I Don't Bite [Dean Winchester x Reader] Book 2

Holy Beasts

"Call me if you need anything, alright? I mean it, don't be stubborn."

"Stubborn? C'mon sweetheart, when have I ever been stubborn?"

I scoff and swat Dean's shoulder and he chuckles, brushing my hand away haphazardly. He made Bobby's kitchen feel warm, somehow filling the space with just his presence. A beer in one hand, casually tapping his ringed middle finger against the cool glass. I liked when he wore rings, even if they were just for warding. It was something Sam never did – Dean had always been the superstitious one of the pair.

And yet, here he was with me. A monster.

A blush dusted my cheeks when he hooked a finger into my belt loop and pulled me closer. I braced my palms flat on the counter on either side of him, caging him in. His lips twisted up into a wry smile, his nose scrunched slightly in a mockingly playful expression.

"You are nothing but stubborn, Dean," I countered, poking his sternum gently. His hand caught my wrist, holding me close.

"So are you."

"A match made in Hell," I mused. I regretted my choice of words for only a moment before a chuckle escaped his lips. The sound immediately brought a smile to my face and warmth to my cheeks.

"We make it work."

Do we? My smile slipped for a moment, brows pinching together in a thoughtful expression. It was... hard to be so open with someone. We were both so used to keeping things internalized. I was so focused on attending to my own needs, that now balancing his and mine was... hard. Things had never been easy, but at least they hadn't been quite so dangerous. Maybe life would've been better if I hadn't lost control that first time before my mother died.

But if that were the case, I probably wouldn't have met Dean.

"C'mere," he said gruffly, rousing me from my thoughts. His hands grabbed me tightly by the shoulders and drew me against him. I had enough time to make a quiet mmph sound before I was squished against him in a suffocating hug. "You're thinking too much. We're fine."

"For now," I mumbled against the soft fabric of his shirt. How long until angels decided to make our lives hell? Before the white wolf tried to make himself at home in my head again? Before my pack turned on me with vicious intent that I knew lingered beneath the surface in some bonds?

Now it was Dean's turn to hum quietly in response. I breathed deeply, releasing a dramatic sigh, and he did the same, mocking me. My lips twisted in a smile.

"Any chance I can come with you?" he questioned again. I breathed him in and closed my eyes tightly. Would be nice to have him in our bed again. Share breakfast with Sam in our house. Beers in the evening on the front porch.

"Not a chance. Too dangerous," I mumbled out my muffled reply. He nodded in acknowledgment, his unshaven face scratching at my hair. "At least wait until we... I don't know, get some magical border patrol or something."

Dean chuckled and I opened my eyes. I pulled away from him so I could meet his gaze. "Defending myself against monsters is kinda my specialty, sweetheart."

I rolled my eyes. My hands grabbed the front of his shirt, balling into tight fists as if he would disappear the moment I released my grip. "I'd like to see you take five skinwalkers in a fight, let alone eighty-five." Or was it ninety?

"Do I get to keep my weapons, or is it a bare-knuckled brawl?" he asked with a toothy grin.

"You have a death wish."

"I like to call it 'dramatic flair'- ow!" he said, flinching back slightly before bursting into laughter after my open palm made contact with his chest in a playful smack.