Dean X Male Reader One Shots

Comfort Where It's Needed

Hi, sorry I've been absent for a little bit. Getting ready for college in the fall is kicking my ass. Anyways, here you go. I don't really know what this is supposed to be but it popped into my head. Enjoy  ~ Magnus (He/they)

Oh god, where am I? What time is it? You run your hands over your body and check to make sure that everything is intact. Everything seems to be in one piece. Your legs go wobbly when you try to take a step and you realize they're practically numb. You must have been rooted to this spot for ages because your feet ache. You stumble and almost fall at your first step. Catching yourself on the edge of a dresser you wait for your legs to regain some semblance of balance before you try again. Slow and careful steps get you to the door. You open it to a blast of wind. The chill sends daggers straight to your bones. You step out into the chill, shutting the door behind you. You have no idea where you are or why you're there. There's snow floating down from the sky. The parking lot has only a few cars in it and they're covered in the quickly falling snow. You see a cheerily lit office and cross the lot headed that way. Your shoulders are hunched up to your ears to block the wind. The icy wind rips right through your flannel and you shiver, walking just a tad faster towards the lit windows. Hoping that it will be warm, you pull open the door and are quick to shut it behind you. The front counter is manned by an older woman who looks like she's been smoking six packs a day since before you were born.

"Hi there! Where's your coat? You must be awfully cold. Come on in and warm yourself up." You shuffle closer to the counter.

"Ma'am could you tell me where I am and what day it is? I've not the foggiest clue." The look she gives you is a strange one. She raises an eyebrow and stares at you for a moment before turning to a small desk calendar. It is February the 16th, 2021, and you are in Hell." You give her a startled look and she blurt laughs. "Hell, Michigan. You're in Hell, Michigan." I feel very stupid now. You see a home phone sitting next to the register and you point at it.

"Could I use that ma'am? I'd like to call someone to come get me." She hands the phone over to you with no question and you dial the number that you know by heart. It rings 3 times before someone picks up on the other end.

"Yeah?"

"Dean, it's me." The silence on the other end is suffocating. You hear him take in a deep breath.

"I don't know who you think you are, but this is a sick fucking joke. Lose my number." He hangs up before you can get another word out and you lower the phone. Staring at it, you dial the other number you know and it gets picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?" Sam's voice is like soothing music to your ears.

"Sam this isn't a joke. It's me. I'm in Hell, Michigan. I have no idea how the fuck I got here but I came to in a motel." You glance around for some signage and spot a sign. "Linda's Motel. I'm at Linda's Motel." You hear muffled talking and Sam's voice comes back through.

"We're on our way ok You're lucky we're close. We should be about 2 and a half hours if Dean doesn't kill us on the way there first. Dean, speed limit dude! You're gonna get us killed before we can get to him! Do you know how you got there?"

"I have no idea. I came out of whatever state I was in in one of the motel rooms here and it felt like I had been standing there for so long that my legs had fallen asleep. I almost fell when trying to take my first step. I have no idea how I got here and I had no idea what day it was when I came out of my fugue. I'll be here. Tell Dean that I'm ok and not to worry. Come to the office whenever you get here." You exchange your goodbyes and you hang up. You hand the phone back to her. "I don't suppose that you're Linda are you?" The woman smiles and affirms that she is, in fact, the Linda of Linda's motel. She ducks beneath the counter and pulls out her purse. She digs around until she finds what she's looking for. Pulling out a wallet, she opens it and hands you a 20 dollar bill. You look startled.

"Go get something to eat. There's a diner just across the street." You don't reach out to take the money immediately and she shakes it at you. You take it from her and peer out the window. Another door leads out to a road and across that road you can see the lights of an old style diner. You give her profuse thanks, which she shakes off, and open the door into the chilly night. Once again huddled against the chill you play a bit of winter time frogger and manage to cross the road. Pushing open the door with a shoulder, you sigh in relief at the flood of heat that washes over you. It's pure heaven compared to the chill of Michigan. I will never be visiting again during the winter time unless properly clothed. Mental note taken. The few patrons of the place look up at the blast of arctic air. A small shy wave gives them no pause and they go back to their conversations and plates of greasy food. A 20-ish year old stands behind the counter and seems to be waiting for you to decide what to do. You shuffle up to the counter and ask if you could order something. The worker nods and tells you that you can take a seat wherever and someone will be over with a menu shortly. Thanking them, you slide into a solitary booth in the corner. Snow continues to fall from the sky and it blankets everything covering up the remains of dirty grey snow crushed underneath car tires. A bored looking middle aged woman comes up to you in a turquoise uniform. She hands you a menu and asks if she can get you started with anything to drink. You tell her that you didn't really care as long as it was warm, but you would prefer hot chocolate if they had it. She confirms they do and she goes off to get you a mug. Your eyes drift over the laminated menu, the plastic reflecting the brightness of the snow directly into your eyes. You blink a couple times your eyes watering and the feeling hits you. You miss Dean. You miss him so badly your body aches and you can feel your heart physically hurt. The waitress returns with a steaming mug of hot cocoa and sets it down in front of you. She digs a pad of paper out of her apron and pulls a pen out from behind her ear.

"What'll it be?" You realize that you've been staring in absent silence at the menu the whole time she's been gone and not actually reading it. You scan it quickly and settle on something called the farmer's breakfast. She takes the menu from you and walks back to the swinging kitchen door. You set your head down on your arms and stare out the window watching the world go by. Seldom a car passes as if the residents of Hell, Michigan are smart enough to know it's stupid to be out in this weather. A lone figure trudges towards the entrance of the diner, bundled up in so many layers you can't tell if they're a person of the Michelin man. A plate of food is set down in front of you and you startle.

"Sorry dear, didn't mean to scare you. You alright? You were spaced out pretty hard there."

"Yeah, I've had a long day and I'm exhausted." Her mouth twists in a sympathetic grimace.

"I totally understand. Enjoy your food." You thank her and tuck into your food. Your stomach is so empty and hollow you guess that this is your first meal in a very long time. You sip from your mug, slightly scalding your tongue. Unawares, a heavy tired feeling creeps up on you. You continue to munch on the breakfast in front of you until you don't want to eat anymore. You set the crumpled 20 down on the table and tell her to keep the change. She thanks you and tells you to have a nice day. As you push the door open you look up and you see it. A sleep black 1967 Chevy Impala. You're suddenly invigorated. Despite the peril, you go sprinting across the slushy parking lot. Giving a quick glance you go sprinting across the road. The door above the motel office jingles and two figures step out just as you step foot onto the road.

"DEAN!" His head snaps around at the sound of his name and he hesitates for a moment before taking off at a dead run. You meet each other at the edge of the sidewalk. You collide and his arms wrap around you. In that moment you know you are home. Wherever he is is where you should be. The smell of him surrounds you and you burst into heaving sobs. He holds you so closely and you feel him tighten his arms as if he never wants to let go.

"Don't ever leave me again. Understand?"

"Never, Dean. Never."