Abducted: Part Three (SPN | Dean x Reader )

Chapter 13: Southern Comfort

June 2015

When you awoke again, the room was dark, save for the light that came from the television screen mounted to the wall and the red glow that came from the alarm clock on the other side of Dean. He was still next to you, still wearing his jeans and seeming, sound asleep himself. You could see through the darkness when his chest rose and when it fell and you could hear the soft breaths he made as it did so.

Sam was nowhere in sight but there were clearly bags of takeout and empty beer bottles on the table and you began to wonder how long you'd been out of it for this time. The clock on the bedside table was at the wrong angle and you couldn't quite make out the number correctly. As for your phone, you had no idea where it had ended up since Mrs Markham had used you as a punching bag. It could be in the car for all you knew, or somewhere in the room so you couldn't check it either.

Your head was less throbby than it had been, thank god, but you were yet to sit up and knew there was a possibility that that could make a huge difference. No doubt your body would ache a little too but it was your bladder that was controlling you right now and getting up was unfortunately something you needed to do. Mother Nature was a calling and she was growing impatient.

Trying not to wake up Dean was futile but you still attempted not to anyway, taking his arm that was draped over your stomach and gently moving it to rest up next to his face. You then pushed yourself up, 'fuck', there it was, the pain you'd been expecting. And there he was, Dean, up like lighting and now sitting with you.

"Sweetheart," he drawled with sleep. "Watcha doin'?"

You whispered an apology and patted him on the shoulder. "Go back to sleep, I'm just getting up to pee."

How stupid you were to think that he'd listen to you, even if he was half asleep. Very apparently. Because he swung his legs over the side of the bed immediately to stand up and man, you wished you were as agile as him after a fist fight.

"Dean, you don't need to..." you began.

"Ah, yeah, I do. I'm not risking you hitting your head again. Let's go." The words would sound harsh and unkind to anyone but you or Sam but you heard the nuance of care though his sleep fuelled speech and any thoughts of being annoyed by the unsolicited help flew out the window.

Dean moved around to where you still sat and took your arm gently, helping you to stand up. He then slid it round your waist, making sure you were steady on your feet before walking with you over to the bathroom on the other side of the room. "How're you feeling?" his voice still came across as a grumble.

"Much better." That was the truth. You were. Perhaps a little too much emphasis on the 'much' but he didn't need to know that.

"The aspirin did its thing huh?"

"Yeah," you agreed.

When you reached the doorway to the bathroom, the light next to it was flicked on and he continued to escort you inside the small space. Moving you to stand before the toilet and then moving himself to lean back against the wall opposite it with his arms crossed.

He wasn't planning to stay with you, was he? That was something you hadn't done before and another thing you weren't ready for either. "Babe? You're not going to stay in here too, are you?" When his brow raised at you in questioning, you insisted, "I'll be fine."

Dean nodded his head silently in agreement and slithered out the door slowly, pulling it with him but leaving it slightly ajar. "I'm right here. Just, be careful alright."

"I'm just peeing," you called back to him. And you considered yourself lucky that was all you needed to do at the moment.

You loved that he was being overly protective and you figured in instances like these, it was okay that the apron strings were still tied. But you intended to keep them at a distance, especially when you were one hundred per cent in the future and not concussed.