Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your boss had been a huge jerk all day long. He yelled at everyone at once during the morning meeting and at each of you individually throughout the day. He made his receptionist cry. And two interns had quit.

You were his senior assistant so everyone looked to you to do something about it. You were steamed, his behavior was unacceptable and he had no right to treat you or your coworkers that way. You steeled your spine and knocked on his door.

It was barely after hours and you happened to know he usually stayed at least three hours after everyone else left. He had screamed this fact at all of you during your meeting. So it was strange when he didn't answer your knock.

You called his name. "Mr. Winchester? It's Y/N. Are you in?" You rapped on the door again. You thought you heard something but you weren't sure. You pressed your ear to the door.

There, the sound again. Someone was in there and they were crying. Maybe his receptionist again. Trying the knob you found it was unlocked. You entered the darkened room slowly, not seeing anyone.

Clicking on the light, you saw the tiniest edge of a shiny black high-end shoe, peeking from behind your boss' giant desk. You had an urge to crawl to whoever was crying behind the desk and you went with it. You peeked around the edge and, to your shock, you saw him. Your boss. Dean "the man-eater" Winchester. He was curled in a little ball, hugging his knees. His tear-filled eyes were wide as he looked at you, tears streaked over his cheeks. And his thumb was in his mouth.

You had no idea what was wrong with him but you were very good at reading people. He was obviously terrified.

"Hey... It's okay. You know me, I'm Y/N. I'm a nice person, right?" He nodded but didn't let go of his thumb or his knees.

"You wanna tell me what's going on?" You asked, very gently. He shook his head and shrunk back further under his desk.

"Okay. It's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Can you tell me what you need right now?"

"Juith." He lisped around his thumb.

"You want juice?" He nodded. You spotted a mini fridge in one corner and you went over to it. Behind some beers and power drinks you found a few boxes of apple juice. You put a straw in one and brought it back to him. He took his thumb out of his mouth and reached for the juice. He began drinking and his wide eyes stayed glued to you the whole time. You sat still and waited for him. To finish his drink, to say something more. Anything he needed, you just waited.

Finally finished, he handed you the empty carton. "Better?" You asked. He nodded. "Do you feel like talking now?" He nodded again.

"Okay. I'm listening." You stayed still and waited for him to begin.

"You mad at me..." he said in a whisper, followed immediately by him bursting into tears, thumb going straight back into his mouth.

You couldn't help it, against your better judgement you reached out to touch him. You stroked his hair. He was your boss and he was also vulnerable and terrified, both reasons you definitely should not be touching him. But you had to, it was instinct.

You were so relieved when you didn't make it worse. On the contrary, your gentle touch seemed to calm him.

"Why would I be mad at you?" You knew why, of course. He had been a huge jerk all day long. But you weren't sure if he remembered that, and you didn't want to scare him.

"Wath mean. I yell." He mumbled around his thumb.

"Oh, Honey... Everybody yells sometimes." You said gently.

"Not you..." He said, almost too quietly to hear.

You nodded. "Even me. I don't usually but if someone hurts someone I care about, I can yell really loud. But you know what I do if I'm ever mean?" He looked at you, eyes big as saucers and shook his head slowly. "I say I'm sorry. Sometimes I give hugs. I promise to try better next time and then I do, I try really hard to do better."

He blinked slowly once and then opened his arms wide. You acted on instinct again, gathering him into your embrace. He ended up half-leaning on your lap while you sat cross-legged. It could have been a little awkward if it weren't for his energy, so innocent and scared and overwhelming. You just wanted to take care of him.

"I sowwy." He whispered against your shoulder. You held him tighter.

"I know you are, Sweet Boy. And I forgive you." You kissed the side of his head and a devastating thought occurred to you- "Sweetie, can you get yourself home?"

You felt him shake his head and your heart broke a little. "Is that why you always stay so late?" He nodded and you squeezed him protectively to you.

"Can I give you a ride home?" You whispered to him. He nodded. You held him for another minute before getting both of you to your feet, holding his hand and walking patiently with him to your car.

You helped him get into the seat and buckled and you drove to his place. He held the office Christmas party at his place every year, so you knew where he lived. His house was huge and his patio expansive, with a pergola, a barbecue, a seating area, a pool and a hot tub.

But he took your hand and guided you past all that, into a back door and carefully up the stairs to the second floor. There was a heavy door at the top of the stairs and a keypad with a fingerprint lock. He reached for it but paused, looking at you, scared.

This was obviously his inner sanctum, his bat-cave. You felt awkward, standing here so close to his guarded, personal space. "Do you want me to leave?" You asked. He thought for a minute and shook his head. He pressed his finger to the pad and the door opened. You weren't sure what you were expecting but inside was a normal suite, a small living area, a kitchenette and a door that you figured led to the bathroom and bedroom. The only thing that may have been considered strange is the Batman posters covering the walls and the huge collection of kid's Blu Ray movies next to the TV.

He walked inside and dropped your hand, both of you standing awkwardly, staring at each other. He brought his thumb back to his mouth.

"Are you hungry?" He nodded. You went over to the kitchenette and looked in the fridge. "Do you want some mac and cheese?" His eyes twinkled and he nodded. You smiled. "Go sit on the couch and I'll bring you some when it's done, okay?"

"Okay." He said softly. He went to the couch and sat, grabbing what looked like a very soft blue blanket with a satiny edge. He sucked his thumb and ran the satin over his cheek.

You cooked the mac and cheese quickly and brought a small bowl over to him, along with another juice box. You had diced an onion and a few hot dogs, cooked them until the onions were clear and soft, and added them to the noodles and powdered cheese mix, along with a good portion of Parmesan and a little garlic. The whole suite smelled yummy.

He drank his juice and you fed him bites of the macaroni. By the time the noodles and juice were all gone his eyes were starting to droop. It was getting really late. "Bed time?" You asked gently. He nodded. "Would you like some help?" He rubbed his eye with the fist clutching his blanket and nodded again.

You led him to the bedroom and helped him take off his suit, shoes and socks. When he was in an undershirt and boxers you took him to the bathroom. He went potty while you put some Bubblefruit toothpaste on a Batman toothbrush. He washed his hands and face and you gave him the brush. He cleaned his teeth while you turned down his Batman sheets. He came out and looked at you shyly.

"Everything okay?"

"Jammies..." He whispered.

"Oh, of course! How silly of me. Where are they?" He opened his dresser drawer and you got out some Batman sleep pants and a Batman t-shirt. "Do you want help?" He nodded.

You helped him out of his undershirt and boxers and into his jammies. A part of you was worried it would be uncomfortable, seeing your boss naked. But he wasn't your boss right then. He was a little boy that just wanted to be taken care of. When he was dressed you held the covers up and he slipped into bed. You gave him his blanket and he snuggled it.

You stroked his hair softly, and you were unsure again. Since he obviously knew what he wanted and needed from you, you just asked him. "Do you want me to go?"

He shook his head decisively. "Snuggles." You smiled softly at him.

