sexy-dean

7

8x12 | As Time Goes By

Guh, this scene! It feels like a perfect cocktail of my favourite kinks: Sleeping Dean! Sam’s amazing bedhair! Sam hitting Dean awake like a little kid! Purgatory survivor Dean simply curling himself further into his pillow because he knows it’s Sam and Sam means safety! Single layers! Grumpy princess Dean! Bossy Sam! Sam’s huffy chest! Dean’s cute socked feet! Full bodyshots! …

2

“How gentlemanly of you. Careful Dean, your bad boy reputation is on the line.”

“Hey, I’ll take it back if you don’t want it. I’m sure I could find some other way to warm you up…”

“That’s the Winchester I know.”

8

“I’m not Mr. debonair suave. I’m just a regular boy who goofs around, pulls pranks, and makes jokes. That doesn’t sound very hot to me.” -Jensen Ackles And that, sweet Jensen, is exactly what makes you so damn hot.

You Only Have to Ask

Imagine helping Dean shower after he injures his arm on a hunt.

Author’s Note: This was requested quite a while ago, and it just kind of wrote itself. Dean x reader. Reader is headstrong, so her and Dean butt heads. She tries to get him to ask for help. They aren’t together (yet) and have a competitive thing going. I don’t really write smut, and I know some of you are disappointed by that, but I do write some stuff that gets pretty sexy. This is one of those times haha. Warnings: language, blood, injury, conflict, drinking, nudity, suggestive stuff.

Let me know what you think!

“I’m fine!” Dean snapped at me and pushed away my reach with the one good arm he had left. His right shoulder was torn and bleeding, deep teeth marks sinking into the flesh of his tricep. He was anything but okay. He grit his teeth and tried to grab at the marks to stop the gush of blood, but cried out when his fingers met blazingly sensitive nerve endings.

“Dean, let me help you!” His pained face shot in my direction, nostrils flaring. The adrenaline from his attack was fading and he suddenly he remembered why he was furious.

“You idiot! You almost got yourself killed!” He gestured to the half-dead chupacabra at his feet and glared at me with rage. “You’re lucky I came along and saved your ass!”

I scoffed and pulled the revolver from my belt, waving it in the air from where I stood. “I had it under control Dean, until you came barging in like a bat out of hell.” I spun the metal chamber, aimed down at fatally wounded creature, and squeezed the trigger. A ear-splitting shot rang out as it heaved it’s dying breath, the silver bullet sending it straight to purgatory where it belonged. I made a point of making eye contact with Dean as I returned the weapon to the back of my jeans. “Now that that’s done with. Let me help you.” I extended a hand towards my partner but he only stared back with a bent brow.

“Don’t be coy. You ignored what I said! I told you not to go after it by yourself, and what do you do the minute I turn around? This is your fault!” He winced at the failed attempt to move his right arm, the blood now soaked through his ragged shirt sleeve. I rolled my eyes and pushed past his weak attempts to hold me back. I wasn’t about to watch him bleed to death over some stupid power struggle. I quickly unsnapped the front of my plaid blouse and shivered when the cold air hit my bare shoulders. Thankfully I always wore a tank top just in case. The blue and green pattern quickly became a solid stain of red as I wrapped it around his bicep and tied it off forcefully.

Dean grunted when I squeezed the wound tightly between my two hands. “Pressure stops bleeding. Push here.” His wide eyes were watching my every move, but he didn’t seem to register what was happening. A deadly mix of adrenaline and blood loss was clouding his understanding. I pressed my fingers in the spot again, bringing a snarl to his lip. “Hey, listen to me. I’m not ruining this shirt for nothing, Winchester.” My voice was authoritative and stern, the only sure way to get his attention. He begrudgingly complied and pressed his hand over the damp fabric. Dean and I were more alike than he’d care to admit. Our pride got us into plenty of these petty arguments, and with Sam not around it was even worse than usual. We walked towards the Impala side by side. That was one thing I loved about being his hunting partner, he saw me as an equal. The only reason he bothered to fight with me so much was because he recognized we were of level rank with each other. He still fought to take the lead when danger arose, but at the end of the day we were always just like this, side by side.

