You Just Going to Stand There?
Characters; Dean x Reader
Summary: Dean helps the reader with a home repair. So this was another ‘drabble’ that turned in to a one shot for my 2k celebration. This is for the prompt: “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to help?” requested by @oriona75, Dean, NSFW.
Word Count: 1261
Warnings: Lots of language. SMUT.
As always, feedback is appreciated and welcomed. Tagging the squad at the bottom. Happy reading!
You Just Going to Stand There?
“God damn it.” You’d been battling the pipe under the sink for the better part of an hour. It just would not come loose, now matter how much you swore and cursed at it. Your knees are digging into the cold concrete floor of the bunker kitchen, your head wedged under the sink. “Bastard! Fucking asshole!” Sure, yelling at an inanimate object didn’t actually fix anything, but hey, it felt good.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dean’s voice reverberates through the cavernous kitchen.
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” you throw back with a bit of malice in your voice. “I’m tryin’ to fix this god damn mother fucking pipe!”
A booming laugh sounds behind you. “Shut up Winchester!,” you shout over your shoulder. Pulling yourself out from under the sink, you sit back on your heels, pushing your damp hair off your forehead. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to help?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m kind of enjoyin’ the view.”
Brandishing the wrench in your hand at him, you pull your arm back as if you’re going to throw it at his head. He spreads his hands like he’s trying to approach a wild animal. “Hey, just kidding. Let me take a look.”
Dean gets down on his knees beside you. You get a whiff of him, he’s freshly showered. You’ve never been able to quite pin down his scent, but it’s outdoorsy and fucking manly as hell. He squeezes under the sink and motions for you to follow him. “Oh, here’s the problem.”
Within thirty seconds he’s got the pipe loose. Fucking Dean, always so handy. He holds out a hand for the new pipe and ten minutes later, everything is good as new. “There we go. All good.”
He surprises you by reaching up a hand and running a thumb over your cheek. “You got a little something right here,” he says softly. It surprises you how tender his touch is. It’s a bit startling when he cups your cheek in his palm rather than removing it. “That’s better,” he says, jade eyes locked on to yours. His thumb moves to your bottom lip, gently sweeping across it.
That’s when it happens. He leans forward and kisses you. You’d spent a lot of time dreaming about those lips and how they would feel, how they would taste. All those fantasies were blown out of the water by the real thing. His lips are soft and plush, the stubble of his beard burns sweetly against your chin. Oh Jesus. You were done for.
The kiss breaks off and Dean smiles, a lazy, self-satisfied smile. “C’mon,” he says, scooting out from under the sink. When you shimmy out after him, he stands and holds out his hand, pulling you to your feet. As soon as your topside, his arm snakes around you and pulls you flush to his body. He tilts your chin with with his free hand. Standing on your tiptoes, you wrap an arm around his neck and kiss him again. Sweet lord. Dean backs you up until you feel the kitchen table pressing into your lower back.