After a bad injury and a tough surgery, you needed to go to quite a lot of checkups and doctor’s appointments. So here you are sitting in the sterile clinic, you bounce your leg anxiously, eyes darting toward every nurse and doctor that passes by. You’re supposed to get blood drawn today, which is your absolute biggest fear. The thought of the needle alone makes your stomach churn.

Dean notices. Of course, he does. He’s been watching you closely since you walked in, the tension rolling off you in waves. Without a word, he reaches over, resting a firm, grounding hand on your knee to still its movement.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he says, his voice calm, steady. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

You inhale sharply, gripping his other hand like a lifeline. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting stabbed.”

Dean chuckles, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “If I could take your place, I would.” He says, gently rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. You had of course come in way too early, wanting to get it over quickly but of course that doesn’t help, so now you’re stuck waiting in the waiting room.