about how Dean would end up with a chubby chick because of how he stuffs his face and makes women feel comfortable around him. So this one shot ficlet happened. She doesn't write fanfic, so she's pretty worried about feedback! If you could give her a few words, she'd really appreciate it. uvu I myself am new to SPN so I couldn't help her if I tried.
It was the third time that week.
Normally, Dean didn't much pay attention to what his wife did in the bathroom. That was lady business so far as he was concerned. Sometimes, he heard her crying when she showered. That was only once in awhile around a certain time of the month and he didn't want to touch with a ten foot fuckin' pole. He loved her but that side of her scared the ever loving shit out of him.
And he would have assumed it was one of those times under normal circumstances. But these weren't normal and it was the third time in seven days. So he had a right as her loving husband to be worried! She was one tough bitch and he loved her for it so for her to get like this meant something serious was up. And she wasn't even showering so there was absolutely no mistake about those sounds he was hearing.
But Dean being Dean, he didn't really know just how to approach this challenge. She'd sent him out for groceries or dinner rather considering sending him out for groceries was a risky task. He tended to come back with God only knew what so she did it herself.
He sat the burgers on the counter of the little motel kitchenette and approached the bathroom door with caution. It was cracked a bit so he could peer inside.
What he saw sent chills down his spine.
Yes, his wife was standing there right in front of the mirror, thunder thighs and all. But she held a gun against her head, fully cocked, a note written on the bathroom mirror in permanent marker as tears streamed down her face.
"NO!" he burst out, slamming the door wide and taking her by surprise.
Her eyes widened as he tackled her to the tile floor, knocking the gun from its notch by her forehead. It fired into the ceiling sending harmless, dusty particles down on the couple as Dean frantically wrestled it from her grip. Checking it, he saw it had contained only one bullet.
"D-dean?" she choked out, eyes wide and scared.
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he burst out, red in the face and she curled up in on herself. Her tears only intensified as she hid her head in her knees.
"I was making a gingerbread house covered in pink fucking icing. What did it look like, dumbass?" her voice was muffled but he caught every word.
Devastated, he threw the gun aside into the next room as he sat back on his heels, trying to figure out what was going on here. "I know what you were doing," he struggled to keep himself patient. "But what were you thinking? I mean why do it?"
"You know why," she shot back.
"Oh baby," Dean uncurled her from her ball and took her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, trying to choke back tears. "Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?"
They'd been hunting a werewolf problem in the area. Ellen had sent them word, said she had called Sam but he was in the middle of something. They had just finished up with a particularly nasty zombie uprising and decided well why not? But the job didn't go as well as either of them had thought it would.
Dean knew the woman he had married wasn't a particularly fast runner. That wasn't why he married her or why he was even attracted to such a large woman. She was smart with a razor wit sharp enough to keep up with his antics. She could research circles around Sam and she was one hell of a babe. But she wasn't a fast runner. And she'd gotten tangled with the werewolf.
Luckily, it hadn't bitten her but it had left her with a pretty nasty wound on her left side. Scratched her sides open and left her insides hanging out on her outsides. It'd scared the hell out of Dean but she'd patched herself up. Which was why they were still here instead of on another case. He couldn't risk leaving her in a hotel room by herself to heal up for too long. Not because she was incapable or anything but because he worried about her. She always brushed him aside but this was Dean. When did he not worry?
They'd gone back to Ellen's for a couple of beers. It was bad enough she'd nearly had her side clawed open but the hunters there had to make it even worse.
"Why the fuck is a girl like that even hunting?" one had said. "She's too damn fat and she slows the Winchester boy down. Why he married her when she can't even keep up with him is beyond me."
Ellen had kicked his ass out and told him never to come back but the damage had been done. And now here Dean was holding his wife in his arms as she cried. She thought he was better off without her. Which wasn't true of course.
He loved her squishy stomach and soft thighs. There was more to love, he kept telling her even if she wouldn't believe him. Dean loved that he could pig out and she would happily join him, even out eat him. He loved holding her close and kissing at her ears as she squirmed away from him, telling him to pay attention to whatever it was she deemed more important. But she was his world and he'd almost lost that.
