SamXReaderXDean Matters of the Heart

You had pretended to be a xenoarcheologist, and that, you supposed, was where the problem began. You were a linguist, a talented linguist.

It was a late Saturday afternoon, and you were observing a crime scene with a journalist’s permit. You told the police you were a writer studying alien cultures and languages. What better way to get the boys in blue to totally ignore your snooping?

The actual case involved several malfunctioning portals to various fairy realms, but that’s a story for another time.
During the event, you met the Winchesters, a couple of men who did what you did. They were hunters, and they asked you to join them at as their official linguist.

It was a chance to work up close and personal with demons, angels, and an entire plethora of creatures you had never had the pleasure to observe. How could you refuse?

The boys were in desperate need of somebody to translate ancient manuscripts on demand. Sam was proficient in Spanish and Latin, as well as conversational in French. Dean was more along the lines of light-everything-on-fire-with-a-flamethrower.

Bobby was an excellent linguist, but you both had much to learn from one another, and a lot to offer in aiding the battle of good against evil, man against monster, wherever it may lead you.

However, beyond having a talent for language and a desire to help others, there was a secret you would not dare tell your new family of hunters.

You were dying.

And had you known the Winchesters would take such a liking to you, you might have refused their offer of partnership altogether.

- - - - - - - - -

The Winchesters were no strangers to love and loss, but they did have astoundingly different taste in women.

That is to say, it came as a great surprise to everyone when they both formed a strong attraction to yours truly.

Sam absolutely adored you, and he realized his adoration in many ways. He liked how you couldn’t stand spicy foods, wrinkling your nose whenever something was too hot for you and immediately going to search for a glass of milk. He liked how you wore socks every moment of the day, how you hated reality TV. He liked to watch you drift off while reading French, the sonorous language having the same effect on you as a mug of hot chocolate.

But Sam wasn’t the only one who loved you.

Dean thought you were the most wonderful woman he had ever met. He liked how you didn’t care if your hair looked like a bird’s nest. He thought your quick wit was endearing and found your ability to speak in so many tongues not only sexy, but bordering on magical. You were kind to him and interested in all he had to say, and despite your intellectual ways, you had never once made him feel stupid.

So what’s a linguist to do when Sam and Dean Winchester are in love with her? Well, that’s easy. Absolutely nothing. You see, you did have one regrettable flaw that the Winchesters would soon learn of.

You were incredibly socially oblivious. Flirting with you was like trying to flirt with a coma patient.

It really doesn’t go anywhere.  

- - - - - - - - -

“________!” Sam and Dean walked through the door, back from a long hunt involving a Hindu goddess who was killing men who cheated on their wives.

“Welcome back, Sam, Dean. And victorious, I hear?”

“Absolutely.” Sam smiled. “I have another souvenir.” He tossed you a small box.

Your eyes lit up as you opened it, and a red jewel the size of a grape tumbled into your palm.

Sam grinned at your elated expression. “That’s a ruby from the headdress of Parvati. It was the only thing left of her after, well, you know.”

You smiled sadly. “Well, it’s a shame more of the old gods can’t be reasoned with. Although, knowing mythology, there are more than enough goddesses of love to go around.”

“And thanks for this.” You said, raising the red jewel. “We should have it made into an amulet. It could be useful.”

Sam bit his lip and sighed. “Yeah, useful.”

The two brothers shared a competitive look. Sam rolled his eyes and retreated to the library, whereas Dean took a seat across from you at the table.

He made himself comfortable and turned his attention to you. “How are you with the case about the family of vampires?”

“I’ve translated the captain’s log you found at the nest. It’s lucky they forgot to grab it when they cleared out. You think you guys have secrets?” You slid your translated copy across the table to the hunter. “Think again.”

Dean chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

You smiled, thrilled to share your knowledge. “Listen to this. The leader of the vampire nest you’re hunting, Adam Miller? He was the captain of a wealthy vessel called the Viceroy. In 1793 Miller was taking a cargo of diamonds from Africa to Great Britain. The log talks about a mysterious disease that began to consume the ship’s men. It says that they “drank the blood of their fellow crewmates, preferring it to any food or drink the ship had onboard for the long return journey home”.
Miller’s wife was onboard during the vamp fest. After he was infected, he killed his own vampire crew by sinking the ship and its entire cargo of diamonds. He then escaped with his wife, who was still human, and rowed to a nearby port island where he abandoned his wife and charted a vessel to America.”

“That’s quite a story.” Dean said, watching you all the while with that soft look.

