Work Text:
Why was your head housing a tiny elf with a jackhammer in the frontal lobe? Why did you have ice-picks behind your eyes? Why were your ears ringing? Why were you waking up with a hangover? You couldn’t remember anything. How many shots did you end up having? Hell, how did you end up in a bed? You assumed the boys brought you back.
Someone groaned next to you and it only sent a wave of pain through your brain once more. You squeezed your eyes as tight as you could get them, trying to block out noise and block out light. You grabbed a pillow and slammed it over your head, begging your body to go back to sleep. This was not wanted. You should have limited yourself, but that just didn’t work out this time.
Your eyes shot open. Someone. Groaned. Next to you. You slowly lifted the pillow from your head and rolled over. You had seen him shirtless multiple times, but never next to you…in a motel room bed. The anti-possession tattoo stood out on his chest and his hair was tussled. From the noticeable V, you knew he was…without apparel further down south.
You panicked, scrambling backwards only for your hand to miss the bed, and you landed on the floor with a thud, hurriedly trying to find something to cover yourself with. The only thing you found was Dean’s flannel shirt, so you wrapped that around your nakedness.
“What the hell, Dean?!” you shouted, which you immediately regretted. The headache combined with sudden nausea, and you swallowed, trying to keep the contents of your stomach in place. “What the hell?!”
Dean sat up and looked at you with confusion. “Well, this changes things…”
“How did this…”
He ran his hand over his face. “I have no idea.”
“When…”
“Same answer, sweetheart.” Dean tried hiding a smirk as he continued to stare.
“Stop it Don't look at me like that!” Sighing, you looked around for your phone. It was across the room on the floor, the notification light blinking. It had a text waiting. “Hide your eyes.”
“What?”
“Just do it, Dean,” you snapped. “Please,” you added, a little more kind.
Making sure he wasn’t looking, although he probably snuck a few glances, you stood and walked the short distance, picking up the phone. Shoving your hair out of your face, you read the message. “Crap,” you mumbled.
“What?” Dean began to look over.
“Eyes over there, Mister!” you read the text again. “It’s from Sam. Apparently the bartender threw us out for uh…public displays of affection, to put it lightly.” You sighed again. “Great.” Setting the phone on the table, you picked up your clothes and headed for the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Was I that bad?” Dean asked, a smile in his voice.
“You shut up. And, for the love of mercy, please get dressed.”
“Yeah. Probably not a bad idea.”
You closed the door and locked it. Then he knocked on it. “Yes, Dean?” you asked, a slight tone of annoyance escaping.
“Can I, uh. Can I have my shirt back?”
Cracking the door open you slid his shirt out. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
You turned on the shower and stepped into the ice-cold water pouring down. Shocked skin formed rows of goosebumps, and your mind immediately cleared of the alcohol haze, although you knew the sensation would return later. As you cleansed your body, you tried to remember anything from the night before. Dean challenged you to shots after a successful hunt, and you had agreed. Sam watched silently drinking his beer. After several rounds, you remembered Dean going for more. He was leaning against the bar when you thought how amazing his ass looked in those jeans, so you got up and…Oh no.
You held your face in your hands and took a deep breath. “Damn it!” you mumbled to yourself. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
You had been the one to suggest it. By grabbing his butt and whispering something in his ear. For once, it hadn’t been Dean to imply it. You were used to him teasing and poking fun. That’s just what Dean did, but nothing had ever come of it. You were friends. Nothing more. However, as the saying goes, “Drunk words, sober thoughts”. The first time you had met Dean, you immediately thought how attractive he was. A perfectly symmetrical face, a jaw chiseled by Michelangelo himself, and intoxicating green eyes that were difficult to look away from. That gravelly voice was a bonus, but you had never let yourself think about him in that way. If you had, you stopped the thought immediately.
Soon, you heard Sam’s voice coming from the room, and Dean had told him to shut up about something. You let the freezing water continue to rush down for a few more minutes before working up the confidence to finally face the brothers. After toweling off, you got dressed, and opened the bathroom door. Sam stood there, checking something on his phone, and he glanced up.
“Well good morning to you,” Sam said, smiling, holding in a laugh.
“You shut up,” you said, and Sam continued to smile. “No comment. Whoever wants to shower next. Water’s warm.”
“Cold shower?” Dean asked.
“Definitely.”
“Yeah, I need one of those.” Dean disappeared into the bathroom, and soon you heard the shower running and the sound of him humming something by AC/DC.
You sat on the edge of the bed running your hands over your face when you remembered what had occurred in the night, and you stood up to get as far away from the bed as possible.
Sam cleared his throat and stared at you with arms crossed over his chest. He was smiling. “Rough night?” he asked, innuendo dripping from the two words.
You just glared up at him. “Not now, Sam.”
He chuckled to himself. “You two are never allowed to go shot for shot again. Ever.” He shrugged. “But, I have to say, I’m glad Dean wasn’t the one doing the suggesting for once.”
“Where did you end up, anyway?” you asked.
“Impala. Slept in it so many times, anyway. And from the noises happening in here, I did not want to see that.”
