this is exactly how it sounds. 1.7k of dean being heterosexual as fuck
Dean Winchester is straight. Ask anyone.
He’s in his element around women. Whether he’s smooth talking their numbers out of Starbucks patrons or buying them drinks at bars, Dean Winchester is a woman’s man. He likes curves and softness and women.
Men… unsettle him, somehow. There’s something about how so many of them are big enough to look him directly in the eyes when he’s talking to them. Or how some of them are incredibly strong. Like this one bartender — Dean spent about 45 minutes considering if his fingers would even touch if he wrapped both his hands around his bicep.
He almost asked the guy if he could try, but that would be ridiculous and could be misinterpreted. So he did what any normal person would do and rationalized that the man’s bicep was roughly as thick as his hotel alarm clock. So as soon as he and Sam got back to the hotel, Dean beelined toward the nightstand and wrapped his hands around it.
“Dean?” Sam deadpanned, watching Dean cradle the clock.
Fuck. It was so close. Dean’s fingers could just meet, but now that he had it in his hands, was this the best proxy for the bicep? It was such a close call that a centimeter would matter. Would he really never know?
Dean huffed. Now he’ll be thinking about it all night. And Dean will invariably end up getting frustrated and having to go to the bathroom to jerk off just to calm down.
Dean spun and gingerly held up the alarm clock for Sam’s inspection.
“Hey, uh, would you say this is about how big the bartenders arm was?” Dean asked casually, lowering his voice in a way that says I’m asking because I’m a man.
Sam’s face made a quick series of expressions that made it clear he thought Dean was insane.
“I have no idea, Dean,” Sam said slowly. “I can’t say I noticed his arm at all.”
Dean rolled his eyes. Considering Sam was the smart one, he could be so obtuse sometimes.
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