#softspace

Sometimes when shit fell apart, the only thing you knew how to do was drive.

You would climb into the drivers seat of whatever car you had access to and drive for miles, hours, just for some peace and quiet. A sliver of something you almost never had.

Your playlist plays at a good level, helping to erase the demons that begin to cloud, and tape up the boxes of memories you just dont want to dust off, not yet. Or ever.

When Sam and Dean came into your life, your drives eventually added them, talking was minimal when your demons came, and all you needed was your music and to drive. Whether it was after a particularly hard day, or a hard job, the boys knew it would be a escape for you to drive.

Dean wasn’t particularly happy when you first started to drive baby, but after time, he enjoyed him and you in the drivers seat with sammy asleep in the back. You two would talk, reaching a level of understanding with eachother that you didn’t feel like could be found with others.

Thats how you told him about your regression, it spilled out on accident, your mind so flooded with hauntings that your most vulnerable secret came out of your mouth like it was easy. Like it didn’t make your throat scratch when you realized what had just came out of your mouth.

“You- Regression? I’m not sure I know what that is.” Dean answers.

His look of concern makes yourself want to just end the conversation, turn up the music, and continue on your last 6 hours of a drive.

A awkward amount of time passed before you started to slowly explain to Dean. His face changed from pure confusion and concern to a look of understanding.

All hunters had a way of getting the feeling of their life to fade, even if it wasn’t the best. Alcohol, drugs, self-harm, something to ease the mind. Your mind just took you in a different direction with it.

You and him talked through quite a bit of it as you headed down the road, only stopping when sammy started to snore and Dean needed to take photos of the drool smeared face that sam had in the backseat.

The job came and went, Dean looking at you every now and then as it progressed, checking in and making sure you were okay. He wasn’t exactly sure when you had the chance to use a coping mechanism other than driving.

He took Sam’s laptop when he could and looked further into age regression as much as he could, trying to understand what he could do to help, to grasp on to what helped you mentally.

As the job ended, the three of you full of exhaustion even after crashing at a motel, begin to pack and head to the next job. A haunting somewhere in Philadelphia, a long drive ahead.

Dean goes to hand you the keys, thinking you’d want to drive after nearly being killed by a ghost this week, but you just shake your head and walk off to the car. Putting your suitcase in the trunk, you slide into the passenger seat as the boys grab the rest of the belongings you all had.

Dean took the silent hint, Sam didn’t quite grasp on, but he was just glad he could get shut eye in the back again. It was surprisingly comfortable. The boys finished packing down the car and climbed in. The engine roared and off you went.

About three hours in, Dean looks over to you and sees your lip between your teeth, blood being drawn. Your body was drawn into itself like your anxiety was spiking through the roof, and you could barely contain it.

Dean glanced in the back, seeing that Sam was asleep with his head on the door, he sighed gratefully. He knew you weren’t particularly fond of people knowing of your regression, but since he knew already, he couldn’t help but be invested.

“You alright?” He asks eventually.

“Yeah, just, yeah.” You mutter out.

Your head had been trying to crash into regression for the last few hours, apparently telling people you regress meant that your brain automatically wanted to make it their problem.

He glanced at you again before reaching his hand out for you to grab. A invitation to let him in, to let him help.

He goes to retract his hand but just before he can, you gently grab his hand, pulling it to lay on your knee. You begin to focus on his hand, uncurling from the door, you begin to pull and play with his hand.

Dean smiles, full on bright smile as he sees you let him in, even if its not alot, he knows you feel safe enough. The trip begins to lighten as Dean clenches his hand into a fist and you try to open it, ultimately failing and pouting at him until he opens his hand flat again, chuckling at you.

Although it wasn’t much, it was enough for you both. Something between you both just clicked, there was no words of explaining or knowledge that needed to be done for Dean to be there. To handle the big stuff and let you have some time not acting strong.

