Tag Boxer Dean

Consequences Part 4: Rabbit Punch

Aebli Leave a comment
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Uriel and Raphael make sure that Dean pays for his insubordination… with Sam’s bout.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Uriel, Raphael, Cas, Virgil

Warnings: Boxing Violence, gun mention, blood mention, hospitalization

Word Count:  3200 (Sorry. Worth it.)

Note: Sorry this got out a little later than usual. If you can believe it, even this isn’t the climax to everything. Let me know how you like it by commenting, reblogging, and liking my fic. I hope you guys enjoy it!

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Dean was buttoning up his shirt when Sam burst in.

“Jeez, Sam, can’t you…”

“Uriel’s goons are coming down the hallway.”

Dean and Bobby shared a glance. “Bobby, take Sam and get to the ring; don’t let him out of your sight. They won’t hurt him before, they might try afterward. Sam, watch Bobby’s back while he watches yours and get out of here. They don’t need to see you warning me.”

Sam nodded and waited for Bobby by the door, keeping an eye on the hall.

Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder, “Be careful, boy. Get out to the crowd if you can.” He and Sam left.

Dean finished his tie. He wasn’t going to rush. Maybe a little. He grabbed his hat and coat and almost made it to the arena entrance before they caught up to him, one running up behind him and two blocking his path.

“Come on, Winchester,” the back one said, poking something hard into Dean’s spine.

“I hope that’s a gun you’re packing back there,” Dean grumbled.

“No,” one of the front guys said pulling out his own pistol, “he’s just happy to see you.”

From her seat on the second row, Y/N twiddled her thumbs and bounced her knee waiting for Dean. He’d won, like what was agreed. Dean wondered on their way over if Cole was going to fight for real to go to the finals himself.

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N,” Cas chuckled.

“Oops. Why isn’t he back yet?”

“It takes a while to shift into civilian clothes. There’s a lot of cleaning to get the ring stench off.”

She sighed. “I’ll appreciate it… when he gets here.” She didn’t stop twiddling and bouncing.

Uriel pulled Dean into Raphael’s office, pistol whipping him to the floor. “You’re done breaking contract, Winchester.”

Dean rubbed his jaw and stood to his feet. “You said the win was mine, that Cole would take a dive. If anyone’s broken their word, it’s you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean,” Raphael growled from his desk, “you have been nothing but disrespectful. Uriel told me what happened this morning. Yes, you took your win fair and square, but you can’t leave the ring without paying your dues. Since Cole didn’t finish taking it out of your hide, our visitor is going to take it out of Sam’s.”

Uriel had the gun pinned to Dean’s ribs before he could launch forward. “You want me to pay? Then let Cole finish it out back. Sam stopped being part of the deal…ugh.” Uriel jabbed the muzzle further into Dean’s side.

“Just shuddup and watch. We’ve even got a perfect seat for you.” He shoved Dean towards a bar stool set up by the window. Dean looked down over the crowd and into the ring. Bobby was double checking Sam’s gloves. Dean took a split second to find Y/N and Cas, letting out a relieved breath to see her safe. Uriel forced Dean to sit down, then laughed, “enjoy the fight.”

The final people rushed to their seats as the announcer stepped into the ring.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our stadium’s trumpeter will play our National Anthem.”

Everyone in the stadium stood. Dean shot a look at Uriel as he stood too, but he didn’t turn his attention to the flag. He was too busy boring a hole into Castiel’s head, hoping that somehow he could get his attention.

As the Anthem finished with applause and whistles, Castiel looked up towards the office, growling to see Uriel backlit, and hovering over Dean’s shoulder in the window. He caught Bobby’s eye and directed him towards Dean, then turned to Y/N. “I don’t know how much of this you know, but Dean’s not going to sit with us.” He nodded up to the office, making Y/N gasp. Cas barely caught her in time to help her into her seat as her knees buckled. “They won’t kill him, he’s got to attend finals. They can still make money off him, but be ready to run just in case.”

