Cool leather sticks to your bare legs as you shift and turn and try and find anyway to get comfortable.

The backseat of the impala is usually your favorite place to nap, but you’ve been on the road for 7 hours. And there’s probably another 2 or 3 left until you get to the next hunt.

Worse, your period started last night. And this month is fucking brutal. You had your own motel room last night, so the boys didn’t know you spent the night on the nasty bathroom floor - alternating between purging your stomach and crying.

Fucking pitiful, but in the privacy of your own space you allowed yourself to be as sad and whiny as you wanted.

Now, you’ll suck it up.

Slow sips of Gatorade and bites of crackers are all you’ve had today. Dean would fucking kill you if you got sick all over his baby.

You so desperately, pathetically, wanted Dean to like you. So you’ll pretend to be fine. And you won't get sick back here.

The impala lurches over a patch of uneven asphalt and your breath catches in your throat as pain throbs with every bump. Your head, your back, your boobs, your uterus, hell even your knees hurt.

“You alright back there sweetheart?” Dean calls low, his voice rumbling right alongside his precious car.

“Fine” you call, a little breathier than intended. Waving a hand in the air at him to try and prove your weak statement

Dean hums at your response, so it seems he’s buying your lies for now.

It’ll be harder to get away with this out of the car. When they watch how little you can eat without getting sick, how stiff you’re sitting, how you can barely breathe without wincing. If you engage in conversation you might yell at them. Or cry.

You puff out a quiet breath and stare at the roof above you covered in that tan vinyl stuff that’s on the doors. Every inch is already ingrained in your brain but you stare anyway.

This car is more of a home than anywhere else has been in the last 10 years. And you’ve only been on the road with the Winchester’s for the last few months.

The thought slams into you unexpectedly and fat heavy tears roll down your cheeks before you can even process that you’re sad. And homesick. And lonely. And you wish you had a space of your own. A person of your own.

Fuck.

Swallowing back the tears you turn into the seat and wipe the evidence of your fragile state from your cheeks. Hiding from people closest to you.

But you can’t possibly have a heart to heart about the sacrifices of a hunter right now.

So, you listen to the two of them bicker over music and cases and worst motels they’ve stayed in. And eventually you drift back into a restless sleep.

—

Eyes are heavy and stuck together when you wake. Probably from crying in your sleep, again.

Dean’s baby is cool and quiet around you. His low rumbling hum of “Enter Sandman” is muffled and it takes a slow minute for your brain to catch up to reality as you flip to your back.

Dean’s outside, pumping gas and continuing to hum Metallica. Sam is nowhere to be found.

The drivers door opens and Dean leans over the bench seat to look down at you. Piercing green eyes meet your as he asks, “Sweetheart…what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong…?” You question back, not understanding what he wants from you. Is he like testing you on the case?

He just stares for a second as your thoughts continue to spiral.

“With you” He finally clarifies.

“What’s wrong with me?” You push back, the sharpness in your tone betraying the hurt in your chest. But you don’t give him a second to answer before you snap back “Maybe it’s waking up to rude fucking questions, Asshole!”

Dean stares at you for a long second before he pushes up off the seat and gets out of the car.

The door shutting sounds like a gunshot in the silence and you let out a shaky sigh. You didn’t mean to snap at him when he was just checking in. Just being a decent human and you had to yell at him.

Fucking hormones.

The door at your feet opened and Dean crawled in before you could object. Pulling your feet to sit on his lap. You just stared at the man trying to figure out what the fuck in going on.

Dean and you were hunter friends, sure. But it’s not like you were that close. Not emotional breakdown in the back seat together, close. No, your relationship revolved around hunts, and dive bars, and small talk about nothing. He barked orders and you rolled your eyes but followed them anyway.

But you couldn’t help but feeling more. Dean and Sam have been the only consistent people in you life in a very very long time. Sam felt like a brother you never had or a best friend from a life forgotten. Dean, well Dean you adored. You needed him to like you. To be proud of you. And fuck if you didn’t want to get on you knees and promise to be good if he’ll let you make him cum.

But you didn’t let your daddy issues affect reality. Even if the way he touched your ankles and looked at you like that makes you want to cry and crawl in his lap.

“Do you want to keep yelling at me? Or do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You sighed loud and long, staring at the roof “Sorry. Hormones are making me a little crazy”

His whole body tensed up under your feet. “Uhh.. what does…are you…pregnant or something?”

