Dean sits in the crowded waiting room, patients coughing and sneezing around him.
He's only here to get his hand checked out. He had been wrestling Sam when he heard the pop.
Is he in pain? Hell yeah. It hurts like a mother fucker, but Dean is used to pain. And he also got ahold of some Vicodin so.
He's used to it so it's really only a dull ache.
Finally the receptionist calls his name. "Dean Winchester?" She calls. "The doctor will see you now."
Fucking finally.
He gets up, holding his hand to his stomach, as a nurse smiles and leads him down the hall, her brown hair bouncing with each step.
Dean's not in that much pain though. Especially because of the Vicodin he took. He had some left over from the car crash a year ago. And he's starting to feel a high setting in.
"What brings you here?" She smiles softly. She's beautiful, and usually Dean would be making a move, but he's just not feeling it.
"Messed up my hand," he sighs, the buzz from the pain meds numbing him. "Wrestling my brother."
Her laugh is gentle and playful. "Boys will be boys, huh?"
"Yeah," he grins as they reach a door at the end of the hall. She opens it, leading him in. "I guess."
"Well, take care of yourself. The doctor will be in shortly." With a small smile she walks out the door, leaving Dean alone in the small space.
Great. More waiting.
He sits down on the table covered in that paper stuff and sighs. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes, his high taking over.
A few minutes later the door opens and Dean snaps back to reality.
But this can't be reality. This must be a dream. Because the doctor that walks in? He's no doctor Dean has ever seen.
He's got sex crazed raven black hair, and Dean just wants to run his fingers through it. It's giving him all sorts of ideas.
And then his eyes. They're these piercing electric baby blues that burrow into his soul, but he doesn't mind. It's oddly comforting.
And that shadow of stubble, Dean just wants to feel it rubbing against his neck, or thighs.
And then his figure, hidden by the lab coat but still visible, fucking beautiful.
And then there's the cowboy boots. What kind of Doctor wears cowboy boots? That would explain what Dean says next.
"Well, howdy, Cowboy." The doctor raises his eyebrows in confusion. Dean laughs and eyes his shoes.
"Oh," the doctor groans. "I lost a bet with my brother... Long story." A small smile fills his chapped lips as Dean wants so very much to kiss them.
The sex god of a man sits down at his desk, typing away at a computer. Dean looks around the room, eying a small plaque on the desk.
"Dr. Novak, M.D." He says, trying out the words. "What's M.D. even stand for, huh? Massive Dick?" Dean smirks, a chuckle leaving his lips.
The doctor shakes his head. "It stands for Medical Degree." He seems unaffected by Dean's lewd comment.
Then he goes rigid, fingers freezing on the keyboard as he wheels around.
"Was... Was that a flirtation?" He sounds slightly confused but he's also blushing. Mission accomplished.
"Only if you want it to be," Dean leans forward, eying Dr. Novak.
YOU ARE READING
Doctor Novak, M.D.
FanfictionFinally the receptionist calls his name. "Dean Winchester?" She calls. "The doctor will see you now." Fucking finally.