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Happy birthday Dean Winchester! Here's a quick one-shot I whipped up to celebrate.
This also fulfils the 'Plus Size' square of my @spnaubingo 2023 bingo card, even though it's 2024... I'm late, I know, but I still want to do some more of it!
Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus sized!reader
Words: 1.6k
Warnings: Couple of crap comments from a random, some not-great self-esteem and a drunk character, but nothing particularly bad.
Synopsis: A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?
Supernatural writing masterlist
“Which one’s the father?” The sleazy guy joked. My stomach dropped.
“Excuse me?!”
“Oh, it’s alright love, I know the real father’s probably suffering somewhere alone while you’re off gallivanting with your workmates. I’m surprised he lets you out, really.”
The urge to punch the witness we were interviewing was overwhelming. Rather than ruin the case, I turned on my heel and marched out.
Fuck that guy. I’m not pregnant and I’m not screwing either of the Winchesters.
I heard Dean’s FBI agent tone of voice as he started speaking behind me. Great to see they were all just moving on with their lives, I thought sarcastically.
---
📱 Where are you? We’re going to the next witness’s house
A text came in from Dean. I read it but didn’t reply.
📱 You ok?
I sighed. Finally, he asks.
📱 Fine. I’ll catch up with you later
I replied. He sent me a thumbs up, I rolled my eyes.
I kicked at the ground and started the walk back into town. Sam and Dean would probably try and make me feel better, but I knew that wasn’t happening. I looked down at my soft, flabby belly that I’d tried multiple times to lose.
I walked.
---
I felt a bit absurd, getting tipsy this early. It wasn’t that I felt like I had to drink to get over the comment. It was just that I’d gotten back to the motel room and was feeling a bit morose, and there was nothing to do. I’d tapped out of the case and I was bored. I went for another wander and this stupid town had nothing in it but a pub, and so somehow I’d ended up here, starting drinking a lot earlier than normal.
And now I looked like I was drinking my feelings, when I wasn’t.
Not that there was anyone looking at me anyway.
Well, except in disgust. Who knew how many more people in here thought I was pregnant too. Probably thought I was harming an unborn baby, right now.
Fuck them.
---
“You know there’s still a monster on the loose?” Dean said gruffly, a frown on his face. I guess it’d been easy to find me given how few things there were in this town.
“You struggling without me?” I didn’t think I was slurring too much, but his expression did not improve when I started talking.
“How you going to fight one off like this?” he gestured to me.
“You think a few drinks are why I’m fat?” I said sarcastically.
“I’m not calling you fat, I’m calling you drunk.”
“Right,” I said with an eyeroll.
“Come on, get in the car,” he said, trying to tug my arm.
“Fuck off Dean! I can drink if I want to. There’s nothing else to do in this shithole, anyway.”
He dropped my arm and stomped off to the bar.
I turned back to my drink. Sam came and sat opposite me. You can’t escape the bloody Winchesters.
“Hey, you ok?” he asked with his puppy dog eyes.
“I’m fine. I had a free afternoon, I came to get a drink. Is that fucking crime now?”
“I meant about what happened with the guy. You seemed pretty upset.”
“Surprised you could see that, you were both so busy being silent.”
“Didn’t you hear Dean?”
“How could I hear Dean when he wasn’t saying anything?”
“No, he laid right into the guy.”
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I heard Dean get right back into his FBI voice as I walked off.”
“Yeah, he was still in character at first, told the guy that he needed to speak respectfully to Agents. And then when the guy was still a douche he got a bit more Dean and threatened to punch his lights out if he didn’t shut up about you.”
I laughed into my drink. I was sure Sam was embellishing, there was just no way Dean would care that much about someone being mean to me.
Speak of the devil, Dean appeared again, tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He put the water in front of me.
“Thanks, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” I said sarcastically.
“I’m not having you hung over tomorrow and being a liability to the case, drink the water.”
“I don’t remember electing you.”
“Jesus, you’re even more belligerent when drunk. Just drink the water and stop moping.”
“I’m not moping!”
