You and Dean didn’t end on bad terms, the hunting life just made it difficult for the both of you. After the breakup, you always kept in contact and you whenever you found yourselves in the same town, you would share a bed. Everything was fine until Dean caught you at the tail end of a bad case. A few people had died, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t make yourself believe it wasn’t your fault. To add insult to injury, you never even caught the monster.
Dean was the first to call you after that and you took all your anger out on him. You told him you were tired of how stubborn he could be, tired of him only calling when he needed something, tired of having feelings for him and having to hold them back, tired of everything. You told him he made you miserable, and that you never wanted to hear from him again. You didn’t give him a chance to speak, you just hung up on him and didn’t answer the phone for two years.
Out of the blue, you called him three months ago to apologize. You gave a simple “I’m sorry” and he’d just said that everything was alright. Since then you worked a couple cases with him and Sam and everything did seem alright, you two continued on as if you never had that falling out. You had even slept with him just a month after apologizing. He had asked why you called him, of course, but you brushed it off as an issue of morals. You were wrong for blowing up on him and you needed to make it right, simple as that. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t as simple as that and for three months, you held on to your doubts.
You had your hands in your pockets, just waiting for the fire to die down when Dean appeared in the distance. He headed straight for the fire. He had a can of salt with him, but clearly, he had been too late.
“Is it over?” he asked as he walked over to you, setting the salt down and leaning next to you against the tree.
”Yeah,” you knocked his shoulder with your head, and he did the same to you. It was just a casual hello. “Sam texted me a minute ago. Everything’s clear. He said he’s heading back to the bunker.”
‘I think she’s done,” Dean said, pointing to the grave where the fire was dying down. The two of you grabbed the shovels on the ground and began filling the grave back up with dirt, effectively smothering the fire. “Still wanna grab that beer?” Dean asked as he patted the dirt with the shovel.
“Only if you’re buying,” you said with a smirk.
Instead of going to a bar, you and Dean had grabbed a six pack from the grocery store and opted for parking in an empty field near the bunker.
Neither of you had said much since coming out here. This silence that fell over the two of you was comfortable. You were on your second beer, Dean was on his third. You were sitting on the hood of Baby and Dean was leaning against her, his hip close to your knee. Neither of you were looking at anything in particular when you finally spoke up.
“Hm,” he hummed, swallowing his mouthful of beer and looked at you. You kept your eyes forward, playing with the nearly empty bottle in your hands.
“Can I just…” You paused for a moment, trying to find the perfect words for what you were thinking. “Can I just say something?”
“Of course, Y/N, What’s up?” Now having his full attention, he hopped up on the hood of the Impala with you.
“Remember when you asked me why I called you a few months ago and I said that I just needed to make things right?” You knew he remembered, but if you didn’t give yourself little breaks, you felt like you would explode.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“I lied, you know. That’s not why I called you. When I told you that you made me miserable, I was so angry at something else and I took it out on you. I felt ashamed, but I was too stubborn to ever try and fix it. One day I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
Dean stayed quiet. You lifted the beer to your lips, drinking the last of it, and putting it back in the cardboard case. You rested your elbows on your knees and clasped your hands in front of you. You still hadn’t looked at Dean since you started talking. You took a deep shaky breath and continued.
“The truth is I was miserable without you. I love you and I wish I’d never said those things to you.” Your voice betrayed you a little, cracking at the last word. Your heart began to race since you had no idea how Dean would react to your confession. “I know-” you took another deep breath, “I know you said that we were alright, but the little voice in the back of my head keeps saying maybe we aren’t.” You took another deep breath. “Did you really mean it?”
“Y/N.” Dean turned, completely facing you. You met his eyes for only a second before looking away. In that second you saw concern and maybe a little regret on his face. Dean hopped off the hood to stand in front of you. He grabbed your trembling hands.
“I just need to know if you really forgive me or not.” You kept your head down, refusing to look at him and whispering the last part. “It’s alright if you don’t.”
‘Please say yes,’ you wished silently. Before you knew it a few tears sprang from your eyes. This had been bothering you for a while now, but you hadn’t realized just how bad it had gotten. Dean placed his hand on your cheek, lifting your face so he could look you in the eyes.
He didn’t say anything, he just stepped closer and hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around your neck. You adopted a deathgrip on his shirt as the tears began to fall. Finally, he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours. “Y/N.” You kept your eyes shut tight. “Look at me, please?”
You forced your eyes open and he spoke again. “I forgave you before you hung up the phone.”
Dean dipped his head and pressed his lips to yours softly, muffling the little sob that came from you.
He hugged you again, and it felt like you were in that embrace forever before he finally said, “I love you too.”