Blue Eyed Stranger [COMPLETE]

Blue Eyed Stranger in a Trench Coat

Dean Winchester sits on the 6am bus, staring at the newspaper in his hand tediously. Rolling his eyes at the numerous exaggerated headlines, he folds the paper back in two and tosses it on the green chair beside him.

He runs his hand down his face slowly, catching the sleep that sits around his eyes, before scratching the stubble on his chin. He checks his watch in the progress, reading 6:17am, knowing he's going to be late to work. Working at a law firm doesn't have its perks.

Groaning to himself, he decides not to be that asshole who yells at the bus driver. It probably wasn't his fault. Nonetheless, he stiffens his shoulders and clenches his jaw as he leans back, dreading what work he already has waiting for him on his desk.

When they hit a red traffic light, Dean releases an exasperated sigh as he looks at the other passengers, all five of them. Everybody dead to the world at this time.

His eyes settle on a man in a beige trench coat, who's hand is clasped round a yellow pole as he rests against a ledge. There are plenty of seats available yet he chooses to stand. He looks exhausted, a fatigued expression plastering his face and surrounding his eyes. His consciousness stops him from falling over completely as he repeatedly nods his head against the pole. Dean tries not to stare but he notices that today this blue eyed man seems somewhat different, despite the fact that he's not in his regular seat.

The man always has a tint of drowsiness in his element. Frequently heavy eyed, Dean muses on whether there's a reason for his consistent comatose state. Obviously people get tired sometimes, but not like this guy.

Dean wonders if he works too many hours. Or maybe if he's forcing himself to work unhealthy hours to provide for a family. Maybe he's ill? Or maybe Dean puts too much thought into thinking about the blue eyed stranger from his regular bus? Yeah... maybe that.

When you're in a set routine, you tend to bump into the same people in the same place everyday. This is what Dean and the stranger in the trench coat did. Dean didn't know his name, hell, he didn't ask for it. He just happened to notice the same man everyday on this number seven bus, wearing his beige trench coat, sheltering his blue eyes with tiredness and strands of dark hair. Every morning, every night.

Dean contemplates ever starting a conversation with him. None of that small talk ever appealed to Dean normally, but something about this stranger makes him wonder whether it would be worth it.

Would he ever know his name? Will he ever hear his voice outside of the low grumble that escapes his lips when he says 'good morning' and 'thank you' to the driver? What's his voice like?

The stranger manages to keep Dean's attention until it's his stop, during which Dean ponders whether he should slip a quick 'cya' to him. Just enough to encourage a response.

When Dean stands up, the stranger looks up at him, knowingly shuffling out of the way to avoid a collision. Even though they both get off at the same stop, the stranger always lets Dean walk off the bus first. Striding over, Dean pauses at the stranger and looks him up and down quickly before his eyes set on the stranger's.

When he noticed they were blue, he didn't notice they were this blue.

If Dean was into poetry, he could write a poem about how they're like the blue of the ocean, waves of different tones reflecting in the sunlight - or something like that. But...

Dean wasn't into poetry. And there was no sunlight yet, it's 6.41 in the winter and dark outside. He can't find the words in his vocabulary to structure a sentence about his oddly beautiful eyes.

However, up closer Dean notices the soreness that glazes over his expression. The corners of his eyes are bloodshot, the crinkles swollen up and a soft pink. He looks incredibly sad and for a quick second, Dean's mood dampens over a stranger for the first time in his life.

His customary wit disappears, and the comment he makes comes out more humorless than he had intended. "Try to ease up on the hours, huh?" He says in a soft voice.

To correct his unusually worried tone, he cocks his head and tries to make a sarcastic smile.

The stranger looks back at him and doesn't say anything, instead he stares at him rather blankly, not amused by his comment. Dean's smile is swiftly removed and the embarrassment of even trying to converse with a stranger takes over. 

In an attempt to keep up a confident charade, he takes his eyes off of the stranger and leaves the bus in the quickest way possible. He doesn't wait to hear the man get off of the bus after him to only walk in the opposite direction, like he does every other morning, instead he parades onwards.

He lifts his chin and broadens his shoulders as he walks off, acting like that small awkward encounter didn't just happen. He doesn't dare to glance back at the blue eyed stranger, just blandly stares ahead as he goes off on his usual route to work.