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coffee-obsessed-writer · 5 years

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New Friends

Dean x Reader (platonic); Sam Winchester

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo2019. Just a Lil bit of cuteness and fluff where Dean is being helpful to a stranger.

Square filled: Shark Week

Summary: Dean & Sam try to find some respite from the road but Dean gets distracted by some sharks and the cute clerk behind the counter.

WC: 3.5K

Warnings: Language

Summer in Jersey, there was no shortage of people coming in and out of town. With the beach being in your backyard, there was an even larger swarm of people that traveled through the area, and the hotel you worked at. Faces all seemed to blend together, especially when they were all tired and worn out from the sun, surf and kids they had in tow.

It was the end of August, and as the summer season began to wind down, the days got more humid and the tourists began to thin out. Those who remained, stayed close to the pool and water parks, as the ocean was full of jellyfish and the biting flies were reclaiming the beaches.

You could be found behind the desk of Sunny’s Roadside Inn, three blocks from the main drag and two from the beach. It wasn’t a big place but had enough rooms to keep you busy from Memorial Day to Labor Day. For everyone else, it was just another Monday in the summer. For you, it was the most anticipated day of the season. It was the first day of shark week, and you were hoping that one of the last two rooms would stay vacant, so you could sneak off down there later and watch on one of the big-screen TVs. Until then though, the small one that was off to the side of the check-in desk would have to do.

You had turned to the Discovery channel and popped the top on a bottle of Stewart’s Root Beer just as the door to the office opened, signaling the little bell over the door. The two guys that strolled in looked road-weary and in need of a good meal. They trudged to the desk and the taller of the two, dressed in far too many layers of clothing for spending any time at the shore, approached the counter with his wallet in hand.

“We need a room, please. Whatever you got is fine.” He pulled out a credit card and slapped it on the counter.

“Whatcha looking for?” you asked casually, “we have two rooms left. Two twins or a king?”

“Two twins, please. My brother and I stopped sharing a bed when I was three.”

“Fair enough,” you said and took his card, then passed him the paperwork. “Staying a night or planning on adding more?”

“Can we book a week?” he asked, and ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, accentuating the drawn, dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Sure,” you replied and went back to the reservation book to write them in.

The TV beside you began to fluctuate in volume, alerting you that Alien Sharks had finally started. You turned your attention to it as ‘Walt Frohman’ signed the paperwork to take custody of Room 107. You had gotten immediately drawn into the show, you didn’t hear him calling you. He had to reach over and tap your shoulder to garner your full attention.

“Miss? You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah… sorry. I get so wrapped up in this…” you said and motioned towards the TV.

“Soaps?” The other guy asked as he approached the desk. “Catching up on your stories?” He wore a smirk like it was a badge of honor, and it immediately irritated you.

The taller one at the counter gave him a sideways look and spat his name chastising him like he was a child. “Dean!”

“What? I’m making conversation,” he shrugged and leaned on the counter, taking a peek at the screen just as footage of a Frill Shark swimming by shown on the screen. “Holy shit! That’s one FUGLY… what the Hell is that, anyway?”

“A Frill shark. Dude, that’s nothing. You should see the Gulper and Pacific Sleeper sharks. You wanna talk fugly…” You shook your head and wrinkled your nose.

You watched him as his eyes grew wide with interest the longer he watched. The smirk fell away and an intense curiosity replaced it.

“Dean, come on. I wanna sleep. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute, Sam.” Dean leaned in closer.

‘Sam,’ you thought, ‘that’s not the name on the card.’ You casually looked at the guy's credit card that was sitting on the counter beside you waiting to be run through the reader.

“Sam?” you asked, and held it up, stuck between your middle and pointer finger. “Says here your Walt Frohman. Last I knew, Sam wasn’t a nickname for Walter. Gonna try and tell me that’s your dad? Grandfather? One of them springing for your summer vacay?”

Dean’s attention fell away from the television now, too, and the brothers exchanged a look of nervous uncertainty.

“Well, I, uh…” Sam stuttered.

“Can we pay cash? Make it just for one night, instead?” Dean covered and flashed the smile you assumed he reserved for when he wanted to use his good looks to get him out of a jam.

