*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

You heard the soft beating on the door and your heart started to race. There was only one person who knocked like that. Only one person who had the strength to make the knock echo throughout the whole house. And even though it had been so long since you'd heard it, so long since you'd seen him, your heart racing was the only reasonable reaction.

Especially when Dean Winchester was on the other side of the door. Dean Freakin' Winchester.

You opened the door quickly, and before you could even confirm that it was Dean, you threw yourself into his arms and let him catch you. Dean laughed, that deep laugh he always did when you greeted him like this and held you tighter.

"I wasn't expecting you to be home. Don't you normally work on Tuesdays?" Dean asked, finally prying himself away enough to see your face. He smiled down at you, fixing your hair while still holding you close.

You buried your face in his chest, letting Dean invade all of your senses now. "I do. But I took the day off today because I wasn't feeling well."

"You seem to be feeling fine." You heard his voice through his chest and finally looked up at him. He could see it now. The little redness to your nose that told him you had been blowing it a lot. "Ah, I see. Well I didn't mean to barge in on your day off. I just thought I'd stop by since I was in the neighborhood."

"No please! Come on in!" You moved quickly, letting Dean enter your home. He shut the door behind him and followed you to your kitchen.

He looked around, as if he hadn't been here many times before. "I love this place. Always feels so welcome and homey." He said, running his hand along your bar.

You laughed, popping up from the fridge with two beers in hand. "You say that every time you come here." You handed Dean his beer, and he took it without hesitation.

Dean sat down on a bar stool, his elbows resting on the counter as he looked up at you with those green eyes that just melted you. He hadn't changed a bit since the last time you saw him. Same hard and beautiful eyes, same puffy lips that screamed for an invitation. He looked more at ease right now than the last time you had seen him, his shoulders more relaxed but still tense, as if he was ready for something to happen in this very instant.

"I mean it every time. I wish I could spend more time here." His words melted your heart. He smiled, picking at the label suddenly embarrassed by what he had said. It wasn't a lie, he only lied to you about his life, he had to protect you from that. It was the least he owed you. You were so pure, so innocent. He couldn't imagine the face you would make when he told you what he really did. He couldn't imagine how you would react if he had to. He was thankful that so far, nothing had happened to you.

Dean never stayed for more than a night. He'd often tried to stay for a day or two, but to no avail. "Why don't you?" You asked, your voice low. You'd wanted him to stay longer. Long enough to get one of those long conversations in like you used to.

"You know I work a lot." Dean admitted. Picking at the label on his beer. It wasn't a lie, he worked a lot. Case after case, road trip after road trip. He'd leave Sam all alone in that hotel room waiting for his return. Sam never asked, Dean sort of just hoped that at this point Sam just knew where he was. But Dean could never be too sure about that. Since he never brought it up and wasn't about to any time soon.

You were his little secret. His little get away from his reality. And you didn't mind at all. The mystery of Dean was what drew you to him in the first place. How could you complain? A tall handsome man shows up at your doorstep and the rest is well, bliss.

"Well we should make the best of the time we have. What would you like for dinner?" You asked, leaning down on the counter. Dean couldn't help but look at your chest, your low cut top revealing just what he wanted to see. You did this on purpose, you knew what it would do and you didn't mind at all.

Dean licked his lips. "Anything you make will be better than what I've been having."

You laughed. "Okay. Hungry now? Or hungry later?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

It didn't take long for you and Dean to find yourselves in your room. Clothes falling around you as you both struggled to clear the boundaries between you. This, even though you hated admitting it, was another reason you couldn't say no to Dean.

The heat of his skin against yours. The way his full lips pressed into yours and made your knees grow weak. His hands roaming your body, as if he forgot and needed to remember all over again. Every part of Dean drove you crazy, every part of him made you want more.

He lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist. You giggled, suddenly scared of your new found height. This didn't stop Dean though, no this encouraged him. Your laughing, it drove him crazy. He never understood it. If anyone else were to laugh in this instance, or any other that were about to take place, he wouldn't like it. But you, your little giggle, the way your chest bounced, and your face grew red, it made him crave more.

Dean's lips found your neck, placing small and warm kisses against it as he walked forward. Dean didn't forget this room. He knew, 5 steps forward and there would be your bed. The bed covered in pillows that he hated throwing on the floor. 4 steps to the right and there would be your dresser, a picture of you as a child laughing with your now dead mother would be watching him the whole time. God he hated that picture.

He lowered you on the bed, your back firmly pressing into your blankets. He never left you. His warm body pressing harder into yours. You could feel every muscle as he moved. Dean trailed kisses all over you, memorizing your skin for what seemed like the millionth time. And yet every time he did it you loved it more.

It was bliss, wonderful and amazing bliss. And you couldn't ask for more.

Dean slept at your side, soft little snores coming from his barely open mouth. You watched as his chest rose and fell a few times. Counting his heart beat as he lay there. This was your favorite version of Dean. Not because he was sleeping, but because he seemed so open, so calm, so at ease. It was refreshing compared to his hard exterior, his act of being the tough guy all the time.