You pulled yourself up, leaning against the door opposite him and snapped “Jesus! No! I’m on my period idiot”

“Oh…Oh! Shark Week. Yeah. Okay” Dean blinked at you

You just rolled your eyes at him. Men are stupid.

“You’ve been on the road with us for months and I haven’t seen you like…this… before”

“Yeah well… I ran out of birth control a week ago. So”

He swallowed, hard. “I think you’re gonna have to walk me through it a little more sweetheart. I haven’t exactly lived with a woman before.”

“You’ve dated.”

Dean scoffs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Not really the same thing”

Obviously. You get the protective asshole. They get off the clock Dean in their bed. You couldnt help but chuckle at him despite the twinge in your heart “didn’t pay attention to anything other than you didn’t need to use condoms?”

“I always use condoms sweetheart”

“Okay okay” you wave your hands in between y’all “I don’t actually need to know” mostly because if he keeps talking about his sex life you might actually throw up back here.

“So…” Dean prods “Now that you’re out of birth control you what? get periods and yell at me and sigh and groan in the car?”

“Yup”

“And…?”

God what does he want from you?!

“And I’m sorry I yelled at you? But maybe don’t ask people what’s wrong with them. It's rude.”

———————

Dean’s lip twitched with a hint of a smile. He liked this little bratty side of you. You were always so nice. So put together for everyone even when you hunt. But sometimes, just for him, you aren’t so nice. And fuck if he didn’t want to spank you for it.

But you were a friend. Sammy’s friend. And you were on the road with them. And more importantly you didn’t want him.

It didn’t stop him from fantasizing about it though. About you. He bet you’d be soft and sweet and beg for him while you cry pretty tears. And you’d taste like fucking sugar. Bet you’d promise to be oh so good and then you’d be a feral little brat desperate to be punished.

But he couldn’t have any of that.

Besides, you deserved so much better than him. You deserved someone who worshipped you, and let you be a damn princess.

He can’t exactly give you a life of luxury. Or hell even a life of peace. But he can get you ice cream or pasta or heating pads or whatever you need.

He’ll take care of you for as long as he can. That’s for damn sure.

Shit…he’s just been staring at you for a minute. “Not what I was asking for sweetheart. Tell me about your periods. About the birth control.”

Your head tilted and those big eyes blinked at him for a second. Damn you were fucking cute.

“Why?”

“…why?” Dean repeated slowly

“Yeah” you nodded your head, not giving him shit anymore just genuinely asking. “Why do you wanna know?”

Deans stomach twisted, you had no idea how important you are to him.

“We’re friends aren’t we? Besides, we're basically living together here sweetheart.”

You puff out a long sigh and roll your eyes at the ceiling like Dean won’t notice. Yeah… he likes your bratty side.

“Wellll yeah.. the birth control like stabilizes my hormones. Cause mine uh don’t exactly balance naturally. And it kinda sucks. So I’m hoping they have my brand at the pharmacy here.”

“Why does it suck?” He pushed, needing to know more. To know everything about you

“Usual woman stuff, mood swings, bad periods, blah, blah, blah”

“How can I help?” Dean rasped, desperate for a way to be close. To take care of you.

Your head tipped back in a laugh, exposing the pretty column of your throat. “I’m good, promise. Im not going to keep yelling at you. What happened to Sam?” You asked looking around

Dean signed letting you change the subject, “Motels down the street. Dropped him to get rooms”

————————

When you get to the motel you find out that Sam didn’t get rooms, he got one singular room.

It didn’t even have a couch. Just 2 queen beds, a nightstand, and a little table and chairs.

Fan - fucking - tastic

You wanted to scream. But you literally just promised Dean that your period and hormones wouldn’t be a problem for him.

A petulant sigh escaped you anyways. You didn’t even set your bag down, just hauled it with you towards the bathroom, calling “I’m taking a shower first” over your shoulder as you went.

The shower didn’t get near as hot as you would like, but the warm water still soothed a little bit. You scrubbed the blood stains off your thighs and out of your panties before the nausea returned with a vengeance.

You dried off slowly and slipped into the comfiest clothes you had. A baggy set of sweats you got at the men’s section of a Walmart years ago. The pants sat low off your hips and dragged on the floor. The sweatshirt was perfectly oversized too, not pulling on your curves and loose around the neck. And it was scattered with a few burn holes you little to fiddle with, that actually came from a camp fire and not a case. (You were camped out on a hunt for a wendgo)

When you killed as much time as you possibly can, you return to your sad little shared room of the night. Sam and Dean are huddled suspiciously close together. Talking about your period, obviously.