Seeing the small coffee pot in the corner, you decided to get that brewing. Coffee and aspirin were the go-to hangover helper for you, and you needed all the help you could get. Sam sat at the small table and opened his laptop, checking news articles and anything that might lead the three of you to the next case.
“Hmm.” Sam furrowed his eyebrows and clicked on a link, scrolling through the report.
“What’s up?”
“Looks like a nest of vamps maybe? Might be worth checking out.”
“Where’s it at?” You sipped the dark liquid from the low-quality foam cup and made a face that indicated the sub-par taste. Yep. This was definitely cheap hotel coffee.
“Uh, not far. Kentucky. It wouldn’t take us more than a day to get there.” He looked up from his laptop. “What do you think?”
“Let me see.” You read over the report and nodded. “Sure. I think it’s worth taking a look. Dean’s final call though, as we both know.”
“Final call on what?” Dean asked as he walked out of the bathroom, thankfully fully clothed.
“Possible case,” Sam said. “Check this out.”
As Dean looked it over, you stared at him, although you tried not to. He was the most distracting thing in the room, and you couldn’t get your mind off what had happened. Fragments kept coming back to the forefronts of your memory. At the beginning, it was all giggly and teenager-esque, but something changed. Someone had made a confession. Someone had said…
“Oh my gosh…” you mumbled to yourself.
Both Dean and Sam looked up at you, confusion on both their faces. As your eyes got wider and wider, a panicked expression washed over Dean, and you stared at him, panic rising in your chest.
“What?” Sam questioned. He had no idea, but why would he?
You tilted your head as you stared at Dean. The confession was his.
“Outside,” he said as he grabbed your wrist, pulling you with him.
“What’s going on?” Sam asked again.
“Nothing!” Dean called behind him as he shut the hotel door when you were both outside.
“Oh my gosh!” you said a little louder.
“Quiet, I don’t want Sam to hear you!” He let go of your wrist. “I didn’t think you’d remember that. Hell, I almost didn’t.”
“You just thought you’d leave that little detail out, did ya?”
“Hey, we were drunk, alright? Too drunk. The details don’t matter.”
“Unless someone remembers them?”
“Then there’s that.” He stared at his bare feet, nervous now. “Just forget it, alright?”
You were astonished. “Forget it? How, exactly? I can’t just forget a thing like that, Dean.”
“I could always get Cas to scrub our memories.”
“I don’t think so.”
You shook your head and stared at him, taking a deep breath. Dean Winchester. You used to think he was arrogant. Overly confidant with only one thing on his mind, but over the past year that had changed. He was still confidant, but he had grown up that way. He still had only one thing on his mind, but not what you initially thought. Dean’s mission was to save people and keep his family alive. To beat the evil things in this world. Dean’s mission was survival and to take care of the people he cared about without a thought of himself. When you realized that, Dean took on a whole new light. He was a good man, although he rarely saw himself as one, and it didn’t take long to see the sad look in his eyes masked by determination. You knew Dean hid the sadness. He was incredibly brave and sometimes overconfident to compensate for some of the hopelessness he felt. He had told you once that he felt like a hamster running on a wheel, that he never got anywhere, and it was the same crap over and over again. You knew where he was coming from, but you always reminded him how needed he was. Sam, yourself, and the rest of the world. Not to mention, it would let a lot of monsters down if he didn’t kill them. He had laughed at that. Anything to keep Dean moving and to keep his head up.
“Hello?” Dean waved a hand in front of you. “You in there?”
“Yeah,” you said, staring him in the eye. “What can I say. Just…I told myself this earlier.”
“What’s that?”
You smiled. “Drunk words, sober thoughts, Dean.”
He blinked several times. “Why did you tell yourself that?”
“You’re smart. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
You stepped around him and back inside the room, leaving the door open. Dean stayed outside for several more minutes, and you watched him take a flask out of his pocket. He started to take a sip when he lowered it, screwed the cap back on, and turned to stand in the doorway. He just stared at you, realization in his beautiful green eyes and a question accompanying. You just nodded, a small smile on your lips.
“Uh, if we want to hit this case, we should probably get going,” Sam said, oblivious to the silent conversation occurring behind him.
“Right,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “Uh, why don’t you two get everything packed up and I’ll go hit the gas station. Be back in a few minutes.”
Sam stared at his brother for a moment, confused but stood and began gathering things and putting them in the backpacks.
“What was that about?” Sam asked.
“What was what about?” Even though you already knew.
“The sudden private conversation.”
“Oh. Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to believe me, Sammy.”
“Okay.” Sam went back to packing away, but you knew he was trying to figure it out. Although, knowing Sam, he already knew and just wanted verbal confirmation.
When Dean pulled back into the parking spot, you and Sam loaded up the trunk, and you threw Dean his shoes. He had left without them.
“Thanks…” he mumbled.
“You’re welcome.”
You did a once over of the room to make sure nothing was left behind, like a machete or a gun or even a bullet, and closed the door behind you. Dean went to check out of the room, and Sam sat in the passenger seat of the car. You climbed into the back, hugging your bulky flannel around yourself. It wasn’t cold outside, but a chill had crept in anyway.
When Dean got in the car, he looked in the rear-view mirror at you. This only complicated things if you and Dean let it. But it seemed you were letting it.