Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!reader (established relationship)Β
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: After waiting-up for days, the boys return from a case. But somethingβs on Deanβs mind.Β
Warnings/tags: Mentions of cheating
Edit/re-write: 28 January 2025
Dean was quiet when he stepped into your shared bedroom. The door clicked shut behind him, barely more than a whisper against the heavy silence, boots shuffling across the cement floor before being toed off. He moved stiffly, like every muscle in his body was wound too tight, and when he finally lay down behind you, the mattress barely shifted under his weight.
Then, after a beat, his arm slipped around your waist. Not hesitantβpossessive. His grip tightened, pulling you against him until you could feel his breath, uneven and warm, against the nape of your neck. His lips brushed your cheek, rough and fleeting, before he let out a slow exhale and let his bicep rest on your hip. The heat of it burned through the fabric of your shirt.
He was hurt again. You knew it without looking. But you didnβt turn over.
You just lay there, still and silent, as Dean curled against your back.
When you woke up, the space beside you was cold.
Voices murmured down the hallβSamβs, mostly. You pushed the blankets aside and sat up, the weight of the day pressing down before your feet even touched the floor. Today. You were telling him today.
You hadnβt been sick, not really. At least not in the way Dean thought. But the nausea, the exhaustionβit had been enough for him to bench you from this hunt. Not that you ever needed protecting. But Sam had backed him up, saying if you werenβt at your best, you should take some time off.
Deanβs arm had been warm last night because of the gash. You found him in the kitchen, sitting at the table while you cleaned and wrapped it. His eyes stayed on you, but he didnβt say a word.
βYou know I donβt think Iβm contagious,β you muttered, a playful smirk on your lips while you tied off the gauze.
A breath of laughter, low and humourless.Β
βI know, sweetheart. Just canβt be too carefulβ¦β He pulled you toward him, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead. His arms wrapped around you, solid and familiar, pulling you into the warmth of him.
You let yourself sink into it, just for a second.
Then you pulled back, standing on your toes to kiss him properly. His lips quirked into a smile against yours.
βItβs cute how short you are.β
βShut up.β You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself.
His expression softened, and something passed through his eyes too fast for you to even clock what it might have been. βYou know I love you, right?β
Something in your chest tightened. βYeah,β you said, watching the way his eyes flickered to Sam, then away. He sighed, nodded once, and walked out.
You found him in the library later that afternoon, leaning over a book and absentmindedly pawing at the bandage on his arm. He looked up when you said his name, and for a second, you thought about leaving. Turning and walking away, pretending you didnβt see the way his shoulders tensed up, the way his fingers flexed against the pages like they needed something to hold onto.
βI- need to tell you something.β
Your voice barely carried across the space. Dean straightened, stepping closer, his hands catching yours. The callouses on his fingers brushed against your skin, and for a moment, all the nerves melted away. The news you carriedβthe thing you were going to tell himβflickered in your mind, and warmth spread through you.
βIβme too. Butβ¦β His hands twitched, then pulled away. His thumb caught your chin, tilting your face up to his. His green eyes held something new. Something unfamiliar.
βI think I should go first.β
βOkay.β You perched on the edge of the table, trying to ignore the sharp edge of dread pressing against your ribs.
Dean exhaled through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. βY/n- uh. Something happened.β
Silence stretched thin between you.
Your fingers curled into fists in your lap. βWhat do you mean, βsomething happenedβ?β
βIt was a stupid mistake,β he said. His lips pressed into a tight line and your pulse pounded in your ears.
His mouth opened, then shut. He took a step back, like he couldnβt stand being this close to you. βThereβthere was this girl.β He swallowed. βA bar, then a girl, andββ
The words cracked as they left your mouth. But the worst part wasnβt the confessionβit was the way his face fell. The way his silence confirmed everything.
A hollow laugh broke from your throat, sharp and bitter.Β
βDean, are you telling me-β You shook your head, blinking fast as your vision blurred and your breaths came in shallower and shallower.Β
You looked up, eyes burning. And he let out a heavy sigh.
The words landed like a punch.
You could see it in his faceβthe pain, the regret, the shame twisting behind his eyes. But it didnβt matter.
You spun, walking away, but you only made it three steps before his fingers closed tightly around your wrist.
Your hand moved before you could stop it. A sharp crack split the air as your palm met his cheek.Β
Footsteps. Sam, standing at the end of the table. He had heard. Of course he had.
Your chest heaved. Deanβs hand hovered over the red mark blooming on his face, his eyes glassy, but he didnβt meet your gaze.
βIβm-β You almost choked on the words.
βI donβt know where Iβm going. But I canβt look at you right now, Dean.β
Your voice was steady, but your hands were shaking as you yanked your wrist free and walked past Sam, away from Dean, past the remnants of everything you thought you had.
Dean finally lifted his gaze to his brother, who wore a similar expression of hurt, and he slowly sat at the table, dropping his head to his hands.Β
You had managed to collect your few belongings and exit the bunker without so much as a glance in Deanβs direction, the rumble of your car growing fainter and fainter as it went up the drive.
It felt like hours before Sam even tried to break the silence.
He lingered nearby, arms crossed, shifting his weight like he wanted to say something but couldnβt. Eventually, he stepped forward and set something on the table. Dean didnβt look up until he heard the soft clink of metal against wood.
The one you handed back to his brother.
Dean reached and curled his fingers around the cord, his thumb tracing the worn edges of the charm. His throat was too tight, his chest too hollow. He exhaled, long and shaky.
βSam, I know.β His voice was hoarse. βI screwed up.β
Dean closed his eyes, tilting his head back.
βShe trusted me.β He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. βAnd I screwed it up. And nowβ¦β His fingers curled tighter around the necklace.
The words barely made it past his lips. His grip on the charm trembled. He brought it to his mouth, let it rest against his lips, and let the first tear fall.
βSheβs gone, Sammy.β
A/N: aaaaaaaa the angst is scrumptious is it not? Keep reading below!
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