It didn't take long for his phone to start buzzing, as it always did after he was here for so long. But he hadn't heard it, he slept right through it. You rolled out of bed carefully and slowly. Grabbing at the first article of clothing you could find and slipping into it. You welcomed the scent of Dean as you lifted his shirt over your head.

You left the room as quietly as you could. Making your way down to the kitchen where you started to cook dinner.

Dean woke up alone, a blanket barely covering his naked body. He'd almost forgotten where he was, until he turned to his side and saw the picture of you as a kid. He couldn't help but lay it down, it gave him the creeps. Mainly because he remembered that time, he may have been a kid also, but he never forgot the first time he met you. John couldn't keep you two apart, you were like little love sick puppies even back then.

He sighed, getting out of the bed, and slipping into his jeans. He smiled, knowing that you were wearing his shirt, wherever you were. He searched for you, not that it took him too long; he could smell the wonder that was a home cooked meal the second he made his way into the hall way.

Dean watched you from the doorway, a smile on his lips as you walked around without knowing he was there. He could get used to this, used to real meals, used to you in the kitchen, used to you everywhere only wearing his shirt. He felt a twinge of pain, since he knew it never could happen. For so many reasons, so many things keeping him from this life.

He cleared his throat, and as you turned around, your face grew a shade of red that he had never seen before. "Oh, Y/N, I didn't mean to scare you." He raised his hands as he took a few steps towards you.

You tried to look away, but Dean was nearing you, his chest fully exposed for you to look at, and you did. "I just thought you'd still be sleeping." You said, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a squeeze.

"Whatever you are making it smells awesome." Dean peaked over your head at your cooking, anxious to see what it was he was going to eat. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled.

You laughed, and that familiar warmth deep inside Dean woke up again, "It's almost ready. Take a seat."

Dean did as he was told, taking a seat at the counter so he could watch. Dean felt the familiar pain again, the one to remind him not to get too comfortable. The one that let him know this was to "normal" for him. And yet he felt at ease here, he couldn't help but want this for himself. Even if it could never happen.

"Here ya go!" You said, placing a plate of food in front of Dean. Dean's mouth watered, his eyes widened, and once more his stomach grumbled. "Don't wait, dig in." You turned around, making your own plate before joining him.

Saying goodbye to Dean was always the hardest. You both would stand at the door, not ready for Dean to walk out just yet. He'd kiss you, not like he had earlier, no. This kiss was tender, full of something other than lust. But you didn't know that.

Dean didn't like this part either. He liked the comfort of your home. Liked the way he felt in here, liked the way he seemed to fit in with ease. So he held on to you for as long as he could. Holding you close, kissing you gently. Because he knew he could break you. He knew that one day he wouldn't just "be in the neighborhood." He lived a dangerous life, one where he never knew if it was his last day. So when he was with you he tried to savor the moments, tried to remember everything because he never knew when he'd get to do this again.

It'd become like a little dance now. One you both knew every move to. You'd walk to the door, fingers interlocked with one another. He'd pull you close, his fingers leaving your hand and finding themselves tangled in your hair. He'd hold you there, but it never seemed like long enough, you never got enough of him no matter how long he was here.

"I have to go now." He'd say, but he'd kiss you once more. Lips needing one last taste of you. "I mean it." He'd add, but he'd squeeze you tighter in his arms. "Okay last kiss, and then I really have to go." So, he'd kiss you, long and slow. He'd memorize your lips, your taste and the way your body melted into him.

And then he'd leave. Just like that. Out the door he would go, and all you'd have is the low rumble of his car as it drove down the street.

Dean had left in such a rush that he hadn't noticed he left his phone, but there it sat in all its glory next to his empty plate of food. He'd practically licked the plate clean and set it back down. Because afterward he all but ran out of the place, asking you for his shirt and meeting you at the door.

You'd never felt the need to go through Dean's things. Dean led his life the way he wanted, and you didn't question it ever. So when you were scrolling through his contacts, hoping to find someone that you could call to return Dean's phone to him, it hurt to see some of them.

So many girls names, so many vague things like 'girl from the bar' or 'girl with the long brown hair.'

The pain in your chest was almost unbearable. And yet your hands kept searching the device. You found your way to his texts, to his calls, to anything and everything and only stopped when you had seen all you could. It wasn't once, it wasn't a one and done. No. Dean Winchester was cheating, had been cheating, and was on his way to someone else right now.

You ached, you felt sick. Suddenly everything was slowed. You fell to the floor, his phone still locked in your hand. You didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to think. All you knew was the last text message, sent only a few moments ago, was to another girl, a 'met at the bar last night' and that Dean had told her once he could get away, he'd be on his way to see her; with a winky face.

You didn't expect Dean to be a saint, you knew who he was after all. But this hurt. More than you wanted it too. You loved Dean, you knew it was crazy. This man, who only came around every so often, he drove you crazy. There wasn't any other way to describe it.

You could put this behind you, even if it felt like it was breaking you, slowly making you crumble from the inside. Dean had to have an explanation, something that would or could put your mind at ease. This wasn't your Dean, your Dean talked about staying, about how happy his life would be with you. Your Dean wouldn't ever do this. Your Dean was a kid again, carving his name into a tree with yours. Your Dean was promises that he would always come around when you needed him, even if you thought you didn't.