You looked between them, both men were clearly exhausted and road-worn, but something about them felt safe. You had seen your fair share of swindlers and criminals, and even if they had a fraudulent credit card, you just didn’t feel the need to bust them on whatever scam they were pulling. Besides, the tall one was cute, and the other one… well… you wouldn’t turn him away from your bed.

“It's fine. You can stay. Just keep in mind that around here during the summer, people pay attention. If you’re gonna use a fake credit card, at least make sure your friend here calls you by the appropriate name.”

“Brother,” Sam sighed. “My big brother.”

“Well, maybe next time remind big bro here which alias you’re gonna be using,” you winked and cast a glance to Dean who was about to retort with some comeback. Sam stopped him before he could and just shook his head.

“Dean, just pay the lady. I really wanna sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah…” he grumbled and pulled his wallet from his jeans. “Make it two nights, sweetheart. Okay?”

“You said one night,” you replied and leaned your elbows on the counter, leaning over just enough so that Dean’s eyes couldn’t help but flutter down to catch a glimpse of your cleavage. “Also...” you paused to snap your fingers, making his gaze recoil up to meet yours. “Eyes up top, buddy. Also, I am not your sweetheart. So, if you would prefer to just get a room and quietly be on your way, keep the cutesy little names to yourself. You feel me, Dean?”

“Oh, I feel you,” he said, that earlier smirk returning full bore. “I feel you loud and clear.” Despite the chastising warning you gave, he seemed to be flirting with you anyway.

Dean slapped the money on the counter and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Make it two nights. Please, ma’am.”

Though he was being compliant, there was still something mischievous burning in his green eyes. Maybe your earlier assessment was wrong and they were trouble; at least this one was anyway. Even still, you took his cash and counted it out before adding it to the register. You also took the reservation form that Sam filled out under a false name and added it to the guest files.

From under the counter, you retrieved the room key for 107 and handed it to Sam. “Two nights. Room 107. Enjoy your stay.”

He took it gratefully and retrieved his bag from the floor. “Thank you,” he sighed and turned to go back out of the office door. Dean hung back a moment, his eyes floating back to the television and a new, disturbing looking shark. You couldn’t help but laugh when you once again saw his expression transformed into this mix of horrified fascination.

“What, uh… what channel is this?” he asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Discovery. Channel 38 in your room if you want to watch it.”

“Thanks, swee--” he stopped himself from finishing and turned to fully face you. “I’m sorry, I never did get your name.”

“Y/N,” you said, mildly impressed that he even asked. Not many people did.

“Thank you, Y/N. For, you know… everything”

“You’re welcome, Dean. Just do me a favor, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Use cash around here. Unless you’re looking to go to jail. They are pretty vigilant and look for shit like this especially during the tourist season.”

“So how come you let it slide?”

You shrugged. “You caught me on a good day. First day of Shark Week and all.”

Dean laughed and tapped the counter with his knuckles. “How’s that for timing, then, huh? Well, I appreciate it, Y/N. Guess I should go catch up to my brother before he takes the good bed.”

“Room 107?” you mumbled, and then took a second to think. “You want the bed closest to the bathroom. Better mattress and less of a glare on the TV. Gonna need that if you plan on watching.” You nodded your head towards your television.

“I’ll keep that mind,” he said and moved away from the counter, picking up his bag off the floor. “See ya around…” Dean pushed the office door open and hesitated for a beat, to turn and look at you over his shoulder.

You found his expression amusing and couldn’t help but ask, “Is that a question, threat or a promise?”

He smiled that damned smirk, the one that was now leaning more towards attractive than irritating. “Oh, definitely a promise.”

The rest of the afternoon in the office was quiet, except for the family that came in just before your shift at the front desk was supposed to come to an end. Right as “Monster Tag” came to an end, a shocking burst of noise poured through the front door of the office, as a family of five invaded the small space. Two very exhausted parents were desperately trying to wrangle their three smaller children to be quiet and calm down, and you were disappointed knowing that they were there to claim the very last room available.

‘So much for chilling out in the nice room for a night,’ you thought as the father finally reached the front desk.

“Can I help you?” you asked, in your best customer service voice.

