Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Dean enlisted in the hopes to help secure enough money for Sam to be able to go to college. Of course, he didn’t tell Sam. Why would he? Sam would understand, right? Turns out, Sam didn’t get it, and is giving Dean the silent treatment for over a year. In Dean’s desperation to reconnect with Sam, Dean reaches out to his brother’s best friend. Little does he know that the hurricane named Y/N will turn out to be the reason he wants to stay alive and go back home for.
Chapter Warnings: There’s another skype session in this chapter, yay!
WC: 35915Please respect copyright.PENANAlerbNMg5ta
It hasn’t even been a week since their skype call and Dean finds himself getting antsy. His ears are itching to hear her voice again. It has been too long but somehow, every time they try to schedule something, there’s a goddamn conflict.
Damn fucking time zones, seriously.
He was glad she didn’t ask about the bruise on his face the last time they saw each other on-screen. She didn’t ask about why his knuckles were raw and still had dried blood on them. He was actually kinda thankful for that bullet wound that was distracting enough to divert her attention from the purple color blooming on his face because he wouldn’t know how to explain to her that his temper had run away with him when he didn’t know if she was okay. Dean took his misplaced anger out on the enemy, beating the guy to a pulp just to be able to scratch his itch. Cas had to come between them, literally had to pry him apart and had to talk some sense into him. Telling him that even if it’s the enemy, they don’t deserve to die at Dean’s hand. Of course, Cas was right but at that moment, nothing really mattered. He really should get his act together. Captain Walker had put him on latrine duty since and Dean can be glad the dude likes him too much to make more of a fuss and have him face harder consequences.
Dean has noticed a change in his morale as well since he’s started writing and talking to Y/N. Benny said he’s smiling more, although Cas is still convinced that Dean’s still a major pain in the ass - even more so, Dean still thinks it’s a win. He never knew that having someone to talk to outside of this camp could be such a great feeling to have. No wonder people lined themselves in front of the communications tent all the time. He gets it now. It took him an awfully long time but he’s so fucking grateful that he reached out to Y/N on that day and even more grateful for her reply to him.
It’s safe to say that not being able to talk to her (or rather, read her lines) for, say, twenty-four hours already gets him grumpy and now that they are still tied to the base, he’s also bored out of his mind. It’s a bad combination. Sure, they have plenty to do but without any pressing mission to go onto, he feels like he’s wasted out here, and for the first time, he thinks that he could be needed more elsewhere.
More often than not, it’s too quiet around camp for him to bear, like tonight. He finds himself in the communication tent, just trying his luck, and Dean’s almost ashamed of how his face beams when he sees an email. Is almost ashamed of how much more lighter he feels.
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From: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAP0hYUJz9JB
To: Dean Winchester [[email protected]]5Please respect copyright.PENANAZEjvCH36yP
Subject: Talk tomorrow?
Hey Dean,
I know I’ve been terrible at keeping up with you the last two days. I hope you’re good? Are you still talking and walking? Please tell me you are.
I still have a headache every now and again (Yeah, I know I should go get it checked out, and I will, I promise, I just have to find time to do it since I’m swamped!)
Anyway, I think you’ll be glad to know that I managed to switch my morning coffee shift so we could talk tomorrow? If you’re not sick of me yet, that is.
Sammy’s doing good, btw. He has told me that he’s way ahead in his readings for his classes (such a fucking nerd!). I thought you’d be proud to hear that. He and Jess are still going strong. Don’t tell him you heard it from me, but I have the feeling that after graduation, wedding bells might start ringing. I hope you’ll be back to attend (both - the graduation and the wedding).
Okay, so, it’s late and I have to get some sleep. I’ll wake up early and look at my emails in the morning to see if you wanna talk, yeah?
Take care,5Please respect copyright.PENANASSMkkjVz8W
Y/N xxx
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Dean realizes that tomorrow for her is later today for him and seeing that it’s already 3 pm, he probably has only four to five hours left until he can see her face again. He actively tries to ignore the xxx at the end of her name and replies quickly.
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From: Dean Winchester [[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAvTgaQvT2pW
To: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAOH8pP5FLQp
Subject: Re: Talk tomorrow?
Dear Y/N,
I’ll be on skype later. Let’s say 9 am your time?
Also, please for god’s sake! Go and see a doctor. I know Sam doesn’t talk to me but I will pester him enough so he’ll get sick of me and take you there. Don’t think I won’t do it, Y/N! What did we say about you not giving me any goddamn heart attacks? I would so do it myself if I could, believe me.
