Chapter Text
“Sure your dad won’t mind?” Y/N asks while simultaneously throwing her belongings into a large duffel that’s sitting on the bed right next to Ben. The other bag is already filled with her toiletries and books for school.
Ben, the boy in question, is sitting next to the half empty duffel, scrolling on his phone. That dude seriously needs to lay off the two T’s as she likes to call it. Twitter and Tinder because when he’s not studying for school or eating, he’s on his phone constantly.
They had been best friends since she can remember, and Ben was probably one of her first memories. And right after that, there was Dean.
Dean was Ben’s stepdad who had met Lisa when Ben was only eight years old. At that time, Lisa was twenty-four. She was a teen mom and had basically raised Ben on her own. Y/N has to give the woman credit as she didn’t do such a bad job with it.
Dean and Lisa never married. However, Lisa had passed away a decade ago in a freak traffic accident, leaving Dean, who at the time was only twenty-eight, to become Ben’s legal guardian. Their relationship now was how a typical father/son relationship goes, Ben sending him occasional texts just to let him know that he’s still alive, and of course whenever he needs something.
She’d been sharing an apartment with Ben since their freshman year, and now they’re done with school, and technically she does have a space to go to grad school, only that she’s not even sure she wants to do it.
But that’s a problem to worry about later because as of right now, they have to move out of the apartment for the next three months. There had been some problems with leaks in the flooring and ceiling, and the landlord needed to fix it if he didn’t want the whole building to spontaneously collapse on him. Secretly, Y/N’s looking forward to not having to avoid one of Ben’s tinder conquests in the kitchen after they had spent the night there. Maybe he’ll really manage to tone it down when they’re living under Dean’s roof.
Moving to her own home wasn’t an option since her parents divorce. Both of them had moved away and it was hard enough to split up her holidays to somehow make it work so neither of her parents would feel neglected, so yeah, she couldn’t even imagine where she should go in the first place. Besides, she needed to stay around school because there’s still finals and then graduation.
Ben had actually been the one to suggest they move in with Dean, since his house was only thirty minutes away from campus, and even though she doesn’t like the idea of living under the same roof as someone she has had a crush on since she was a teenager, she really has no other option which wouldn’t involve spending a whole lot of money.
Crush might not even be the right word. It’s simply an understatement. The first time Y/N saw him was when she was fourteen, and she can not lie that it felt like the ground had been swept away from under her feet. The feeling of attraction overwhelmed her so much that she stayed away from Ben and his house for three weeks, simply because she didn’t really want to be attracted to someone who’s old enough to be her father. Gradually, she limited her time with Ben and only went to his house when she really had no other excuse, and if she did go over, she wouldn’t stay too long and slip out whenever Dean would come home. Yeah, she was a teen with a huge crush but she also knew that Dean didn’t feel the same, which is fair, so she just, like, tried to forget him. She also dated, but she never ever came close to the feeling she had when she saw Dean for the first time, so she just never really tried the dating thing again after some failed attempts.
When Ben still doesn’t look up from his damn phone to answer her question, she nudges him in the arm. Hard.
He’s momentarily taken aback and drops his phone onto the bed begrudgingly, knowing how much she hates it when he stares at his screen when she is talking to him.
“What are you talking about? He’ll be thrilled to have the house full again!” Ben chuckles as he plays with an old yoyo he found under her bed when he was bored with watching her pack. Y/N didn’t even know she had a yoyo.
Her hand stops mid air while still holding a bunch of her panties in their grip. “Wait,” she eyes Ben suspiciously. Suddenly, he tears his eyes away from her and finds the yoyo way more interesting. “You haven’t told him that I’m coming with you, have you?”
Ben scoffs at the yoyo, as if it personally offended him.
“Ben?”
“Y/N?”
“Dude!”
“What?”
“Did you tell him that I’ll be there or not?”
Her friend sighs, “Not in those exact words, I didn’t.”
“God,” she groans before approaching the bed to toss her handfuls of panties into the duffel, “He’ll tell me that I have to leave, I’m telling you!”
“That’s bullshit.” Ben stands up and stalks to the door, probably to do some of his own packings because he still hasn’t done anything today other than driving her up the fucking wall. Before he walks out of her room, though, Ben turns around, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. “Finish your packing, I told him I’ll be there tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles.
“Y/N?”
“What?” She pouts as she looks at Ben again who has a warm smile spread on his face.
“He always liked you, you know? Also, he thinks that you’re my girlfriend, so it’s totally fine for you to live there while I’m there.”
Before she can open her mouth to speak, Ben’s already disappeared down the hall.
Dean had just finished changing the sheets in Ben’s old room when he heard his stepson calling out for him, followed by a loud slamming of the door.
“Dean! We’re here!”
We? Who’s we? Ben didn’t tell him he was bringing someone along. Oh, great, that’s just great.
He lets his head hang a little at the thought of having to dust and change the sheets in the other spare room in a hurry. Not that he had anything else to do but cleaning bedrooms is really not something he fancies doing on a Sunday morning. Dean wonders when Ben knew about the apartment because he’s sure his stepson waited until the last minute to inform him. He got the text not even twenty-four hours prior.
Stalking downstairs, he meets Ben in the kitchen where the boy is already raiding the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of beer and Dean’s just about quick enough to grab it out from his grip. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you? It’s freaking 10 AM on a Sunday morning, you’re not allowed to drink until at least 2 PM in this house, got it?”
“Fine.” Ben rolls his eyes before sticking his head into the fridge again, taking out a can of coke instead, and pops it open.
For a short moment, Dean’s contemplating on opening the bottle he’s still holding in his hand. A beer sounds absolutely perfect right now, but he can’t be a hypocrite so he steps closer to his stepson and places the bottle back.