The announcer spoke into the mic, “the officials appointed by the State Athletic Commission are: the attending physician attending at the ringside, Dr. J.D. Houston, the timer at the bell, Bill Stapleton, counting after knockdown, Bill Doty, the judges, Mike McAddams, and Captain A.R. Dowdy, and the referee, Balthazar Smith. The contestants: 10 rounds at 158 from Kansas, wearing white trunks with a black tracer, and weighing 183, Sam Winchester, the defending Cruiserweight Champion. And his opponent,” the announcer pulled a card out of his pocket and began to read, “from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing 182 and one-half, and wearing black and red trunks, Virgil Akins. Referee Balthazar Smith will now give the contestants their instructions.”

Balthazar stepped to the middle and ushered Sam and Virgil forward. He looked anxiously between them. He laid out the rules like he always did, but somehow the words “I want a clean fight” meant more. “Now go to your opposite corners, and at the bell come out fighting.”

The bell rang and the radio reporter in front of Y/N and Cas launched into action. “This is the opening round, and this is the chance of the spectators, as well as the fighters, to study style. This is a brilliant audience on hand, half of Chicago must be crowded into the space, and the other half listening at home. Movie stars, politicians, and of course the fans all squeezed into the hall here. They’re all watching Virgil Akins use his unique jumping-jack style. Referee Smith cautions him for a kidney punch Akins lands on “Law Breaker” Winchester. He shows no fear of Winchester; in fact, he’s bullying him around the ring to say ‘I’m the boss in here.’ They are matched nearly pound for pound, and looking like one of the greatest fights this ring as ever seen.”

Sam was taller than Akins, giving the smaller man plenty of space to hit him. Y/N couldn’t help but see how the smaller man used it. She could feel Cas’s nervousness, and she could see Dean watching them from the office.

“Akins landing punches like he’s the boss and he knows it. Winchester biding his time, learning his opponent. Beautiful long left by Akin. But he’s doing the most damage while in Winchester’s clinches. Winchester digging for the body, trying to lower that guard as he towers over Akins who carries his gloves high. Protects his chin well. Glancing right off the cheekbone of Sam Winchester. There might be blood early, folks.”

Dean tensed as Sam staggered back, stunned. He kept the smile to himself as his brother then dove back in. Every second he was watching Sam, he was hyper aware of the firearm in his back.

“Winchester digging with light left jabs. Akins using an up and down elevator style, now each pushing leather gloves into each other’s faces in the clinch. Beautiful right and a left hook, making Winchester coming back on his heels then; that was a stiff punch. Those thumps are the punches in close that Winchester had a great deal of trouble smothering. A champion, Winchester, but up against a very unorthodox boxer. And that’s the bell ending the first round.”

They sat in their opposite corners. Sam showed Bobby his mouth. It wasn’t gushing yet, but Bobby and Cas knew it could become a problem. Cas explained how it could possibly even choke him around the mouth guard if it got too bad.

Y/N watched Virgil sit in his corner and noticed him glance up to the office behind Sam. Virgil shrugged at something his coach said and stood up, sending up a quick prayer as the next bell rang.

“Akins relaxed in his corner, whether it’s phycological warfare or not, we don’t know. But he’s acting like this is just another outing. He doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s crossed himself as the gong sounds and comes out ready for round two. Winchester has suffered some cuts inside his mouth. He keeps circling clockwise around Akins’s best punch and his stiffest hand. The one that does the most damage is the left as Winchester staggers back again. Winchester is angry now, nearly puffing smoke like a bull ready to charge. Winchester, maneuvering to land his combination punches, steps back but Akins moves in swiftly. Gives him no chance to take a step.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean mumbled. “I know we’ve worked on this.”

Uriel chuckled behind him.

“Winchester bends down in the same kind of a bob as Akins. But Winchester is mostly fighting standing up while Akins bobs up and down as a very difficult target. Akins is a natural middleweight, but he’s gained some heavy muscle to fight at the cruiserweight level. Winchester reaches out and lands on Akins’s face, snapping his head back! The crowd cheers for Winchester!

“Akins grins through his mouth guard, clearly enjoying himself. Winchester disinclined to fight too much in the clinches. Referee Smith keeps cautioning against the whipping punch over Winchester’s shoulder. A blow to the neck is a strong reason for disqualification and for being disbarred from boxing altogether. Winchester has very little success blocking that. Both men are now trying to out-feint each other. Winchester keeps reaching down for Akins, who backs away out of reach of the taller boxer. Akins uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. And that bell is round two.

