Request: Lazy Day
Request: hey, before asking anything, let me tell you you’re probably my favorite fanfiction writer of ALL times. You always cheer me up with your writing and your stories, so thanks! I’m on the time of the month where life is ugly and where you’re emotionally unstable (I hate this) so I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is the youngest sister and has cramps and Sam and Dean try to confort her. It would be awesome if it had a lot of fluff. Sorry for being too specific, thanks, anyway xx.
Word Count: 854
I know exactly how you feel:( I’m sorry this took so long, it’s probably a little late now, but I guess it’s there for next time:) Thank you so much, and have an awesome day<33
It takes your brothers a few moments to figure out what’s wrong when, one morning, you shuffle into the kitchen with your duvet wrapped tightly around your body. You look greyish and exhausted, but what strikes them is that you’re obviously in pain.
“Y/N?” Sam sees it first, seeing as Dean’s back is turned making pancakes that smell equal parts amazing and sickening, “What’s wrong?”
Dean twists sharply, “Are you hurt? Did someone-?”
You shake your head, “No, no, just… girl stuff.”
It takes a second, but realisation dawns on their faces at the exact same moment and there’s a collective sigh of ohh from both of them. It makes you smile, even just a little, and you sit down at the table where a mug of hot coffee already waits for you.
“Are you okay?” Sam asks, “Do you need anything?”
“Don’t worry, I’m covered.” You don’t miss the look of relief that crosses their features – the odd time you’ve had to send them for feminine products always had you in stitches, thanks to their lack of experience with the subject.
Dean glances around the kitchen, before reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a pack of painkillers, which he tosses over, “You sure you don’t need anything?”
“I’m fine. Happens every month, remember?” You down a couple of pills with your coffee, shooting them a nonchalant smile as they grimace in sympathy – they’ve said, time and time again, that they’re infinitely grateful that they don’t have to deal with that as well as hunting and don’t know how you do.
“You want some snacks?” Sam asks, draining the last of his coffee and standing up, “I need to go on a supply run anyway, so…?”
“If you bring pretzels I’ll love you forever.”
“Pretzels, gotcha. And Ice-cream?” At your nod, he asks, “Pistachio or mint-choc-chip?”
“Both it is.” He smiles brightly, patting your head. Before you can thank him, he’s gone, and Dean takes his seat in front of you.
“TV’s yours if you want it.” He offers – the arguments you have about TV are the most sibling-y things you do and this offer… it seems too good to be true.
“What’s the catch?” You ask, narrowing your eyes. Dean holds up his hands in defence, laughing at your accusation.
“So I can watch Cake Boss without you taking the piss?” You ask, and Dean nods in concession. You grin, “You don’t have to pity me.”
“I don’t pity you. I just can’t be bothered with your whining right now.” He teases. You roll your eyes, picking up your mug and gathering the duvet around your shoulders.
“In that case, I’m out.”
You find an episode of Cake Boss and settle into the couch, duvet wrapped tightly around yourself. After a while, Dean slips into the room and takes a seat beside you, tucking his feet beneath your duvet. You glance at him, and he shrugs.
“The show isn’t that bad. Anyway, Sam’ll be back soon, and he’ll just sit here otherwise. And we had burritos last night, he’ll be windy.”
“Fair enough.” You laugh. You let the show play in silence for a few minutes, until Dean moves closer to you and holds out an arm, offering to let you lean into him. You narrow your eyes suspiciously.
“Dean, I’m twenty-eight, not thirteen. I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine, but you’re still my baby sister.”
“I’m not your baby anything. Quit fussing.” You insist, but you lean into him nonetheless – he’s warm, and he smells familiar and soothing. Sometimes, with all of the shit that goes down on a seemingly daily basis, you feel like the three of you are drifting apart and it scares you more than anything you’ve ever done or seen.
He smiles smugly, “You’ll always be the baby. Perks of being born last.”
“Screw off, Dean.” You nudge him in the ribs, but he only laughs in response. Before he can formulate a reply witty enough to appease you, Sam leans in the doorway, holding out a bag that appears to be brimming with junk food.
“You two look cosy.” He teases, before glancing at the TV, “And is that Cake Boss?”
“Not at all.” He grins, tossing over a packet of pretzels and a couple of assorted candy bags, “Happy?”
“Very. Thank you, Sammy.”
“Anytime. I brought some DVDs they had on sale, too – I figured you’d benefit from a lazy day.”
“I really don’t need you to fuss!” You insist – however, you’re not complaining, “Then again, I think we all need it. Come sit down.”
You spend the day watching films, eating junk food, (you end up ordering like five pizzas later that night, because none of you can agree what toppings to get) and, admittedly, falling asleep on each other. It brings back fond memories of your youth, before everything got hellishly complicated (no pun intended) and it was just the three of you for weeks at a time. Despite your brothers’ constant fussing, you find yourself appreciating the time you spend together more than anything else.