Archive of Our Own

Your glasses clinked together as you cheersed, happy that yet another case was done.  Dean watched you threw back your beer to take a large gulp before he did the same.  Just as you set your glass down, the waitress brought over the cheese fries Dean had ordered.

“That looks like heaven,” Dean said, fingers grabbing a chunk of cheesy goodness and stuffing it unceremoniously into his mouth.  You hummed your agreement as you grabbed just as big of a bite, cheese dangling from your lip as you chewed.

Sam rolled his eyes, taking another drink of his beer instead of having some fries.  Dean shrugged.  More for him, then.

You were already reaching for another bite, too, dipping this glob of fries and cheese into the ranch sauce before eating it.  You didn’t notice Dean watching you as you chewed, distracted by the other patrons of the bar.  People watching was one of your favorite things to do, after all.

Dean kept eating but started to savor each bite as opposed to the way you ate an entire mouthful each with bite.  When dinner came to the table, you dug in to your wings, the sauce the perfect amount of spicy.

Dean was distracted by his bacon cheeseburger for a bit, eyes wandering toward the voluptuous waitress a few times but knowing he wasn’t going for it.  He hadn’t been quite in the mood for a hook-up in the last few months, and while he couldn’t put a finger on the reason, he didn’t much care.

He enjoyed hanging out with you and Sam well enough, thank you very much.

When the three of you finished eating, you ordered the brownie-ice cream-lava explosion that you had seen another group order (a group of six people, mind you), waggling your eyebrows at Dean to ask him to help you eat it.  He shrugged, knowing that he could definitely have something sweet for dessert, and even Sam had a few bites once it came around.

You, on the other hand, ate your portion and more.

When the dessert was all gone or too melted to scoop any more, Dean watched you lean back in your chair, one hand rubbing the food baby that had formed in your stomach.  He shook his head, knowing you’d probably have a stomachache from being so full all of a sudden, but to each his - or her - own.  

The three of you headed back to the motel for a final night, knowing that you were going to point Baby towards Kansas first thing in the morning.  Sam fell asleep almost immediately upon getting to the room, laying like a starfish on one of the double beds.

Dean turned the television on, keeping the volume low.  He found some old sitcom to play as you puttered around the room, changing clothes and getting ready for bed.  The two of you watched television for an episode and a half, laughing quietly at the characters on the screen.

When Dean glanced at you every so often, he saw that your hand was still on your stomach, rubbing it gently.  He knew you’d have a stomachache, and apparently you were trying to ease it.  You never said anything about it though, only giving Dean a cheerful “Night,” when he turned off the light.

Dean was nearly asleep when he felt the bed shift, your body sliding out from beneath the covers.  He heard you go to the bathroom and close the door, the light seeping through the crack at the bottom.

He rolled over, getting comfortable again and easing his mind back to sleepfulness after being semi-woken by your movement.

Until he heard you.

You were throwing up, he would recognize the sound anywhere.  Must have had bad wings, he thought to himself, his mind awake now.  

It was hard to ignore the sound of you being sick in the small room for sleep.

Five minutes went by, with you throwing up every little bit.  Dean watched the numbers on the clock, watching them tick.

Ten minutes, you were still throwing up.  Something was definitely not right.

Dean threw the covers off of himself and headed toward the bathroom door, glancing at where Sam was still dead to the world.  He knocked quietly, not wanting to wake his brother.

“Y/N?” he said softly.  “You okay?”

He heard the toilet flush and some scuffling before you cracked the door open.  Your eyes had bags under them and your hair was all over the place, like you’d been pulling at it.

Then you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

“I’m good, Dean.  Just had to pee.”

Dean cocked his head in confusion, wondering why you were lying.  “But -”

“No worries, Dean.  I’ll just wash my hands and be right back in bed.  Don’t lose sleep because of me, please.”

You closed the door and Dean heard the sink run, so he turned back toward the bed.  He climbed under the covers just as you came out of the bathroom, sliding into bed as well.

All was still for a while.  

Dean couldn’t sleep though, mind reeling to come up with reasons of why you didn’t tell him you were ill.  He had nearly calmed himself down to sleep when you got out of bed again.

Once more to the bathroom, and once more throwing up.

Dean was out of bed in an instant, not wanting you to be sick and alone.  He was your friend, he wanted to be there through the good times and the bad.

When he got to the door the retching noises had stopped, so he paused.  Maybe you were okay.  He listened for a moment, knowing how creepy he was being but not caring.  He just desperately hoped you didn’t open the door to find him standing there.

That’s when he heard the choking sound.

Immediately he opened the door, the harsh, sudden light above the mirror making his eyes squint, but he saw you before you could move.

You were kneeling in front of the toilet with your finger down your throat, pressing down on your gag reflex.

“Y/N!” Dean said, closing the door behind him and pulling your hand from your mouth.  “What are you doing?”

Your eyes widened, realizing what Dean had seen.  You started shaking your head, crawling backward and away from Dean.  He watched you as you moved, looking like a spooked animal.  You stopped as your back hit the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees and closing your eyes, as if to ignore Dean.

“Y/N?” Dean said again, quieter this time.  “What’s going on?”

The care and concern in his voice is what made you look at him, seeing how distraught he was.  Dean always wore his heart on his sleeve for you, looking out for you in every way possible. 

When you met his eyes, you burst out crying.

Immediately Dean was by your side, pulling you into his arms.  He whispered words of encouragement into your hair, kissing your head gently as he rocked you back and forth.  You didn’t know it, but his eyes welled up in sympathy for you, wishing he could take away whatever was causing your tears.

When you finally calmed, Dean pushed you away slightly, cleaning your cheeks with his thumbs.  “It’s all okay, Y/N.  I’m here for you.  Whatever you need.”

You nodded, believing him completely.  Dean was always there for you, no matter what.  Maybe…

“I…” you started, but you realized you didn’t know where to start.  Dean saw the panic on your face and pulled you close again.  

“It’s okay, Y/N.  No matter what, I’m here.”

You pushed your face into his shirt, feeling his heartbeat on your cheek.  You breathed with him for a moment before you started again.

“I was making myself throw up.”

Dean was quiet for a second.  “Because you ate too much tonight?” he asked, trying to understand.

You shook your head.

“I overeat, too.”

Dean was quiet for a bit longer this time.

“Do you…” he started, letting the question die in his throat.  You pulled away to look up at him, giving him the go ahead to continue.  “Do you do that, both of those things, often?”

You nodded.

Dean pulled you back into his arms, not letting you see the tear that escaped from his eye.  He didn’t know why you did what you did, but he knew one thing.

“I’m here to help, if you want me to.”

You melted, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.  Maybe, with Dean’s help, you could get better.

Everything was easier with Dean on your side.