July 11th, 2005

Morning in Blairsville, GA dawned bright and early, and the thin motel curtains did little to dampen the sunlight streaming in through the window. There was an instinct to try and ignore it… find a way to slip back into dreamland… especially as he became aware of the dull pounding in his head and the way his mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton. But the warm press of Lorelai's body against his beneath the tangled sheets was all Dean needed to decide he might prefer being awake.

The eight-hour drive from Warm Springs had turned to at least ten with traffic, though Lorelai's presence had made it more bearable. She was easy to talk with whether they were lightheartedly trying to one-up each other with stories of best pranks pulled on their siblings and debating the merits of horror movies vs thrillers, or they were solemnly recounting their worst stories of the people they couldn't save and the hunts that still haunted them. Her enthusiasm over junk food when they'd stopped for gas and the classic rock Dean blared from the radio had just been the icing on the cake. Still, by the time they got to town both of them were feeling a little restless, especially after having spent the previous day mostly in bed while Lorelai recovered.

It had been Lorelai to suggest they hit the bar and say fuck it about the case until the next day, but Dean hadn't argued. He wasn't sure what it had been – if he'd missed some shift in Duncan Falls, or if it was because it had been almost two months since their shared profession had come out and he was still there… maybe it had something to do with her brush with death, which had certainly left him rattled… or hell, maybe it was just the mind-blowing sex – he didn't know. What he did know was that something had changed, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He could tell she was still wary, still guarded, but it had given way to allow for some kind of acceptance that left Dean feeling like he was floating.

He was still barely conscious when Lorelai bega to stir herself, nestling further into him and using his torso to block the light from her own eyes. Dean couldn't help the affectionate smile that spread across his face, and he found himself shifting deeper into the pillows, turning slightly towards her to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

"'Morning, sweetheart. How's the head?"

The room still bore evidence of their activities the night before – clothes haphazardly strewn across the floor showing the path they'd taken from the door to the bed, his keys hanging precariously off the side of the table by the window, the lampshade askew from when one of them had fumbled to turn it on. There was a pleasant soreness in his muscles reminding him the hangover was worth it, memories of Lorelai matching him shot for shot and helping him hustle a group of locals at the pool table swimming in his head.

Lorelai grumbled something unintelligible, and Dean chuckled.

"That good, huh?" There was half a beat but then Lorelai shifted again, just enough that she could look up at him. Her eyes were still clouded with sleep, slight black smudges under them, but a smirk emerged, and she shrugged.

"I've had worse. Nothing some coffee won't fix."

"Pretty sure that's your answer for everything."

"Now you're catching on," she quipped, her smirk morphing into a wry smile. Dean huffed a laugh and brought a hand up to her face, pushing some of her hair back. Their lips met in a brief kiss, but Lorelai quickly backed off when he tried to deepen it, her nose scrunched adorably.

"I can taste how bad my breath is," she told him, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, damn. Obviously, that makes all the difference."

He didn't wait before pressing his lips against hers again and this time she didn't resist, letting his tongue glide along hers and then moving with him. She tasted like stale whiskey but Dean figured he did too and definitely didn't give a shit. He was much more concerned with the feel of her skin against his and the way her body responded to his touch. Desire was already pooling low in his gut and he let his hands roam over her soft skin, tracing the curves of her body he'd become so familiar with over the past few months.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured against her lips, earning a soft chuckle from Lorelai.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Winchester," she laughed, nipping at his bottom lip.

Dean grinned, rolling them so that Lorelai was beneath him. He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at her with undisguised adoration. Her dark hair was splayed across the pillow, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. He'd missed mornings like this with her. He wanted more of them.

"That so?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "In that case, have I mentioned how incredibly sexy you are?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes, but Dean could see the faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice," she teased.

Dean dipped his head, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Lorelai arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips as he found that sensitive spot just below her ear. He lingered there, alternating between gentle nips and soothing licks, reveling in the way she squirmed beneath him.

"Dean," she breathed, her fingers threading through his hair.

