A/N: This is a birthday present for one of the first people I ever talked to here on Tumblr, @but-deans-back-tho (aka Allie). Allie encouraged me to let my smutty freak flag fly instead of hiding the fact that I essentially spend most of my time here reading porn. This is personalized for Allie, but written as a reader insert, so everyone else can enjoy it, too. Special thanks to @littlegreenplasticsoldier who beta-read this for me and has been generally wonderful as fuck to me the past few weeks.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALLIE!!
Summary: Dean wants to celebrate your new job by taking care of you in a new way.
Pairing: Dean x Reader (Allie)
Warnings: All the smut, but no butt stuff. Any other warnings would just be spoilers.
Word count: 4515 (I regret nothing, Allie deserves the best.)
As you drove home from your first day as a veterinarian, you couldn’t stop smiling. All the years of hard work, all the studying, all the time away from friends and family, had finally come together. You had your first job as a full-fledged veterinarian at a thriving practice. The first day had been mostly getting oriented, filling out tax forms, meeting the staff, and learning where everything was. Near the end of the day, though, you’d had a chance to help with an emergency surgery when a dog had swallowed a child’s sock. The dog was doing well, and you got go home with a feeling of accomplishment.
Sure, it would be better if Dean had been able to be there, but he was finishing a hunt with Sam, and you understood that he couldn’t always be there for you. Part time with your pie-loving Adonis was better than no time, and you would take what you could get. Besides, who else could boast that their boyfriend saved the world on a regular basis?
Your heart jumped when you pulled into your driveway and saw a certain black ’67 Chevy Impala. Just the sight of the black beauty got your motor running with inappropriate thoughts about its driver. Maybe this day would end perfectly, after all!
Jumping from your car, you ran along the side of your house to the back yard, following the sounds of Beckett barking, where you saw a sight that set your body racing. Dean was sitting on the steps of the deck wearing about half of a fireman’s uniform. The jacket and shirt were gone, leaving him bare-chested in the summer sun, only a pair of suspenders keeping your eyes from taking in all of his freckles. Your dog, Beckett, was running back and forth in the yard, racing to catch a tennis ball every time Dean threw it. Dean always grumped that he didn’t like dogs, and cats ranked right up there with some dick angel called Zachariah, but he got along famously with Beckett and took allergy pills so he could handle being around Charlie. He said it was a small price to pay for time with you.
Beckett bounded back to Dean, ball in mouth, happily giving it to Dean, who tossed it across the yard again. As he wound up for the throw, you watched the muscles in his shoulder and back play, bunching and stretching with the movement. His back was a work of art, the dips and planes mesmerizing to you. His shoulders were broad and powerful, his arms strong and well-muscled, and you started to get warm just thinking about how easily he could pick you up without breaking a sweat.
