Just Breathe- Series
Good evening everyone! here is the second chapter in the Just Breathe Series. This series was inspired/prompted by the ask that was submitted by @deans-spinster-witch to read the first chapter click here for the original post. @deans-spinster-witch was gracious enough to lend her skills in ruffing out a few of the mishaps in chapter one, and I will post that updated version at some point and link it, and did the same for this second chapter.
Here is the original ask for a refresher.
Ask from @deans-spinster-witch:
Tell me about Dean falling in love with a girl who has long covid - maybe they met when he saved her from a monster and they became friends, she occasionally helps him with research or patches him up if he gets hurt. He doesn’t hear from her for a while, and when he goes to check on her, he finds out she’s in the hospital with Covid - a monster he can’t save her from. He realizes he loves her, but may lose her. After she gets out he keeps coming to check on her because he knows she tires easily/has trouble breathing at times.
This second chapter is going to start with a bit of time jump, but don’t worry we got flashback a plenty to fill in the gaps. Multi POV between the main character, Y/N, and Dean Winchester, mentions of Sam Winchester. This is angst, sweet/fluffy, swearing, implied sexy times. Oh and word count is at 7,250-ish, sorry but not sorry.
Sadly the Winchesters are not mine, but the story is so please don’t steal and post as your own. But likes, reblog, and comments are always welcome. As always any mistakes like grammar, spelling, function is also all mine, so be kind when pointing it out, I do my best.
I would like to know if you like this chapter would you want to see a third chapter? or maybe a prequel to answer any questions you might have regarding Y/N and Dean? Let me know.
Thank you again for reading, and you would like to send me a prompted or story idea, send it my way.
Happy Reading
Time Jump to 4 months ahead.
Y/N POV
Shit, Shit, Shit! Where the hell are my keys! You yell out in frustration as you move frantically around your house, looking for the one thing that you need to get to your appointment on time. Tossing the pillows from the couch, goddamn it! You were never like this, ever since COVID, your short term memory has been foggy to put it nicely. Resorting to keeping both a paper list and digital one on your phone, is your new normal. Walking into a room to do something, and instantly forgetting what you came for. Case in point, not remembering where you put your goddamn keys!
You hate running late, you pride yourself on always being early to things, and this appointment was an important one. Walking into the kitchen, you start to look in the not so obvious places. Opening up the fridge, nope not in there. Pull open the freezer next, yep there they are, right next to the pint of mint chip ice cream that you just had to have yesterday at like 11 pm. Only to then be disappointed that you now can’t stand the taste of your once favorite ice cream, fuck you COVID!
Ugh, seriously, you are going to be the death of me, you think. Grabbing your keys, you push the freezer door closed, and head off to the hospital for your fourth month CT scan. Locking the door behind you, the crisp air of fall hits you. God how you don’t want winter to come any sooner then it has too. Winters in Michigan can be brutal, especially on the coast line. Pulling your light jacket close to you, you quicken your pace and get into your jeep to start up the car quickly, and pull out of the driveway. Not noticing the very familiar black impala parked about three houses down.
****
You make it with time to spare, as you wait in the waiting room after checking in, you try your best to calm yourself. Fiddling with your phone, you find that scrolling through Instagram is getting you nowhere and your emails have been radio silent for months now. Exhausted, you put your phone away, you look around the room. For mid morning it's not too busy, the daytime talkshow mixes in with the white noise of the hospital. It's so beige, beige carpet, walls, even the uncomfortable furniture is beige. It makes sense, given it's a hospital; money should be spent on actual patient care, not on the latest interior furnishings., But still, at least get some interesting artwork. Looking to the piece across from you: an abstract painting of paint strokes in grays, blues, and you guessed it, beige.
“Ms. Moore?” The nurse's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see her standing at the entryway in blue scrubs, dark brown hair pulled back, with a kind smile.
“Yep” you reply to her, but you're sure she would have guessed that was you, as your head snapped at attention when your name was called. “Hi”, giving her a smile as you walk towards her.
“Hi,” she replies, “can you tell me your last name and date of birth?” She starts walking down the hallway, looking at your chart, the path was second nature for her. You rattle off your last name and birthday for her, then she stops just off from an open doorway, “right in here.” Letting you walk in first.
