Words: 2699303Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLPiHrF7bsK
Dean x Reader303Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS9vBcikZUy
Summary: You meet Dean when you are both in the hospital and feel a connection to the handsome stranger, knowing nothing about what he does for a living…
Warning: some language303Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4G9oM6xWoV
You dragged the metal stand on wheels along beside you as you hobbled down the hallway. You looked at the bag of IV fluid hanging there with the line connected to your arm and scrunched your nose at it. Livin’ the dream, you thought to yourself.
You heard a crash down the hall and saw a guy about your age, stitches on his forehead, getting up out of a wheelchair and looking around to check if anyone was watching him. There were hospital supplies all over the floor nearby.
You made your way curiously over.
He was bent down shoving the supplies back onto the cart they had fallen off and didn’t see you.
“Hey,” you said.
He jumped and turned around. “Oh. Hey. I thought you were that crazy dictator nurse,” he said, looking you up and down, and giving you a sheepish smile.
You gave him a weak smile. “You have Nurse Michaels too?”
He nodded. “She kinda scares me.”
You gave him a conspiratorial look. “Me too,” you whispered. He smiled at you. “So, uhh what happened over here?” you asked, gesturing to the cart and spilled supplies behind him.
“Heh,” he gave you a boyish grin. “Wheelchair wheelie went wrong.”
You laughed and nodded. “Ahh, we’ve all been there,” you replied smiling at him. “I’m Y/N,” you said extending a hand.
“Dean.” He grasped your hand, which felt small in his, and gave you another smile. “So, what are you in for?” He asked, slipping his hands into the pockets of his standard-issue hospital pants.
“Gang fight.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, knitting his eyebrows together, and opened his mouth to say something only to close it again.
You laughed loudly. “I’m kidding. A drunk driver hit my car.”
“I was gonna say—you don’t look the type. Drunk driver huh? What a douche…You’re gonna be ok though?” He said, starting to walk with you back up the hallway.
You gave him a small smile and nodded. “What about you? That looks like a nasty cut you have there.”
He pursed his lips and considered you for a moment, nodding absentmindedly. “Hunting accident.”
You raised your eyebrows and gave him a skeptical look. “Were you hunting solid rock with your skull? Because if so, it looks like you found it.”
Dean let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. “Something like that,” he said.
You spent the next few hours walking up and down the halls to the various seating areas, talking and laughing more than you had in a long while. Neither of you even noticed the time passing or the shadows outside growing longer in the setting sun. You hadn’t noticed how alone you felt being trapped in the hospital until you whiled away the time with some quality company.
You sat in a chair across from Dean in an out-of-the-way corner, enjoying the escape from the beeping machines and rushing nurses. You’d made your way through the old magazines, laughing at the obscure issues they had out on the table.
”Hey, when you’re done with ‘The Best of French Doorknob Collections’ you should definitely give ‘Juicing for Beginners’ a read. There’s a lady on page 12 who looks entirely too pleased to be drinking some sort of brownish-green concoction,” Dean said with a disgusted look on his face. “Ugh,” he said with an exaggerated shudder, tossing the magazine down and looking at you.
You laughed and discarded the old wrinkled magazine in your hand and met his eyes. “Want to play a game?”
He cocked his head at you. “That depends. What’s the game? It can’t be ‘strip’ anything because…” he paused and looked left and right before leaning in towards you and whispering, “I don’t seem to be wearing anything under these hospital pants.”
You let out a loud laugh and covered your face with your hand. “Dean,” you said, shaking your head. He only grinned back at you, pleased with the response he had elicited.
”I’m just saying, I don’t know what kind of business they’re running here. I’m sure I came in with underwear on. For all, we know they could be stealing underwear from everyone who comes in here and reselling it for pocket change! Do you still have your underwear on by chance?” He flashed you a toothy grin, mischief written all over his freckled face.
You gave him a disapproving look. But Dean still caught the slightly upturned corners of your mouth and laughed his gruff laugh.
”Alright, alright. What’s the game?”
”Put your hands out with your palms down,” you said. He followed your instructions. You hovered your hands, palms up, just under his so you weren’t touching, but any movement up or down on either of your parts would press your palms together. You tried not to blush at the idea. “Ok, now I have to try and slap the tops of your hands and you have to try and pull your hands away so I can’t.”
