esoteric ↯ dean winchester x reader

ii.

You woke up in the bed, sheets tucked snug over your naked body but this time not as cold as you were used to. It was not your apartment either. It was the dirty ass motel room of the guy from the bar.

"Shit." You muttered. He was already in the shower, you could hear the water streaming.

You quickly found your top, jeans, and broken scrunchy. You stumbled around the room, stopping every now and then at the dizziness you felt. You stuck your phone in your pocket and jet out the door.

"Damn it." You hissed at yourself, realizing after the door had automatically locked, you forgot your bra. You turned around for a second to knock but stopped, you knew how these mornings went and honestly just didn't have time for it or didn't want him to think you were crazy or clingy or wanting something more. You decided to leave it. You had work tomorrow anyway, maybe he'd come by. So instead you walked the walk of shame.

As you walked you began to remember last night, it was funny. You never thought you could get a guy like him, but only proved your theory further: you could be a 4 day old McChicken and a guy could still take you home.

You remembered only getting about an hour of sleep, the crisp air of morning intriguing your awareness. In reflection, that was probably the best one night stand of your life. You and he stayed up for hours talking before it even escalated to getting physical. And when it was physical.. it was like Heaven fell onto you.

You got all the way back to your apartment in a short while. You had just plopped onto the couch and gotten comfortable with your blankets again when a knock on your door came. When you didn't come at first, a second knock came.

"Coming!" You yelled, your voice hoarse from lack of sleep, dragging your feet and pulling the blanket closer. You opened the door to see Dean in a suit standing on the other side. "Hi, please don't tell me you're here to propose."

"What? No, no, no." Dean cleared his throat, just as surprised to see you, "I'm from the, uh, the FBI."

"Oh, yeah." You leaned against the door frame, holding your head, "Sorry I, uh, didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Me either." Dean shifted, biting his lip.

"What can I do for you, FBI?" You asked, avoiding the conversation and saying his name, in all honesty you had forgotten it.

"Oh, yeah, um." He patted his pockets to pull out a photo, "Did you know this woman?"

"Yeah." You frowned, seeing your neighbor show up. "That's Nancy Taylor. She lived in 42C, real nice. She was here after her marriage ended. It's a real shame what happened to her."

"Did you notice anything strange about her death, maybe?" Dean asked.

"I noticed a lot of things." You scoffed.

"You were close to her then?" He asked.

"Oh no, I know her through work." You crossed her arms.

"Work? She worked at the bar?" Dean asked, knowing for sure she didn't.

"No, you don't think I'm just a bartender do you?" You cocked your head, "I'm a hunter."

"You're a what." Dean's jaw dropped.

"Come in." You opened your door to him. Dean walked in slowly, "I don't make a lot of money doing what I do, so I work at bars to make up for it. I work to collect bounty to travel for a new job then I get the job at a bar to stay for a while. It's really a horrible, vicious cycle."