When he instinctively reached for the door handle I nudged him away. “Really Dean? I think you’re going to have to let me drive Baby this time.” He cast a quick glance down at his unmoving arm and sighed resignedly. I could tell this was paining him just as much as his wound. He circled around to the passenger side and winced as he eased his aching body down into the seat.

*

 After what felt like an endless drive back to the motel, we sat together on a dingy couch. The sound of the neighbors television covered the wounded noises that spilled from Dean’s lips. “You’re going to have to let me sew this up.”

I attempted to peel back a corner of his ripped shirt to examine the bite marks but he retracted. “Oh like hell I will.” His mouth was pressed together in distain, proof that he was still pissed at me for what had happened earlier.“Apparently you think your fine hunting by yourself, so I can do this by myself.” His large fingers fumbled with the sewing kit on the table beside us. It didn’t help that he was attempting to gracefully use his left and less predominant hand to thread the needle.

I watched him struggle for a moment before I laid my fingers over his. His eyes flicked up at mine, green iris ablaze with frustration. “Seriously Dean, is it going to kill you to ask for help for once?” He heaved a sigh and looked off in another direction. The hand that was struggling with the sewing equipment slid out from under mine and grabbed a bottle of whiskey I had retrieved as antiseptic. He took several long swallows before slamming it back down on the table, his breath stained alcohol.

“No, what’s going to kill me is risking my ass to help you.”

Satisfied that he had sufficiently berated me for my wrongdoing, Dean stayed fairly quiet as I tended to his wound. Every time I looked up at him he was staring off in another direction, though I could have sworn I felt his gaze heavy on me as I worked. “You really should have gone to a hospital.” Dean sucked in a strained breath through his teeth as I threaded the needle in his skin. The whole room smelled like coppery blood and whiskey, not exactly the cleanly medicinal odor of an emergency room.

“How do you know how to do that?” I furrowed my brow at the voice in my ear and tried to focus on the task at hand. After a while he spoke again, this time dipping his head closer to watch me suture. The scruff of his cheek brushed mine as he examined the half closed gash. “I mean, you don’t exactly come off as the sewing type. So where did you learn to do this so well?” Sometimes I forgot that there was still a lot about my past Dean was oblivious to. Talking about the days before hunting never seemed appropriate, unless everyone was sufficiently drunk and eager to unbox some painful memories.

I could tell he wasn’t going to leave the matter alone, not when he was still searching for a distraction from the stinging sensation of metal being driven through tender flesh. “I was going to be a nurse.” He cocked his head and looked at me through different eyes. His glance was curious, almost as if he was trying to imagine me in an alternate life. “I was in med school you know, when I got sucked into this whole hunting thing. I just wanted to help people, to heal them.” I pulled the string tight on my last suture and tied it off. “Killing monsters isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it is still helping people I guess.”

I patted his good arm to remind him that I had finished the job and began gathering up the bloody rags on the table. “At first I couldn’t kill anything. I hated the idea of being responsible for something bleeding, even something evil.” Dean watched me with interest as I spoke, my mindless body cleaning up the messy couch. “So I just stayed in the Roadhouse and started a little makeshift clinic. I patched up hunters when they came back all busted up. Just a whole lot of removing bullets and doing that-” I gestured towards his closed wound. “But eventually the men I kept taping together stopped coming back. No matter how many times I bandaged them up, they still got killed eventually.” I sighed deeply and stared into the distance, my mind filled with the faces of men I would have done anything to save. I didn’t hear Dean rising up from the couch when he did.

“So, that’s when I knew that I had to be a hunter. I had to kill those sons of bitches before they took anymore lives down with them. It’s messy and people don’t always think it’s the right thing, but sometimes protecting is just as important as healing.” I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder and then run down he slumped curve of my back. Dean’s face was sober, and for the first time he didn’t look remotely angry with me anymore. His teeth ground in sadness instead of frustration.

“Well you did one hell of a job.” I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the stitches in his arm or my attempt to live a life of saving others, but something in the way his fingers lingered comfortingly on my spine suggested the latter.

*

The next morning I was sitting on the motel bed when I heard Dean swearing in the bathroom. The cursing was followed by banging and shuffling noises as he struggled to do something outside of his ability. I smiled to myself and shook my head. I had told him that it would be more sore today, but he, of course, just brushed me off and continued his routine like nothing was wrong.