She takes a seat at a desk, swiping her badge to start keying in some information. “So, here for your four month CT scan.” she states, but it also feels like a question.
“Umm, yeah, it's my second one.” You reply, still getting used to coming to the doctor more than twice a year. You only ever went if you were feeling really sick.
“Looks like the first one was clean, but we like to do a few in close succession when someone has had a severe case of covid.” she explains, her eyes are kind, and reassuring, “I am sure this one will be just as good, and then hopefully the doctor will schedule them farther apart.”
She must see the worry on your face. Not sure how to respond, you just nod your head. She takes your vitals, asks if anything else has changed since your last visit, and if there were any other concerns you wanted to discuss today. “No, I don’t think so.”
Typing a few more things in the computer, and then swapping her badge again to lock the computer. “I am surprised your brother is not here with you today.”
“What?” You're taken aback by this, brother, does she mean Dean? How would she know about him? Was it in your chart? You don’t remember adding him as your emergency contact.
She can tell you are put off by this. “Sorry, I should have re-introduced myself. I was your nurse when you were in here with covid.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, I should have…”
“No, it's fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”
Thinking back to that time, she does seem familiar now, “well it's nice to see you again…” struggling to remember her name quickly, but not inconspicuously looking at her badge, “Bridget.” This gets a laugh out of her, and you do the same. “I was happy to see your name on the schedule today, and I thought you were the one with the very cute, and very attentive brother. That's why I am surprised he is not here.”
Ah yes, Dean, not being here. That is a long, long story that you're sure she does not want, nor has the time to hear right now. You give her a forceful smile, “Yeah, Dean, he has something today, so just me.”
Her smart watch goes off, and she looks at the time, “well we should get you down to CT. After your scan, we will come back here and the doctor will be with you to go over the results.” She gets up, and you follow.
****
The wait feels like forever, and in the small exam room with nothing to look at but an exam table -and beige walls - you were lost in your head. Worrying about what if they found something, what if you developed lesions, or anything that could compromise your health. God, how you wish Dean was here, or even Sam. Someone to hold your hand and distract you from the impending doom and dark thoughts that were creeping in. Dean would distract you with lame jokes, or stories about how Sammy was terrified of doctors. He would get you to smile anyway he could, probably go so far and raid the supplies of tongue depressors and cotton balls, saying something like “they don’t need all of them, do they?”
“Ms. Moore, how are we today?” The doctor's voice breaks up your fleeting thoughts of Dean, as if he was right there, but as soon as the man in the white coat opens the door and steps through, Dean disappears.
“Umm, good, at least I hope so.” You reply, wanting to keep the pleasantries short, let get to the point so you can get out of here.
He takes a look over the file, and then pulls up the scans on the computer. He seems to be taking forever, did he not look at them beforehand! Come on man just tell me already! “Everything looks good, I am not seeing any growth of lesions or scar tissue from the tube.”
Relife floods your body, letting out a sight, “oh that great news, so I am done with coming in?” you hope so, wanting to never see this place again, at least for a while.
He turns to face you, his dark brown eyes are kind, but you can tell right away he is not going to give you the answer you want. “Not yet, but we can push them to every six months.”
Okay, twice a year, I guess that is a compromise you can take, “okay, so I will see you in the spring.” Starting to get up to leave, but he stops you.
“In two months, we can start doing six month visits. I want to see you again one more time in two months. If that scan is clean then we push them to six month visits.” He explains.
You sit back down in defeat, you're going to be back here in two months, really! You know you can’t take your frustration out on him, he is just looking out for your health and doesn’t want to miss anything. “Okay.” Slightly defeated, wanting nothing more than to curl up on the couch, and sleep for the next two months away.
Giving your hands a reassuring pat, “two months will fly by I promise. Is there anything else you want to discuss today? Still having some memory issues?”
You know that you should be honest with him, that you think you have gotten worse since Dean left, but honestly are you sure? He did so much for you in that short time, maybe, you were like this before, and he just didn’t point it out. Plus you just wanted to go home, what really could he do anyways? “Nothing new on that. I think I just need to get back to my normal routine and I will be fine.”
