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“Uh, Dani? Could you come up here for a sec?”

Jensen’s voice sounds weirdly off, so Danneel quickly puts down the book she was reading and stands up. As she hurries through the house to the entrance door, she wonders who could possibly be ringing the doorbell that would throw Jensen off like this.

She is not prepared for what she sees.


“In the flesh,” the man standing in the door says, and his eyes travel all over her, head to toes and back up again. Danneel can feel her heartbeat pick up when his lips curl into a smile that says he likes what he sees.

“Hey, man!” Jensen smacks his doppelganger in the arm. “That’s my wife you’re ogling!”

“Really? Dude, I gotta say, she’s way outta your league!” Dean’s smile turns dirtier, and he doesn’t appear contrite at all. He steps forward, extending his hand to Danneel. “Dean Winchester.”

“Danneel Ackles,” she accepts the offered hand and shakes it. It’s the same hand as Jensen’s, but not really. It’s wider, rougher, the fingers a little crooked, the skin marred with numerous scars. It’s exactly how she imagines Dean’s hands would be when she secretly fantasizes about him.

It’s that thought that brings her back to reality. And to the fact that reality has somehow become seriously unreal in the last few minutes. She looks at her husband questioningly. “Jensen, what’s going on here?”

“He showed up,” Jensen says as if that explains anything, while Dean nods in agreement.

“He’s not real,” Danneel objects.

Dean’s eyes, the same piercing green as Jensen’s, twinkle with mischief. “Oh darling, I’m very real.”

“Stop hitting on my wife!”

“She’s hot! And she’s exactly my type!” Dean defends himself, not even taking his eyes off Danneel. “I can’t help it; you should know that! It’s your fault anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the one who decided to portray me as someone who has a thing for powerful, kickass chicks who know what they want and how to get it.”

Jensen shifts his weight nervously, grimacing. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“And now you’re here,” Danneel jumps in, before they can digress any further from the topic. “Why? And how?”

“Fucking angels brought me here,” Dean growls angrily. “It turns out that if Amara gets her hands on me and convinces me to join her, she’ll become invincible. They didn’t wanna risk that, even though I told them I’d never do that. So they decided to scoop me up and put me away somewhere till they figure out what to do with the situation.”

Jensen’s reaction is a nod, and then he asks, “Is Sam okay?”

“God, I hope so,” Dean says, and the two men exchange understanding looks of concern. “He’s supposed to stay holed up in the bunker, do research and stay safe, but you know the guy…”

“Yeah,” Jensen nods again, “yeah, actually I do.” He puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder and gives a firm squeeze. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Sam can take care of himself.”

For the first time, Dean drops the mask of a cool macho guy that he likes to wear most of the time, and once he does, he looks smaller, and somehow younger and much older at the same time. And very, very tired. There are dark circles under his eyes, his skin is way too pale, his features haggard. Danneel didn’t even notice as long as he kept the Dean Winchester charm turned on, but now it’s evident that the man hasn’t had a proper rest in ages.

Her protective instincts kick in. “Alright, let’s get you inside,” she finds herself saying, reaching out to pull him further into the house while Jensen, clearly on the same wavelength, closes the door. “I’ll fix you something to eat while you clean up and change into some fresh clothes, and then you should definitely get some sleep. Jensen, will you show him to the guest bathroom?”

“Wait, what?” Dean looks confused.

“You’re staying here, you idiot,” Jensen explains.


It turns out that Dean’s table manners leave much to be desired, but he almost makes up for it with the appreciative noises and comments he makes as he wolfs down the leftover pork chop Danneel made for dinner.

“This is fantastic,” he says, shoveling food into his mouth with unrestrained gusto. Huddled up in Jensen’s old sweatpants and hoodie, hair damp from the shower and sticking every which way, he looks unselfconscious in a way that Jensen never has. Defenseless, almost, although Danneel knows that couldn’t be further from the truth. The man sitting at her dinner table is one of the most competent, dangerous people in… well, maybe not this world, but definitely in his.

In that moment, the full implications of just who they let into their house dawn on Danneel, and the shiver that runs down her spine at the thought is not the good kind.

“Hey,” Jensen’s voice, hushed and calming, is in her ear, his hands rubbing her arms soothingly for a while before he hugs her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s safe.” For us, is what he doesn’t say, but Danneel can hear it anyway. And she may not know Dean Winchester as well as Jensen does, but she trusts Jensen’s judgement on him unquestioningly.

Still, there are some issues that have to be addressed, so she whispers, “What do we do with him? How do we explain it to Jared and Gen? I mean, we can’t keep him locked up in a spare room…”

“You can,” Dean speaks, surprising them both. He seemed completely absorbed in his food, not at all aware of what was going on around him. Again, Danneel is reminded just who they are dealing with. “You probably should,” Dean adds after a moment of tense silence from all three of them. “It’s better if I stay out of everyone’s way. Smaller chance of me screwing things up.”

It’s the way he says that, with resignation, with absolute conviction that it’s the truth, that decides it.

“No hiding,” Danneel says resolutely. “We invited you in. You’re our guest. You’re welcome here.”

Dean blinks slowly, as if he didn’t understand any of what she said. “Huh?”

“Look,” Jensen takes over, sitting at the table across from Dean. “I’m not saying this whole thing isn’t crazy, because it is. But we’re not hiding you in a closet like some ugly, dirty secret, okay?”


“No back talk in my house!”