The front of the car became a sense of safety for you both, if dean was in a bad mood, he’d drive. Letting himself have peace, but also welcoming you to regress. Your regression became not only something that would lessen the load on your shoulders, but it gave dean a opening. Something to cherish that others couldn’t ruin.

If you needed to drive, he'd use the time to tell you stories about Sammy and him, the things he and his brother used to get up to. Things he usually called sappy and didn't like to talk about.

He’d do anything for you as you sit in the passenger seat, retelling him a story he’s heard a million times, a slight lisp added on and sound effects he didn’t know you knew.

It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough for you both.

Tony, Clint and Natasha all rush in behind Steve as he carries you into Bruces lab, Steve lays you down on his table as bruce stops what he's working on and rushes over, concern etched onto his face.

"What happened??" He says as he looks over your unconcious body, your suit covering most of your vital areas. He visually scans for wounds or bruises, both his doctor side and caregiver side kicking in.

"I don't know! I just found them out cold as we were heading back from the mission. We drove straight here." Steve clambers out, his eyes looking over you just as concerned.

As the group starts to argue over what could have happened, you start to wake up, your head throbbing and your back hurting from something unknown. You open your eyes looking around to Steve and Natasha yelling at one another, Tony and Bruce trying to figure out what is going on with you, and Clint standing near you.

"Hey numbskulls! They're awake." Clint catches all their attentions.

"Woah, hey baby. What happened? Can you tell me what hurts?" Bruce immediately steps closer to you, looming over you, scanning your face for any signs of pain.

"Papa?" Your glossy eyes catch onto his concerned ones. He immediately starts telling the others to leave the room.

Bruce eventually shoos everyone out of the room, closing the window visibility and helping to get you into comfier clothes, checking you for wounds as he helps change you with his emergency little bag.

"Okay you have some bruising on your back baby, how's your head hun?" Bruce gently picks you up, sitting onto the table with you on his lap.

"Hurts still.." You mumble as you cling to his chest, snuggling into his warmth. His scent of light mint and lumber mixing with the chemicals he was using earlier.

He gently kisses your forehead before helping you snuggle into him more.

"I know baby, the medicine will kick in soon."

From the check up he did as he helped you get out of your suit, he knew it wasn't anything major and that you'd be okay. All you needed was for him to be there.

Bruce gently threads his fingers through your hair as your body relaxes into him. Both of yours breathing begin to match one another, and you both sigh contently.

Bruce wasn't a very open person, and he wasn't very sure when you had asked him to be your caregiver. The big green thing he turns into put a lot of weight on his shoulder when thinking about those decisions.

Yet as he holds you in his arms, the feeling of you breathing against him and your heartbeat thumping, makes it all worth it. Eventually he hears your breathing stabilize, and become more soft. He gently lifts your face from his neck as he looks your sleeping face.

He admires you as he thanks whatever brought you to him, whatever gave him the one thing that kept him going. He gets up with you still engulfed in his arms, grabbing his bag and heading out to the main lobby to head up to your twos shared floor in the tower.

The elevator dings, the cozy apartment you and Bruce share comes into sight as Bruce continues to carry you in. You stir slightly as your back aching makes it hard to stay comfortable while being held in the air.

"Shhh, I know baby I know, Ill get you to bed right now." Bruce softly whispers, throwing his go bag on the couch and carrying you to your shared bed. He gently lays you up near the headboard, your head beginning to stop throbbing as the medicine completely sets in. You whine as you feel the warmth of your papa leave.

"It's okay baby, I'm just gonna get into comfier clothes. Ill be right across the room" Bruce smiles lightly before completely moving from the bed to the closet.

It feels like forever before you feel the bed creek and your slowly moved under sheets and back to being engulfed in Bruce's arms.

You giggle tiredly as Bruce kisses your nose, settling in as well, exhaustion hitting him.

You both lay there in silence, enjoying the soft breathing of eachother as you both lull the other to sleep.

Bruce would eventually wake you up in a few hours to do a better evaluation, to make sure you were completely okay, but for now all he knew you needed was your papa. So that he was.