(A/N: Song credit: Taylor Swift "Style")

Chapter Fourteen

A few weeks later, things had finally calmed down for Emma. She and Sam had spent that whole night sitting on the porch swing, talking about what their future looked like now. They discussed their fears, their hesitations, their hopes.

They had discussed their options, but Sam understood when Emma said she wasn't ready to consider adoption or surrogacy yet. That she needed time to really process the news of her infertility. She knew she was far from healed, but she also knew with Sam by her side, she'd get there eventually.

He had been gone all week at some sort of conference and Emma was glad to have him home, to be wrapped in his arms again. They were laying on the couch, watching whatever outdated rerun happened to be on TV when Emma's heart stopped. She knew that sound; she knew that sound all too well.

She stood up so quickly it almost made her dizzy and looked out the window to see the Impala pulling up the driveway. She turned to look at Sam, confused as to why Dean was there, but even more confused by the smile on Sam's face.

"What…what is Dean doing here?" Emma asked, her voice shaking as Sam walked up to her.

"I asked him to come."

"You what? Why would you do that?"

"Because…Because I realized that you have given me everything I've ever wanted. You have put your heart and soul into giving me everything, and I wasn't doing the same for you. I was selfish, Emma. I wanted you all to myself, but I realize that that's not fair. You've given me so much, Em, and I returned the favor by pushing away something...someone you love. And I realized if I truly want to show you how much I love you, that may mean I have to share you."

"Sam. What are you talking about? Share me? You invited Dean here so you could play some kind of game of hot potato with me?" Emma asked, even more confused than before. "You have given me everything I want, Sam. I'm happy with just you and me, with this life we have here."

"But you could be happier. I want you to be happier. I'm sorry for taking that away from you. For keeping you from being completely happy. Now, get outside. He's waiting for you."

Emma couldn't do anything but stare up at Sam, wondering what kind of monster had replaced her husband. She'd heard the stories of shapeshifters and demons and was thoroughly convinced that the man standing in front of her, the man leaning down to kiss the top of her head, wasn't her husband.

"Stop thinking so much, beautiful. I promise it's me; I can go get a knife and holy water if you want. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm still your husband; I'll still always be your husband. I just want you to be as happy as you make me, Em, and I know that means Dean," Sam said, reading her mind like only he could do.

Sam all but pushed her out the front door but Emma stopped in her tracks when she saw Dean standing against the Impala with his arms crossed. She still found it hard to believe that the man in front of her was about to turn forty; he looked way too good to be that age. Sure he had more wrinkles, and he wasn't as in shape as he was in some of the old pictures Emma had seen, but he was still one of the most handsome men she'd ever see.

"Miss me, darling?" Dean asked, his face breaking out into a smile.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Your cologne," Emma replied with a soft smirk.

"Well, I promise you, this is still all natural, baby."

Emma was afraid to walk any closer to him, choosing to stand on the porch steps instead. She was unsure of what this all meant, what Sam had meant, why Dean was here. But she did know that a small part of her, a part that she hadn't even realized she was missing, felt slightly less empty. After the stress of the past few weeks, Dean's mere presence was a hundred times more comforting than his old shirt.

"I owe you an apology, Emmy. I owe you a lot of apologies."

"Yeah, you do. You and I don't exactly have a good track record with me standing on this porch and you standing in the driveway. I'd say we're kind of 'oh for two' on that one."

"Maybe we can fix that? You don't owe me anything; heck, I probably don't even deserve your time right now. But Sammy hunted me down this week and told me that he and I needed to hash things out, that we needed to work past all of our shit. Said that you needed us to be 'fixed' so that I could come 'fix' you and me," Dean said, stepping forward so he was less than a foot away from Emma. "Said that shit you used to always say, that he'd been caught up in the fantasy of his future with you, that he let the flesh get hurt, that he hurt you. And I know I did the same thing. I did the same exact thing when I had my shot with you, and I've never regretted anything more, Emmy. I am so sorry."

