Falling (Dean Winchester)

When he holds my hand

Dean Winchester isn't supposed to come home early on Friday afternoons. He has never done so before, so there's no reason that he'll do that now. He's supposed to be at a bar somewhere or maybe hanging out with Castiel and Benny. He's not supposed to go straight home, and above all, he's not supposed to find you crying your heart out on the living room's couch. However, that's exactly what happens after you just received news about your grandmother's passing. When he sees you lying down with tears in your eyes, he suddenly freezes. You try to control your whimpers unsuccessfully, so instead, you decide to bury your head on the pillow. You're so sad you don't even have the strength to feel embarrassed or to think about leaving to your bedroom. Dean approaches hesitantly your curled form on the couch.

"Are you- what happened?" You give it to him, he's brave for trying to make you feel better instead of just running away. And yet, you don't answer his question, you're too deep in pain to do anything but cry. For a few seconds, nothing happens, but then you feel a hand on your shoulder in a comforting manner. "I- is this about your grandmother?"

This time, his comment catches your attention enough to look up at him. "How- how do you know?"

Dean has the decency to look ashamed. "Cas told me your grandmother was sick." Well, that's the downside of having shared friends with him.

"Yes," you murmur. With the back of your hand, you try to clean your cheeks from the tears' moisture. "I received a call this afternoon about her passing."

Dean looks down at his lap sadly. "I'm sorry, I know how much she meant to you."

You laugh lightly and humorlessly, "did Cas tell you that too?"

"No," he shakes his head, "I could see it when she came to your graduation."

You're surprised by his words; by the fact that he noticed the relationship between you, considering he only saw her once and a long time ago.

"Well, she's dead now." Your voice is hollow and cruel.

To your surprise, Dean doesn't bat an eye at your harshness. "Are you going to the funeral?"

"No, I can't."

He furrows his brows, "did your boss not give you time off?"

"He did, but the funeral is going to be at her hometown, nearly a day's drive from here, and my car's still in the repair shop." You take a deep breath to stop yourself from going back to crying. "You know Charlie doesn't have a car, and Meg's busy with work."

"What about Ruby?"

You huff, "she's still mad at us for taking Sam's side when they spit up." Ruby can be quite of a bitch if she wishes to.

Dean nods his head in understanding, "Okay." Then, he stands up abruptly, "let's go then."

You blink up at him, confused. "Go where?"

"To your grandmother's house, of course." He doesn't wait around for you to get the meaning of his words, instead, he walks to the stairs. "I'm just gonna get a duffle with a change of clothes for the road. You should pack, too. Don't worry, it'll only take a few minutes, and then we can head out to be on time for the..."

"Wait, wait, wait." You're standing in front of him, blocking his path to the upper floor. "You're... taking me to her funeral?" It sounds more like a hopeful request than a question. Dean's eyes soften, and that's something you don't think you've ever seen before.

"Yeah, now c'mon, hurry up."

And you do exactly just that. In a backpack, you dump a bunch of clothes and underwear hastily. You're closing your bag when you think better of it. In your closet, there's a beautiful black dress. It's nothing fancy and not completely fit for a funeral, but it's what you have. So you throw it in too, along with some heels. When you come back downstairs, Dean is already waiting for you by the door. He doesn't say a word as you follow him to the Impala. It's so weird climbing into the passenger seat of the car. You've never been there, not even in the backseat. The interior is as polished and well taken care of as the outside. It faintly smells like pine and Dean. Oddly enough, it settles your nerves and calms your crying. By the time you cross the interstate, you're already asleep.

...

It's not the purring of the Impala or the soft rock music playing that wakes you. No, it's the smell of coffee and doughnuts. Your eyelids are heavy and the sun coming from the window is annoying.

"Rise and shine, sunshine." Dean's voice calls from the driver's seat. "Here's your cup and some doughnuts. I stopped by a Gas N Sip earlier."

Everything comes to you like an avalanche. The call at work about your grandma's death. Your boss letting you go home early and then you crying all afternoon until Dean's arrival. You had agreed to let him drive to your grandmother's house as soon as he offered. Then you fell asleep in his car and let him drive all night. Now, in the morning light, embarrassment floods into you. You would've never done this had you not been grieving.

"Why ah... why don't we switch for a bit?" You're not sure if he'll let you drive his Baby, considering how careful he's of the car. But it's better to suggest than offer to stop at a motel for him to sleep.

"Nah, don't worry, I've driven for longer periods of time."

Your nature towards Dean makes you want to say something snarky, you can't, he's being nice to you. "Alright, but how far away are we?"

He hesitates, "like six hours..."

"You've driven all night, six more hours is too much, don't you think?"

"Yeah...?" he sounds like a scolded child.

You sigh, "look, I won't hurt your car. I promise I'll take care of her ."

Dean looks at you from the corner of his eye, as if weighing your truthfulness. "Fine."

Despite his acceptance, he insists on you eating first. You do so grudgingly. Only after you're finished does he park the Impala to change sits. Diving Baby is distinctly different from your car. Considering it's old, it's smooth and comfortable. You're not surprised, though, Dean works a lot in his car. It's not even 10 minutes into the drive when he's already snoring softly beside you. Your guilt comes back stronger. All you've done since moving in with Dean is complaining about it, maybe not directly to his face, but you certainly did. And here he is, willing to skip on his life to take you to your grandmother's funeral...

Grandmother Esther was your father's mother. The service is being held at her home, and then you'll move to the graveyard. Five and a half hours later, you're parking the Impala at the house's entrance. From then on, everything becomes a blur. You receive condolences, greetings, and unnecessary hugs from people you don't even know. Through the haze, you lose Dean. The panic that sets within you is surprising, and you only calm down once you notice that he's by the kitchen talking to your cousin. Kate is pretty and tall, normally you would think they're flirting, but right now you don't care about that. And neither does Dean, because as soon as he sees you, he comes to you.

"Are you ok?" There's tenderness in his voice, or maybe pity, you're not sure.

"No."

After that, he doesn't leave your side. He rarely makes conversation with anyone, and you think maybe he's a bit uncomfortable, though he remains with you. If your parents notice the sudden closeness between you, they don't mention it. They know Dean, and they're aware you're not friends. But you don't think they comprehend the mixture of feelings he causes in you... you aren't sure you do.

"Why did you come here?" You ask Dean when you're taking a break in the garden. "Why did you agree to help me if we don't get along? If you... hate me?"

He looks at you, surprised. "I've never hated you."

His eyes are so green and sincere. "Good." You take a deep breath. "I've never hated you either, at least, I don't think so."

"Good." You don't miss the fact that he didn't answer all your questions, but you let it slide.

When his hand takes yours timidly, you don't pull away.