You sighed as you let the door slam shut. Ignoring the sharp knock on the wall that signalled an annoyed neighbour, you ran a hand over your face, dropping your bag and throwing your shoes off. God, were you tired! Your bones ached, your eyes were droopy, and it had honestly taken too much effort to just focus on not killing anyone while you drove. Luckily, there were no deaths or injuries, and somehow, you had managed to get home in one piece without so much as a stretch...from any possible car crash, anyway.
From the Demons, however...
Your stomach suddenly rumbled, emitting a large, painful growl that reminded you of the big leader Demon you had to fight. There had been four of them, and that should have been simple, would have been, had it not been for two of those being quite strong, and the others being two of the 'higher up' Demons, which meant naturally they were stronger, faster and just that much more a bastard. You'd been able to prevent getting many injuries, though, which you thought was a plus since you were alone fighting those four. So you were quite proud of the few you got; one main injury scratched across your left forearm and a few cuts and bruises here and there.
That growl echoed out once more, seemingly louder this time, and you sighed. Of course. Well, sorry stomach, I hadn't really much time to grab a bite to eat before my car was being banged into by an angry group of bloody Demons! You mentally cursed in your head, and then stopped when you realised you had been talking to your stomach. Yeah, you really need to get some sleep.
Sighing, you hung your coat up and walked into your kitchen, which was only a few steps away from the front door. You lived in a relatively nice and spacious apartment, with an okay view of the local park. Occasionally, when you didn't have hunting to do or an angry boss yelling down the phone at you for being 'ten minutes late, again!', you'd look out the window and just watch the world go by. There was always someone walking by, be it a couple of kids laughing and joking or a couple arguing, sometimes even just one person walking by themselves. It was nice to just see the normal people, the people you saved from your world.
There were times you wished there was somebody to save you, but this life doesn't call for heroes. Just people who know who to shoot and not die, or freak out when in the face of danger.
Finally, after what felt like a long journey, you arrived in your kitchen. Switching the light on, you fully expected an empty kitchen, bare of living life, just dirty plates and utensils littering the place.
You did not expect to see Dean Winchester sitting at your island, his face leaning against a clenched fist as he stuffed his face full of pie.
You gasped (because you did not squeal, Hunters do not squeal!) loudly, a hand flying instantly to your speeding heart. Your gasp seemed to startle the eldest Winchester brother, and you were forced to watch as he jumps too quickly, causing him to lose balance and fall off the seat. Shocked, you ran over to him, worried he may have hurt himself- only to see the ridiculously funny scene of him staring wide-eyed up at you, pie running down his face from where it'd be thrown into the air as he fell.
He stared at you with a look of confusion, as if he was a bit dazed. He must have hit his head pretty bad, you thought and bit your bottom lip, sighing as you walked over to him. You grabbed some kitchen roll sheets before bending down and wiping the remaining pieces of pie off his face, smiling all the while.
"What are we going to do with you?" You joked, which seemed to snap him back to reality. He shook his head a little, blinking to get rid of the blurriness and then glared at you.
"Uh, excuse me, you're the one sneaking up on me like some crazy ninja!" He retorted back, to which you just chuckled at and grabbed his hand, helping him to stand as you did so yourself.
"Well, if someone hadn't sneaked into my flat like some creepy stalker, I wouldn't have been startling. Speaking of which, how did you get into my flat? I made sure it was both Demon-proof and Winchester-proof before I left."
He pretended to laugh before giving you a playful glare, and you stuck your tongue out at him playfully. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself before clambering back to his seat, flopping down into it.
"It's a secret," He answered. You huffed and followed him, sitting in the seat next to him, half-turned his way as you demanded, "Just tell me."
"Ah, but it wouldn't be a secret then, would it?" He replied, winking playfully.
You tuttered and turned, hoping to anyone who would listen that Dean hadn't seen the blush his winking caused. Whether he did or not, you didn't know because a second later, he was standing up, seemingly forgetting about you. Walking over to the fridge, he opened it and began rummaging through it.
"Why are you here, anyway?" You asked as you stood up as well, stretching and yawning loudly. "I thought you were in England, having that date with Castiel."
