Supernatural Imagines & One Shots

Top-Side Part 3 (Dean imagine)

Dean's words are like an echo, pounding in your head. "Hold on. Chuck, Chuck? As in....capital G?" You whisper that last part, pointing toward the ceiling. You can feel the lump forming in your throat and you swallow. "Am I missing something?" You ask a bit shakily.
"I just can't believe your back." Dean says with a smile. You can see the relief in his green eyes, and your voice seems to catch in your throat. All you can do is smile back.
  Sam opened his mouth to interject, and just then, the waitress comes over with your food. The scent of it reaches your nose, and your mouth waters.
"Here you go." She smiles.
As she hands out the meals, you notice that she gives Dean a look, and your first instinct is to grab your angel blade. The girl must have seen your face, because her smile fades, and looks nervous.
"Uh..will that..uh..be all?"
"Yes, darlin'," you say sarcastically, "you can go now."
  Dean chuckles. "What was that all about?" He snaps the cap off his beer, and takes a huge gulp.
   "Come on, Dean. The way she looked at you...nevermind." You shake your head, and smile despite yourself. There was always something about Dean's obviousness that added to his charm. One thing you're sure of though is that, If that broad tries anything else, she may end up with an angel blade in her ribs. She's either a slut, or a demon, and it doesn't matter to you which.
  You shift in your seat, and take a bite of your burger. You don't want the boys to know, especially Dean, but you're nervous. Something about this roadhouse doesn't sit right, and you hope you're wrong. After trusting your instincts all these years, they're what save your life. At this moment, those same instincts are telling you this place is no good.
Dean can probably sense something, because he touches your leg underneath the table.
"Hey, you okay?" His eyes search yours, and he looks worried. A second later, in proper "Dean" fashion, he plays off his fear, and concern, with a joke. "You're not jealous are ya, sweatheart?" He smirks, and jerks his head toward the waitress.
You kick him in the shin under the table, and he sucks in a breath. "Don't be a smartass, Dean. Besides, later on," you lean in close so you can say in a low voice, "I'll be the one screaming your name, not her."
When you lean back, you notice the look on both of their faces. Sam looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, but Dean's reaction is just what you wanted it to be.
"Isn't that right, sweetheart?" You taunt, giving him a smirk.
"I mean...it....." he chuckles nervously, and trails off, practically stuffing his mouth with his burger.
    Some time passed by in silence, as people started to bustle in the roadhouse. You're avoiding the questions that are bound to come up; the questions you're not ready to answer.
"Okay." You begin, downing your beer. "We need to lay it all out on the table. What the hell is up with our favorite writer?"
"That's exactly it." Sam says. "Hell."
Your brows furrow, and you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
"Chuck opened the gates of Hell, Y/N." Dean adds. "Everything we've ever fought, every soul." He shakes his head. "Just to screw us over."
   "Well isn't that just fan-damn-tastic?" You toss your hands in the air. This is it. This is the end. All this years in hell, and it's literally hell on earth.
"That begs an important question, but right now, I just want to get the hell out of dodge." You say, bouncing your leg.
"You got it." Sam states as he gets up. "I'll take care of the bill, and some boxes to take these with us."
"What are we going to do, Dean?" You ask in almost inaudibly. Dean is the only person you feel safe being vulnerable with, and right now, you really need him.
"Hey, look at me." His voice was low and slightly gruff. "Y/N, look at me."
  Your eyes lift to his, and all the strength you had before seems to be leaving you. "We'll kick this thing in the ass just like everything else." By the tone of his voice, it almost seems like he's also trying to convince himself of this. "Okay?"
You give him a light smile, and nod your head. The minute all this is taken care of, is the minute you'll be able to breathe.
"Okay," Sam says, walking over, "ready?"
You practically jump out of your booth. "Are you kidding?"
Dean looks at your ass as you walk toward the door, and lets out a low whistle.
You're completely oblivious to this of course, given the noise, but Sam catches him and nudges Dean with his elbow. "Dude, could you be more obvious?" He asks in a low voice.
Dean looks over at his brother then rolls his eyes. "Shut up."
When you step out into the fresh air, you close your eyes and breathe out of your nose. The evening breeze feels great on your flushed skin. An image then flashes across your mind. It's brief, but it's a memory, and it involves fire. You stagger for a moment, but Dean grabs hold of your arm. "Woah. You okay?"
"Y-yeah." You take swallow hard, and force a chuckle. "I just need to get the hell out of here."

~ time lapse~
 
   You let out a low, and long moan, collapsing on top of Dean. Your cleavage is filled with sweat, and your heart is racing. "That was one hell of a welcome back." You say breathlessly.
Dean's chest his heaving, and the heat coming off of him warms you inside out. "Son of a bitch." He chuckles before sighing. You lift your head up, and look at him. For a moment, you're afraid. You're afraid that this is a dream, and you're still burning.
Dean's eyes furrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you put your finger over his mouth. You know what he's going to say anyway, and you'd rather not deal right now.
"It's nothing." You whisper, before kissing him. His arms circle around you, and deepens the kiss. You open your mouth slightly to make room for Dean's tongue. More than anything you'd like to stay in this moment forever, with him. You turn your head, and his lips move to your neck. You close your eyes and bite your lip.
Just then, a loud knock raps at the door. "What?!?!" Dean yells in frustration.
"We should talk now." Sam says on the other side.
You sigh. As much as you hate to end this, you know Sam is right.
"He's right, Dean," you say in a low voice, tracing your finger along his jawline, "we've got a lot to talk about."
To be continued...