In-Air Comfort

Comfort Foods

"I've never seen it this bad before, are you sure you're okay? I know doctors are generally out of the question in our line of work, but if something's wrong-"

Just then, Sam barges in with a change of clothes, he's drenched in a layer of sweat from his morning jog. He stops abruptly when he sees the two of you on the floor. "Sorry. Y/N? You okay?"

You can hear the concern in his voice as you drop your head to Dean's shoulder, lacking the strength to hold yourself up.

"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you back to bed," Dean says as he lifts you up gently and carries you back to bed. When he sets you down he says, "just lay here and rest. I'm gonna go to the store and get you something to eat and drink that you might be able to keep down."

You reach for his hand. "The vamps-"

"You're more important. They'll still be there when you're feeling better."

"But more people will die-"

"As long as you're safe and well, that's all that matters to me right now. Now lay down, I promise I will be right back. I promised to look after you, and that's exactly what I plan to do." He softly kisses your hand, cheek and then forehead before standing up and heading out.

You lay there just trying not to cry. Sam exits the bathroom, freshly showered, before Dean gets back; he takes a seat on the end of your bed. "You still think it's nothing? Nausea and heartburn are common symptoms you know."

You just shake your head and roll over.

"I'm just saying, at this point, it may be worth talking to your fiancé about, or at least taking a test. Are you not seeing the way he's been around you? He's terrified of losing you. He was up before me this morning, and you know what he was doing, researching tricks to help with period pain. My brother's never done that sort of thing for anyone. He loves you and you're scaring him, so please stop torturing him and tell him the truth. He deserves that."

With that Sam stands up and goes to brew himself a coffee. You bury your nose in the sheets as the strong smell of coffee fills the room again. As you lay there waiting for Dean to come back you allow yourself to think about the real possibility of Sam's accusal. But when you think about it, you can barely even remember the last time you and Dean had sex. With constantly sharing a room or car with Sam there haven't been many opportunities. And you'd turned him down during the few recent chances. It had to have been at least three to four weeks. You had a patchy recognition of a drunken night in the women's bathroom at a bar; it was just flashes, kissing against the door, making out with him while sitting up on the sink, but you didn't remember much else. He always used a condom, he wasn't an idiot, but if you were that drunk then maybe he forgot. You felt sick at the thought.

Oh God! What if I am pregnant and we conceived during a drunken fuck in a grotty bar bathroom? Fuck!

Before you know it tears are running down your cheeks and Dean is kneeling beside you with bulging bags of groceries at his feet beside the bed. He pulls you close and gently wipes away your tears, kissing your head.

"Sweetheart, come on, don't cry. I've got you. You need to eat and drink something. Please, baby, don't cry. I'm right here, just let me help you feel better."

Although his words are comforting, they just make you cry harder.

What if Dean doesn't want a kid? What if he wants you to abandon it? What if he abandons you?

Your anxiety and inner thoughts make you cry harder despite the green-eyed hunter's kind words and soothing caresses. You try to block it out and rebut it with Sam's words from earlier.

"He's terrified of losing you ... He loves you."

Dean reaches down into the bags of supplies, pulling out: painkillers, electrolyte drinks, dry crackers, packet soup, pads, tampons, tissues, chocolate, and a cute stuffed bunny. He dabs away your tears with a tissue before opening one of the drinks and placing it against your lips. "Just a sip, please sweetheart, for me. It'll help you feel better, please."

You try to take a deep breath and stop your sobs so you can oblige him, but you let out an extra loud sob instead. Dean continues drying your tears, kissing you and coaxing you to drink. After a while, you finally manage to take a few small sips. Once Dean's content you're calm enough, he pulls out a cracker breaks it in half and feeds it to you. You manage to get through a quarter of the packet of crackers and half of the bottle without feeling too sick.

"Do you need to get changed or anything? I bought your usual stuff."

"I'm okay..." you rasp.

"Okay, well how about we watch a movie or have a nap then?"

"Dean, we actually need to talk..."

"We can talk later, right now you need rest. We can watch whatever you want, even chick flicks," he says as he brings up the Netflix browser on your laptop and places it on the bed in front of you.

You think about it as you scroll through the titles; you decide to try to hint at what's going on in your head and press play on Knocked Up. Dean lays you both down and repositions your laptop as the opening credits roll, not saying a word.

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