Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

I Want to Know What Love is

Dean x Reader

"Do you really think we should have left Dean on his own?" You asked Sam, nervously nibbling on your lip. "The man has hardly ever been sick in his life, and this flu bug has really hit him hard."

Sam sighed, his finger tapping on the steering wheel. "Y/N, I'm as worried as you are. But this hunt requires both of us. He'll probably sleep most of the time we're gone anyways."

Frowning, you shook your head. "No, I'm sorry Sam, but I can't just leave him there by himself. What if he gets worse? Or isn't lucid enough and falls and hits his head? He needs someone there to take care of him. To make sure he takes his medicine when he's supposed to."

"And you keep telling me you don't like him," Sam teased, before pulling over in the middle of the small town you were passing through. "Listen, I hate having Dean home by himself as much as you do. Who knows what mischief he'll get into. But I can't turn around and drive you the hour back. Think you can find the bus, take it as far back as possible? I'll call Garth, see if he can help me, even though I'd rather have you."

"Thanks Sam!" You exclaimed, climbing out of the car, taking your bag with you. "Be safe, give Garth a hug for me! I'll take good care of your brother."

"I have no doubt you will," he chuckled before driving away, leaving you to figure out which way the bus station was. Heading towards the main part of town, you dialed Dean's number, waiting nervously for him to pick up. "Come on Dean," you whispered over and over, growling low to yourself when he didn't pick up.

By this time you came across the small bus stop, the almost shack looking ticket booth getting ready to turn the open sign to closed. "No, wait!" You exclaimed, rushing over. "I need a ticket!"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but there's only one more bus coming, and it's not due for another hour," The man apologized.

"Where's it headed?" You asked, your fingers crossed.

"Lawrence. But no one goes there, it's just another boring town," he muttered.

"But I want to! This is perfect!" You exclaimed, pushing money out towards him.

With a sigh, he took your money, giving you a ticket in return. "There's a bench over there you can wait at," he told you before closing the shade, leaving you standing there.

Taking a seat, you tried Dean once again, frustrated and a little scared as to how Dean was doing.

The hour passed slow, much slower than you wanted with the sun slowly setting, the temperature cooling down. As soon as the bus pulled in front of you, you were climbing inside, grateful to be out of the cold. Relieved that you were finally on your way to Dean.

The bus was slow, much slower than any trip in the Impala, and you found yourself leaning against the window, your eyes drifting shut, dreaming of a time when Dean might finally realize how you felt about him. A daydream where you were actually brave enough to tell Dean how you felt. Where you could finally feel those plump lips against yours.

It was the sound of the bus breaking for its final stop that pulled you from your daydream, a dream that would never happen. Sighing, you stepped out of the bus, heading straight towards the drug store on the corner. Quickly picking out items that might help Dean, you began the long trek to the bunker, wrapping the blanket you had bought around your shoulders to ward off the coolness of the night.

It was almost midnight by the time you finally stepped up to the bunker's front door, weary and exhausted. Wanting nothing more than your bed even though you needed to see how Dean was before you did anything.

Struggling down the steps, you frowned at the noise you heard coming from the kitchen. Music blared, and the smell of something burning filled the air, and you raced the rest of the way down, hoping that Dean wasn't going to burn the bunker down.

"I want to know what love is," Dean sang, horribly off key as you stepped into the kitchen. Dressed in nothing but a pair of socks and his slim black boxers, it took you a minute to pull your gaze away from his bare chest, and up to his face.

He held a wooden spoon up to his lips, never looking towards the doorway. "I want you to show me!"

A bubbling mess was on the stove, creating that awful smell, and you raced over, turning it off before it scalded the pan any further. "Dean, what's going on?" You exclaimed, as he turned to face you, a crooked smile on his face.

"I want to know what love is," he sang again, stumbling towards you, and that's when you saw the bottles behind him. One bottle of liquid medicine, along with a half empty bottle of whiskey.

"Dean, please don't tell me you drank all of that," you muttered as he came up to you, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you tight to him. "I want you to show me," he slurred again.

Even though you knew his words were said while drunk, they still brought heat to your cheeks, and you wished it was real. "Dean, you're drunk, and sick. Let's get you in bed."

Seeing the feverish flush on his cheeks, you placed your hand on his forehead. "Dean, you're burning up!"

"Burning up for you," he muttered cheesily, leaning forward to kiss you. Turning your head, you felt his lips brush against your cheek. Wishing that he was saying these things while lucid. "Dean, come on. Let's get you into bed."

"As long as you're there with me," he groaned, his hand slipping down to squeeze your butt and you had to stifle back a squeal. "Dean!"

Moving so suddenly you had no idea what he was up to, he picked you up, easily carrying you down the hallway as if he wasn't sick. Holding on, hoping he wouldn't drop you, he kicked open the door to his room, dropping you onto his mattress.

As you struggled to sit up, he began singing off key once again, singing the foreigner song you had always secretly loved. "Dean, you need to lie down," you started to tell him when he fell flat on his face beside you.

Sighing, you made sure he was breathing, turning him over so you could get the covers over him. Standing up to leave, you were stopped by him grasping your hand. "Stay Y/N, please," he mumbled, his lips pouting, his eyes still closed.

"Fine, for a little bit," you conceded. Slipping your shoes off, you climbed in beside him, when he immediately cuddled in to your side, his head resting on your chest. Running your fingers through his hair, you heard him start to snore softly, fast asleep. Trying not to think too much about him wanting you to stay with him, you closed your eyes, relaxing and falling asleep.

________________

It wasn't until your personal heater rolled away that you finally woke up. Taking a couple of minutes to rub your eyes, you saw Dean had rolled to his side, the blanket bunched at his waist. Reaching up, you touched his forehead, relieved to feel that his fever had gone down.

Slipping out of the room, you quickly sent a text off to Sam, before pouring a glass of water, taking some aspirin and crackers back with you to his room. Placing them on the nightstand behind him, you turned to leave, when his voice, cracked and deeper than normal spoke up. "Y/N, you're here."

"Yeah, I came back last night," you explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I was worried about you."

"I think I remember," he muttered, running his hand along his mouth. "I remember you letting me sleep against you, but that's it."

"You decided to take some medicine and some alcohol. Never a good mix," you chastised him. "But you're looking better now, so I'm going to go take a shower. Then maybe make some chicken noodle soup for you."

Turning to leave, you were once again stopped by Dean grasping your hand. "No, stay," he insisted. "Y/N, I know I was drunk and sick last night, but I think it finally gave me the courage to tell you how I feel. I truly want to know what love is. And I want you to show me," he winked at his cheesiness.

Giggling, you raised an eyebrow. "You promise not to sing anymore?"

"Of course!" He exclaimed.

"Then yeah, I'll join your cheesiness. Because I've been wanting to tell you how I've felt for quite some time now."

"Good," he yawned. "Now come back to bed."