“I need a room, any room. Please,” he begged, his hand was already reaching for his wallet and pulling out a credit card.

“I only have a King available, but I think there are some cots in the storeroom I could have maintenance bring down.”

“Yes, that’s… that would be wonderful. Every other place for miles is booked solid.”

“Yup, we fill up fast around here. Just fill this out and I’ll get your key,” you handed him the form and put the key on the counter as his credit card processed through, and rang back approved.

You picked up the office phone and called down to your maintenance man, but there was no answer. Realizing he already left, meant you had to retrieve the cots yourself. Your whole body sighed quietly, as you watched the kids run circles around their mother while simultaneously pulling the brochures out of the holder by the front door.

You were about to speak up—shout, actually—telling them to stop, but before you could, the door to the office opened again, and this time it was Dean that came strolling through. He caught your gaze over the chaos, and the horrific look of panic on his face caused you to laugh to yourself and think, Dude, I know. This sucks. He just barely dodged one of the kids as they raced around the small office.

Before you could see what Dean needed, the father of the brood grabbed him assuming he was the maintenance man. “Hey buddy, we’re room 105. Can you bring the cots there?”

“No, sir, that’s not--” you started to speak up.

Dean, immediately grasping the situation, stepped in. “Yeah, sure. Why don’t you guys go get settled in and I’ll have them brought right over.”

From behind him, there was a crash. The mom gasped as one of her kids had gotten pushed squarely into the lamp that resided near the brochures. Dean caught it just as it fell to the floor and set it back where it should be.

“Oops,” he smiled, and opened the office door to usher the family out to their room.

In a matter of seconds, the room was blessedly silent again and you had an overwhelming urge to kiss or hug him in gratitude.

“How did you do that so calmly? I was ready to lose my shit.”

Dean shrugged. “Dealing with chaos is kinda my thing. I was just coming by to see if you were still around. I did promise you would see me later.”

“You did,” you smiled, though still tense from the boisterous family. “But I am just about to leave, actually. Just have to deliver those cots, and I am out of here for the night.”

“I can help you if you want.”

“Why would you?”

“You did us a solid. So, the least I could do is give you a hand.”

You studied his face carefully and couldn’t read him. “Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am. Just trying to be a good Samaritan,” he said and flashed you that cocky smirk.

“Mhm… okay. Come on then, I’ll take you up on the offer to help. I’d like to be out of here and home by nine.”

You opened the small half door that swung open to the back of the office and motioned for him to follow you through. Dean continued to follow you through the maze of doors until you stopped at the one labeled “MAINTENANCE”.

Once the door was open, you moved aside so he could enter and flipped on the light. He spotted the cots immediately and moved to start bringing them out.

“Good God it’s a million degrees in here,” he whined and immediately stopped to pull off the flannel he wore over his T-shirt.

“Well, you’re in Jersey… in August. What did you expect there, champ? A maintenance closet is going to be sweltering this time of year.”

Dean looked over his shoulder with one brow raised. “I don’t see you sweating.”

“I’m used to it. Also,” you gestured towards your clothing and flashed him a sarcastic smile, “...not dressed in jeans and a flannel.”

“Hold this,” he grunted and quickly discarded the flannel, then shoved it into your hands.

You stepped out of the way and watched as he pulled three of the cots out into the hallway, lining them up against the wall. He reached towards you take his flannel back and didn’t flinch when your hands touched.

“Uh, 105, right?” he asked.

“Yep. If you can take one, I’ll take one and come back for the other.”

“Not necessary,” he said and grabbed the two cots, one in each hand. “Just grab that last one.”

From the office, you could hear the phone ringing. “Shit. I’ll be right back.”

Getting to the office just as it was about to stop ringing, you answered with an exasperated greeting. “Sunny’s Roadside Inn, how can I help you?”

“Y/N? It’s Carl. I won’t be able to make it in. Can you cover me?”

“Dude? Seriously. That’s the third time this week. Tonight was my night off! I had plans--”

“Watching tv is not having plans, Y/N.”

“Shut up, Carl! So what’s the excuse, huh?”

“My car broke down. Waiting for a tow.”

“You live three miles from here,” you sighed and slumped down into the chair behind the desk. That’s when Dean peaked his head in and as quietly as he could, brought all three cots out into the office.