Y/N kept her focus on Virgil. Something about him seemed off. She watched him as he shot a look towards Balthazar, who nodded back.

“Cas, something’s wrong.”

The bell rang over her worries, preventing her from sending any kind of warning to Sam.

“And here we go, round three, still at the start of this match but it’s been hot. Winchester has held his own against the bouncing Akins, and Akins is not being kept down due to the height difference. Akins is out maneuvering him at every turn. Of course, what he has is a good punch in either hand and a lot of strength in those clinches. Akins really pounds Winchester with that left hook; you can see Winchester’s back jarring from the blow.”

Y/N turned with a shout into Cas’s shoulder as Sam was knocked into the ropes. She peaked out and whispered, “come on Sam. Hold him off.”

“Winchester still in the fight, but a little feeble with that right, shoulder hurt. Akins paying no attention to Winchester’s cut mouth or shoulder pains. He has his man really studied. Akins swings in with a right lead just as Winchester was feigning with his shoulder. Winchester steadies himself on Akins’s shoulders, rolling them into the ropes. The ref separates them, but no rest. As soon as Winchester steps back to ready himself, boom, Akins moves right in on him. Winchester needs a little bit of a moment to prepare an attack, and that’s when Akins takes the moment, breaking his opponent’s flow. Winchester over stretches his stance, cinching Akins’s arms where he can, but Akin reaches up to beat him around the head. He almost hits the ref that time. Akin seems to back just out of punching range, then Boom, shoot in.”

Dean laughed as Sam’s glove made contact with Virgil’s waist, sending him jerking upwards from the force. “This guy is definably yours.”

“What makes you say that, Winchester?”

“All cheap shots and no gut. Sound familiar, Uriel?”

Uriel replied with a low growl and tightened his grip on the pistol.

Y/N was not listening to the reporter anymore but heard it all as background noise.

“Akins is remarkably hitting powerfully with each hand, favoring neither the right or left. Winchester sets himself to move around and hit with a hard right only. Now he’s moving in retreat. He hasn’t had a hard shot at Akins’s head other than one or two times so far, and it looks like Akins is going to keep it that way. And of course, Akins is not cut up or marked in any way. He keeps back just enough to make Winchester overreach, then leaps in, giving him a little pat in the ribs. Getting in the closing minutes now of the round. There’s a champion in that ring, only time will tell which man it is. Winchester still pounding away, right down to the last second. His face is bleeding, and he looks groggy already, but he’s still rapping away at the body. Oh! And down goes Referee Balthazar Smith!”

The audience and judges leapt to their feet as Balthazar went over the ropes and apron. Everyone’s view of the boxers was obscured by the person in front of them, and the front row people were craning to see Balthazar. Virgil took the moment of distraction to hit Sam in the back of the neck, then upper-cutting him to explain the fall.

Sam fell to the canvas with a thud. The counting ref swooped in and made it to ten and could have made it to thirty before Sam even groaned, but there was too much pandemonium to get him off the canvas. There’s was a deliriously happy crowd circling Virgil’s corner, already celebrating the win.

Bobby jumped into the ring and pushed everybody back as the announcer lifted Virgil’s arm high. The crowd’s cheers died down as the doctor followed him in, cracking Sam’s eyes open. The doctor shook his head and motioned for the cot to haul Sam to the hospital.

“Well that was some fighting, wasn’t it Dean?” Raphael said, relaxed in his office chair.

Dean was fuming. He stood, even as Uriel pressed the pistol to his temple. “You won’t shoot me. All those witnesses down there? And how are you going to explain why the semi-finalist is dead, no matter which way you throw it?”

Raphael nodded and motioned for Uriel to lower his gun. Uriel sneered and twisted it. “Uriel. Put it away,” Raphael commanded. When it was out of sight, Raphael poured himself another shot of bourbon. “Even with what’s unfortunately happened to Sam, you are still owed a congratulation. You’re going to the Amateur Finals, well done.”

“What’s your play, Raphael?”