“Sorry.” Dean straightens up immediately, like a schoolboy who got scolded by his teacher, and bends over his plate. And Danneel feels a little bit bad about using the authoritative mom voice on him, but at least it works. He doesn’t bring up any stupid ideas about being locked away again.


They show him around the house, which Dean grudgingly deems not as douchy as he’d expect from a couple of TV stars. Then his fake-dispassionate attitude disappears completely when he discovers the large, heated pool outside. He’s practically bouncing in excitement when he asks if he can use it.

He spends the rest of the afternoon in the pool, while Jensen reads through the script of the next episode and Danneel goes over the plans for the charity event at the Austin Thinkery that will take place in two weeks. She was hoping Jensen could make it there, his name would draw in much more attention than just hers and Genevieve’s, but he’ll be filming in Vancouver at the time.

Maybe she could take Dean instead. He spent his entire life impersonating FBI agents and a billion other things, he could pull off playing Jensen Ackles, right?

“Hey, check this out!” Dean hollers at them, and proceeds to show them how to kill a selkie, played by a pool lounger in the demonstration. The lounger doesn’t survive.

On second thought, maybe taking Dean to the charity event wouldn’t be such a bright idea.


“How difficult is it really to chop off a vamp’s head?” Jensen wants to know later, and then he and Dean make a mess outside by the pool chopping melons in half while Dean explains angles and arm swings and the proper way to plant your feet.

At least they don’t have to be told to clean it up. It seems that Dean’s a bit of a neat freak.


“How is he?” Danneel asks that night when Jensen joins her in the bedroom.

“Impressed with my collection of whisky.” Jensen’s Texan accent is thicker, and the tips of his ears are flushed in that adorable way that means he’s had a little too many. “Dee, that man can drink.”

“Like you didn’t already know that. How many bottles did you kill as Dean?”

“But that was just tea… mostly,” he giggles, eyes shining as he recalls one of the countless pranks on set. “He’s just… He barely looked tipsy.”

“He’s not gonna drink every bottle we have in the house, is he?”

“What? No, no. He went to bed. Seemed to be in a good mood, actually. Said it was nice to talk to someone who gets him.”

That captures her attention. “So he talked? Like, about his feelings?”

“Kinda.” Scratching the top of his head, Jensen chuckles. “His definition of ‘talking’ is somewhat questionable. He mostly just nodded or made affirmative noises while I talked. But… I don’t know, it seemed like it made him feel better.”

“I bet it did.” It’s no secret that Jensen’s a great listener, always there to offer a shoulder to lean on and hear out your problems, but not as many people know that Jensen’s also very good at knowing just what to say right when you need to hear it. “I’m proud of you, Jensen. You’re a good man.”

Wrinkles fan out from the corners of Jensen’s eyes as he smiles. “Now I think you’re just trying to flatter your way into my pants.”

“And what if I am?”

“Then I’m gonna have to admit it’s working.” Bending over her, he kisses her breathless while his hands slip underneath the hem of her nightie.


Dean meets Jared and Gen the next day when they come over for dinner. It’s a bit rocky at the start, mostly because Dean keeps looking at Jared like he wishes he was someone else, and at Gen like he wants to stab her in the heart. Talk about awkward.

But once Dean accepts that Jared is not Sam and Gen is not Ruby – both facts are pretty obvious, after all – the mood lightens, and the rest of the dinner passes in relative ease. When the Padaleckis are leaving, Jared impulsively pulls Dean into one of those trademark octopus hugs, which is apparently enough to fully assure Dean that this giant puppy of a man is definitely not his brother. And after he’s done rolling his eyes, huffing and puffing out his chest in a manly manner to compensate for all the Jared-groping he’s been subjected to, he offers Jared and Gen his first genuine smile.


Jensen and Danneel spend the rest of Sunday just hanging around and enjoying each other’s company, lounging on the couch, Danneel’s fingers drawing lazy circles on Jensen’s chest, Jensen playing with her hair as they talk about everything and nothing, sometimes falling into easy, comfortable silence filled with nothing but their breath and the kisses they trade whenever their mouths get close.

Once, they catch Dean watching them through the open door to the living room as he passes by. He looks a little sad, and maybe lost in thought, his eyes not really seeing Jensen and Danneel anymore. Then, once he finds his way back to the here and now, he just shrugs, gives them a leer and leaves.

“You think he’s thinking about Lisa? Or Cassie?” Danneel asks, because she can’t get Dean’s wistful expression out of her mind. “The life he could’ve had?”

Jensen doesn’t answer.


In the evening, Jensen breaks out the whisky, and Danneel joins them this time. As hours go by and the bottle gets emptier, Danneel shifts closer and closer to Jensen, until eventually she’s curled up right next to him, head resting on his shoulder, Jensen’s arm around her.

His hand is cupping her breast gently; he’s probably not even aware of it as he discusses the trickiness of driving a classic car with Dean. But Dean notices, his gaze drawn to Jensen’s hand on Danneel’s breast over and over, and she’s not sure which he finds more fascinating. She thinks maybe it’s both.

Well. She can’t exactly blame him. She and Jensen do look great together.

“What’s that?” Jensen asks, a fond smile on his face. “Something funny?”

“Uh-uh,” she shakes her head, but snickers again.

Dean, sprawled in the armchair opposite them, stares at Danneel as if he can see straight into her soul, and then his lips curl into a dirty smile as he informs Jensen, “Dude, I think your wife is thinking some seriously dirty thoughts right now.”

Jensen looks at Danneel, then back to Dean. He’s holding Dean’s gaze as he asks, “That right, honey?”

Danneel looks at Dean, then back to Jensen. Slowly, she nods.

