Dear Addiction

Prologue

Name: Dean Winchester
Date:

"Umm excuse me." The man sat behind the desk looked up, his eyes shadowed by his police hat. Dean's own eyes lingered there for a second before traveling down his body. His suit fit tight across his chest, the same fit following down his slim waist, clearly defining his figure. He was good looking, incredibly, with a hard jawline covered in a stubble, and soft lips that puckered out just the slightest "What's the date?"

"August 12th"

Dean gave a flirtatious smile, leaning forward so his elbows rested against the tall desk, his eyes looking just slightly up at the man. "Thank you officer..." He brought the pen to his lips, slowly rolling the tip between his teeth.

"Smith," the officer replied. Closer up Dean could see smaller features, the way the tip of his nose just turned slightly, the few freckles that scattered his tanned skin, and the way he shifted in his seat, taking forced breaths as Dean was lent in front of him.

Dean hummened in acknowledgment, slowly bringing the pen from his lips and to the paper, keeping his eyes on the officer for as long he could. Only quickly looking away to scribble the date. "Well officer Smith," Dean brought the pen back to his lips. He paused for a second, once again letting his eyes travel across the man's body, making no attempt to hide it "maybe if you're free sometime we could-"

"Dean!"

He rolled his eyes at the all to familiar british accent that filled the small lobby. Dramatically Dean stood up, plastering a sarcastic smile across his face as he turned to see Crowley, his manager standing at the door. "Crowley," Dean greeted, "I thought you were getting the car."

"Funny thing about that," Crowley didn't smile as he spoke, instead his lips stayed in a tight line. He glared daggers at Dean, surely imagining every possible way to kill him in that room alone, and Dean didn't blame him. "Moving a car from the back of the parking lot to the front doesn't take long, especially when i'm NOT HIGH OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND!" Crowley screamed. "Now would you like some help taking your trousers off, or shall we be on our way."

"Fuck you," Dean spat under his breath. He turned back to the officer, though the man had quickly dropped his head, his lips in a tight line as he tried to hold back a smile. Without another look at the officer Dean scribbled his signature and initials across the paper, before pushing it and the pen across the desk.

If he hadn't just come down from a high maybe he would've been embarrassed. Instead Dean was just annoyed, as he followed Crowley out of the police station and into the dark parking lot, lit only by a single lamp, and the distant lights of LA.

"You know" Crowley began, he'd stopped walking, instead adjusting the suit he wore, and pulling his keys from his pants pocket. "Most people get less horny when they snort bloody coke."

"Aren't I lucky."

Crowley gave Dean one last exhausted look before, he turned, walking to his car. "Where the fucks baby?" Dean asked, as he followed his manager to his sleek red, 2019, Ferrari. A brand that in Dean's opinion should've stayed in 2018.

"Are you a bloody idiot?" Crowley asked, he had his hand on the door handle when he turned to look at Dean. The anger was still clear across his face, and Dean was sure it'd be there for a long time, causing wrinkles across his forehead, and a blood pressure that was much higher than healthy. "You're high, so i'm driving." 

"Am not!" Dean cried though Crowley didn't listen instead getting into the drivers seat.

Dean gave the car one last glare before he stomped forward, walking to the passenger door and getting in. As the engine hummened to life Dean rested his head against the window, the glass cold against his burning skin. He wasn't high, at least wasn't at his peak. It had been barely half an hour after he'd taken his third or fourth dose when they arrested him. Throwing him into an empty cell where he stayed for what felt like years, but couldn't have been more than two hours. As he went through the peak of his high, and then the downfall, the worst part, when everything in his body ached, and all he could think about was another dose.

Even now the cravings were still there, the racing of his heart, skin burning so hot he might as well have been lit on fire. And the distant thought that just maybe if he were to open the car door, as they raced through the LA streets, things would be over, and everything would be okay.

"The record company's furious," Crowley began.

"Fuck them."

"They're the reason you aren't rotting in a jail cell... and have a job!"

"And I'm the reason they make millions."

Dean kept his head rested against the glass. He watched the street lights speed by in a mix of greens, reds, and yellows, blurring in a mix of the car lights. They caused his head to spin, turning his empty stomach. "You've also lost them hundreds of thousands with your foulary!" Crowley paused his yelling, but Dean didn't respond, instead closing his eyes, he felt sick, though throwing up in Crowley's favourite car wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. "I've booked an interview for in a  few days. You're going to show up, not high, pretend you never got arrested for having bloody coke on you, and be a good american boy, understood?"

"I can't go," Dean replied.

"Why?" Crowley spat, "Do you have plans to get high with Lee? Or fuck some poor twink? How about I pay for a whore! Or maybe" Crowley exaggerated as much as he could on the word maybe, "you'd like me to turn around so you can get fucked by officer googly eyes?"

"I'm going to New York."

"Excuse me."

"Yah," Dean finally opened his eyes, sitting up properly so he could face the other as he spoke. "My brother's wife died last month so I'm going to move in for a while to help him out."

"And when did you decide this.."

"I called him before I left with Lee so-" Dean hesitated, his mind still foggy with the drug, "I want to say a few hours ago, but who even fuckin cares about time nowadays."

"Fuck Dean!" Crowley screamened, which was the last thing he said for the rest of the drive. Instead keeping his head forward, and grip firm on the steering wheel. It wasn't until they had pulled up to Dean's house, where paparazzi filled the yard, that Crowley finally turned his head. "This is the plan. You're going to fly to New York, where-"

"I'm driving."

"You're a bloody idiot-" Crowley sighed before continuing, "you're going to drive to New York, where you will stay with your brother, clean and sober. I'll get you an interview with Jimmy Fallon, where you will say that it's all rumors. Afterwards you will not speak to anyone, take photos with anyone or even leave your brothers apartment. You will not go to a single bar or club, and you will not sleep with anyone while you're there. Do you understand?"

Dean turned his body away from his manager, instead glaring at the window, the flashing of cameras still visible through the tint. "I'm not a fucking child."

"Then maybe you should stop acting like one. Now you better get going, if i've learned anything from touring with you i'm sure you have nothing packed."

"My car's still at the club, how am I supposed to get it?"

"Walk. Consider it your punishment."

Dean rolled his eyes, as he unbuckled his seatbelt, "Love you too, " he mumbled. He glanced  back at Crowley one last time before pushing open the car door and stepping into the screaming crowd of paparazzi.