look-at-their-hands-in-the-first-one

6

El Generico gets his first-ever title shot against Dru Onyx in IWS, 2003.  He comes to the ring with a title belt drawn on his chest in magic marker, brashly confident.  After he loses, chagrined and ashamed of his hubris, he tries to wipe the ink title off.  

He’s eighteen years old here, he’s eighteen years old, how dare he understand the heart of wrestling so well so young?

Accidental Meetings

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: None 
Word Count: 2188
Summary: Based on this post. “I got up at 2 am to get some snacks at the convenience store down the street and opened my door to find you trying to sleep on the floor of the hallway because your roommate has his fiancée over so i guess i’ll lend you my couch for the night AU” and “it’s 3 am and you’re blasting off classic rock at full volume and your music taste might be awesome but some people are trying to sleep.” ‘Y/F/N’ means ‘your full name.’

You couldn’t believe that your brother hadn’t even mentioned the fact that his fiancée was going to stay the night. The apartment the two of you were currently renting together barely had enough room for two people, let alone three - and to add to that, you knew your brother and his fiancée would be all over each other and that was something you didn’t want to see. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy for them - hell, you were delighted your brother had finally found someone he loved - but all the constant affection sometimes irked you. Given that you didn’t want to intrude on the few times they were able to be alone, you grabbed your small backpack filled with little emergency neccessities and quietly slipped out the door without them noticing.

The hallway of the apartment building was exempt of all sound except for rather loud classic rock music coming from down the hall. Although you knew the song and quite liked it, you wouldn’t be able to get any sleep if it kept playing at the volume it was. With a sigh, you walked over to the apartment the music was coming from and and knocked on the door as hard as you could, hoping whoever was in there would be able to hear it. A few impatient moments later, the music grew much quieter and the door opened to reveal a man looking rather annoyed. He was attractive, you had to admit, with a some scruff and vibrant green eyes. But he was also much larger than you and was definitely much taller than you; you had to glance up to meet his eyes. The man was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Clothes you assumed were pajamas.

“Can I help you?” He asked with annoyance, wondering who the hell wanted to bother him so late in the night. Sam was already asleep, having brought noise-cancelling headphones, and you weren’t anyone he knew.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” you started, trying to find a polite way to ask him to keep the noise down. You decided to just be direct. “Look, your music’s great and all, but can you please try to keep it down? People are trying to sleep.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologized sincerely. “I didn’t realize how loud it was - guess I’m used to it.”

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “Hey, at least you were blaring music that was actually good. It could’ve been worse.”

“No kidding. You actually listen to classic rock?” He asked dubiously, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, I grew up with it,” you answered. “That, and my brother doesn’t like it so that’s one more reason to keep it around.”

“Don’t I know it - my brother doesn’t like it either although I think he’s slowly growing used to it,” the stranger chuckled. “I’ll make sure to keep the volume level down though.”

“Thank you,” you replied graciously, already moving away from the door.

“No problem,” he replied easily. “See you around.”

You nodded both as an agreement and as a goodbye as he shut the door with a quiet click, the hallway light reflecting off of the shiny number fifteen that rested in the center of it. You made your way back down the hall and to the staircase near your apartment door that led up to the next floor. Setting your backpack on the first step, you sat down on the worn hallway floor and leaned back against the gray wall. It wasn’t ideal but you didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go - besides, it was only for a few hours. With the quiet of the building acting as a makeshift lullaby, your eyes fluttered shut. Sleep came easy, but just an hour later you were jolted awake by the sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps heading in your direction. You blinked against the light only to find the same stranger from earlier standing about two feet away with an amused smirk resting on his face.

“Well, aren’t you a sight to wake up to,” you joked half-heartedly, your voice drowsy with sleep.

“You aren’t so bad to find either,” he combated with amusement.. “But I gotta wonder why the hell you’re sleeping out here.”

“My brother and his fiancée are in my apartment,” you explained. “You know how it goes.”

“That’s just rough luck,” he chuckled. “You should’ve kicked them out instead of trying to camp out in the middle of the hallway like a nuisance.”

“I am not in the middle of the hallway!” You exclaimed playfully. “If anything, you were the nuisance earlier with your music.”

“You mean the music you actually liked?”

“Even if I liked it, you were being a nuisance because it was so loud,” you smirked victoriously.

“Alright, fine, I’ll give you that one,” he rolled his eyes with a smile. “But you still should’ve kicked them out.”

“Couldn’t have done that when he pays half the rent,” you replied with a sigh. “Besides, it’s only for tonight.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still rough luck,” he replied passively.

You shrugged and began to fiddle with the zipper on your backpack. “If you say so. But what are you doing up and wandering about in the early hours of the day?”

“I was planning to go get some snacks but I got a little side-tracked,” he smirked arrogantly.

You laughed quietly. “Well, don’t let me slow you down.”

“Actually, I was thinking - if you’re still here by the time I get back then I guess you could crash at my place,” he proposed nonchalantly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

You glanced up at him warily, unsure if he was serious. Even then, you didn’t know him all that well. He and his brother had moved in just two days ago and ever since they’d kept to themselves. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Dean,” he clarified with a small, somewhat awkward smile. “Dean Winchester. And you would be?”