Nobody says anything. Danneel can feel two sets of eyes trained on her now, and under her palm, Jensen’s heart is beating wild and fast. A few feet away, Dean’s breathing is loud and harsh in the silence.

Then Jensen says, “Excuse us,” and picks Danneel up. Her legs immediately lock around Jensen’s waist, and she lets him carry her away, up the stairs and to their bedroom.

She keeps her eyes on Dean for as long as she can, and feels the heat and raw want of his gaze long after he’s out of her sight.


The next morning, Danneel is woken by a heavenly smell wafting through the crack beneath the door. “Pancakes?” She asks, sitting up.

Jensen is also fully awake, a truly unusual sight. “Coffee,” he adds, voice still deep and sleep-rough, almost Dean-like.

“Is he making us breakfast?” Danneel asks at the same time as Jensen says hopefully, “Can we keep him?”

(“We should keep him,” Danneel moans around a mouthful of the fluffiest, most delicious pancake she’s ever tasted. She comes from a family that takes pride in its cooking skills, but damn, this is some good stuff.)


“You gonna be okay?” Jensen asks between kisses that afternoon, palms cupping Danneel’s face with gentle strength, unwilling to let go even though he’s risking missing his flight. Around them, busy crowds stream, the airport noisy. From afar, several people are trying to inconspicuously take their picture, which only confirms that it was the right decision to not take Dean along to any public places.

“I’ll be fine,” Danneel answers, and presses one more kiss to Jensen’s lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll be safe with Dean.”

“You sure?” Jensen still seems reluctant about the whole thing. “If you don’t feel comfortable–“

“I’m sure.” She smiles and runs her fingers through his carefully styled hair just to mess with him, and because she loves his mock-offended pouts. “Besides, it’ll be nice. He’ll keep me company.”

Jensen grows serious, eyes narrowing. “Yeah,” he says, slow and heavy. Careful, calculating. “You like him, don’t you?”


“Dani. You know what I mean.”

Feeling herself blush, Danneel starts to stammer. “Jensen, I – I…”

“Shh,” he silences her with a finger on her mouth, and gives her one of his knowing looks. “It’s okay, Dee. I like him too.”


“Last call for passengers on American Airlines flight 5670 to Vancouver,” a voice announces from the speakers.

“We’ll talk when I get back, okay?” Jensen promises, pulls Danneel into a last quick hug and rushes to the departure gate.


It’s barely noticeable, but with Jensen gone, Dean pulls back, withdraws more to himself, keeps a bigger distance between himself and Danneel than he did before. He tones down the appreciative once-overs and the suggestive comments, acting polite, almost shy.

“I think he’s trying to make it clear that he’s not a threat to you,” Jensen says when they’re facetiming, the white wall of his near-empty Vancouver apartment behind him. “That he’s not gonna try anything.”

“I know that!” The idea itself is absolutely absurd; Dean might be overt in his appreciation of women, but he’s also never been anything but respectful. He’d never cross another person’s boundaries, Danneel is sure of that. “He’s not like that.”

Jensen sighs, dragging his hand over his face. “Dani, he’s the guy who always thinks the worst of himself. All he sees when he looks in the mirror is weakness and failure.”

This is nothing new; after all, Danneel’s been living with the man who brought Dean Winchester to life for years, but having to experience Dean’s self-worth issues first-hand is a whole another thing. No wonder Jensen often comes back from Vancouver emotionally drained, empty and cold, seeking Danneel’s warmth and life like he would die otherwise. Staying in Jared’s company while he’s up there filming, hanging out with the cast and crew to keep the darkness at bay.

“How is he even functional?” Danneel whispers in wonder, shivering with a cold that comes from somewhere deep inside. “How does he keep going?”

Jensen shrugs. “He’s got no other choice.”


“It’s okay, you know.”

Dean nearly trips over his feet when he’s interrupted in his hasty retreat back inside the house. “What?”

Danneel swims over to the edge of the pool, pulls herself halfway out of the water, arms resting on the ceramic tiles. “It’s okay for you to be around me, Dean. Even when Jensen’s not here. I trust you.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “That mistake might cost you your life.”

And Danneel’s had enough. “You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“All that I break everything I touch, so I stay alone and suffer in silence crap – it’s…” Well, she can’t say it’s stupid. This self-defense mechanism has kept Dean going for years, so in a way, it must be working. But it’s also killing him.

Watching her intently, Dean prompts, “It’s what?” Tone curt, guarded, posture stiff, closed-off. Expecting mockery or rejection. Danneel has to tread carefully here.

“It’s a shame you only see the bad in yourself,” is what she ends up saying, aware of how lame it sounds even as she’s saying it. And sure enough, Dean’s rolling his eyes. “Listen,” she tries again, “I know you’ve made mistakes. But you’ve also done so much good, Dean. Helped so many people, saved so many people. You still are. You went through unimaginable things–“ He flinches, clearly uncomfortable with where this is going, so she swerves away quickly. “My point is: you’re kind of amazing. You inspire people, you show over and over that it’s never too late to try to set things right.”

He’s scowling, but he lets her talk, so Danneel takes that as a good sign, and carries on. “You never stop fighting. You have any idea how many people identify with that, how many people you and Sam helped like this?” It feels a bit like the endless, repetitive talks with Jared back in the summer, trying to make him see his worth, get through his doubts and insecurities to reach his heart. “I know you don’t believe me when I say you’re a good man, but you should. Because you are.”

Snorting, Dean shakes his head. “You and Sammy should start a club or something.”