Emma stood silent as she tried to understand what all Dean was saying. Her heart was beating hard enough that she could feel it in her toes and her breath was unsteady as she tried to take it all in. Sam had done this for her, had sought out Dean for her. Had brought him back for her.

"Look. Apologies have never been my thing. But Sammy once told me that apologies aren't always about being right. Sometimes they're about just apologizing. So this is me, starting to apologize for all the times I've hurt you. For everything."

"Well, for someone who sucks at apologies, you're doing a decent job. I'd give it a solid seven out of ten," Emma managed to say, her lips curling up into a smirk.

"I see you've still got jokes, darling. God, how I missed you."

Dean closed the gap between the two and Emma felt something she thought she never would again. Dean's hand gripped the back of her head and pulled her in for a hard, bruising kiss. It took Emma a moment to respond, to kiss back, but when she did, it felt like she was finally complete. Like that little piece of her that had been missing was finally back where it belonged and she was whole again.

"I'm a married woman, y'know," Emma teased as their lips finally pulled apart.

"Don't worry; I got a signed permission slip," Dean said with his signature smirk.

"So...how does this all work? What does this mean?"

"Like I have any idea. The girls I go for...they usually have ex-husbands, not ones they're still married to," Dean said, earning himself a playful smack on the chest. "Plus Sammy's the one who does the research. I'm more of the kiss first, ask questions later kind of guy."

When the pair walked into the house, they found Sam sitting at the dining table with a beer, having tried to give them some privacy. Emma let go of Dean's hand to go over to her husband, walking into his open arms. Sam pulled her down into his lap, bringing his lips to her forehead as she leaned into his chest.

"Thank you, Sam," Emma said, unable to come up with any better words.

"Anything for you, Em. Anything."

"So this is how the other half lives, huh?" Dean asked, his eyes scanning the house from the other side of the room. "I'm happy for you, Sammy. I really am."

"Thanks, Dean. That means a lot," Sam replied, holding out a beer for his brother which he happily accepted.

"So, how does this work, Sam? I mean, what exactly is happening here? Where do we go from here?" Emma finally asked, unable to wait any longer.

"Well, I've look into it," Sam said, earning him a chuckle from Dean, "and a lot of people say to just do what feels right for us. So I was thinking, maybe...maybe we could turn the guest room into Dean's room? And then kind of go from there? See what feels right? I can't say I'm well versed in the lore of sharing your wife with your brother."

"The worst part of that is I'm sure the bunker actually has a book on that," Dean joked. "But I guess Ohio isn't too bad a place to come home to after a hunt."

"So you're still going to hunt?" Emma asked.

"Somebody's got to, right? Got to save the damsels in distress in dark alleys and abandoned barns?" Dean replied with a smirk. "Y'know, though, I'm actually getting pretty tired of it. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm not getting any younger, and hunting really isn't the same without you, Sammy. Maybe I should join the 'live until we're ninety and die in our sleep' business. I wouldn't mind finding a job at some shop and spending my days underneath a car. And then my nights underneath a hot redhead."

"Woah. Dude. That's my wife you're talking about. I think one of the first rules should be that I don't have to hear about whatever you two do together. Let me keep some piece of my sanity, please."

"First rule of Emma-club. Got it."

"And rule number two is you better not hurt her, Dean. Not again."

"Learned my lesson on that one, trust me. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but losing Emmy was by far one of the worst one. But I don't think I ever stood a chance against your gigantor ass anyways; that damn hair of yours is some kind of damn chick magnet that I can't compete with."

Emma was mostly silent as Sam and Dean bantered with each other. She had never seen their relationship before they had their falling out, but she hoped this was what it was like. She could tell they still had some stuff to work through, to talk about, but the fact that they could stand to be in the same room together warmed her heart. And even if they weren't ready to admit it, even if they never admitted it, she knew they loved each other. And she knew they loved her.

It had taken the three of them a little while to smooth out the dynamics of their new relationship. Beyond the already established rules one and two, they had quickly agreed on a 'no common areas' rule, promising to keep all extracurricular activities in the bedroom. Emma still slept with Sam most nights, loving the feeling of falling asleep with her husband's arms wrapped tight around her, but she made sure to not neglect Dean, to include his relationship needs in the balance.

