#should’ve taken my meds right away 😭

[rebubblingishti]

wow today started out totally fucking awful!!!

[wildwestdean]

repose

based on a request made by @chevroletdean! 🤍

a/n: this is a repost, because i tried to edit the main post when half asleep but my dumb ass deleted it instead 😭

summary: you catch a cold while out on a hunt with dean. you refuse to take it easy once back at the bunker, so he takes matters into his own hands to try and help you recover - even if it means bribing you into finally getting some rest

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: some mentions of violence/mutilation in the beginning, established relationship, stubborn reader, reader puts her own health on the back burner, reader doesn't like to feel useless, reader won't take her meds, fluff, a touch of angst, minor swearing, protective dean, worried dean, dean goes full caretaker mode, dean just really loves reader, briefest mention of clothes being taken off, reader gets carried around, more fluff

Dean knew it was a bad idea. 

He knew he should’ve tried harder to stop you, but really, what was he supposed to do? The suspect was about to get away, and you were too stubborn in your ways once you set your mind to something. All he could do was watch as you ran out the door, quickly disappearing within the sheets of freezing rain that were falling while he cursed to himself. 

His first thought wasn’t a declaration of fear that the suspect might get a drop on you. No, despite your appearance, your skills were rivalled only by those of Sam and Dean themselves; they taught you everything you knew, after all. Instead, shockingly, the first thought to cross his mind was: she’s going to catch a cold. 

Hurrying after you, you two easily managed to apprehend the suspect to haul him back to the warehouse for questions, all while Dean grumbled about how you should’ve stayed put and let him deal with it; a rant that only earned him a roll of your eyes in return. You didn’t venture out very far, and while it did feel like you were soaked straight through to the bone, the warehouse was growing closer and would soon offer respite from the downpour - his worrying, like usual, would end up being over nothing. 

Yet the chill you were met with once back in the warehouse almost had you regretting your choice, and had it not been for the sickening grin you were given by the douchebag that Dean was currently tying to a rickety chair, you probably would have. You were convinced it was even colder in here than outside; but you refused to let Dean in on that fact.

He didn’t pick up on it right away, focusing solely on extracting the answers that were buried behind the soulless eyes he glared into. He always enjoyed taking his time when it came to things like this, letting the fear and dread settle in their hearts as he threatened to carve into skin or chop off extremities. It was fun, really, and he was enjoying it right up until you decided to pitch in, voicing your own threat of cutting off a very precious body part piece by little piece.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Dean took on a new sense of urgency to get the information you two needed. You could see it in every choice he made: how his pacing quickened, how his voice got darker and tighter while his patience drained away, how he stopped giving warning before his knife dove into flesh. 

You knew he was suddenly in a hurry to wrap this all up, but what you didn’t know was why. You didn’t know that when you spoke, Dean heard the waver in your voice, the quiet chatter of your teeth as you shivered from the cold. You didn’t think it was noticeable, but when it came to you, there was nothing Dean wouldn’t notice. 

With the increase of effort and decrease of delicacy, it wasn’t much longer until Dean finally got what he needed, and he plunged his knife through skin and muscle one final time before eagerly leading you from the warehouse.

“Wait here,” he requested, gently tugging you back just before you could step outside. 

“What, why?” you asked, silently amazed at how warm his palm felt on your arm despite being just as drenched as you were. “We need to finish up.”

“Just wait here,” he repeated, running out into the darkness before you could even reply. 

Left confused in his wake, all you could do was stand there and wait for him to return, trying to ignore the way your whole body wanted to tremble in response to the frigid air. You really, really longed for a hot shower right now, and the fact you knew you needed to dispose of this body somewhere out in this storm made tears threaten to spill over onto your still dampened face. 

The sight of Baby’s headlights cutting through the curtain of rain was like a breath of fresh air to you, and you yearned to just curl up on her front seat while the heat blasted from the dash. 

“One step at a time,” you told yourself. “Take care of the body, then you can warm up on the drive back.” 

Dean made it clear he had other plans in mind when he pulled up as close to the door as possible, leaving the engine running as he ran back over to you. 

“Heat’s on,” he declared, shaking some excess water from his jacket. “Lock yourself inside, I shouldn’t be too long.” 

“Too long doing what?” you asked, totally lost. 

He looked just as confused as you were, not understanding what you didn’t understand. 