“If we did, we’d soon be bombarded with membership requests from all over the world.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Damn right. You better believe it.” Accepting the fact that the serious part of their conversation is over, Danneel jokes, “And you’d be the club cook. Make those incredible pancakes and coffee for everyone.”

“Like hell! If it’s a club founded in my honor, everyone should pamper me. Bring me burgers and bake me pie.”

“I could make you a pie.”

The way his entire face lights up is adorable. “Really?”

“Really. And I will, later. Now, will you get in the pool with me? Let’s laze around some more.”

Dean steps closer cautiously. He’s already in swimming trunks, he was in the pool before she came and inadvertently drove him away with her presence. “There will be pie later?”

“Cross my heart.”



From then on, Danneel makes it a point to stay close to Dean, make it clear in every way possible that his company is welcome and appreciated. It’s true; Dean’s a witty conversationalist, his wry, mischievous sense of humor very familiar to Danneel, his perceptiveness and sensitivity (about which he, mysteriously, remains absolutely clueless) making it easy to talk and confide in him.

He’s constantly restless though, can’t handle it well when he’s left alone with his thoughts. And Danneel understands that, she’s been there too, and learning how to just be with herself was maybe the most important and difficult thing she’s learned in her entire life. But that takes time and self-acceptance and other qualities that Dean doesn’t exactly abound with, so for now, she settles for giving him things to do to keep him occupied.

They work out, play with the dogs and spend time in the pool. Dean tinkers with things around the house and in the yard. Under Danneel’s guidance, he also learns how to prepare some of the more complicated meals, although he admits with a cheerless smile that he probably won’t have the money or time to make any of them for Sam once he comes back. Still, he absorbs the knowledge eagerly, learning fast, just the fact that he’s gaining some new skills giving him some semblance of happiness, or maybe peace.


Dean’s heartbroken when he realizes that there’s no Dr. Sexy, M.D. in this world, and he scornfully rejects Grey’s Anatomy as a cheap substitute. To cheer him up, Danneel suggests watching Jensen’s episodes of Days of Our Lives.

They laugh so hard tears are running down their faces and their stomachs hurt.

Jensen is not amused.

Which just makes it even funnier.


“What are we watching tonight?” Danneel asks on Thursday when they’re cleaning up after dinner.

“Uh, I have one idea,” Dean says, eyes downcast, as if the flat plate in his hand was the most interesting thing in the universe. He seems unsure, nervous in a way he hasn’t been around Danneel in days.


“I did a little digging online,” he admits, still looking down. “There’s this movie you and Jensen did together. Sounds like fun.”

“Oh.” Oh. Now his reluctance makes sense. He must’ve read about the sex scene.

Well, it’s a good scene, Danneel’s got nothing to be ashamed of. And the thought of Dean seeing her like this makes her breath quicken, makes blood run faster in her veins.

“Yeah,” Danneel says, dropping her voice a little lower than usual, a fact that Dean doesn’t miss, if the wide-eyed look he gives her is anything to go by. It makes Danneel feel sexy. Powerful. Holding his gaze, Danneel puts down the dishtowel she was holding and leans back against the counter, back arched. “It’s a good movie. I think you’ll like it.”


“So?” She says two hours later as the credits start to roll. She’s sitting on the couch right next to Dean, so close that she could feel him tense up when naked Tish showed on the screen, and even in the dark of the room illuminated by the TV only, she could see the growing bulge in his jeans. “Did you like it?”

He turns to look at her, which he hasn’t done while the movie was still playing. “Yeah. Yeah, I liked it a lot. But I think you already know that.”

“Yeah, maybe I do.”

He sits still, studying her face, his gaze drawn to her mouth just as much as hers is to his. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, the same way Jensen does when he’s trying to compose himself, and then he bites on that lip, and looks away.

He stands up. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he declares, and leaves – or rather flees from – the room. Not much later, the shower starts upstairs.

Not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed, Danneel moves on the couch to the warm spot that Dean occupied, lying down into the soft cushions where his scent is stronger, and closes her eyes as her fingers slip underneath her skirt and between her legs.


“I think about him, sometimes,” Danneel admits when she’s talking to Jensen on the phone later that night. Jensen doesn’t say anything, but his face on the screen nods, encouraging her to keep talking. “I think about him when I touch myself. Does that make me a bad person? A bad wife?”

“It only makes you a person who’s not blind, Dee,” Jensen says finally, the statement accompanied by a warm, genuine smile. “He’s… it’s just the way he is. Makes you want to cuddle him and fuck him senseless at the same time.”

“Woah.” This is not what she was expecting.

“Hey, baby, you know it’s true.” The grin Jensen gives her is one from Dean’s repertoire, which is damn confusing, and also really hot. That, of course, doesn’t escape Jensen’s notice, and his grin widens. “You like that, don’t you?”


“Well then, why don’t you make yourself comfortable and tell me all about the thoughts you’ve been having about him?”

And that is very tempting, but still, Danneel has to ask first, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” comes his reply, and then the image on her screen shakes a bit, and there’s the sound of a zipper being opened. “Now, tell me about Dean Winchester, honey.”



Jensen flies in late on Friday, looking so tired that it takes Dean by surprise.

“Huh. I had no idea acting could be so tough,” he says as he shoves a bottle of beer into Jensen’s hand.

“Thanks, man,” Jensen accepts the beer gladly and takes a pull, long neck exposed and lips shiny around the bottleneck. Unbeknownst to him, Danneel and Dean both watch him with hunger, only looking away and trying to appear nonchalant when Jensen puts the now half-empty bottle on the table.