“It is, but I don’t understand. Why would Miller kill all the other vampires onboard, sink the diamonds, and let his wife go instead of turning her?” You asked, confused.

“I think he loved her the way she was. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt her, and he knew that letting all of the vamps go down with the ship and getting as far away from his wife as possible was the only way to make sure she was safe.”

Dean leaned towards you and looked into your eyes. “And I think I know how he felt.” He murmured.

“Of course!” You exclaimed. “Thanks, Dean. You’re always so smart.” You leaned in and pecked Dean on the cheek before running off to the library to tell Sam about the discovery.

Dean rubbed a hand down his face in frustration. What did it take to flirt with this girl?

- - - - - - - - -

Bobby had noticed both of the boys’ affections from the day you moved into the bunker. He ignored it for a while, not wanting to get caught up in the ridiculous drama, but that was exactly what it was starting to become. Ridiculous.

He scoffed when Sam brought you gifts from hunts. He laughed when Dean picked you flowers. He tolerated the boys subtle squabbling over who got to assist you in your study.

But Dean coming down and making himself breakfast wearing nothing but a towel around his waist was crossing a line.

A line drawn in jumbo sharpie which may never be crossed.

Sam dropped the piece of toast he was eating, and Bobby sputtered indignantly before slamming his cup of water *ahem, whiskey* down on the table.

“Put some clothes on, boy!” He shouted.

Dean just looked at his family with a self-satisfied smile. “I’m taking _______ breakfast in bed this morning.” He said as he turned over a piece of bacon.

“Not dressed like that you’re not.” Sam said.

“Sammy, some day you’ll learn that women like to be wooed, not bored.”

“Son, you look like you’re shooting a porno. Do want that poor girl to be wooed, or do you want her brain to shut down?” Bobby asked, still not quite believing what was happening.

“As long as it shuts down the right way.”

Sam threw up his hands and huffed. He was just about to tell his brother off before a small voice interrupted him from the hall.

“What’s all the noise about?” You asked, rubbing your eyes. “Some of us had a long night of translating, so if you wouldn’t mind-“

You stopped and stared at the scene that greeted you. “Um… Am I missing something?”

Bobby looked pointedly at Sam and Dean. “Well, I’ll leave you boys to it.”

“I… was just making you breakfast?” Dean said, more of a question than a statement.

“Smooth, Dean, smooth.” Sam muttered.

“Well that’s sweet.” You smiled. “And I know we’re out of laundry detergent, but I’m sure Sam would be happy to lend you some clothes.” You snatched a piece of bacon off the plate and walked after Bobby, probably to discuss linguistics.

“Dean.” San admonished.

“I know, I know.” He huffed, setting down his fork. “It was a bad idea. It’s just, how are we supposed to get her attention. It’s like trying to teach an 80 year how to use a computer! Don’t give me that look. I know you think this is just as frustrating as I do.”

Sam snorted. “You have no idea. I was watching the Notebook with her yesterday-“

“The Noteboo-“

“-shut up, Dean-and she started crying, and I started telling her what I thought about her, and do you know what she did? She said that I was a good friend.”

“Ehe!”

“Don’t laugh at me. She pretty much just asked you to put some clothes on.”

“Hey, now that’s a little under the belt.” Dean said, enjoying his own joke.

“I’m serious, Dean. We need to tell her how we feel.”

“We, as in, together? I’m not making a move on my girl with my brother. There will be no group moving.”

Sam sighed. “Look, I don’t like it either, but whether she chooses you, me, or neither, this is whole thing is absurd.”

Dean nodded and sighed in resignation, before looking up at Sam. He held out a hand. “May the best man win.”

Sam smiled. “May the man she loves win…”










“Now will you please put on some pants.”

- - - - - - -

You and the Winchesters were in Bobby’s sitting room, thankfully not with the older hunter, as they prepared to tell what they had been trying to insinuate ever since they met you.

“________, we have something to tell you.” Sam paused and shared a look at his brother.

Dean continued for him. “We both love you.”

“Aww, I love you both too. You guys have been such good friends and hunting partners.”

“Dammit, we love you! We are in love with you.” Dean said hoarsely.

You gave them a blank look. “Wait… You don’t mean… Sam, is that true?”

The hunter nodded, looking at you with a crinkled brow and sympathetic eyes.

Your entire expression changed into something complicated. You looked happy, then sad, as if you couldn’t decide.

“I-uh… I need to go.” You stood quickly.

“I’m sorry-“ You said, breaking off in a sob, before turning and exiting the room. By the time the boys got up to follow you, you were gone.

But one of them knew exactly where to find you.