“Michael Mulligan. Smart kid. Young in the face, I admit. But he’s got a fighting wisdom about him. Beat our darkest prodigal to meet you.”

“Do you ‘not own’ this one too?” Dean mocked.

Uriel piped up, “you are correct. Not even the heat knows we control that canvas, and we are going to keep it that way.”

Raphael down the last of his drink then walked to tower over Dean. “You are going to lose one last time, then retire. Make it look good and you can leave with a shred of dignity.” His voice dropped, sending an uneasy shiver down Dean’s spine. “You will throw it, Dean, or I will personally pay a visit to Sam and your girl to prove my point.” He grinned. “Now go see your brother, I think he’ll want to be seeing you.” Raphael turned away like nothing happened. Uriel stepped out of the way begrudgingly.

Dean was off like a shot.

Y/N considered her stomach to be a strong one, but when she finally caught up with Sam at the hospital, she almost fainted dead away.

“How is he?” Dean croaked, catching her as she swayed on her feet.

“Dean, you’re alright.” She embraced him, shivering against him. She met his gaze, holding his face in her hands. “He’s really beaten up, Dean. The doctor hasn’t said how bad yet.” Y/N felt her heart shudder in her chest as he closed his eyes in defeat.

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Y/N surprised herself with how strong her voices sounded but kept going. “It’s not your fault. Or Sam’s fault, or anyone who is held under your bosses’ thumb. They are the ones deciding who lives and who dies. You have fought against their power and they are doing everything they can to crush you. They are afraid of you, Dean. You can’t stop now.”

“Y/N,” Dean choked, “they’ve threatened to come after you next if I don’t do what they say. I can’t keep doing this if you are at risk. I thought Sam would be able to hold his own, but they stooped lower than I ever thought possible. I can’t let them take a jab at you.”

Dean moved to walk away, but Y/N grabbed his vest.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Winchester. You need all the friends you can get right now.” She poked him in the chest, flicking it into his nose when he looked down at her. “Do you think they’ll leave me alone because you broke up with me? They may be a lot of things, but they are not stupid. I am safest with you, and Castiel, and Bobby, and Sam.” Y/N sighed and wrapped his arms around her before wrapping her arms around his waist. “You are strong with a support system. Sam knew what he was walking into, and you need people to watch your back. Don’t push us away.”

Dean chuffed and squeezed her closer. “How did you learn me so good, so quick?”

Y/N laughed into Dean’s chest. “Cas ratted on you. He’s worried you’ll do what you always do when trouble comes.”

“That jerk.” Dean rubbed his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head, whispering into her hair, “thank you.”

The doctor stepped out of Sam’s room. “Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean let go of Y/N, but held onto her hand, focusing on not crushing her delicate fingers with his stress.

“Sam is going to pull through.” He gave Dean and Y/N a moment to let out a sigh of relief before continuing. “We’ll need to keep him her for a while, and we won’t know the full damage till some of tonight’s boxing wounds heal, but I really think he’s going to be alright. If I could confide in you, though,” he looked passingly at Y/N. Dean nodded for him to go on. “It is of my personal, and professional opinion that this man’s injuries were not caused by an upper cutting punch. If you have anyone you can trust, I have enough evidence to prosecute his opponent.”

Dean thought for a second. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll keep that in mind and in my pocket. Thank you.” The pair watched the doctor as he left.

“You’re going to try, right?” Y/N asked.

“No. Not yet. It’s enough for Virgil, not for the top level.” Dean looked at her, taking in how her focus listed to one side. “No. Y/N you can’t go to the police. Not yet. You promised.”

“And your boss promised you’d win with no ramifications too,” she snarked. “Fine. I won’t go. But the second we have something I’m the voice. You guys are too close. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”

For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.

Part 5: Prizefight 

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@kittenofdoomage @supernatural-jackles @theriumking @mysteriouslyme81 @bringmesomepie56 @jpadjackles @sassy-losechester

Consequences: Part 2 – Caution

Aebli Leave a comment
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Y/N meets Dean for a date after his semi-finals win, after some convincing. Dean is warned about what happens to those who fight the plan.