Dean’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I know this game. I used to play it with my kid brother all the time.”
”Yeah?” you said, hoping to distract him as you pulled your hands out from under him and tried to touch the top of his. He pulled his hands away too fast with a smirk.
”Yep. Undefeated, still reigning champion.”
”Really? I was the undefeated champion in my family,” you said with another failed attempt to hit Dean’s hands.
”Hmm. That doesn’t seem right. Because—“ he pulled his hands back and you missed again, “I’m kicking your ass.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You whipped your hands up quickly and missed but made a move again as soon as Dean had replaced his, catching him on the fingers.
”You were saying?” you said with a smile.
You continued the game, taking turns trying to catch the other’s hands, both laughing when you missed and when you were victorious. By the end of it, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. The whole time you played you talked to pass the time. Dean told you about his brother, Sam, and you talked about all the places you wanted to travel to. He told you about his car and you told him about that one time in high school when you’d crashed into your neighbor’s mailbox in your mom’s van.
It was getting late and you knew you needed to get back to your room so the nurses could check your stitches and give you your medication. “Thanks for the entertainment,” you said to Dean as you started to stand. You were somewhat labored getting up as the stitches in your abdomen tugged uncomfortably.
”Whoa. Need help?” Dean immediately grasped your arm softly, helping you gently rise out of the chair and straighten up.
”Thanks,” you said with a bitter laugh. “I’m like a little old lady,” you added shaking your head. “But really it’s just cuz I’ve got stitches holding my guts in,” you joked.
Dean’s face darkened.
”I’m kidding!” you said quickly. “I mean I do have stitches but they’re not doing that. It’s not that serious.”
Dean nodded, pursing his lips in the same way he had when he considered you before. “Cops know who hit you?”
You nodded, tensing your jaw. “Yeah. He’s headed for jail,” you said, getting ready to wheel your IV stand along with you.
”Good. He’s probably safer in there.”
You gave Dean a questioning look.
”Otherwise, I might be tempted to track him down myself and pay him a visit.”
You were both taken aback and flattered, not entirely sure how you were meant to respond. You settled on the safe side. “Well, the lawyers think they’ve got it under control. But thanks,” You smiled at him. “Thanks again for the entertainment. I’m really glad I watched you biff it in that wheelchair…”
”Dammit… I was really hoping you didn’t see that,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling sheepishly at the ground. “Thanks to you too. I’ll see you around.”
As you rolled and hobbled your way back to your room, a smile was plastered on your face as you thought about the afternoon. You found that you couldn’t shake Dean out of your mind. There was something different about him… and it went beyond the fact that his eyes were intensely green and easy to get lost in. You saw vulnerability in them and his veiled attempts to hide it. And the way his face changed from sincerity, as he listened intently, to glowing with that smile of his… the one that crinkled his eyes and made you think you would do anything, make a complete fool of yourself if you could watch that happen over and over again.
You found that you were suddenly in the doorway of your room and physically shook your head in an attempt to clear the dreamy cloud that seemed to have settled in it.
You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror over the little sink in your room as you passed by and slowed down to consider your appearance. You frowned at the bruising on your cheekbone from where you had slumped into the steering wheel unconscious after the airbag had deflated. There was bruising visible on one of your shoulders from the seat belt and burns on your wrists from the chemicals in the airbag. Overall, you had been lucky. But this certainly isn’t how you wanted to look when you met some handsome stranger…
_ _ _ _ _ _
“Excuse me, yeah, hi,” Dean smiled at the nurse behind the desk of the nursing station. “I’m trying to find out what room Y/N is in? She came in after her car was hit by a drunk driver.”
”Do you have a last name for her?”
”Uhh, yeah. I do. It’s just that I—can’t remember,” Dean said pointing to his head. “You see, I’m in for a separate, unrelated head injury and my memory has been—“
”Honey, I’ve seen your chart,” the nurse sassed back. “There’s no memory loss with your injury. I’m sorry, I can’t give you her room number without a first and last name.”
