Summary: Confrontation. Lots of it.
Pairing: Bucky x reader, Dean x reader
Warnings: Swearing, So much swearing. angst
Word Count: 1479
Hot boiling anger. It sets your skin on fire, pulls at your nerve endings. A curious tingle spreads over the surface of your skin, the tiny hairs raising with the force of it. You can’t contain it, can’t control it, it takes shape and morphs into Dean. Into Bucky. Familiar yet shapeless faces swim with it, a tide that ebbs, flows, turning into a tsunami threatening to wipe out everything that lays in its path. It steals your breath, constricting your lungs painfully. Years of regret, longing, abject horror and rage swirl into a single emotion so strong you cannot hope to repress it.
You stop in the middle of the hallway, ignoring the raised voices drifting from the communal area. Leaning against the wall, your head thunking against the concrete as you attempt to suck in air, you can’t afford to lose it now, you can’t afford to let it consume you. Sliding down the wall, your grip on reality slipping, you hug your knees to your chest, getting lost in the endless pit of emotion. The endless well of pain seems to be ever present nowadays. You let out a silent sob, and let yourself feel, feel for the first time in what seems like an eternity, digging your nails into the flesh of your knees as some sick sort of anchor, anything to drag you out of the dark.
You sigh heavily, raising your head and opening your eyes. Time to face the music. Scrubbing your hands over your face, you shove down every bit of feeling you have, lock down every emotion but one, putting them in a box which shakes and rattles in your mind like a box of angry bees.
You shuffle into an upright position, closing your eyes briefly, searching for the anger, your armor against further hurt, against further attack on your battered heart. You wipe your eyes and fix your hair, throwing your shoulders back, striding confidently toward the yelling in the lounge. Rounding the corner you take in the hell that is currently the living room.
Wanda is keeping her distance from an irate Dean whose dangerously close to Steve, jaw tight, ready to swing at any second. Steve to his credit is not rising to the bait, his hands raised in surrender as Sam tries to calm his brother.
“Who the fuck was that?” Dean yells. “And why the fuck is he acting like she’s property?” he adds as he shrugs Sam’s hand off his shoulder.
“C’mon Dean, enough,” Sam urges.
You can tell Steve is close to losing his patience. “Listen to your brother, pal. This isn’t going to end well for anybody otherwise,” Steve replies.
Fucking cavemen, you think harshly to yourself as you move forward, nodding slightly at Wanda who inclines her head in silent agreement.
She steps between Sam and Dean. “Let me show you to your room,” she says in her soft, accented voice. It seems to startle Sam who flounders for a moment before his eyes land on you.
His mouth snaps shut and he nods at her, letting go of Dean and following Wanda out of the room. He glances back once, eyes darting to you. Shaking his head, Sam walked away.
“Steve, go find Bucky,” you command softly.
He deflates, stepping away from Dean, who’s staring intently at you. “Ya sure, doll? I can hang around…,” he asks gently, his eyes soft, full of silent understanding.
You nod shortly, all your attention on the remaining Winchester. Steve grunts and leaves, and you take a fortifying breath, anchoring yourself to the anger like you need it to breathe.
“You’re gonna tell me what you want. No bullshit, no lies, Dean. Tell me and do it quickly before I throw your sorry ass outta here,” you hiss at him venomously.
His eyes widen marginally in shock. He takes a step toward you. “I came because I needed your help. And I need you,” he says simply. “I need you to come home,” he adds confidently, leaving no room for argument.
You let out a peal of laughter, devoid of humor, your body shaking with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me, Winchester? If you expect me to run back to Kansas with my tail between my legs, you have another thing coming, asshole!” you snap.
He snorts what he thinks of that. “You belong with us, and you know it. This…” he gestures at the living room, “is not you. It’s a band aid, a quick fix, something to hold you over until you have what you need. You’re a hunter, a warrior, Shadow, and you ain’t doing shit here, sweetheart, but wasting your gifts.”
“Fuck you, Winchester! You left me stranded in the middle of a field. Alone! Sam was dead as far as I knew. Cas was gone. All I had was you and you left me there for Lisa! You bailed! I am not going back with you!” you screamed. “You used me! I had only ever been with you, only loved you and you left. No explanation, no goodbye, no nothing! I searched for weeks, months until Bobby told me where you were.” Fighting back the tears you forge on. “So I drove all night. I found your perfect little house, with your perfect little family! Dean Winchester had left his fuck toy, his side piece, his whore for the real deal. I’m not going back to that!”
Dean’s face had drained of color during your monologue, his green eyes a striking contrast against the bloodless skin. “You were never, never any of that! You were everything to me! I only did what Sammy asked me to do,” he replies softly, gently like you might break into pieces, shatter at the slightest raise in his voice. “I love you.”
The ringing sound of flesh meeting flesh when you slap him swiftly across his face startles you both. Heavy breathing and a deafening silence fills the room.
His eyes are glossy, His heartache evident.
It’s no longer possible for you to feel bad for him. “You made me feel like nothing, Dean Winchester. You have no right to say that to me when you couldn’t even once tell your brother you and I were lovers. You have no right to look at me, to breathe the same air as I do, when you were so embarrassed by me you couldn’t even admit we were together. I want you gone. You and Sam. I want you to leave and never come back. Lose my number, Dean.”
He clenches his jaw. “We can’t. We need your help. Cas is in deep and we need you to help pull him out.”
Cas who you loved like family, the big dumb, too innocent for this world angel. “Fuck!” you scream throwing your hands in the air and turning around. Grabbing the first thing you can find, which happens to be a lamp, you hurl it at the wall. Breath ragged, the anger rolling off of you in hot waves.
It’s so typical. Such a Winchester thing. Break a heart, then come back seeking help.
You begin to laugh, a hysterical, maniacal sound that breaks Dean’s heart. He can see the madness fizzing underneath the surface, and it scares him, terrifies him to know he had a hand in pushing you this far. He had to help you, had to glue back the broken pieces of yourself back together. “Shadow.”
You turn back, eyeing him up and down. “I wanted you to fight for me like i kept fighting for you. Just once have you chase me, but you didn’t,” you intone softly, meeting his gaze. “I’ll help you find Cas, but then I want you gone. For good. Understood?”
He merely nods, and you grunt in acknowledgment, striding out of the room and leaving him alone, wishing with everything you had you couldn’t feel a damn thing. That your heart hadn’t jumped at his declaration of love. You needed space from him, from both him and Bucky. You had to survive them, survive this, for your own sanity.
As he watches you leave, he makes a silent promise to himself and you. This time around he would do it properly, give you what you deserved. “I was stupid, lost and broken back then when Sammy died, darling. I did what he asked because it was his last request. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell leaving you behind. But I’m through walking away from you. I’m gonna fight for you now, sweetheart. I need my Shadow back,” he whispers quietly to himself. He wasn’t going to stop until you saw sense, and if that meant laying a beat down on the metal armed menace, so be it. He was a Winchester, and they didn’t give up without raising a little hell.
Tags: Under the cut