Killing Floor

Killing Floor - chapter 1

Author's notes:

Hey guys! I've already posted this work on a different site (which I'm not disclosing because I want to make you go through the WIP... *evil laughter*) but I wanted it in more than one place, for funsies. Also, because I'm thirsty for extra comments. Thank you for reading my story, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It's a slow burn, so please  be patient as it builds. I've had this story in my head for quite some time and there's a special place in my heart for Dean x reader inserts, because truth be told, I ship Dean with me. So this trip would be an actual dream come true. I love Led Zeppelin and have done extensive research to make sure the narrative is as historically accurate as possible, but since this specific concert is so grossly under-documented, it's possible I got a few things wrong, for which I apologize. Rest assured that I did my best. Have fun going on this adventure with Dean!

Killing Floor Chapter 1

It wasn't the first time you had accidentally fallen asleep on Dean's bed. The mattress was softer than yours, the bunker noises weren't as loud on his end of the hallway, and his pillow smelled nice. You blink awake as you notice Dean sleeping sitting down on the floor in the corner of the room with headphones on and his arms loosely crossed, his head leaning into the wall as he breathes deeply. That cannot be comfortable. He's going to be grumpy when he wakes up with a crick in his neck. Carefully, as not to make the bed creak, you sit up and shift through his dresser. There's no way you're doing the walk of shame into the kitchen when nothing even happened between you two. You find a red shirt you've never seen him wear and throw it on over your tank top. You're still wearing the same jeans from yesterday, but... they're jeans. The outfit is convincing enough, so you tiptoe to the door.

"Hey," a gravelly voice behind you stops you mid-stride. You turn towards the corner where the voice comes from and offer an embarrassed smile. "Nice shirt."

You smooth it down and notice it's a Led Zeppelin shirt with the burning Hindenburg as the artwork on the front. It's very soft, obviously quite old. Not one of those things you pick up in the band tee section of any department store -- you're pretty sure this thing was vintage.

"Oh, uh," you stammer, "sorry, I was just... Where did you get this?"

Still too tired to form complete sentences, Dean closed his eyes and shrugged with a close-mouthed "I don't know" sound in this throat. He rubbed his neck and grumbled, his eyes wandering to the bed as he recollected being kind enough to not interrupt your much-needed sleep after yesterday's vamp hunt and impromptu vinyl collection concert.

"Coffee?" you offered. For all the things you didn't tell him, you did let it slip that you could fall asleep to anything Motorhead after a tiring day. Last night in the bunker hallway he told you he had a few of their albums, which you were so excited about you embarrassed yourself, so with a smirk he gathered his favorite three and put one on the player. You sat on the bed, feet dangling excitedly, as Ace of Spades blared in room 11. You laid your head on his pillow as your body began to relax, and the last thing you remember is Dean plopping down onto the floor with a portable cassette player and headphones.

Dean woke up enough to rub the sleep out of his eyes at the word coffee. "Please," he replied, still rubbing his neck absentmindedly.

Sam was already in the kitchen by the time you came in. He turned when he heard the soft "pat, pat, pat" of your feet across the hard bunker floor. He was doing something strange with his own cup of coffee in a blender with what appeared to be butter and cinnamon. "Good morning Y/N," he greeted with a smile.

"Hey Sam," you said as you inhaled the smell of coffee and... whatever the hell he had going on with the rest of the ingredients. You weren't ready for another health food explanation, so you decided to not even ask.