Two sexless days later and Dean has been on his best behavior. He still wants to cuddle in bed at night and touch you in familiar, couple-ish ways during the day, but considering the fact that he no longer acts hellbent on getting into your pants, you allow him to take certain liberties. And given your frustration level at still not finding a way to turn him back, you have to admit that it's nice to regularly be pulled into warm, reassuring hugs - complete with forehead kisses.
You and the rest of the team have been reading so much, your eyes are nearly crossed. For all your efforts, though, you've turned up nothing safe enough to try. You'd sworn that - between the four of you - you must have checked nearly every book in the bunker.
Then Sam informed you that you'd actually only covered about 10% of the texts.
Dean has been disappearing for long stretches of time while the rest of you research - presumably to watch TV or raid the vintage porn collection in his bedroom. Either way, it's easier than trying to read with him seated beside you, sighing and fidgeting in utter boredom.
It's evening now, and you're taking a break to grab some food (and rest your eyes).
You're standing in the kitchen making yourself a sandwich when Sam rushes in to find you. He's in such a hurry, he literally slides to a halt inside the door. You turn to face him while licking an errant drip of mustard from your thumb, but pause when you see the stunned look on his face.
"Whaaaatt?" You ask suspiciously around your tongue, which is still frozen mid-lick.
"I think Dean found it," he says in astonishment.
"Dean found what now?" You ask with a confused frown, but it quickly dawns on you. "Wait, you mean IT-it?"
You understand the stunned expression now. You didn't even know Dean had joined the research efforts. The only time you've seen him touch a book, he was curling his lip at it and nudging it across the table like a little kid pushing vegetables around their plate.
(Actually, come to think of it, he does the same thing with vegetables as an adult...)
"Yeah," Sam laughs in amazement. "I think he actually found a way to fix himself."
You abandon your partially-made sandwich and rush out of the room, hot on Sam's heels.
"You guys think it'll really work?" You ask as you enter the war room.
"I believe it will," Castiel answers, staring at Dean in barely contained surprise. "It appears that young Dean has found what we have failed to."
"Why does everyone seem so damned shocked by that?" Dean asks with a shit-eating grin.
"Um, maybe because you hate research," Sam replies. "You once spent three hours trying to convince me that you're allergic to it."
"Let's just say I'm...properly motivated," Dean assures and gives you a wink.
You smirk over at him in reply. Leave it to Dean to overcome his hatred of research when there's nookie at the finish line.
"Am I right in assuming that he is referring to sexual intercourse?" You hear Castiel ask Sam quietly.
"Any time his lips are moving," Sam assures.
"How the hell did you manage to find this, anyway?" Kevin asks, eyeing Dean incredulously. "You haven't sat still to read with us for more than 2 minutes since you started playing age-roulette."
You nod at the truth of that, but then it clicks. You laugh to yourself when you realize where he's been sneaking off to.
"Let me guess..." you say with a knowing smile. "Impala? Metallica blasting? Artery-slamming snacks?"
"Hey, don't knock it," Dean insists. "It's the only tolerable way to research."
"Should've known," you say before pointing to the opened book at the edge of the table. "All right, somebody show me what he came up with."
The guys take turns explaining the spell and its origins. It's going to be cast on the stone, instead of Dean, but you're still nervous. After you nearly died during the last effort to change him back, you've been both eager for and greatly dreading the next attempt.
You reach out and take his hand as you listen. He grips yours back reassuringly, but doesn't draw attention to the contact.
They're basically going to try and force the stone to reclaim the unnatural youth it's granted. It's a different approach, so they're not sure how it's going to work, exactly. Could be an instant fix, could take a few times to target the right age. There are very few ingredients needed. They can be ready in an hour.
Your stomach is in knots as you consider the risks.
A storm of what-if's rages in your mind. What if it goes wrong? What if it goes too far and he loses years? What if he dies? What if the last time you see one another, you are so hung up on the age difference that you don't even kiss him goodbye?
