Supernatural One Shots

Communication Issues / Dean

Warnings: Arguing

Pairing: Dean and Y/N

The dimly lit bar buzzed with the hum of laughter and clinking glasses as Sam, Dean, and I found ourselves nestled in a corner booth. The scent of whiskey and the rhythmic beat of classic rock provided the perfect backdrop to our night out. The atmosphere was easygoing, a nice change of scenery compared to the bloody barn we had recently dealt with.

Dean and Sam Winchester, my partners in hunting and mischief, sat on either side of me in a cozy corner booth. The evening started with casual toasts and easy banter. The brothers shared tales from their adventures, and I, in turn, regaled them with my own stories before I joined them.

While we spoke, the whiskey began to dry up, making us play a game of rock, paper, and scissors to see who'd get the next round. Sam and Dean raised their fists in victory as they both had rocks as I had paper. With a sigh, I crawled over Deans's lap with newfound confidence from whiskey courage. Feeling the gentle buzz from the drinks I had enjoyed earlier, I sauntered toward the bar with a playful sway in my step.

I've always liked Dean. His presence is magnetic, drawing attention with every confident step and sly smirk. The more I've worked with the Winchester brothers, the more I've fallen for him. Have I told him? Hell no. I know Dean, how he's only looking for a quick fuck and nothing more. No matter how much I like Dean, I would never do that. Not only would it change our dynamic, but it would hurt me to see him continue to prance around with different girls in every town we stopped in.

Walking away from the booth, the room swayed more than usual, and the edges of my sight seemed slightly blurry. I'm definitely more intoxicated than I originally thought. As I settled onto a barstool, the bartender shot me a knowing grin. I returned it with a sheepish smile, my cheeks flushed with the warmth of the alcohol coursing through my veins. The friendly banter of those around me melded into a comforting background melody.

With a playful twirl of the stool, I surveyed the room, my eyes catching on the diverse characters—couples lost in whispered conversations, friends sharing hearty laughs, and solitary souls nursing their drinks at the bar. While looking around, my eyes caught a devilishly handsome man. Was he Dean Winchester hot? No. Was he hot enough to keep me company for a night? Yes. I winked his way, returning to the bar to order another drink. This wasn't like me, but who sometimes doesn't need a bit of male validation. I sure as hell don't get it back home at the Bunker.

The stranger approached, his confidence evident in how he carried himself to the bar and sat beside me. "Well, hi there." He beamed, his voice laced with the smell of alcohol. "What's a gorgeous girl like you sittin' at the bar all by herself?"

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "Grabbing another round for myself and friends, we're celebrating after a rough night. What's your name?"

"Jon, I'm sure I can help you celebrate sugar." He grinned, placing a hand on your thigh.

The action made a full-body shudder take place. His grin seemed to grow when it happened, maybe thinking my body's response was a good reaction? Well, it wasn't. I suddenly felt uncomfortable, my gut telling me to return to my boys. Before I could even stand, his hand was removed by another. "Get the hell away from my girl." The gruffness of the voice drew both mine and Jon's attention behind us.

There stood a very pissed off Dean Winchester. Dean was quick to pull me off the bar stool, roughly, may I add.

"What the fuck Dean?" I whispered, happy to be pulled away but pissed that Dean was making choices for me. If I wanted to mess around with someone at the bar, I could fucking mess around with someone at a bar. He had no say in the matter. Dean shook my response off, his eyes not leaving Jon.