Or maybe they weren’t as subtle as they thought, Danneel realizes later when Jensen raises the bottle to his lips again, because this is not how you drink your beer. This is how you seduce somebody.

Next to Danneel, Dean swallows audibly.

“So,” Jensen smiles at them, all fake innocence, “how’ve you guys been all week?”


They fall asleep watching some random action movie in the living room, squeezed onto the sofa because Jensen (or was it Danneel?) insisted that there’s plenty of room for all three of them even though that was a blatant lie.

Still, none of them showed any discomfort at being squashed so close together, and before Danneel drifts off, she’s vaguely aware of Jensen’s arm around her shoulder, and Dean’s arm wrapped around both her and Jensen.

It’s nice.


“He’s really into you.” Jensen spits toothpaste into the sink. “That’s pretty clear.”

“I think he’s into both of us,” she corrects him, and then finishes applying her mascara before she asks the question she’s been waiting to ask for days now. “Are we gonna do something about it?”

After he puts away his toothbrush, Jensen steps up to Danneel, puts his hands on her hips, ducks his head to look into her eyes. “Do you want to?”

Taking a deep breath, Danneel says, “Yeah, I think I do.”

He pulls her closer, her belly against the hardness in his pants. “I think I’d like that, too. The question is, is he gonna go along with it?”

“You tell me; you know him better.”

“I know Dean the character. You spent more time with the real Dean.”


“So, if we ask him to join us in the bedroom… will he say yes?”

Danneel’s mouth runs dry at the thought of her secret dream coming true. “God, I hope so.”


After some careful planning, they come to the conclusion that swaying Dean in favor of their proposal should be fairly easy. After all, both Danneel and Jensen know how to work their looks to their best advantage, so Dean doesn’t really stand any chance of resisting them anyway.

Jensen’s tight dark blue jeans showcase his strong, bowed legs and his ass perfectly, and the short-sleeved black t-shirt stretches tight across his broad shoulders, the V-neck low enough to display the hickey Danneel left right above his collarbone last night.

In her high heels, Danneel’s legs are a killer, and the simple, smart dress with a low-cut top leaves little to imagination, hiding just enough to make men do anything so they could see more.

Dean does a double-take when he sees them, immediately recognizing that something’s up. “Going out?” He asks, and although he’s probably trying to sound casual and unaffected, he’s evidently anything but.

“Actually,” Danneel bends over to whisper conspiratorially, giving Dean a nice view of her cleavage, “we thought we’d stay here.”

“Right, spend some more time with you,” Jensen adds, and folds his arms over his chest, biceps nearly bursting out of the sleeves of his shirt.

Dean, sitting at the coffee table in the living room, Jensen’s old Batman comic book in front of him, looks more than a little out of his element; something that Danneel just can’t comprehend, because come on, people must be throwing themselves at Dean left and right. “Me?” Is what he finally says, like he didn’t understand the first time.

“Yes,” Danneel nods vehemently.

Unexpectedly going off the script that Danneel and Jensen had lined out, Dean looks them both up and down, estimating, calculating. “Is this some kind of a pity date? Let poor Dean have some fun before he goes back to ganking monsters and drinking cheap booze?”

“No, of course not–“ Danneel starts, but is silenced by Jensen’s hand on her shoulder.

“Listen to me, man,” Jensen says, sitting down opposite Dean. “This is no pity date, alright? And it’s no joke either. I’m sorry if we made you feel that way.”

“It’s fine,” Dean mutters, shifting in his seat, eyes downcast, looking embarrassed.

“No, it’s not,” Jensen counters, leaning forward, trying to get Dean to look at him. When he succeeds, he carries on. “We shouldn’t have treated this like a game. Treated you like that.”

Finally catching on, Danneel steps in. “This isn’t about us using you for fun, or because you’re… attainable, or something. Or because you owe us.” The parade of emotions, dark and ugly memories flashing across Dean’ face, tells her she’s on the right path. “We’d never do something like that to you. I thought you knew us well enough to know that.”

Sighing, Dean nods hesitantly. Then once again, more resolutely. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Good. “Dean, we like you, okay? And we thought you might like us back.”

“We’ve never done this before, with anyone,” Jensen picks up where Danneel leaves off. “But we’d like to give it a try it with you. If you’ll have us.” He links his fingers with Danneel’s and stretches out their joined hands across the table, towards Dean.

They wait.

Time passes; how much of it, Danneel’s not sure. It feels like a small eternity before Dean clears his throat and sits up straighter. His eyes find Danneel’s, then Jensen’s, wide and hopeful and scared. “Okay,” he says, and briefly puts his hand on theirs.

“I gotta take a walk,” he stands up abruptly and leaves the house before they can stop him. By the time they recover enough to follow him outside, he’s already walking through the front gate.

“He’ll be back,” Danneel says, as much for Jensen’s sake as for hers, needing the assurance.

“He’ll be back,” Jensen echoes, and squeezes her hand tight.


Hours pass by and there’s no word from Dean, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend that this is just a regular Saturday. They’re both restless, can’t properly concentrate on anything, their heads too filled with question marks.

Feeling like there’s no point in being presentable anymore, Jensen changes into more comfortable jeans and Danneel kicks off her high heels, and not knowing what to do, they stay inside the house and do nothing. But unlike all those other times when doing just that felt nice, now it feels wrong, and instead of helping them relax, it only gets them more strung up.

They end up back in the living room, the TV on but neither of them paying any attention to it.