"You got it, Sweet Boy." You slipped off your shoes, slacks and jacket and cuddled up under the covers behind him, holding him close. He turned so his head was resting on your chest, his ear pressed over your heart, arms tight around you. You put your arms around him and ran your fingers through his hair. Before too long you felt his breathing change, it came slow and deep and you knew he was sleeping.

Sleep didn't come quite so quickly to you. Your mind raced. Would he be angry with you in the morning? Would he pretend none of this had ever happened? And what if he wanted you to keep taking care of him? Would you be able to do a good job? What if you said or did something wrong? What if you accidentally scared him or damaged his trust? What if you misunderstood something and offended him? What if you didn't take care of him right and he got hurt or sick?

You felt your anxiety amp up and tears prickled your eyes. You barely knew this side of him and already you had no doubt you would do anything for him. He trusted you. He needed you.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, holding him tighter. Whatever happened tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that... Right now he needed snuggles... And so did you.

You fell asleep giving him all the snuggles you had.

Chapter Text

"No." Dean crossed his arms and legs and frowned. He was sitting on his bed still in his jammies, hair adorably messy.

You sighed. "We talked about this when you were big, remember? You asked me to make sure you got into your big space and got to work on time. I promised you I would. Please stand up."

"No!" He yelled.

You had been taking care of him for a couple of months now. Everything was still a little new and you were both still working out the details, but your dynamic ran more smoothly every day. All except for the mornings.

Dean was not a morning person. It had been a struggle to get him to accept an earlier bedtime, but even with the extra sleep he still had trouble getting going in the mornings. Ironically, if he were willing to cooperate he could have slept an extra half hour. But he was stubborn.

You touched his cheek gently and he looked at your eyes. "Is it okay to yell at me?"

His frown turned into more of a pout. "No."

"What should you say to me?"

"I sorry." He looked down.

"Thank you. I forgive you, Sweet Boy." You kissed his head and gave him a cuddle for a minute, hugging his ear gently to your chest. He liked this, you knew. Your heartbeat soothed him. "Now... You need to get up, but you get to choose. You can get up right now... or in two minutes."

He looked up at you with those wide green eyes. You smiled at him, he was so sweet. He smiled back at you. "I choose two minutes." You nodded and set the timer on your phone, giving him so many snuggles for two whole minutes.

The alarm sounded and he reluctantly stood up, knowing that's what he agreed to. You were on the short side and he towered over you. The two of you had discovered the most efficient way to get him back into big space was to spend a few minutes with him being physically big and you being physically small. It worked the other way too. When he was having trouble letting go you sat up tall and he laid his head in your lap, looking up at you, so big above him. But right now he needed to be big.

After a few minutes you knew he was back in his big space. His shoulders tightened just a little, his soft, sweet eyes went slightly hard and shrewd. He wrapped his strong arms around you and kissed your head. "Thanks, Y/N." He said into your hair.

You were so happy he was no longer apologetic. For weeks every time he would go back into big space he would apologize profusely. The morning after the first time when you found him little under his desk he had apologized over and over and also sent you a fruit basket. You were firm but gentle with him, assuring him endlessly that he had nothing to apologize for. Eventually he came to understand what you were saying, you needed his little as much as he needed you.

You smiled adoringly up at him. "You're very welcome."

It had only taken a couple of weeks before you figured out your relationship would work much better without the commute to and from your apartment. So you moved in. Mostly you took care of him in his suite, but you also had your own bedroom on the lower level for when he wanted to be big.

You both got ready and headed in to the office. Ever since you started caring for his little self his big self had been worlds better. Calm, patient, tactful. He had apologized to his staff and provided coffee for everyone for a whole month.

It broke your heart when he told you he'd never had a caregiver. He had been dealing with everything all alone. He had been forced to be so strong for such a long time it just caught up with him one day and that's when he had yelled at everyone.

This morning the meeting was about numbers not being where they should be. He was firm but gentle. Some strategies he used with his under-achieving employees you recognized as tactics you used when he was little and not cooperating. One guy was just plain choosing not to do his work.

"You can do it now or after you're let go. It's entirely your choice." Dean said. You stifled a smile and he winked at you.

That night you were both on edge and exhausted and he drove home. You had put a roast and vegetables in the crock pot before work and you entered the suite to delicious smells of dinner. He kissed your head and went to take a shower and get into pajamas and you made a salad.

You both sat at the tiny table at the kitchenette and ate dinner, chatting lightly about work. When you were done you showered while he brushed his teeth and washed his face. You changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt.

You came out expecting to have to hold him in your lap for a while so he could let go and find his little space, he was wound so tight. But one look at his wide green eyes, blanky in his fist and thumb in his mouth and you knew he had found it on his own.

Then you noticed his tears. You sat on the bed and reached for him. He climbed half into your lap and you snuggled him tight. He buried his face in your chest and cried harder. His tears made you sad, but you knew sometimes he just needed the release.

You never, ever shushed him.

You kissed his head and whispered, "I'm here, Sweet Boy. I'm right here."

You held him close until you both fell fast asleep.

Chapter Text

It was Saturday morning. You loved the weekend because Dean got to stay little for two full days in a row. He had eaten his breakfast and watched a Batman cartoon and now he was sitting on the floor playing with his Batman Legos.

"Five minutes until it's time to clean up and get dressed, Sweet Boy." You called from the kitchen. You were finishing up the breakfast dishes and whipping up a marinade for some chicken you were going to cook for dinner. You glanced over at him. He hadn't answered you. You cleaned and dried your hands and went over to him.

"Dean... Did you hear me?" He was ignoring you. It was the one thing you hated, being ignored. You hated it even more than when he yelled at you. You had to close your eyes and take a breath so you wouldn't overreact.

"Dean Winchester, you look at me this instant." You said as calmly as you possibly could. You used your words instead of touching his face or hair because you never, ever wanted to touch him when you were frustrated or angry with him.

His open gaze flicked up to you when he heard his full name and he winced, knowing he was in trouble.

"Did you hear what I said?"

He nodded hesitantly. "You say five minutes. Wanna play." He pouted a little.

You crouched so you were at his level. "I know you want to keep playing, but that's not a reason to ignore me. Is it?" He shook his head slowly, looking at you shyly.

"I sowwy, Y/N."

"I know you're sorry, but it's against our rules to ignore me. You broke a rule. You know what happens now?"

He nodded. "I go time-out." He pouted a little.

"That's right. Please go now."

He went over to a bar stool sitting in a corner of the room, trying very very hard not to stomp, since that would earn him an extra two minutes. He sat on the stool and pouted some more.

You went to him and set the alarm on your phone. "Five minutes for ignoring me. I want you to think about what you're going to do differently next time you feel like ignoring me." You made sure he knew why he was in time-out. He nodded. You set your phone on top of the Blu Ray rack and finished getting the chicken marinating.

You came back in just before the alarm rang and you saw him, forearms resting on his lap, pouting and staring at his hands. Your phone sounded and you turned it off, standing just in front of him. You stroked his cheeks softly until he looked at you.

"Did you think about what I said?"

He nodded. "Next time I talk."

