Not The Reunion I Hoped For

The drive after work seems to go by in a blur. You walk inside your small house like a zombie. Muscle memory just takes control as you make your way inside then locking the door behind you. The dropping of your keys on the entryway table clinks loudly into the small bowl not even causing you to blink. You needed sleep from the exhausting whirlwind of a day. You cannot tell if the exhaustion is from the physical, mental, or emotional stress from the day. Hell, it's probably a combination of all three.

Trying to ignore thoughts of Dean creeping into your head, you begin your usual after shift routine with a quick dinner, shower to wash off the funk, and then collapsing on the sofa with a glass of wine. Your phone lights up with texts from your boyfriend, Ryan...Dr.Ryan Campbell. You pause on answering the texts simply because you just want to decompress from the long day. He finally calls which prompts you to go ahead and see why he is insisting you answer.

It's simple at first but then Ryan asks you the one question that you've been hoping he wouldn't ask you. "So, the FBI agents that came to the hospital...the one in room 203 with you," Ryan lowered his voice amongst the hospital chatter in the background. "...I just couldn't figure out why he looked so damn familiar and then it hit me. That's him, isn't it?" The sound of his pen rapping against the desk distracts you until he repeats your name, angrily the second time.

"Yeah, um, Agent Walsh and his partner, Agent Berry. They just wanted to know about the weird occurrences with the deceased patients," you answered with a shiver going down your spine. If he only knew what really lurks outside those hospital walls.

"Cut the bullshit, (Y/N)," Ryan let out a low growl taking you a little by surprise. You give him a dirty look that he cannot see. "That's not what I asked, now was it? Is that Dean or whatever his name is? Not like you introduced us," Ryan inquired with a hint of jealousy. You sighed. "Anyday now would be nice, dear."

"Yeah, why? He was trying to be discreet so other patients and family members in the hallway would not overhear him asking me about deceased bodies looking as if something chowed down on them," You stand up in a huff and head for the kitchen to refill your glass. "Whats the issue?"

"The issue is that you failed to mention that he was coming to town. You also never told me he was a federal agent, (Y/N). What the hell?" Ryan snapped, then cleared his throat. "Listen, I just didn't like the way he was looking at you. And from what a couple of the nurses told me, he was flirting with you and, and...," he paused, then continued with a low chuckle of disbelief, "you shoved him at one point? Nice, sweetheart, real nice. Not how I want my girlfriend to be seen as someone shoving law enforcement around at the same place I work at!" The sound of jealousy grows in his voice. You take another deep breath and let it out trying to gain your composure.

"Don't call me that," you mumbled, hearing Dean's voice in the back of your mind. You freeze realizing what you said aloud.

"What?" Ryan asked on the other end of the phone.

"Nothing, look I am tired. I'm going to bed," as you try to hang up with Ryan, he begins to raise his voice but comes to a halt. That's when you overhear voices nearby in the background. Of course random co-workers will have him dial back the attitude instead of him having a little self-realization.

Ryan begins to apologize but you only give him a "mmhm" as a response. You are too tired to hear it. You just want to go to bed. Sure, you forgot to mention it to Ryan that Sam and Dean were coming to town. That's a lie—you kept it hidden the moment Jody told you. When Dean informed you about the visit himself, you barely slept.

Things were different lately with Ryan. He's been more jealous of other men being around you. The green-eyed monster reared its ugly head before but now, it seems it's been showing up more to the point you wonder if it's paying rent. He's tired, adjusting to a new group of residents and there's always the political/red tape things going on inside the hospital. That's what you are telling yourself for now. Relationships are complicated enough— add in a career in healthcare that has you constantly fighting against political red tape and pleasing every individual from patient all the way up the ladder to CEO— the stress of it all can trickle over into your personal life without warning.

"Listen, I gotta go. I have work tomorrow, remember? You only have clinic the next two days, so you get to sleep a little later," you down the rest of the red liquid in your glass and ignore his comment on how you are being difficult. The two of you begin to argue since you barely acknowledged him saying sorry. You hang up on him and let out a loud scream in frustration. Your stomach then forms knots causing you to brace yourself against the wall.