That’s how Dean finds them when he comes back, entering unnoticed through the front door. It’s already getting dark outside, the neighborhood calm and quiet on the weekend afternoon.

“I’ve thought about it,” Dean’s voice makes them both jump, which makes him chuckle as he walks over to stand in front of them. He sticks his hands inside his pockets, and again, he reminds Danneel of a nervous schoolboy standing in front of the class.

“And?” Danneel prompts, holding her breath.

Instead of a reply, Dean holds out both his hands towards them.


He kisses Danneel first, the brush of his lips against hers feather-soft, tentative, barely-there. He’s not touching her anywhere else, it’s Jensen’s hands that direct her to move closer to Dean, until their bodies are all pressed together, Dean in front of her, Jensen behind her.

It feels damn good, and Danneel opens her mouth wider, moans when Dean’s tongue swipes over her bottom lip before finally slipping inside. The kiss turns more passionate, but it’s still slow, gentle, almost playful.

Jensen’s nipping at the side of Danneel’s neck, but his hands move away from her, and when she breaks the kiss to come up for air, she finds them at Dean’s hips, already brushing bare skin under the rucked up hem of his t-shirt.

Dean’s still holding on to Danneel, one palm curled around her hip, the other cupping her breast. Again, the tenderness is astounding. He seems to be content just standing there, trading kisses and light touches, but Danneel wants more, and Jensen’s erection pressing against her ass tells her that he does, too.

“Dean, how do you feel about taking this to the bedroom?”

Thankfully, her question is met with a dirty smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It feels odd, closing the bedroom door and turning to see Jensen and Dean standing at the foot of the bed, watching Danneel with similar expressions of desire. She likes it. She wants more of it. Pulling her dress over her head and tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair, Danneel stands in front of them in nothing but her lacy lingerie. On a whim, she strikes a model pose and gives them a saucy wink. “How do I look?”

“Amazing,” Dean breathes out, and next to him, Jensen nods proudly, his eyes devouring Danneel with the same hunger and wonder as they did the first time. As they always do.

“I know,” Danneel says, and struts over to the bed, settling amongst the cushions with her ankles crossed, hands behind her head. “Now it’s your turn.”

She was talking to Dean, but when they both start to undress, Danneel doesn’t have any complaints.

Boots and socks are discarded, and then t-shirts pulled off, revealing two sets of broad shoulders and toned, solid chests. Having them standing next to each other, Danneel can see that Dean’s a bit leaner than Jensen, and there are scars peppering his skin all over, while Jensen’s skin is generously sprinkled with freckles instead.

Dean notices her comparing them and pauses with his fingers on the buckle of his belt, while Jensen’s already down to his underwear. Danneel opens her mouth to say something encouraging, but Jensen catches her gaze and shakes his head minutely.

“Hey, don’t keep the lady waiting,” he says, and, being the first to take the leap, steps out of his boxer briefs.

Dean’s eyes immediately stray to Jensen’s crotch, curious, before quickly moving away. Then, as if he remembers he’s allowed to, he looks back, and his lips part around a soft, appreciative little sound.

“Pretty all over, isn’t he?” Danneel comments, crawling over the bed to kneel at the edge of it, close enough that she can reach out and wrap her fingers around Jensen’s hard cock. A pool of precome is already glistening at the tip, and she collects it with her thumb, brings it to her mouth to lick it off.

Dean nearly whines at the sight, and the rest of his clothes are on the floor in a blink.

“Come here,” Danneel beckons him closer, and when he does, she puts her hands on him. He shudders at the contact, a low whine coming from his throat when she takes a firm hold of him, moves her closed fist up and down, up and down again. He seems to be the same size and shape as Jensen, but his reactions are different, as she learns later, when they’re all lying in the bed, touching each other, exploring, discovering.

While Jensen’s nipples are so sensitive he can almost come just from Danneel playing with them, Dean’s seem to be rather indifferent to Danneel’s fingers and mouth and tongue.

Jensen always goes crazy at the extra tight, nearly painful squeeze of Danneel’s hand around his cock, but the thing that drives Dean wild is a slow, steady massage of his balls.

More often than not, Jensen’s hands find their way to Danneel’s breasts, now long free of her bra. Dean’s are much more likely to wander down between her legs or squeeze her ass.

They both love it when she grabs a fistful of their hair or tells them what to do, so much that when she tells them to kiss each other, they don’t even hesitate before they’re doing it. It’s hot to watch, two pairs of perfect lips meeting in a kiss that starts out slow but quickly grows more enthusiastic as they battle for dominance; flashes of teeth, low growls and grappling hands. Jensen wins when he captures Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls, Dean freezing for a split second before moaning nice and sweet in surrender.

Jensen and Dean kiss some more while Danneel watches, and then she and Dean kiss and Jensen watches, and finally her mouth finds Jensen’s in a kiss that is all smiles and laughter. When they break apart, Dean’s eyes are a little sad, but the sadness is replaced with lust when Jensen spreads Danneel’s legs wide and invites Dean to have a taste.

Not needing to be asked twice, Dean crouches between her thighs.

Just like in every other aspect, he’s a quick study, soon discovering most of the tricks to make Danneel’s voice break and her muscles quiver as he holds her open for his tongue, stabbing inside, lapping at her, making her moan, making her whimper.

“Shh, baby, shh,” Jensen murmurs into her hear, the comforting words contradicting the way his fingers pinch and tweak her nipples, making her buck and writhe in his hold. “That’s it, let us take care of you,” he says as she shudders through her first orgasm and then sobs through the second.