“Hungry sweetheart?” Dean crooned, dangling his keys. “ ‘s bar down the way, looks like they got good burger”

“Nope” you dropped onto the bed closest to you “you boys have fun though. Maybe bring me back some fries if you don’t find a hookup?”

Dean's jaw clenched as Sam rolled his eyes. “When do I ever?” He retorted with a scoff

“So prim Samuel”

Dean snorted a laugh. “I’ll bring you a burger too, y’ need more than fries.”

Your stomach flips and clenches. And that’s definitely just your body attacking your uterus. Not a reaction to Dean offering food, or the way he ignored the suggestion to get laid.

They were out the door a minute later, after you promised twice that you’d text them if you needed anything.

A lie of course, you wouldn’t bother them. But it got them out the door.

Not 10 minutes later you're back in the bathroom, losing a fight to keep down the crackers you ate in the car.

You peeled your sweatshirt off, the fabric rubbing wrong against your over sensitive nipples. Besides, cleaning blood out of clothes was enough work, if your sweatshirt was covered in sick no way were you cleaning it.

You were both shivering and sweating, from the cold dingy bathroom and the workout of trying to empty your already stomach. God, you felt pitiful and weak. Once again crying on a motel bathroom floor.

But not everyone can be a fucking Winchester, you’ve watched them save the whole damn world. And you can’t even get your body to function normally.

Rage at your body, and men in general, was enough fuel to end your hour long pity party and get your ass off the bathroom floor. You dragged yourself up with a groan before you saw your sweatshirt was still on the ground. It was staying there for now, if you bent over you’d end up on the floor again and you just got up. Besides - the boys shouldn’t be back for a bit. So it’s not like you’d scar them walking around topless, holding your swollen tits in place so they stop fucking bouncing.

Unfortunately - the universe, or the gods, or whoever, is out to get you today. Because when you look up, there’s Dean fucking Winchester. Sitting at the dinky table with a bunch of bags on the table, staring at your breasts.

You don’t really care about him seeing, it’s not like you’re modest. And you’ve got great tits if you do say so yourself. Full, pierced, and nipples the same shade of pink as your lips. Any other week you would be thrilled, and definitely tease him. But he’s been exceptionally weird today. And you just want a damn minute to yourself.

You opened your mouth to yell at him. Before you remembered your stupid promise. Letting out a sigh instead as you turned back to the bathroom to grab the forgotten sweatshirt. Groan successfully bitten back when pain spikes as you bend.

You emerge back into the motel room and Dean is still frozen, still staring, despite the sweatshirt now in his way.

“You’re staring”

Deans green eyes immediately snap up to yours. “Shit… ‘m sorry sweetheart… but I uh didn’t expect you to be… uh…topless”

“You were supposed to be out” you’re not yelling, but your tone is decidedly clipped. Annoyance bleeding into every word

“Y’always walk around like that when you’re alone?” His jade green eyes sparkling with mischief. Hes unfortunately still cute when he’s being annoying.

“Sometimes” you said shrugging.

“ and you’re pierced?” He’s back to staring at your tits through the sweatshirt

“Your observation skills are truly unmatched” you deadpanned “so what happened? Why you back early?”

That seems to snap him back to reality, as his eyes leave your chest to sweep over his collection of bags.

“ ‘m back to hang out with you, obviously. And I brought you stuff”

“Oookay” you drawled out, not understanding this at all. “What did Sam do now?”

Dean just grunted “Sammy’s fine. He was talking to some other nerds at the bar. Asking about the case.”

So he just abandoned his brother, on a hunt, to come back here?

Oh god he’s going to kick you out. The bleeding and hormones freaked him out. Or he thinks you’re a liability or something. Like you cant hunt anymore.

Fuck! You had to bite down on the inside of your lips to hold back the tears. This gorgeous asshole will not make you cry.

Dean sighed, “just check out what I brought ya, alright sweetheart?” He was already pulling stuff out of bags. Soon enough the table was covered with a burger and fries, all your favorite gas station snacks too, crackers, candies, chips, gatorade, cherry coke, even the instant noodles you like. Theres even boxes of tampons and pads, and a heating pad, even a box of midol.

The barely contained tears spill fast and hot down your cheeks. “What the fuck?!” You rasped out, halfway between a yell and a whisper

“I… I uh… dammit sweetheart ‘m just trying to help. Didn’t mean to make you cry”

You collapse into Deans lap, tucking your head into his neck.