The first two weeks after Dean moved in, despite everything in her wanting nothing more than to hole herself up with him and get reacquainted with his body, Emma refrained from doing so out of respect for Sam. Even though she knew they had his blessing, she had his support, it still felt wrong to her. Like she was cheating on the man she loved so much. It wasn't until Sam quite literally kicked her out of bed one night, saying he was tired of the three of them walking on eggshells, that she had given into her desires.

That night had been so much better than any of her fantasies, than any of her memories. While sex with Sam had never been boring, never been unsatisfying, even after so much time had passed, Dean knew exactly how to push her to new heights. The feel of his body on top of her, his cock inside of her, his lips on her skin was almost more than Emma could handle.

But despite their physical relationship, what Emma loved most about having Dean there was just having him near again. It was hearing his loud chuckle as they watched TV, it was seeing his signature smirk as he teased her, it was the way he chugged his beer after a long day of helping her in the garden. And it was the endless supply of shirts for her to steal. While she still wore Sam's shirts on occasions, she had missed the feeling of Dean's soft t-shirts and the smell she could only describe as 'all natural Dean'.

The public aspect of their relationship had been harder to work out. While Ryan was happy for her, for the three of them, Emma knew that the majority of people wouldn't understand. In fact the only person in her family she had been willing to tell was her grandmother. The older woman had immediately understood and was more than happy for them, but Emma knew the rest of her family would never understand. So instead of explaining, she told them that Dean was moving in to be closer to his brother and that she and Sam had more than enough room for him. They just didn't need to know what Emma and Dean got up to in that room.

The three of them often went out together, which had made Emma nervous the first few times, but they managed to find a balance, as they had with everything else. Dean had never been much for public displays of affection, and while Emma reminded him he was far from second fiddle, he recognized that Sam was Emma's husband and often took a step back in public. He let Emma introduce his as merely her brother-in-law when Sam was around.

Early on, Emma had told Dean that she didn't mind if he saw other people, if he sought out a more conventional relationship, but he had scoffed at the idea, saying that she was all he needed. And Emma noticed that everywhere they went, with or without Sam, Dean only had eyes for her. And at his fortieth birthday celebration it was no different.

Emma had decided to go out, just the two of them, to celebrate and that of course meant karaoke. Since the city was such a far drive from the house, she had also booked a room at a motel for them to share that night so he had her undivided attention. She was practically buzzing, waiting for her turn at the mic so she could serenade Dean. While he was happy to be out with her, Emma could tell that he was grumpy about being as old as he was, and she wanted him to have some fun.

"Up next we have Emma, who has asked that this song be dedicated Dean, the birthday boy."

Emma jumped up, blowing Dean a kiss as she stepped on the stage. A few weeks back, as the three of them were enjoying a few beers after dinner, Sam had accidentally let it slip that a case had led Dean to be a Taylor Swift fan and Emma wanted to make sure Dean knew she'd never forget that tidbit. As the intro started, she saw Dean groan, rubbing his hand down his face, and she couldn't help but laugh as she started to rock her hips back and forth.

"Midnight. You come and pick me up, no headlights. Long drive. Could end in burning flames or paradise."

Emma laughed again at the pained look on Dean's face as she put him on the spot. At first he shook his head in defeat before shrugging and starting to rock in beat with the music.

"You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye," Emma sang, putting emphasis on the 'Dean', "and I got that red lip, classic thing that you like. And when we go crashing down, we come back every time. 'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style."

Emma's eyes were glued to Dean's as she rocked to the music, throwing in a hair flip that she knew he loved every now and then. She couldn't tell if the look in eyes meant he wanted to kill her for embarrassing him, or eat her alive.

"So it goes...he can't keep his wild eyes on the road. Takes me home. Lights are off; he's taking off his coat...hmmm...yeah."

Emma thought about the Impala every time she heard this song, this verse. She thought about teasing Dean, about forcing him to pull over, about fucking him on the side of the road. And she knew that as she stood on the stage, the whole crowd could tell exactly what she was thinking about in that moment.

