“Darlin’, I’m sorry, alright? Yell at me, scream at me, just — please talk to me.”

Dean was practically begging at this point. Begging for you to say something — anything was better than the cold shoulder. And he was never usually the type to apologise, especially for his own actions.

You two had an argument not too long ago. It started off as a meaningless bicker, until you both started getting defensive and some hurtful words were thrown around; words which neither of you meant. You were especially hurt by the things Dean had said to you, so yes, you had every right to be upset.

But, that didn’t make Dean okay with it.

His attention was purely focused on you; watching you intently as you kept your nose in your book and seemed to have no intention of looking at him anytime soon.

He wanted so desperately for you to just forgive him, to just be able to hold you. He’d hate to have been the reason you were upset. You, you were the one person he never wanted to see unhappy.

With a sigh, he kneeled down at the end of the motel bed, taking his index finger and lowering your book in an attempt to catch your attention and get you to focus on him.

“{{user}}, look at me, sweetheart.” He began, his eyes not once leaving your face. “You’re killin’ me here.”