It wasn’t the first argument you and Dean had gotten into, but this one was hitting a little harder. The bunker’s kitchen felt smaller, the tension between the two of you taking up all the space. His voice had been growing louder, more frustrated with every word, and you were getting more defensive. You had always felt safe with Dean—he had been your protector, your rock, but tonight things were different. Tonight, it felt like everything was boiling over.

“You don’t get it, do you?!” Dean’s voice cut through the air, harsh and sharp. “You can’t just keep shutting me out like this!”

His hand flew up mid-sentence, just a gesture to emphasize his point, but the moment his arm lifted, your body reacted instinctively. Before you could stop yourself, you flinched, recoiling as if bracing for a hit that wasn’t coming.

The room fell silent.

Dean froze, his hand still suspended in the air, and his angry expression melted into one of shock. His green eyes widened as he slowly lowered his arm, the realization crashing over him like a wave.

“Hey…” His voice softened instantly, all the fire gone. “Did you—?”

You swallowed hard, embarrassed and exposed, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your chest. You could see the regret in Dean’s face, the way his eyebrows knitted together in confusion and guilt.

“Shit,” Dean muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped back, giving you space, his hands now at his sides, as if he didn’t trust himself to move. “I didn’t mean—” He cut himself off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Your throat tightened, the memories of your past creeping in, uninvited. You hadn’t meant to flinch. It was instinct, a reaction born out of years of survival, but the look on Dean’s face made it clear he never expected to see you react to him that way.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. His eyes, filled with concern, searched yours, trying to understand. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice raw and filled with pain. “I would never- you know"