Chapter Text
Day 1
“But I don’t wanna stay at the arcade again. Why do you have to hang out with girls all the time anyways??” Sam whines as Dean hurriedly tries to hush him. They’re slated for another long day of waiting around for their dad to finish a hunt, and Dean has plans with a new flavor of the week girl.
John, about to rush out the door of the motel, still manages to overhear, and he sighs heavily. A cold rush of fear runs down Dean’s spine, and he braces himself to be admonished. However, it doesn’t come. “Listen, Dean. While we’re in the towns we’re in…I can try and reach out to old hunter buddies and see if they can watch Sam sometimes. I know you’re a young man now, and you need some…freedom.” John says, although it looks like the words make him slightly ill.
Dean is pleasantly surprised. Not only is that great news, but it’s also one of the rare times that John has acknowledged his budding maturity. Not enough to bring me on hunts, he thinks bitterly, but he lets himself take the small win.
Soon, John gets wind of another case, and the boys settle into a new motel in a new town; a fairly small town in the Bay Area of Northern California. The drive in is beautiful, vibrant displays of autumn colors flutter around as leaves fall from their trees around the car. This mission promises to be a long one, so John has gone ahead and enrolled the boys in a local high school, with Sam in 9th grade, and Dean in 12th grade. They unpack their limited supplies in the motel, and John is just as soon ready to embark on his hunt. But first, he calls up an old hunter buddy.
“Miguel! How’s it going, man? Been a long while!...Yes, I’m still doing the hunter thing…Wondering if you could watch one of my kids…Great!” Sam and Dean hear snippets of John’s phone conversation with his friend. John hangs up, and comes back inside. “Alright, Dean, you can drop Sam off at my old friend Miguel’s place when you need to go out. He said you’re welcome any time, and that you can hang out with his own kids.” Sam makes a face but nods in understanding. Dean is thrilled, and within a few weeks of being at his new school, he manages to snag a date with a pretty blonde cheerleader named Veronica or Vanessa or something like that. He’ll figure it out later.
“What do you even like about Vanessa anyways?” Sam scowls as he sits in the passenger’s seat of the car while Dean drives him to Miguel’s house. Ah, so it is Vanessa, Dean thinks. “What don’t you like about her?” Dean throws back to Sam.
“She’s so mean to all the younger guys who ask her out, she made my friend cry last week.” Sam mutters. Dean simply shrugs. “Well, they have no business trying to ask her out anyways.” Dean replies, and Sam sighs disapprovingly, just as they pull up beside the address he had been given. From the outside, it looks like a nice middle class house perfect for a family. The idyllic scene makes Dean’s stomach turn, and he can’t figure out whether it’s from disgust or envy.
Before Sam gets out, he groans. “Ughhh. Why couldn’t I just stay in the motel and read again? I don’t want to hang out with this random guy and his kids.”
“Look, at least this way you’ll probably get fed. Chin up. Let’s go.” Dean says shortly, and exits the car. They make their way to the front door, and Dean knocks on it firmly.
“Coming!” Sam and Dean look at each other, slightly confused, when a female-sounding voice answers them.
And then, you open the door.
Dean’s jaw nearly drops. You’re in a simple outfit, just a white top and grey jeans, and yet he scans you up and down, eyes pausing indecently over the slivers of smooth, tanned skin visible between your pieces of clothing. He gulps and looks back up at your face, your doe eyes framed between layers of long, dark hair. If he were any more poetic, he might’ve waxed on about how beautiful, gorgeous, or stunning you are. As it stands, all he can think is: GodDamn.
“Hi! You must be Sam and Dean. I’m Emmeline, but you can just call me Emmi! I’m Miguel’s daughter. So…who’s who?” You smile at them, either ignoring or completely unaware of Dean’s obvious attraction.
He recovers quickly, and immediately dials up the charm. “Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Dean, and this is Sammy.” He throws his arm around his brother, much to the younger’s chagrin. “It’s Sam,” He asserts, but Dean ignores him.
“Alright! Come on in, and you can put your shoes over here.” You say as they cross the threshold into a nice suburban home, but it’s clear that it belongs to a hunter family as Dean eyes the shelves and shelves of antique and modern bladed weapons.
You notice his gaze, and grin. “Yeah, we’ve got a shit ton of swords and daggers, Dad has an obsession. We use them too, they’re not just decoration.”
“Wait- you use these?? Like, on hunts??” Sam asks, amazed.
