Entry for nichelle-my-belle’s 4K Angst Challenge (thanks for including me)
Pairings : Dean x Reader, Sam
Warning : ANGST, First Time Writer (constructive feedback welcome)
Word Count : 2,616
The last thing you wanted to do was go ‘celebrate’ tonight.
You were grateful this had been a simple salt and burn. Too many of the cases lately were taking their toll on you — on all of you. You’d spent so much time on the road recently; you’d almost forgotten what the bunker looked like. You missed the privacy of your own room; the big open spaces throughout the old building; the library that you could lose yourself in. For several weeks, you’d been shoulder to shoulder with Sam and Dean. The three of you stuck in Baby, sharing one room, one bathroom and too often, a bed with one of them.
In the tight
quarters of the car or a dingy hotel room, there was nowhere for you to hide. Several side-glances from Sam let you know
that in your exhausted state, your facade was starting to fail. When you were focused on a job, you could
ignore your feelings for Dean; sticking your nose in a book or keeping your
eyes glued to the screen of your laptop.
But with this run, there were too many nights with the three of you
holed up, beaten and bloody, trying to get some sleep before the next long
drive, with nothing to do but
think. You couldn’t shut out the world
around you when Your World sat on the
bed next to you arguing with Sam, drinking beer, intent on watching some
horrible old cowboy movie. You tried to
participate, but every time you looked at him, relaxing… smiling… it splintered
your heart just a little more. The last
few nights you’d feigned exhaustion; pretending to fall asleep early and
forcing the two of them to do the same.
You lay awake, listening to Sam softly snoring and Dean’s deep breathing
to make sure they were both asleep before letting the tears quietly fall.
But tonight, once you got back to your motel, Dean demanded that you all go out for one last “hurrah” before the long drive back to the bunker in the morning. You loathed going out with Dean and Sam. You’d take your place in the same corner booth that every bar across America had; counting down the minutes until Dean wandered off and found a busty bombshell to charm his way into for the night. Sometimes Sam would stay with you, but there were times when he gave you those sad puppy dog eyes, pleading to be set free. You’d smile, the same smile, pushing him out of his chair; complaining he was “cock-blocking” you and with a sweet, silly grin he’d be off to find his own companion to help him forget for a little while.
You never drank as much as you did after meeting the Winchesters. The alcohol helped you momentarily forget the horrors that your day-to-day brought you. Sometimes it even lessened the pain of losing your mother and sister all too young to werewolves, forcing you into the Hunting life. But as much as you tried, the alcohol never seemed to squelch the fire in you that burned for Dean.
yourself, town after town, watching him endlessly twist women around his little
finger. Longingly, you memorized every
move; him leaning into the bar lightly brushing the girl’s shoulder with his,
buying her a drink, introducing himself with a harmless handshake. He’d pretend not to hear her over the sounds
in the bar so he’d lean into her ear, his face just a little too close to hers,
his hot breath giving her chills as she became intoxicated by his cologne.
That’s the move he’d repeat, lingering longer each time; sometimes resting a
hand on her thigh to ‘balance’
himself or push a strand of her hair behind her ear, but you knew once his hand
began to trail along her arm he’d be nodding towards the door, throwing some
money on the bar with a wink and help her to her feet. Then his hand would be on the small of her
back, whispering something in her ear to make her giggle as they headed out the
You knew every piece
of his repertoire, including the rare occasion when it wasn’t working. You couldn’t imagine any woman saying no to
Dean Winchester, but you were grateful when they did. He’d come back to the table – to you – and
you’d spend the rest of the night laughing and drinking, sometimes making fun
of Sam awkwardly trying to pick up a girl.
Those times were getting fewer and farther between, but you cherished
those occasions, knowing it was the closest you’d ever get to having him.
This night you decided to take a little longer with your hair and make-up. You had snuck away in the last town and bought yourself a new pair of jeans and low-cut top. You wanted to feel good about you. You wanted someone to notice you. You wanted a man to notice you, and since you knew that man wouldn’t be Dean, you would need every bit of external “ammunition” to help you boost your confidence to pull this off.
“Y/N/N! Shake your ass!” Dean bellowed as you put the finishing touches on your look, taking a deep breath and opening the door.
