Buying Dean the Hunter

Your hunter

You wake up and shuffle your feet downstairs to make coffee. Yawning as you descend the stairs you smell a brew already going. You see Dean already in the kitchen cooking some eggs in a skillet. Running your fingers through your hair just before you enter the kitchen, “morning.” He turns slightly, “morning. I hope you don’t mind.” “Not at all,” you take a seat at the island and watch him move about the kitchen.

You point and give him directions on where to find things. He slides some eggs on a plate and places it in front of you, “thanks chef Winchester.” He gives that comment a small smile then he puts the rest on his plate. Taking out forks you both dive in. “So Dean I need you to trap a Rugaru.” He looks up at you, “when do you need it?” “Three days, can you swing that?” “I’ll get my gear.”

He gets up and goes into his room. You clean up and hear clanking and what sounds like the chambers of guns being tested. Putting the dishes to dry he comes out of his room. He sports a dark jacket, his boots, jeans, dark shirt and sunglasses hanging at the top of it. You tried not to stare as he swaggered through the room, your hunter looking for his next meal ticket.

Two days go by and you tend to the grounds. You have a small garden and you pull some fresh produce from it. Passing the time and doing a little dusting you walk by his room. Stopping outside the door you peak in. Looking around you remember that you’re alone but your gut screams to stay away. “This is Dean’s room and I shouldn’t.” Somehow ending up standing in front of his dresser you look at the mirror. Leaning into it are two photos.

The top one has a woman holding a little boy. They are all smiles as they look into the camera. This brings a smile to your face and you wonder if that was his mother. She was pretty and you saw a little of Dean in her face. The other photo just below it shows two guys. One is definitely Dean but younger and his eyes look so full of life. All the years of being a hunter were taking a toll on him. The other guy looked a little taller and longer hair.

“You know it’s not polite to snoop.” You spun around to see Dean hanging onto the frame. “Dean?!? I umm. Are you bleeding?” He lets out a smirk, “bastard had a little fight in him.” You dropped the photo on the dresser and went to him. Placing a hand on his chest you supported him and moved under his arm. “Bathroom.” His heavy boots hit the wooden floor and he leaned on you but you were strong and helped him to the edge of the tub. “Sit,” you leaned over and made sure he was sturdy.

He struggles as he takes off his jacket. You get out the first aid kit and some extra old towels and tape. His jacket falls into the tub and you turn to see his blood stained shirt. His fingers are at the hem and he groans as he pulls up. Setting the kit down you help him gently remove his shirt. You put it in the sink, “looks like I owe you a shirt.” You get a little chuckle from him.

You picked up the peroxide, “this may sting.” He nodded and clenched his teeth. Pouring the liquid on his cut it bubbles and his fingers dig into his jeans. You cleaned that off and poured another round of the liquid into the wound. His hand griped your shoulder and he squeezed. “Ouch Dean,” you cleaned up his cut and placed a bandage on his side. Tearing off some tape you secure the bandage to his skin. “That should hold it.”

Your smile fades as you look at his skin. Seeing all the scars on his torso you looked up at him. He fidgeted and didn’t look back at you. You stood up, “I’ll get you a shirt.” “I don’t have another one.” “You can have one of my husbands. Might be a little loose but it’ll do for now.” After getting a shirt and taking a couple of seconds remembering when the last time you saw it worn you return to Dean. Entering his room once more you cross it to get back into the bathroom. You pause when you see his back is turned. All those long lash scars across his back. You take a quick breath in and he turns.