“The guy was an asshole, no one thinks you look pregnant. But you can’t just drink yourself blotto and get yourself killed every time someone says something mean to you.”
I stood up, grabbed the glass of water and upended it all over Dean’s face. Then I marched out the door.
The effect was a little ruined by my drunken stagger, though.
---
Sam caught my arm as I got outside. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“I walked myself here, I can walk myself home!”
“I’m pretty sure you were walking in a straight line when you got here though. Come on.”
I let him tug me to the Impala. He must’ve grabbed the keys off Dean before chasing after me.
“He’s just worried about you,” he said gently as we were exiting the carpark. “Doesn’t want you getting hurt.”
“That does not give him a free pass to behave like that.”
---
Dean stood over me, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in his hands. “Morning, sunshine. Need some relief?”
I gratefully reached out. Man, I did not normally drink that much.
“What time is it?”
“Time to work the case.”
I groaned, “Can’t you do it without me?”
“No, come on, back on the horse.”
“It’s not the horse that’s the problem, it’s the dog that bit me.”
“I did tell you to drink water,” he said smugly.
“Fuck off!” I threw my pillow at him. He easily deflected but wisely left me alone after that.
I groaned and got off the couch I’d been sleeping on, slumping to the bathroom. The boys were sitting around the tiny table, already dressed and looking at their laptops.
Sam was gone when I came out, freshly showered, dressed and feeling slightly more human. I looked at Dean with a clear question on my face.
“He’s gone for coffee, thought you could use some.”
“Thanks.”
“I, uh,” Dean continued, more hesitantly, “I owe you an apology.”
I crossed my arms across my chest. An apology from Dean was a rare thing, but I was wary it was going to end up being a backhanded insult instead. I often felt like I needed to protect my heart from being hurt by him.
“I was worried about you getting hurt when I saw you were drunk. But I just tried to solve the problem, I didn’t actually talk to you, and I,” he paused, biting his lip, “I shouldn’t do that.”
“Nice to see I’m just a problem,” I replied sarcastically. I wasn’t sure why he was riling me so much, but I still felt so hurt and angry.
He stood up and came over to me. “You’re not a problem,” he said quietly, trying to look into my eyes. I ducked my head away from the intensity of his look. “And I am sorry that asshat upset you.”
“I didn’t get drunk just because some guy called me pregnant, you know.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, despite my best efforts not to.
“It’s a shitty thing he did anyway. You’re beautiful.”
I laughed mirthlessly.
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t put yourself down all the time.”
“Dean, your idea of beautiful is tall, thin, busty and great hair.”
“That’s not true.”
“Well, they’re all thin at least.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“The women you sleep with, the women you hit on.”
“I can think of many women I’ve hit on who aren’t ‘thin’, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Suuuure,” I said with an eye roll.
“But I haven’t hit on many women lately, been distracted by one in particular.”
“Let me guess, beautiful?”
“Absolutely.”
“My point exactly. It’s ok Dean, you don’t have to ma-” Dean’s fingers found my chin, nudging it up so I would like at him.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel it.”
I stared at him, mouth agape. Absolutely stunned into silence.
“And I’m sorry again that I was a bit of a dick yesterday.”
His face came even closer, watching my reactions.
“You’re my weak spot,” he whispered.
“No, I’m not.” I put my hands on his chest, “Dean, this isn’t funny, don’t tease me.”
He dropped his hand from my chin, looking hesitant. “Sweetheart, I’m putting my heart on the line here, I’m not teasing.”
My hands slackened.
He edged a tiny bit forward.
His tongue darted out and back in. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.
Was this even real?
How was this happening?
His hand came up to cup my cheek.
I leant forward.
The world suddenly sped up again. Dean moved in, closing the gap between us and bringing his lips to mine. I lost myself in the tenderness of his touch, the softness of his lips, the exploration of his tongue and mine.
A sudden noise made us pull apart. Sam was standing in the doorway, cardboard holder with coffees in one hand and the other on his hip.
“I’m happy for you guys and all, but we still have a case to work. You can pick this up later.”
.
.
.
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