"You'll talk to me, tell me how you're feeling?" He nodded, deep green eyes on yours. You smiled. "That's a very good plan."

"I sowwy, Y/N." You gave him a big hug.

"Thank you, my Sweet Boy. I forgive you. And I love you." You kissed him all over his face until he giggled. You grinned at him, his joy infectious. He hoped down, knowing kisses signaled the end of his time-out ritual.

"Okay, time to clean up your toys and let's get you dressed."

You could see him struggle with his frustration but he remembered his strategy just in time. "Why dress? Be big?"

"No, Sweet Boy. I want to have some fresh bread with dinner, so I thought we could walk down to the bakery together." You had been planning this outing for a few weeks. It would be your first time out in public with him being little. You had gone on message boards and websites and asked about a hundred questions and you hoped you were prepared.

The bakery you found was two blocks away and the walk was a quiet, semi-secluded one. You packed his juice and blanky in your purse. You thought it was important he be able to be little sometimes outside of his suite. You didn't think it was something he should have to hide, and you really didn't want him to feel ashamed of that side of himself.

At the mention of the bakery his eyes lit up. "Cookies?"

You smiled. "We'll see what they have."

He cleaned up his toys and went potty. He brushed his teeth and he let you help him get dressed in jeans and a plain t-shirt. He sat on the bed and you put his socks and shoes on him. As soon as they were tied he jumped up and ran for the door.

"Not so fast, Mister!" You smiled at his eagerness and brought him his jacket. "You need your jacket, it's a little chilly. And we need to remember our rules." You had established some rules with him when he was big and you were talking about outings.

He let you put his jacket on him and button it up. "Hold hands. No run. Listen." You grinned at him. "That's exactly right. And what about the most important rule?" You caressed his face as he thought about it.

"Talk." He said, finally remembering.

"That's right. You need to tell me if anything is wrong or scary or if you just want to go home. Right?" You looked into his eyes. He nodded.

"Cookie now." He grabbed your hand and nearly dragged you out of the house. You laughed at how adorable he was.

The walk was uneventful. No one gave you a second glance and he obeyed all his rules. You got a loaf of yummy-smelling bread from the bakery and you let him pick out TWO cookies, one for the walk home and one for after dinner. You got a couple of muffins for tomorrow's breakfast and you walked home, he held your hand and nibbled his cookie the whole way back.

You made sandwiches for lunch and you snuggled him on the couch, reading him a Batman story until he fell asleep for his nap. You knew you should be cleaning the lunch dishes and doing laundry, but all you wanted to do was hold him. So you did.

You watched his sleeping face, totally relaxed and so at peace. You felt his breathing, slow and deep. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and scattered kisses on his head.

You held him close and just let yourself feel your love for him. It was powerful. You loved him so much it felt as if your body could barely contain the emotion. You imagined it washing over you and pouring freely into him. There were times it felt so intense it was almost intoxicating.

You treasured every second with him, and prayed he would never let you go.

Chapter Text

Dean had been casually mentioning this upcoming phone call every chance he got for about a week. You knew him well enough to know, in reality, he was absolutely dreading it. The call was with a very important client who apparently played hard ball well. This guy rivaled Dean's own "man-eater" reputation.

So when time came for the call you hovered outside Dean's office, feeling nervous and protective. The client was on speaker and you were very close to the office door so you could hear everything. This guy was absolutely brutal. He attacked Dean but made it seem acceptable by using quips and jibes and pretending everything was a joke.

Whenever he would say something that got a reaction from Dean he would focus on the subject and intensify his joking. Soon all guises of propriety were in his rearview. He was joking about acting inappropriately with his receptionist against her will. And then he made a joke about Dean's mom.

You glanced in the window of his door and you saw his eyes go soft and tear up. Game over. This guy just poked the mama bear.

You burst into his office and grabbed the phone, cutting the client off mid-'yo-mama' joke. You put one hand out to Dean and he grabbed your arm, snuggling his face against you, soaking your sleeve with his quiet tears.

Your voice was icy calm when you addressed the client, you felt like screaming at him but you didn't want to scare Dean. It was all good. Quiet threats made more of an impact anyway. "You listen to me, you little weasel. I've memorized every disgusting word you've said and I will be writing a report, in triplicate, to your CEO, your head of HR and your poor receptionist. Before I flush your career down the toilet, do you have anything you'd like to say for yourself?"

The silence stretched out so long you thought maybe he'd hung up. But just in case he didn't, you were patient. You could wait. Finally, his voice devoid of bravado, he responded. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. That was unacceptable."

"It was absolutely unacceptable."

"I... I'm sorry. Please tell Mr. Winchester I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do so you don't feel the need to write that report?" His voice was small and terrified. Almost little.

You could handle that. "Yes. Write your own report, stating everything you said with at least one sentence after each disgusting statement explaining, in detail, why it was wrong. Finish the report with a sincere and heartfelt apology to Mr. Winchester. Email the report to Mr. Winchester. You have three days. Oh, and send your receptionist flowers and a gift certificate for a nice restaurant. And DO NOT ask to go with her as her date. She deserves better than you."

Silence again, but also the faint sound of pen on paper. "Got it, ma'am. Anything else?"

You glanced at your weeping little boy and lowered your voice a bit. "If your mother is still alive call her as soon as you hang up with me and tell her you love her."

"I will, ma'am. Thank you. I'm sorry."

"Get to work on that report." You hung up on him and turned your attention to Dean. You knew he lost his mom very young and it was a source of intense pain for him.

You sat on Dean's lap and cradled his ear to your chest. You rested your cheek on his head and stroked his hair slowly, just holding him. He squeezed his arms tight around you and sniffled.

You were very glad you had shown the foresight to cancel the rest of his meetings for the day.

Chapter Text

It was Saturday and Dean was watching Batman cartoons. You were cuddling him and working on editing some work reports on your laptop when your cell rang.

"Hello, Y/N speaking."

It was your cousin. The bitchy one. She informed you, with all the comfort and tact of a wood chipper, that your beloved grandmother had passed. Your parents each had full time careers when you were little which meant your grandmother had basically raised you. She taught you everything you knew. She taught you to cook. You would never taste her cooking again.

You thanked your cousin for the information and sat staring but unseeing at your computer. You tried very hard to keep your breathing even and blinked fast to try to hold back your tears. But Dean knew something was wrong. He was tuned to your emotional state just like you were to his.

He climbed into your lap and snuggled you close. He whispered, "Love you, Y/N." very softly and brought his fingers up to stroke your earlobe, something he did when he was especially in need of comfort.

You lost it then. You held him close and wept against his shoulder. He grabbed your head and pressed your ear to his heart. You listened to his heartbeat and cried and cried, barely aware of him sitting taller and taller until his arms went around you, strong and comforting.

He began whispering against your hair. "I'm here, Y/N. I got you, Honey."

He was incredible. He canceled work for the next week for both of you and spent the entire time taking care of you. He made sure you ate and showered when all you wanted to do was lay in bed and stare at the wall. He gave you so many cuddles.

And when you started to feel a little more like yourself he slipped back into little space and let you take care of him again.