Seeing your growing anxiety, Dean chimes in. "How about we wait till the morning?"
Sam's eyes lock with Dean's instantly, seeking an explanation for the sudden 180. The brothers exchange looks, having an entire conversation consisting only of eye contact and subtle changes in expressions. Apparently, differences in age have no effect on their private language.
"Oh. Yeah. I mean, no, you're right..." Sam fumbles in reply as a look of realization passes over his features. "We should go over it again. Make sure we're not missing anything..." Judging by his agreement and the way his eyes briefly flit to you, Dean must have conveyed things clearly in silent-Winchester-speak.
"Smooth, Sammy," Dean snorts as he heads toward the door, tugging you along by the hand.
You spend that night hanging onto Dean as tightly as he usually does to you. And if you cry quietly against his chest for an hour or so over your fear of losing him, he doesn't call you out on it.
In the morning, when it's time to get up out of bed and face whatever the day will bring, you find yourself tracing his jawline with your fingertips and gazing deeply into his sleepy, green eyes. You're searching for that something in his gaze that you'd caught a glimpse of before. The spark that is irrefutably, undeniably the man you love more than the air you breathe. You just want him - your him - to know how much you love him and how terrified you are that you could lose him.
He holds your gaze patiently, allowing you to continue your search without question.
After a few moments, he reaches up and touches your face tenderly, brushing his thumb along your cheek. The action reminds you of him at 4 years old, not knowing how to make things better for you, but still wanting to offer you some small measure of comfort. It also brings back the memory of his hands on your face after the torture you survived - the adoration that had been in his tearful eyes. The sound of him telling you he loved you.
You lean into his touch now.
He gives you a warm, reassuring smile and says in a sleep-roughened voice, "It's gonna be okay, baby. Whatever it takes, I'm gonna come back to you."
And there he is again. Just the man you wanted to see.
You lean forward, pressing your lips to his and kissing him sweetly. He gives a surprised and intrigued, 'mmm' before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. Your hands move of their own accord, gripping the back of his head and running your fingers through his hair, scratching your nails lightly across his scalp. He moans and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking lightly. You reflexively deepen the kiss in response.
You pour all of your fear into the contact. You tell him without words how much you love him and need for him to be safe, how much you miss being with him.
The kiss gets away from you both, turning frantic and desperate until you're finally pulling apart to gasp for air.
He stares up at you in wide-eyed astonishment. His thoroughly-kissed lips hang open breathlessly - now red and even fuller than usual.
You wince and give him a guilty smile as you sit up and straighten your clothes.
"God damn," he breathes.
"Sorry," you offer sheepishly.
"Talk about incentive to get through this spell," he chuckles.
"Was really just planning on it being a peck," you insist. "My bad."
"No, no... It's cool..." he lies in a shaky voice. "Gonna need a few minutes before I get up, but it's cool."
You laugh and kiss his cheek sympathetically. "I just wanted to..." you try, but trail off.
"I know," he answers and reaches out for your hand, interlacing your fingers. "I love you, too, baby."
At those words, your stomach clenches. You recall the other times he's said that to you. The memories are too much and you have to close your suddenly-tearful eyes.
"Hey... Hey, come on. Don't do that," he urges softly. He sits up and pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. "We're almost there, right? Just gotta get through this. It's gonna be fine."
You nod against his chest, trying to believe strongly enough in his assurances to quell your fears.
"I got something for you," he says a minute later, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he adds, "But I'm not gonna give it to you unless you stop snotting all over my shirt."
"Shut up!" You laugh and punch his shoulder lightly as you sit up. "I am not snotting on your shirt."
He arches an incredulous brow and gives a pointed look down at the wet spots on his t-shirt.
"Those are tears!" You insist with a smile. "You're snot-free, I swear."
He grabs your chin, tipping your head back to inspect your nose.
