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Arguments: Dean #2

You and Dean Winchester did not argue much.

It was a rarity for the two of you to get into a fight. If you disagreed with one another, one of you would usually give in or not care enough to make a bigger deal out of it.

But when you did argue, however, it was loud and earth shattering and shook the entire bunker; and it was almost always about your job.

You were a doctor, specializing in the treatment of supernatural and paranormal injuries. You had your fair share of normal patients, but a majority of the people you saw day to day were either hunters or people who were in some way involved in the supernatural world.

You were widely known among the community as one of the best doctors to go to. And you prided yourself on that. You carried every antidote possible and had extensive supernatural knowledge.

You saved lives every single day.

But with your job taking up a lot of your time, you didn't hunt with your boyfriend Dean and his brother. Your heart didn't belong to hunting, it belonged to medicine and helping people.

Dean struggled to comprehend this, and it sometimes led to arguments. He wanted you hunting with him and his bother, an idea you refused over and over again.

You came home extremely late one night, eyes dropping and limbs heavy after a long day. You were ready for dinner and bed. Unfortunately, Dean began attacking you with questions the moment you stepped into the bunker.

"What took you so long? It's nearly midnight!"

You sighed, throwing your bag down and taking off your coat. "An emergency patient came in right before we closed. His leg was torn nearly clean off. I had to stitch him up and try to save the leg."

Dean shook his head, as if that wasn't a valid excuse. You rolled your eyes, heading to the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. Of course he didn't understand.

"I'm really not in the mood to fight tonight, Dean. I'm exhausted, I've been on my feet all day. I just want to eat something and go to bed," you pleaded as he watched you make yourself a sandwich.

Apparently it didn't matter how tired you were, because Dean pushed on anyways.

"You need to quit your job."

You froze mid-sandwich making and stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"You need to quit. You need to start hunting again, with me and Sammy. We can protect each other. That's much more important than your current job."

He spoke as if he was talking about something as mundane as the weather, not the flesh and blood of all your hard work.

"How dare you? I worked my ass off to get where I am today and I'm not about to throw it all away just because you get a little antsy. You know how I feel about hunting," you shouted.

Dean knew how much you disliked hunting, he knew how much you loved your job. He just didn't seem to care.

"This is not up for discussion. You're quitting."

You walked up to your boyfriend, looking him square in the eye. "You're right, this isn't up for discussion." You pushed him out of the way and walked past him.

You paused in the doorway of the kitchen, turning back to him. "If you ever threaten to take away my own decisions again, I will leave and you will never see me again." And then you were gone.

Dean stared at the empty doorway. Underneath his stone cold face, he was crumbling.

He messed up.

He messed up big time.