The first few weeks of living at the bunker went surprisingly well. Everyone was respectful of your privacy, stayed out of each other's ways, and you even bought a TV for your room. Sure, whenever Dean catches you leaving for another hunt, he clenches his jaw and forces a smile, but it's better than the yelling.
Or so you thought.
A really nasty wendigo case left you scratched up and bruised more than you cared to admit. You were fine to drive back to the bunker, but you'd probably take a few days off to heal. When you got back, trudging down the steps, every movement hurt and made you wince, it was late at night, so you were just gonna crash but then a single light caught your eye. Dean was sitting at one of the tables with a half empty bottle next to him and a glass in his hand. He was pouring himself another, but you knew he heard you come in. He'd probably give you shit for disturbing him, so you turned to head for the hallway when he stopped you.
"Wait." He called out into the eerily quiet room, scaping his chair as he got up and walking slowly over to the entrance of the map room, "What did that?" He pointed to the claw mark across your face.
"Wendigo." You told him, lightly ghosting over it with your fingers and then his eyes trailed down your arm to the rest of the visible injuries.
"I know I'm not supposed to say anything-"
"Then don't." You cut him off sternly, turning and heading down the hall to your room.
"Y/n, wait!" He called out, sounding mad, and you just didn't want to deal with that tonight, so you shut your door.
You let your bag fall from your shoulder with a loud thud and you hissed as the strap hit your arm. You needed a shower. Maybe a few stitches. Definitely some peroxide or something too because that wendigo was a nasty mother. You stripped of your clothes, assessing the damage while you stayed in your underwear. You were dirty, smeared with blood, cut up, and a nasty bruise was developing on your ribs.
The door swung open and your eyes snapped up to him, noticing he was taking in your state.
"Don't you fucking knock, Winchester?" You spat, grabbing your shirt and throwing it back on.
He didn't speak, just came closer and you looked up at him, wondering what he was doing. He reached out slowly and when you didn't stop him, he lifted your shirt carefully over your head.
"Dean, what are you-" You stopped yourself when you saw the concern in his eyes, making you at a loss for words.
Now you wished he would just yell at you for being careless or whatever. That look was kind of pulling at you and you didn't like it.
You watched his face curiously as he paused to look at your chest before looking over your injuries. The only sound in the room was your and his breathing, making the moment more intense. His hand hovered over your waist, near your bruise and you winced slightly when he came into contact with it.
"Come on." He told you in a hushed tone, walking out of the room, and you followed him without grabbing more clothes.
Silently, you followed a few steps behind him to the bathroom, hugging yourself, trying to keep warm in the chilly hallway that had goosebumps sprouting on your arms.
When you both reached the bathroom, he let you walk in first, and to your surprise he came in too, closing the door behind him. You looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow as he took off his shirt and threw it to the side. He started unbuckling his belt and you stopped him.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," You put your hand near his and he looked to you, "I'm not saying you're not attractive, but I'm not even sure I can lift my arms above my head, so I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be a good time." You smirked and his cheeks dusted with pink at your words.
"I'm gonna help you shower." He said and your first reaction would be to yell at him to get out.
But the way he was talking made you believe him, and you weren't sure you could do it on your own, so you gave him a slight nod. He dropped his jeans and stepped out of them before your eyes landed below where his belt used to reside.
"Not today, sweetheart." He smirked and you scoffed.
"I didn't-ah, fuck you, and help me with this." You turned around and gestured to your bra so he could help you unclip it since your arms were in too much pain to move that way.
He unclipped it hesitantly, his hands brushing delicately on your back and making chills run down your spine.
After slipping out of your underwear, letting it fall to the ground while his back was turned, you kept your chest covered by crossing your arms as he turned the water on, letting the temperature adjust and when the steam started to fill the room, he stepped inside. He held his hands out to help you in and you knew you'd have to uncross them to take the invitation.
Taking a deep breath, you did just that, feeling his eyes on you, as you stepped into the shower. You couldn't help but moan when the water hit your front, Dean clearing his throat behind you. He took the shampoo, pumping some into his hand and lathering it in your now wet hair. You hummed at his motions, not caring if you'd be embarrassed later by how much he saw. Your cuts stung under the soap and water, but you only winced slightly, the pain being overridden by the pleasure of the steam and you'll admit, his hands.
You turned around, keeping your eyes closed and leaned your head back, letting the shampoo rinse out. You opened your eyes slowly as it finished and saw his darkened eyes on yours, making your breath hitch. He cleared his throat again before peeling his eyes off you and taking your loofah, squirting some body wash onto it. He kept his eyes on his hands after that, making sure to wash you thoroughly, being gentle on where you were bruised or cut. He watched the blood flow down the drain with a small cringe and you smiled lightly at his reaction. You knew he wasn't squeamish around blood, so maybe he cared about you at least a little.
He washed over your chest with care, not letting his eyes linger too long no matter how much restraint that took, running the loofah down to your hips and over your thighs. You sighed at how nice it felt and he smiled to himself. He was surprised you didn't stop him by now and he was shocked to realize you ditched your bottoms because his eyes stayed far away from that area until now.
"Maybe I am overdressed." He smirked and your face turned red, resisting the urge to pull him back up to eye level.
"Funny." You tried to sound irritated, but it came out shaky.
"I'll let you take care of that," He smiled cheekily, standing back up to tower over you, "Turn."
You slowly turned around and after he soaped up your neck and collarbone, letting the water wash away the suds, he kissed your shoulder with a feather like touch and you almost didn't feel it. But you did. Your eyes widened and you turned your head to look at him. He ignored your look and continued washing the rest of you. He was gentle on your back even though there were only one or two slashes and took his sweet time on your bottom.
"Alright, Winchester, I think it's clean." You mumbled and shivered when he laughed.
"Gotta be sure." He told you with another laugh and you couldn't help but to join him.
He let you finish up and got out while you rinsed off, toweling himself off and quickly fumbling out of his soaked boxers, wrapped a towel around his waist instead.
You quickly took the other towel off the hanger and started patting yourself dry. You wrapped it around your middle and offered him a grateful smile.
"Thanks for the help." You told him sincerely, walking up to him.
"Thanks for letting me help." His mouth quirked into a mischievous smile and you rolled your eyes playfully.
"Yeah, yeah," You smirked, "Next time you better be as naked as me."
You went out and left the door opened so he could watch you walk away.
"Next time?"
