Supernatural Stories and Imagines

Dean 11/ Locked Room

Prompt: Dean not knowing what to say after you both were locked inside a room in order to talk because you had a fight.

Sam had enough. Or so he claimed, anyway. He claimed to be sick and tired of listening to the screaming matches between you and Dean, with the slamming doors that followed next. Sam found you in the room you occupied on the nights' Dean and you weren't feeling like spending the night together, pacing back and forth with tears in your eyes. You were going to form a simple excuse but before you had the chance, Sam took your hand and led you to the drawing-room, used for creating plans, solutions, and finding hunts. Dean was sitting at the table, tense shoulders hunched forwards, pretending to read a book. You side-eyed Sam for an explanation and huffed with he continued to drag you further in the room until he had you sitting across from Dean. Finally, Sam stepped away as Dean looked at his brother, emotionless.

Sam cleared his throat and spoke. "You two need to resolve your issues and soon. We've been a team for years and for goodness sake, you're basically married already. It's time for some real communication and you're not leaving this room until whatever is going on is fixed."

You set an elbow on the table, running a hand through your hair and cast a quick glance at Dean before focusing on Sam. "Not to point out the obvious, but you can't just force us to talk right now if we don't want to." To make a point, you stood up. "So if you would excuse me, I'm going back to my room."

Sam sighed. "Okay, but you asked for this." He backed up to the door and held up a key. Dean pushed his creaking chair back and stepped towards his brother, realization dawning on both your features. As quick as can be, the two of you moved towards Sam. He managed to just duck behind the door. You went for the handle as Dean banged on the door. It clicked and locked.

"Sam! Open the door, you son of a bitch!" Dean yelled.

You shook your head and faced the table, setting your palms on the cool edge. Your back to Dean, you said, "He's not going to do it. You saw how serious he was."

"That's bullshit. He wants us to talk through our feelings? If I wanted to whine and complain about shit, I would. I should be able to sit and read a damned book if I please," he snapped. He hit the door another time before beginning to pace, still avoiding actually looking at you. You reached for and examined the book he claims to have enjoyed.

"Maybe Sam has a point, Dean. He shouldn't feel the need to be in the middle of our fights," you pointed out. You watched him roll his eyes and continue walking, moving past the table, examining the walls and bookshelves. His shoulders rolled up and down, clearly irritated.

"He's the one inserting himself into this mess. What the hell does he want me to say anyway?" Dean turned around. He shook his head and grabbed the book off of the table and put it back on the shelf, still avoiding your gaze.

"Maybe start with why you're so upset right now? Or just even sit down and look at me? Dean?" You prodded quietly. His words from earlier remained echoing in your ears. You shook them away and focused on why Sam had brought you here. There was a probable chance he was right. After all, you were tired of the yelling and misunderstandings.

Finally, Dean turned around. He nodded, slowly setting himself down into the seat across from you. His green eyes lost their fierceness as they took in your hands twisted nervously into each other on the table. The two of you finally made eye contact and it seemed Dean was at a loss for words. His mouth was slightly opened as if another snarky comment died on his lips. He wordlessly reached across the table and took your hands in his. You waited another few moments before getting ready to speak again when Dean blurted out.

"Honestly, Y/N, I'm exhausted." His shoulders sagged. His thumb ran distracted over your knuckles. Your throat felt tight as you deemed it your turn to stare elsewhere. You forced yourself to swallow your nerves. You glanced at the clock and were surprised to see only a few minutes had passed since Sam had locked you and Dean in here.

"I don't hear talking!" Sam yelled from the other side. His voice put you at ease and you couldn't help but smile. Dean shook his head and yelled, "Give us some privacy!" Sam laughed, though he sounded further away.

Dean's eyes met yours and they were crinkled, indicating he was hiding a smile as well. His voice was quieter with much more sincerity when he spoke to you. "Y/N... I don't know what to say. I can barely remember a time when things were simple between us. I am tired of the fighting. I'm tired of not getting along with you. Hell, I'm even tired of hunting most of the time. We're older and nothing is as easy as it used to be."

"So what do you want to do then?" You asked.

He paused again, glancing at the door then back at you. "I'm not sure. I think maybe we should get away for a while, go on a trip, just the two of us."

"You think we could manage not killing each other?" You remarked wryly.

Dean managed to crack a smile. "I do. And Y/N... I'm sorry."

You matched his smile. "I am too."

He stood up and you followed, barely having pushed the chair behind you when Dean engulfed you in a hug, nearly sweeping you off your feet and balance. His arms were tight around you as if he were never letting you go again. His face was buried in your hair, whispering a mix of 'I'm sorry', and 'I love you so much'. You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back. You knew that was where you belonged more than anywhere. Those arms were your safe space and you felt he was thinking the same.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. If I were going, you'd be by my side."