“Y/F/N,” you provided. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N. So what do you say?” Dean questioned again.

You hesitated, thinking through all the risks that you could be taking. Dean, although seeming nice enough, could turn out to be your worst nightmare. But while looking up at his earnest green eyes, you realized there was something about him that you drew in; call it a delusion or anything else, but that something made you want to trust him even if it was just for the night. “Promise you’re not a deranged killer?”

He raised three fingers in what you recognized as a Boy Scout’s promise, a child-like grin on his face. “Scout’s honor.”

“Then I guess I have no choice but to accept your offer, Dean,” you replied before smirking. “You know, I didn’t think you were the type to have been a boy scout.”

“I’m a lot of things that you wouldn’t imagine,” he retorted with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“Well, for starters I can play a mean game of pool,” Dean joked, trying not to smile or laugh.

“Oh, come on, that was obvious,” you retorted.

Dean almost looked comically offended. “Yeah, how?”

“It’s the haircut,” you quipped. “Now go get those snacks, Winchester. I’m hungry and tired.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” he held his hands up in a surrender motion. “You don’t have to get all bossy.”

You didn’t reply as you watched him retreat to the building’s front door and quietly slip out of it, letting the door shut with a quiet click. You waited patiently, struggling to stay awake, for Dean to return and when he finally did about ten minutes later you were all but drifting off again. When he approached, you stood up and slung your backpack over your shoulder. “Lead the way, Winchester.”

Dean, with a pie in one hand, pulled his key out of his pocket and led the way back to his apartment. When the two of you stepped inside, you weren’t all that surprised to find that the apartment was void of any personal touches. The soft moonlight coming in from the windows illuminated some of the apartment while the rest was left in darkness. You watched as Dean moved about and set the pie down on top of a small wooden coffee table in the center of the open living room.

“My brother - Sam - he’s sleeping in the back, so we should probably be quiet,” Dean told you in a whisper as you took a seat on the worn beige couch. You nodded in agreement as he walked into the tiny kitchen area and grabbed two paper plates out of one of the cabinets before grabbing two forks and a knife out of one of the drawers. When he was seated next to you, Dean cut two slices out of the pie - pecan, it looked like - and handed the first one to you along with a fork. “That doesn’t mean we need to be totally silent, you know.”

“Sorry,” you murmured. “And thank you for the pie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied casually, already beginning to dig into his slice. “I wasn’t exactly going to come back without something we could share. That would’ve been rude.”

“I’m glad to see you know your manners,” you teased, starting on your own slice.

The pair of you fell into a companionable silence as each of you ate your slices of pie. You had to admit Dean had good taste; both in music and in food, as far as you could tell. With each passing second, you were growing more comfortable around him. The feeling of sudden trust and admiration was foreign to you but oddly enough you liked it; maybe leaving your apartment  wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.

When you finished, you set your plate down on the table in front of you before turning to Dean. “So why did you and Sam decide to move in here?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer; he couldn’t exactly tell you it was for a case and that they were really just hunting a witch they believed to be staying in the same building. Instead, he settled on a safer answer. “For work. Sammy and I are, uh, detectives. We’re just here for a case.”

“You’re a detective?” You asked in astonishment. A detective was the last answer you expected. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously,” he laughed, his eyes lighting up. “Except when it comes to the whole ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine, I’m totally the good cop.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” you teased. “Just like you were totally a boy scout. I’m willing to bet you’re the bad cop most of the time.”

“Hey, that’s hurtful,” he pretended to be offended, holding a hand up to his chest. “I could be the good cop if I wanted.”

“If you wanted, yes,” you agreed. “Doesn’t mean you are.”

“Alright, you got me. I’m the bad cop,” Dean admitted dramatically before turning his gaze to the windows behind you. “Well, would you look at that.”

You glanced behind you to see that it was no longer night; instead of moonlight streaming in, it was now sunlight. The light was soft and outside it was still relatively dark, indicating that it was the early hours of dawn. Neither of you could quite believe it was already morning, having talked the night away. “Morning already?”

“Looks that way,” he sighed, not quite willing to end the conversation. “We should probably get to sleep.”

“Yeah, we should,” you agreed quietly, turning back to face him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that something in his gaze was now a little sad.

“We don’t really actual beds set up, so I hope the couch is okay,” he said apologetically. “Now that I think of it, we also don’t really have any blankets…”

“That’s fine,” you murmured. “And so is the couch. Thank you, again, for letting me stay here. It means a lot, Dean.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “I couldn’t just let you sleep in the hallway like that. Besides, you’re actually really good company.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you laughed as Dean stood up and cleared off the table. When he came back, he stood at the end of the couch. You were saddened to see the conversation come to the end, but if you didn’t neither of you would get any sleep and you were sure Dean had to work in the morning as did you. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Y/N.”

As Dean slipped out of sigh and into the back of the apartment, you couldn’t help but feel like some tremendous had just changed over the course of the last few hours. You laid back down on the worn couch and allowed yourself to drift off once more, but in the back of your mind there was an old saying you couldn’t quite shake:

accidental meetings were never accidental. 


(Part Two Here)