As the song ended, Emma stepped off the stage, her eyes glued to Dean's but her step faltered when she heard the gossip coming from a nearby table.

"I'm pretty sure she's married and that's not her husband. I see her in here all the time with some tall, hot ass dude and just look at that rock on her finger. The birthday boy back there ain't wearing a ring. I know because I checked him out when I got here."

The stranger's words stung Emma more than she could have ever imagined. She hadn't even noticed that Dean had moved to stand in front of her, concerned that she had stopped before coming back to the table.

"That was quite a show, sweetheart. You'll pay for that," Dean teased, rubbing his hands down her arms. "You okay?"

"Yeah...yeah I'm fine. Let's just get out of here. I...I don't want to be here anymore."

"What's wrong, Emmy? I mean, I want to get out of here too, trust me. But I can tell something's wrong."

Emma looked down at her hand, fiddling with her wedding ring. It had never occurred to her before to take it off while she was out with Dean, that anyone would notice. But she was suddenly embarrassed for having thought that no one would ever pick up on the fact that she was out with someone that wasn't her husband. She tried to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, but she knew they'd inevitably come.

"Nothing's wrong, Dean. I just want to leave."

"What's wrong is she finally figured out that she's not as good at hiding being a cheating whore as she thought she was."

Dean spun around to look at the stranger who had interrupted them, his face tight with anger.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"I said, everyone in this bar knows you're not her husband. But I guess if I were a leggy redhead I'd get to have a few side dicks as well."

"You shut your dirty mouth," Dean threatened, moving towards the stranger.

"I think the only one who's got a dirty mouth around here is her. Who knows how many other guys she's fucking behind even your back."

Dean slammed his fist down on the table, sending multiple glasses flying to the floor. Emma jumped, just as startled as the occupants at the table, and tried to pull him back from causing an even bigger scene.

"Dean, just let it go. Let's go home."

"You better watch your fucking mouth. Sitting there all high and mighty on your damn barstool, thinking you can talk shit about my girl."

"Whatever you say, dude. We're out of here. You both need some serious help."

Emma finally managed to pull Dean away from the table where the strangers were gathering their things and she dragged him out of the bar. As she backed him up against the wall, she brought her hand to his cheek, trying to get him to untense, to calm down.

"That was so fucking hot, Dean."

"No one gets to talk shit about you, darling. No one gets to call you a…a…"

"Shhh. It's okay, Dean. They left. We left. We won't ever see them again. Don't let them ruin your birthday."

Emma brought her lips to Dean's, keeping the kiss gentle for only a moment before pressing her whole body against his. Watching him be so protective had turned her on even more than before and she was ready to forget the strangers and to give Dean the next part of his birthday present.

"I've got another surprise for you," Emma whispered in Dean's ear, her tongue sneaking out the lick the shell of it.

"Yeah? What's that, sweetheart?"

Emma reached down into the pocket of her coat, pulling out the key for the motel room she had booked them to hold it in front of his face.

"Magic Fingers," Emma teased, her voice raspy.

Dean pulled her in for a bruising kiss before taking her by the hand and pulling her towards the parking lot and the Impala. As Emma gave directions to the motel, her hand moved up and down Dean's thigh, grinning when she felt how hard he was already.

The Impala squealed as Dean whipped it into the parking spot of the motel and in what seemed like a blink of an eye he had her inside the room, pressed against the door. She wrapped her leg around his waist, her skirt sliding up past her hip and Dean grabbed onto the newly exposed skin as his lips and teeth moved down her neck. Emma pushed Dean's coat off of his shoulders, her fingers digging into his arms as his teeth nipped at her collarbone.

Dean pulled her away from the door so she could take off her own coat and Emma pushed him back to sit on the bed. Before she slipped off her coat, she pulled a roll of quarters from her pocket and raised her eyebrow at Dean. All he could do was stare her down as she walked to the bedside table and slid a quarter into the machine, causing the bed to roar to life.