Getting up from his chair, “Sounds good. I will send Bridget back in, she will get you set up for your next appointment. We will see you in two months. Have a good day.” shutting the door behind him. You're back alone in that quiet room.
Alone, you're alone, once again. You can feel the panic start to creep in. Alone, and even though the scan was good, he still wants you to come back. Alone, no one to hold your hand, no one to make stupid jokes. You did this to yourself, you know that, he would have stayed, you pushed him…
“Alright, Doctor says two months humm.” Bridget's voice breaks through. It's light and airy. Trying to make the situation as pleasant as possible. As soon as she sits down, she can tell you're not alright, “Hey, what's wrong?” She asks, setting down the chart, and focusing on you.
Feeling a tear run down your cheek, fuck why are you crying. “Umm…it's nothing….yeah two months…” You take a ragged breath, pushing all your emotions down, down, down, to the deepest part of your soul where they should always live. You can cry when you get home. Suck it up for two more minutes!
“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on.” She is not letting you wash this away, she grabs the tissue box, and holds it out for you to pull a couple out of the box. “Your scan was clean, the doctor is just being cautious that's all.”
“I know it's just…I really wish he was here….”
“Dean,” she replies, filling in the blanks. You nod at this, and wipe your eyes and face. “I am sure if you talk to him, he will come to the next appointment.”
Oh if she only knew, but you couldn’t lay this all out on a complete stranger. Again she just wants to do her job, and move on to the next patient, you're taking up too much of her time. “I am sure you're right.” Taking a few ragged breaths.
She gives you a reassuring smile, and turns to the computer to book your appointment, reminding you that you can always change it to accommodate if Dean can’t make it this time. “I could tell he really cares for you. Even in the short time I saw him, he wouldn’t leave your side for anything. Practically had to kick him out every night when visiting hours were over.” Trying to make the situation light, and hopefully get a smile back on your face.
Giving her a short laugh, “yeah that sounds like Dean.” You can see it, him waiting until the last possible second. A security guard to escort him out.
Both of you get up, and she walks you to the door, and down the hall towards the exit. Seeing you coming back around, she decides to let you in on a little secret. Stopping you before opening up the door to the waiting room she leans in slightly. “Just between you and me, I knew he wasn’t your brother.”
“What….I mean…no he is….” You stammer out, hoping that she wasn’t going to bust you for…something, you're not sure? But still not wanting to get into trouble.
“Don’t worry dear, it's fine.” She quickly replies, trying to calm your fears.
You let out a sigh of relief, “How did you know?”
“Two things. One he just pulled on my heartstrings so much that I figured what would be the harm in him sticking around, even if he wasn’t related. Plus, if I was ever lucky enough to have a guy look at me the way he did to you, I would want him to be by my side every second.”
Her smile is contagious, and although you're still doubting that what you feel for Dean would ever be reciprocated, now is not the time to hash it out with her. “What was the second?”
“I may have heard him one night on the phone with someone, saying he couldn’t lose you, that he needed to tell you that he was in love with you.'' She says matter of factly, pushing the door open and waiting for you to walk through.
*******
Dean POV
He watches as she pulls into the driveway and shuts off the car. He had followed her from a safe distance from the hospital to the store, and then back to her house. She didn’t notice once, even though he had taught her in the past how to spot a tail. Did she get bad news? Maybe it's the COVID that is affecting her hunter instincts? Fuck, if thats the case, what else could she be missing? Is it stupid and desperate of him to be following her, and watching from a distance? Maybe, but also not, if she is not noticing simple things like him following her. What if Lucifer, or one of his henchmen, came after her? Anxiety just thinking of irrational attacks on you causes his chest to tighten as he pulls back into the parking spot a few houses down.
He should be a man and go up to you, talk to you, and see you face to face. He missed you, your smile, your laugh - fuck, everything about you. He knows he screwed up. As soon as he did what he did, he wished he could have taken it back, but the damage was done. He kept saying it was for the best, that you would forgive him, and move on. But you can’t forgive him unless he stops being a little stalker and owns up to what he did.