“What the hell took you – “ Dean stopped mid-sentence and just stared. His silence made Sam look and a goofy grin spread across his face.
“Whoa! You look beautiful Y/N.” Sam sang. “Hot date tonight?”
“We’ll see.” You tried to joke to release some of your own tension.
“Let’s go.” Dean snatched his keys off the dresser and stalked out the door.
Sam shrugged and followed with you hot on his heels.
The ride to the bar
was uncomfortable. Sam tried to make
conversation, but every time he turned to talk to you, Dean fiddled with the
radio; the static or high pitched squeal drowning Sam out. When you parked in front of the local bar,
Sam ran around to the driver side to catch Dean.
“What the fuck is going on?” He demanded. “You’ve been acting like an asshole since before we left!”
Dean looked at you over his shoulder and back to Sam, “I’m fine Sammy. I just need a drink.”
You and Sam looked for a place for the three of you to sit while Dean ordered at the bar. When he came back, he sat next to you, putting you between him and Sam in the booth. You tried to focus on the music; just watching the people around the room. Sam leaned in and whispered about the guy two tables over that was already way too drunk for this early in the night.
When the waitress walked over, you formed a knot in your stomach. She was just Dean’s type and you knew he’d be disappearing soon. She tried to catch his attention, leaning unnecessarily far over the table to sit down three beers and three shot glasses. Her presence didn’t even register to Dean until she spoke.
“Here Honey,’ she said to you as she set down another shot glass. “This one is from the blonde at the end of the bar.”
All three of you leaned over at once as the man nodded back with a smile. You smiled and lifted the glass mouthing a silent “thank you”, but his smile suddenly became wide-eyed fear as you felt Dean’s body tensed and stare lingered.
“What an asshole.” Dean said with a huff.
“What do you mean?” Y/N asked.
“You’re sitting here with two other guys and he buys you a drink? How does he know you’re not with one of us?”
You chuckled, annoyed, and shook your head, “Seriously?”
“What?” He was getting pissed.
“Forget it.” You huffed, but he wouldn’t let it go. “How many nights have I sat next to you in a bar with women shamelessly throwing themselves at you or you throwing yourself at them? Apparently like everyone else, they don’t think I’m your type!” Now you were pissed. You pushed at Sam to get out of the booth and walked to the ladies room trying desperately not to cry. Fuck him! Why should he care? Whether it was Mr. Rogers or Charlie Manson buying you a drink, it was none of his business.
Sam just glared at Dean in disbelief.
“What?!” Dean yelled at him. “Knock of the bitch-face and tell me what just happened?”
“You really don’t see it?
“She’s obviously in love with you Dean. Has been for months. And you’re too stupid to see it or realize what you could have. Watching you trot off with a different girl every town…. All that anger and jealousy you’re feeling right now, she’s bottled it up over and over again. I guess tonight was the last straw…” Sam slammed his shot, grabbed his beer and walked away.
Dean sat there, confused and angry. He rubbed his face, combed his fingers through his hair and cursed at both of you under his breath. Dean loathed trying to find a distraction in every town. He hated how many times he started a random make-out session in the parking lot, ending it by pretending to be too sick or too drunk to follow through, because it wasn’t you. He loved you and hated himself for it. He wanted so much better for you; someone who could get you out of this Hunter’s life and keep you safe. He wanted to forget you; forget the softness of your skin when you’d help sew him up after a fight. Forget the sweet smell of your hair just after a shower. Forget the sound of your laughter when you made fun of Sam. Forget how sexy you looked holding a gun. But most of all, he desperately needed to forget how you looked in his fantasies, laying underneath him while he made you scream his name.
Dean angrily slammed his shot,
and both of yours, before taking his beer to go find a Distraction.
You looked at yourself in the
mirror, damning yourself for letting him get to you – again. Asshole! You took another deep breath
and decided to go back to your old stand-by – get drunk and pass out. You’d be at the bunker in the morning and
could hide in your room and try to pretend tonight didn’t happen. You headed
back in the bar to find Sam.
Dean found his Distraction at
the pool table. She was too blonde, too made up, too little clothing, too loud
and too obvious – the exact opposite of you.