He hummed against her skin, continuing his path downward. His lips brushed across her collarbone, then lower still, until he reached the swell of her breast. Lorelai's breath hitched as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

Dean took his time, lavishing attention on each breast in turn. Lorelai's soft gasps and moans were music to his ears, spurring him on. His hand slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, his fingers ghosting over the jagged scar, before dipping between her thighs.

"Fuck," Lorelai hissed as his fingers brushed against her slick folds.

Dean groaned at how wet she already was for him. He stroked her slowly, teasingly, watching her face as pleasure washed over her features. Her eyes were half-lidded, lips parted slightly as she panted.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, circling her clit with his thumb. "Let me hear you."

Lorelai's hips bucked against his hand as he slid two fingers inside her. He set a steady rhythm, curling his fingers to hit that spot that made her see stars. Her moans grew louder, less restrained, and Dean felt his own arousal mounting in response.

Unable to resist any longer, Dean began kissing his way down her body. He nipped at her hipbone, soothing the sting with his tongue, before settling between her thighs. Lorelai propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with hooded eyes.

"Dean," she whimpered, a plea and a warning all at once.

He smirked up at her before diving in, licking a broad stripe through her folds. Lorelai fell back against the pillows with a cry, one hand fisting in the sheets while the other flew above her head to brace against the headboard. Dean set to work with enthusiasm, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on her clit.

"Fuck, Dean, yes," Lorelai gasped, her hips rolling against his face.

Dean redoubled his efforts, sliding his fingers back inside her as he sucked her clit between his lips. He could feel her getting close, her inner walls beginning to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, pulling back just enough to speak. "Come for me. Let go."

He dove back in, determined to push her over the edge. Lorelai's moans grew louder, more desperate, her thighs trembling on either side of his head. Dean could tell she was right on the precipice when a sharp knock at the door startled them both.

Dean lifted his head, meeting Lorelai's frustrated gaze. "Ignore it," he said, his voice rough with desire. "They'll go away."

Lorelai nodded, tugging gently at his hair to guide him back to where she needed him most. Dean was more than happy to oblige, returning to his task with renewed vigor. He could feel how close she was, her body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

Just as Lorelai's breath began to hitch, signaling her impending release, another knock sounded at the door. This one was louder, more insistent. Dean felt Lorelai deflate beneath him, the moment slipping away.

"Fuck," she groaned, frustration evident in her voice. Before Dean could protest, she was slipping out from under him, climbing off the bed.

"Lor, come on," Dean whined, reaching for her. "They'll go away eventually."

But Lorelai was already moving towards the door, snagging Dean's discarded flannel shirt off the floor as she went.

"Or they'll just keep knocking," she huffed, muttering something he couldn't make out as she walked further away. Dean flopped onto his back with a groan, palming himself as he watched her go. Her long legs were on full display, his shirt barely covering the curve of her ass. The sight of her in his clothes, hair mussed, and cheeks still flushed, was almost enough to make him forget his frustration at the interruption.

Lorelai reached for the doorknob, clearly intending to tell whoever it was to get lost. But as she pulled it open Dean saw her entire body tense, her hand gripping the edge of the door tightly.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice strained.

A familiar, gruff voice replied, sending ice shooting through Dean's veins.

"I'm looking for my son, Dean. This is his room, isn't it?"

Dean was out of bed in a flash, grabbing his jeans from the floor and hastily pulling them on. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, gently moving Lorelai aside to face his father.

"Dad?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

His mind raced as he faced his father, acutely aware of Lorelai's presence next to him. The familiar scent of gun oil and leather that he'd grown up associating with his dad filled the air, mingling with the lingering traces of whiskey and sex that permeated the motel room. Dean's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of surprise and anxiety coursing through him. This was not good. This was not fucking good at all.

John's eyes flickered between Dean and Lorelai, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "Finished up in Birmingham earlier than expected. Thought I'd swing by, see if you needed a hand with that... situation you mentioned." He paused, his gaze settling on Lorelai and his mouth quirked, and Dean knew he meant the Chupacabra. "Didn't realize you'd have company. You gonna introduce me to your friend here?"

Dean grimaced as he felt Lorelai shift behind him, her discomfort palpable. This was so many levels of fucked. Lorelai already had enough reservations getting involved with him. The last thing either of them needed was her getting dragged into the Winchester circus like this. He resisted the urge to reach back and take her hand and instead squared his shoulders, meeting his father's gaze head-on.