Chapter Text

Big Dean had finally convinced you to schedule the play date for Little Dean. You were reluctant, and you felt awful for it. You knew he would have fun and it would be good for him to play with another little. But you were so new to this lifestyle and you were dreading meeting the other caregiver. You were probably doing a horrible job with Little Dean and this play date would just bring that into agonizing relief.

But you loved your Sweet Boy. You would do anything for him. Take a bullet, walk through fire, or, worst of all... awkwardly socialize with another caregiver.

Dean tried over and over to reassure you. Every little, caregiver and relationship was different, he said. There wasn't a wrong way or a right way to do anything. The point was you were both happy and content. You and Dean assured one another, over and over, every single day that you were making each other happy, and bringing fulfillment to one another's lives.

But still... You couldn't help but feel anxious.

You were nervously cleaning the already spotless suite and Dean was playing with his Batman Legos. You were listening for the doorbell, it had been wired to sound in the suite.

You had never met this pair but Dean had met them once at a retreat. He went posing as a Daddy, he was too nervous to come out as a little, even in an understanding crowd. He had been emailing and Skyping with these two for months and he trusted them, so you did too.

It was a male caregiver, Chuck, and his Baby Girl. Chuck said she would probably be about four. Usually she was younger but it took trust to get that little and it made sense she wouldn't be able to get there with a stranger and in a new environment. Dean never gave you a number, his age was more fluid, but you guessed he was mostly around two or three.

The doorbell rang. Dean clapped his hands, more excited than you had ever seen him. You laughed, delighted he was so happy. You stroked his hair. "Sit still, Sweet Boy. I'll be right back with your friend." He giggled.

You made sure the door was closed firmly behind you so he wouldn't tumble down the steps and you hurried downstairs. You opened the door and greeted a man with a disarming smile and glittering, happy eyes. He lovingly held the hand of a girl in pigtails and overalls, clutching a soft blanket.

"Hi! I'm so glad you could make it! I'm Y/N." The man shook your hand, he had made sure to hold his girl's hand in his left specifically for this moment, so he could shake hands without having to let her go.

"I'm Chuck. This is my Baby Girl." He beamed at her, proud.

She was acting very shy, pink sparkly pacifier in her mouth, hiding her body halfway behind his. You smiled at her. "It's wonderful to meet you, Baby Girl. Would you like to meet Dean?" You glanced at Chuck. "He's usually good by himself for a few minutes, but we should really go up."

His eyes widened. "You left him alone? Let's go."

You took the lead, hoping he wouldn't see your blush. Strike one, leaving your twoish year old all alone. You felt like an idiot. You used your fingerprint to open the door (Dean had, of course, added you to the system when you moved in) and entered, expecting to see a disaster. He was sitting where you had left him, still playing nicely with his Batman Legos. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"Sweet Boy, your friend is here. Please come say hello." He looked up, a grin spreading across his face and his eyes lighting up. He stood and ran over with his Batman mini fig in one hand and his blanky in the other. He stood beside you and just stared at Baby Girl. You ran a hand through his hair. "Say 'Hello', please."

"Hello." He said, very softly, hiding behind you a little.

Chuck smiled. "Looks like they're both a little shy."

You nodded. "Does Baby Girl like Legos?"

Chuck sighed and thought for a second. "Not usually... They have really small parts, they're usually for bigger kids... It seems like Dean does very well with them, though."

"Uh... Yeah... Okay." Ugh, strike two! You were so clueless! "How about play dough? It's home-made, non-toxic. Flour, salt, water, cream of tartar, Kool-Aid."

"Kool-Aid?" Chuck asked with a smile as you led Dean toward the kitchen table, his hand in yours.

You nodded. "For color. And it makes it smell really good."

You got the littles set up at the table with a few colors of dough each. They sat next to each other, slowly warming up to one another and coming out of their shells. You and Chuck stood watching them, proud as could be.

You glanced at Chuck. "Do you want some coffee?"

He grinned again. "That would be nice, thank you."

Baby Girl had set her paci down and she and Dean were chatting a tiny bit. They were squishing the dough into a variety of unrecognizable shapes.

"I make kitty!"

"I make Batman."

"I make butterfly!"

"I make Batman."

"I make Batman!"

Dean giggled and clapped at Baby Girl's Batman.

You and Chuck shared a grin. "They are so adorable."

He nodded. "They are... You know, this is the first play date we've been on in like two years."

"Oh?"

He nodded again. "We had an unpleasant experience and she didn't want to go on them anymore."

"Oh no! I'm sorry."

"Yeah... We visited with another male caregiver and his little girl. Their dynamic was so different from ours. She misbehaved and got a spanking, right in front of us. It was really scary for Baby Girl." His brow furrowed in concern.

"That sounds awful. So you don't spank either?" Yes! One point for team not-sucking!

"No. We do time-out, loss of privileges like TV shows or dessert, writing lines. I'm not really comfortable hitting her. At least not when she's little." Chuck smirked a bit.

Your mind reeled. Did he hit her when she was big? You couldn't seem to shake that disturbing thought, though she didn't look battered. You couldn't stop the words jumping out of your mouth. "You mean you hit her when she's in big space?"

He glanced at you briefly and then looked again, taking in your horrified expression and bursting into laughter. "I'm sorry! I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at how I must have sounded. No, I don't 'hit' her when she's big... But sometimes there's some... consensual spanking. When we're intimate."

You blushed fiercely. You were cool with the spanking thing, you didn't judge. But you were suddenly feeling inadequate again. You and Dean had never been romantic. Your relationship was either boss/employee, friends, or caregiver/little. It had never gotten sexual. Should it have? Were you neglecting him? Surely he would have told you if it was something he needed... Then again, he was usually little or your boss. The friend thing was only a fraction of the time you spent together, maybe he'd never had a chance to bring it up. And if he did need sex, could you give it to him? You'd never even thought of him that way. Not because he wasn't hot, but because it wasn't appropriate. He was your boss, and now your little.

Chuck noticed your internal crisis. He was a good caregiver, he was tuned to the emotions of others.

"You ok?" He asked quietly.

You glanced at him with wide eyes, mouth betraying you again. "I have no idea what I'm doing." You blurted out.

One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile and he bit the other side of his bottom lip. He nodded and looked down introspectively before bringing his eyes to you again. "Been there."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean, I've always had a dominant, sort of caretaker personality, but until I met Baby Girl I had never even considered caring for a little. She and I dated for months before she felt she could trust me enough to let go with me. And even then she didn't let go all at once.

"At first she started just sitting on my lap in the evening when we would watch movies. She would get upset when I tried to make it, uh... intimate. She just wanted to be held. And then she would occasionally lapse into childlike speech patterns. And when I responded positively to that, she let go a little more.

"And pretty soon she was little most of the time and then one day over breakfast she was just like 'Chuck, you know I'm a little, right?' and I just kissed her head and said, 'I know, Baby Girl.' and the nickname stuck. But yeah, I didn't have a clue at first. It took a lot of research and communication."

You smiled, feeling much better. "Thank you, Chuck. You're really good at this."

