Dean x Reader One Shots

Stolen Kisses (Fluff) (Imagine a secret relationship with Dean)

Summary: Imagine having a secret relationship with Dean.

Word Count: 1,447

"Dude, you loaded more salt rounds last time, right?"

"I'm not helpless, Dean."

"Good," Dean nodded once before shoving the last of his now freshly cleaned guns in the beltline of his jeans. "I'm not about to go into battle naked so that's good to hear."

You looked up from your own gun and toward Sam, who shot Dean a look with crinkled eyebrows and a clenched jaw before opening the motel room door, obviously electing not to respond to the comment, and walking out toward the Impala.

Your immediate reaction was to look at Dean, whose lips were spread into a giant smile as he jumped to his feet and walked over to you, grabbed you by the elbows, and stood you up. The gun that had been in your hand found its way to your beltline with the help of your slightly-bound arm just in time for Dean to reach down and take you by the freshly-empty hand while his other hand went up to cup your cheek.

He pressed his forehead to yours.

It was so warm, so soft.

You smiled.

"Can I kiss you really quick?" He whispered, his eyes darting to the door in a subtle lookout for his brother's return. When he looked back at you and saw you nod, saw the smile on your face and heard the laughter bubbling up your gullet, Dean leaned his chin forward and pressed his lips to yours. It was short at first, soft, but it was quick to turn into something entirely different; within seconds the small and innocent gesture that was meant to be more of a 'good morning' statement became more energetic, it became harder. Dean's lips were tensed as he pressed his mouth to yours, you felt him let go of your hand in order to run that hand up the side of your shirt, you felt the calluses of his hands rub against your side, up your hip and over your waist and then around to your back, finally resting on the small of your back with what you imagined to be a secret intent of grabbing ass but was patient and stayed on your back. You felt his thumb rub against your cheekbone before he rotated his hand and moved that same thumb to graze over your ear, then your neck, then before you knew it that arm, too, was wrapped around your back.

And all this time you were trying to focus, trying to keep from getting too swept up by the taste of him, the still-strong taste of mint after he brushed his teeth, the faint taste of coffee and whatever alcohol he put into it which he consumed before brushing his teeth still being evident in his mouth. The small stubble on his cheeks and chin that you asked him to keep was rubbing against your own lips, the tip of your nose, and it was the ticklish sensation brought on from that exact contact that brought a smile to your mouth, a laugh to your throat, and eventually the separation of the two of you due to disagreements of the lips.

Dean pulled back and you saw his smile, saw the pure entertainment in his eyes, and you felt yourself flush; every single time you ended up breaking the kiss because you couldn't stop smiling, which you supposed was a good problem to have but it was embarrassing, nonetheless.

"Y/N, you gotta stop smiling," Dean was chuckling when he said this, then leaned in one last time to give you a small peck on your still-grinning mouth before jumping away from you and into the kitchen area of the motel, perfect timing to avoid Sam's eyes when he walked back into the room.

"So we went into the barn later that night and I told my dad," Dean started saying while he pulled a knife from his pocket and began sharpening it with the sharpener he must have grabbed off the table in his hasty retreat. He turned to face Sam, a smile on his face, then pointed to you with the knife. "Sammy, remember the shifter hunt from Kansas City? I was just telling Y/N about that."

*****

"No, Sam, Y/N's sitting in the front this time."

"Dean, I'm the one who—"

"Almost got yourself killed," Dean called that over his shoulder as he clomped down the hill and toward the Impala parked in wait. "I think the least you can do is let the person at fault for saving your sorry ass sit up front."

You felt the smile tease at your cheeks and you shrugged when Sam turned back to look at you; you weren't about to get in the middle of this argument and besides, it was far too dark and you needed to concentrate on not rolling down this damn hill, not the argument between two brothers that clearly spent too much time together.

When you were in the front, when you heard Sam grumble for a split second, when the lights of the Impala went off and the roar of the engine blocked out any protests Sam managed to spew, you couldn't help but smile.

Because when the lights went out and when the car started up and when your eyes were locked on the road in front of you, you felt Dean's fingers intertwine with yours and you felt the rush, the threat of getting caught even if it was something as simple as holding hands. You could imagine the smug little smile on Dean's face, you could have curled into a ball on his lap as you felt his thumb rub up and down on your thumb knuckle, the top of your hand.

Simple. So simple. But somehow that small gesture that could have meant nothing at all slapped a smile on your face that wasn't about to go away, made you wish it were just you and Dean for a few minutes. A few hours. A few days. It made you wish you could go somewhere without hiding but it also made you realize that half the thrill was the hiding. It was the attempt to outsmart Sam, to get away with this little, innocent affair without the youngest Winchester finding out, it was small kisses in the morning when Sam wasn't looking, ass grabs during a hunt, it was Dean purposely 'teaching' you to play pool at the bar when he knew full well that you already knew. It was playing footsie under the café tables and trying not to let your giggles get you caught, it was hugs from behind when Sam wasn't looking and it was neck kisses during the few seconds the two of you had alone.

It was snuggling under the covers after Sam fell asleep and praying that he'd stay asleep longer than you or Dean, because you knew one of you was going to have to get back onto the ground before Sam woke up.

And then he took you to the bar that night and you could be a couple in public, you could kiss him and let him kiss you and you didn't have to worry about who could see; you could talk with him to someone and be content with your side pressed to his, with his arm wrapped around your back and his hand sitting gently on your hip. You could smile and stare into his eyes mid-conversation without having to worry about people seeing that it wasn't just a friendly stare-down, it wasn't just a gaze shared between friends, but that there was far more being exchanged during the eye contact. You could stare at his eyes and see the flecks of colors otherwise missed and you had the time to count them, had time to count the spots of blue and brown and gold that were hidden in his irises before he ended up leaning in and kissing you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer without hesitation.

Because he was yours, now, and you were his.

And even if neither of you were comfortable breaking the news to Sam, that made the moments that you could spend together even more special; it made every kiss and every hug and every conversation more valuable to you. It made Dean's staring at you, it made his longing make you smile. It made you want him, too.

Stolen kisses and hidden conversation and sneaking out in the middle of the night to find some privacy and handholding when Sam wasn't looking and sharing ice cream at 2am diner runs.

Secret for now, obviously not forever. But damn, was it fun.