Two Lost Souls: A Dean Winchester Imagine
So this is my first Dean imagine, which is kinda short compared to my Sam one, but hope you guys like it x
“So, what are we drinking?”
The man in front of you looked up. He had clearly been in a world of his own.
“I’m sorry?” he seemed to register you were standing there, and for a moment, you found yourself getting lost in his own green eyes, delving into the beautiful bliss they provided.
However, this was cut short when he spoke again, a voice like velvet floating into your ears, “What did you say?”
“I asked what you wanted to drink. You’re at a bar, people usually come here to drink.”
The man’s eyes raked down your body, and you felt yourself blush as he took in every inch of you, from the top of your head to the glass in your hand.
“Just a beer.”
“Coming right up,” you turned reluctantly, not quite wanting to escape the gaze of your latest customer.
When you turned back, he appeared to be back in that little world of his. He looked so thoughtful, so damaged, it made your heart hurt.
“You okay there, buddy?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” he snapped out of his daze quickly enough, nodding his head in gratitude as he took the first sip from the beer you’d placed on the bench.
“Well, just gimme a shout if you want anything.”
“When do you get off?”
You stopped in your tracks, the question racing through your mind. Sure, plenty of people had asked that question, plenty of people had been turned down. But this man, he was different. He had an edge to him that enticed you. He seemed broken and hurt, maybe just as much as you.
“In half an hour.”
He smiled, the sight giving you goosebumps.
“See you then, uh…”
“Y/N. Suits you. I’m Dean.”
You tucked your hair behind your ear, attempting to hide your own smile.
“See you then, Dean.”
When what seemed like the longest half an hour of your life had passed, you found Dean sitting in the same spot where you had first met him.
You stifled your laugh at the irony. Maybe serving each other drinks would become your thing.
Before you knew it, Dean had jumped over the bar, grabbing a bottle of beer and giving it to you.
“You know, I could get into trouble for letting you do that.”
“Only if you tell anyone you did.”
You both laughed, the smell of the alcohol on his breath strangely intoxicating.
“So, Y/N, tell me about you.”
Suddenly, you felt yourself wanting to reveal everything to this man. The urge was overwhelming, like you had known him for years. The urge to be near him was even more so. If he left, you weren’t sure you would be able to breathe.
“Um, I’m just kinda moving around I guess. Going place to place, never really settling.”
That pretty much summed it up.
“Join the club,” Dean took another sip of his beer, “Life on the road, listening to the same old music in the same old car with the same old people. Of course, the car is, well, the car’s my baby.”
You and Dean talked like what seemed for hours, him telling you about his family business with his brother, you telling him about the money you were saving up for a new car.
He was the first nice guy you had met in ages, but you knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to last.
When the night drew to an end, you felt deeply saddened by the fact that you may never meet Dean again, and you could tell by the look on his face that he felt the same way about you.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Y/N.”
“You too, Dean.”
He leaned over, and you found yourself once again lost in the deep green whirlpools that were his eyes. He placed a light kiss on your cheek, and pressed a crumpled up piece of paper in your hand.
“Call me,” and with that, he walked out the door.
You touched your cheek, the lingering feeling of his lips on your skin sending shivers down your spine.
You took note of the paper in your hand, instantly seeing the phone number that had been scrawled across it.
Dean Winchester, A Fellow Lost Soul.