Superwholock one-shots

Long Lost Kisses

The bookstore was all you wanted, and now you have it. The smell of old wood is the first thing you smell as you step into your new home. You can't wait to start your little store and make a home in the apartment above.

"Smell that, that's the smell of something new," you say to yourself. When you realize that you're talking to yourself, you sigh. The box you were carrying drops out of your hands since you drop it to go get other things.

"And the bookshelves will start here," you prance to the left wall. "And keep going this way." You walk toward where the counter will go. The bookshelves will be brought in later, with the books. This move is epic from your tiny store that you dumped for this one. After all that moving, you head upstairs, where you've set up a mattress.

------

"Bring them in!" you yell to the movers about your bookcases a week after your first night. They have to be turned on their side to fit in the door. You stand in your purple robe and watch them carry each and every one in. "Now, the books."

Boxes and boxes of books fill the place where your shop will be. The guys are long gone. They did a great job at putting the bookcases where you wanted. Everything is just about how you envision it, now time to actually start putting the books on the shelves.

You pick up the first box labeled "Classics" and get to work. It's hard work of course, but you get through it. You're planning on opening soon of course. One box down, dozens more to go.

Soon, all you can think of is where to put Dickens. Book titles and their authors fill your head. Its nearing midnight before you sit in the ground surrounded by the books. The whole back wall has been covered with classics. The next genre, which will be on the wall closest to the windows, will be some lore, ghost stories. Stuff like that. It has always fascinated you, so you always keep it well stocked.

You work into the night. The sun pours into the windows as you finish putting the last books into the "Teen Fiction" section. Sleep wants to win. Your eyelids drop. Maybe if you just curl up on the floor for a few moments.....no. Someone opens the door before you can do just that. "Sorry, we don't open until next week," you turn around to face the stranger. The ladder almost collapses under you when you see who's standing in the door way.

A man in an old leather jacket looks up at you. He has short cut, dark brown hair. Freckles litter his face and his eyes pierce into yours. "Dean fucking Winchester." He is here, in your bookstore.

"Well, (y/n) fucking (y/l/n)," he states back with a shit-eating grin. "I haven't seen you since, what? Senior year?"

"Yeah, that's right. Senior year." Oh god, senior year. On the outside, you are calm. Inside, you are a screaming mess.

Both of you stand there in an awkward silence. "I understand if you're not ready to for-"

"I will never be ready to forgive you. You left me there crying. You left me for her." It takes all your might to not scream. A flash of a pushed aside memory comes to mind.

~~~
Flashback:

It was the night of your fifth date with no other than Dean Winchester himself. You guys had immediately hit it off. He had promised to take you to see the meteor shower that was supposed to be happening, but he never showed up. You waited and waited on your porch steps.

After an hour, you decide to go ahead to where you were supposed to meet. You dragged your bike out of the garage and set off for The Edge. You petal faster and faster as you get closer to your destination.

The sight before you ruined your life. There Dean was, making out with Hillary Clements. Your supposed best friend. "What the fuck?" you screamed. Hillary jumped up and tried to explain everything. Dean sat on the ground, looking petrified. All you could do was cry and scream. You called them bastards, Jerkasses, anything you could think to say you said it.

~~~~~

"That was a long time ago, and you never let me explain myself. She came onto me. She sat on my lap and started kissing me. I couldn't stop her. I was trying to fight her off."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I promise, (y/n)." You both stand there not talking. "Let me make it up for you." Dean walks and and grabs your face. He presses his lips to yours. You can't help but melt. It brings back the memories of your first kiss.

He backs up, yet you didn't want it to end. "Maybe that was a little to early," he mumbles.

"No, no. It was just fine. Now what do you need?"

"It seems as I've already found it." With that, you forget that you were ever mad at him. In this moment, you are as happy as can be.