100 Ways To Say I Love You
Dean x Reader
#12. Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.
#80. Is your seat belt on?
A/N: Fic moved from my side blog @canyonic to my main one.
You didn’t want to talk to him, you really didn’t, and hoped that the crossed arms and set jaw would be enough to communicate this much.
Glancing at him as your feet scrunched the mat of multicolored leaves, it became evident that he had received the message, loud and clear. He wasn’t joking to break the tension, he wasn’t complaining, or doing anything that wasn’t walking quietly at your side, having probably made peace with the idea that you would be angry for a while.
When you sat in the car, your body language didn’t change, and the plan was to keep it this way, at least till you had found a good reason to make up and move on.
Only a few seconds had passed when Dean turned the key in the ignition and, even without looking his way, you knew, being familiar with his habits, especially the stupid ones. Would it kill him to put the damn thing on by his own initiative just once?
You tried to resist because he deserved the silent treatment for a few more hours, and you repeated this to yourself, once, twice, three times. Then you gave in.
“Is your seat belt on?”
“Oh, you’re talking to me? So soon?” He inquired with sarcasm.
Your eyes, previously busy looking at the leafless trees at the side of the road, were now turned to glare at him, as you reiterated, “Put it on.”
“No, thank you,” he replied, like a child that couldn’t let you win.
“Just do it.”
Dean put both hands on the steering wheel and looked in front of him, letting out a long sigh. “You don’t even wanna talk to me. Why d’you care?”
“You pissed me off, it doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just need a few hours to get over it. Now can you put it on?”
He gave you a quick glance while the sides of his lips slightly turned up, and he finally obliged.
The drive was long but silent, the only exception the stereo that sang Dean’s favorites on repeat, but more quietly than other days when you two had been in better moods and interested in singing along.
“Still mad?” Dean asked halfway through the drive, without looking your way.
“Yeah, I’ll let you know when I’m not.”
He gave you a nod and nothing else. If he sighed, you didn’t notice.
When you got to your destination, he stopped at the side of the road, the Impala’s engine warm and running, contrasting the temperature outside, that became known once you opened the car door, a chilly breeze making its way through the street and automatically making you move your arms closer to your body.
Then, before you could get out, Dean took off his jacket and handed it to you, “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”
“No, thank you.”
Having recognized the tone you had just used, he scoffed silently, and pushed the jacket into your hands, “Just take it. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
You listened to him this time and let the jacket hug your shoulders as you went out, providing warmth and surrounding you with a smell that was all Dean. You wished they would bottle this one, to have it around you all the times.
He was waiting for you to get inside the building, so he frowned when you slid back in the seat. “Forgot somethin’?”
You quickly kissed his cheek and gave him a smile, “Not angry anymore.”
Then you ran out of the car and into the building as Dean drove away, his smile matching yours.