The Winchester Way
Characters: Dean x Reader (Y/N), Sam, Bobby (mentioned)
Summary: The reader has this ratty old sweatshirt that she always wears around the bunker and Dean thinks it would be funny to hide it from her. Little does he know that that sweatshirt is very special to Y/N and when she realizes it’s missing she is not very happy.
Word Count: 1658
Warnings: Language, minor anxiety attack // If any of this might trigger you please do not read!!!
“Come on Y/N it’s just a sweatshirt calm down.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want pop spilled all over it!” I half yelled at him out of frustration.
“Jeez chill out, just throw it in the wash or somethin’.” he murmured through a mouth full of burger. I loved the man, but that was one habit I’d wish he drop.
“Yeah whatever.” you sigh as you stand up from the bunkers kitchen table.
You loved this sweatshirt, you wore it to the point where the fabric was faded and it was filled with random holes. Some of which you cut yourself as little thumb holes. But that was a long time ago. If anyone outside the bunker had seen you in it they would have thought you were homeless, hell, you would have thought yourself homeless if it wasn’t for the roof over your head. The thing was this wasn’t just some sweatshirt you grabbed at an old store when it was cold. No, this was your mother’s. She gave it to you when you were 10 just 2 years before her and your dad were murdered by some demon. The same demon that would try and kill you on multiple occasions later in life, and would later burn down your house and force you to move in with Bobby Singer. The man that made you the hunter you are today. So yeah you would rather not spill pop over one of the few things you had left of your family.
“What is up with her and that sweatshirt man?” he grumbled to Sam who was casually researching. “I mean seriously the things a mess. Why not just get a new one already?”
“Dean, who knows? And since when do you care what her wardrobe is anyways?” Sam chuckled as he went back to his book
“Whatever” Dean stuttered, looking away. He was gonna get that sweatshirt and show her how ridiculous it was.
The next day
“Dean have you seen my sweatshirt?” you snarled at him as you scramble around the bunker.
“Not a chance sweetheart,” he muttered as he took a sip of his drink. “Why do you care it’s practically decaying in your hands.” he laughed.
“I just want to find it alright.”.
“Yeah, alright princess” he scoffed.
Not good, not good, not good. Where is it? You threw it in the wash yesterday and now it’s magically disappeared? “Saaaaaam!”
“Y/N, whats up?”
“I can’t find my sweatshirt” you grumble.
“ Sorry can’t help you there, I’ll let you know if I see it.”
“Yeah ok…”. This was not good, you loved that sweatshirt, you needed that sweatshirt. You felt tears swell up in your eyes as you walked away from the library. you couldn’t save your parents and now you can’t even keep track of a damn sweatshirt? You useless and pathetic scrap of a person, why do you even care so much, their dead, get over it you baby.
You’re now in your and Deans room and god you just hope they can’t hear you sobs through the pillow You’ve shoved your face in. You try and control your breathing but it’s no use. All you hear is your own damn voice, or worse, Deans, yelling “Get over it you fucking cry baby is just damn sweatshirt move on!” You just sob harder attempting to muffle the noise with the pillow.
You know what this is, it’s happened before, and your best bet is to wait it out. You have assumed you had anxiety before but had never bothered to mention it. Didnt need your cry baby ass getting in the way of things. You just sat them out the best that you could and then moved the hell on. That was the winchester way, wasn’t it?
I was just walking to one of the spare rooms in the bunker to grab Y/N’s sweatshirt from where I hid it. I thought that it had been pretty uneventful she asked me if I’d seen it then asked Sam, then just disappeared off somewhere. And then I heard it, crying. And not just the type of sniffling if you stub your toe, like full on sobbing.
“What the hell have I done.” I muttered to myself and a stopped and mine and Y/N’s door. I ran into our room only to see Y/N lying face down on the mattress, violent sobs shaking her entire body.
“Sweetheart… hey, hey, talk to me.” I said depressedly.
She just looked through me with glazed over eyes as a sat her up.