“I’ll take your full shift tomorrow, promise.”

“Whatever. Bye.” You slammed the receiver down and let your head fall to the counter.

“Problem?” Dean asked and walked over to the front of the desk.

“My night manager called out, so I can’t leave. Gotta stay till morning.” Even you could hear and hated how whiny you sounded.

“Well, that’s some bullshit. Doesn’t he know its Shark Week?!” Dean seemed genuinely bothered by it on your behalf.

“Some people just don’t have their priorities straight,” you shrugged and stood up from the chair. “Guess I should get these to 105.”

“Wait. I got an idea. You hang here. I’ll drop these off to 105, and be right back. Okay?”

“Uh, okay. Why?” you asked, curious, yet hesitant as to the angle he was working. Dean and his brother may be harmless, but they did come through with a fake credit card and fake names. You didn’t want your hackles to be up, but sometimes it was a necessity.

“Come on, trust me. That’s half the fun,” he teased and flashed a smile that could only mean trouble. Yet, you were still so intrigued by what he had planned.

“Trust you?” you laughed and walked around the counter to pick up one of the cots. “You came here with a fake credit card for a room. You and your brother look like you’ve been on the run for a year and you want me to trust you?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders along with his entire expression. “Yeah. Look. We’re not on the run, our job takes us all over. As for the card... “ he shrugged again and spread his hands out as if to say what do you want me to say?

The truth was, you liked him. He was cocky and a smidge pushy, but there was something about him that you found intriguing and far different from the normal lot that came in and out of the hotel

“You know, alright. It’s been a weird day. Why not. Take these on down to 105, and for helping me out I’ll give you guys a night on the house.”

“Well alright,” he grinned and headed out to 105 with two cots in hand.

It was an hour before Dean returned for the second time once all the cots had been delivered to the weary family that stumbled in earlier. When he entered the office again, he was carrying several plastic bags that he heaved onto the counter.

“Alright, we are stocked on snacks,” he said, beaming with pride as he turned one of the bags upside down and spilled its contents across the surface. From the other, he pulled out two six-packs of beer and several lengths of jerky. “We got all your major binge-watching food groups… beer, of course, then jerky… we got your salty snacks, your sweet snacks. Then, for the discerning junk food aficionado like myself, licorice.”

“Licorice? What are you, eight?” you teased as you slowly picked through the snacks, sneaking a glance up at him.

“Hey, don’t knock it. It's a quality snack food!” Dean replied, exasperated.

“I’m not arguing. I actually love licorice. I just think it's funny… and kinda cute that you’re so excited about it,” you shrugged, and when you looked up at him, you returned a similar smirk to his own to his and gave him a little wink.

“Oh,” he said, recanting his expression and returning to a smile. “Good. I was afraid that maybe you weren’t a cute girl, but a monster who doesn’t like good snacks.”

“Haha,” you groaned and motioned for him to come back around. “There’s an extra stool over in the corner. Bring it on over. You’re just in time for the start of ‘Shark After Dark’.”

Dean’s eyes went to the TV as he came around to your side of the counter. “What’s this one about?”

“Sharks… after dark,” you said sarcastically, trying not to laugh as he rolled his eyes.

“It's like hanging out with my brother,” he mumbled as he grabbed the barstool and moved it over towards yours, but left enough breathing room between the two.

“Well, I think I’m a little cuter than he is.”

Dean smiled and nodded as he climbed onto the stool. “Maybe a little.”

He grabbed two beers from the paper sleeves, opened both then handed one to you. Before taking a sip, you clinked the tops of the bottles.

“To Shark Week,” you said and brought the bottle to your lips.

“To Shark Week! Also… to new friends,” Dean added, following your lead and taking a long pull from the bottle, but his eyes were fixed to you as he drank.

“New friends,” you repeated and held his gaze for as long as you could before needed to turn away from the intensity of it.

Strangers came and went every single day of the summer season, and you’d be hard-pressed to describe any of them should someone ask. Not even the frazzled family from hours earlier stuck out as anything special, other than extremely noisy. Something told you, however, that Dean was different. Whether he stayed two minutes, two nights or two weeks… he would never be someone you would forget.

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