Dean lifts up, shifts, hovering above her. “Can I?” He asks, voice raspy, pupils blown wide.

“Yes, please,” Danneel manages to croak out, and Jensen’s already reaching for the bedside table and handing Dean a condom. He’s holding a second packet in his hand, and places it on top of the table, next to an almost full bottle of lube.

Dean goes still, positioned above Danneel, the head of his cock already nudging her pussy. “What’s that for?” He asks warily, eyes on the lube.

“Could be for me,” Jensen says casually, tone steady, calming. When Dean relaxes slightly, he adds, in that same tone, “Could be for you.”


Slow and unthreatening, Jensen moves on the bed, closer to Dean, and lays his hand on Dean’s cheek, making him meet his eyes. “I know you’ve thought about it. Wondered what it would feel like if it was with somebody who doesn’t want to hurt you, or use you.” He leans even closer, his face mere inches from Dean’s. “Dean, it can feel good. It can feel great. Let me show you.”

He pulls back then, putting more space between them, leaving the choice solely up to Dean.

And Dean says, “Show me.”

Jensen nods, but instead of doing anything, he hangs back. “You two first.”

Dean enters Danneel, his eyes locked into hers, wordlessly singing praise to her body and, it seems, also her soul, while Jensen moves behind Dean, and watches, and for the time being, waits.

Dean starts out slow – it seems to be his favorite way – and only picks up his pace when Danneel starts moaning and thrashing under him. His thrusts are controlled, deep and aimed to bring her pleasure, which in turn seems to give him pleasure as he drinks in every little sound she makes, swallowing them right from her mouth.

He groans when her walls clench around him as she orgasms again, dropping his forehead to hers, breathing in her air. “Danneel,” he whispers hoarsely, and kisses her thoroughly before lifting himself to his hands and knees, pulling out.

Danneel helps him get rid of the condom and then scoots up the bed, staying close but giving him and Jensen some space, in case they need it.

“I wanna do it like this,” Dean tells Jensen over his shoulder, following Danneel up the bed, hiding his face between her breasts. Automatically, Danneel’s hands go to Dean’s head, holding him close.

“We don’t have to,” Jensen says. No inflection, no judgement.

“I want to,” is Dean’s reply, and Dean lifts up his ass a little, spreads his legs for Jensen.

“Alright then.” Jensen reaches for the condom and lube. He rolls the condom on first, then pours a hefty dose of lube into his palm, warming it up before his hand moves to Dean’s ass, where Danneel can’t see, sadly. “I’m gonna touch you now.”

Dean flinches, then lets out a breath, and relaxes. “O-okay.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop or slow down.”

“What I want is for you to– Shit!” Dean’s head shoots up.

“Good?” Jensen asks, and a relieved grin spreads across his face when Dean nods. “Alright, now let’s see what happens if I do this.”

“Shit!” Dean yelps again, his fingers digging into Danneel’s upper arms harder than they have before, when he was fully in control of himself. “Do that again.”

It’s probably good that Dean can’t see Jensen’s face right now, the smug smirk might piss him off. “See? Told you.” But that’s all the teasing Jensen does, and then he’s back to serious concentration and careful fingers opening Dean up until Dean’s begging for it, begging for more.

“Shh, I got you,” Jensen whispers, and a moment later, Dean makes a surprised noise and starts up. Jensen’s brows knit together in concern, and he stops moving. “Too much?”

Dean takes his time before answering. “No,” he says at last, his hands finding Danneel’s, fingers interlacing. “Just weird. But okay.”

“Alright.” Jensen takes it slow, much slower than Danneel takes it on those occasions where she wears her strap-on and fucks her husband until he screams himself hoarse, but eventually Jensen lets out a heavy, satisfied breath, meeting Danneel’s eyes over the expanse of Dean’s bowed back, and nods. “Good?” He asks once more, and when Dean hums affirmatively into Danneel’s skin, he draws back a bit, then pushes forward.

Dean’s gone still and almost silent, as if he’s deciding whether he likes this or not, but after a while, Danneel can feel him start to rock back. Just a little at first, tiny movements as he meets Jensen’s steady, careful thrusts, but it doesn’t take long before he raises to all fours, fucking himself back on Jensen’s cock with increasingly vocal enthusiasm. His head is thrown back in pleasure, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and trained on Danneel as if she’s the only thing grounding him, and he is beautiful.

“You’re doing good, Dean, so good,” she repeats over and over, and he hangs onto those words, even as she sneaks one hand under him to wrap it around his cock and bring him to completion.

He goes quiet again when he comes, retreating somewhere deep inside himself, and Danneel looks away to give him the privacy, looking over him to find Jensen’s face instead, flushed and wild.

“Love you,” Jensen mouths at her, and she silently returns the sentiment, and then he’s groaning his release and all but collapsing onto Dean’s back.

They breathe.

There’s some rearranging of positions, and they end up lying next to one another on the bed, Danneel in the middle, Dean snuggled up to her chest, Jensen on his back and barely even touching her as he cools down.

“So,” Danneel says when they all catch their breath, “good idea?”

“Best idea,” Dean mumbles, while Jensen expresses his agreement with a wordless grunt, already half asleep.

“Best idea,” Danneel repeats, turning to kiss her husband goodnight, then placing a kiss on the top of Dean’s head too.

They sleep.


In the morning, they all get into the shower together – it’s easily big enough for two, but fitting in three people, two of them Jensen-sized, is a bit of a challenge.