Flashback to the night of the big blowup. Dean POV
Standing there, staring down the closed door, you wish right now you had superpowers to see through the door and see if she’s alright. Hell, you don’t need to be a superhero to know she’s not. You're just wondering what brought this on. “Y/N, come on, talk to me” you plead, softly knocking on the door. “I am sorry…I don’t mean to…” your rambling stops when you hear soft sobs from the otherside of the door.
“Just go away Dean!” She yells between sobs. “I can’t breathe with you here… I can’t…”
You grab the door knob, fear and pressure weighing down on you to get to her, to hold her. Most importantly, to make her understand that your overbearing protectiveness is coming from a place of needing to be in control, that you care for her, and need to protect her “Y/N, please just open the door, let's talk? I promise I will ease up, I can do better.”
You can hear her give a small laugh at that, you're about to question her on this when your phone goes off. Screw it, let it go to voicemail, she is more important than anything else. “I am not giving up on you, on us. You have to come out eventually.”
Your phone stops ringing for a second and then starts back up again. What the Hell? “You should answer that, Dean.” She states without hesitation, but with an undertone of sadness.
Letting out a sigh, you turn around. “Fine if you want to talk via phone, fine.” Walking away from her door into the living room, you pick up your phone from the coffee table. To your surprise it's not her name across the screen, but Sam’s. “What?” you bark out in frustration, not really wanting to talk with him right now.
“Dean, back off.” Sam says matter of factly. No pleasantries, just straight to the point.
“She called you? Why?” Confused as to why she is including Sam on this.
“She just needs some space, Dean, I think it's time you come back. Jody called and…” Sam calmly says, trying his best to diffuse the situation from the other side of the country.
“No, Sam, I am not leaving her! I can’t lose her again, I won’t… I love her, man…”
Your back is to the hallway, so you don’t notice Y/N standing there, listening, hearing what you should be confessing to her and not your brother. You don’t see her wondering why can’t you just say what you feel? Why can’t you just let down your guard with her and tell her?
*****
The slamming of a trunk pulls Dean back to the present, and he looks up to see you carrying an arm load of groceries. Of course you would do it in one trip. He shakes his head, remembering that you never like to take more than one trip from the car to the house. Your logic always being, as you told him, I am a single girl, I can do it in one go. He watched as you held the screen door open with your butt, as you switched all the bags to one arm so you could open the door with the other. Looking away once you're inside, Dean notices it’s about 20 minutes since you pulled in the driveway. Had you been sitting there this whole time? You have only gone to the hospital and store, but still your energy must not be back to what it used to be.
Maybe he should check, make sure you're doing okay. Look in the window really quick. Getting out of the car and walking the short distance, he looks over to your car to see that you still had some toilet paper and paper towels in the back seat. Knowing that you would be back, he decides to help you out. Opening up the door as quietly as possible he grabs the items, and takes them up to the door. Putting them in between the screen door and main door, he turns around to leave.
His eyes look in the kitchen window, to see you putting away your items. Your back is to him, so you don’t notice. You seem lost in your own world, on auto pilot putting things away. Dean takes a moment to appreciate that he can see you up close. His eyes scan the room, noticing the post-it notes all over. He never remembers you having so many of them before. He can’t read what they say, but they are everywhere; on the cabinets, counter tops, table, Was your memory getting worse?
Panic, and anger - at himself more than anything - sets in.
*******
Y/N POV
“I love her Sam, I am in love with her…I can’t…no I won’t lose her, I need to tell her how I feel…”
“You don’t love me, Winchester” your voice stops Dean from rambling on the lies that you know, in the end, he doesn’t mean.
Dean turns to see you standing there, your eyes red from crying. But you're not crying now; no, now you look pissed, like you want to kick some ass - and Dean’s is the closest one. “Got to go Sam.” Dean quickly says, ending the call. “What do you mean I don’t love you. Of course I do, I….”
You hold up a hand, and stop Dean from saying anything more. “No, you don’t. People like me, we don’t have sexy knights to save us. To fall in love with us, to whisk us away, and want to play house with.” Determine to get this all out, to get your point across and make him accept reality.