“Getting rid of the body,” he declared after a moment, as though it were completely obvious. 

“You’re not doing that alone,” you argued in bewilderment. 

“Yes I am,” he argued back. 

“Dean-” you wanted to argue some more, but he cut you off by taking your face in his palms. 

“Even the screams couldn’t cover up the sound of your knees knockin’ together,” he teased. “Go wait in the car, baby. If you don’t go willingly, I’ll gladly toss you in.” 

You had the urge to say no, wanting to be useful and help him, but you backed down when you saw the look in his eyes.

“Fine,” you agreed, sighing in defeat. “But if you’re not back soon, I will be coming to find you,” you warned. 

Dean grinned in triumph as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Understood,” he confirmed, guiding you to the car before heading off to carry out his mission. 

It wasn’t until a few days later, when you finally made it back to the bunker, that you realized maybe Dean’s worrying hadn’t been over nothing after all. Despite having the heat cranked all the way up in every motel room, those worn down radiators could really only do so much. The piercing winds would seep through the meekly insulated windows, finding you even under the feigned safety of blankets and tight embrace of Dean; not to mention there being no way to avoid the icy blows whenever you made stops along the road. The sheer lack of sleep you got due to rushing back home seemed to be the final nail in the coffin, and your body was too exhausted to fight off the inevitable. 

It started as a tickle in your throat, which resulted in you continuously chugging back tea and honey; honey that Cas was extremely thrilled to provide you with. Dean was quick to notice you started doing this, and took it upon himself to bring you a mug whenever you were tied up with Sam and looking into some lore, or tirelessly helping Jack understand his latest discovery of the day. 

When the tickle in your throat developed into you having a full blown cough, he bought you your favourite cough drops, keeping an eye on them to make sure you didn’t run out. Though when they seemed to not be enough, he made sure to get you some cough syrup, too. 

He did his best to make sure you didn’t do too much, but asking you to take things easy was like asking a baby not to cry. It just wasn’t going to happen. You had the constant need to be productive, to be helpful. Feeling a little under the weather wasn’t going to change that. Him getting you to see a doctor was nothing short of a miracle, and the fact you were just about as stubborn as him was nearly ironic; he would laugh about it if he wasn’t so worried about you. 

His worry only magnified tenfold when he went to check on you one night, only to find your room empty. He tried convincing you to let him stay with you like usual, but you didn’t want him to get sick, too. He was really regretting not pushing back on that more, now that he found you in the library, lost in a pile of books; he had to take a breath to compose himself before speaking. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, approaching the table. 

“Research,” you croaked, eliciting another coughing fit. 

“Research?” he baulked. “For what? And why now?” 

You coughed once more, chugging down the rest of your tea before replying. “T’help Sammy. Couldn’sleep anyway,” you sniffled, words jumbled together from congestion.  

Dean sighed heavily, taking a seat beside you. “You didn’t even try to sleep, did you?” 

The lack of response from you told him everything he needed to know. 

“Alright, come on,” he announced, reaching for the book you were reading. 

Your reaction time was definitely slower than usual, but you still managed to pull the book out of his reach just in time. “No.” 

Knowing it would be a losing battle, and that it would probably cause more harm than good to just toss you over his shoulder and carry you to your room, he got up with a huff and left. You assumed he was angry, and felt a little guilty for upsetting him when he was just looking out for you, but you knew you were fine enough to carry on with this for a while longer.  

The last thing you currently expected was for him to return with a bowl of your favourite soup, leftover from when he made some for you earlier, and another large mug of tea, placing them on the free space in front of you before sitting back down. 

“If you wanna be helpful, then you’re gonna sit there and eat while I look for whatever the hell it is we’re looking for,” he ordered, easily snatching the book from you. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, picking up the spoon. “Bossy,” you added, hoping he didn’t see the smile playing on your lips as you feigned annoyance. 

He definitely did, but he kept it to himself as you gave him a cliff notes version of what you were looking into between spoonfuls of soup. 

You aren’t sure when it happened, but at some point between finishing the soup and drinking half the tea, you started to drift off; the warmth of his palm on your thigh and comfort of his soft rambling beside you lulling you to sleep. 

This time, Dean knew he would win the battle against you, and he carefully took you in his arms and carried you to bed, staying with you until morning.