You're baffled by how one simple word said by Ryan annoyed you. It sounded like poison being spoken by him. Only Dean calls you that.

Sweetheart

********************************************Just as you are about to flip off the lights and head for bed, you hear a familiar sound of the sweetest car ever made in this country. A nest of butterflies form in your lower abdomen—different kind of nerves compared to just a few moments ago. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly while your feet paddle across the cold wooden floor. You hear the engine cut off and the door shut. As you take a peep out the small hole in the door, you feel the corner of your mouth lift up. You only look out the small hole to confirm what you already know. You unlock your door to greet the man strolling up to your apartment.

"Damn, sweetheart, do you just open the door for any strange man nowadays?" Dean laughed as the pace in his stride picked up. With a hand on a hip and the other one propped against the door frame, you send him a smile and a flirtatious eye roll. He stops short of the front porch letting his eyes roam over you.

"Don't stand there looking like that either. You kind of have me thinking about other things that I shouldn't be right now," Dean's brows go up as he lets out a low whistle. That's when you realize you are standing there in short shorts and a tank top without a bra.

Your face immediately flushes. You step back inside mumbling for Dean to lock the door behind him. His mustered laughter sends a grin to your face. You love hearing him laugh. His boots make their way inside your place as if they belong there. You wish you could see his dirty boots resting next to your tennis shoes every morning. It would make coming home after work a little less lonely.

The locks click having you let out a sigh of relief as you keep your back turned, wrapping yourself up in a small blanket from the back of your sofa. Dean tosses his keys in the same bowl as your's on the entry way table before closing the gap between the two of you. When you spin around, Dean is right there wearing a handsome smirk that has you reflect a goofy grin in return. He wraps you up in a hug that he's been dying to give you since he saw you earlier in the day at the hospital. Your body immediately relaxes in his strong embrace resting your head against his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head keeping his grip around you tight and secure. Neither of you say a word for several seconds. You finally break the silence floating in the air.

"Where's Sam?" You asked muffled against his shirt. His chest rumbles with laughter. You lean back raising a brow.

"Gee, thanks, sweetheart. Asking about my brother as I'm giving you a long, awaited hug is a sure fire way of killing the mood," Dean smirked, his fingers pushing back your hair away from your face. "I've miss you, ya know. I feel like you've been ducking my calls lately."

"Well, I've been busy," you mumbled, pulling away from Dean. You wrap your arms around yourself heading over to the barstool that lined the kitchen counter. You hop up on the stool crossing a leg over the other while facing Dean. He gives a half-shrug with his hands shoved in his pockets as he strolls over to you. Without hesitation, he grabs your hands resting in your lap on top of the blanket

"With a guy?" Dean's question gut punches you. His eyes do not meet your's, but stay focused on the way your hands fit perfectly together. Your breath hitches in your throat. "I take that long pause is a yes. Is it that new doctor you went on some dates with?" You can hear a hint of hurt laced in his voice. Your leg begins to bounce. You definitely are not in the mood for this particular conversation. Not that you ever will be.

"Yeah," is all you can say keeping your head hung avoiding seeing his reaction. You watch him give your hands a good squeeze before he steps back. Glancing up, you tilt your head observing him pace the small area separating the kitchen and living room. "Dean, I did not know what would come-,"

"Look, it happened so, whatever...I'm happy for you," Dean interrupted, shifting his glare over to you before focusing back down at the floor his boots were starting to create a hole in. He shakes his head, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he tries to keep his jealousy in check. "I knew something was different with that interaction between you and that doctor today. That's him isn't it?," Dean continues to shake his head. He proceeds murmuring too low of comments to himself for you to hear.

Part of you wonders if you purposely try not to hear what he is saying knowing that they could be hurtful. That even though you knew Dean would find out about Ryan, saying it all out in the open makes it all too real—that you and Dean will never have anything together.

You hop off the barstool and lightly step over to him. Your soft touch on his arm has him come to a halt. Dean doesn't look at you. Instead, he puts his hands up causing you to retreat. "I'm fine, (Y/N). I'm fine. It's not like I expected us to fuck around or anything. Not looking for a piece of ass. So just don't give me some sort of pity party, alright?" Dean jerks his neck towards you with a tight-lipped smile. You swear you can see the vein about the pop out of his neck the way his obvious anger takes over his body.

