Chick Flick Shit
Summary: When Dean’s giving you the silent treatment you force confrontation, which leads to a surprising turn of events.
Pairing/Characters: DeanxReader, Sam
Warning: Some angst, but some fluff too. One curse (the title).
Author’s Note: A little something that just sort of came to me. Here goes nothing… I don’t own the characters, credit to the ones who do.
Dean was mad. Pissed really. You’d never seen him so angry… at you…
At first you weren’t even sure why he was so furious. Did you say something you shouldn’t have? What would that’ve even been? Then, your fuzzy brain remembered the events of the previous night: your injury on the hunt. Still, why the hell would he be mad about that of all things? Oh right, you’d taken a hit that was meant for him because he was otherwise occupied… The knife would’ve gotten him in a deadly place if you hadn’t of taken it in the arm.
If only he could’ve just yelled at you, let you yell back, gotten the absurdity over with. But, no. He wouldn’t even look at you let alone speak to you. And then there was Sam, just tiptoeing around you both, clearly wanting to stay out of the whole thing.
For what seemed like the hundredth time that morning you looked up, catching Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He looked away immediately, a certain rigidity about him.
You huffed in agitation, staring daggers into the back of his head.
“Need some more pain meds, Y/N?” Sam offered kindly from the passenger seat. He turned around to glance at you and conceded with one look that he knew it wasn’t the pain. Well, the pain from the knife wound…
“No, thank you,” you replied as normally as you could manage, “I’m good. And I’ll be perfectly fine, back to normal really, in a few days.” You aimed a pointed look at the older Winchester, willing him to look at you. It didn’t work. His eyes remained on the road and he was so focused he hadn’t noticed the radio fizzling out.
After several, excruciatingly long hours in the car the three of you pulled into some motel in the middle nowhere. You were too frustrated to care where. When Dean immediately left ‘to go get pie’ you about threw something through the wall.
Before you knew what you were doing, you flew out the door he’d just closed and swung Baby’s passenger door open. Dean hadn’t even gotten in the car yet, he just stood, stunned by his door as yours slammed shut.
“Get in the damn car, Dean,” you hissed.
Reluctantly and slowly, he did so, not saying a word. But, he didn’t start the car.
“Are we going to get pie or not?”
His eyes flicked over to you for a moment, barely even a second, and then he started baby. Not a word was uttered between the two of you the entire ride. You were fuming because he was fuming, so the heavy, pissed silence fell over your stubborn selves.
“Apple?” You affirmed, knowing the answer to the question before you even asked, and jumped out of the car.
The order only took a few minutes, five at the most, and you even managed to feign pleasantness to the waitress. Then, maybe, it was the intoxicating smell of the perfectly baked apple pie, but you decided to attempt conversation, or confrontation rather. Anger still coursed through your veins, but you had to try… You couldn’t live the rest of your life like that, not when one of, if not the, most important person in your life hated you…
Slowly and as calmly as you could, you walked back to the car and gingerly got in. He took the pie, so you could close the door with your uninjured arm, and set it in the back.
“Dean, will you just talk to me?” You asked in a small voice. “Please…”
He looked away from you, sighing.
Another wave of infuriation washed over you. “For godsake. I am fine. How can you be mad at me?”
“Because you shouldn’t have done that,” he replied sharply, not moving his gaze back to you.
You inched closer in an attempt to make him face you, shooting back, “Shouldn’t have done what?”
He rolled his eyes and remained eerily silent.
“Dammit, Dean! Talk to me! What was I supposed to do?! Just, let you get stabbed?!” You wanted to scream, cry, slap him, do something, anything, to get all the frustration out.
“Yes! Jesus, Y/N, it could have been a lot worse! You were lucky!” His eyes finally turned to yours with a certain desperateness rampant in that dazzling green.
“You were lucky! I saw where that knife was headed!”
He scoffed. “Y/N, you-you can’t just do that! You didn’t know it wasn’t going to be just as bad for you!”
“Why?! I saved your life, how can you tell me that was wrong?!” Your hand ran through your hair absentmindedly as your mind ran a million miles a second. What could make him so mad that you’d do that for him? God, did he even know what it’d do to you if he died?
That thought stopped you cold, especially as Dean’s voice lowered into a weak murmur, cracking slightly, “Because, it wouldn’t matter, if saving mine cost yours…”
If he died, your heart would physically shatter… How could he not see you cared about him? Did he really think he was worth so little? “Dean,” you replied in a softer tone, “What are you saying?” You swallowed hard, refusing to believe it. He meant the world to you.
“How could I live with myself if you… you died protecting me? It’s hard enough as it is,” he answered quietly, barely above a whisper. Again, his eyes fell away as if working to conceal something, something that should’ve filled the silence that followed.
“How could I live with myself if I watched you die, especially when I could do something about it? Do you even know what you… dying, would do to me?” Tears burned in your eyes while you struggled to finish the sentence. Just the thought had your stomach turning and heart aching… And he wouldn’t really get it. Not fully. For god sake it was Dean you were talking about. He probably had no idea, but you couldn’t, wouldn’t imagine your life without him, even if the two of you were only friends. That was better than… You let out a ragged breath, face falling into your hands.
Gentle, calloused hands took yours, tenderly pulling your trembling fingers away from your face and wiping the pooling tears away. You didn’t look up at him, but he brushed the tears from your cheeks and pulled you into a tight embrace.
“Dean…” You began, unsure of where the sentence would take you, only for him to interrupt.
Dean’s normally deep and joking voice was rife with emotion, trembling slightly, just like you. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I have no right to be mad. I just… I just can’t lose you…”
You pulled back, to finally meet his eyes again, with confusion in yours. What did he mean by that? Then, as his green eyes stared back at you, a strange, unfamiliar hope rose in your heart… He looked at you as if he were working to memorize every detail, as if you alone existed in the entire world, and as if he yearned to do something but just couldn’t. Before you knew it, your lips connected with his. You didn’t know who leaned in first, only that his lips were the softest and the sweetest in the world. The universe even.
When he pulled away, lingering while still tenderly caressing your cheek, you whispered back, “I can’t lose you.”
He pressed his forehead against yours. It was only then that you realized how close he was. You were practically sitting in his lap and it felt so natural, so easy, like you’d been in that spot a million times, like you were meant to be there. “Then, we won’t lose each other,” Dean whispered with a mixture of everything one could possibly feel in his eyes.
He said it with such sincerity you almost believed it yourself. But, in your line of work how could anything be certain? “Dean-”
A kiss, more forceful and passionate than the last, replaced your rebuttal. Of course you found you didn’t mind that, especially as Dean slipped his tongue into your mouth. Dean was kissing you. Really kissing you. And you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t all a dream… Such heavenly feelings couldn’t be real, not when his touch left a buzzing in its wake, electrifying your whole body.
Your lips separated after what seemed like hours and, as you worked to catch your breath, he asserted, “Let’s just not think about that, okay? I doubt I could think about anything but your lips right now anyway.” His thumb trailed over the smooth skin of your lips, eyes slowly making their way from there to your eyes.
A shy smile crept across your face, blush rising with it. This was really happening. “Not even the pie that’s getting cold?” You joked, “Because, I think we’ve had enough chick flick-shit for one night…”
He smiled and bit his bottom lip flirtatiously. “I swear, you’re the perfect woman.”