**Warnings** Angst, Language, SPN level violence. Hurt Dean, Hurt/comfort fic. Think that’s everything.
Word Count: 1794
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam x Dean (Not Winchset)12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcpxYpflytK
12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEtiB3gbdis
Dean’s POV:
Tired wasn’t the word for what Dean was feeling throughout his whole body right now. There wasn’t a spot on him that wasn’t sore or didn’t feel like he’d been nailed with a sledgehammer. He knew he’d be covered in bruises in the morning, and if he was already this sore, then by the time he woke up he was going to barely be able to walk in the morning at all.
He’d been in this shape before, it wasn’t the first time some freak had kicked his ass. There were a lot more vamps in the coven than what they’d expected, and they’d almost got the jump on him. If Sammy wouldn’t have shown up when he did, well…
Still, he was determined to not let it show just how bad he was hurting right now. Standing his aching body up as straight as possible he poured the last of the gas from the small can into the doorway of the house, struck the match, and tossed it inside before closing the front door. Torching the evidence was the fast way to go, and he needed this job to be over with so that he could get them back to the Lawrence before the soreness and stiffness won out over his own resolve, and they’d be stuck in this town for days.
“Come on Sam, get the lead out of your ass!” Dean yelled over his shoulder as he walked as straight as he could to the car.
Sam came trotting up to the passenger side of the impala, both men looking back at the burning house over before sliding in a shutting the door, pulling out of the driveway, and headed toward the city limits as fast as they could without getting caught. Dean was more than ready to put this little Podunk town behind him. Even though his body protested against him with every moment he was determined to make it back to Lawrence tonight, even if it killed him.
She would be waiting for him when came through those doors, and that’s all he could think about. Getting back to her…
Your POV:
Sitting on the porch of the small house you’d been living in since moving to Lawrence Kansas, you held the cup of coffee that was steaming in your hands tighter to your chest like you could channel the warmth from the drink into your body to cut through the chilly night air.
It wasn’t completely dark yet, just dusk.
You couldn’t get used to this hunter life. When you meet dean, he’d told you he was just a traveling salesman selling health insurance. About a year into your very odd relationship though, he stumbled through the front door of your house bloody, and with a dislocated shoulder.
That’s when you got the shock of your life.
You almost left him that night. It wasn’t one of your proudest moments.
The shock of learning that all the shit that goes bump in the night is real and that your boyfriend hunts them and kills them, combined with the fact that he’d lied to you for over a fucking year and didn’t open up to you about what he really was doing, laced with the, one day he may not come home, and it was almost too much for you to handle.
Even though you packed your bags you couldn’t leave. You loved him too much.
So every time he’d disappear with his brother to work on another ‘case’ as he called them, you’d pace the front porch and check the phone every few minutes until you heard from him again. You never really relaxed until he was back in your arms. This was just something you were going to have to learn to live with. You loved him too much to walk away.
Your phone dinged in the pocket of your favorite, oversized, fluffy robe that you wore when you needed some sort of comfort, and Dean was unavailable.
Pulling it as quickly out of your pocket as you could you breathed a sigh of relief you didn’t realize you were holding when the phone rang.
Dean: On my way home sweetheart. See you soon.
Dean’s POV:
“Let me drive Dean so that you can get some rest..”
“No Sam, I’m fine! We only got about fifteen minutes and we’ll be home. Why the hell would I pull over now?”
“Your hurting Dean, Let me drive you the rest of the way. I’ll drop you off at the bunker, then I can go pick up Y/N if you want…”
“No Sam, now that’s the finale. I’m fine. I’ve had worse. I’m just a little sore, and ready to get out of this car. I’m not about to stop the car and prolong this trip any longer just so you can drive for the remainder of what’s now probably only about a 13 minutes drive!”
Throwing his hands up in the air Sam gave up, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. Well, the best he could anyway. He didn’t know if it was the position he was sitting in, or if his ribs were broken, but about an hour into the drive they’d started screaming at him in an ugly way, and it started getting hard to hide the fact that he was so uncomfortable to his little brother who then became increasingly annoying as Dean’s discomfort seemed to increase.