He grabbed another shot at the bar as he watched her, getting her
attention. She smiled, bending just a
little bit more at the waist when she took her next shot. He knew he was going to hate himself, playing
this game again, but just one more night and he’d be back at the bunker, hiding
in his room, trying to pretend tonight didn’t happen. Another shot later and he made his way over
to the pool table.
Sam must have been watching for you because as soon as you walked back into the bar, he was on you.
“Y/N/N! Come hang out with me.” You looked around the bar until your eyes landed on Dean. Your whole demeanor changed and Sam felt it. “Please, don’t do this to yourself. He’s being an asshole.”
“Sam. It’s ok. I’m not his type and I never will be. I just need to get over it.”
“No, she’s not his type.” He said pointing towards Dean. “He’s in love with you, I know it. He just doesn’t believe he deserves you.”
“Sammy – “ you started to scold when he stopped you.
“Y/N do you trust me?”
“Of course, but –“
He stepped closer. Holding your face in his hands and leaned to whisper in your ear. “Go. Show. Him. I’m not wrong about my brother.”
Your heart was racing. If you
took this risk and Dean didn’t respond, you’d be devastated. Devastated and
homeless; it would be impossible to stay at the bunker after that. You’d lose him and Sam. But if Sam was right, and Dean loved you like
you loved him…. Your mind could even wrap around the thought.
“Come on, Y/N/N.” Sam whispered. You nodded as you tried to get a grip before walking towards them.
Dean was now drunk, but his mind
was still on you. He never saw you walk
out of the bathroom and didn’t know where Sam was. His stomach was sick with the thought that
you’d left with the guy from the bar. The Distraction was talking, but he
wasn’t really listening. He’d smile and nod, rubbing against her once in awhile
to keep her there. He slumped on the
bar stool watching The Distraction entertain herself while his mind drifted.
She slinked over to where he sat and whispered in his ear, “Why don’t we get outta here, baby.”
“Onemoregame.” He slurred, trying to delay just a little longer. She whimpered and nuzzled into his neck. He sloppily wrapped his arm around her back in a haphazard hug.
“I’ll play.” You said as you approached the table.
Dean stood up nearly knocking The Distraction over. He didn’t say anything as his eyes wandered over your body, back to your face to try to read what was happening. The Distraction stepped closer again to Dean wrapping her arm around him.
“No thanks.” She snarled at you.
“Come on. We can make it interesting.” You cooed. “Winner takes him home?” You pointed at Dean and he swallowed hard.
“I don’t think – “ The Distraction started, but Dean cut her off.
“I’m game.” He shot around her. “I uh… I win either way.” He winked at you knowing your superior skills playing pool.
“Fine.” The Distraction conceded before grabbing Dean’s face and kissing him hard. She walked over to set up the balls at the opposite end of table, when Dean grabbed your arm.
“Don’t you dare lose.” He whispered.
“I don’t plan on it.” You whispered back, brazenly nipping at his ear. You thought you heard him growl before you walked over to grab a pool stick.
“Please, you go first.” You offered to The Distraction’s further frustration.
“Watch yourself, little girl. You’re swimming in the deep end now.” She warned, as she broke open the game.
Dean held his breath as one solid ball fell in the pocket.
“I guess I’m stripes.” You walked slowly around the table, lining up shot after shot as each ball fell away from the table. The Distraction was fuming; poorly trying to hide her emotions. When you called the last ball for the top left pocket, Dean held his breath. When it fell in the hole, he jumped out of his seat pumping his fist.
“You aren’t really going home with this slut, are you?’ she questioned him.
“It’s Y/N, by the way.” You winked, holding out your hand to Dean as if introducing yourself for the first time.
“Dean.” He played along, sliding his hand though your hair to the back of her head and pulling you to him for a kiss. You felt your knees weaken and your heart sing. He pulled back, breathing heavy as he rested his forehead against yours, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, I’m so going home with her, sweetheart.” He answered The Distraction as he wrapped an arm around your waist and started to lead you out the door. “We may not even make it out of the parking lot.”
His hand was on the small of your back, whispering in your ear making you giggle as you headed out the door.