He grinned. "Any time."

Naughty giggles erupted from the table and you both looked over to see Baby Girl feeding some orange play dough to Little Dean. Chuck stifled a laugh and you were so relieved he wasn't the type to get angry as a first reaction.

You walked over and gently collected the play dough, putting it back in the ziplock baggie. "Looks like a little boy and girl are done playing and want a snack!" You knew for sure they were getting hungry when they didn't complain about the play dough getting put away, but were instead excited about the snack.

"Can I help?" Chuck asked, bending to kiss Baby Girl's head.

"I got everything ready earlier. Can you get the platter from the fridge?" You got a couple of wet wipes and were cleaning the littles' hands, making sure to tickle their palms a little to make them giggle.

Chuck got out the snack tray. You... May have gone overboard in your nervousness. There were crackers, cheese, ham, turkey, carrot sticks, grapes, tangerines and teddy grahams all laid out in one large fancy spiral pattern on a huge platter. He smirked at you but didn't say anything. There were enough snacks for a flash mob of littles.

You grabbed two sippy cups and matching plastic plates, Dean's had Batman on it, of course, and the other was a pink princess set big Dean had actually helped you pick out just for this play date.

You filled the cups with some water and gave the pink one to Chuck. You set the plates in front of the littles, gave Dean his cup and kissed his head, stopping his hand when it reached for yet more meat (he was your little carnivore) and loading his plate with some fruit and carrots instead. He frowned at you from behind his cup.

"Uh oh! Does someone need tickles?" You made sure his mouth was empty so he wouldn't choke and wriggled your fingers on his tummy, knowing it was more the idea than the sensation that made him giggle so you didn't have to press hard. He collapsed in a fit of giggles and you pressed a carrot stick into his fist as he calmed down.

He still looked at it skeptically so you leaned down, whispering into his ear- "You know, Batman got to be so strong because he loves his fruits and vegetables." His eyes went wide and he took a bite of his carrot.

You sat beside him and glanced up, smiling at Chuck and Baby Girl. He was teasing her with a grape, pretending he was going to eat it until she squealed indignantly and then relenting and feeding it to her instead. He glanced over at you and you shared a smile.

You kissed Dean's head as he grabbed a segment of a tangerine and ate it with gusto. You may not be perfect at this yet. You may never be. But you were starting to see that wasn't the point. The point was that you loved your Sweet Boy with all of your heart and he loved you with all of his. (He was showing his love right now, feeding you one of his teddy grahams. You ate it right from his hand and smiled at how proud he looked.)

You loved each other. You took care of each other. And that's all that really mattered.

Chapter Text

Your grandmother's memorial was much more stressful than you had imagined. You thought, death of a loved one, people would be nice to each other in your mutual time of grief, right? Ha! You couldn't have been more wrong.

Your relatives were at each other's throats, dragging up ancient history and throwing it in each other's faces. And the ones who weren't doing that were basically looting your dead grandmother's possessions. Real classy.

Your bitchy cousin was taking every possible opportunity to make underhanded comments. She was married to a stock broker, rich, two perfect children and one on the way. She had already published two popular smutty romance novels and they had just purchased yet another vacation home. This one was in Venice.

"So... You brought your boss..." She said with mock sweetness, her gaze like ice.

"Yep. He's my best friend, he wanted to be here for me." You gazed at Dean who was holding his own with your cousin's husband.

"Are you two..." She said, winking suggestively.

"Friends? Very good friends, yes." You smiled.

Your cousin's face fell but her eyebrows shot up. "So... No marriage or..." She smoothed a hand down her round belly. "Other prospects on the horizon?"

Dean's eyes shot to yours. You were so in tune with each other sometimes you thought you shared a psychic bond. He broke away from your cousin-in-law quickly and came over to you, putting an arm around your waist. He beamed a charming smile at your cousin.

"So nice to finally meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you."

Your sleazy married and pregnant cousin undressed him with her eyes. "All good things, I hope. Forgive me for saying, you are just delicious."

His hand found yours and held tight. He moved slightly behind you. He didn't speak again and you saw his eyes go soft and a little scared. You didn't blame him, your cousin was giving him a creepy predatory gaze. You crouched down just a bit shorter, trying to help him hang onto big space long enough for you to get the two of you out of there. He stood a little taller, trying to hold on.

"I'm afraid I'm feeling a little sick. I think we're going to go back to our room. Have a good night." You and your cousin shared ridiculous air kisses and her husband insisted on a hug that lasted several seconds too long, despite your trying to pull away. It was creepy as hell but it helped Dean stay in big space, the instinct to protect you powerful.

Thank goodness the memorial was being held on the first level of the hotel you were staying at. You and Dean slipped onto the elevator, relieved to be alone.

You had felt him fighting to stay big all night so you assumed he would go little as soon as you were alone. But he didn't. He towered over you without meaning to, his protective indignation making him automatically puff himself up.

"Y/N, are you okay? Did that douchebag hurt you? I swear to god if he hurt you..." You interrupted him with a gentle hand on his face.

"Please calm down. He didn't hurt me. Just creeped me out a bit. I'm fine." The elevator came to your floor and you took his hand and walked down the your room, unlocking it with the card and slipping inside. You took off your heels first thing while Dean paced the room.

"Well, something is wrong. I can tell." He grumbled.

You shrugged. "My cousin was her usual delightful self. I'm just tense and exhausted for hours of being judged." You balanced on one foot and rubbed the aching ball of the other. Your heels were gorgeous, but painful to wear for any length of time, and the memorial was long, and standing-room-only. Your grandma had been an amazing woman and it warmed your heart to see hundreds of people mourning her. She would be remembered, and she would be missed.

You were so lost in thought you didn't notice Dean taking up one corner of the sofa and patting his lap, until he spoke. "Come here."

You arched a brow at him. "You want me to sit on your lap?"

He smirked. "No, silly. Give me your feet. Let me take care of you."

You grumbled but reluctantly came over to the couch, sitting so your feet were in his lap. He grabbed one and started to rub. You sighed.

"Not that this isn't amazing, because it is. But, Baby, I know how much you wanted to let go today."

"Shh. Let me make you feel better."

You sat up and held his hands in yours. "Dean..." He reluctantly looked at you and you saw how very hard he was trying to stay big. "Honestly, Honey, what would make me feel better right now is to spend some time with my Sweet Boy."

"Really?" He asked, still slightly skeptical.

You nodded. "It makes me feel so good, taking care of you. It makes me feel needed and loved and capable." You smiled. "You seem to think it's this one-way thing, you just taking and taking and giving nothing back, but, Sweetie, you give me so much." You gazed into his eyes, letting the truth of your words fill your gaze. You stroked his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned into your touch. And when his eyes opened again they were soft and full of love. Your heart felt like it was swelling, you were so in love with that look.

You smiled gently. "Hi, Sweet Boy. I missed you so much today." You weren't surprised when he burst into tears. It had been a very stressful, emotional day for both of you.

