Believing

Written: 20.04.22

Words: 581

DeanxReader, fluff


You stumble as you hit a crack in the sidewalk and nearly face plant. You luckily catch yourself and look around, feeling your cheeks heat up, stupid heels. You shake your head, before digging your compact out of your purse, checking to make sure you didn’t dislodge any of your carefully placed hair curls. Oh thank God. You sigh in relief as you see you didn’t mess up your hair and replace the compact, would’ve sucked if I did all this just for it to get messed up five minutes before he sees it.

You turn up the driveway and feel a small knot begin to form in your stomach. What if he doesn’t like it? You resist the urge to chew your lip as you climb up the porch steps, don’t think like that. He’s the one who suggested dressing up, remember? You shake your head at yourself as you go to knock, hand pausing in mid-air.

Why are you psyching yourself out? You know you look awesome. Don’t forget what that guy at the bus shelter said. You look smokin’! You swallow down your chuckle at the memory and take a deep breath before knocking.

“I got it!” You hear some rustling and hurried footsteps before the door swings open, revealing the wrong brother.

“Hey, Sam.” You give him a small smile and lean slightly to see around him, “… Is Dean ready?”

Sam gives you a once over, sly smile creeping up his face and he steps aside, “Almost.”

The knot in your stomach grows and you wonder if in your three hour getting ready routine you remembered deodorant. You go to take a step over the lip of the door and nearly face plant again, “Fuck!” You glare at it, “Stupid door.”

Sam catches your hand easily and chuckles, eyes on your shoes, “You sure that was the doors’ fault?”

You feel another blush creep up your face and try to remember what you usually do with your hands, “So, uhm… h-how’ve you been?”

“Eh, y’know,” The giant closes the door before walking the few steps over to the stairs, “Dean, c’mon! Quit dragging ass!”

“It’s called style, Sammy!” You hear a door slam before the blonde appears at the top of the stairs, wearing a three piece suit, “You know, you could actually learn a thing or two ab-” he stops mid-sentence as his eyes land on you, “Wow.”

You smile at him, smoothing your hands down over your dress, “H-hi.”

He stares at you for another moment, mouth still agape, before shaking his head, coming down the steps. You shift your weight under his gaze and try to calm your racing heart, unable to help but notice he’s yet to smile. He comes up close to you – close enough you can smell his cologne – but doesn’t touch you, opting instead to reach around you to grab his shoes.

Shit, you swallow thickly as you watch him slip them on, unable to hold back thinking the worst, he hates it. What was I thinking? Suddenly feeling foolish, you silently wish the floor would swallow you whole as he shrugs on his jacket.

He opens the door for you, wordlessly, and gestures for you to go ahead. Being so wrapped up in mentally berating yourself, you fail to see Sam toss a ring box at his brother, and the wink and thousand-watt smile the blonde sends over his shoulder as he follows you out, “Don’t wait up.”


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