In-Air Comfort

Late Night Comfort

You wake up to an empty bed, and a spread of crackers, soup and an electrolyte drink on your nightstand. As you slowly try to fill your stomach your mind drifts back to when Dean was holding you and feeding you this same meal just days ago. You reach for your phone and call your caring, green-eyed fiancé to thank him for the meal; he answers on the second ring.

"Hey baby, where are you?"

"Just out ... I thought I'd uh give you some space. But uh, make sure you eat and drink as much as you can. I'll come back soon and pick you up and we can hit the road again," he says before hanging up.

You really were pushing him away, you wonder just how long before he leaves you completely.

What if he asks me to move out of the bunker? Where would I go? I'd literally be barefoot, potentially pregnant and on the street with all the evil. At least if grief doesn't kill me something else will. I wouldn't suffer long.

It's not long before Dean walks in, interrupting the voice in your head. He notices you've barely touched the food or drink and almost slips onto the bed beside you, but he stops himself a few steps short.

"You ready to go?"

You look down at the food and drink in your lap hoping he'll take the hint and come and hold you like the other day, but when he stays put you just nod and move it all back to the nightstand.

"Where's Sam?"

"Waiting in the car. Get dressed and you can meet us out there, and you're riding shotgun so I can keep an eye on you. You can push me away all you want and I promise I'll try to stop being so smothering, but you can't ask me to stop worrying about you."

You look up just in time to see his red-rimmed eyes before he turns around and walks outside. Leaving you naked, nauseous and alone in the cold room. You quickly stand up and get dressed, grabbing the drink and crackers along with your bag before leaving.

You curl up and lean against the window, cradling the drink and crackers in your lap as you let the classic rock music and steady purr of the engine wash over you for the next few hours. You keep your eyes fixed on the road ahead of you, not daring to look at your concerned fiancé. But you can feel him looking at you every so often, but he never makes a move to touch you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It's well after dark when Dean finally parks the car in the bunker's garage. You're slow to get out, stretching every one of your stiff, sore muscles as you do. You toss the empty packet and bottle in the bin as you pass, moving to your and Dean's room. You almost stop a door short debating whether to sleep alone. But you can't pass up the comfort of having the older hunter beside you, even if he refuses to cuddle. When he joins you in your room moments later the tension in the air is thick. You can tell there's so much he wants to say but like you, he's too scared to open his mouth.

You turn to grab one of his flannels and a clean pair of underwear from the drawers when he finally breaks the silence. "Please, just tell me where I went wrong?"

Your heart sinks at his words. Dropping the clothes you rush over to him with tears in your eyes, taking his hands in yours. "Nothing, nowhere, baby."

"Really? Because you can barely look at me anymore, let alone talk to me. I had to all but beg you to touch me. I know I suck at the dating thing, and I'm obviously even worse at the fiancé thing. Just tell me what to do. Please ... please just tell me how to fix it."

Tears fall down both of your cheeks. "You can't ..." As the words leave your mouth he tries to pull away but you tighten your grip. "You can't fix it because you didn't break us ... I did. I've been so scared of losing you that I didn't realise how much I've actually been pushing you away." You lead him towards the bed urging him to take a seat beside you. You turn to face him as he follows you, never letting his hands out of yours.