in the small library, his gun armed and ready as it points straight ahead. In front of him with her back facing him, was the one and only witch that you had been spending the last two weeks hunting down non stop. Multiple nights staying up, going through the details of the case, interviews and lore. About a gazillion cups of watery coffee--that could barely even count as coffee, but was forced down anyway because of the much needed caffeine boost-- had been drunk. Dean was so over this case, so instead of the suspense that should have been running through him at this moment, he could only feel a sort of relief that this would finally be over, and they could move on to whatever monster was waiting for them on their next hunt.
The witch didn't have the most charming looks, as Dean noted. Her dark hair was a mess, it was thick and went down to her hip, knotted and tousled from only god knows what, and she was wearing a long black dress that looked more like a curtain had been wrapped around the body than anything. Her horrendous posture could only be compared to the one of quasimodo, and made even Dean stand up a little straighter.
“Nowhere to go now, huh? Turn around, Broom-Hilda!” Dean ordered the witch, his voice low and authoritative, he had a habit of roughing up his voice a little when he wanted to intimidate his enemy. His gun was raised, aimed right at her head as he waited for her to follow through. And slowly but surely, she made her way around. Dean was ready to start talking when his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion of the small vial the witch was holding in her right hand. It was small and full of a red, slightly translucent liquid. Dean’s mouth opened, ready to inquire about the odd object when, in a flash, she threw it on the ground and tried to make her escape. Glass shattered and a red gas seeped up from the liquid that was now laying in a pool on the floor and filled the room. On instinct, Dean’s finger pressed down on the trigger, a witch killing bullet flying out from his gun and a loud bang sounding through the house. The bullet must’ve hit her, because a thump was heard amidst the chaos, most likely from a body hitting the floor, and Dean was a little too busy having a coughing fit from the mystery gas that filled the room to check if he had hit his target.
"Dean, Dean?! Are you okay? I heard a gunshot” You rush into the room where the commotion had been going on, to see Dean with a hand on his chest, hunched over as he tries to get over his coughing fit. The entirety of the red gas had disappeared at this point, gone almost as quick as it came. If Dean could see your face, he could see the worry and confusion as you repeated his name in an attempt to get his attention and figure out what the hell had happened here. “Im good-” Dean assures you as he finally recovered from his cough. He straightens up and turns around to face you, prepared to give you one of his charming smiles and maybe crack a small joke to ease your worries as he always did. “Don’t worry sweetheart, you-”
Confusion fills your head as his sentence was cut off and Dean stares at you with the most dumbfounded look ever, his lips parted, eyes wide and gaze fixated right at your face. You chuckle confused and wave a hand in front of his face when the thought occurs to you that something might’ve happened to him and you turn more serious. “Hey, what are you doing? What happened here?” Your eyes scan the room and land on the now dead witch laying on the floor of the room. A bullet wound was right in her stomach and blood had formed into a pool under her. Before you could open your mouth again to ask another question about the situation, Dean speaks again. But not an answer to any of your former questions, he just says “Hey, Baby” With a huge grin on his face and still staring right at you.
Baby?
Dean doesn’t call you baby. Sweetheart, sure, but not baby. That nickname was reserved for his beloved car--The Impala--, as he had explained to you multiple times. Then in an almost comedic timing, Sam comes around the corner. His tall figure bends slightly as he walks through the doorway into the room. Dean’s head doesn’t move an inch to even acknowledge the new presence in the room, and his grin doesn’t falter in the slightest. “What’s going on?-” Sam’s eyebrows furrow as he sees his older brother’s state and he takes a step closer to Dean “Hey, dude, you doing okay?”
Then, without moving his gaze from you or changing his facial expression, Dean says “I'm doing great, Sammy. I’m in love” This did absolutely nothing but confuse you and Sam even further. And it didn’t help how you could feel your heart do a little jump at how he looked directly at you as he said it. And even more so as you could see him approaching you.
“In love?” Sam repeats, watching Dean move as he understandably tries to get him to elaborate. Your eyes widen as Dean's hands land on each side of your head and even more so as he pulls you into a jaw droppingly passionate kiss.
Dean Winchester was kissing you. The most badass man on earth, with a face that looked like it was sculpted by gods. Dean Winchester who’s five o’ clock shadow looks like what every man wants it to look like on them. Dean Winchester who you, no matter how many times you deny to Sam about, have feelings for because even if you don’t want to, you simply can’t stop yourself because it's Dean Winchester. His eyes were closed and head tilted slightly to get a better angle as he tried to push his tongue into your mouth. You have to force yourself to pull away. This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s supposed to crack a joke, flirt a little with you, smile at you, torture you in the most excruciatingly unintentional way. So you force yourself to place your hands on his shoulder to try and pull him away.
Sam, who was standing with eyes just as wide, gets the hint immediately and has to pry Dean off of you. Dean immediately pushes Sam roughly off of him and stares at him with a look that has you wondering if he was going to end up punching him. “What the hell was that?!” You say, this time demanding an explanation from him. Dean turns his head to face you, his angry facial expression dropping instantly into a soft, loving one. “What do you mean, baby?” He asks, the grin coming back onto his face. “I’m kissing the love of my life”
You turn your gaze toward Sam, sharing a look with him. “Something’s wrong” Was Sam’s words, and he was right. Dean wasn't himself, the witch must’ve done something to him.
---
She's so pretty.
Like a flower
or rock music
yeah…
she’s pretty like rock music
The way her eyebrow furrows as she looks at me all worried, makes her look all sexy. What if she doesn’t know? She needs to know how beautiful and sexy she is. The way her hair falls on her shoulders and frames her face. Oh god, the way her mouth moves when she talks.
“What happened to you, Dean?” Sam’s voice sounded in his ears. Sam. Why would he listen to Sam's voice when he could be listening to you and your gorgeous, gorgeous voice? He almost didn’t want to answer him, but he was in a good mood today. He was in love after all.
“What do you mean, what happened, Sammy? Glinda over there made me realise that the love of my life had been right next to me for so long.” He says and gestures towards her. He wasn’t lying. Whatever she threw at him really opened his eyes and he didn’t get why they were both looking at him like he was crazy. She could look at him however she wanted, as long as she was looking at him and not anyone else.
“I think it’s a love potion or spell of some kind” Sam says, no longer talking to Dean but being turned towards her. “Are you kidding me?” She groans. Dean liked that. Maybe he could get her to do that again in a different context. He may have zoned out a little, ‘cause he didn’t hear Sam's ramble about whatever. He was concentrating about how she slightly bit her bottom lip--a thing she did when she was worried-- and how she looked when she was thinking. He actually didn’t notice anything but her until she came up and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was impossible to stop the huge grin on his face as she touched him, even if it was just his shoulder. “We´re gonna take a little trip back to the motel” Her voice, smooth like honey and he couldn’t do anything but nod at her, stupid and drunk on love.
He swung an arm over her shoulder. “Let’s go, baby” He says determined and starts guiding them out of the house, purposely hitting his shoulder against Sam’s as he walks past him.