You held his head against your heartbeat as you sang 'Blackbird' by the Beatles. You were usually mortified to sing in front of anyone, but your boy was different. He never judged you. He always requested Beatles lullabies and they never failed to calm him. All except 'Hey Jude'. That one he had asked to hear just once, and he had cried for hours after.

His tears finally eased and you used a tissue to dry his cheeks and eyes and then wipe his nose. He gave you a little smile. "Better?" You whispered. He nodded and gave you a big hug. You laughed and hugged back as he squeezed you. "Oh, I love you, Baby."

He leaned back and looked at you, very serious. "You turn."

You brushed his hair back from his forehead. It wasn't really necessary since his hair wasn't long enough to get in his eyes, but it made you feel so good when your soft little touches made him smile or sigh in contentment. "My turn for what, Sweet Boy?"

He scooted to the far side of the couch and patted his lap as he'd done when he was big, only a bit more exuberantly and adorably clumsily. You smiled and put your feet on his lap. He grabbed one foot and started squishing it in his hands like play dough. It kind of tickled and pinched more than anything.

You crunched your shoulders up and down and made owie sounds. He looked at you. "Sweet Boy... My back and shoulders really hurt. Do you think you could rub them?" He nodded, excited and moved to kneel behind you. "Uh, oh! You're still in itchy big clothes. Should we get you in jammies first?" He smiled and nodded again. He was very little tonight, which didn't surprise you. He had held on so tight for so long today.

You quickly got him changed, the two of you had done this so many times you had it down to an art form. You got in your own jammies, washed both your faces and gave him his Batman toothbrush to use while you brushed your teeth. You took him by the hand over to the bed and laid down on your tummy. He climbed on top of you and sat on your butt. He was a little heavy but not painfully so, and you could still breathe fine. He began working your back and shoulder muscles, again like play dough, only this time it felt heavenly. Your muscles really were tight.

You sighed deeply. "Oh, Sweet Boy, that feels so much better. You take such good care of me." He puffed up with pride and rubbed your neck. You groaned as he worked out some knots. "Mmm, Little One. You're wonderful."

He continued for several more moments until you drifted off and let out soft snores. He stifled a giggle, used his precious blanky to tuck you in, and softly kissed your head before snuggling close beside you and falling asleep too, so proud that he had taken such good care of you.

Chapter Text

You were having lunch in Dean's office today. You had your phone open to the notepad app where you kept your little's notes. "Okay, so, this Saturday night. Do I need to pick anything up at the store? I've noticed you don't have any bubbles."

You were planning on giving him a bath. Until now he had always showered before slipping into little space, but you thought he just might enjoy you giving him a bath. And boy, had you been right. You brought up the subject while you drove home after work one day and he tried very hard to not flip out with excitement and even partially succeeded.

He took a giant bite of his sandwich and started talking with his mouth crammed full. "Uh uh... Swallow first or you'll choke." You gently admonished him. He rolled his eyes but listened to you. Just as he was finishing chewing and starting to swallow you added, "And next time take smaller bites."

You smiled sweetly and he arched a brow at you. "I'm your boss right now, you know." He said.

You smiled and shrugged. "Sorry I don't want you dead. What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say, I don't have bubbles because I never wanted to risk being little by myself in a body of water. But I would love for you to give me a bath. Especially washing my hair. So, yes, bubbles. And that kid shampoo that doesn't sting your eyes. And bath toys." He took another bite, slightly less giant than the previous one.

You added the three items to the list. "So... What kind of toys? Paw Patrol? My Little Pony?" You couldn't quite hide your teasing smirk and he just rolled his eyes at you. But he couldn't quite hide the twinkle in his eyes either.

...

He had begged you, both as big Dean and little Dean to let him peek in the bag of bath products you had bought, but you were steadfast. You wanted it to be a surprise.

Finally it was Saturday night. Dean had been big all day, he had to go into the office to finish some reports. He was so tired but also stressed and he was having trouble unwinding.

You took off his tie and jacket for him, even though he was still big, and dragged him by the hand to the couch. He slipped off his shoes, grumbling under his breath. You sat on the couch and he laid down on his back, head in your lap.

You petted his head and hummed slow Beatles songs until his muscles relaxed and his eyes turned soft.

He reached up and gripped your earlobe with one hand, slipping the thumb of the other hand into his mouth. You stroked his forehead gently and smiled.

"Hey, my Sweet Boy. You had a long day, huh?" He nodded, eyes tearing up and face going grumpy. "Are you ready for your bath?" His expression instantly transformed into one of excited delight.

You grinned at the pure joy in his face. "Let's go, baby."

He jumped up and wobble-ran to the bathroom and you chased him playfully. He stopped outside the bathroom door and clapped excitedly. You kissed his cheek and opened the door, holding his hand so he wouldn't run into the bathroom and slip.

You got the water started and helped him take off his shirt and pants. You dug around in the grocery bag and got a bottle of Batman bubbles, dumping at least four times the normal amount under the faucet. Dean's eyes went big and he giggled, watching the bubbles form as you stripped off his socks, undershirt and boxers. You tested the temperature, shut off the water, and helped him sink into the tub, bubbles so thick they reached his chin.

"Oh my goodness, I put too many bubbles!" You giggled and put a dollop of bubbles on his nose.

"Nuff bubbles." He said.

"Just enough?"

He nodded seriously. You stifled a giggle. How could this much cute come out of one person?

"Is it time for toys, Sweet Boy?"

He clapped and bounced a little, splashing outside the tub just a bit. He was a bit embarrassed but you assured him that's why you had put down so many towels.

From the bag you pulled a Batman squirty toy, a Batman bath mitt, a Batman tumbler that would hold lots of water for washing his hair, and a My Little Pony mermaid toy.

He had been clapping and squealing in excitement at the toys, but this one he looked at you sideways and frowned. You laughed at his cute grumpy face.

"This one is for me, so I can play too." You gently explained. He smiled at that.

Finally, you got out a couple of Batman wash cloths and a giant waterproof Batman action figure. He bounced again when he saw this and made grabby-hands. You kissed his head and gave him the Batman toy.

He played and splashed and squirted, having so much fun! And then you got out the shampoo and had him lean his head back while you ran warm water over his hair. He sighed pleasantly. You lathered up your hands and knelt behind him, scrubbing his hair gently but thoroughly, massaging his scalp with your fingers. You loved how relaxed he got from your touch. When you were done with that you rinsed his hair with water from the tumbler and did it all one more time, this time focusing more on rubbing the tension out of his neck and the back of his head.

By the time you were done, he was getting sleepy. You put some soap on a washcloth and scrubbed his back, arms and chest. You handed him the cloth and he washed everything under the water line.

You had one more surprise- a giant, warm, fluffy Batman towel. He stood and you dried him off, wishing so much that you were strong enough to scoop him up. But he seemed content with your attentions.

You wrapped him in the towel, guided him, hand in hand, to the bedroom, and got him dressed in jammies.

Once you had him tucked in nice and snug you read him one story, sang him one song, and snuggled him so very close until he fell fast asleep, squeaky clean and loved completely.

