You’re sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, struggling to pull on your jacket when a knock sounds at the door. Expecting Claire or Sam, you call out for them to come in. To your surprise—and annoyance—it’s Dean Winchester who walks in, hands shoved in his jacket pockets.

“Heard you’re getting discharged. Figured someone should help you out before you fall on your ass.”

“Did Claire send you? Because I’m pretty sure she’d love to take this opportunity to avoid you.”

Dean smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a tension in the air, the kind that always lingers between the two of you. You’ve never liked each other, constantly butting heads about hunts, plans, and… everything. But here he is, the last person you expected to show up.

“Claire’s busy, and Sam’s checking out. So that leaves me. Lucky you.”

“Great. Just what I needed.”

Despite your protests, Dean moves closer, reaching for your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. His sharp green eyes glance at your bandaged side, and you swear there’s a flicker of concern, but he covers it up with a shrug.

“You gonna argue with me, or are you ready to go? Don’t think the nurses want you here any longer than you do.”

You sigh, biting back a sarcastic remark, and allow him to help you. As the two of you leave the hospital, there’s an awkward silence—different from your usual tense arguments. Once you’re in the passenger seat of the Impala, Dean glances over before starting the engine.

“Claire, Sam, and Cas all came by, huh? Guess I was the last on your list.”

“Didn’t think you cared enough to bother.”

Dean doesn’t respond immediately, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel as the Impala hums to life. Finally, he speaks, his voice quieter than usual.

“Look, I know we don’t exactly get along, but you scared the hell out of everyone. Even me.”

That admission hits you harder than you expect. You glance over at him, searching his expression for sarcasm, but there’s none. For once, he’s sincere.