Supernatural Oneshots

Thirteen-> Fucking Glasses

Dean sat at the Men of Letters table sipping coffee. Metal clanged from above and he looked up to see his younger brother stalking down the iron stairs, being true to his nickname of "moose" by taking large, heavy steps.

"So get this," he announced as he moved toward Dean. "Turns out our local optometrist," he chuckled, "is a demon."

Dean lifted his coffee mug into the air. "Awesome." He replied gruffly. He lowered the mug and chugged the rest of its contents in one gulp. "Well, I'll go get dressed and we'll go."

Sam's eyes went wide. He knew it'd be easy, but he didn't expect that. Lucky for him, Dean was always looking for the next hunt.

Twenty minutes later, Dean was jamming out to the AC/DC tape in the cassette player. "So where is this optometrist?" He asked as he pounded his hands against the steering wheel in time with the beat, looking left and right to turn onto the main road.

"Look, I'm just saying if we had a gps..." Sam muttered, unfolding their giant roadmap.

"No, no way, I am not douching up Baby with a gps."

Sam rolled his eyes. "At least I can read this map, unlike you. You squint more than Grandpa Campbell used to." He said under his breath.

"What'd you say?" Dean demanded.

"And dead." Sam continued. "Oh, I was just saying where to turn. I thought I was loud enough, sorry." He smiled briefly at Dean.

Dean nodded, still drumming along to the song. "Where do I turn?"

Sam looked down at the map again. "Right up...here." He looked down. "Okay, uh... oh, make a left up here and then we'll just take a right after that."

Dean grunted, probably annoyed with Sam's map skills, which were generally  spot on.

Dean shouldered his bag as Sam held the door for him. Inside, it was a usual day. Dean took a second to be caught off guard, then stumbled over to a seat in the waiting area. Sam walked up and signed a clipboard.

"What's that for?" Dean asked softly when he sat down beside him.

Sam smiled. "The optometrist is a demon. I got you an appointment with him."

Dean sighed. The doctor wasn't even a chick. Figures. "Why didn't you sign up for an appointment?"

"I did."

"Well, why'd you sign bo-"

"Dean Winchester?" A girl called from the desk.

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up. He followed the girl down a short hallway, until they reached a door with the number six on it. Dean inwardly snorted at the number. "So, miss, how's your day been?" He asked, trying to be polite. And to get into bed wth her.

She smiled warily. "Long, and it just started two hours ago. Sit down right there while I get your chart up." She shut the metal door and sat down in the office chair behind the computer. Dean sat up on a chair of his own. It had a footrest and short, thin arms. An eye machine of some sort was off to his left, the pretty nurse lady on his right.

"Right," she began. "Have you had any headaches?"

Dean nodded. "Occasionally, if I've been reading too long."

"Mm hmm, any medications?"

Dean shook his head, but thought of all his drinking. "I am a, uh, pretty heavy drinker."

"I see. How many drinks a week, Dean?"

Man, this lady could be Castiel with all her medical questions and adding his name onto them. And dangit, he was supposed to be hitting on this lady to get over the stupid angel. He was probably in Heaven right now, not giving a damn about him. Dean knew that wasn't true... Castiel cared about him, just not the way Dean wanted-

"Dean?" The girl brought him back to the office.

"What, sorry."

She laughed. "You're fine. I was still wondering how much you drank."

Dean thought for a moment. Honesty was the best policy, right? Besides, they'd leave this place forever pretty soon. He didn't plan on coming back. "I have a glass of scotch every night, along with a six pack of beer." He admitted. Jesus, it sounded so much worse out loud.

Her eyes grew a bit, but she seemed otherwise unfazed. "Uh huh. What about any smoking?"

"No." Dean snorted inside. He wouldn't smoke, but he'd drink. He was a walking contradiction.

The girl nodded, typing into his chart. "Alright, Mr. Winchester, the doctor will be in shortly." She smiled brightly before the door shut with a soft bang.

No matter what he did, even saying Christo under his breath, Dean couldn't find any reason to believe his overly loving eye doctor was a demon. She may have pissed people off, maybe, but she was a royal sweetheart to him. The only negative thing about her was that she prescribed glasses for Dean after seeing how much he'd squinted.

"Dean, why are you squinting at me?"

"Am I?" Dean asked, actually wondering.

She nodded. "Yes." She laughed in that bubbly way girls did. "Here, take this paper out and have one of the guys find you a pair of glasses."  She smiled genuinely at him as he slowly stood up and walked out of the little room. Glasses? Dean Winchester wore glasses now? What about Sam, the great bookworm? Fucking glasses.

Dean moved out into the open area with a new question: why had Sam told him the lady was demon? "Sam," he began icily. "My Doctor wasn't a demon. Care to explain?"

Sam shrugged. "I got tired of seeing you squint and I knew you wouldn't go of your own volition." He yawned. "Maybe they'll open your eyes to your blatant crush on Cas." He remarked.

"Huh?" Dean sputtered. "I do not!"

Sam turned his attention from the magazine to Dean with a bored expression. "I don't give a damn." He eyed the paper in Dean's hand. A slow smirk grew on his face. "You need glasses, don't you, Dean?" He asked slyly.

"Shut up!" He growled, storming off to find someone to help him pick out a pair of nerdy glasses.

"Hey, Cas, what do you think of Dean's glasses?"

Castiel whirled around. He let out a sudden squeak, then left the room with a flurry of feathers.

Dean blushed.

Sam smirked.