Chapter Text

Big Dean was showing little Nori around on the main floor, her tiny hand in his large one. He showed her the flatscreen with streaming shows, including kid's stuff, the one coloring book and set of eight crayons he had in a special drawer 'just for her', and he gave her one of the chocolate chip cookies you had made earlier.

You stood next to Sam, watching Dean and Sam's toddler daughter sit down at the coffee table to color. You both wore identical adoring expressions.

Sam had to go so he gave Nori kisses and hugs and you and Dean said goodbye too. He was going to be gone until after dinner.

Nori discovered Dean's downstairs stash of Legos and dumped them out. The sound of cascading corners of plastic was deafening. You glanced up and saw Dean's eyes go soft and wide.

"Uh-oh..." he said, before bursting into tears.

You started to rush over but Nori was there first. She tugged his hand until he sat and climbed into his lap, cuddling him close. "It okay... it okay..." she told him softly, over and over until he glanced at you, saw you weren't mad, and calmed down.

She stayed in his lap and they played with Legos until lunch time.

"Sweet Boy... should we show Nori the upstairs?" You knew it would be worlds easier to cook lunch in a child-safe space, rather than trying to watch them both down here and cook.

You helped Dean and Nori upstairs and got them settled with a giant stack of coloring books, a tub of crayons and cartoons while you cooked lunch, grilled cheese and soup.

You fed them both, taking turns giving them bites. And for dessert they munched on sliced apples. Nori wasn't too sure about the fruit until Dean explained things to her.

"Batman big 'cause fruits." He said, very seriously.

Her eyes went wide and she ate two more apple slices.

They were starting to look drowsy and you tucked them in, Dean laying on the couch, Nori cradled on his chest, both bundled in a soft, warm blanket.

After their nap they played with Batman action figures and then with play dough.

They had just finished a rousing game of hide-and-seek when you asked them to help you get dinner ready. Homemade pizza! They got to pick out their own toppings. Nori piled olives on hers and Dean's was mostly meat with one olive. 'Cause Batman.

After dinner you gave them each a cookie and when Dean was done with his you had him stand up tall and hold you close, the top of your head reaching just under his chin.

Soon he was big again, and he helped you get Nori cleaned up (her hands and face were covered in tomato sauce from the pizza and melted chocolate from the cookies) and carried her downstairs, quickly settling on the couch with the little girl, who had fallen asleep on the way down the stairs.

You answered the door when Sam rang the bell and guided him in to the downstairs living room. He gazed fondly at his brother and his daughter. Nori was out and Dean looked sleepy too.

Without even turning to look at you, Sam spoke. "Did you guys spend a lot of time upstairs today?" He asked, very quietly.

You glanced at him and felt the blood drain from your face. "Uhm..."

He smirked and looked at you. "It's ok, Y/N. I know. I've always known. I'm fine with it. He's so great with Nori."

You were still confused, and he must have been able to see it. He put an arm around your shoulders and kissed your head, like your own brother might do if you had one.

"Thank you. For taking care of him. He's so much happier now, and it's because of you. Because he trusts you enough to let go. He was so angry for so long and now he's back. You've given my brother back to me, Y/N. Thank you for that."

You could feel happy, overwhelmed tears threaten. You gave Sam a tight, one-armed hug back.

"Always." You answered softly, gazing at your little love cuddling his tiny niece.

Chapter Text

Dean was his big self and he was getting ready for the office Halloween party he was throwing at the house. He had hired a caterer and a DJ. The house was spotless and decorated to within an inch of its life. He had commissioned a professional grade costume designer to make him a Batsuit, and it looked damn good.

He checked the time on his phone and grumbled. "Y/N! People will be here any minute now!" The rumor mill around the office was that the two of you were a serious item. Thus why you came in and left work together, and why you lived in his house. It wasn't true, but it was fine with you both if people thought that.

He was excited to see what your costume was. He had told you he was going to be Batman and he said he would love for you to be a character from Batman. He figured Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy... Cat Woman. Which is why he was so shocked when he saw you coming down the stairs dressed as... A giant fluffy penguin.

"Y/N... What the hell?"

You looked down at yourself. "What? There's a penguin in Batman, right?"

He buried his head in his hand.

"I thought it was cute!" You frowned at him a bit.

He rolled his eyes and nodded. "It's adorable." The doorbell rang. "And there's our first guests."

You guys had fun. You thought it was funny how women would hang off Dean but continually glance at you as if you were going to slap them with a giant penguin flipper. You barely noticed how every time a guy would try to talk to you Dean would glare at them until they left you alone. You danced with a group of gal friends and rocked your penguin-ness.

The doorbell would ring now and then and Dean was always the first to answer, handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters. He knew who every single kid was dressed as. By name.

"Hey, Blinky from Troll Hunters!" "Sky and Everest from Paw Patrol!" "Moana! And is your pug dressed up like HeiHei?"

And then a boy came to the door, just a little older than little Dean, in a blue and grey Batman costume. Dean nodded at the kid and gave him extra candy. "Old school. Nice."

Eventually the doorbell stopped ringing and the party wound down. You called cabs for the stragglers who were too drunk to drive home and shooed them out the door. You weren't too concerned with the mess, you knew Dean hired cleaners for tomorrow.
He was wandering around aimlessly and blinking a lot.

"You're getting tired. We should go to bed." He just blinked at you. You sighed and picked up a few things. Glasses that were threatening to spill, snack food that needed to go in the fridge.

You came back to the living room and he was sitting on the couch, munching with gusto on candy from the leftover stuff you had bought for the trick or treaters. "Dean, you really shouldn't be eating so much so close to bed. You'll get a stomach ache."

Your first clue something was off was when he didn't grump at you for telling him what to do when he was big. Then there was the fact that he refused to look at you. And then you noticed he was unwrapping and stuffing candy in his mouth as fast as he possibly could.

Your hands went to your hips. "Little Man..." You used a warning tone and his wide, soft eyes flicked to yours. You had to stifle a grin at the sight of chocolate smeared all over his face and hands. "How much candy have you had, Sweet Boy?"

His eyebrows went up and he shrugged, still chewing.

"No more. It's bedtime." He glowered at you and you could tell he was thinking about taking the candy and running, but he knew he would get a giant time out and probably grounded for a week from playing with his Legos. So he just pouted but he didn't eat any more candy.

You ran your hand through his hair. "Good boy." He leaned into your touch. "I want you to stay right here and I'll get a cloth to clean you up." You tipped his head so he was looking at your eyes. "Do you hear me, Batman? Your mission is to not touch anything until I get back. Can you do that?"

His eyes lit up and he nodded, his face very serious. You kissed his forehead and went and got a warm wet wash cloth. When you came back you saw that he was concentrating very hard on not touching anything. He glanced at you and smiled. "Good boy! I'm so very proud of you." He grinned.

You cleaned his hands and face and grabbed his hand and helped him upstairs. You helped him out of his Batsuit and got him and you ready for bed. As you snuggled close together under the covers, softly running your fingers through his hair, his head resting over your heartbeat, you heard him say, very softly,

"Happy 'Ween, Y/N."