“Oh darlin’ what have I done?” I said mostly to myself.
“Is this about the sweatshirt?” she started to cry harder as her eyes closed and her body trembled more. She just nodded.
“No no, I hid it, I just hid, it I’m sorry, sweetheart please.” she just continued to sob as she slouched into my chest. Tremors shaking her body as she cried.
I didn’t want to leave her but I need to grab that damn sweatshirt.
“Baby I’ll be right back just try and breath for me” she took in a large shaky breath before looking down at the bed sheets and nodding again.
I ran just two doors down and grabbed it off the shelf I threw it on last night and darted back to our room.
“See Y/N its right here, I got it.” she grabbed the sweatshirt and clung to it like it was here life. I expected her to calm down but she only seemed to cry more.
“oh god, come here. I’m sorry.”
I held her close and stroked her hair as she started to calm down. The sweatshirt crumpled up in between us was wet with her tears. She took a few shaky breaths before lifting her head from my shoulder and looked at me with red puffy eyes.
I saw her cheeks heat up and then her body start to shift away from mine.
“Hey, hey, no don’t do that” I said tightening my grip around her torso. She seemed to shake a little with tears I could tell she was holding back.
“No, it’s alright, please can you talk to me.”
She looked down and started to shake slightly, I was about to tell her it was fine, when I heard her mutter something.
“It was my mom’s.”
Oh. well shit Dean you really screwed that one up didnt you.
“Sweetheart I-I had no idea im sorry.” I stuttered. Of course she was in love with that sweatshirt it was her moms for cryin’ out loud.
We lied in each other’s arms for a few more minute before she slowly sat up and wiped her eyes.
“You know I really didn’t know it meant that much to you” I said sympathetically
“Yeah I know.” she said it with a sigh as she looked back down and the rumpled sheets on the bed.
“Uhh, do you want anything to eat?” I ask cause this awkward silence is, well, awkward.
“Ok I’ll just grab some leftovers”
“Sounds good.” except she doesn’t Sound good. She sounds exhausted.
I left the room the grab whatever I could find in the kitchen. Hopefully we had some pie left I know she would love that.
I ended some leftover burgers, 2 slices of pie, and some root beer.
“God I’m not looking forward to this conversation.”
“Hey Y/N here ya go, eat.” I insisted. She took the food and sat at the edge of the bed just pushing it around on the plate. But in her defense I hadn’t eaten either.
“So are we gonna talk about this?” I began. I saw her shift under my gaze and
redirected my eyes to door, which was obviously a bad idea because she blurted out-
“I’m not just a cry baby.” I look right at her “Please don’t go.” she mumbled in the quietest voice I’d ever heard.
“I won’t leave I promise, but I wanna know what that was all about,”
Yeah sure Nothing.
“You know Sam’s not the only psychologist Y/N.”
“Hmm?” Jeez was she gonna make me say this right out.?
“I know that was an anxiety attack.” I saw her expression shift for shock, to shame, to what looked like downright fear,
“Why didn’t you tell me?” said in a voice slightly to demanding cause as soon as I said it I saw her flinch slightly.
“ I-I didn’t wanna seem weak.” she stammered tears welling up in her eyes.
“Baby, id never.. I, why would you think that?” I was so lost as to why she wouldn’t tell me something she knew, Something that was hurting her.
“It’s the Winchester way isn’t it? No weakness,” Did that seriously just come from her mouth? This-this is My fault?
“Y/N no- that’s, that’s, not right. You should have told me.” I couldn’t believe she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want to seem weak.
“Ho-how many?” I asked
“How many attacks have you had?” I practically whispered.
“I don’t know maybe 1 every few weeks. Not bad, I manage.” I couldn’t breath, Every few Weeks? God, how didn’t I notice.
“Come here” I got up from where I was sitting and pulled her into my chest, there she slumped down and sighed into my shoulder“you should have told me”
“ I know”
“And just FYI” I chuckled “The Winchester way is crap.”