He looked a little awkward as he stood and fiddled with his hands – he didn’t like sure as to whether he should stay or go. I grinned at him as he walked briskly back to my room and put me on the bed. He nodded, and I made a move to stand, but Dean was faster than lightning, and his warm hands wrapped around me again – and the ground disappeared under my feet. “Can I go back to my room, now?” I asked in a small voice. When I had finished, he smiled gently at me. I wolfed down the left-overs as he stared at me. He took the food with a grunt, sat it down in front of me, and sat himself down on a chair across the table. He looked at me with disbelief radiating from his body, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the microwave beeped. I just want to gank the demon and that’s it.” I said slowly. “Hey, how are you? Really?” Deans asked with worried eyes. “Chinese it is!” He quickly moved to the microwave, punched the start-button and the familiar whirring filled the room. He bent down to look in the fridge, and laughed triumphantly, holding a box of left-over Chinese up. “Just give me some food, Dean.” I said with a sigh, as I rubbed my ribs – sometimes I felt an imaginary stab from the scar, almost as if it remembered what had happened. “That was one time, I was drunk, and I forgot to add water. You’ve literally burned pasta.” He glared at me. Or you know, re-heat something.” He shrugged. He smiled, his eyes crinkling slightly in the corners. “Sorry, are you going to cook?” I asked incredulously. “What do you want?” He asked, and I snorted. He sat me gingerly down on a chair and clasped his hands together. He carried me from the corridor (where was I even?) and walked in silence, until we reached the kitchen. I don’t think he thought, that I had heard him, so he hadn’t brought it up either. I was curious, though, but I was afraid of his reaction. I was afraid of bursting a bubble, crossing a line – he might not have meant it, I had thought several times, but had been in the throes of fighting and just… Let his emotions run wild. I was weird to me, this new Dean – I still hadn’t gotten courage enough to ask him about what I overheard in my almost-dead-state. I’m hungry.” I mumbled back, letting my head rest against his chest. “Where are we off to, Miss?” He smirked down at me. I don’t think you should.” He grumbled back. I can walk around, you know:” I murmured as he scooped me up in his arms with a firm grip. “Dean, I’m fine.” He raised his eyebrows. He had been incredibly protective of me since I woke up, not letting me walk around on my own (barely letting me walk, actually) and if I did want out of bed, he had his big hands around me, almost carrying me everywhere. “Woah, easy there, tiger, you shouldn’t even be out of bed.” He grumbled. Big hands caught me around my waist, before I was even halfway around. “Y/N?” Dean’s voice, full of worry and fear, sounded behind me. I grimaced as I turned a corner, because I accidentally put a bit too much weight on my foot, and I whimpered with pain. So, here I was, hoppling down the long, winding corridors on one foot and a lung, that wheezed every time I drew breath. I hoppled around the bunker in search of the boys – Dean had stopped sleeping in a chair next to my bed a week ago, so I had woken up alone. I was a little scared, it might never get right again. My wrist had healed just fine in two weeks, but my right foot was still struggling, my ankle wasn’t really up for the whole idea of putting weight on it. Now, almost a month later, I still struggled t breathe right my lung was healed, yes, but it felt as if it was scared so fill completely with air, so I was hissing more often than not.
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