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Dean washed his hands and closed the motel room’s door behind him. He twisted the handle twice to make sure that it was locked. He turned left and knocked on the room next door. When your voice acknowledged him, he entered to check in on you.
“Hey- Everything good?” He looked around; the usual routine. Checking every nook and cranny to make sure everything was safe.
You nodded, sitting on one of the single beds, “Yeah, I’m okay,” You bandaged your ankle.
You were by no means a hunter. You were a researcher but the brothers needed on ground, on-the-go help so you went with to help and now you had a twisted ankle and some scrapes because of how everything went to shit at the last minute.
“Hey, I’m sorry you got wrapped into this.” Dean sat on the edge of the bed, taking your foot into his hands gently, unwrapping the bandage and redoing it properly.
His own hands were bruised and scraped but you knew he’d never let you tend to him. Never let you fix his injuries. You could see it in his hunched shoulders, his avoidance of meeting your eyes. He was blaming himself for you getting hurt. He was waiting for you to blame him for it too. And in a twisted way, he felt like his own cut open knuckles was karma. That he deserved the dull throb. The pain that was set so deep in his bones that he no longer realized it wasn’t supposed to be there.
“How’s Sam?” You decided to change the subject.
“He’s okay. Sleeping it off.” His voice was soft but his jaw was tight. It was obvious he was blaming himself was that too.
“Hey-” You placed your hand over his, “When did you last eat?” You knew you couldn’t just tell him it wasn’t his fault. It was just circumstances that collided together.
Dean’s hands froze. Not at your touch, but at your question. His green eyes snapped up, meeting yours, a strange question in them as his brows knitted together in confusion.
“What?” The only word that left him in a whisper.
“When did you last eat?” You asked again, “Was it before we went out? Or even longer?”
“I-” He paused, unsure how to answer, “I ate.” He swallowed, looking down again, wrapping your ankle and pulling away.
“When?” You repeated yourself more firmly. “Dean, look at me. When?”
He sighed softly, rubbing his hands over his face and then running them through his hair, ruffling them slightly.
“I dunno. Been a while. Before we left, I guess.” He shrugged, fixing his shirt, “But it’s fine, really- I had one of Sammy’s disgusting granola bars on the drive back-” He forced his usual charming smile, “Trust me, I’m fine -”
“Dean…” You frowned, trying to reach for him but he pulled back even more and stood up.
“I’m fine, really.” He said it again, but it felt like he was convincing more himself than you.
“Okay, okay-” You leaned back, your hands raised in surrender, “But I was gonna order something for myself so, do you want something?” You lied easily, leaning over to get your phone.
He swallowed dry and stood stock still.
The truth was that he wasn’t sure how to do this. No one ever asked about him. That wasn’t the normal he was used to. He was supposed to look out for everyone. Not the other way around.
“I could- Yeah-” He cleared his throat, walking over to sit on the other single bed. “I could eat.” He nodded, praying that his stomach didn’t make a sound.
You smiled at him. Not in a aha! way but more of a, thank god way. “So, what do you want? Pizza? Burger? Tacos?” You scrolled through your phone.
“I could go for a burger.” He nodded, “And pie-”
“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “I’m not a complete monster.”
Your comment made him smile a little. It didn’t reach his eyes but it was something at least. You placed the order and set your phone down, leaning back against the headboard with a soft sigh. Dean sat across from you, arms now crossed over his chest like he was bracing himself for an invisible wave. He didn’t quite know how to be still. Didn’t know how to let himself exist in silence without doing something.
“You can be tired, you know.” You spoke softly. “You can eat and sleep. You are allowed to have a human moment to yourself.”
Dean’s jaw clenched, it made a muscle tick underneath his skin. He didn’t answer, simply choosing to look everywhere else but you.
After a few seconds, his shoulders sagged a little. He didn’t acknowledge what you’d said. And you knew that he never would. But in this moment, he simply existed without the weight of the world on him.
You didn’t push. You didn’t expect a confession or even a thanks. With Dean, things were quieter. Smaller. His way of opening up wasn’t with words. It was in the way his body eased out of fight mode for just a fleeting moment. The way his shoulders dropped, the set of his jaw relaxed, his hands stopped fidgeting.
After twenty minutes of soft silence, there was a knock on the door and his shoulders tenses again. He got the food for the delivery boy, setting everything on the small table in the corner.
“Come on, princess.” He helped you stand and you hobbled to the table.
He didn’t eat. You knew he would be starving by now but he didn’t five into it. Not before setting everything up infront of you. Once he was sure , that you were good to go, then he bit down on his burger.
He didn’t eat like a man starved, but definitely like someone who hadn’t realized how empty he was until the first bite hit his tongue. The burger disappeared quickly and the fries followed. And when he opened the pie container and saw the generous heap of whipped cream, something in his face cracked the smallest bit- his mouth twitching into a real smile. Just for a moment.
He was done with his food much faster than you. And Dean wasn’t built to sit idle. So, he started to fidget again. Move around and clean up. You finished yours and before you could even offer to help, the table had been cleared out.
He stood in the middle of the motel room, looking around.
“I’m gonna check on Sam real quick.” He gave a nod and left the room.
You hobbled off and laid in the bed again. Getting comfortable and counting the minutes until he came back.
It was exactly 7 minutes and 23 seconds.
“Hey- He’s definitely down for the night.” He was mostly talking to himself at this point. Locking and rechecking the door, the windows and such again. You hummed and nodded, anyway, though. “You should sleep too and I’ll-”
“You need to rest too, Dean.” You cut him off.
“But I-” He started again, but you shook your head.
“Sam’s asleep, he can take care of himself. Both rooms are secure. We’re safe. What else do you need to do, hm?” You asked, patting the small bed space on your single. “Come on. Just rest your eyes for a minute, yeah?”
Dean hesitated, glancing toward the door like it might demand something of him. But then, with a sigh, he sat beside you. Then slowly, so slowly , he scooted down. One arm tucked behind his head, the other resting across his stomach. But the boots stayed on. Of course they did.
“Just five minutes, okay? And you’ll wake me up?” He asked softly, his eyes bright and hopeful. Something you rarely saw.
“Just five minutes.” You agreed, lying easily.
The clock ticked. The sound was accompanied by the whir of the AC unit and the buzz of the mini fridge. All of it concocting to soft white noise. Slowly, he started to relax. His arm finding its way around your thighs, his face pressed against your stomach.
He looked younger like this. He always did. Calm. Without a worry.
Your fingers played at his hair softly. Soothing him further into sleep. You stayed leaning back against the headboard, falling asleep sitting up. Because in this moment, Dean was choosing to sleep. Choosing to trust you to hold him as he slept. As his hands clenched if a nightmare plagued him. Choosing to let him just be without expectations.
And that was greater than any love letter, or any thank you , he could ever say.