“We are your best friend, the girl you call on Friday nights when your date falls through, or you strike out with the bartender. We are your ‘wing woman’, we pick you up, dust you off, and send you back out into the world. We build your confidence up, while we sit on the sidelines alone.”
“Y/N that's not true…” Dean starts to protest.
“Let me finish, I have to get this out.” taking a breath, you can see he’s hurt, that he wants to argue, to explain his side. “Yes, you care for me, but you don’t love me, and you're not In love with me. You're in love with this idea of a life outside of hunting, you love the idea of playing house.” Closing the gap between you, even though you know better than to get this close to him. You're playing with fire, but you're desperate to feel him.
“You're right, I am in love with the idea of an apple pie life. But I want that life with you, no one else.” Dean interjects before you can shut him down, shut down what is going on between you two before it can even start.
Taking a chance, he grabs your hand and brings it up to his chest and places it over his heart. “Can’t you feel my heart? It’s racing for you. It always has, it always will.”
Feeling the softness of the white t-shirt between your fingers, you take a breath and inhale the smell of him. “Sooner or later we both know this won’t be enough, that I won’t be enough.” You talk to his chest, not wanting or able to look him in the eye, your voice low and shaky. “You're going to leave me, sideline me, and only blow through town when you need something.”
“That's not true! You have always wanted your own life. I always wanted to protect you as much as I could. The things that Sam and I deal with, the people and monsters we hunt, if anything ever happens…you are a vulnerability that they will exploit. I know it.”
“Maybe. Even more reason why you have to go…and never come back…” Glancing up to see the gut punch you just delivered written on his face. You try to take a step back.
Dean won’t let you go, bringing a hand around your waist, holding you. “What?! No! I won’t cut you out of my life. I now know I was stupid for ever doing that. For letting you live alone, or at the very least, not in the same state as the bunker.” He practically commands, with no hesitation. How could you think he would ever agree to this?
“Y/N, I need you in my life. You can’t deny that there is something between us.” His words are sweet, his voice is low as he leans into you. His breath fans over your face, as his hands caress your cheek. “Please, I need you.”
His lips are so close to yours, that if you lean ever so slightly, you would finally know how soft his lips are. Would they fulfill your fantasies? God, maybe you should live in this fantasy for as long as you can, screw being logical. Let it be a future Y/N problem, present Y/N wants to know what it's like to be wanted by Dean Winchester. “I…Dean…”
*******
Y/N and Dean POV
“Dean, what are you doing here?” Your voice pulls him from the memory of that night, and he looks to see you standing at the door, one hand holding open the screen door.
Oh fuck, well, this wasn’t the plan at all. Giving her a smile, “Hey Y/N, I was in the neighborhood…thought I would…”
“So you're stalking me now?”
“Hehe, no, I said I was in the neighborhood, wanted to see how you are…you look good.” He says, letting his eyes look at you. You did look good, but tired, your eyes didn’t shine like they normally did before; the spark, the hint of twinkle is gone.
“Liar, I look like shit, but thanks.” You quip, knowing that you don’t look good at all. Wearing a ratty hoodie and jeans, you opted for comfort over trying to impress anyone. “Well, thanks for stopping by.” You say, giving him a fake smile and turning to walk back in the house.
“Umm…Y/N, I could, I mean Sam could use your help with something, he knew I was going to be passing through and wanted me to stop by and ask for some help.” Quickly thinking on his feet, he creates an excuse. He didn’t want to leave yet, this is the most he has talked to you since that night. He would be damned if he was going to let you leave so soon.
You turn back to look at Dean, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth or not. Sam had your number, and you were still speaking to the younger Winchester - he didn’t break your heart and live up to everything you knew would happen. “Why didn’t he call me?” You question, wanting to make Dean work for it. He wasn’t getting in that easy!
He takes a few steps towards you, “well, like I said, he knew I was in the area.” One step lower from you, his green eyes lock with yours, silently pleading with you to let him in. “He wanted me to pick up a lore book on Pixies, and said you had a copy that we don't have in the library.”
“Fine, come in. I will go grab it.” You reply, turning away from him, letting him catch the door before it slams in his face.