"Baby," he crooned in her ear softly. "Don't listen to them. You can plenty keep up with me."
"No I can't!" she practically shouted back. "I'm fat and slow and I'm holding you back! I should have done the brave thing and put a gun to my head a long time ago! Then you could hunt without worrying about me."
Dean's heart hurt to hear her say that. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and gentle. He could taste her tears and the coke she downed earlier. Coke and bourbon. That was the tang he tasted. Dammit!
As he pulled away, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. "I didn't fall in love with you 'cause you look like some chick out of a porn magazine. I fell in love with you 'cause you can shoot better than anybody. Your cooking makes me wanna punch somebody and you make me laugh. And I don't know what I'd do without you. No matter what any of the hunters say, I need you. You keep me from busting people in the jaw. You keep me human."
She sniffled, searching his eyes, biting her lip. He loved when she did that so he squeezed her closer.
"You wanna know something?" his fingers were in her hair. "I've been with a lot of women. You know that. But of all the women I've been with, nobody ever had your smile. Nobody could ever light up a room like you do with your laugh. Besides," he caressed her waist, "you're hot. Like mega hot."
She giggled when he said that, burying her face in his shirt. She felt a little bit better but still awful about herself.
"But I'm so big and all I do is eat. Isn't that a turn off?"
Dean snorted, kissing the top of her hair to hide it. "You've seen me eat."
"Yeah but you're not fat."
"Baby, it doesn't matter if you're fat or skinny to me. What I care about is that you're happy and safe ok?"
She nodded, no longer crying. She pulled away to wipe at her face. She knew she looked ugly with tears and snot everywhere but Dean only grabbed some toilet paper and helped her. He was careful, gentle and stole more kisses before tossing the tissue away.
They'd first met a few years back, both hunting a vengeful spirit. But while he'd been stuck ogling her triple Ds, she had fired a clean shot of rock salt through the ghost's head, saving Dean from some serious shit. He'd asked for her name and she'd just brushed him off, assuming he was another guy just playing with her.
"Think you have enough brain power to remember my name when you can't even pay attention to the ghost behind you?" she had rolled her eyes and continued on. "Don't worry about this job. I'm a big girl. I can handle it."
"Aw, c'mon," he had jogged to catch up with her, Sam rolling his eyes in the background. "Don't be like that. My brother and I are already here and it looks like we could sure use your help."
"Yeah right, Winchester," she'd known him from the other hunters' talk in the bars. "You totally need my help. Why don't you and your brother go play poker or something with the other boys, huh? Let me handle this myself. I tie my own shoes and everything."
"How do you know my name?" he'd been taken aback as she continued following the trail of ectoplasm to an air duct. Sam was still trailing behind, observing their encounter.
"Anybody who's anybody in this business knows Dean and his brother Sam. Since you're hitting on me, I'll assume you're Dean. Word gets around about how much you just love the ladies," she got down on her knees to begin unscrewing the air vent, tongue poked out in concentration. "But seriously, boys. I can handle this on my own. Now scram."
Dean didn't scram until she'd aimed her gun at his head and cocked the hammer. Getting the message, he and Sam vacated the premises rather quickly. But that hadn't chased him off. Not really.
"Dude, she needs our help. She could get hurt," Dean insisted.
Sam just rolled his eyes, grinning. "She said she was fine, Dean. She aimed a gun at your head. The only reason you want to stay is so you can hit on her. Why don't we just go? She has this just fine."
Some how, some way, Dean had managed to convince his brother to stay and they ended up running into her at the morgue. She had on protective goggles and was elbow deep in corpse juices. It was clear she wasn't dicking around like the two boys had been but that she knew what she was doing around a dead body.
"Not you two chucklefucks," she groaned. "Didn't I say to get lost already? I can handle this job on my own."
Dean smiled, donning a pair of gloves himself. Meanwhile, Sam had holed up in a corner to eye his brother and possibly pull him out of firing range of this fire cracker. If anybody could get the drop on him, it would have been her.
