I really hope you feel better, and I hope whatever is causing the cloud of negativity to clear up soon. I'd hope you'll do the prompt "fuck off...I mean it" with a readerxDean please! Thanks so much!
Thank you, babe, it comes and goes to be honest. You just gotta grin and bear it until things clear up. But I’m feeling much better.
This got a bit away from me.
Dean watches from across the bar, he watches as shethrows her hair over her shoulder, watches as she bites into the full plumpline of her bottom lip. Dean watches some asshole sidle up to her only to placehis hand low on the curve of her back, and he can feel the fury burning alonghis skin, can feel the air leave his lungs.
“You gotta breathe, dude,” Sam tries tocalm, taking a long pull from his beer, but Dean finds it hard to hear hisbrother over the ringing in his ears, finds it hard to concentrate when somedick is whispering something that has y/n’s cheeks reddening in response.
Dean watches her throw her head back, soft delicatehand going to her cleavage, a trill superficial laugh falling from her lips.The sound reminds him that this is all fake, helps him pull it all together,because that is definitely not an authentic y/n laugh. The man talking to herright now, he goes to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, hand stopping tothumb just below her lip and Dean catches her eye when she turns to look at himover her shoulder.
She winks at Dean, smiles this tight-lipped smile andDean tips his beer in her direction, mouths ‘You’re doing great.’ And shevisibly relaxes into the man before her.
It pleases Dean beyond belief to know that he canease her worries with just a look in her direction, but it doesn’t change thefact that he thinks this was a bad idea. In fact, Dean is 100% sure this is theworst of ideas. They don’t do baiting, they don’t like risking the life ofsomeone they care about just to catch some monster. But she had been ready tovolunteer, had been gung-ho to play damsel, and Dean didn’t have it in him toargue with her against it.
And while Dean is nervous about whatever sick monsteris out there hunting women in bars, he’s even more terrified about the possibilityof her being swayed into the arms of some lecherous asshole.
“Dude,” Sam chances and Dean’s head swingsin his direction. “There’s no way we’re gonna catch the guy if you spendthe whole night eyeing the low hanging fruit.”
Dean doesn’t like that analogy, doesn’t like the easein Sam’s voice when he says it. “She’s not low hanging fruit,” Deansnaps, words sharp and forceful as they push past his lips. “She’s ourfriend, and she can be in danger.”
Sam chuckles from beside his brother, lets the soundfall from his lips, disbelief so evident that Dean can taste it on the tip ofhis tongue. Dean shoots him a look, daggers pinging from within the forestgreen of his eyes.
“I’m getting another one,” he throws at Samswirling his empty bottle around, ignoring the look Sam sends him as he pushesup from the barstool.
Dean doesn’t need Sam’s judgement, doesn’t need hisknowing glances and snide remarks. Dean needs liquor and the scent of hersmooth skin to calm him down.
The chair next to her opens up just as Dean gets tothe bar. If asked later on, Dean will deny with all his might the fact that hesprinted to catch it before someone else did. But nonetheless, Dean gets hishand on the cracked leather of the stool before someone else does, slides into itcasually as he signals for the bartender.
The low rumble of voices makes it hard for Dean tocatch the whole conversation, but he hears y/n giggle, hears her laugh beforetelling the man, “Oh stop, I am not pretty enough to be a model.”Dean can’t hold back the cackle that flies out of his throat, can’t keep it in,and y/n whirls around to catch his eye.
He pales at the fire in her eye, freezes under herglare.
“Something funny there, mister?” She askshim, and Dean most definitely does not shiver at her tone. The man over hershoulder eyes the back of y/n’s head for a moment, watches intently as Deanlooks her up and down.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” Dean throws back,“Just, this asshole has been chatting you up for so long that I assumedhe’d be past the point of pickup lines.”
Y/n’s jaw ticks as she narrows her eyes at Dean.She’s mad at him, probably because Dean interrupted whatever type of game shehad going, but this guy isn’t who they’re looking for. He didn’t react to theliquid silver in her nail polish when she ran her fingers over the back of hishand, didn’t recoil at the holy water slipped into his gin and tonic; not ademon, not a shifter. He’s useless, but that doesn’t lessen the burning fire iny/n’s gaze.
“Who says it’s a pickup line? You don’t think Icould be a model?” Dean wants to reach across the small distance the barhas put between them, wants to wrap the waves of her hair around his fingers,but he thinks better of it, settles for hiding his wide grin behind the lip ofhis beer. She huffs at his silence, the guy behind her reaching out to gentlywrap his hand around her exposed elbow. Dean watches her pull out of his grip,watches her lean onto the sticky wood of the bar, crowding into Dean’s personalspace, “Hang on–” she’s telling this to the man behindher–“Seriously, am I not pretty enough to be a model.”
Dean places his beer back on the paper coaster layingbefore him, smiles this warm charming smile before meeting her in the middle.“Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful thing in this room right now, themost beautiful thing in most rooms, I’m sure.” Y/n’s eyes widen at hiswords, a soft gasp rolling off her lips and right into Dean’s mouth.
The man behind her calls her name, says it in thisnasally whiny manner that has he rolling her eyes. “Fuck off, yeah?”she throws over her shoulder and Dean smiles out of victory and complete self-satisfaction.
“Seriously?” he questions, like he can’tbelieve for one minute that she’d walk away from whatever he was offering her.But Dean doesn’t doubt for one moment that he can give her everything that dudehas to offer and a million things more.
“Seriously.Fuck off…I mean it.” The man scoffs at her words, sends her a nastyglare mixed an even nastier comment, but neither Dean nor y/n seem to care,seem to pay attention. All Dean can see is the glint of something fierce in hereyes, something primal and inviting.
He watches as she climbs off the stool next to him,watches as she slides between the gap he’s left between his body and the bar.“So…you think I’m beautiful?” She asks and Dean settles for noddinghis confirmation, settles for threading her hair through his fingers until hecan tilt her head up and back.
“God, yes,” he breathes against her mouth,nose nuzzling against hers, the smile on his lips so wide that he can feel thesoft skin of her cheek against them.
“Fuck off,” she laughs against his mouth,and Dean pulls on her bottom lip, “You mean it?” she questions andDean can’t find words strong enough to confirm, can’t find it in him to say it,so he presses forward instead kisses the breath right out of her. He figuresfair is fair, she takes his breath away so he’ll take hers.