“Yep! My dad taught my sister and I kali, a close-combat blade fighting style because he likes to follow tradition. He’s way better though, which is why he can afford not to supplement with a gun, but we still carry them just in case.” You say, unlocking a cabinet to show off your fairly decent gun collection as well.
“You have a sister? How old is she?” Sam asks, as nonchalantly as possible, and Dean can’t help the smirk that slides onto his face.
“She’s 14.” You reply, and Sam struggles to fight the excitement.
“I’m 14!” He says. “And Dean is 18!”
You smile. “I’m turning 18 soon! What a funny coincidence.” Dean feels something bloom in his chest but he stubbornly tamps it down. You continue: “Well, I wish they were both here to meet you two also, but they’re out checking the town’s perimeter and doing some one-on-one training today. I had mine yesterday, so I’m chilling at home cuz I’m so sore.”
Dean is impressed. “Damn. I’d love to see you in action.” He grins flirtatiously at that, but you breeze past his double entendre quickly.
“Maybe one day you can be my backup,” You say easily, and Dean actually does a small double-take. “Wait, really?” He asks. He’s hiding it well, but inside he’s ecstatic. His dad still doesn’t allow him to come on most hunts, so being second-in-command on a hunt in any capacity would be an insane opportunity.
Sam, fed up watching Dean try (and fail) to flirt with you, he finally snipes, “Hey Dean, don’t you have a date to get to??”
Dean nearly elbows Sam in the arm. “Hahhha, what? No- it’s not-” He turns to you slightly, “It’s not a date, we’re just hanging out-” You raise your eyebrow, a smile teasing the corner of your mouth.
“Whatever, you’re gonna be late either way.” Sam deadpans, and starts pushing Dean towards the door.
You manage to scribble your number in Sharpie on a bottle of water, and you hand it to him as Sam forces him through the doorway. “Here- For the road! And call me so we know when you’re heading back!” You call after him.
The last thing that Dean hears you say before the door closes is a question posed to Sam; “So Sam, do you play any video games?”
Dean is on his date with Vanessa, and things are going well. Still, he’s distracted, to say the least. The two of them order food, and he wonders what kind of food you and Sam are having, wonders whether or not you can cook. She tells him she’s an only child, and he tells her he has a little brother. Who, he thinks, is currently playing video games with a total babe. She smiles at him, and he sees flashes of your face, that too-innocent smile a mask for something, he’s sure of it. Vanessa is nice enough, but she’s a little…boring, he sighs. And her life is just so simple, He can’t seem to find it in himself to be interested in anything she’s talking about. But, she’s clearly into him and falling hook, line, and sinker for every flirtatious comment he lobs her way, so Dean supposes it could be worse.
Dean drives her back to her place afterward, and parks. He thinks for a moment that he might be able to angle for a goodnight kiss, and he looks over at her. She licks her lips, clearly on the same page. But then, “Wow, I’m a little bit parched. Could I have some of that water?” She gestures to the unopened water bottle sitting on the seat, the one you had given him earlier.
“Sure, go for it.” Dean says, completely forgetting about the Sharpie phone number on the side of it until she brings it up to her lips to drink. He sees the number at almost the same time she does, and immediately starts trying to think of a suitable excuse. She’s faster.
“Wait- who’s number is this?” Vanessa asks suspiciously.
“Oh-uh it’s the- the babysitter’s. Sam’s babysitter.” He stutters slightly, even though what he said isn’t technically untrue, but it doesn’t help the believability factor.
“Riiight. And why would the babysitter write their number on a bottle of water?” She continues questioning him.
“I was leaving in a rush and she didn’t have any paper on her? I don’t know-” He manages, but she cuts him off, even more upset now.
“OH, SHE?? How old is this girl??” Vanessa snaps, and Dean has completely forgotten his attraction to her in the face of her shrill jealousy.
“She’s…our age.” He mutters, hoping that by answering truthfully he can shorten the length of the rest of the interaction.
“Well, is she pretty??”
And at this, he pauses. Then, stutters; “Uh, sh-she’s alright…” Both of which he realizes soon after were huge mistakes. The correct answer probably would’ve been to firmly deny it.
“Wow, that’s just great. I’m going inside. And I’m taking this water bottle.” Vanessa leaves the car huffing, and when she shuts the door, all Dean does is heave a sigh of relief.
Well, that could’ve gone a little better, Dean thinks to himself wryly. And she took the water bottle, so I can’t even call and tell them I’m heading back early…oh well. He doesn’t have anything else to do but go back, so he pulls away from Vanessa’s and heads across town to your house.
