In-Air Comfort

Post-Hunt Comfort

"You smell amazing, sweetheart. Did you enjoy that bath bomb? I'll have to buy another one so I can enjoy it with you next time."

A small smile graces your face at his words; he always knows exactly how to make you feel better. You move your head slightly, and Dean takes full advantage of the extra available skin.

"I can't wait to get you back to the bunker. It's been way too long, baby girl," he groans lowly into your neck.

Suddenly, you feel super aware of your surroundings and how on show you are, with Sam and Cass sitting at the table across the room talking. You can feel Dean's growing excitement against your thigh through his jeans. "Dean, baby."

Dean pulls away reluctantly and looks up at you, he groans. "I know, I know. I'm gonna go have a cold shower, then we can cuddle and get some sleep."

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You wake up to the feeling of Dean's lips on your neck and his hands tickling the bare skin of your stomach where your tank top had ridden up overnight.

"Hmmm, I could get used to waking up like this."

"Good morning, beautiful, sleep well? How're you feeling? You feel a little bloated still, how're your cramps?"

"I feel better, for now at least."

"I'm glad to hear that. What do you want for breakfast, let me take you out ... uh, if you're up for it. We haven't even properly celebrated our engagement yet."

"Dean..."

Dean helps you turn around in your arms before sitting up. He takes your left hand in his running his fingers over the ring. "You did mean it when you said yes, right?"

"What?"

"I mean, you've been a little distant ever since. You're not talking to me like you usually do. Are we okay? Did I move too fast? If you're not ready..."

"Dean, baby, of course, I meant it," you say as you take a quick glance around the room, finding the other bed, table and couch empty. You figure Sam must be out on his morning run so you climb onto Dean's lap. You wrap your arms around his neck as he just watches you. You bring your lips to him, pecking him lightly before deepening the kiss, Dean instantly kisses back. One hand holding the back of your head, pulling you closer while the other grips your waist, urging you to grind against his slight morning wood. Your lips are swollen and his hands are at the hem of your shirt pulling it up when you hear the doorknob turn. You pull away quickly and race into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. You hear Dean groan in frustration before you turn the water on.

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It's 6 pm when you pull into another dingy motel room in Dallas, Texas. Thankfully, you weren't here for a hunt, you just couldn't stand another 8 hours in the car yet, you needed a break. You were feeling uncharacteristically car sick, which luckily Dean was still attributing to your so-called terrible period.

Once you're all settled in the room Sam offers to go for a supply and dinner run, and you opt to go with him much to your fiancé's dismay. You knew that despite your best efforts this morning he was still feeling a little dejected. Every time your eyes meet in the rearview mirror during the day all you can see is concern. Those looks used to be filled with love and cheekiness. You were starting to worry that you would lose him. But you just didn't have the strength or energy to do anything about it. Between the waves of nausea, heartburn and your all-over-the-place emotions, you didn't have the capacity for anything that Dean wanted or needed from you, not to mention the lack of privacy.

As you walk through the gas mart with Sam you can't help but stop in front of the pregnancy tests, debating whether to take one. You know once you do there will be no hiding it from Dean, while you're not certain you can keep playing it off as a period with no bloody pads or tampons to dispose of. But you know if you bring the test back he will surely see it. You're just not sure you're ready for that conversation yet.

Just as you almost convince yourself to grab one, Sam comes up behind you. "You talk to Dean yet?"

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest, walking out of the aisle.

"What are you so afraid of? That he'll leave? Have you seen how he is with you? There's zero chance he does that! He's loyal to a fault and he loves you. Yeah, he might be a little shocked or concerned. But he'll also be so excited to take that jump with you. I know my brother, Y/N."

You know in your heart Sam is right, but you can't bring yourself to do it. You walk outside empty-handed and lean on Baby's hood while you wait for Sam to pay. Suddenly a wave of nausea hits you and you keel over emptying your lunch and stomach bile on the road. As you stand up, you look around taking in all the concerned and disgusted faces watching you from around the parking lot. You feel so sore and embarrassed and you can't stop the tears from falling. Within minutes Sam's arms are around you as he helps you into the car before moving around to the driver's seat.

You bring your knees up to your chest on the seat and bury your head into them during the silent drive back to the motel. When you get back you rush in, walking straight past Dean and into the bathroom locking the door. You brush your teeth and then strip before sitting on the floor in the shower and bawling your eyes out for what feels like hours.

You're not sure what Sam told Dean to stop him from barging in and holding you, but part of you is grateful. Part of you knows you're deliberately pushing him away out of guilt. But part of you wants nothing more than to confide in him and have him hold you tight while you cry and hold your hair back while you're sick.

After a while, you pick yourself up, wash your face and drag yourself out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. When you come out, Dean's sitting on one bed reading something on your laptop and Sam's on the other mirroring his actions. You cautiously make your way over to the bed where Dean's sitting slipping under the covers, not even bothering to remove the damp towel or get dressed. You sense Dean stiffen beside you, no doubt heavily debating the right move; whether to join you under the covers and hold you or give you space. In the end, giving you space wins out and you bury your head in the blanket as you silently cry yourself to sleep, still feeling sick to your stomach.

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