SPN Imagines... (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Stealing Candles For Dean's Birthday Pie (Sister!reader)

"I don't wanna talk about it, Dean." You mumbled as you joined him in the Impala.

You could feel your big brother's eyes boring into you and you huffed out a breath as you buckled up your seat belt. Getting picked up from the police station for shoplifting and having to call Dean to bail you out was the complete opposite of what you were planning for tonight.

It was supposed to be a surprise and a nice one.

Dean started the engine so the heat blasted in your face and you could hear the lego pieces, that the three of you shoved through the vents when you were younger, rattling in the wind that warmed your cheeks. There was snow falling heavily on the windshield and the thick silence was cut by the wipers sliding over the glass every few seconds. While you just sat there, in the parking lot, until Dean was calm enough to speak.

"Dammit, Y/N," he growled and hit the steering wheel with an open palm, "What the hell were you thinking?!"

You shrugged and sniffled from the brief walk to the car in the cold. The snowflakes in your hair melted and wet the strands so some straggly hairs stuck to your cheeks.

It was Dean's birthday and Sam was counting on you to get the candles for the pie he was attempting to make in the motel microwave.

You hung your head and gripped the excess jean material on your thighs, the jeans didn't fit well, they were Dean's hand-me-downs. You often got his clothes before Sam since girls matured and grew faster than boys. Then your jeans went to Sam when you grew out of them so you couldn't cut them to length and instead rolled up each leg so that a heavy cuff sat on top of each boot. Snow always got into the top of the cuff this time of year and soaked through the layers, especially when the heat in the car started to melt it. The tips of your fingers grew numb with the longer and tighter you held the fabric between them.

If only your father let you run a credit card scam of your own, except he said there was no point because Dean had one and anything you needed you could ask him for. And you were underage so you'd need a fake ID too and the only one of those you had were school IDs. Nobody would believe you were over eighteen anyways. You just turned thirteen, only a year older than little Sammy, and you looked it.

"It's your birthday," you muttered and side-eyed your brother. "I couldn't afford the stupid candles."

His expression softened, "You could've asked me. That's what I'm here for."

You shrugged, "Would've ruined the surprise."

"Y/N, do you really think I had no idea what you and Sam have been planning for the past week? Subtly is not your strong suit, kiddo." He chuckled.

"I'm sorry." You shrugged and kicked your boots together, trying to knock off the snow that hadn't melted into your pant cuffs yet.

"It's okay," Dean said and reached over to tousle up your hair.

You whined and shoved away his arm. Dean laughed at the frown you wore as you fixed your hair.

"Are you gonna tell dad?" You asked, nervously gripping your jeans again and chewing on your bottom lip.

You'd seen the amount of trouble Dean had gotten into with John growing up and you didn't want any of it. You didn't have the strength Dean had when it came to standing up to him. Except Dean never talked back, he just took all of his soldier up crap and kept going. You didn't know how he did it.

He was different when your father was gone, he was lighter and way more fun. He'd joke around and let you get away with almost anything so long as you flashed him a smile. All Dean ever wanted was for you and Sammy to be happy and when you were, so was he.

"Hmmm," he pretended to think about it as he made you sweat, "Nah, it can be our little secret." You matched his smirk. "But the next time you kick off your boots in my car, you get last dibs on the shower for a week."

"Ew, gross!" You scrunched up your face and pouted. Your brothers always made a mess of the motel bathroom with wet towels thrown everywhere, toothpaste and hair in the sink, not to mention the misadventures of aiming at the toilet. How hard was it really?! Not to mention the amount of times you'd fallen in because they couldn't grasp the concept of putting the seat back down. "But-"

Dean cut you off talking to the Impala and patting the dash, "Sh-sh... It's okay, Baby, she didn't mean it."

"Are you done, dork?" You tried to hide your amusement and raised your eyebrows at him.

He snorted and nodded as he shifted the car into drive, "Mhm."

"Happy Birthday, Dean." You said, unbuckling your seat belt and sliding across the bench seat to give him a hug when he stopped at the light. "...You know, I love you. Right?"

"I know," Dean sighed into your hair and hugged you back even as the light turned green. "Love you, too, kiddo."