dean taking care of you when you’re drunk
⌗ pairing — dean x f!reader
⌗ warnings — none i don’t think, just dean being protective and sweet :) some suggestive stuff (light grinding, ass squeezing.)
⌗ note — there’s genuinely no point to this, i just started writing. like there’s no plot or specific way it was going to end, it’s just random shit and i apologize for that :,) send in any dean requests you have ! i think i’m lowkey struggling because i don’t have anything good to write atm.
the music was loud. honestly, probably a bit too loud for a bar, but no one seemed to really care. everyone was just shouting over the music, praying and hoping you could hear what they were trying to say. the alcohol was going down like water, and dean, being the concerned and over-protective boyfriend he is, officially cut you off. you were pissed, of course. pestering him about how you’re fine and you’re good, but the way you’re words slurred… shit, maybe you were more drunk than you originally thought.
garrett and hannah were rambling about god knows what, being adorable as fuck, as they do. you and dean sat across the booth, dean’s knuckle dragging up and down your exposed thigh. you let out a frustrated breath, feeling the buzz screaming at you to move, dance, do literally anything. but your body was confined to dean’s side. earlier, he had to drag you off another table for dancing on top of it and a man who was seated at the table tried sneaking pictures up your skirt. so yeah, dean wasn’t in the mood. in fact, he would’ve rather knocked that guys teeth in rather than punish you, but it would’ve been a mess with the whole hockey team and all that. so unfortunately, dean had to deal with you pouting all night while fantasizing about taking that guy out to the back alley and board that motherfucker straight into the brick wall of the bar’s exterior.
dean glanced over at you, leaning in until all you can smell and see is him. “i know you’re mad at me, princess. ‘m sorry. it’s better to have you pouting at me all night than me sitting behind bars for pounding his face in.” dean murmurs softly, his breath carrying heavy notes of beer. even in your drunken state, you knew dean had a point. dean smirks, an idea popping into his head. he grabs your hand, sliding out of the booth and forcing you out with him. “come dance with me?” he smiles, his damn dimples making it impossible to say no. besides, this was what you needed. that alcohol was sitting in your system, bottling up in your veins like mentos in a coke bottle with the cap on, needing release and to be let free.
dean’s hands found your waist, thumbs tracing circles on your hips through your skirt. he pulled you close until your body was pressed flush against his, so close that you could feel his heartbeat against your own chest. despite your indignation at dean, you laid your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. the fucker who tried to sneak a peak up your skirt, and take a picture to make it last longer, was still seated at a table across the bar. and dean couldn’t hide the smirk on his lips knowing you were his and not that sleazebag’s. in fact, dean’s hands were groping your ass all while he he stared the guy down. no, this was definitely better than smashing his face in.
dean used your ass as leverage to press your hips further into his, earning a whimper from you. he realized this was wrong. parading you, teasing you and getting you worked up when you’re drunk. dean never took advantage of you when you were drunk, so his teasing now was uncalled for. you both knew this would end in nothing more than you crashing in his arms by the end of the night. but the whimper that came from you… god, he was tempted to keep you right there on that dance floor and tease you until you soaked your panties so much it dripped on the floor.
before you knew it, dean was scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style out of the bar with your heels dangling off his fingers. the warm summer night air was refreshing as dean carried you down the sidewalk. it was a short walk to his frat house, and he needed the extra exercise with practice coming up. plus, he just loved carrying you, especially when you’re drunk. he loves taking care of his angel.
you insisted that you were okay enough to walk, but dean refused. part of that was a lie anyways, you would definitely trip over your own two feet if dean set you down to walk on your own. your head laid on dean’s chest, still giggling about the guy trying to sneak pictures of you. “are you seriously still laughing about that?” but dean was smiling, he couldn’t help it.
“he was no match for my deanieeee.” you giggled, hiccuping. dean just shook his head, laughing. “that’s right, baby. i’ll mean mug anyone who tries to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.” dean murmured, leaning down and brushing your nose with this. any other day, he would’ve at least given the guy one good punch, but since he was already on watch by the hockey team, he had to be on his best behavior. your hand slide up dean’s back to cup the back of his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his warm lips. and dean carried you all the way back to the frat house, kissing you, laughing with you, not letting you down once not even once you got back to the frat house.
