Take Me Out to the Ball Game (Dean x Reader)

Dean x Reader One Shot

"I need more excuses to eat nacho cheese," You turned to see Dean shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth. "This stuff is like liquid gold." He said, bits of food falling from his cheeks onto his New York Mets shirt you had bought a few minutes ago. You laughed.

Dean seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the Mets game you had convinced them to attend so far. The boys definitely deserved a break, the werewolf pack the three of you had followed to the big Apple had proved to be difficult. Truth was, you weren't some huge fan of baseball, but upon remembering a few games spent in the summer sun of the past, you decided it would be fun. The smell of hotdogs and the roaring of the crowd was exciting as a kid, even if you didn't know what was going on in the game, it was still time well spent with your family.

"Can you at least act like an adult?"

Sam chuckled on your other side, shifting in his seat to get a better view of his brother who had currently brought his shirt up to his face, licking the cheese that had made it's way down the Mets logo.

"Dude what else do you want me to do? I am not wasting perfectly good cheese!"

You threw back your head as you laughed once again and Dean smacked the bill of your backward baseball cap causing it to fly into your lap.

"Hey shut up! You're the one who dropped her ice cream on her seat and then ate what was salvageable!"

"But I didn't lick it off the chair! And an ice cream here is like five bucks, I would've eaten it even if it fell on the ground."

Dean was the one laughing now and Sam muttered something next to you about how many people use these seats, about how many germs you had ingested.

It was currently the top of the third inning, still pretty early in the game, and you could tell the boys were already enjoying themselves. This was such as great idea. The best part of the game wasn't just the atmosphere of excitement but the fact you got to see the boys smile and have fun. You were sick of their 'all work, no play' attitude.

About two innings later you wove through the crowd with three beers in a holder. For a moment you stopped to check your shoe after they began to resist lifting from the concrete, you had stepped in something sticky. That was a ballpark for you. You continued on with a grimace, making a mental note to clean your shoes when you got back to the bunker.

It wasn't until someone grabbed you by the arm did you realize you had walked past your seats. But the hand holding you was too small and clammy to be either one of the boys.

Looking up, you found yourself looking into the eyes of a tall brown haired boy who couldn't have been older than eighteen. He flashed you what you assumed was his attempt at a flirty smirk.

"You like a man with an arm, sweetheart?"

You were utterly confused. You had no idea who this kid was or what the hell he was talking about.

"What?"

You suddenly grew conscious of his tightening grip on you and you would have removed it if you didn't need both hands to hold your drinks. The boy pointed to sign hanging on the chain link fence a few feet away reading 42 mph. It took a moment to realize he was trying to boast about his "success" in the pitching game he stood beside.

"Dude, just get off me." You tried to shake him off but he held fast. He was starting to give you a bad feeling, he hadn't let go of you since he had first spoken to you. You looked around in a panic, hoping someone around you would lend you some assistance and tell the guy to fuck off, but no one said a word as they strode past you. You were obviously uncomfortable and this kid was starting to get too rough for it to be considered friendly.