Still, they manage to find enough space for Danneel to squeeze herself between Dean’s legs and blow him, Dean’s hands in her wet hair, again so goddamn gentle and careful. Coming from anyone else, it would probably be a little infuriating, but Danneel understands now – it’s not Dean treating her as a precious, fragile flower, it’s Dean having trouble believing he gets to touch, to have. Savoring and cherishing every slightest detail, committing it to his memory.

And she’ll be damned if she doesn’t make sure to give Dean the best memories of their time together that she possibly can.

At first, Dean shows his appreciation with stuttered words of reverent praise, but these turn to breathless moans, fingers tightening on her head, when she takes her mouth off his cock, replacing it with her hand, and starts sucking on his balls instead. After that, it doesn’t take long before he’s shaking above her, spilling his release all over her hand.

He stands under the warm spray, leaning against the tiled wall and trying to regain some composure while Jensen pulls Danneel to her feet and kisses her, deep and messy, chasing Dean’s taste on her tongue, his fingers busy between her legs until she whines into his mouth, shuddering in the firm hold of his arm.

“Your turn,” Dean says, voice hoarse and a little shaky, goes down to his knees in front of Jensen, and without a warning, takes him into his mouth.

Jensen curses, hands twitching helplessly at his sides, reluctant to grab onto Dean’s head the way he does with Danneel sometimes.

As if sensing that, Dean looks up from beneath his thick, water-clumped lashes, and, keeping the head of Jensen’s cock in his mouth, takes Jensen’s hands and puts them on his shoulders to give him something to hold on.

Then, he surges forward, taking more of Jensen’s length into his mouth. And then more again, until his lips, stretched wide, reach the base of Jensen’s cock. This is something Danneel’s never seen outside of porn, and she can’t help but wonder where exactly Dean learned this particular skill.

“Fuck,” Jensen croaks out, sounding absolutely wrecked already, bringing Danneel’s attention back. Fascinated, she watches as Jensen’s cock slides in and out of Dean’s mouth, Dean’s head bobbing. He’s setting the pace, controlling the depth of the thrusts, doing this on his own terms.

Jensen doesn’t seem to mind, soon reduced to those deep, growly whispers that mean he’s getting close. Fingers digging hard into the meat of Dean’s shoulders, he stutters out, “Dean, I’m gonna–“

Dean pulls back at the last moment, finishing Jensen off with his hand, then watching as the water carries Jensen’s come away.

“God, you’re awesome,” Jensen says.

“Thanks, but you can call me Dean.” The tone is typical tough-guy Dean Winchester, but he’s looking away, deflecting from the praise.

And that just won’t do.

“I mean it,” Jensen urges Dean to stand up, meet his eyes. “And I’m not talking about this,” his gaze drops to Dean’s mouth, dark red and swollen and so enticing. “I’m talking about this,” he lays his palm over Dean’s heart, before pressing his lips against Dean’s in a chaste kiss.

Danneel wants to add something, but she’s already realized words don’t go very far with Dean, so all she does is lay her hands on Jensen and Dean’s heads, and then smile at them when they look her way.

“How about breakfast?”


They spend the entire weekend together, eating takeaway pizza and watching movies, acting like kids in the pool, lazing in the soft green grass in the yard. Experimenting in bed until they’re sore and exhausted and spent.

Always sticking close together.

Jensen and Danneel exchange secret smiles whenever they notice Dean relaxing more around them, allowing them in a bit more, letting his guard down, little by little. The more he lets them see of himself, the more they fall in love.


There are moments when Dean will suddenly stop doing whatever he’s doing, and looks around himself as if to make sure he hasn’t just dreamed this all up.

“It’s real, Dean,” Danneel speaks up when she can’t keep silent about it anymore.

Dean shakes his head, and gives her a tight smile, eyes big and sad. “Not really, not for me,” he says. “I’ll have to go back at some point, sooner or later.”

Jensen and Danneel have nothing to say to that, so they just hug him tight.

He lets them.


It’s sooner rather than later.

Three weeks into his stay, in the middle of Sunday dinner, Dean puts down his knife and fork with shaking hands. He’s frowning, and he looks pale, almost sick.

“Something wrong?” Danneel asks, feeling Jensen tense with worry next to her.

“No, I just–“ Dean clutches at his head, eyes screwed shut, face contorted with the pain of what Danneel assumes must be some sort of angel radio. “They think they found a way to get rid of Amara,” he says when he’s able to speak again. “But we gotta act fast.”

“You’re leaving.” Danneel’s heart drops to her stomach like a lead weight. It hurts to breathe.

“Now?” Jensen asks, standing up.

“Yeah, now,” Dean stands up too, quickly walking over to Danneel, who can’t make her legs move, and bending down to kiss her. Kiss her goodbye. “Thank you,” he whispers, and before she has a chance to respond, he’s already turning to Jensen. “Thank you,” he repeats as they shake hands, and Danneel can’t see Dean’s face now, only the rigid line of his back, the determined set of his shoulders in Jensen’s AKF t-shirt.

“Kick it in the ass,” Jensen tells him, and Dean chuckles and says, “You bet,” and then he’s gone.

The clock in the dining room is ticking loudly in the dead silence that has set in.

When Danneel finds her voice, she’s almost afraid to ask, “You think he’ll be okay?”

Jensen finally moves, collapsing into Dean’s empty chair. “He has to. He will be.”

Danneel nods, pulling herself to her feet only to take the few wobbling steps over to Jensen, and sits on his lap. She lets him draw her close and tucks her head beneath his chin, curling up against his chest. “He will be.”