You smiled, cuddled him closer and whispered back,

"Happy Halloween, my Sweet Boy."

Chapter Text

You gazed into his eyes, your hand caressing his cheek. "You're sure?"

He rolled his eyes at you. "I'm sure, Y/N. I can make it one weekend without you. I'll be fine. Besides, you deserve this. Go have a good time."

It was almost your birthday and Dean had given you a weekend retreat at an exclusive spa. Healthy food, water with cucumber slices, mud baths, massages, no work emails. 48 hours of pampering. It sounded like heaven. Except for one thing. It meant leaving him.

You threw your arms around him and held him tight. The car he had hired honked its horn again. He hugged you close, breathing you in briefly before pushing you gently toward the door.

"I promise I'll be fine. Go have fun." He said.

You kissed his head and walked out the door, closing it gently behind you after giving him one last look.

He was alone. He had been alone most of his adult life. He could do this. He was a grown man... So why was he just standing there? He made himself get changed. It was Friday night and work had been brutal earlier that day. His boss was on his case which meant he had to get on his employees' cases too. Nobody was happy with him.

He put on jeans and a t-shirt and sat on his bed, staring at the wall. If you were here right now you would be holding him on the couch upstairs, guiding him into little space. Turning on a cartoon or setting him down with his Legos while you cooked mac and cheese or dino nuggets. You'd set him up at the table with a juice box and a plate. You'd make sure he ate his vegetables. You'd tell him he was your good boy.

After dinner you would hold him and read a book, or give him a bubble bath. Maybe play Legos with him. He liked that. You'd talk to him gently, praise him, touch his hair and his face.

He closed his eyes and touched his own cheek. It wasn't the same.

He had to stop this, dammit. You'd been gone ten minutes and he was already a wreck. He had spent years alone. Most of his adult life. What had he done before you?

He drank until he passed out. He picked up random women at bars. When he couldn't help but go into little space he mostly just cried. Scared, lost, alone.

He decided he had to do something. Anything. He ordered a pizza and turned on an action movie. He cleaned his already clean house. He paid for the pizza when it came and ate it with a beer and a salad. You would have been proud he ate his vegetables. He turned on another movie.

He thought about getting ready for bed but it hurt too much. So he just drank beer and watched movies until he passed out, fully dressed, on the couch.

In the morning he got himself ready for the day and decided to go in to work. He yelled at three different people. He made his receptionist cry. Later on in the afternoon he found himself under his desk with a juice box, tears running down his face.

He came home and ran on his treadmill. He lifted weights. He watched sports. He ate a frozen meal he had stashed in the back of the freezer, leftover from before you had come to live with him and cook for him.

He drank himself stupid and passed out on the couch again.

Sunday morning he cleaned himself up and got himself dressed. He was okay and he hated it. He missed you. He missed needing you. But he was okay. Because he had to be.

He took a walk to the bakery. He got coffee, muffins and a cookie for later. The coffee girl flirted with him. He flirted back. He bought a paper, sat in the park and ate his breakfast.

He went home and called his brother. Sam asked where you were. Dean said you couldn't come to the phone.

He didn't know what else to do. If you were here you'd be helping him with a report or making him take a break. You'd be rubbing his shoulders or asking him to brush your hair.

But you weren't here. He was lost and alone. So he decided to take a nap.

He slept far longer than he had planned, straight through lunch and into the evening. He dreamed you were with him, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. He even dreamed he could smell you.

And when he dreamed he put his arms around you he could actually feel you. He had his face buried in your neck and one hand in your hair before he realized he was no longer dreaming.

You were back. You had come home.

And after the 48 longest hours of his life, he felt like he had come home too.

Chapter Text

You were crying your eyes out in the bathroom, the tissues, hemorrhoid cream, and wash cloth ready on the counter, Dean little and fast asleep in the next room. You had miscounted. Usually you were more on top of your cycle but this time with all the stress at work you had let it slip your mind. Your PMDD had hit you hard, and this time you weren't ready.

PMDD was a complete nightmare. For about two weeks every single month your mind turned against you. You heard your own voice inside your head telling you terrible things. Urging you to do terrible things to yourself. Convincing you that you were an awful person and you deserved to be hated and shunned. Convincing you everyone already hated you.

Most of the time you would track your cycle closely, drink more water, exercise like a mad woman, say "no" to extra projects and basically just ramp up the self care. It mostly worked. But this time you hadn't seen it coming. And yesterday you had done the unthinkable. You had raised your voice at your little. He burst into tears and it had taken you hours to calm him down but he was brave. He didn't run from you and the two of you had slowly worked it out.

Thank god. If you had to go to bed with him still scared and upset you would have spent the whole night vomiting and sobbing even worse than you were now and maybe you would have even listened to the evil voices and hurt yourself.

But he was amazing as usual. He wasn't sure what was wrong but he knew you needed him. And he loved you enough not to let you go.

But maybe he should. You were an awful person and a terrible caregiver. He needed someone whole. Someone strong.

You sobbed as silently as you could, mouth wide open to quiet your sniffles and gasping breaths, trying desperately to calm yourself enough to apply the cold wet cloth to your face and the hemorrhoid cream under your eyes so you could pretend you were okay and go back to him. He needed you.

And then there was a knock on the door.

"Y/N... Please open the door." It was Dean. And he was his big self.

You had told him PMS was very hard on you, you had even used the term PMDD and tried to explain it to him. But you figured he hadn't really paid attention. Why would he? It was your job to take care of him. Not the other way around.

"Y/N..." His voice was gentle and a little sad. It broke your heart. You unlocked and opened the bathroom door. He glanced at you, his eyes full of pain.

You had done this to him. You had hurt him. You were worthless. Worse, you were abusive filth. Pretending you could take care of him. Pretending you deserved to.

"I'll be gone by morning." You breathed, your blood running cold. His eyes widened and his face paled. You rushed to reassure him. "I'm not angry with you for wanting me gone. I know I'm a mess. You don't need to deal with this. This is my issue and I am so sorry I can't take care of you..."

He cut off your words with a bone-crushing hug.

"Y/N, stop... This isn't you, this is your illness. You can normally handle this, it's just been a stressful time lately and it got away from you. You are gentle and kind and compassionate and caring. You are funny and sweet and frikking amazing. I told you I loved you and I meant it. I told you you were stuck with me and I meant it. I'm not letting you go, sweetheart. Not ever."

You clung to him desperately, trembling and barely daring to believe his words. Why would he want you? You were so broken. But it had been almost a year and he had never let you go before. He had always been infinitely patient with you. He had always reassured you when you made little mistakes and beat yourself up about them. He was incredible.

"Let's get you through this one, okay?" You nodded, wondering if he meant he was going to get you through this one and then throw you away. But then he kissed your forehead. "Let's get you through this one and make a plan. Together. So this never gets this bad again. And Y/N..." He held you at arm's length and stared into your eyes. "I love you enough and I am strong enough to take care of you sometimes too. Please don't ever try to hide parts of yourself from me again. No matter how scary they are." He stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"You are my heart. And I will never throw you away."