"Lorelai, this is my dad, John," he said tightly. "Dad, Lorelai." It wasn't a great introduction, but Dean's mind was still racing. He didn't know how to define what Lorelai was to him, but he knew no matter what, the news wasn't going to go over well, and he needed a way to let that bomb drop without Lorelai bearing witness.

"Pleasure," John replied, holding out a hand. Lorelai stepped forward hesitantly to take it.

"You too, sir," she said, cheeks flushed. Dean could tell she was completely thrown off her game. He didn't think he'd ever seen her this uncertain before. It was oddly endearing.

"Relax, I won't bite," John chuckled. Lorelai flushed deeper, dropping her gaze.

"Right, uh, sorry. I wasn't expecting..." She trailed off awkwardly, gesturing at herself. John shrugged.

"Nothing I haven't seen before. Although next time, maybe try clothes."

Dean grit his teeth, hands fisting at his sides. Rationally, he knew his dad was just giving them shit, or more accurately, him shit, but the protective urge flaring in his chest didn't care.

"Alright, I think that's enough," Dean bit out. John held up his hands placatingly.

"Take it easy, didn't mean any harm. Just -"

"Hey, Lor," Dean said softly, cutting off whatever his father had been about to say and turning to face her. "Why don't you go grab a shower? Give me a chance to catch up with my dad." Relief flooded Lorelai's features, and she nodded quickly.

"Yeah, okay. I'll just... yeah." She ducked past them both, hurriedly grabbing her bag as she went before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door with a soft click.

And with the bathroom door safely closed, Dean turned to face his father, his jaw clenched. The air in the room felt thick with tension, a stark contrast to the easy morning he'd been enjoying just minutes before.

"Alright, come on in," Dean sighed, stepping aside to let John enter. He ran a hand through his hair, acutely aware of how disheveled he must look. "Wasn't exactly expecting company." John chuckled as he strode into the room, his eyes sweeping over the scattered clothes and rumpled bedsheets.

"Clearly," he said, settling into one of the chairs at the small table by the window. "Gotta say, son, you know how to pick 'em. She's a looker."

Dean felt a flare of irritation at his father's casual tone. This wasn't just some random hookup, and he hated the implication, though he wasn't surprised by the assumption. He also knew losing his temper wasn't going to help anything, and so he bit his tongue – a habit well developed over the years.

"Yeah, well," Dean muttered, grabbing his t-shirt off the floor and pulling it on. "It's not what you think."

His dad raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh? And what exactly am I thinking?"

Dean sighed, dropping into the chair across from his father. He could feel John's eyes on him, curious and expectant. There was no avoiding this conversation now, as much as he wanted to.

"It's... complicated," he began, ignoring the rhetorical question but wincing internally at how weak that sounded. The arched eyebrow he got in return did nothing to make him feel better.

"Complicated? Dean, I've seen you with plenty of women over the years. This doesn't look complicated. It looks like you got lucky, and I interrupted."

The dismissive tone in his father's voice grated on Dean's nerves. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to snap. "It's not like that, Dad. Lorelai's not just some random chick."

"No?" John's voice was skeptical. "Then what is she?"

Dean hesitated, searching for the right words. How could he explain what Lorelai meant to him when he wasn't even sure himself?

"Well, she's a hunter, for one," he said, his voice low. He was careful to meet his dad's gaze steadily, and he watched John's eyebrows shoot up immediately, surprise evident on his face.

"A hunter?" he repeated, his tone skeptical. "Dean, what the hell are you thinking? Since when do you hunt with anyone besides me or your – or Lee?" That he'd almost said your brother hung there for a moment, and Dean ignored the pain that came with remembering how long it had been since Sam had been around for hunts. Instead, he seized on the surge of defensiveness he felt.

"Since I met someone who knows what they're doing," he shot back. "Lor's good, Dad. Really good. We've worked a few cases together now."

John leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "And how exactly did you two meet? Last I checked, you weren't exactly frequenting hunter gatherings."

