Dean X Male Reader One Shots

What Can I Get For Ya?

Hey everybody! It's really nice to be back. I'm not 100% all the way there, but I think I can manage. These things aren't going to be regular. Just whenever I come up with something. Anyways.......enough of my rambling. Enjoy!

"What can I get ya?" You throw the towel over your shoulder and stand patiently. The man in front of you looks like he's aged 30 years in the last 12 hours.

"Beer and a finger of whiskey," You nod solemnly. A tale as old as time, this one. You see guys like this daily, trying to drown their sorrows in cheap beer and cold whiskey. You slide the beer to him and set the finger of whiskey down. He doesn't say anything to you. Doesn't even acknowledge or thank you, just takes a large gulp from his beer and rubs at his tired face. You mentally shrug and go back to your regular duties. You fill up the other regulars sitting at the bar and make sure everything is wiped down. The sound of the door opening makes you look up. The man is so tall he has to duck a little to fit through the doorway. You greet the man with a smile as he sits down next to your surly newcomer. He raises a hand and asks for a beer. You pop the top off a cold one and slide it to him.

"What are you doing here Dean?" The tall man asks, taking a sip from his beer. The apparently named Dean says nothing and nurses his whiskey wincing slightly at the harsh burn. The tall man sighs and continues to sip at his beer. Eventually, they're both just staring at their empty bottles. Not a word has come out their mouths in an hour or more.

"Can I get you guys anything else?" You say leaning on the counter in front of them. You're exhausted from a long day of serving patrons and these two aren't helping your declining mood. The silence is threatening to box your head in when you sigh in resignation. "Listen you two, I don't know what kind of petty squabble you guys are duking out, but my job is hard enough without two grown men acting like sulky pissed off teenage drama queens. So if you're not gonna order anything else you can pay your tab and get the hell out of my bar. Comprende?" Both men are looking at you now with dour expressions. The tall man sighs and pulls out his wallet. He throws down a 20 on the bar and gives you an apologetic look. He pulls Dean up by the collar of his shirt and drags him along behind him.

You sigh again as the door shuts behind them, leaving you alone in the empty bar. You clean up, wash everything and shut off the lights. Your keys jangle in your hand as you lock the establishment door. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you force yourself to take a deep breath. You can feel something watching you from the shadows, but that isn't unusual for you. Supernatural beings have always been interested in you, ever since childhood.

"Listen, I don't know what you are and I don't much care. I just wanna go home and go to bed. Do we understand each other?" There's a shuffling of footsteps behind you and you huff dropping your bag to the pavement. You fish the silver knife out of your pocket and flick it open. You turn towards your assailant and see that it's the guy from earlier, the tall one.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? I almost knifed you!" You flip your blade closed and pocket it, picking your bag up off the pavement.

"Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier. I'm Sam and the surly one is my brother Dean. I noticed that you carry yourself with a hunter's grace and I know for a fact that the pocket knife you've got is silver. We could use someone like you on a case we're working here in town." You cock your head at him, taking in the details.

"Are you working on that body they found in the river or the dismemberment over on 3rd Street?" Dean speaks up for the first time.

"Dismemberment. We think it was a werewolf. Heart was missing." You nod solemnly. Sounds like a werewolf alright. Your shoulders sink in resignation and you nod.

"I'll help you out, but I'm going home for a shower and some sleep. I've gotta open this place up in the morning." The brothers agree to that and you part ways, phone numbers exchanged. You arrive home and practically throw yourself into your bed. You know you should shower but you slip off to sleep none the wiser.

The harsh ear splitting ring of your cell phone makes you jolt from sleep. There's a puddle of drool underneath your face and your clothes are rumpled. You growl in frustration and scavenge around for your phone. You eventually find it, and it's one of the brothers, Dean to be exact.

"This better be good Dean. I was sound asleep." The derisive snort you hear only fuels the embers of your temper.

"Sorry to wake you sleeping beauty, but we've got a lead. Feel like coming along?" You rub at your eyes and glance at the alarm clock. It's just past 8 AM.

"I've gotta open the bar in 2 hours so you better make this quick." Dean laughs, which makes your heart do a flip. It's a golden and rich sound that sends tiny shivers down your spine. You hang up on him and lay back down. The softness of your blankets pulling you back in, but you shake yourself awake. You drag yourself out of bed and into the shower. Your brain decides to make a mini movie out of the sound of Dean's laugh and it's torturous. You get out, dry off, and get dressed. Your go bag is sitting in the coat closet and when you pull it out a cloud of dust explodes from the bag. You sneeze violently and the dust cloud floats away leaving you in a sneezing fit. Your sinuses decide to settle and you head out the door bag in hand.

On instinct you reach into your jacket pocket feeling for your pocket knife.

"Don't stab me this time," Sam's voice is cheerful and you roll your eyes. You tromp down your front steps towards the sleek black car and you whistle in appreciation. Dean leans down, peering out the passenger window at you.

"You like her? This is my Baby. 1967-"

"Chevrolet Impala, hard top with bench seats, automatic transmission." You finish for him breathlessly gazing in pure lust at the piece of machinery. Dean gives Sam a look and turns back towards you.

"Well, get your ass in. We got a werewolf to catch!"

Many hours later you're bruised, scratched, and bleeding from several spots. You mumble something but you can't hold your head up from the blood loss. The boys manage to make it past the locks on your door and Dean sets you down gently on the couch.

"Find the bathroom Sammy. Grab whatever we need out of there." He turns back to you and grimaces at the sight of your bloody face. Your eyes start to slip closed and he gently smacks your face. "Come on man you gotta stay awake. We've gotta-" His eyes slip out of focus for a second and then he's up. He shouts for Sam and when Sam responds he darts for the other side of the house.

"Dean, you're a genius! Now, how in the hell are we gonna manage to do that?" Dean's expression falls and it's getting harder to keep your eyes open. Your vision swims and you painfully sit up.

"Just stitch me up guys. This isn't anything new for me." Sam's eyebrows hit his hairline.

"You've lost a shit ton of blood." Your smile is a weary and bloody one.

"Stitch me up and stop complaining." They do as you ask. Every step of the way is so painful you have to bite down on something to stifle your screams. You try to focus on something and you find your mind latching onto the roughness of Dean's hands and the calluses of them scraping your skin. The pain seems to diminish as you lock onto those tiny details and you almost cry in relief when Sam hands you a flask and tells you he's done. You take 3 huge gulps out of the flask before Dean is yanking it out of your hand.

"Easy on the liquor. Save some for the rest of us," His easy grin makes your tense muscles relax slightly and you give him a dopey grin of your own. You scrunch your eyes shut and stand, hissing as the stitches pull.

"Hungry?" You limp into the kitchen, the boys following behind you like lost puppies. You gingerly seat yourself at the kitchen island and gesture to them. "Have at it." The pure childlike glee on Dean's face sets your heart aflutter and a small smile appears on your face.

I could get used to this. You think as you watch the brothers throw together anything they can find.