Supernatural Short Stories

There For Him

It wasn't easy to spot, but you could. Maybe it was how long you had hunted together. Or the fact that you spent hours locked in a car together, or nights in small cramped hotel rooms.

It was probably the fact that you had recently fallen into a relationship with Dean Winchester. Fallen being the perfect word. Falling into bed with him, falling for those beautiful green eyes that betrayed his feelings to anyone who dared look close enough.

But lately, those eyes had become guarded. His smile had begun to falter, and his arms didn't reach for you in the night. You worked hard to not take offense. After all, he had been through so much. It was probably just a phase or mood he was going through.

Instead of letting it hurt your feelings, you began watching him closely. Watching the way he would light up at the sign of a hamburger joint, but drive past. The way he began pushing away the pies you offered.

Even lately he would undress in the bathroom at night, crawling into bed and rolling on his side. Not reaching for you, or making love as you had so hoped.

"Sam," you finally sought out his brother's wisdom. "Have you noticed anything different with Dean?"

Sam barely even lifted his gaze from the screen of his laptop. "Not that I can think of. Why?"

Sighing, you sank down in the oak chair beside him. Sam was busy scrolling on his laptop, no doubt looking for another case. And while you didn't want to bother him with this, you were worried about Dean. "I dunno. He just seems..off."

Finally, Sam's hazel eyes glanced over to you, his smile on half-hearted and short-lived. Closing his laptop, he turned his full attention your way. "I guess I haven't paid much attention. But we haven't had a case for what...two weeks? And you know how that makes him."

Sure, it could be that. After all, Dean hated going so long between cases. But it seemed something...different. "Yeah, I guess," you sighed again. "Just keep an eye out, okay?"

"Of course," Sam assured you, reaching for and grasping your hand, squeezing it lightly. "We're all in this together. And I appreciate how much you care for my brother."

You patted the top of his hand before pushing the chair back, the usual sound of wood rubbing against wood calming your nerves slightly. "He saved me. When I didn't know I needed saving. I'd just like to return the favor if needed."

Dean was still out on what he called a supply run, and you didn't want to be all alone in your room. Instead, you went to the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for cookies. Baking seemed to calm you, and it would pass the time until Dean returned.

You were just pulling the final batch of cookies from the oven when you could hear Sam talking to Dean. Their voices were muffled before Dean's voice left, and it was silence once again. Placing the cookies on the cooling tray, you washed your hands just as Sam entered the room. Leaning against the frame, he crossed his long legs, stuffing his hands in his distressed jeans. "You're right," he admitted without preamble. "Something's up."

You wanted to say I told you. Instead, you handed Sam a warm chocolate chip cookie, before sitting down at the table to stare up at him. "What do you think it is?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. He um...he came back from the store empty-handed. When I stopped him, he said everything was fine. But Y/N, he never comes back from town without beer or pie or...,"

"So we're still thinking lack of hunts?" You asked, even though you weren't convinced that was the case.

"No, not anymore," he answered, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, he won't talk to me, but maybe...he opens up to you."

You knew exactly what he meant. Standing up, you patted his shoulder. "Why don't you head to town, pick up what Dean should have, and I'll talk to Dean."

Sam nodded, heading back down the hallway. Minutes later you could hear the rumble of the Impala through the quiet bunker. Planning what you were going to happen, you piled a plate full of cookies. Pouring two glasses of milk, you walked down the hallway, hoping Dean would like the surprise.

The door to your shared room was cracked open, and you peered through before stepping inside. Dean was off to the side, his shirt off and tossed on the bed. He was standing there, looking at himself in the mirror. And it made everything click.

"Dean? Is everything okay?" You asked. He jumped, quickly reaching for his shirt. Setting the cookies down, you stepped over, grasping his hand before he could put it on. "What's going on?"

He sighed, the black t-shirt bunched tightly in his hand. "Can we not?" He pleaded, but you had given him space long enough. Shaking your head, you pulled him down until you were both sitting on the edge of the bed. "Let's talk," you insisted.

His jaw ticked. "It's stupid," he muttered.

"I don't care," you argued. "It's upsetting you, and that means it's upsetting me. So come on, what is it? If it's the scars, I've told you they're sexy."

He shook his head, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. "Y/N, have you noticed....I've...well, my body isn't the same as it used to be?"

Your laughter quickly turned into a cough. He was being truthful. "Dean, what are you talking about? Sure, there are more scars than before, but you're...,"

"Not the scars. I sound so stupid, but I see Sam, and how lean he is with all his freaking running. But my body, it's gotten..freaking pudgy! I have, what do they call it? A Dad's bod, and I hate it!"

"A Dad's bod?" You had heard the term before. And it fit Dean. He was strong and could fight with the best of them. But his body was finally feeling the after-effects of all those burgers and pies, and his stomach wasn't as defined as he wanted it. But you were okay with that. He was softness and strength all wrapped in one amazing human being. "Dean, who called you that?"

"The cashier at the gas station," he muttered. "It wasn't meant for me to hear, but..,"

"Dean, this body is perfect," you assured him. "It's strong when it needs to be. It holds so many scars that have amazing stories behind them. It's literally been to hell and back. But it's also soft and gives me comfort when I need that. Dean, you have nothing to be ashamed about."

"It's just," he sighed. "I know we already have the age difference between us, and I didn't want my...aging body to disgust you."

"Nothing about you disgusts me," you assured him. "Not these strong arms, or these laugh lines around your eyes. Or the way I fit perfectly in your arms. Dean, please know that I love you the way you are."

He sighed, finally peering up in your eyes. "Thank you. You always know the right things to say."

Laying back on the bed, the cookies long forgotten, you pulled him down until you could rest your head on his chest. "See? This is perfect?"

For the first time in weeks, Dean held you close, and you hoped you had pushed his worries away. Never had you expected Dean to be self-conscious, but it had only made you love him more.