Dean x Reader One Shots

You Were My First Kiss (Fluff) (Dean x Reader reunited)

Word Count: 5,419

You knocked on the door of the old man's house, your eyes squinting from the sun even though you were wearing an especially dark pair of aviator sunglasses plus a ball cap with a visor, the latter of which served a couple purposes: firstly it was supposed to be keeping the sun from your eyes, which obviously wasn't working very well, and it also functioned as a cover to the helmet head you inevitably managed to acquire. Even though the bike was now broken and propped up on the gravel driveway, no more than an elaborate mix of metal and batteries, helmet head was an issue.

When no one came to the door you raised your hand up once again and knocked a few more times, bringing your hand back down to rest in the pocket of your jeans while you waited. It normally didn't take Singer this long to answer, so you leaned back a bit to see if his usual car was in; when you saw it parked in the driveway, you frowned and looked back at the door.

"Singer," you yelled at the door before knocking once again, "Singer, it's Palomo, I need to know if I can use your shop to fix up my bike."

There was a shuffle from within the house and you heard several voices, the only one that sounded familiar was the one that belonged to Singer. When the door swung open and you were greeted by the old drunk with a shotgun in his hands, you smiled and tilted your head to the side.

"I was starting to think you were dead, Singer," you raised a hand and patted his shoulder before pushing past him and into the house, unaffected by the gun that had been pointing at you. By the time you passed him and walked into the living area of the house, Singer had dropped the gun back to his side and began questioning you, asking what you were doing there, why you weren't answering his calls (all typical questions), but you had frozen, your eyes wide, your mouth embarrassingly slack.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, his face likely being a good mirror to your own before he smiled and walked across the room, his arms stretched out to his sides before he pulled you into a tight hug. "Sally damn Lachet," his hands wrapped around your upper arms and he pushed you away slightly, the smile still broad on his face when he added, "I haven't heard a lick about you since you left, how have you been?"

"Sally Lachet?" Singer's bland, questioning voice came from behind and you turned to him, taking your sunglasses off and hooking them on the front of your tank top. "That's a new one."

"We've all got a few names though, don't we?" You put your hands in the pockets of your jeans, your back now to Dean while you faced Singer and nodded toward him once. "My bike broke down a couple miles down the road, is there any chance you'd let me stay here a few days until I can get it back up and running?"

"Sally?" This time it was Sam's voice that came from the doorway that separated the kitchen and living room, and you dropped your eyes to the ground after hearing the voice. Slapping a smile on your face you turned to your left and were immediately slammed into another tight hug. "Oh my gosh, how have you been?"

"Isn't this just a regular reunion," you muttered before pushing yourself away from Sam. He was smiling down at you, surprise evident in his expression, so you only nodded to him once, then Dean, then turned back to Singer. "How about it? I got four hundred in my wallet and can maybe scratch together another couple if you give me a few days in the town, but—"

"Nah, you know the rules," Singer waved you off before walking to your left and toward the kitchen, setting the shotgun down against the rocking chair before gesturing toward the fridge. "If you do the work, I won't charge. You want a beer or anything?"

You felt Sam and Dean staring at you and you figured their questioning gazes were attributed mostly to your basic ignorance of them, but you weren't willing to start a conversation about it; this was awkward, not something you had been expecting, and while you were happy to see that the Winchesters had managed to survive for nearly a decade since you'd last seen them, that didn't mean you wanted to dwell in their presence. You were busy after all, and you needed to fix up your bike and get on to your next hunt before some rookie hunters got themselves killed.