Characters: Y/N, Jo, Claire, Dean, Bobby, Uriel, Raphael

Warnings: threats of violence, past relationship abuse trigger (separate from the first warning)

Word Count: 2500-ish

Note: This one wrote a lot quicker than the last installment, which you can read here: Part 1 – Ringside. Please let me know how you like, or why not, and any guesses as to how it’s gonna go. If you like my style, my requests are open! Be on the look-out for a few coming out soon. Now, enjoy…

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“You have to go!” Claire looked at Y/N, incredulous that her roommate didn’t want to show up to her date. “He’s going to the semi-finals… he’s hot! Why don’t you want to go?”

“It was an off-hand promise,” Y/N groaned, sinking onto the couch. “I didn’t know he was a… the boxer. I thought he was just some guy trying to get a date. Then in the hype from the fight, we set a place and time. I’m thinking clearly now.”

“No, you’re not,” Jo said. She hung a series of dresses on the door. “You’re panicking like every girl does before a date.”

“But you know what happened the last time I did something like this…”

“This is a different guy.” “A new start,” they said, overlapping one another.

Y/N looked back a forth between Jo and Claire. They were going to make her go, even if it meant they had to drag her there. A new start. “Fine, I’ll go.” She stopped their triumphant grins by pointing at the dresses. “I don’t know why you brought all those out; the one I wore to the fight will be fine.”

“Oh sweetie,” Jo said, dragging Y/N to her feet, “you are going to look perfect for tonight.”

“Trust us, looking pretty isn’t for the guy. It’s a real self-boost and since you’ll be wearing one of mine or Jo’s dresses, you won’t have to worry about ruining an outfit with bad memories… ouch!” Claire rubbed her arm where Jo slapped it.

Y/N laughed as they chattered plans between them, then waited for her input. They were good friends. Y/N wouldn’t have anybody else looking at her, waiting to hear her ‘okay’. If this did go sideways, they would know how to help her through it.

“Alright then. Let’s get going.”

All three of them squealed as Jo and Claire started to dress her for the night.

The summons was almost as ominous as Dean thought it would be: a quick call with a single command. He attempted to walk quietly through the arena, but his steps continued to echo through the dark space. Raphael’s office provided the only light, shining from one corner of the rafters except for two dark forms moving on the inside. Bobby was waiting for him at the door with a heavy pat on the back but didn’t enter with him.

“Winchester,” Uriel sounded surprised to see him, “sit down.” Dean sat in the only available chair, which was situated in the middle of the room. Uriel started to pour a drink with his back turned to Dean. Dean knew it wasn’t for him. Uriel took it instead to Raphael, who was leaning against the windows in the far corner.

“You know why you’re here?” Raphael asked, wafting the glass under his nose. Dean could smell the aged brandy from his chair.

“Are you the principle now?” Dean snarked.

“No. I’m your boss.” Uriel sipped the drink slowly, keeping his voice low and dangerous. “And when I tell you to lose, you lose. Not that KO from last night.”

Dean shifted in the chair. He’d never met Raphael in person before, but he didn’t like it.

“We lost money last night, Winchester,” Uriel chimed in. “I want to take it out of your hide, but Raphael’s got a better plan.” Uriel poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it quick, snarling through the burn.

“Cole gets a rematch.”

“What? You son of a ” Dean tried to stand, but Uriel pushed him back down and kept his hand clamped over Dean’s shoulder.

“A rematch. I’m leaving it up to Cole to figure out the particulars of why he wants one, but it’s also your second chance. If you follow orders like a good little soldier till then, I might let you keep your win. Otherwise, I’m going to tell some of the more obedient players to give your brother a visit.”

“Leave Sam out of it.”

“Can’t do that, Winchester.” Uriel squeezed Dean’s shoulder harder, then left to sit on the edge of Raphael’s desk. “When one of the team messes up, it ripples through the whole operation.” Uriel stood to his feet under Raphael’s glare.

“What’s it gonna be, Dean? You can win either way if you play along.”

Dean gripped the arms of the chair, almost wishing he could hear them splinter if he squeezed hard enough. But he relaxed his gaze and loosened his grip. “What’s the script?”

“We’ll tell you when it’s time.” Raphael nodded to Uriel, who grabbed Dean by the arm and pushed him towards the door. Dean had his hand on the knob when Raphael laughed. “See, following orders isn’t too hard.”