Looking forward to talking to you!5Please respect copyright.PENANAZB1YSE8Vxs
D x
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Just when Dean’s about to log out, an email pops up.
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From: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAcHmOJPkAqN
To: Dean Winchester [[email protected]]5Please respect copyright.PENANAi1rZNzEMiH
Subject: Re: Re: Talk tomorrow?
Cool! I’ll talk to you in the morning then.
Y/Nxxx
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He frowns when he reads it but replies right away.
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From: Dean Winchester [[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAJDjhRc6RLn
To: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAZpIVCJ7qz7
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Talk tomorrow?
Wait, why are you still awake? It’s almost 2 am! Go to sleep, squirt!
D
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He can’t help but grin anyway when she answers him.
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From: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAqcc0kg17Un
To: Dean Winchester [[email protected]]5Please respect copyright.PENANAmIViUz1yFF
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Talk tomorrow?
Can’t sleep. But I’ll go now.
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*
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From: Dean Winchester [[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANA9cdowyYoF4
To: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAOyQKgVO8B0
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Talk tomorrow?
What have we said about heart attacks? Not healthy for me, okay? Go to sleep! Now!
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*
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From: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAEEHYnHj9fc
To: Dean Winchester [[email protected]]5Please respect copyright.PENANAeNt72OHMCe
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Talk tomorrow?
I’m going! Bite me!
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*
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From: Dean Winchester [[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANApdNRtqe5eI
To: [y/[email protected]] 5Please respect copyright.PENANAchm44NkisR
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Talk tomorrow?
I’m beginning to think that you have a biting kink, sweetheart. Just tell me where I’m allowed to. All you have to do is ask.
He waits a couple more minutes after sending it but there’s no answer, which is probably good because it means that she went to sleep but now he’s going out of his mind thinking that he crossed an imaginary friend’s line that he doesn’t know existed. He really doesn’t know how to act because he never had friends like her before. Ugh. This will be torture. The worst thing is that she’s going to give him a piece of her mind, which honestly, he’s looking forward to. It might be weird but he thinks she’s totally cute when she’s mad.
Dean shakes his head. He should definitely not be thinking about Y/N like that.
She’s a friend.
His friend.
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*
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Okay, so, waiting for an email was torture in Dean’s eyes but it’s nothing compared to waiting on the clock to tick to the time that he’s supposed to skype her. He should not live like this. It’s highly unhealthy, and yet, somehow, he wouldn’t want it any different.
He’s in the tent ten minutes early and it’s good that he has come earlier because he had to wait in line for most of the minutes that he’s early.
When it’s his turn and he signs into skype, he sees that he’s already seven minutes behind their scheduled time and is holding his breath. If Y/N’s not online anymore it’s on him and wouldn’t that just be great if he manages to screw something up again that was good for him? It wouldn’t be the first time, though, and he doubts that it’ll be the last.
Upon seeing that she’s still online, Dean releases his breath he’s been holding audibly, his shoulder slumps down in relief as the tension leaves his body, and he can’t fight the twitch at the one corner of his lips that wants to pull his mouth towards his ear.
Quickly enough, she picks up and it’s like a million lights have been lit up on his screen when he sees that damn radiant smile of hers. The fluorescent light bulbs above his head are holding nothing against it, Dean’s sure she could light up the whole camp for days with only one smile.
But then something clouds those damn beautiful eyes of hers, her eyebrows knit together at the same time worry lines appear on her forehead, and before Dean can even register and ask what’s wrong, the call gets disconnected.
“Dammit,” He grumbles. His one hand rubs at his face, not too hard because his muscles are tender underneath the pressure of his palm. His other hand moves on the mouse next to him, cursor finding the call button as he brings his fingers down to click at it maybe too harshly.
Y/N picks up on the fourth ring, and unlike the first time he’s seen her on-screen today with that radiant smile stretching across her face, her smile isn’t there anymore. Instead, it’s replaced by a press of her lips that turns it into a thin straight line. His heart already aches for that cute smile, wants to see it again so badly, it’s pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic over his brother’s best friend. It’s not sitting right with him but it’s not like he would want it any different.
She doesn’t say a damn thing and he watches as she’s taking him in, her gaze turned somewhat colder, gone is the warmth he experienced before. It’s also boring into him, making him feel somewhat vulnerable.