Dean hesitated, knowing his father wouldn't approve of the circumstances. But, in for a penny…

"We met in Tullahoma," he admitted. "Back in May. I was working that werewolf thing, remember?" Recognition flickered in John's eyes, quickly followed by a frown.

"The one that took you a damn month to wrap up?"

Fuck.

Dean nodded, trying not to grimace. He should have realized his dad would remember how long he'd been tied up.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't her fault I got there after the lunar cycle ended. Anyway, it turned out Lorelai was working the same case. We, uh... ran into each other. Literally."

John's brow furrowed. "And you've been hunting with her since then?"

"On and off," Dean confirmed. He could see the wheels turning in his father's head, knew he was connecting the dots. "Look, Dad, I know what you're thinking-"

"Do you?" John interrupted, his voice sharp. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've gotten yourself tangled up with some girl you barely know. A girl who could be a liability in the field." Dean felt his temper flare.

"It's not like that," he insisted. "I know how to vet people, and Lorelai's not some rookie, Dad. She knows what she's doing. Hell, she's saved my ass more than once." His dad's eyes narrowed.

"And you trust her? Just like that?"

"Yes," Dean said without hesitation, surprising even himself. "I do." And he realized, with startling clarity, that he meant it.

A heavy silence fell between them. Dean could see the conflict in his father's eyes, the warring instincts of a protective parent and a seasoned hunter. He knew his dad had always been wary of outsiders, especially when it came to the family business. But this was different. Lorelai was different.

"Dean," John said finally, his voice softer now. "I know you think you've got this under control, but you've got to be careful. Mixing hunting and... whatever this is," he gestured vaguely towards the rumpled bed, "it's dangerous. For both of you."

Dean felt a twinge of guilt. He knew his father was speaking from experience, knew the pain of loss that drove John's caution. But he also knew that Lorelai wasn't just some fling. She was... well, he wasn't sure exactly what she was, but it was something real. Something worth fighting for.

"I hear you, Dad," Dean said, meeting his father's gaze. "But Lorelai's not just some chick. She's... she's important to me. And she can handle herself."

John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"And what happens when she can't?" he asked. "What happens when something goes wrong, and you're too distracted trying to protect her to do the job?"

"That's not going to happen," he said firmly, bristling at the implication. "We work well together. We've got each other's backs."

"You can't know that for sure," John argued. "This life, Dean... it doesn't leave room for attachments. You know that."

Dean felt his frustration growing. He'd known this conversation wouldn't be easy – hell, he'd seen his dad and Sam have similar arguments… but that didn't make it any easier.

"Maybe it should," he shot back. "Maybe having someone to fight for makes us better hunters, not worse."

John's expression softened slightly, a hint of sadness creeping into his eyes.

"C'mon Dean, this is your brother's MO, not yours. You know better. And I know you want to believe that it can be different, son. But trust me, it's not that simple."

Dean took a breath before leaning forward, his voice low and intense when he was finally able to speak.

"Dad, I get it. I do. But Lorelai... she understands this life. She's not some civilian I'm putting in danger. She's a hunter, just like us. And yeah, maybe it complicates things sometimes, but it's worth it."

"And what happens when one of you gets hurt?" John pressed. "Or worse? You think you can handle losing her if things go south on a hunt?"

The words hit Dean like a punch to the gut, images of Lorelai's near-drowning flashing through his mind. He'd come so close to losing her already, and the thought of it happening again made his blood run cold. But instead of scaring him away, it only strengthened his resolve.

"I can't guarantee that won't happen," Dean said quietly. "But I'd rather have her in my life, even if it's dangerous, than push her away because I'm scared of what might happen."

John studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"You really care about this girl, don't you?"

There was a beat of silence, but Dean nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, Dad. I do."

John studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, though Dean could see he wasn't entirely convinced.

"Alright," John said. "I can see you've made up your mind. But I hope you know what you're doing, son. This life... it's not kind to relationships."

Dean felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. It wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement, but it was better than outright disapproval or a continued argument.

"I know, Dad. Trust me, we're both aware of the risks." And they were. She hadn't said, but Dean was pretty sure the fact that Lorelai had already lived through the nightmare of losing someone was the reason she was the way she was.