Dean rapped his knuckles hard on the counter and pushed off it, turning away from the nurse. Dammit, he thought to himself. Should have asked her for her room number…and her last name. He glanced down the long hallway at all the doors, scruffing a hand through his hair. He was fairly certain she was on this floor. There really weren’t that many doors…
Dean spent the next hour or so peeking in every single room and asking after you. On more than one occasion he had inserted himself into some uncomfortable situations or gotten angrily told off. He was starting to get seriously discouraged, his slippers dragging on the cold floor, as he made his way around the corner, past where he had spilled the hospital supplies and first met you just the day before. He tried a couple more rooms (empty) before poking his head into one midway down the hall. A nurse was straightening the bed linens.
”Excuse me is this Y/N’s room?”
”It was, but she’s gone,” the man replied, replacing the pillow on the bed.
Dean felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He was frozen as the nurse breezed past him.
“Wait! Hey!” He said jogging to catch up. “I don’t understand. I just saw her yesterday. She said she was going to be fine!”
The man gave him a weird look. “She is. She’s gone home. Checked out.”
”Come on, man! This is a hospital!” He yelled angrily at the nurse, who recoiled slightly. “Word choice! Are you kidding me?” The nurse cast Dean one more perplexed look before hurrying off. Dean turned back to the room and stood in the doorway, leaning his head against the frame. Well, I guess that’s that… he thought to himself. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, reasoning that he barely knew you anyway…
”Looking for someone?”
Dean turned to the voice behind him. You were standing there, dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt, a worn jacket slung over your shoulder. It was a big change from the sterile, hospital-provided pajamas you had been wearing the previous day. You looked at him with a small half-smile, wondering how he had found the room you had been in, but happy he did.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his heart skipping a beat and the sinking in his chest vanishing instantly.
”I forgot something important so I had to come back up,” you said sneaking past him into the room. You felt Dean’s eyes follow you in. You found it still there, sitting on the laminate side table, and picked up the small picture frame. You looked at it fondly for a moment and then slid it into your purse. “What are you doing here?”
”I was just—I,” he was flustered, fumbling around for words. “Wanted to see how you were.” He let out a laugh at himself and awkwardly tugged on the bottom of his shirt. “I feel a little out of place in this now that you’re wearing normal clothes.” He looked down at the disposable slippers on his feet.
You nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t notice until I changed out of it but I think I felt worse than I actually was in that. It’s nice to be in something a little less…hospital-less?”
Dean nodded. He slid his hands into his pockets. You noted this with a smile, remembering him making the same movement the previous day. He had a way of shrugging them in that was all together—you searched for the right word—charming. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving today,” he said.
”I didn’t know. They looked me over last night and told me I could leave today… I was surprised myself.”
Dean debated telling you about the nurse with the poor word choice but thought better of it. “I see,” he responded simply. He chewed the inside of his lip and wrinkled his nose slightly while he looked at you. He swallowed hard as his eyes found yours. They were so clear and bright and there was something in them that started an odd warming sensation in his midsection. There was a spark there that he felt he had never seen in anyone he’d come across before. “Well, that’s great. You look good,” he finished lamely. “I’m glad you forgot something otherwise I wouldn’t have had a chance to say…goodbye.”
You eyed him, his hand extended out towards you. The last word he spoke drifted down weightily to the cold tile between you and sat there like something you were trying to ignore. You nodded at him, biting the inside of your cheek in a way that mirrored how Dean was chewing his bottom lip. You reached out and grasped his hand firmly, trying to give him a warm smile. You moved past him to leave but your feet wouldn’t budge past the doorway, instead of sticking like you were walking on flypaper. You could somehow sense his eyes on you and you looked back at him. “So, you’re sure you’re not going to ask for my number then?”
He was caught off-guard and his eyebrows rose like the light laugh he let out. “Uhh,” he awkwardly rubbed his neck with one hand and made a vague shrug with the other.
You withdrew a card with your info on it from your purse and held it to him. He made a move to grab it and you pulled it quickly away with a wide smile. “Too fast for you.”
He laughed heartily and gave you an amused look. “Try it again.” You extended the card and before you could blink he’d snatched it out of your fingers. Holding it up with a grin.
”I’ll still call it a win for me. See you around, I hope.” You gave him another smile and turned away to head home.
ns 15.158.61.43da2