His massive warm arms wrap around you immediately. One hand landing at your hip holding you close, the other pushed up the sweatshirt at the small of your back - callused fingers drawing soothing circles over your skin. “ ‘m sorry honey” he murmurs into your hair

When you can finally catch your breath and the collar of Deans flannel is soaked from your tears, you try to pull back from where you’ve pressed against him. Deans hands tighten around you instead.

You press a kiss to the stubbled skin at his neck. He stiffens slightly under you so you press another one in the same spot. “Thank you for all this De. I’m not upset. I’m just…surprised. And hormonal. Sorry for the crying” you mutter against him, lips sliding against stubbly skin with every word.

You never thought you’d get him this close, you can’t help but press another kiss this time against that perfectly chiseled jaw.

Dean puffs out a breath that flutters your hair. “So…” his Adam’s apple bobs on a hard swallow and you want to lean over and bite it. “You like what I got ya?”

Fuck yes. You like that he got you anything. You like that he’s a little unsure. You like it so much it makes you a little feral and you want to sink to your knees for him and prove how much you like it.

But then your stomach clenches hard, with a stabbing pain low. You’re half surprised there’s not a knife digging in right where your ovaries are. You hiss out a breath from the pain, and snatch the midol and Gatorade off the table. Swallowing back a few pills. “Very much De, thank you”

“Don’t have to thank me honey, but will ya eat some of this?”

“Later” you assented “not hungry”

He grumbled and settled you closer against him. “Don’t think y’ ‘ve eaten besides those crackers on the road. C’mon just a little f’ me?”

You puffed out a sigh, “Would if I could. If I can keep the midol down it’ll be a miracle.”

He cups your chin and tilts your head up to look at his warm green eyes. “You said you were good” he tuts “tell me how you’re really doing”

You worry your lip between your teeth, not 100% sold on opening up.

He doesn’t push, just waiting steady. Holding your chin.

You groan, “oookay fine…I’m not doing good. My periods are kinda brutal. I can’t stop throwing up. Everything hurts. I think I’m losing like gallons of blood. And the mood swings are clearly fucking with me.”

His thumb brushes against your jaw and you swear your brain just shut off. He asked you something, from the way he’s looking at you but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was.

“Huh?” You blink at him, trying to get your brain to restart.

Except he keeps brushing his callused thumb against your jaw, the rest of those big fingers holding your head in place. And the flannel is bunched up exposing those outrageous veiny forearms. And you can’t process anything that’s coming out of his pretty mouth.

“Okay I can’t hear a word you say when you touch me like that” you blurt out, maybe a little too loudly

His chuckle is deep and rumbling, fingers flexing slightly, before he pulls them back and wraps his arm back around you. “ ‘m gonna remember that for later, but I was askin for details sweetheart. How do y’ hurt”

You huff out a breath, annoyed he moved his hand to interrogate about what’s wrong with you, but you answer anyways. “Cramps of course, but it also feels like there’s a knife twisting in my ovaries. Back hurts like I just dug up a whole family of bones. And my tits are swollen and painful and sensitive. And that also makes my back hurt. My head throbs. My joints ache.

“But I’ll be fine,” you add quickly “its the mood swings and the nausea that make it bad anyways.”

You finally drag your eyes from his chest up to meet his, and those mesmerizing green eyes are heavy with sadness. “You should’ve told me. We could’ve stayed in that town, taken a couple days off.”

“What about the case?”

He scoffs “Assholes who were ganked , cheated on their wives, bullied grown men, stole from their employees pensions, and yelled at kids. Think they had it comin’. Besides Sammy can handle one case on his own.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Honey imma stay right here with you and rub your back, and hold your hair when you puke, and get you snacks. Besides - ya need someone to yell at and cry on.”

“But -“

He stood, still holding you in his arms, and cut off whatever you were going to say next. Dean places you gently in bed, like you’re made of something special.

He brings over the Gatorade and crackers and plugs in the heating pad, settling it low on your stomach. He tucks himself in beside you, leaning up on the headboard, as his fingers brush through your hair.

“Why are you doing all this?” You murmur lazily. Melting immediately into Deans comfort.

“I wanna take care of my girl” he rasps gently, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Your girl?” It comes out a little slurred, the sleep deprivation catching up quickly.

“Yeah sweetheart, my girl. If y’ll have me”

“M’kay” You turn into him, nuzzling into his flannel covered chest. “Mine” you murmur as you fall asleep in his arms

—————

Thank you for reading!!