The last 15 minutes of the journey seemed to feel like 15 hours. Finally, Dean saw the bunker. Pulling the car in front of the door, throwing it in the park he looked over at Sam, not saying anything, just giving him the look of 'get the fuck out of my car I want to go home to my girl,’ or at least he was hoping that was the look he was portraying, and he didn’t just look constipated…
“You’re not serious? Dean looks at you, you are basically panting in pain! You’re not really going to drop me off here, then drive to Y/N’s house!”
Dean said nothing, just continued staring, wishing he could reach across the seat and slap him, but his ribs protested too much. He was pretty sure his left ankle had been dislocated as well, so that ruled out leverage.
Sam shook his head and jerked the car door open. “You know I can go get her and bring her to you."
Dean said nothing, just threw the car in reverse and looked at Sam waiting for him to shut the door.
"I swear sometimes you’re just like dad,” he said, shutting the door like a little child, and stalking off toward the bunker.
He’d be fine. Elaine was waiting there for him, he didn’t know that yet, but Dean saw the tail of her car parked just next to the garage, safely hidden in the bushes. She’d keep him company.
Dean knew that they had been secretly seeing each other for about a month now. They needed some time alone together. It was good for him. Even if for whatever reason he didn’t want to tell him.
Getting back out on the main road Dean only had one goal in mind. Getting to his girl.
Your POV:
You’d been pacing the floor now for what felt like an absolute eternity. You were pretty sure this is what hell felt like even though you’d never been there. The time between knowing he was heading home, and hearing the sound of that impala he loved so much pull up in your driveway was the most agonizing part of waiting on Dean to return from a hunt.
Looking at the clock for what felt like the thousandth time your chest heavy with anxiety. You knew you could never ask him to hang up his hunting boots. He’d done too much good. Saved too many people. This is who he was, you knew that when you signed up to stay for this. Still, that didn’t make it any easier.
Finally, when you thought you couldn’t take another second you heard baby purring her way down your driveway.
“Thank God!”
You breathe the second sigh of relief that night. He was okay. He was home.
Pulling the door open you run out of the door of your little house as you see the door open on the impala. Dean didn’t get out. Fuck.. Something was wrong. Running your way down the steps to the car your blood ran from your face as soon as you saw him.
He was beaten up worse than you’d ever seen him. He looked at you with one of his eyes almost swollen shut, holding his body at a strange angle, taking shallow breaths as he leaned against the steering wheel.
“Dean? Baby, what happened? Look at me!”
How the fuck he made it to your house from the bunker you’d never know. Sheer stubborn grit.
Rolling his head around, his eyes finally meet yours. He gave you a weak smile. Taking the last little bit of grit he had left in him to stand to his feet and lean outside the car, arms reaching for you instinctively. You didn’t care that he was filthy, all that you cared about was that he was here, and he was safe.
“I probably need a bath,” he mumbled as you lead him into the house.
Your neighbor was watering the bushes between your two houses, looked at Dean like he’d seen a ghost. Dean gave him the finger and you had to cover the laugh that crept up to your lips.
“Fucking nosy old man,” he said as you reached the front door. “Do I look that rough?”
“Yeah babe, you look pretty bad."
You couldn’t help laughing at his sarcastic bitchface that he gave you, or well the best one he could in his current state. As long as Dean had his wit you knew he would be fine.
—————————————————-
Three hours later the two of you lay in bed, the room dark, all but the TV playing some stupid movie that you couldn’t even remember the name of. Dean was sleeping peacefully with his head on your chest, and his arm and leg threw over you. You still were playing with his soft, freshly washed hair. Just enjoying the feeling of his body warming yours.
You were pretty sure his ribs were fractured, still, he wouldn’t go to a hospital, saying he’d had worse, and he could just sleep it off. He was always stubborn to a fault, but he was yours, and nights like this, just the two of you, it made all the waiting and fear worth it. He was worth it. He’d always be worth it…
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