Dean doesn’t dare to speak either, decides to wait until she’s going to talk. And while he lets her fix him with a scrutinizing gaze, his eyes are wandering too, taking in the lights of the morning that shines through her blinds, lighting her up warmly. Her hair’s knotted on her head, strands falling down because of course, she didn’t try to tame it. The henley she’s wearing is dark blue and the perfect amount too big on her, almost dropping down one shoulder because she hadn’t buttoned it up. Something tells him it’s his but he doesn’t know how the hell she’s gotten her hand on his clothes. And then something feels different deep in his guts because if it’s not his he wonders whose shirt it is and somehow, he’s not too happy if it’s somebody else’s, which again, as he said, is a whole new level of pathetic.
“What happened?” She asks.
Her voice is way too hushed and his ears strain to even hear her. He has to tear his gaze away from the expanse of the flesh of her shoulder, actively trying not to think that it would be a super great place for him to sink his teeth into, drowning out the previous conversation he had where she told him to bite her, which he totally would love to. Instead, his eyes go back to her face and the worry lines are still there.
“Um,” He hums before clearing his throat and finding his voice again, “I enlisted and now I’m here.” Dean tries to take the light-hearted approach, secretly hoping for that smile to come back.
It doesn’t.
If looks could kill, he would be dead by the daggers she’s throwing at him with her eyes, and fuck, Dean still doesn’t know what’s making her so upset.
He shrugs helplessly. At least he tried.
She stays unaffected, the glare hasn’t even been disturbed. There’s a slight raise of one eyebrow, though. At least there’s that. “What happened to your eye?”
Oh.
Ooooh.
Shit.
Dean’s been too giddy, too wrapped up in his temporary high of seeing her today and he did not think about the black eye he’s been spotting since Gadreel hit him last night.
To be fair, he’s forgotten about that eye as quickly as he realized he had one this morning when he looked into the grainy and dusty mirror in their tent. Bruises and scars aren’t uncommon on his body or his face. Some became permanent fixtures, more so since he’s gotten here. Usually, they come and go, never staying for too long until the next one takes over. It has become normalcy and sometimes, it’s the only reminder to himself that he’s alive.
The reason for that black eye, though, he has no excuses for that. At least none that she’ll be happy about.
Dean shrugs again, it’s no big deal, “Boxing match,” Is the only clue he gives. There’s really nothing else he can say. It is what it is.
The call disconnects.
“Fuck.” He hisses under his breath, trying to keep his cool but his patience is wearing thin when she keeps on hanging upon him.
He calls again, almost destroying the mouse with his frantic clicking. Not that he cares.
Y/N picks up on the second ring but disconnects right after. There was only a glimmer of her face before it’s gone. She could have just not picked up but he knows it’s her way to get back to him. To give him the impression that he’s going to get where he wants only to take it away. Dean can’t really say that he doesn’t deserve it, but still…
“For fuck’s sake!” He groans out, shoulders slumping but he’s not going to give up.
So he calls again. She hasn’t signed out of skype yet. There’s still a chance he can fix whatever it is that needs fixing. Dean thinks it would be so much easier for him to know what makes her so upset, it can’t only be the bruise around his eyes, he guesses.
He tries twice more and sure enough, she picks up on the fourth ring again.
“Jesus Christ!” Dean sputters when her features grace his screen again. Grace it. There’s simply no other definition to him. “Don’t!” He shouts when he sees her shoulder moving, probably ready to disconnect.
Her shirt (or his shirt, he hopes it’s his) has ridden down her shoulder, exposing something he definitely wants to sink his teeth into but now’s not a good time to have these thoughts. Not that there will ever be. She’s a friend and he should definitely start to get less pathetic and stop thinking about her like that.
“I’m so mad at you. I don’t even know if I can talk to you right now.” Her voice is exceptionally calm, which Dean’s not used to. He’s used to her fighting and swearing loudly like he heard all the time when they were younger. She was the epitome of a hurricane, if hurricanes were human. He guesses that she’s grown up and maybe, this is not the Y/N he was holding on to but a complete new Y/N that he’s not really thrown off by the fact that he wants to get the opportunity to learn her like a book.
“Mad about what?” He asks, clear irritation in his tone of voice because that’s also him, he fucking tries to understand but it’s no big deal and he’s tired of her making it out to be one. “Just because I have a black eye?”
She sighs dramatically before she throws her hands up and she thinks he hasn’t seen the eye roll but he did see it all the same.