Dean turned to growl but kept moving instead. When Bobby wasn’t outside, he left the door open, relishing in Uriel’s harsh curse.

She knew she was early, but every minute felt like an eternity. The table for two by the jukebox was empty, reserved with her name on a tented piece of paper. She laid it flat at first, but now she was fiddling with it till it was shredded. Again, she checked the clock on the wall. He wasn’t late, yet, but damn did it feel like it. Did he have the same idea to skip out? He couldn’t, or the table wouldn’t be reserved. Right?

“Did he stand you up, doll?” A well-dressed man sat in the other chair, looking very much out of place. His grin was not unpleasant, but it was too big. Too bright. “What’s your handle? I’m Richard.”

“None of your business. I’m waiting for someone.”

“And he’s late. His loss.”

“Actually, he’s still got a while. I’m early. Your miss.” Y/N turned to face away from him, hoping he’d take the hint. Instead, he reached across the table and took her hands in his, gripping them tightly so she couldn’t get away.

“But a lovely girl like you shouldn’t be waiting alone, and not without a second opinion.”

“The lady said to get lost. Sorry, I’m late.” Dean yanked the man to his feet. Richard straightened his jacket as they stared each other down.

“Actually, you’re right on time.”

Richard twisted his head, “Dean ‘Raisin Cain’ Winchester. Out of the kennel for the throw last night?”

“Shut your mouth, before I kick it wide open.”

Richard chuckled, “what? You don’t want your girl knowing it’s all planned to a tee? A scam. A fake.”

“You want to see how real it is? Take a step out back and I’ll show you.” Dean and Richard grabbed each other by the lapels at the same time, but Y/N jumped to her feet and pushed them apart. She pulled Dean to her side of the table and wrapped her arms around his waist, positioned to defending and being defended by Dean.

“I’m not interested in seeing him bloody you, sir. I’m not interested in you at all. So get moving.” Her heart hammered in her throat as Richard grunted and walked out.

“If you squeeze any tighter, darlin’, I’m gonna get bumped down to a middleweight.”

Y/N let go of his waist, “sorry. I just ruined my chance, didn’t I?”

“Not at all. That was wonderful,” Dean laughed. “Just remind me if I get too big for my gloves that you could KO me in a heartbeat.” He helped her into his chair before hanging up his coat and hat and joining her. “Does that always work?”

“It didn’t at the fight, thankfully. It comes from a promise I made to myself.”

“And what was that?”

Y/N grinned, “stop being a polite doormat.”

Dean gave her a thumbs up and sighed. They sat in silence till Dean asked, “Hey! This is a date, isn’t it? Do you want dessert first or last?”

“Please?” Y/N thought back to some of the phrases Jo and Claire had taught her. Was this one of them?

“This place has the best pie in Illinois. Sometimes I eat it first so I don’t run out of room, but if that’s too strange we can wait.”

“No, that sounds perfect.”

“Alright, blueberry or cherry?”

He was a comical sight. Y/N could tell he wanted to wolf it down while it was hot, but he ate slowly to stay neat. In the meantime, she learned more about him, and he learned more about her. Just the basics. The dinner slowly emptied out till there was only the cook and the bar. By the time they ordered and their main meal came out (burgers with a slice of pineapple!) they were joking like old friends, but she could tell he was holding something back.

“Just spit it out, Dean.” She giggled as he looked around confused after having taken a huge bite of his burger. “Not the food, the question you’ve been holding back on.”

Dean nodded and swallowed, but thought about it for a minute longer before trying to throw it into the air. “So, I get the moving away from home and the freedom and the roommates. But why Chicago? You sound too high-class to be living on this dark side of town.”

It took her by surprise, deeper than the rest of the questions. She took a breath and tried the usual brush-off. “Chicago was less expensive than New York, so here I am.”

“No, it’s more than that. I’ve seen… I’ve had that face before. What are you running away from?”