Days had continued to go by, and you only seemed to be getting worse. Dean didn’t know what else to do and it was driving him mad - he couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore. 

He refused to take no as an answer now when it came to him doing things for you, and took over every task you tried to start. He followed you around, practically glued to your side, never letting you lift a finger and being a second pair of eyes when you did any research. 

Research that he tried to stop from coming in by threatening to break Sam’s legs if he didn’t quit bothering you for help, only to find out you were doing it of your accord. 

Even Jack had decided to stop coming to you for things until you were better, since he knew you’d never let him heal you.

Yet Dean knew it wasn’t enough. He knew you needed to just fucking lay down and rest. 

Waking up in the middle of the night to find your side of the bed empty once more, Dean stormed off towards the hub of the bunker as he shouted your name - he didn’t care if he woke everyone up at this point. 

He didn’t stop until he found you in the kitchen, frantically cleaning and completely unaware of his presence. 

“Baby?” he asked cautiously, hesitantly approaching you. 

“'m’not going back t’bed,” you told him, not even looking at him.

“Okay,” he said. “Why not?” 

“Too much t’do,” you replied simply, trying to breeze past him. 

“Hey, whoa,” he called, gently taking hold of your shoulders. “Look at me.” 

“I’m fine,” you said automatically, meeting his gaze after he forced your chin up.

He took note of your distant gaze and pale skin, practically burning under his touch. Suddenly, everything seemed to click into place. “You’re really not, sweetheart,” he determined, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You have a fever. Which means you haven’t even been taking your meds, have you?” 

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at his question, before you averted your gaze in guilt. “No.” 

Dean wanted to be mad at you. Well, truthfully, Dean was mad at you. You’ve been doing seemingly everything you could to prevent yourself from recovering, while Dean was trying as hard as he could to help you. He wanted to yell at you, but more importantly, he just wanted to understand. 

“Why?” he asked gently, softly running his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks. 

“They make me groggy,” you told him.

“You mean they make you sleep,” he corrected, knowing what it was you wouldn’t say. “I don’t understand why you won’t let yourself rest.” 

You shrugged helplessly, feeling smaller than ever under his searching gaze. “I don’ like feelin’ useless.” 

“You’re not useless, baby. You’re sick,” Dean defended. 

“Still,” you said, not having a better argument. “I need t’help.”

“How about we make a deal?” he suggested, fully understanding how it feels to not want to lay around and not help with anything, all while everyone else seemed to scramble around.

“Like?” you wondered, lightly shoving him away so you wouldn’t sneeze on him. 

“Like,” he said, feeling more and more like this was the best idea. “You leave this mess as is, go take your medicine, and lay down with me.” 

“That’s not a deal,” you argued thickly. 

“I didn’t finish!” he said with a laugh. “You do that for me, and that disgustingly cheesy movie you love so much? Not only will I watch it with you from start to finish, but I won’t even make a single joke about it.” 

“But what about-” 

“Sam and I can handle the mess later,” he said with a sigh, already knowing what you would ask. 

“‘kay,” you sniffled. “Then deal.” 

“Good,” he grinned, not giving you a chance to change your mind and scooping you off your feet once more.

He made a stop at the bathroom first, so that he could help you freshen up and do your usual nightly routine. Lord knows he watched you do it enough times to know it step by step, and he was never more grateful for that than right now.

Once that was all taken care of, he took you to your room to get you fully settled for the night. He gently peeled off your lounge clothes to slip one of his clean sweatshirts over your head before tucking you into bed. He grabbed you a glass of water so you could take your medicine. He hunted down extra blankets to keep by the bed in case you got cold. He settled in beside you, setting up the movie as you nestled against his chest. 

It was barely even twenty minutes in by the time you were sleeping soundly in his arms. Dean smiled to himself, carefully landing a kiss on the top of your head as he carried on with the movie. 

He started to doze off about halfway through, and he knew in his heart that if this was the deal he’d have to make every night while you recovered, he’d gladly do so. There was definitely no shortage of these cheesy movies you loved, and there was nothing in the universe that mattered to him more than you and your wellbeing. 

Besides, even though he’d never admit, these romcoms you liked really weren’t half bad. 

taglist: @roseblue373, @redmaro86, @snowayumi, @iluvdeanwinchester, @winharry, @star-yawnznn, @jc-winchester

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(sorry for the double tag on this y'all, i'm stupid af lol)