Part 6

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"You good?" Dean questioned, glancing between you and the road.

"What?"

"Are you hurt?" He asked, reaching across the space between you to pull open your sweater. He patted you down with his hand as he looked you over for any obvious signs of injury, but saw none and let go a heavy breath. His hand, still on your stomach.

"I'm fine," you said, shoving away his arm and wrapping yourself back into Mason's sweater. "I'm getting real tired of being manhandled though."

"Then stop getting yourself into situations that call for it." Dean grunted, turning his attention back to the dark road ahead.

"Excuse me but this whole domino effect started with you." You glared.

Now that you were feeling better and Dean was talking, you were starting to remember why you disliked him so much.

"Whatever you say, princess."

"Ugh, if you're gonna start with that princess shit again, I'm gonna need a drink." You groaned, rolling your eyes and punching the dial to turn off the radio.

You smirked to yourself when you noticed how Dean gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Obviously disapproving of you touching his car controls.

"Dido." He agreed.

You didn't realize when you started to shake. Probably from the shock of everything that had happened because you didn't feel all that more cold than usual. Dean sighed, turning up the heater in the car and aiming the vents he could reach towards you.

"You sure?" He asked, filling the empty air space.

"Sure about what?" You furrowed your brow at him and tucked your hands into your sleeves, curling the cuffs around your fingers.

"That you're alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Really? Because-"

"I said I'm fine, Dean, so I'm fine. Alright?" You snapped, you knew he was trying to be nice but honestly couldn't care at the moment.

"You don't sound fine." He pushed, a slight frustration in his voice as he rubbed the scruff on his jaw.

"Then stop listening... Turn on your fucking radio and leave me alone." You whined, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Fine, I will." Dean growled, punching the button for the car stereo and cranking it up.

"Great!"

You shifted in your seat to face the window, watching the outline of trees whip by the star filled sky. You were starting to get tired, the day weighing on you. 

"Great," Dean sighed heavily, shaking his head and glancing at you again. He palmed the scruff on his face roughly before dialling down the volume until the radio was just white noise, cutting through the thick air in the car. "I'm right here, Y/N, whether you wanna talk or not. I'm here."

He reached over grabbing your hand that rested on your knee and gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze. Normally, you would've ripped your hand away, but his palm was warm so, instead you gave him a nod of your head and a barely there smile. You'd be lying if you said you didn't need a little reassurance after everything and, so what if it was Dean holding your hand. His thumb brushed over the skin on the back of your hand, twice and then pulled away.

You'd come to realize that Dean wasn't a man of many words, not when they didn't need to be spoken. And still you understood him, or were beginning to. Small gestures like that meant more than just holding your hand. It was reassurance that he was there for you even if you didn't get along all the time, or ever. You just didn't understand why he was still here. Maybe he felt guilty, this whole mess was his fault after all.

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