Work Text:
The first time it happened, you were quietly shaking in the backseat, Dean's loud music covering your short breaths as you willed yourself to calm down, it was one of those days again. You don't know what it was, what it was called, why it happened. All you knew was that it was unpleasant. Your voice was lost and your vision became blurry, whether it was from the tears or because of your dizziness, you didn’t know. There were too many things in your mind that you couldn't think, see, and hear properly.
But now, on those kinds of days, your brothers would notice, after it happened the second time, they were panicked, they didn’t know what to do. When they asked, you only looked at them scared, maybe confused, and you kept silent. The tears that formed in your eyes fell when their voices grew louder in worry, something between a yelp and a whimper also escaped you when Sam tried to pat your shoulder–that was what he usually did when comforting you– he retracted his hand like he was burnt when that happened. After all the panic, they both decided to stop by the nearest motel to let you rest. You talked about it the next morning.
The next time that happened, their movements were hesitant but determined to get you to relax, almost to the point of overdoing it. After a few more times, their reactions became more natural. Dean would turn his music off and play yours, the ones you listen to when you need to calm down. On the occasion that it rains, he would turn your music down for you to be able to listen to the pitter-patter of the rain. Particularly loud thunderstorms did the opposite for you, you would need to play your music loud enough that you couldn't hear the loud thunder. It would cover up the loud rumbles, although the volume of the music itself would be overwhelming, at the very least, you knew the songs’ rhythms and you wouldn’t be as scared. Sam would constantly glance at your reflection in the rearview mirror, not saying anything to not overwhelm you.
When it finally passes, you would hear Dean humming along to your songs. And when he catches you smiling fondly at him, realizing that whatever happened had passed, he would become silent, maybe a tint of red would be barely visible on his cheeks, but you never mentioned it. Sam would hand you your comfort drink, and if it wasn’t available, he would give you a bottle of water, telling you to hydrate.
After a couple of these incidents, Sam bought you noise-canceling headphones that were comfortable to wear, and you only wore them when there were thunderstorms, they blocked all the thunder. You refused to wear them when there wasn’t any thunder, Baby’s purr and Dean’s humming calmed you down most. They never complained about these moments, they were always there. You were thankful for your brothers.