Dean arrives at your front door and hears a muffled cry from within the house: “NOT THE BLUE SHELL NOT THE BLU- GAHHH!!”
He grins and knocks, hopefully hard enough that someone heard it. You open the door as you yell back at Sam, “The pause isn’t gonna save you, you know!” Then, you turn to greet Dean with a smile.
“Hey! You’re back early, sorry, I must not’ve heard your call.” You apologize, but he waves it off.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t send one. I, uh, lost the water bottle,” he says sheepishly.
“...What? How?” You ask, confused.
“Well, to be honest, I offered it to the girl I was hanging out with and she…didn’t take it well when she saw your number on the side.” Dean sighs, shrugging slightly.
You cringe. “Oh my god I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of that. Did I totally nuke your chances for a second date?”
“Ehh, it’s fine, really. She was okay, but so…civilian, y’know?” Dean admits.
“...Yeah, I get what you mean. It’s hard to connect with people with the frankly fucked amount of baggage and secrets we have to carry.” You say, unable to help the slight bitterness that seeps into your tone.
Dean is surprised, then he feels a strong sense of kinship grow within him. Yeah. She gets it. He thinks.
Then, interrupting the moment; “EMMI, HURRY UP!” Sam shouts from the living room.
“Oh, right- Sorry! Coming!” You shout back, then to Dean you say; “I’ve been figuratively beating your brother to a pulp at various games.” You pat Sam’s head as you sit down again on the sofa in front of the TV. “He’s a very gracious loser though, so it’s tough to gloat without feeling bad!” You conclude, and Sam shakes your hand off his head.
“Well you’re gonna feel like shit when I totally crush you in this race!” He laughs with maniacal glee, and Dean almost chokes.
“Sam! Language!” He scolds, but you laugh it off.
“Sorry, I think I might’ve broken him.” You giggle, so Dean huffs a laugh and sits down on Sam’s other side.
“Hey Sammy, you having fun?” He asks.
“NO, I’ve been getting my ass kicked all night!” He exclaims. You and Dean share an amused look at his theatrics. “Dean, can I finish this game before we go??” He implores Dean with his patented Little Sibling Eyes™.
Dean sighs. “Well, we wouldn’t want to impose…”
You start to shake your head. “No, no, don’t even worry about it! My dad and sister won’t be back until at least midnight, we can keep gaming for a little longer.”
Dean relents easily. “Alright, only a few more rounds at the most, though.” Sam reaches out to fist bump you in celebration, and Dean smiles, happy to see him opening up with another person.
“You ready?” You ask Sam.
“Ready!” He says, with the most serious face Dean has ever seen.
You unpause the game, and chaos resumes.
You manage to get in 4 more races, with Dean taking a few turns as well.
Then, as if to signal the end of a spell, the grandfather clock in the living room strikes midnight.
Dean gets up and ruffles Sam’s hair. “Okay, Sammy, time to go. Dad doesn’t want us staying out too late.”
“Why?” Sam grumbles, tiredly, “ ‘Snot like he’s gonna be there when we get back.”
Dean is afraid to see your reaction, but when he glances over, the sympathy is written all over your face. And underneath it all, a glimmer of true understanding. Silence reigns, but you think quickly and speak up.
“Sam, dude, you’re practically falling asleep on your feet! Just let me know when you want to come over and hang out, and we can pick up where we left off!” You gently encourage him, and he blinks heavily at you, finally nodding in assent.
Dean helps him up, and you smile as you watch him sleepily put on his shoes.
Sam mumbles “G’bye,” and stumbles out the door, heading towards Dean’s car. Dean chuckles after him, and steps down to follow. He pauses and looks back at you to thank you for watching Sam, to ask for your number, to wish you goodnight, anything. But he stops when he sees you looking at Sam as he wobbles to the car. The expression on your face couldn’t be read as anything other than maternal, and for some unknown reason something inside him aches. So he freezes and says the only thing that comes to mind. “Sorry to keep you up so long,” He mutters, suddenly hoarse.
You smile, and oh, this one is different. It’s a beautiful, wicked little thing. Something for his eyes and his eyes only (or so he hopes). “That’s alright, I don’t usually mind going all night long.”
Dean’s eyes widen in shock and he thinks, Did she really just-? You giggle at his reaction. “Goodnight, Dean~” All Dean can do is watch helplessly as you wave while closing the door behind him.