Dean's heart feels like it's being suffocated within the confines of the motel room. The space beside him on the bed is achingly empty, and he loathes the chill that blankets it, a stark reminder that you usually lie there, your warmth enveloping him. Earlier, after returning from a hunt, an argument had ignited between you two. Dean's anger flared when you risked yourself to save a stranger, despite the very purpose of the job being to ensure others’ safety. The thought of losing you and how easy it is to on a hunt sent his protective instincts into overdrive, yet he’s never been adept at expressing his emotions. Instead, that fear twisted into a simmering rage.

Now, a wave of loneliness crashes over him, weighing heavily on his heart. You had chosen another motel room, seeking the space you both needed, but he can’t shake the selfish urge to be near you. He slips out of bed, throwing on a top and exiting, before quietly stepping into your room. His eyes soften as he finds you nestled under the covers, and he gently shuts the door behind him. Moving closer, he slides into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist, nuzzling his face into the back of your head. He presses a tender kiss into your braided hair, and even before you turn to face him, his familiar scent envelops you, confirming who it is.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Dean’s gruff voice barely breaks the silence, a testament to his discomfort with apologies, yet the sincerity behind his words is unmistakable. Being in your presence, the suffocating weight around his heart lifts, replaced by the love you give him that he desperately craves.