She nearly choked on her drink. But his eyes were attentive and deep. And don’t get lost Y/N, or he’s going to think you’re crazy. “It’s not a what. It was a who.” She shrank back into her chair, questioning if she was really going to tell him. He reached out for her hand, and she gave it to him. The warmth and the small squeeze spurred her on. “Honestly I didn’t want to go to the fight. I thought I’d had my fill of seeing punches thrown.” The next words died in her throat, refusing to leave.

“I know the feeling.”

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. He nodded and looked away, but didn’t add any more. He didn’t have too. He gave her hand another squeeze then stood in front of the juke. Dean had paid enough to keep it going all night, but he switched over what was playing to one of Sinatra’s new albums. Come Fly With Me began to spin, crackling to life as trumpets started the tune. He pushed as few of the tables out of the way before pulling Y/N to her feet. He started swaying slow but picked up the pace as the music hopped.

By the time Moonlight in Vermont rotated in, Y/N was as close to him as she could be with their clothes still on. He led the way, turning her and swaying while humming along. But she couldn’t help but feel the questions bouncing around in his head as his back stiffened and he swayed out of time.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re stiff.” She smiled into his tie as his steps faltered, making a note to thank Jo. “You’re not swaying to the music as you were,” she continued. “Something in your thoughts is blocking your steps. Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean considered it. But she was too new, freshly escaped from other problems. She didn’t need his. Her voice broke through his wonderings.

“Say what you can. Your heart will follow.”

Dean spilled in one breath, “what would you do if… have you ever… I mean… ugh. I’m not very good at this.” Dean stopped swaying. Y/N placed her hands on his chest. They were so small and delicate. He couldn’t break her. “I’m sorry; I can’t.”

“That’s alright. But you still need to talk to someone. Somebody you trust.” Y/N ran her fingers under his tie, searching for anything comforting. “I talk to Jo and Claire about anything I’m not sure about. And I’m just a phone call away.”

Dean perked up. “Are you offering to give me your number?”

Y/N blushed. “Yes. But be warned, it’s a party line. It’s probably worse than getting spied on by the police.”

“Hey, mine is too. Same boat.”

“Miss?” the bartender interrupted the moment, and Y/N realized she was again pressed up against Dean.

“Yes,” she said, stepping back.

“There’s a call for you. A young lady named Jo?”

“Oh.” Y/N looked at the clock. It was half an hour later than when she’d said she be home. She ran over and took the receiver. “Jo?”

“How are you still there? We figured you’d be home or elsewhere by now.” Y/N heard Claire giggle in the background.

“Sorry. We were, um,” Y/N turned to face away from Dean, “we were dancing to Sinatra.” She heard him snort and start to gather their things.

“Alright. Will we be seeing you tonight?” Now they were both giggling.

“No. I just didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll be home shortly.” She ignored their teasing and hung up. The waiter waved away her coins with a smile and continued to clean up the bar. “It seems I am late for curfew.”

“I’ll call you a cab.” He nodded to the waiter, who nodded back and dialed. “And before we get interrupted again, what’s the number?” She laughed and wrote it on a napkin before sliding it into his coat pocket. He wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and led her to the door. They stood in the window until the cab honked. Dean handed the cabbie his cash, despite Y/N arguing that she could pay her own way.

“What about you?” she asked, leaning out the window.

“I walked here; I’ll walk back.” He chuckled at her worried face. “I’m Dean ‘Raisin Cain’ Winchester. I’ll be fine. And I might take your advice. So, thanks for that.” The driver started up his motor. “And Y/N, thanks for coming out.”

“Thanks for asking me.” She blushed and peaked at the driver. “I hope we can do it again soon.”

“I’ll call you.” He waved after her as the cab pulled away. His apartment could have been a block away or fifty. He didn’t care; every step felt like it was on air. As for Uriel and Raphael… well, he pushed them out of his mind. They could wait till daylight. Their damned plans weren’t going to bring him down now.

Y/N sprawled out on her bed still in her roommates’ date dress. Jo and Claire were whispering like giddy snakes in the living room, waiting for her to regale them with everything. But first Y/N wanted to remember the way he felt pressed against her, the way he smelled, his smile.

What couldn’t he tell her?

She sighed the question away. When he was ready, he’d say something. And maybe, if her luck held out, she could tell him things too. Things she hadn’t even told Jo or Claire.

Part 3: Undercard 

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