SPN One Shots... (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Cross-Check To The Heart (AU, Ex-HockeyPlayer!Dean)

Warnings: age gap, injured reader, mentions of past hockey related injuries, alone on Christmas, a little angst, mostly fluff

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"Easy. Easy, don't sit up too fast." Said the man crouching next to you. Your backside feeling cold as you laid on the ice of the skating rink.

"Ugh," you groaned, pushing yourself up slowly, "what happened?"

"You got taken out by a twelve-year-old and bumped your head. How many fingers do you see?" He asked, holding up a couple of fingers in your eye-line.

"Two." You squinted and rubbed your eyes.

"Good. Do you wanna try getting up?" He asked. You nodded, looking at him for the first time and recognizing him as the owner of the place. "I'm going to put my hands under your arms to help you up and make sure you don't fall down again. Okay?"

You nodded once more, the green eyed man practically lifting you to your feet with little effort from yourself. He helped you off of the ice, removing your skates and showing you into his office. Easing you down on the couch and grabbing a bottle of water for you.

"Are you feeling dizzy at all?" He asked, sitting next to you, unscrewing the cap of the bottle when you struggled with it.

"Thanks," you breathed, taking a sip before answering him. "Not so much anymore."

"Alright, you'll let me know if that changes, yeah?" He asked and you nodded again.

He was always a little gruff with you and your friends and didn't allow for any rowdiness on the ice. He was a bit of a hard-ass and come to think of it, you'd never caught his name. Most people just knew him as the old grump that took care of the place even if he didn't look all that old to you. You capped the water bottle, setting it next to yourself on the couch.

"What's your name, anyways?" You rubbed the back of your head, feeling a little bump forming.

"Dean Winchester," he smiled, "you're, Y/N. Right?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" You tilted your head, scrunching your brows.

"I pay attention." He shrugged, noticing you shiver. He tugged the blanket off the back of the couch, placing it over your lap. "I'll be right back."

Your eyelids were heavy but you knew better than to fall asleep after hitting your head, so you tried to keep your mind busy. You tentatively stood up, wrapping the blanket around yourself and took a look around the office.

There was an old photograph tucked into the frame of a mirror on the wall. You carefully took it out, turning it over to see it was dated nearly fifteen years ago. It was of a young man in a college hockey uniform, posing with a stick on the ice. He was quite a bit younger and his hair was a lot longer, but it was Dean.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, his voice getting gruffer when he realized what you were holding. "Put that back."

"I didn't know you played." You said, tucking the photograph back into the frame.

"Why would you? You never ask." He muttered, handing you a mug of hot chocolate from the tray he'd set on his desk.

"You're not exactly the most approachable guy I've ever met." You said, sighing at the warmth of it under your palms. "You could've introduced yourself too, ya know."

"And say what?"

"Hi, would've been a good start." You sipped on the warm chocolatey goodness.

"Hi."