Dean was reaching for the second flowered bandaid on his face when he heard footsteps to his right and looked to see you headed his way.
“Y/N,” he said, relief evident just in saying your name. “Maybe you can help me fill in the gaps here. What happened to the djinn? Could’ve sworn I had the son of a bitch and then it must’ve knocked me out.”
“The djinn? Were you guys playing doctor for monsters?”
“Playing doctor…? I’m sorry, what?” Dean asked. You stopped in front of him, reached out and ran your finger gently over the bandaid on his forehead with a smile. His skin felt electric where you’d touched it and he watched you with rapt attention.
“Seems like our firstborn is a natural caregiver, generous on the bandaids,” you said.
“Our firstborn?” Dean asked, eyebrows raised. You laughed softly, face drawn a bit in concern.
“About yea high,” you said, holding your hand to your hip. “Has your eyes. Looks at you like you’re her personal superhero. I believe you’ve met. Are you ok?”
Dean ran a hand over his still-flower-bandaged face, nodding absently.
“The djinn,” he said quietly.
He snapped his eyes back to you and noticed now that you had your hand on his forearm. His heart sped some at the small contact and he nodded at you. Not the real you, to be sure, but a version the djinn had created. And a version of you who was looking at Dean with an expression born from so much adoration and, at the moment, worry, that Dean forgot for a moment that he couldn’t stay with this version of you forever.
“I’m ok,” he said, fixing his eyes on yours. You slid your hand down to twine with his.
“You sure?” you asked. He nodded again and gave your hand a squeeze.
Imagine a Djinn Creating a World In Dean’s Mind In Which He’s Married To You With Kids