Dean shucks off his jacket and boots, and looks around while you go back to find the book. He can now see the post-its in detail, reminding you where your keys, jacket, bag should be put. Making his way to the kitchen, cabinets are labeled with what should be in them: dry food, dishes, silverware. Daily schedule on the fridge. “Having fun snooping?” Your sarcastic tone has him turning on his heels to see you standing in the doorway with a book in hand.
“Umm…sorry…” he says sheepishly, hating that he got caught. He can see you're not amused, and he is really going to have to lay on the charm to win you back.
“Yeah, well at least I am keeping the post-it company in business. Here is the book.” You say handing it to him.
Dean takes it, and looks at it, giving it a nod, “Thanks, yep this is it.”
“Okay, well, you better get going, since Sam is in ‘desperate’ need of it and all.” Your voice is flat, not in the mood to deal with him. “You know where the door is.” You add, just turning that knife even deeper.
“Look, Y/N can we talk?” Dean can tell you're not your usual self, and he really wants to get you back.
“Oh now you want to talk? You sure as hell didn’t want to talk for four months. Didn’t want to talk when you woke up the next morning regretting that kiss, regretting what we said to each other, the promises you made.” You snap at him, the frustration building in you. Why does it always have to be on his time? God you were just getting over him, right?
“I know. I was a jerk, it was a dick move, and I am sorry.”
“You're sorry, really?That's all you have to say?” Turning away from him, just looking at him and his sad puppy dog face, you want to smack him. Fuck, you want to hit yourself for being an idiot that night.
******
“Dean…please…I…” You have to keep strong, tell him to go, you know this won’t end well.
“Please Y/N, You're the only good thing I have in this world, I can’t lose you.” Not waiting for a reply, his lips find yours.
They're soft, perfect, molded to fit yours, and gentle, Dean doesn’t force his way. Pulling away, when your lungs start to burn,you lock eyes with him. Lust blown, his lips slightly pink. No words are exchanged, you silently say everything you need to him at that moment, and he seems to understand. Bringing his hands to cup your face, he goes back in to kiss you more, letting his tongue swipe across your lips. You allow his tongue to dance with yours.
Fumbling your way to the couch, Dean falls back first, and you do your best not to land on top of him completely, giggling at the state you're both in. Dean looks up at you, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, and looking up at you lovingly, “God, I love that laugh of yours.” He says, pulling you down on him. Letting you feel what you're doing to him.
“Dean, I have to be crushing you.” You protest, trying your best but failing at getting out of the vice grip Dean has on your hips.
“Nope, You're staying right here.” He says, as he starts to pepper kisses down your neck.
******
“Dean, I begged you to leave! I knew you never wanted me! And yet like an idiot, I fell for your charm and under your spell.” You grit out, turning on your heels and walking away from him. Fuck, you can’t keep doing this!
“I did ... .I do ...Y/N look at me” Dean pleads, setting the book down he follows you to the living room, grabbing your hand. “Please, let me explain.”
Turning around, you pull your hand back. His touch, like fire, like touching a hot pan. “You know, I thought for a split second you were telling me the truth. That you wanted me like I have always wanted you.” Pain radiates through you, your voice seems to be stuck behind a lump forming in your throat. God, you want to smack him, but at the same time, kiss him.
Dean’s speechless, trying to work out how best to tell you what he was thinking in that split second when he woke up in your arms that day. For one second he felt total bliss, that everything was falling into place; then reality of his life came back into focus.
“I know, it wasn’t my finest hour.”
You laugh at this, you think!? “What is there to explain? We kissed, had a pretty good makeout, groped each other over and under our clothes, but then we both agreed to take it slow. Right?” You ask for confirmation, even though you remember it all too well.
“Yes, but, Y/N, if you just let me…” Dean stumbles to explain.
“But then, I wake up the next morning alone on the couch with a note that says, ‘Hey, Y/N, Sorry, Sammy needs me, will check in soon.’”
The space between you two is nonexistent. You're trying to find anything in those green eyes of his that will refute anything you just said. Anything to explain that you're overreacting, but there is nothing. He has no rebuttal, because it's all true. He walked out on you, like his father did to him and Sam all the time. The worst part was, Dean had Sam to lean on; you were left with no one.
