Tx2fanxx

He'd given you space, but he tried. He'd left food outside the door that would be left untouched. He knocked a few times, with a gentle “sweetheart?” But all you could muster was a suffocated response, muffled by pillows and blankets.

“Go away.”

But Dean Winchester had enough. He pushed your bedroom door open roughly. The same way he would on hunts when he would kick through a locked door. The light from the bunker creeped in to your dark room and you quickly covered your face with your thick comforter.

“Dean,” you groaned from under the blanket. “Shut the damn door.” You cocooned yourself into the bed, nothing but a lump under the blankets. Your hair was a matted mess, and the air was stale. You didn’t stink, but the air was permeated with sweat, sheets that had been laid on for days, and the familiar scent of sadness.

"Alright, sweet pea," Dean said, his voice stern, but not quite mean, or judgemental. You were embarrassed as he walked across your room to open the curtains, then the blinds. You groaned again as even more harsh, blinding light spilled in your room.

"Times up."

You groaned again, seemingly unable to form a sentence. "Dean,” you whined. “Please. Go away.”

"Nope," he said as he grabbed your blanket and pulled it down, exposing your pale, tired eyes. Dried tears and drool on your face and dark circles under your eyes let Dean know that he absolutely was not giving you more time. "I have been patient,” he said as he continued uncovering your warm body, the air on your skin was freezing cold. “I have been understanding.”

He finally had you uncovered and was standing over you now, looking down on you in your bed. “But I am not letting this go on any longer, babygirl. Got it?”

You didn’t respond, you just curled yourself back into the fetal position without your blankets.

“Up. Now." He barked. “Feet on the floor, ass outta bed.”

You shook your head, tears beginning to swell again in your eyes. "I can't, Dean.”

Dean's heart was breaking as he watched you, but he couldn’t let it show. He sat next to you on the edge of the bed, cupping your cheek in his calloused hand brushing away a sweaty hair that was stuck to your face.

"Little one, I know it’s hard,” he said, his voice gentle but still rugged. “But I'm here, and I can’t let this go on anymore, okay?”

You didn’t say anything, you just looked at him.

“This is what’s gonna happen,” he said, matter of factly, gently patting your warm ass. “I’m gonna go run you a bath, ‘kay?”

“Dean, please, I’ll get up, but I’m just too tired.”

“I’ll do all the work.”

You looked at him, and nodded.

“And then you’re gonna let me take care of you. Got it?”

You nodded again.

“Can ya do that for daddy?” He said, with an arrogant smirk.

And finally, you nodded again, trying not to smirk or giggle, but whenever Dean referred to himself as daddy, it did something to you. And Dean knew it as he smiled at you. He pressed a warm kiss to your forehead. “That’s my good girl.”

After a few minutes, you heard the bathroom door creak open, followed by the sound of running water. When Dean came back to your room, your eyes had already closed again. He rolled his eyes as he set the thick towel, and your folded bath robe at the foot of your bed.

"Up we go, sweetheart" he said, scooping you up and out of bed as if you weighed nothing. He cradled you like a baby, and you rested your head in the crook of his neck as he carried you to the bathroom. You breathed in his scent, and closed your eyes at the comfort of his cologne. You were so light, and Dean felt a slight tinge of guilt for not forcing you to eat something sooner.

Once Dean reached the bathroom, steam had already permeated the air, fogging the mirror and the shower door. The tub was full of warm, steamy water, bubbles piled high, and a few drops of your favorite essential oil.

"Look at that, sweetheart," Dean murmured as he gently set you down on the bathroom sink. “Perfect timing.”

He quickly turned to shut the water off and was facing you again right away. He knelt in front of you, his big hands resting on your knees. "C’mon let's get you undressed.”

Dean helped you strip off his oversized Metallica t-shirt and old sweatpants you'd been living in for the last three days. His touch was gentle and slow. He did everything he could to not make you feel exposed or embarrassed. He just guided your clothes off, his rough hands against your smooth skin made you shudder and giggle.

He smirked at you, but his eyes were still filled with tenderness and concern. “There she is,” Dean cooed. “Been missin’ that little giggle.”

Once you were naked, he held your hand as you stepped into the tub. You eased yourself into the hot water, sighing with both relief and exhaustion.

Dean knelt down beside the tub and rolled up his sleeves. He dipped a plastic cup into the water and gently poured it over your hair. His large hands glided down the back of your head, and his fingers got stuck in some of the tangles. When you winced at the tug on your scalp, he noticed and started working his fingers through the knots with surprising gentleness.

"Your hair's a mess, sweet pea," he said gently as he reached for the shampoo.

You didn’t know how to respond, and you were embarrassed, so you didn’t say anything.

“Don’t worry, daddy’s got you,” he said as he worked the shampoo into a lather on your scalp. His strong fingers moved in expert circles by your temples, along your hairline, and all the way back to the nape of your neck. You moaned quietly and let your eyes close, your head tilting back into his hands.

"How's that, sweetheart?" Dean asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Mmm," you hummed, an exhausted smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Good."

"Just good?" Dean raised an eyebrow and stopped what he was doing to quickly and gently squeeze your side. You squirmed and giggled as he went back to massaging your scalp.

"This is the princess treatment right here, baby girl.” You looked up at him to meet his green eyes. “Should at least cost you a batch of fresh baked cookies. Or even pie.”

You couldn’t help it when you snorted and broke out into a fit of giggles.

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Thank you, Dean"

Dean brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Anytime, sweetheart. Now let's get some conditioner on this hair, what do ya think?”

He rinsed your hair, then moved on to washing your body. He took his time, his hands gliding over your shoulders, down your arms, across your collarbones. He used a soft loofah, the warm suds on your skin felt so amazing as he worked his way through your upper body. Dean chuckled deviously when you’d squirm after he passed a ticklish spot.

“Sorry baby,” he whispered with a smirk, but you knew he was doing it on purpose.

Dean reached into the water and rested one leg on the rim of the tub. From your ankle to your hip, he’d follow the loofah with his free hand, gently pressing his fingertips into your soapy leg. You moaned out loud as he loosened your tense muscles.

“Like that, baby girl?” He whispered, and you responded with a nod and a moan.

Dean did the exact same thing on the other side. He took his time, making sure every inch of you was clean. He reached a wet, pruned hand to your cheek and you closed your eyes and relaxed into his touch.

"That's my girl,” he said. “God, you're beautiful."

Your eyes welled up again, but this time it was different. These were good tears. "I love you, Dean."

"Love you too, sweetheart. More than you know."

He dried you off with the fluffy towel, wrapping you in it like a burrito, then helped you into the soft robe. After gently brushing your hair, he led you to the living area of the bunker. You were greeted by a nest of pillows and blankets on the couch, and there was already a steaming mug of your favorite tea on the end table. You also noticed a plate of buttered toast and cut up strawberries.

"Sit," he barked, pointing to the sofa. You obeyed, sinking into the cushions, and covered your lap with another blanket. He quickly reached for the plate and placed it on your lap. “Eat,” he commanded.

You almost protested, just to see how much you could get away with, but the truth was, you were starving. You sunk your teeth into the toast and chewed.

“Good girl,” he said as he settled back down next to you, draping his arm over you on the back of the couch.

He grabbed the remote and scrolled through the Roku.

"Raiders of the Lost Ark? Or Princess Bride?"

"Princess Bride," you said, snuggling into his side, once you were finished eating.

"Good choice." He pressed play, and the familiar music filled the room.

Halfway through the movie, you looked up at him, and you were sure he noticed but he kept his eyes on the tv. "Dean?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Thank you."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering in your damp hair for a moment. "I always got you."