That made him stop.
Quickly, with the speed of a thousand angry Demons, he looked over with his shoulder with a dark glower. You weren't affected, at all. In fact, all you did was laugh.
"We're not dating! Do people assume we are?" He exclaimed, his voice going a notch higher than was really necessary. You shrugged, suddenly quite tired, maybe too tired to eat despite the rumbling in your tummy.
"Well, I'm not sure about everybody else, but I know Sam and I do."
He rolled his eyes and went back to searching through the fridge, replying to your question, "Yes, I was in England - no, not for a date! - but the hunt ended sooner than we expected, so Sam thought we should stop by, see how you're doing. Of course, that fight you had was taking a while, so he went to book us a hotel room. He said he'd be back, don't know when though. Oh, and by the way, how did that fight?"
You groaned in response and Dean chuckled. "That bad, huh?"
You sighed and shrugged again, this time pulling at the wound on your arm. With the adrenaline now gone, the pain shot through your arm, quickly numbing your body into an almost agonising state. You bit your lip to prevent the hiss from coming through; however, it was too late. The sharp hiss caught the attention of Dean, who quickly looked up and over at you.
"What's wrong?" He asked, concern filling his eyes for a second before disappearing. You were one of the few he didn't hide his concern behind sarcastic remarks from - well, most of the time, and you were proud of that.
"I'm alright." You tried to reassure, only for him to roll his eyes and walk over to you, letting the fridge door shut by itself. He grabbed your first aid kit on his way over, and laid it on the table, forcing you to sit down. He demanded you remove your shirt sleeve. Huffing, you decided to just do as he said - if only because you were tired and just couldn't be bothered to fight against him -, and carefully lifting the left sleeve up over the wound, hissing as it caught a little on the ripped skin.
As Dean got to work, he went onto uncharacteristically tell you off about being 'reckless' and 'stupid' for not calling either of them, showing his worry in those rushed, stern sentences.
"It's not like both of us needed to be there. Seriously, after finding the Demon, I ended up wondering London for a bit while Sam comforted and explained everything to the victim's family. I was bored! I would definitely have come running if you called!-" He seemed to pause suddenly, the blood-soaked cotton ball stopping half-way from nearly being dropped into the bin.
He stared at you, and if you hadn't known any better you would have thought there was a slight redness on his cheeks. But you did know better, and you knew enough to know he wouldn't like you like that. He didn't do emotional relationships, he didn't do emotions.
So, instead, you just waited for him to carry on, feeling the fatigue of the hunt weighing down on you.
"Could you hurry up, Dean, please? 'Cause I'm gonna fall asleep on you if you don't." You attempted at joking, but what really came out was a set of sluggish, drunken words all mixed into one. This snapped Dean out of his staring and he coughed awkwardly, nodding and going back to carefully disinfecting and dressing your wound at a quicker speed.
Once he finished, he went to pack away the first aid kit, silent and almost broody, and you stood up sluggishly. You were so very tired, you were sure you'd just sleep a whole week if you could, but you had to get up early tomorrow; another hunting job was taking place in India, and you had to get there within forty-eight hours. You really needed to get at least a couple of hours of sleep before you had to get up.
So, you turned to Dean and hugged him. He went rigid for a few seconds before slowly, almost reluctantly, relaxing.
"Thank you for bandaging the cut." He gave you the slightest smile ever, but it still warmed your heart up. Beaming, you leaned up and pecked him on the cheek, before grabbing his hand and guiding him over to the sofa.
Laying down on it, you dragged him down until he was beside you and then snuggled into his chest. Yes, you joked about the relationship between that Angel and Dean, but you both knew who Dean's heart really belonged to - and it certainly wasn't Castiel. You smiled a little and closed your eyes, the soft beats of Dean's heart lulling you to sleep.
(An hour later, when both you and Dean were asleep, your legs intertwining with each other's, Sam Winchester walked in, and just as he was about to call out, he noticed his brother and you. He smiled and left a note stating which hotel he was in and what the room's number was, and then he quietly left, glad his brother had finally found someone - though knowing he would never admit it.)