"Mom, you're going to ruin your make-up, stay still," your daughter grits out as you're in the middle of barking out orders to everyone.
"B-but the flowers are—"
"You're going to mess up your eyeliner," she glares down at you, hand on her hip. She's grown so much and you feel nostalgic for a split second.
"Oh, sorry, sweetie," you sigh out. "I promise I'll stay still," you sit up straighter on your chair and lean your head forwards, closing your eyes.
"Mary just texted me that everything's ready and we still have to put on your dress," she mumbles.
"Is your father already there?" you question.
"You know how dad is," she rolls her eyes. "He was forty-five minutes early. I think that's a new record for him."
"He's nervous," you smile endearingly.
You brushed your hair in front of the mirror and do a few last touches on your make-up, smacking your lips together and smiling satisfactorily. Your boyfriend is set to come in just five minutes and you had gotten ready just for him. With a matching set of lace bra and panties, you were going to open the door for him in just that.
You missed him, he always seemed to be working and would often go out of town. Most of your relationship had been established through the phone and Skype, but you still cared for him, despite everything. You sighed at your thoughts, but quickly wave them away. That's a worry for another day.
The doorbell rings and you jump, momentarily startled. You quickly recover, though, and sprint down the stairs barefooted. An elated grin was already dancing on your lips when you unlocked the door and pulled it open.
"Ba—OH, MY GOD, who are you?!" you screeched, running to grab a blanket from the basket you kept in the living room whenever it got too cold.
"I'm your plumber," the strange man chuckled as he gives you a once-over. "This looks like the beginning of my favorites movies. We fit the parts after all."
"I-I thought you were supposed to get here at noon! I-it's nine in the morning!" you spluttered.
"Yeah, well, I wanted to get this job over with," he smiled sheepishly before smirking at you again. "You're Y/N Y/L/N?"
"Y-yeah," you squeezed the blanket tighter around your body.
"I don't mind you not wearing the—" he gestured towards you, eyebrow rising flirtatiously.
"You're my plumber, for fuck's sake," you said indignantly. "Don't you have any sense of professionalism?"
"Not when I'm faced with such a gorgeous woman," he sneered.
"Out," you suddenly yelled. "Out of my house! Right. NOW!"
"Alright, alright," he held his hands up beginning to step backwards until he stood right outside your home. You glared at him, making to reach for the door and slam it in his face. "W-wait, wait, so do I come back tomorrow or—"
He didn't finish his sentence. The door almost slammed into his nose and he jumped back instinctively, cursing under his breath at almost getting injured. "Crazy lady," he mumbled before walking away.
A week later, you find yourself grabbing some coffee from going to work. You had a book in your hand, trying to distract yourself from the memories of what you had to do the previous night. You had ended your relationship with your boyfriend, not being able to withstand it any longer. You deserved better than that and he wasn't willing to give that to you.
Your friends all gathered around you and focused on comforting you and making you laugh as much as they could. They knew how much he meant to you, but were content that you had finally decided to cut off ties with him and look for something better. You thanked them for everything they had done and upon your insistence, they had stayed the night in order to keep you company. The following morning, everyone had gone on their way, having jobs and meetings to attend to.
You sighed to yourself as you sat on an available table in the coffee shop. Opening the book to where you had last marked it, you began to read while sipping on your drink.
Suddenly, a man sat in front of you, causing you to startle at the sudden intrusion. "Hey," he grinned widely. "Thought—"
"No," you clenched your jaw, glaring at him and feeling your cheeks flare up in embarrassment. The last time this man had seen you, you had been clad in nothing but your lacy lingerie.
"Oh, come on, I know the circumstances of our first meeting wasn't the most ideal," he said. "And I know that first impressions are supposed to mean everything, but—"
"You hit on me when you were supposed to fix my plumbing," you gritted out, face hot.
"I'm sorry," he smiled softly. You'd later blame this on the fact that you had just broken up with someone, but you felt your heart skip a beat. You took a good look at the man sitting in front of you and noticed just how handsome he was, his eyes a piercing green and a lopsided smile to complement his sweet, yet cocky look.
"Uh, I'm Dean," he held his hand out. "Can we start from square one?"
"S-Sure," you smiled, accepting his gesture and shaking his hand. It was much bigger than yours and it seemed to envelope it completely. You felt the callouses of his palm and swallowed thickly, not really knowing how you were going to ever stop looking away from his emerald eyes.
"Awesome," he grinned. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
And that was how your fate was sealed with Dean Winchester, the man of your dreams, the father of your children, and love of your life. He knew you had just come out of a serious relationship, but unlike your ex, he understood you, he knew you wore your heart on your sleeve, that you craved to be held tightly, and to sometimes be reassured. And he did all of it and more.