“So, who’s we ?” He asks while Ben’s already distracted by the bag of chips sitting on the counter which Dean forgot to put away after returning from the store early that morning.
The boy pops a chip into his mouth, “Oh, Y/N.”
Dean risks a glance back into the living room because he can’t remember seeing her there when he came down. “Uh, you sure? Is she invisible now? Do they teach you superpowers at school?”
Ben frowns before rolling his eyes.
Yeah, well, he probably did deserve that frown. His jokes are lame, he knows.
“Just saying that I ain’t seeing anybody else but you,” Dean shrugs.
“She’s in the car.”
“And why is she in the car?”
Ben groans, as if it’s the dumbest question, but honestly, Dean’s more than confused right about now.
“She found out that I hadn’t told you that she’s coming along, and now she’s freaking out because she’s afraid she can’t stay with us. Guess you have to tell it to her face in order for her to believe it.” Popping another chip into his mouth, Ben starts to chew with a shrug.
“Jesus, Ben! And you couldn’t have started with that? You just left her waiting in the car? It’s fucking hot out.” I taught you better than that , he wanted to add but it seems redundant, since yeah, at least Ben did bring her here instead of letting her sleep on the streets, he guesses.
So, instead of being mad at Ben, he goes out to see what’s up with his stepson’s girlfriend.
Dean spots her sitting in the still running car in his driveway, thumbing through her phone. She’s probably listening to headphones because she moves her lips as if she’s singing along to a song. Dean catches himself grinning because she looks absolutely cute.
Wait, cute? When did he start to think she’s cute? Jesus, Dean, shut the fuck up and stop thinking that , he chides himself.
Even if he’s not allowed to think that, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t true. He hasn’t seen her for a while, the last time probably at their high school graduation, and since Dean’s not the best at celebrating holidays — mostly because he always has to work during those — Ben didn’t come back, and whenever his stepson did come home, he came alone. So, yeah, it has been a couple of years, and he always knew she was cute back then. Dean was even a little proud Ben managed to land such a cute girlfriend.
He approaches the car and raps at the window, making her jump, her knees hitting the steering wheel while her phone flies through the car, landing in the footwell on the passenger side.
Dean flinches, feeling heat rushing to his cheek from the way he just scared the bejeezus out of her.
Bejeezus ? Do people still say that? God, he’s really lame. Ben’s not wrong about that.
Y/N stares at him, her eyes wide. For a flicker of a moment, her eyebrows knit together before her gaze hardens. One of her hands is on her chest, probably trying to calm her erratic beating heart. She’s only wearing a white tank top and he can see the strap of her baby blue bra underneath.
He shouldn’t notice this. Definitely not. God , it has been too long since he found the time and energy to go out and get laid, and now, it apparently shows.
The window lowers itself making him come face to face with his stepson’s girlfriend who looks cuter and more beautiful than he remembered her being. Ben’s indeed a lucky son of a bitch. Pride, as well as guild, and not to mention shame, settles in his guts.
“Hey,” he says shortly in lieu of greeting as his mind can’t seem to be able to conjure something more profound than three stupid letters. But hey, he managed one more letter than ‘Hi’ would have required, which is already more than he could have hoped for.
Dean’s trying, oh, he’s fucking trying not to stare at that bra strap, does his best not to think about the lace he sees through the fabric of her top. He tries not to spot if her nipples are darker through the fabric, and most of all, he definitely tries not to think about how she would look without that damn stupid tank top of hers.
“Yeah?” Y/N asks, her voice a little unsure and she looks at him while she nibbles at her bottom lip. She shouldn’t do that. It goes straight to his head. His lower head. The one he shouldn’t be using around his son’s girlfriend.
“Ben said you didn’t know if you’re welcome and I’m here to tell you that you are, Y/N.” Dean’s surprised by how steady his voice is. It’s so steady that she probably doesn’t notice the inner turmoil he is feeling while his head fights with his dick.
“Are you sure?” There’s that cute crease on her forehead again, and god, she’s pouting.
Instant attraction. He never knew it existed, but apparently, it does because seeing her makes his heart skip several beats, while an overwhelming rush of familiarity, and crazy sexual scenarios involving her, flickers in the back of his eyes, or maybe it’s a coronary, he doesn’t know for sure. At least he doesn’t smell toast.
Forcing his heartbeat to go slower, he swallows the lump in his throat before he speaks. “Pretty positive. Come on in, you’re getting a heatstroke out here.”
She giggles.
Fuck.
“Thanks, Mr. Winchester.”
“Please, call me Dean.”
Or sir, or daddy. Whatever you prefer, I can be that. Wow, get a fucking grip, Dean!
“Okay, Dean,” she smiles. It’s weird. It’s the first time she calls him by his name but already he likes it. Would actually love to hear her moan it, preferably when she’s under him, or over him, he’s not particularly picky about that. Jesus , he could use a drink right now to clear his head.
He grabs at the handle to open the door for her. “Can I get your bags?” He suggests.
“Oh, yeah, they’re in the trunk.”
Nodding, he makes his way to the back to retrieve them before walking up to her again with two large duffels in his hands. He jerks his head to the door. “Come on.”
Y/N ducks her head and starts to walk but turns around mid-step, “My phone!”
He watches her dash back to the car, watches her lean in, and stretches herself over the seat to reach for her phone.
Fuck .
Seriously, he can’t look away from the luscious thighs, and what he supposes, is a tight fucking ass. Dean’s sure those shorts are illegal in at least thirty-six states, or at least they should definitely be.
He’s going to die, he just knows. Living with Ben is one thing but he doesn’t think he’ll survive living with her. Get a grip , his mind berates him. And yeah, he agrees. He really does need to get a fucking grip.