Meeting Them - Teen!Dean x Teen!Reader

Second Night

So you spent the rest of the day in the nurses office with an ice pack, two little blue pills, and a small bottle of Sprite, 'cause that'll fix anything in the mind of a high school nurse. Dean came about five minutes after the bell rang with Sam in tow. You tossed the melted bag in the trash, gave the Sprite to Sam, and walked out in between them. "What happened?" asked Sam once you got far enough away. "Did this to myself. Little bit of pinching, small self-made cut with a bush branch, fake tears," you grinned. There was a clicking sound and you whispered to Dean, "Take Sam up ahead, I want to see what the girls behind us are gonna try and do to me. Dad needs the cash, they have it, maybe take 'em to court? They won't hurt me, Dean, I can hold my own." He was stubborn about it at first, but Sam convinced him. So Sam wadded up a piece of paper and kicked it ahead, racing against Dean to get it. They rounded the corner and the clicking of high heels got faster and closer. You slowed down a bit and they attacked.

One of them grabbed your shoulder, the girl from the cafeteria. "Hey, freak. I told you we'd catch you eventually. He left you!" she sneered. "Well, technically, he's around the corner with Samy, but whatever," you said, shrugging towards the corner where they'd disappeared. "Don't sass me, bitch!" she snarled. You smiled in her face and she slapped you. "Oh, I'm deeply wounded," you replied dryly. "You don't talk to her like that! She's us and we are her," said another girl. "Oh, my! I'm shaking in my boots!" you said, holding up your hands up. The girl kicked you in the shins, sending you tumbling to the ground. "I saw you beat up my boyfriend! Now fight back!" snickered Sylvia. When you didn't reply, the third girl stomped on the bruise on your hip with her heel. You had to bite back a cry of pain. She smirked and spat on you before kicking you on the same spot again. This time, you yelled out. There was a grunt from the general direction of Dean and you stood up. "She just won't go down, will she, girls?" asked Sylvia with a sick grin on her perfect face. "Hell to the no," you said, spitting a mouthful of blood at her. It hit her square on the cheek and she screamed and ran away. The other two girl pushed you back down to the ground and started hitting and slapping and scratching. This time, Dean came around the corner, pushed them away, and landed a kiss right on your lips while dipping you. They were soft and gentle, molding with yours perfectly, just how you thought they'd be. The girls fell silent as he pulled away and stared up at them with laser eyes and ran away.

He finally looked back down at you and smiled gently. "You taste bloody good," he said. You stuck your red tongue out at him and stood up. You put your hand inside your jacket and pulled out the flask your dad had given you for emergencies. Sam's eyes widened, but you waved him away as you took a sip. The pain dulled with every sip, but you felt the hangover already. Drinking never affected you unless you drank copious amounts, but twice the hangover. A gift John swore you got from the mother you never met. That was the first reason you hated him. He always was so flippantly bringing her up, and for no reason, too. "Do you want me to carry you or can you walk?" asked Dean. You motioned for him to turn around and he did, letting you hope onto his back. Sam walked alongside you both and it was a hop, skip, and a jump to the hotel. 

Sam opened the door for you both and you slid off Dean's back. "Okay, homework while I fix some food, deal?" you said. Dean already had laid back on the bed and Sam had gone to the table to work on the essay the new teacher had assigned. "We're having mac n' cheese, that good?" you asked, setting the water out to boil. Bending down hurt like a mother, though, and you gave a whimper of pain. Dean lept up and took your hand in his, leading you to the table. "I'm making dinner tonight, sweetheart. Then we can do whatever you want," he said saucily. You rolled your eyes and Sam made a gagging motion. "You are such a dork, you know, Winchester?" you commented. "But you're dating me, so I did something right," he replied coolly.

"So if you put your answer in for the variable 'x', then it'll give you what angle is between 'y' and 'z'. So if you shoot from the top, you can calculate the distance it'll travel and how fast, giving you the upper hand. It works, I've tried it," you explained, pointing out each possibility. "What about the other stuff, like how fast they're trying to run away or the wind or the weight of the bullet?" inquired Sam. "That's a whole other lesson," Dean piped up, setting down a plate in front of both of you. "Hurry up and eat and you can have the TV while me and Dean do our work," you compromised. "Dean and I," corrected Sam, who picked up the plate and went to sit on the bed. Dean shrugged and slid into the seat across from you.

You both finished quickly and made the boys do their dishes. "Okay, I'm exhausted, so let's hurry up and get to bed," you sighed, sitting back down. Dean dragged the chair around to be closer to you and you began. It took another two hours, but you knocked out math, English, and history, saving anatomy and physiology for the bus ride in the morning. You packed up for Dean and yourself before collapsing into the bed beside him. He reached out and entwined his fingers with yours, pulling you close to him in the process. "Why did you change your mind?" he asked after a while. "You're a Winchester. I hate you by default, but I think maybe I shouldn't judge you by your dick of a father," you responded. "He's not so bad," rebutted Dean. "I hate him with the burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. I absolutely loathe him. But you're not like him. And Sam, oh, Sam, he's so like John, but so different. Passionate and stubborn and loyal and all the things I hate John for, but not. You're both taking after your mother, I suppose. She must have been amazing," you said, leaning your head back onto the pillow. 

"She was."