“Like I said, not my finest hour…” he mumbles out.
“Not your goddamn finest hour?ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” you yell, slamming your fists into his chest and pushing him away. It does nothing to move him, and takes all your energy out of you. You stumble a bit, then lean back and sit on the arm of the couch.
“Hey, Y/N, please, calm down.'' His voice is heavy with concern, and he tries to help you up so you can sit on the couch.
“Don’t…touch…me…” You cough out. Needing water, you look to find your water bottle is nowhere. “Fuck….I…” You keep coughing, and try to get up.
“Water?” Dean questions. You nod, and try to get back up. “No, sit, I will go get it.” He tells you and quickly goes to the kitchen, and is back with a glass of water in seconds.
You down about half, the cool water helps calm you and your coughing fits. “Thanks” you mumble, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he ‘saved you again.’ You don’t look at him as you sit down the glass and avoid him at all costs.
Dean takes this as his opportunity to tell you his side. Sitting on the coffee table so he has direct eye contact with you, he reaches for your hand. “Please, Y/N, I am truly sorry. I know I was a jerk for leaving you like that, and for never calling or coming back.”
You stare him down, not giving him an out on this one. “Go on. You will hear no objection from me on this one.” You reply.
Dean lets out a small sigh that clearly said fuck, alright here we go. “I was fucking scared, okay? I woke up, saw you in my arms, and for a split second I felt like I was home. My first thought was, this is perfection. No monster, no running the roads, crappy dinner food, and sketchy motels.”
He leans towards you, putting a hand on your knee, and lightly runs his hands up and gives you a knowing smile. “The perfect, sexy, beautiful, girl in my arms, that I can’t wait to wake up and…”
You stop his hand from getting too close to what both you and him want to touch. “Not so fast Winchester.” Knowing if he keeps going, you are definitely going to end up in a very compromising position. “No, I bet your first thought was, oh fuck what the hell did I do, and how the hell do I get out of it.”
“No, will you let me talk?. God, I see COVID can take your memory, but not your self-hatred or inability to butt in.”
You hold your hands up in a fake defense, “Please go on.” You quip back, leaning back into the couch.
Dean shakes his head, at least you’re sassing back, that is a good sign. “I got up, was going to start coffee for us, and while I was in the kitchen, Sam did call…
*******
“Hey Sammy,”
“How’s everything Dean, you kinda left me hanging? Did you and Y/N talk?” Sam asks, feeling like a schoolgirl catching up on the latest gossip between you too.
Dean takes a quick peek into the living room to make sure you're still asleep. “Yeah, everything is good. We talked and I think we are going to take things slow.” Dean explains, as he starts to make the coffee, he recounts most of the conversation between you two. Not all the details though, he wants to keep the really good stuff just for him.
Sam lets out a sigh, “That's good, I am happy for you both. But now I hate to ask.”
“What is it?”
“Look, I know you still want to take some time, until Y/N is fully healed, but Jody could really use your help. There is something in South Dakota that is running amuck, and she’s worried that Claire is going to try and tackle it herself.”
Oh Claire, how she reminds Dean of himself sometimes, headstrong and just ready to fight anything that wasn’t human. She is a good hunter, but she is young. “Umm…yeah…I am sure I can make something work….”
“Thanks Dean, I am sure it will only be a day or two, and then you can get back to Y/N. I will call Jody and tell her to expect you.” Sam says.
Saying their goodbyes, Dean hangs up the phone, and has to hold back from throwing it across the room in anger. Fuck! Not two seconds, and he’s already been pulled back into the madness. How is he going to explain this to her? She won’t believe him, she will be heartbroken again, think it's her fault, and say that she told him.
Seeing no other solution - or maybe it was that he didn’t want to wake you and see that pain in your eyes - he takes the cowardly way out.
*****
“So you went to help Jody, a friend of mine. And didn’t think I would understand?” You question him, after he explains the conversation between him and Sam.
“Yes…I guess I figure you would just see it as an excuse I came up with to leave you. Which it wasn’t, by the way.”
“But you said you would call, check in. But you didn’t! You couldn’t have been helping Jody this whole time? And even if you were, could you still have called!”