A loud sigh echoed in the adjacent room before he finally gathered the nerve to speak.”Y/N, can you… I mean could you, come here?” I rolled my eyes and strolled towards the restroom, arms crossed proudly over my chest.

“What, Dean? It’s not that hard to just ask-” When I pushed open the door my words caught in my throat. Every bit of the confidence in my stance melted away as I took in the sight in front of me.

Dean was leaning against the aged floral wallpaper, his body weight pressing against the muscles of his good arm. Sweat from pain and exertion glistening on his forehead and trickling down the edge of his chin. His wounded limb was held tightly to his bare chest, the bandage still dark with dried blood. I could see where he had torn at the edges in attempt to remove the fabric, but to no avail. He looked completely exhausted and desperate. Wide eyes blinked at me from underneath a brow that was furrowed in agony. “Y/N, please help me?” My heart was pounding as I carefully unwound the wrappings on his arm. I could sense his eyes watching my every move and feel his hot breath blowing down to graze my face. I wasn’t sure why I felt so nervous, you’d think I was the one injured. I tried to keep my breathing steady as I painstaking separated the fabric from his wound, although it stuck and pulled against the delicate tissue. “Ugh-” Dean groaned and leaned forward, his chest resting on my shoulder. I felt my temperature rising against his heated skin.

“Sorry.” I muttered an apology as the last bit of bandage came off with a sickening ripping noise. The man resting on me panted and used his good hand to grip my shoulder. He pushed himself away and examined the reddened gash. “It looks pretty nasty, even sewn. You really should shower and try to get cleaned up so it won’t get infected.” I could tell from the apprehension in his eyes that he didn’t consider that possible.

His working arm was visibly shaking and he looked unable to move another inch. “I don’t have time for this slowing me down.” He growled his words and tried to grab the towel off the wall but the motion sent shooting pains up his to his sutures.

“Easy there, the skins going to be tighter today. The healing process is going to be a bitch.” Dean was frustrated now, his nostrils flaring. If he had two good arms they’d probably be thrown up in exasperation.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to shower? I can’t even lift this arm above my head and the other one is as good as useless!” He glared at me, eyebrows pulled together in misdirected accusation. He was right, he probably would be more likely to injure himself than anything else. Suddenly an idea came to mind and brought with it a tinge of red to my cheeks. If Dean was going to do this right he was going to need to get over his pride.

I stepped to the shower and turned the knob deftly, aware that my partner was still watching in annoyance. I retrieved the towel from the hook and threw it over my shoulder. “Well, why don’t you let me help you?” Dean’a jaw fell open and his eyes became wide. He looked me up and down incredulously, almost afraid that my invitation was some kind of trap. “Well quit your stuttering Winchester, you’re not going to get this offer twice.”

*

“This is humiliating.” I rolled my eyes at the whining voice coming from inside the shower stall. I was already wearing nothing but a black tank top and the boy shorts I slept in, so I had no problem stepping into the water semi dressed. Dean, on the other hand, was completely naked when I pulled open the plastic curtain. I couldn’t stifle a laugh, the hand flying up to shield my eyes landing over my mouth instead.

He grinned shyly and shrugged. “What? I’m not getting soaking wet with clothes on, that’s disgusting.” I bit my tongue in an attempt to stop smiling like an idiot and tried to keep my eyes on his upper body, which was just as mesmerizing as the rest of him. “I thought you wanted to be a nurse, you should be used to this kind of stuff.” Last time I checked most of my prospective patients weren’t nearly as attractive as the man standing before me. He straightened up taller and cocked his head slightly, the smirk on his lips issuing a challenge. “Or is this too intimidating for you?” How had he managed to make a situation that was about him needing assistance into me being too weak? Always a power struggle.

“Actually Dean,” I turned his broad shoulders to the side so I could face his wound and not the entirely of his body. “I’m not the one should be nervous.” I laid the washcloth that I had been wetting in my hands over his laceration and watched as he grit his teeth. The warmth and steam from the shower would hopefully draw some of the infection out of his swollen skin. I tended to the spot carefully, occasionally letting my eyes wander to the streams of water that were glancing down Dean’s expanding chest. “Hold this here so the shower doesn’t get it saturated too much.” He complied and his fingers landed firmly over mine before I could remove them. I could have been imagining it but his eyes seemed glossy as he stared back at me. I felt my heart beat faster as his gaze drifted over my wet locks and the clothing clinging to my body. I hurriedly grabbed the bottle of shampoo and emptied it into my palm. Dean’s hair was still speckled with dried blood from the struggle with the Chupacabra. I rubbed the lather over my hands until it was a mass of suds and stood on my tip toes behind Dean to reach his head.