Before you knew it, you had fallen for him and he for you. It was only six months after your first date and Dean was getting on one knee and holding out a ring for you, asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. You couldn't hold back your tears and knelt right down with him, nodding your head in acceptance because your voice had failed you.
"Mom, you look hot," your daughter squeals, running over to you and wrapping her arms around your shoulders, pecking your cheek.
"Well, that's all thanks to you, dear," you smile at her from the mirror, your hand resting on her forearm. "Now, we'll see what your father thinks... I bet he won't want to keep his hands off me."
"That's disgusting," she pulls away from you and makes a gagging face, prompting you to laugh.
You look at her in amusement. "You think you and your brother and sister came to this world—"
A knock to the door interrupts your sentence. "Hey, mom, Sammy, everything's ready. We can begin," your eyes land on that of your middle child's, Mary. "Damn, mom, you look amazing! Dad is going to have an aneurysm when he looks at you."
"You girls are too nice," you roll your eyes.
"Whoo, mom," your son saunters in after his younger sister, whistling. "Sammy isn't too bad on makeup after all."
"Shut up, Bobby," Sammy glares at her brother.
"Okay, kids," you sigh, glancing at Mary and Bobby. "Everything ready?"
"Yeah," Bobby nods. "Everyone is already here, you're the only missing," he holds out his arm and you smile widely at the three adults standing around you. They share so many of your husband and you simultaneously, sometimes so alike to him and other moments you'd swear that they were your clones.
You loop your arm through Bobby's as the girls take their place right behind the two of you, holding hands and giving you soft grins. You squeeze your eldest son's arm and he leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "You really do look beautiful, momma," he whispers.
"Thank you, sweetie," you kiss his forehead, nostalgic once again about how much time had flown.
You were celebrating your 25th wedding anniversary with Dean, and you felt as if only a few years had gone by. Your children were all grown adults, Sammy having just turned 17 two months ago, while Bobby and Mary were 23 and 20 respectively. It had only been yesterday when you had held them in your arms, seen their first steps, heard their first words.
"Can you believe we have three kids?" Dean stood next to you as you both leaned against the kitchen counter, looking on as your children ate chocolate chip pancakes that Dean had just made. It was a Saturday morning and the kids had slept in late after having a busy week full of school, homework, and extra-curricular activities.
"I know," you crossed your arms, sharing a look of amusement with your husband. "It's crazy, right? Just a few years ago and we were complete strangers."
"Hey, it's been like eight years since we met, relax, sweetheart," he rolled his eyes as you laughed heartily. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, pressing his lips against your temple. "It's been the best, honey."
"It has," you looked up at him and shared a smile before pressing your mouths together in a chaste kiss. Your display of affection was ruined by Sammy's giggling and Bobby's gagging noises. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled away from you to run over to the table and grab his son's face, peppering it with kisses that had him squealing and pleading for his dad to stop. You looked on with a grin on your face.
Dean stands to the side of the room, his hands fidgeting in front of him as he waits for you to make your entrance. He had previously been engaged in a heated debate with Sam, but as the doors open to reveal his three children and you, his world halts. Breath fails him as he takes you in. You look absolutely stunning.
It takes Sam's hand on his shoulder and a gentle push forward in order to get Dean to start walking towards you. Your eyes meet his and you smile widely as everyone in the room begins to clap. But the world is silent to both you and Dean. It had always been like that; it would always be like that. Just you and Dean, no one else.
You meet in the middle, hands clasping on tightly to each other and lips meeting in a soft, yet intimate kiss. He strokes back a strand of hair from your face and pulls away to take you in. He has to clear his throat before he can talk. "You look beautiful," he thumbs at your cheek.
"And you look even handsomer than at our wedding," you chuckle. "How's that even possible?"
"I'm fine wine," he winks, to which you snort, digging your face into his neck as you both laugh with each other as if you're young again, dancing together in the middle of a dance floor, the effect of a budding romance making you both shy yet eager to get to know one another.
Music begins to flow through the speakers and someone yells at the both of you to dance. Before you know it, Dean has swooped you up in his arms and you're in the middle of the room, swaying to the rhythm of a sweet, slow song. Dean is looking deep into your eyes and your heart is beating as wildly as it had been that first time he had pressed his lips against your own. You were utterly devoted to him, and you knew it was mutual as well.
"Here's to 25 more years," Dean whispered into your ear as he placed your clasped hands on his chest.
"And many more," you lay your on his shoulder, letting yourself get lost in his embrace.
