Dean Winchester Imagines

A Christmas Kiss

LWord count: 1025

Y/N took the apple cider out of the refrigerator, smiling joyfully, while Dean grabbed four glasses from the cupboard. It was ten minutes before midnight of the 24th of December, and they were getting ready to celebrate Christmas with the family. Sam and Cas were waiting  in the library, where they had set up the tree and most of the decorations.

The Winchester brothers weren’t used to celebrations, but Y/N had changed that. She was grateful for the little things in life, and had shown them that when she threw a huge party for Sam’s birthday. This wouldn’t be her first celebration with the boys, but it would be the first Christmas. She was excited, to say the least, especially considering it was her favorite holiday. She had gotten presents for the three of them, but the one that had her giddy was Dean’s. Sam was easy, an old leather book written in the 1700’s. Cas was easy too, some blu-ray movies she thought he’d enjoy. And Dean’s… Dean’s was different. He shouldn’t be, his tastes were simple. And yet her feelings for him made her try her best, pushing herself further to choose the perfect gift, so it was hard. She had gotten him some CDs of his favorite bands and a red and black flannel shirt. Red suited him.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard the clinking of the glasses in Dean’s hands and his voice, “Alright, let’s go.”

He smiled at her, his green eyes focused on her face, before turning around and walking out of the kitchen. She followed right behind him, admiring his broad back and toned muscles. She was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t realize Dean had suddenly stopped moving, and bumped right into him.

“Fuck, sorry!” she exclaimed, the cider bottle almost falling from her hands.

“I can’t move,” Dean grunted in a low voice, seething.

“What?!” she exclaimed, alarm making her tense her muscles and get ready for a fight. Who could’ve gotten into the bunker? Nobody knew of its location, it didn’t make any sense.

“Hey guys,” Sam chipped in from behind them. Y/N and Dean both turned around with a startle and directed their gazes at him. He was standing a few feet away from them with a cheeky smile on his face. “Look up.”

Y/N did, and found a dazzling green mistletoe falling from the ceiling, hanging right above them. It seemed almost enchanted, decorated with twinkling colored lights, like taken out of a fairy tale.

“Damn Sam,” she began. “I knew you liked tampering with spells, but this makes you a witch.”

“I hate witchcraft,” Dean fumed. “Undo this now.”

“It’s not a spell,” Sam taunted, striding towards them. “It’s more of a trap. You know what you have to do to get free.”

Sam reached out and took the glasses and bottle away from them, fitting them in his large hands before turning around and briskly leaving the room. He found it funny.

“Sam!!” Dean bellowed. “Come back here right now or I swear…!”

“Seriously dude?!” Y/N complained loudly. “Midnight is in like five minutes!”

“I guess you’ll have to hurry!” came Sam’s voice from the other room, his tone jovial.

Dean cursed under his breath as he turned around to face her. Y/N’s cheeks were tinted rosy from embarrassment. He was so close she could smell his scent: leather and whiskey. She tried to take a step back to distance herself from him, but the trap Sam had set up wouldn’t let her.

“Hey,” Dean whispered, studying her face. “We don’t have to do this. I’m sure they’ll free us if we take too long.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she answered with false cheerfulness. His eyes were wide and alluring, the green glowing with the Christmas lights on top of them. She swallowed. He was gorgeous. “It’s not a big deal anyway, but I understand if you don’t want…”

“You think I don’t want to kiss you?” he asked, his brows furrowing. She could feel his gaze on her, unwavering.

“Well, yeah,” she responded. “I mean, it would be awkward…”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “It would be problematic.”

His eyes didn’t leave hers, and she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. He was mesmerizing. Her gaze traced his strong jaw, his scruff, his freckles… every little detail of him made her even more in love with him. And his lips, oh god, his lips. Plump and parted, as if waiting to kiss her. He wet them with the tip of his tongue and slightly leaned in. She could feel his breath against her lips, now realizing she had been leaning in too.

They were less than an inch away, and she closed her eyes, tilting her head back.

When their lips touched, it was magic. She was suffocating, in Dean’s scent, in Dean’s arms, just in Dean and she was in heaven.  His mouth was moving against hers, soft and wet, probing gently. She gripped onto his shirt to stay on her tiptoes, as he wrapped his strong arms around her body. They explored each other slowly, the outside world gone. It was just her and Dean now. Nothing else mattered. She had never felt so safe in her entire life. His tongue slid between her lips, slow and intense at the same time. The kiss was long and delicious and intoxicating, and when they finally parted, she couldn’t take her eyes away from him. For a few seconds neither said a word, and they didn’t move. They were so close her breasts were brushing up against his chest. Time had slowed down as her pulse quickened, and Dean was all that mattered. Only one thing caught her attention: the clock hanging on the wall behind him.

“Look,” she whispered, not wanting to break the moment. “It’s Christmas.”

Dean smiled, his hand caressing her face, tracing the outline of her jaw.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

And then their lips met once again, slow and gentle, enjoying each other and what they had been holding inside them for so long.