"Alright," his dad said finally, running a hand through his hair. "I can't say I'm thrilled about this, but... I trust your judgment, Dean. If you say she's good, then she's good."

Relief washed over Dean. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed his father's approval until that moment.

"Thanks, Dad," he said quietly.

John nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't thank me yet. I still want to see what this girl's made of. If she's going to be watching your back, I need to know she's up to the task."

Dean felt a surge of pride, thinking of the time's he'd gotten to see Lorelai in action. He wasn't worried about it; Lorelai was more than up to snuff.

"Trust me, she can hold her own."

John nodded again, then glanced towards the bathroom door.

"So, tell me more about this chupacabra case. You think it's the real deal?"

Grateful for the change in subject, Dean launched into an explanation of the evidence they'd gathered so far, which wasn't much but was at least a start. As they discussed the details, he could see his father's demeanor slowly shifting back to business as usual. It wasn't perfect, but he'd take it.

They were still deep in conversation when the bathroom door opened, and Lorelai stepped out. Her hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, and she'd changed into jeans and a soft-looking t-shirt. Dean felt a surge of affection at the sight of her, mixed with a twinge of anxiety about what was to come.

"Hey," he said, rising from the bed and crossing to her. "Feel better?"

Lorelai nodded, her eyes darting between Dean and John. "Yeah, thanks. Um, sorry about earlier. I wasn't exactly... prepared for company."

From the table, his dad waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. We've all been there."

Dean could see the tension in Lorelai's shoulders, the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. He placed a hand on the small of her back, leaning in close to murmur in her ear.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I filled him in. Well, mostly. We're good. You okay?"

Lorelai nodded, offering him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... wasn't exactly how I planned on meeting your dad."

Dean chuckled, some of the tension easing from his own shoulders. "Yeah, well, when do things ever go according to plan for us?" She let out a snort of laughter and he glanced back at his dad, who was watching their interaction with keen interest. "Listen," he continued, lowering his voice even further. "I know this isn't ideal, but... it'll be okay. I've got your back, alright?"

Lorelai's eyes searched his face, and Dean could see the moment some of her usual fire returned, even if she still didn't look a hundred percent.

"I can handle myself, Winchester," she said, a hint of her usual snark creeping into her voice.

Dean grinned, relieved to see a glimpse of the Lorelai he knew.

"Oh, I'm well aware of that, sweetheart. Just... try not to terrify the old man too much, okay? I'd like to keep you around."

Lorelai rolled her eyes, but Dean could see the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "No promises," she quipped.

Dean's hand pressed closer into the small of her back, a gesture of reassurance. "That's my girl," he murmured. Then, louder, "I'm gonna grab a quick shower. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone, alright?"

He pressed a quick kiss to Lorelai's temple before heading towards the bathroom, pausing to grab clean clothes from his duffel. As he closed the door behind him, he caught one last glimpse of Lorelai squaring her shoulders, preparing to face John Winchester alone.

Dean leaned against the closed door for a moment, letting out a long breath. He'd known this moment would come eventually, but he'd hoped to have more time to prepare. To ease both Lorelai and his father into the idea. But life had a funny way of throwing curveballs, and all he could do now was hope they'd both come out of this in one piece.

As he stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, Dean allowed himself a moment of quiet reflection. He thought about the way Lorelai's eyes lit up when she laughed, the fierce determination she showed on a hunt, the softness in her touch when they were alone. He thought about the way his chest tightened when she was in danger, the overwhelming relief he felt when she was safe in his arms.

Despite himself, his father's words bounced around in his head. It scared him sometimes, how deep his feelings for Lorelai ran. But as the water cascaded over him, Dean realized he wouldn't change it for the world. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever his dad thought... Dean knew in his bones that Lorelai was worth fighting for.

As always, thank you all so much for reading and your feedback! You guys always brighten my day 😊 Hope everyone enjoys the chapter!

On another note - so, this story is actually built off of something else I wrote but never posted anywhere. It's a Harry Potter fic, focused around Lorelai and set before and during the books. Anyone have any interest in it? There were two versions of it, one that directly leads into this story and another that goes an alternative path. I've been thinking about going back, editing, and posting the alternative version.