"Yeah, well, you're stuck with us, sister. What did you find with the corpse?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," her tone was peevish but she wasn't nearly as upset as she was coming across. Just wary in case he was playing her. "I'm sure you've already figured out a connection and you're ready to go back to ground zero and shoot anything that moves. I'm here looking to see if there's some weakness I can exploit. I'm no good to anybody injured."
Banter ensued. Sam snickered back in the corner before quietly making his way out. It looked like Dean could handle himself. And the mysterious stranger was perfectly capable at handling his brother. No need to worry.
That was the first job the three had worked together but it wasn't the last. She was in charge of medical shit at the morgue since she'd attended school and actually knew what that whole mess involved while Sam did preliminary research and Dean did what he was best at - kept an eye out for potential new jobs.
Dean couldn't help but smile at the flood of memory he had gotten just holding her here on the bathroom floor. She had cussed him on more than one occasion and that first time seeing her had been a shot straight to the groin. His wife was a pistol and a half, a block of dynamite and too much woman for even him to handle sometimes. Which is what made him love her so much.
"You remember the first time we met?" he asked, smiling and she snorted in response.
"Yeah. You were too busy eyeing me to keep yourself safe from that nasty bastard. You didn't even hear Sam call your name."
"You told me to scram. That you were a big girl who could tie your own shoes and everything before cocking a gun at my head. It was filled with rock salt, yeah but it would have hurt like hell," Dean chuckled.
They were standing now and his fingers were tangled in hers as he helped her hobble from the bathroom. That tackle had pulled her stitches open and there was a huge spot of blood pooling on her shirt. He frowned at himself. Yeah, he had saved her life but he didn't mean to hurt her in the process.
She frowned at him. "Wipe that look off your face, Winchester and go get me the first aid kit. I'm fine. Though you might have dislocated your shoulder when you tackled me."
He had but he didn't want to mention it. As he turned away, she swung her arm and smacked him firmly with the heel of her palm, jerking it back into place.
"FUCK!" he yelled out in surprise. "You could have warned me!"
"Nah," she was panting, wounds more open than before. "You woulda pissed yourself in anticipation. Now get me… urg… the first aid kit."
He did as he was told as she lowered herself to the bed, grimacing. She focused on the pain, not letting it take over or get the better of her. That's when there was a knock on the door. Dean tossed her the kit, saying he'd take care of it as she patched herself up.
"Yes?" the motel manager was on the other side. He didn't look pleased.
"Just got a report in saying there were gunshots coming from this room."
"Nope. Must be the one upstairs. I heard something coming from there."
Arguing ensued until finally, Dean fished out his wallet and fisted some shut up money at the other man. He had a wife to take care of and generally didn't have time for this nonsense. The gun going off was literally the least of his problems.
As the door shut, she was saying something to him. "-had to pay him off?"
"Something like that."
"Dammit, Dean. I earned that money!"
"You won it hustling pool," he rolled his eyes before sitting down to apply ointment to her side as she held up her shirt. He could tell she wasn't wearing a bra which was for the best all things considered.
Once finished, he grabbed the burgers from the counter and made his way over to the bed. "No mayo or pickles cause both makes everything else slide off. Just like you like it."
She made an appreciative noise before digging in. Burgers. Yes. Good. Very good. He handed her the coke when she looked up at him before settling once again into the food as if she'd never eaten in her life. Of course this led to Dean admiring her as he ate. She never did hold back. Not with things like that.
She sat back with a sigh, satisfied before letting herself flop onto the bed. Dean tossed their trash into a corner before slipping out of his shoes and pants to join her for the night. She was wearing one of those huge ACDC shirts he bought for her a little while back and a pair of pink panties.
As she curled up onto her good side to rest, he admired the way her skin dimpled around her thighs. It was so interesting to him to see her skin do that. It also changed to a lighter shade when it stretched, leaving lightning like marks he liked to trace with his fingers. The ones around her stomach were the ugly dark red of really nasty scars but Dean thought they looked good on her. Almost worn in as if telling him the tale of her life.
She scooted into him and he put his arm around her, happy to still have her with him. She liked the smell of his shirt just as much as he liked the softness of her sides.
And so they held each other, two hearts intertwined.