The Lamppost
Summary: Dean develops a crush on the reader but isn’t sure how to act on it...
Pairing: Dean x reader
Word Count: 1,600ish
Warnings: none
A/N: Written in Dean’s POV...
A/N #2: Written for @d-s-winchester ‘s Fall in Love with Fall challenge where my prompt was the image above. Fall is my favorite season and this is one of those unique fics that quickly became one of my favorites...
The first time I saw her, she never looked up. She was sitting on a bench by a lamppost, reading a book from the look of it with a cup of coffee sitting beside her. It was a gray day, a little chilly to be doing anything sedentary but she seemed completely ignorant to that fact. She was wrapped up in a navy vest with what looked a like a soft gray hoodie underneath, a dark red scarf wrapped around her neck, a warm hat over her head hiding the hair that wasn’t peaking out from her side braid. She had on a pair of dark jeans and boots that had a piece of gum stuck to the bottom she probably wasn’t aware of. For a second I thought she was the cutest hunter I’d ever seen.
But she wasn’t a hunter. She was just some woman enjoying a fall day in the park, getting lost in her story.
When I told Sam I’d go jogging with him again the next day, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. I told him I’d do it the once to appease him but today, I wanted to see if she’d be there again. Rounding the corner on the path, I smiled a little, the same hat on a woman sitting at the bench, staring at her book again. I gave a little grunt as I got closer, hoping to get her attention. Sam nudged me, that look in his eye asking if I as about to keel over. I nudged him back and he rolled his eyes, taking off without me. I knew I was slowing him down and this gave me an excuse to stop now.
She didn’t move at all apart from taking a sip of her coffee. I waited until I was just across from her to bend down and untie my sneaker, still a weird concept for me anyways. If I’m hunting, I’m in a pair of heavy boots, not these lightweight things. But Sam got them for me for my birthday and his face lit up when I used them so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
But she still didn’t move her eyes in my direction, instead flickering back and forth over the pages. She was so lost I didn’t dare disturb her.
Tomorrow I told myself.
I went running by myself the next day, Sam off to help out Jody with something. I didn’t necessarily run until the bend, hoping less sweat would equal better odds. Again she was sitting there and again I faked a shoelace. I glanced over at her, legs crossed, her body completely relaxed, a pair of fingerless gloves on her hands today. She sipped at her coffee she kept in her lap before putting it back in the cardboard tray.
There was another coffee though. Of course she had a boyfriend. There was no way in the world someone that beautiful wouldn’t, that she’d want some flannel and grease stained brute. He probably wore oxfords and worked in a fancy building with a corner office and thought it was cute she spent her mornings here before he took her out for a fancy brunch.
I got up fast and ran hard the whole way back, finally figuring out one thing running was good for.
It was a few days later when I went running in the late afternoon, the dark gray skies spitting rain at first until it was coming down steady. I was pissed. Not at her. She’d never done anything to me. I’d never even met her. I let myself daydream, let myself pretend again. It didn’t work with Lisa. I never gave Jo the shot she should have gotten. It was always doomed and all I would ever have was hunting and that was it.
The lamppost light was on and there was someone sitting under it in a rain coat, apparently enjoying getting soaked as much as I was. I had my hood up and was so focused on going fast I nearly tripped when the person suddenly stood up and walked right in front of me.
“What the hell man!” I said, giving the person a glare. They reached a smaller hand up to their head and pushed their hood back some, revealing the soft face underneath.
Her.
“Hi,” she said, giving me a tiny smile.
“Hi,” I said back too coldly, her face doing a good job of hiding how her body had instinctively taken a step back. But her confidence came back and she got closer, giving me a smile.
“I haven’t seen you the past couple mornings,” she said.
“If you don’t mind, it’s kind of pouring and...” I said, her body stepping out of the way.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she said, her voice going quiet. She started to walk the way I’d came, her head dropping down, her hands fisting around the sleeves of her coat to wrap up her fingers. She was shaking and it was nearly five o’ clock. She had to be frozen to the bone from the looks of it.
“Hey,” I said, her feet stopping in their tracks, her head lifting up and body spining around. “You should get somewhere warm.”
“Yeah,” she said, giving a tiny head nod, turning away again. I bit down a groan and glanced around, trying to figure out how to make this chick not take the long way back to her car. I saw the trashcan nearby and the cups from her, the name Y/N appearing over and over again.
And the name “Cute guy” on about four of them.
“Hey,” I said again, walking over in front of her. “Who’s cute guy?”
“You,” she said, risking a glance up. “I thought you were maybe going to say hi a couple times so I started buying you a coffee to ask you but I got nervous. You haven’t shown up the past couple days and I was kind of cold so I drank yours earlier.”
Oh way to go Winchester. This is all your fault.
“I’m kind of cold. I think I should head home,” she said, the lightest shade of pink on her face, from the cold or nerves I honestly had no idea.
“I’m Dean,” I said, regretting it the second I said it. Sparing her a little pain now only to have it come later wasn’t noble. It was selfish.
“You don’t hear the name often,” she said. “It suits you.”
“Can I buy you a coffee?” I asked, wondering why the hell I was digging myself further in this hole.
“Okay. Actually, no, I’m sorry, I can’t. I really want to but I can’t,” she said, giving me a sad face. “I really would like to but I can’t drag you into my life.”
“I can’t drag you into mine either,” I said, not disappointment on her face but understanding.
“It’s okay. You were nice,” she said, a curious thing to say. She gave almost a wince when she saw my face. “You won’t understand.”
“Try me,” I said, the woman shrugging like there was no point in lying.
“I can’t have a normal relationship. My job is dangerous,” she said.
“So is mine,” I said. She nodded and I gave her one back. “A cup of coffee won’t kill either of us.”
“No strings,” she said.
“No strings.”
We found a coffee shop just down the block, both of us soaking and freezing by the time we got there, wrapping our hands around the scalding hot mugs to warm up. She took a sip and her face scrunched up as she burnt her tongue, poking the tip out like a little kid, trying to soothe away the sudden pain.
She barely said a word and I barely said one back. It was amazingly simple to sit there with a stranger and just take her in, knowing I was allowed to because she was doing it right back. Until her phone rang and the peaceful bubble broke, our not coffee date surely done with.
“That was work,” she said after hanging up. “I have to go.”
“That’s okay,” I said, hearing my own phone go off, glancing down to see it was Sam. “I think my work is calling too.”
“It was nice meeting you, Dean.”
“You too, Y/N.”
For another two weeks we did our little dance, Y/N would read on the bench, I’d take a break for a minute from the jogs I still hated, neither one of us saying anything, neither one of us willing to put an end to it. Until one day she leaned over and grabbed hold of my arm, fingers not even able to wrap around it all the way.
“I have to know. What’s your last name?” she asked.
“Winchester,” I said, a wide smile over her face. “Why is that important?”
“Because maybe we can make it work,” she said. “Hunters stick together right?”
“If I said how to kill a vamp...” I asked, hoping she didn’t think I was nuts.
“Take off the head. None of that stake and garlic stuff,” she said. I sat on the bench next to her, her hand sliding down my arm. “Weaken them with dead man’s blood.”
“You’re a hunter,” I said, moving her hand down to my own. “You’re an actual hunter.”
“I understand if you don’t want to-”
“Do you want to come over for dinner?” I asked. “I’d really...you know people like us don’t get shots like this.”
“Only if it’s a date,” she said.
“It’s definitely a date.”
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