Dean Winchester X Reader imagines/one-shots

Night Rider

I roll onto my side peering at the alarm clock. It was the early morning, enough so that Sam and Dean should still be in their own respective rooms attempting to sleep.

 A few minutes pass by. 

Fuck

I groan swinging my body to the side of my bed letting my legs hang off. Getting off the bed, I rub my eyes and run my fingers through my hair trying to get the matted out. Attempting to wipe the grogginess from my being as I leave my room. 

I walk to the kitchen hoping a cup of joe would solve 90% of my problems. Unaware of Dean's presence in the room I grab a mug from the cabinet. It was chipped on the lip and the ceramic was stained but it worked nonetheless. 

"Morning sunshine."

Almost dropping my coffee in process, I turn towards Dean's voice with a puzzling expression.

"Damn it Dean, you scared the shit out of me."

The man had to have been up for hours already or simply never went to bed. He was still sporting the same attire from the other days hunt and dirt still lingered on his face. 

Dean chuckles, looking down slightly, "Yean...sorry about that. Just couldn't sleep ya know? Well, of course you know, you're up too." Feeling foolish Dean answers his own question. In hopes of making the room less awkward he searches for the keys to the impala. 

Holding the keys up to my view Dean cocks his head to the side waiting for my response. I smirk at Dean, this can only mean one thing. Setting my mug down I skip over to him. I grab the collar of his leather jacket pulling him forward planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Let's ride."

------------------------------

Nights like this were fortuitous. 

The night air felt more crisp, the music just that much more blissful, and the glow of the stars painted a scenic cover. 

There is an unspoken truth when it comes to the two of them. No labels have been said. No feelings have been dealt with. 

What is known and is the spoken truth though is the sex. 

The sex. The booze. The occasionally joint.

No one settles down in this line of work, and so when two individuals have needs that need to be met it, well that story writes itself. 

I pop open the glove compartment, sorting through the mountain of cassettes tapes, and tossing back the ones with no interest until I come across what I need. 

Dean scoffs at the actions "Hey, hey, if you're gonna go crazy- just don't break my cassette taps man."

I smirk. Dean notices the look on my face preparing for the ensemble of mixed-matched songs accompanied by the girls voice. 

Ejecting the old tap out, I put the new one in waiting for the tunes to set in. A unique guitar lick plays followed by the smooth tenor voice of Glen Campbell. I start to bellow out the lyrics of my beloved song ignoring Dean's comments about hippie banjo music playing in his car. 

"OLDDDDDD MANNNNNNN!" I look over at Dean mid-tangent urging him to sing along with me. Deciding against his better judgement, and the lack of a younger brother to document this, Dean joins in the next verse. 

"Feel so good
Feel so good, it's frightening
Wish I could
Stop this world from fighting"

I start to laugh while singing the words. Something about Dean Winchester's gravel of a voice singing Southern Nights was hypnotic. He notices me laughing at him, warning to never speak of about this again. 

That was how the night went. 

Music. 

Laughter. 

The occasional longing glance. 

Perhaps in another universe the two were doing this exact same thing, but the unspoken truth and feelings dealt with. One were the supernatural didn't existence and they could ride out into the night with no fear of death. 

But atlas this is what they have.

Sex so primal, dangers around every corner, and of course, the late night drives. 

If you've made it this far, congratulations! 

Until next time, 

Wisteria