“I wanted to, but as I was driving away, I kept thinking about what you said, that you felt like an afterthought, that I blow through town whenever I need you. Take what I need and leave you with nothing.”
“So you figure, prove me right by ghosting me? Well, thanks Winchester, real fun.” You spit sarcastically, giving his knee a not-so-playful slap and getting up from the couch. “The door is still where you left it, you can see yourself out.” Fucking asshole. I need to get those locks changed tomorrow. You think, making your way to the kitchen to get some more water, to do anything but sit there and keep listening to him.
“Y/N, please. I am sorry, you're not an afterthought. The more that I kept driving, and the longer I pushed off calling you, it made it harder to call you. Because I knew as soon as I did I would lose you.”
“Funny, because the second you left, you lost me Dean. God, I woke up that morning and was devastated. Do you know how much I hate feeling like that?” Not needing him to answer, you lean up against the counter crossing your arms around yourself. Feeling the tears start to fall, you might as well go all the way.
“You know, I never wanted to be that girl, who cried over a guy, who refused to do anything but sleep on that goddamn couch for two months because it was the last place I felt safe, and whole, and seen. I could still smell you on the pillows and blanket.”
Taking a breath, you run your hands over your face. Taking another ragged breath, you work up the courage to tell him what you know he should know, but that you're scared to say out loud. “But the thing I hate the most, the one thing that makes me want to scream…is that I still love you.” You laugh at this. Its fucking absurd. Trying your best to stifle your laughter, but it keeps bubbling out of you in frustration and disbelief
Dean’s not sure how to react. On the one hand, you say that you still love him, but on the other hand your laughing like the fucking Joker. “Being in love with me is…funny?” he tentatively asks. Taking a few steps towards you, but not closing the distance.
Wiping the tears from your face, you admit quietly, “yes, because I know, no matter what, I will always let you back in. I guess I am just a masochist that way. I would rather have you in my life, and be heartbroken, than to not have you and still be heartbroken.”
Shaking your head, in disbelief that you actually said those words out loud, and to Dean no less. You look up to see him watching you, waiting. “God I am pathetic…you really should not have saved me that night…” you mumble the last part to yourself. Pushing yourself off the counter, you turn away from him, to straighten up the non-existent mess on the counter. Shit, should not have said that.
“GOD DAMN IT Y/N!” Dean’s yell booms, causing you to turn around to see Dean seething with rage. Taking the last few steps towards you, he pulls you into a vice grip of a hold. “Don’t you ever say that again, do you hear me? Do you?” He commands, shaking with hurt and pain.
He’s not angry at you, he's angry that you don’t understand how much you mean to him. That you hold your life as something subpar. Pulling away slightly, he lets go so he can hold your face in his hands. “Please don’t ever think or say that I shouldn’t have saved you that night.” His green eyes, glassy with tears about to be shed, bore into yours. “You are the only good thing in my life, and I know I have a lot of work to do to gain your trust back, and that my life is messy and chaotic, but please…please….don’t ever think I would regret saving you that night.”
You nod your head in response. “Okay” you whisper, “I promise.” You were taken aback by his outburst; Dean has never raised his voice to you, or looked this broken. Then again, you’ve never been this broken, or joked about that night before either. It was a topic that neither of you ever really discussed, more of an unspoken bond between you two.
Relief seems to wash over him. His hands fall from your face, his arms wrapping them around your waist, not wanting to leave the closeness of you. “I know I have a lot of work to do, and this may be pushing my luck. But can I kiss you?” Giving you a half smile, hoping that will seal the deal.
“Fuck, there’s that Winchester charm,” you joke, smirking as well. Screw it, it's been four months without those lips. You lean in and kiss him. Letting your lips dance with his for a bit, you pull back, “just as good and I remember.” you say cheekily.
“So, should we go make some new memories on that couch of yours?” Dean gives you a wink, walking backwards towards the living room, his arms still around yours.
You have no choice but to follow him, nodding. You know that you have a lot of work to do getting over your own insecurities and self doubt that Dean will get tired of you, or that he will regret being with you. You need to have faith in him, and in yourself, that you are worthy of a happy life with him; whatever that looks like.