#i dont dance

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Imagine listening to I Don’t Dance by Lee Brice with Dean.

Requested By: smilekt02

Word Count: 923

Dean turned the knob on the Impala’s radio, desperately seeking a classic rock station or anything but country, stuck in the middle of the Western Pennsylvania woods. Giving up on the limited options, he left it on WLMI McKean and Elk Counties Home for Today’s Hot Country Hits. Letting his wrist slip over the steering wheel he watched the tree line wobble in and out littered with roads to oil wells and dead ends, hoping for signs of the werewolves.

It was the piano that drew him away from his concentration, a steady bum bum bum that was as catchy as a cold. Smiling, he thought of when you played the piano, nothing impressive but intoxicating none the less.

“I’ll never settle down, that’s what I always thought. I was that kind of man, just ask anyone.” He turned it up a little more, feeling drawn in by a strange sense of familiarity. Dean listened intently, finally making his way back to the blemish of a small town that housed the no tell motel he shared with you and Sammy.

Once the song was over he turned the car off and grabbed the room key from the CD visor you insisted on putting up. Slipping the plastic through the only piece of technology the place was equipped with he pushed the door open, ecstatic to find out you were the only occupant.

“Where’s Sam?” He asked.

“Went for a walk.” You didn’t look up from your laptop, just breathed a heavy sigh, blinked a few times, and rested your head back on your hand.

Dean took a seat at the table with you while punching keys on his phone. “What are you looking up?”

“News articles, nothing super exciting. There was someone at the bar down the road that claimed a woman took the deceased outside about 20 minutes before they found the body.” You shrugged your shoulders,“None of it is reliable, especially since the dead man was left outside the emergency room in some sort of compassionate act, and not left next to the dumpster at Syzmanski’s Bar.”

Feeling his phone vibrate, Dean picked it up quickly and responded back to the text message. “Who leaves a dead body at a hospital?”

“Someone who wants the mess cleaned up.” You looked over at Dean, his green eyes sparkling from the ugly wall lamps. It always amazed you how the rooms that the Winchester brothers chose were always so cosmetically unappealing.

“You want me to call for take out?” He interrupted. You could feel your cheeks grow flush praying to whoever was listening that he didn’t notice.

“If you can find a place that delivers that would be fantastic. I don’t know when Sammy will be back though.”

“Doesn’t matter, I can order for him and he can always reheat it.” You both looked at the dingy microwave in the corner and shrugged. You have all eaten from worse.

Within the half hour there was a knock on the door which Dean answered giving the man some cash and thanking him. “You going to take a break on all that research and eat or what?” He smirked.

“I’m done for now.” You joined him on one of the beds grabbing a pair of chopsticks and your package of pepper steak.

There was mindless chit chat and talk of theories, game plans, and past mistakes hunting werewolves. Once you finished eating Dean sat down in front of your laptop while you put away the left overs in the minifridge.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Just browsing your Spotify.”

“The classics will be under the ‘Dean Approved’ playlist.” You grabbed two beers and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Dean approved?” He raised his eyebrows.

“In case we ever got in this situation. Sam and I have relatively the same taste in music, you on the other hand, you just aren’t hip enough for the new stuff.” You stuck your tongue out jokingly.

“I am hurt, [y/n/n], you don’t think I’m hip? You don’t think I like some new stuff?” He joked back.

“Name one song or better yet show me one song that is new that you like Winchester.”

Dean’s fingers flew across the keys and a steady bum bum bum came through the speakers. He got up and pulled you into his arms. “I heard it earlier, thought of you.” He smiled putting his hands in yours, like you were at senior prom.

You laughed looking at his hands only to be caught slightly off guard by the lyrics. “I don’t dance, but here I am, spinning you around and around in circles…”

Looking up into Dean’s eyes wasn’t planned, it was like a magnet, drawing you in and locking you in place.

“Love’s never come my way, I’ve never been this far. Cause you took these two left feet and waltzed away with my heart”

“Dean..” You began to say only to be caught with a twirl and smirk.

“It ain’t my style, but I don’t care, I’d do anything with you anywhere”

He pulled you closer and locked his eyes on yours again.

“Yes, you got me in the palm of your hand, girl…”

“[Y/N], I think I love you..” Dean whispered.

“I think I love you too Dean…”

“Cause I don’t dance…”

He kissed your lips softly bringing you to your tip toes in sheer ecstasy. “And you said I didn’t like any newer music.” He chuckled.

“Shut up and kiss me Winchester…”