He let out a low chuckle when I slipped a little and bumped into his back. I was thankful that he couldn’t see how red my face was. “Real smooth aren’t you, nurse Y/N?” He exhaled in annoyance when I wiped a soapy hand across his cheek. Despite my effort it was still difficult to reach his head. After a few more attempts he turned around, leaving me speechless and stuttering in the face of his fully glory. He seemed please with my reaction. “Here,” Suddenly he was bending down to my level, letting his head drop to a more manageable height. I could see him grimace in shame but his eyes soon fell shut with satisfaction when I returned to washing his hair.

As I scrubbed my fingers over his scalp, I watched the suds slipping down the curves of his neck and back, flowing the muscles as they flexed and swelled. Hard to believe a man with this much power needed help just to wash his own hair.

After I was finished I pushed him towards the shower head to rinse. “So do you want me to wash your body or are you not familiar with soap and how it works?” He let out an exaggerated imitation of my laugh and turned back around, his mouth twisted in a mix of frustration and desire.

“You know it’s not very fair, you being dressed and me being all vulnerable.” His stuck out his lower lip slightly and mumbled his words like a needy child. The darkness in his eyes was paralyzing as he shamelessly looked me over. He swallowed loudly, but any advances he might have made were restricted by his only good hand being occupied with the washcloth. “Maybe I should ask for help more often.” He drew dangerously close, water from his wet hair dripping down my face as he bent over me. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my breast. I took a deep breath and a bold step closer to Dean.

When I was only inches from his chest I stopped and leaned to his ear, one hand placed over his sternum. My snarky smirk was evident in the sound of my voice. “Or maybe you should just trust that I can handle myself, and not get yourself injured like some amateur.” I placed extra pronunciation on the word amateur and heard him grind his teeth together. My free arm was reaching behind him and clicked the shower into the off position, only furthering his annoyance. We stood face to face, both smoldering with anger and sexual frustration in the lingering steam surrounding us. The tension was palatable, rolling over our skin as if the water was still spraying from above. We were both rigid with pride and breathing heavy with passion.

Finally Dean leaned down to my face, his lips a teasing length from mine. I’m not sure what I anticipated, but it wasn’t his calm response. “Thanks for your help.” I was dumbfounded by his lack of a reaction, and a little disappointed. But something in his eyes told me that our little spat wasn’t over quite yet.

*

Dean was the first one to get out of the shower and I stayed behind, slightly dejected and unsure of what to do about my soaked clothing. After some consideration I pulled the clingy material from my skin and laid it over the curtain rod to drip. I could hear the bathroom door close as Dean exited the room and knew it was safe to leave. As I pulled the plastic sheet aside I became very aware that my only hope of getting dry had just left with room with my partner.

“Dean! You took the only towel!” I groaned and shivered in the empty cold of the shower stall. Now that the water was no longer running it was chilly and uncomfortable. “Hey!” When the door slowly creaked open I cowered behind the curtain, only my head peeking out.

Dean’s ear-to-ear smile made him look like the cockiest son of a bitch I’d ever seen. He was leaning against the door frame, his good arm holding a perfectly dry towel. The one he had used for himself was cinched around his lean waist. He bit his lip in a failed attempt to not grin, but he was far too pleased with himself for that.

“What, you need this?” He shook the towel in his hand and didn’t move an inch closer to me. Moisture was still running down his chest and shattering on the edge of his towel. I sighed and glared from my position behind the cold plastic. My stare was met by eyes that were almost entirely dilated pupils, hungry and black as sin.

“Yes, Dean, you assho-” he clicked his tongue at me and shook his head. I should have expected phrase that came out of his mouth next. Just like him to lie in wait for the perfect opportunity to throw my words back at me. What a tease.

“If you need help drying off, you only have to ask.”

 


p.s I really like the medic backstory for reader. I think that could totally be explore in a different fic.