Supernatural One Shots~Requests open

DeanXReader

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Non-Stop Flight A-976, Delta Airlines, Pittsburgh to Seattle will be loading momentarily; Diamond, Platinum, and Gold members along with first class passengers, minors, and passengers with small children may line up for preboarding at this time.

Dean looked frantically around at the other passengers, his eyes flitting in between the small children and the elderly passengers, all of which seemed perfectly content with boarding the plane. “Dean, Dean!” 

Dean looked back to you, flushed. “Yeah?” 

"You’re cutting off the circulation in my fingers," You laughed and he released the death grip on your fingers. You stretched them out and patted his shoulder. 

"(Y/N), there are kids on this flight, toddlers. And see that girl over there,” He pointed to a young teen sitting with a flight attendant, “She’s flying by herself. By herself, (Y/N). What kind of irresponsible parent allows their thirteen year old minor fly by themselves?” Dean ran a hand down his face.

"When I was thirteen, I was booking my own flights and flying as a minor.” 

"Can’t we just take Baby?"

"No. I know you’re scared but we have to be in Denver and working in five hours, and it’s a twenty three hour drive with the traffic.” 

"I’m not scared. It’s just that the altitude makes me gassy," He looked away.

General Boarding, zone 6 can board at this time. 

"C’mon, Dean, that’s us," Dean looked at you like a wounded animal but followed you to the kiosk where your ticket was scanned, then onto the plane. "Do you want the aisle of the window?" He didn’t answer so you sat down closest to the window, looking out at the tarmac. 

Dean sat down and buckled immediately, pulling the strap until he was choking due to tightness. You looked at him over the top of your magazine; if Dean was a holy man, he would’ve been praying the rosary and throwing back holy water like shots of vodka. 

The plane rolled forward and Dean grasped the armrests in a death-hold. As the structure pressed down the runway, its speed multiplied, along with Dean’s anxiety. “Is it hot in here? Is the plane supposed to be hot, or cold?”

"When I was little, I was pretty anxious about planes, too, Dean."

Dean looked at you, exhausted and on edge, “How did you get over your fe- anxiety?”

"The flight attendants, the ones who’ve seen me more than once - most likely mothers - would sit by me and tell me to listen to my heartbeat. Apparently it helps with anxiety attacks and panic attacks."

The plane tipped upward and started the incline, you set your hand on his knee and he tangled your fingers together in a white-knuckled grasp.

"Here, Dean, give me your hand." He held up the hand that wasn’t laced with yours. You took hold of it and placed his palm on your chest - over your heart. "Feel my heartbeat, it’s calm, yeah? Calming."  

Dean’s fingers traveled up your skin to rest against the pulse in your neck, his thumb absorbing the soft thuds while his other fingers wrapped around the back of your neck. Dean’s breathing evened out, even through the rough turbulence.

You looked into his eyes, his were trained on his hand. He looked like an infant, the way he was fixated on his fingers like it was something shiny and captivating. You internally smiled, he looked so at ease; totally relieved. 

"I honestly can’t believe that worked." Dean leaned back in his seat.

"Don’t get too excited, you don’t want to work yourself up." You chuckled and looked out the window, watching the clouds and the descending sun.

You felt Dean’s lips press against your cheek softly.

"What was that for?"

"Thank you, for helping me," He shrugged.

"You would’ve done the same for me."

"I would do anything for you," Dean answered simply. 

You relaxed into his shoulder and he set his head atop yours and enjoyed the rest of the flight.