"Hmm... Doesn't appear to have sprung a leak," he teases. "All right, I believe you." He kisses the tip of your nose before hopping out of bed.
You watch as he goes to the dresser - to the drawers he's discovered to be his own and has since been using. He shifts some clothes around in the bottom drawer before pulling free a bag that had been concealed beneath them.
"Sneaky, sneaky," you chide. "It better not be lingerie."
Dean laughs as he sits on the edge of the bed beside you. He sits the bag on the floor temporarily.
"Nope, but now that you mention it, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I picked out what you're gonna strip for me in when I get back to normal."
"Did you, now?" You laugh. "And what might that be?"
He grins and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket. He waits patiently for you to take it and focus on the handwritten note.
"Spicy Lingerie web site," you read aloud. "The 'I'll Make You Feel Better' 3 Piece Nurse Costume...matching thong, pettiskirt, thigh-highs... " You stop and look over at him with a smirk. "This is a tad bit specific, don't you think? Won't any old naughty-nurse costume do?"
"Nope. That's the one I want your fine little ass to wear," he insists. "And you gotta get white stripper boots and a vibrating stethoscope, too. You owe me big, remember? We had a deal."
"Vibrating steth-?!" You start to repeat in amused disbelief, but stop, instead shaking your head and holding up a hand in defeat. "All right," you agree. "Fine, a deal's a deal."
"Hell yeah!" He exclaims victoriously. "Oh, and you can't tell me about it beforehand. Make it a surprise. And when I see it, tell me it's a present from...you know, me."
"Anything else?" You laugh.
"Unfold the paper," he urges with an ill-behaved grin and eagerly scoots closer.
You sigh and shake your head, opening the paper and laughing your ass off when you find the entire backside of the page covered in scribbled instructions.
"I take it back," you say as you scan the words. "The costume wasn't specific. THIS is specific."
"But you're gonna do it all, right?" He asks hopefully, reaching around your shoulder to point down at the page. "Especially that... Ooh, and that..."
"Yes, Dean. I'm gonna do it," you sigh.
"YES! You're the best," he gushes before planting a rough kiss on your cheek. He leans down and picks up the bag off of the floor. "And as a little forget-me-not-at-this-age, here you go."
You take the bag and frown curiously at how obviously large, flat, and rigid the contents are. When you slide it free, you have to suppress the urge to let out a long, 'Aawww!'
The photo frame is designed to hold numerous pictures. He's filled every slot. You know without asking that he enlisted Kevin's help for this project. Probably Sam's, too. There are pictures of the two of you together when he was at his proper age (including the post-quickie shot from your cell phone), but that's not all.
One image shows you seated beside him at the table when he was 12 years old - both of you are laughing. Another shows him at 4 years old, curled up in your arms and peeking out at the camera from beneath your chin while you kiss the top of his head. There's a photo of you with teen-dream-Dean standing behind you, his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. He's grinning at the camera as you roll your eyes and smile.
At the center of the frame, there's an incredible, breathtaking, black-and-white photo of you and your Dean. It looks like a professional portrait. You're gazing into one another's eyes hungrily, faces and lips mere inches apart, leaning in for a kiss. (He's cropped the image in close enough to hide the fact that it's a selfie taken mid-sex.)
And over that center-piece image, in graceful, sweeping black letters, is the phrase, 'Love Throughout the Ages'.
"Dean..." you breathe, but trail off, overwhelmed as you press a hand to your chest.
"That's the good kind of speechless, right?" He presses with an eager grin.
You look over at him adoringly.
"Oh, yeah, I did good," he declares knowingly.
"Yes. You did very good," you agree and rest your head on his shoulder.
You sit together like that for a few moments in silence, just staring down at the photos.
"Ready to do this?" He finally asks quietly.
"As ready as I'll ever be," you answer.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! :) Be sure to let me know what you think! Did anything make you LOL or go Aawwww? Love it? Hate it? Want more?