Before you knew it, a whole month had gone by.
Throughout the weeks, you had trained with Dean and gone on hunts with the boys. Dean only let you go on the 'easy' cases yet, though. He would only let you come if he was sure you could handle it. If he didn't think you were ready, he'd make you stay at the bunker.
While you protested at first, you could acknowledge that you were still new at this hunting thing. Perhaps Dean was right to keep you away from certain cases for the time being. At least until you had more experience.
This was one of those cases. Sam and Dean had left two days ago and were finally due back tonight. The case hadn't been easy, but they managed to get through it without too much incident.
You had been bored out of your mind while Sam and Dean were gone. So, upon hearing that they were on their way back, you wanted to do something nice for them. You knew how exhausting these cases were and you were bored anyway. Why not cook them a nice dinner to come home to?
You read the recipe for the tenth time, having reached into the trash to retrieve it multiple times by now. You had never been a great cook, but you could manage to cook a pretty decent meal if it came with a detailed recipe. Not that you usually bothered reading the recipe, always thinking you were smart enough to handle it without one.
You wanted it to be perfect this time, though. So, you had retrieved the recipe from the trash and were now adding some final touches to the pasta dish you were making. You only had to remake the sauce twice at this point.
You abandoned the recipe to the side and added the final ingredients to the sauce. Bending down, you checked on the pie you had in the oven. You and Dean shared a love for apple pie and you wanted to make him one from scratch. Luckily, your baking skills were much better than your cooking skills.
A culmination of heavenly scents filled the kitchen along with the music you had playing. You were too wrapped up in your cooking to hear the bunker door open and shut.
"Whatcha doing there?" a voice spoke from behind you.
You let out a yelp, throwing the wooden spoon you were holding towards the voice.
"Hey! I just washed this shirt!" Dean protested.
"Dean!" you called out. "You scared me!"
A wide grin spread on his face. "Are you cooking?"
"No," you defended. "I was just... Alright, fine! Yes, I'm cooking. It was supposed to be a surprise. I thought you'd be home later."
Dean stepped towards you, wrapping his arms around your frame. "You're cooking for me?" he asked incredulously.
"And Sam!" you added. "Don't get too cocky, Winchester!"
He chuckled. "Well, this is a rare occurrence. It's not often we have a woman cook for us."
"Well, don't get used to it too much. I screwed up the sauce twice already," you said bashfully.
"It smells amazing," he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips.
You smiled up at him. "I'm glad you're home safe. Now, go get Sam and sit down. You have dinner to eat."
"Holy shit, (Y/N)!" Dean exclaimed, his mouth full of pasta. "This is awesome!"
You blushed. "You like it?"
Sam nodded enthusiastically. "This is amazing, (Y/N)! I don't know how you made the sauce so- so saucy, but it's amazing."
You laughed. "You boys must be really sleep-deprived, but I'm glad you like it."
"So good," Dean almost moaned.
That made you blush even more.
The past month, you and Dean had been on two more dates. You would have liked to have gone on more, but cases had kept you all busy. Despite having been on four dates, though, you and Dean had not gone further than making out.
For Dean, this was certainly a new experience. He wasn't used to waiting to get intimate with a woman, but since you were his soulmate and not a fling, you had both agreed to take it slow to take off the pressure.
You hadn't slept together yet and, while you were glad to take things slow and get to know each other first, you couldn't deny that this man was hot. And the sounds he was making over your pasta right now were certainly not helping your dilemma.
"Save some room for dessert!" you scolded as Dean reached for his third bowl of pasta.
"Dessert?" he perked up.
You giggled. "I may or may not have baked you a pie from scratch."
The man's mouth fell open, his eyes wide and full of adoration. "You can bake pies?" he breathed.
You nodded. "Very good ones, too. My grandmother taught me and she made the best apple pie in the whole country."
Dean's eyes followed you as you went to grab him a slice of pie. As you set it down in front of him, he nearly started drooling at the mere sight of it. He had never seen such a perfect pie before. And you had baked it. From scratch.
Dean's stomach was full of butterflies, his head swimming in the clouds. A strange feeling settled into his stomach. A feeling that forced him to look back up at you in awe. It was at that moment that Dean just knew.
You really were his soulmate. And damn if he didn't feel it now more than ever as he took in the sight of you with a dust of flour still on your cheek from baking him a pie.
Dean swallowed thickly, turning his eyes back to the pie in an attempt to hide how flustered he was at having someone bake him his favourite pie and look so good doing it. He nearly felt like crying. No one had ever done anything like this for him.
"Dean?" you called, an unsure smile on your face. "You gonna eat that or what?"
Sam, who had already finished his slice of pie, shot his brother a knowing look.
Dean took his fork and lifted it to his lips. He carefully took a bite, his eyes immediately widening in astonishment. "Oh."
You smiled widely. "You like it?"
He nodded furiously as he shovelled the rest of the pie into his mouth.
You laughed at his antics, a soft blush coating your cheeks. You felt light with happiness at seeing him so happy with something you made for him.
"Best damn pie I ever had," Dean grunted, already reaching for another slice. "You are brilliant, woman."
You pecked his cheek. "I suppose I should bake more often?"
"Hell yeah."
<>
That night, as Dean lay in bed with you snuggled up in his arms, he could only stare at you.
His whole life he had refused to let himself dream of this. When his mind would wander off at night to dream of a home, a wife, and a family of his own, he would cut it off. Afraid that if he allowed himself to dream too much, he would lose himself in that despair.
His whole life, he had been convinced that he could never have a life like that. He wished it for Sam, but he didn't dare wish it for himself as much as he wanted it. He couldn't wish it because he never thought he'd have the chance.
But with you in his arms, as you slept soundly, having fallen asleep during the movie you watched, he couldn't help but wish to have the chance at a life like that with you. Where he would come home from a normal job at the end of the day and see you dancing away in the kitchen, baking pies and teaching your children how to make them, too.
That is what love is, Dean thought. That's everything he never dared to dream of, but had always wanted. And he wanted it with you.
He could only hope nothing would get in the way of that.
<>
I hope you're enjoying the story so far! There are plenty more chapters to come :)
Thank you so much for reading! And do leave a comment if you like!