“No, you asshole!” She says it with no heat behind it like she often does. It does feel a lot more like an idiot than an asshole. “I’m not mad about your black eye, I’m mad that you’re hitting people and get yourself beaten up for fucking fun!”
Oh.
Yeah.
“Uh,” He sighs, “It’s just-”
“-don’t.” She cuts him off and Dean doesn’t even try to talk himself out of it.
“Why?” She asks after a minute of silence that might as well have been an hour.
If Dean thinks about a great skyping session that will fill him up with enough serotonin to last him the days where he won’t be able to talk to her, this one is definitely not the session he’s been thinking about.
He shrugs because there’s nothing else to do. It’s not like he knows why they enjoy beating the shit out of each other. It’s just simple entertainment and it’s not like he’s stepping into the ring all the time. So he explains his thought process. “It can get boring around here, and entertainment is scarce. I’m not doing it a lot myself, just when someone offers me something.”
“What did the winner get? Do they get to be the head alpha male?” She doesn’t make it sound like it’s a joke so he knows that it isn’t. She always hated the alpha male attitude, he knows that.
“A bottle of rum.”
“Wow,” It wheezes out of her.
“It’s not like we kill each other,” He adds meekly, as if it does make it sound better.
“Ah no, of course not. You just beat each other black and blue for entertainment. God, Dean, you’re such an idiot!”
Well, yeah. Probably he is. He’s not going to deny it.
“Why are you so upset about it? It’s not like it’s the first-”
“-stop! I don’t even want to know.”
Dean sees the fire in her eyes raging. She’s right. He probably shouldn’t feed the fire if he doesn’t want to see her burn.
So he waits.
They actually don’t have all the time in the world and he hates that half of his time on skype is already wasted with arguments about something trivial, like boxing. Well, it isn’t insignificant to her, apparently, and the knowledge that he’s upsetting her cuts him like a knife. Maybe he should really lay it down a little, maybe he should try to channel his temper into something more healthy.
It’s about another two hours on his inner clock - which to everyone else is a couple of minutes - of silence until she speaks. It comes out a little shaky, as if she’s trying to quell her own temper so as not to ruin this conversation for the both of them for good.
“What are you doing, Dean?” She asks, and he has no answer to that because he doesn’t know either. Y/N shakes her head, chokes out a snort of laughter, “You have no idea how much I worry when you’re out there being the self-sacrificing asshole that you are. I get it, you know? I get that you feel like we don’t need you so you go somewhere where you think you’re needed, but that’s not enough for you. No, you had to go and get into fights at camp? For what? Entertainment? God, I’m so mad. I don’t want to worry on the days you’re supposed to lay low and recuperate!”
Her words hit him hard. Like a goddamn freight train. It’s the shock-effect, Dean guesses because it’s the first time someone really said that to him. The first time someone really worries and she does because Dean can see it in the cloudiness of her eyes, can see it in the creases on her forehead.
“I’m sorry.” He says, shoulders slumping, defeated.
Now, he could defend himself better. He could tell her that he’s far away from being self-sacrificing. That he’s being selfish and a fucking coward to face the life on his own. He doesn’t tell her that being here, amid deaths, he needs to bruise in order to feel that he’s still here, still standing, still alive.
“Just.. don’t, okay? Stop getting yourself hurt and act like it’s no big deal because it is. I swear if I get to see another black eye from a boxing match I’m gonna stop skyping you.”
“Oh, come on, that’s harsh.”
“Promise me,” Y/N simpers. The clouds from her eyes have lifted, the fire in them reduced to smoke. Surely, she’s putting on a brave face and maybe, she too doesn’t want this to be all about their argument.
“Yeah, okay.” He relents, the stance he took on was wobbly, about ready to collapse anytime anyway.
“Say it.”
Dean groans, “Why?”
“I want you to say it.”
There’s a grin on her face and he just knows that she won’t back off.
“I promise. You happy now?”
“Very.” She smiles now and he wonders if it would be okay to just take a screenshot and send the picture to his phone. But since he doesn’t even know how to do it and it would take too long to figure it out, he retorts to commit her smile to memory. He makes a mental note to ask Cas next time how to screenshot efficiently without the other person knowing.
Dean smiles too and it seems like she’s seeing it as a competition because a couple of minutes later they are both smiling like idiots.
Jesus, her smile lights up like a beacon in the night. Dean’s absolutely sure that if he’ll ever get lost, her smile would guide him home.
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