"WOW, fuck around? Piece of ass?" You scoffed, eyes blown at his remark. "Oh, you mean have sex? Fuck? That sinful act we did forever ago that we dare not discuss?" You cross your arms over your chest sending him a hard glare. "If that's all that I am to you, then maybe it's best you should go. I have work tomorrow, a real job to go to ya know," the petty comment slips out before your brain can tell your mouth to shut it. Too late now, might as well own it. Your eyes narrow at Dean who observed you carefully before he stalked up to you.

"Now you know better not to think that's the only way I see you, so forgive me for the choice of words, sweetheart. What we did that time that we do not discuss, was not us fucking around. That time meant a hell of a lot more than you will ever know! I would not have stayed more than one night if that was the case," Dean sneered inches from the poker face you had on display. His breathing quickens alongside his eyes that drop into a sultry gaze drinking you in.

Damn, he looked so good all fired up.

Your brave face begins to fall the more you take in the sight of him. All the years of fighting and never giving up shows all throughout his matured, handsome face. Using a gentle touch, you rest your hand against his cheek. His eyes close soaking up the moment. Opening them, he places a hand over yours with a heavy sigh.

"Sorry for losing my cool. I better go so you can go to bed," Dean murmured, pulling away dreadfully from the touch he missed. Your hand falls to your side wishing things were different for the two of you.

Dean heads to grab his keys not wanting to leave. His feet barely move as he stands in front of the small entryway table that displayed various photographs, particularly ones of you and him. In a desperate attempt, you rush up to him grabbing his hand by surprise. Dean turns on his heel tilting his head. His hair slightly falls near his eye calling out to you to rake your fingers through it.

"Can we-can you just stay....like old times? It's better than that motel I'm sure. I feel better knowing you are here with whatever is running around in Sioux Falls," your request comes tumbling out of your mouth with your heart racing in your chest. A desperate plea. Dean drops his head, rubbing the nape of his neck.

Dean looks around the living room weighing his options. His heart ached to be close to you again. It's not in the cards now though. Dean tries to think of an excuse on why he cannot stay besides the "you have a boyfriend" excuse but he also remembers you only asked for him to keep you safe, not sleep together. He knows if he's not careful that there's a good chance he will say fuck it and throw caution to the wind. Dean does his best to look anywhere but your eyes because he knows the moment he sees your pleading stare he's done for.

He fails.

Dean shares a quiet glance with you that has him agree to stay the night. The breath you have been holding awaiting his answer is finally released. He takes his phone out his back pocket to send Sam a quick text. You go to turn off the lights saying you will meet him in your bedroom. He's always stayed in your bedroom so the words roll off your tongue. Except this time....Dean flips the script.

"Wait-," Dean paused. You turn around arching a brow wondering what he is about to say. You watch his long strides close the space between you feeling as if something is wrong. "I am, um, I'm going to sleep on the sofa tonight. I need to do some research and don't want to keep you up, (Y/N)." He shoves his hands into his front pockets rocking back and forth on his heels.

Your mouth slightly parts as your breath hitches in your throat. A nervous knot develops in your stomach feeling as if it's pushing your heart into your throat. "Oh, okay....," you answered quietly putting on a brave front. "Yeah, um, no that uh...yeah, absolutely," giving him a weak smile, you head back down the hallway hastily to your bedroom. The door practically slams behind you from being in such a hurry to get away from Dean. You did not want him to see your emotions written across your face. As soon as you lock the door, you head into the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom and cry behind the closed door.

Heat rises to your cheeks feeling humiliated by the assumption of sleeping arrangements. You want to vomit thinking of how desperate you acted towards Dean. Not that it matters really. Dean pulls you close and then pushes you away when things begin to dance around the possibility of a serious relationship. Always the same excuse—he's too old for you, he's not the right choice, he will not live as long as you because of hunting, that you need someone who can take care of you—

"Fuck!" You kick your foot against the linen door across from you. A slight dent develops in the white wood. A manic chuckle fills the small space around you as your teary eyes study the small imperfection noticeable in the sleek design of the wooden door.

At least the damage is not as deep as what lies in your broken heart.