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[Y/N] lay in her bed, a pillow over her head and covers pulled up as far as they would go, completely cocooned from the world around her. It was late afternoon, and she'd been having a bad day that was just getting worse and worse. It had started with no hot water in the shower, then no food left for breakfast in the kitchen, then her car not starting when she wanted to go on a supply run, and since Sam and Dean had gone to help Donna out with something, she just had to walk. Then she couldn't find half the things she wanted to buy, then it rained on the way home, and then the handles on one of her shopping bags snapped halfway home and had to carry everything in her arms. She'd struggled to get back into the bunker while holding everything and had dropped several items onto the ground in the process, scraping her hand off her key when she reacted too quickly to grab everything. There still wasn't any hot water when she checked the showers again, and she'd ended up just slinking into bed after peeling off her soaked clothes, cold and shivering with a headache.
She didn't hear the knock on her door, or the squeak as the door slowly opened. "[Y/N]? You in here?" Dean's voice was muffled from under the pillow, but she heard him and sighed, pushing the pillow off her face and turning to face him. "Hey, what's wrong?" His eyebrows furrowed together in concern as her took in her state; he could clearly see that she'd been crying. He quickly made his way over to the bed and rested the back of his hand against her forehead. "Are you sick? Why didn't you call me? Or Sam?"
"I'm not sick", she sighed, pulling Dean's hand off her face but keeping it in her hand. "Just a headache, I'm having a bad day". Dean was the only person who [Y/N] allowed herself to be vulnerable with. He'd seen her at her very worst, and she'd seen him at his too. There was no question about the absolute trust between the two of them.
"Your hand is freezing [Y/N], are sure you're not sick?" He asked, his free hand moving to feel her cheek and then back to her forehead. "Why is your hair wet?"
"Got caught in the rain", she mumbled, but when Dean gave her a questioning look to tell her to elaborate, she sighed and told him about how her day had gone, keeping his hand in hers the entire time, enjoying the warmth and stability that it provided.
"Okay. I'll tell you what we're going to do to make your day better. I'll get Sam to have a look at the water situation, and in the meantime, I'll fill up a hot water bottle, get something hot for you to drink, and I'll get my laptop. We can watch something on it while we get you warmed up. How's that sound?" He pushed a strand of wet hair off her face and let his hand linger on her cheek. She nodded into it, closing her eyes and letting herself enjoy the warmth of his hand. "Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes, you just get some clothes on and wait here", he let go of her face and walked over to her chest of drawers, pulling out her fluffy pyjamas that she usually only put on when she wasn't feeling well. "Here, these will work", he set them down on the bottom of her bed and quickly leaned over to kiss the top of her head before leaving the room.
Reluctantly, she pushed back her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She took a deep breath before grabbing the pyjamas, and lazily put them on. She quickly got back under the covers and closed her eyes, waiting in silence for Dean to come back. It wasn't long before her door was opened again, and she opened her eyes to see Dean in the doorway. He had his laptop tucked under one arm, a hot water bottle under the other, and a mug in either hand, both with steam flowing out of them.
"Hey Sweetheart", he smiled at her as he walked over to the bed. He handed her a mug which she quickly wrapped her hands around, then set his own down on the bedside table, along with his laptop. He shoved the hot water bottle under the covers where her feet were, and she immediately felt warmer. He had changed out of his jeans and was now wearing pyjama bottoms that [Y/N] had bought him for his last birthday, and an old t-shirt. "Room for one more?"
"Yeah", she said as she moved over in the bed, lifting up the covers for him. He quickly slid in beside her, but stopped her when she tried to pull the covers over him.
"You're gonna sit here, in front of me", he spread his knees and glanced down to the space on the bed he'd made between them. "Come on", he added when she gave him a questioning look. He helped her maneuver to between his legs, and then he pulled he covers up over her, leaving her hands out with her mug. He reached over and took a sip from his drink before grabbing the laptop and opening it, she heard a few clicks behind her and then he reached around her to set the laptop down in front of them.
"Scooby Doo?" She let out a small giggle as the cartoon started to play.
"Mhmm", Dean hummed, "the best for the best". She took a drink from her mug and was about to ask him why she needed to sit in front of him when she felt his hands on her shoulders. Knowing she was going to object to him doing something nice for her, he interrupted her before she could say anything.
"You're gonna let me help you to relax. I don't want to hear anything about you not deserving it, I don't want to hear anything about you not needing help. You've had a bad day, I can make it better, so let me". He began to knead his knuckles into her shoulders and it felt far too good, and she was also too tired to argue with him. She just nodded and took another sip from her drink, her mood lifting as she felt the vibrations of Dean's chuckle at a joke from the cartoon in front of them. His hands slowly moved to her neck, working out all of the knots he could find. He took his time with it, he wanted to make sure he was as thorough as possible. He gently pushed her forwards so he could work on her back. He slipped his hands up under her pyjama top, his hands were warm and though his skin was rough, his touch was gentle. He worked up and down, listening as her breathing became slower as episodes of the show played one after the other.
He had to wrap his hand around her front to stop her from slumping forward as she finally fell asleep. He grabbed her empty mug from her hands and put it beside his own, then reached forward to close his laptop and move it to the beside table too. He carefully slid back in the bed to lie down, pulling her down with him and turning her over to lie on her side facing away from him. He turned over and wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her back against his chest so he could spoon her.
He'd had a tough day too. His trip with Sam out to see Donna hadn't gone so smoothly. The Impala had burst a tyre on the way there, the coffee he'd bought after had burnt his tongue, and the pie he'd ordered for lunch had mould on it. Donna had needed help with a simple ghost which should've been a breeze for them, but had managed to lock Sam out of the house straight away, making him useless, and had knocked Dean out the window into a dumpster. He'd needed to take three showers at Donna's after before the smell disappeared. He hadn't even had the energy to drive home so he'd had to give Sam the keys. Sam had insisted on playing his own music since he was the one driving, and as a result, the drive had felt three times longer than it actually was. When he'd finally got back to the bunker, all he wanted to do was see [Y/N]. He thought he'd have a chat with her then head off to bed, but when he saw how sad she seemed, he needed to take care of her. Every sip she'd taken from her drink, every giggle the cartoon had given her, every knot he'd worked out from her back, released some of his own tension.
He'd needed this quality time just as much as she had, and he would have the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time with her tucked safe and warm in his arms. He was sure that Sam would have fixed the hot water by the time they'd wake up in the morning, and then they could both start their next day right.
The end