She giggled as the grin that spread across Dean's face and she pushed him back so she could straddle him. It took her a minute to get used to the bed shaking underneath her, but Dean took her moment of stillness as an opportunity to take her shirt off and bring his lips to her cleavage. His hands found her hips and her pulled her down tight on top of him. Emma pressed her crotch down onto his, moaning at the sensation of his whole body vibrating underneath her.

"Jesus Christ. Why did I never know this was a thing before?" Emma said, moaning as Dean's erection pressed perfectly against her clit, even through his thick jeans and her underwear.

"I told you it was the greatest thing on the planet, sweetheart," Dean teased as he flipped Emma over flat on her back.

Emma bit her lip as Dean pulled back to unbutton his shirt, but she stopped him before he could slip it off his shoulders. She had learned recently that the second best thing to wearing one of Dean's shirts was him still wearing it while he fucked her. The chuckle she earned in return from Dean went straight to her crotch and she moved her hands down to touch herself, her skirt bunched up at her waist.

"Holy shit. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you are a god damned minx, woman. I can't get enough of you," Dean said, his own hands trailing up Emma's bare thighs as he watched her start to rub her clit.

"Jeans. Off. Now," Emma demanded, reaching up above her head to put another quarter in the machine before it could cut off.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said, giving her a joking salute before undoing his button fly and pushing his jeans and boxers down to the floor.

Emma didn't want to wait any longer to feel Dean inside of her so she pulled him down on top of her and pressed her hips up against his. The feel of his now bare cock against her soaking wet underwear made her want him, need him, inside of her as soon as possible. She reached a hand down to stroke his cock, smirking as Dean shuddered in response to her touch, and pushed her underwear aside with her other hand before bringing his cock to her core. When Dean looked down to watch what she was doing, he growled and thrust deep inside of her, taking Emma's breath away.

Between the feeling of Dean inside of her and the bed underneath her vibrating, Emma knew her orgasm wasn't far off. She pulled him down for a hard kiss before reaching up again, trying to put another quarter in the machine. She shrieked when she instead found herself being flipped over so she was on top of Dean, the shaking bed turning him into the equivalent of a human vibrator.

"Fuck. Jesus. That feels so good."

"You're not fucking Jesus, sweetheart. This is all me," Dean teased, as he slid another quarter in the machine with practiced eased.

Emma planted her hands on his chest, rocking her hips in time with his thrusts up, desperately seeking her release. One of his hands found her hip, gripping it just right, just the way she liked it, and the other wrapped around her neck, applying just enough pressure to sends shivers down Emma's spine. The feel of his calloused hand on her skin, the heel of his hand pressing on her throat just right, was exactly what she needed and Emma came apart on top of Dean, her orgasm ripping through her.

She reached over to put another quarter in the machine when she finally caught her breath, but she couldn't quite reach. The hand on her throat dropped to her other hip as Dean's thrusts sped up and Emma begged him to come for her. Not seconds later her did, crying out her name as he thrust his hips one last time, just as the bed stopped vibrating. Emma leaned down to kiss him softly as he struggled to catch his own breath, smiling against his lips.

"I was hoping I could get at least another round out of you tonight, birthday boy, but it doesn't look like you'll be up to it if you're this spent after round one," Emma joked.

"Oh, I'll be up to it. Trust me. A whole lot of me will be up. I'm forty, sweetheart, not freaking ninety."

Dean pulled Emma down to lay beside him, pulling her against his chest as they both relaxed, their breathing evening out. Emma looked at him, amazed that she was the one that he chose to share his birthday with, and Emma realized she didn't give a crap what strangers in bars said; she loved Sam and she loved Dean. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. All it meant was she got twice as much amazing sex as anyone could ever ask for.

"Anything else I can get you, birthday boy?"

"Maybe some jelly beans and g-strings" Dean joked, earning a chuckle from Emma.

Emma stood up to undress completely and splash some water on her face to cool down and she came back to find Dean under the covers, ready for to get some rest before the next round. Or so she thought, because seconds later, as she snuggled up to Dean, she heard him drop another quarter in the machine and she couldn't help but laugh.