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wonderswritings · 4 years

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Flight

Summary: Boise is expecting you, your brother, your husband and the residents to help with their conjoined twin surgery. You’re all prepared to go, practicing for weeks for the surgery except you never make it to Boise. Well, not for the reason you were going at least.

Warnings: Angst, Blood, Miscarriage, Depression, PTSD?

Pairings: Mark Sloan x Wife!Reader, Derek Shepherd x Sister!Reader

@redama: Mark Sloan x wife!reader? Where during the plane crash the reader is on the plane as well. I want it to be angsty and Mark is completely in love with reader and Lexi is just a friend and nothing more. If you decide to stick with what happened in the show and Mark dies then have the reader die in the woods please. If Mark lives then maybe the reader can live too. I've always liked Mark and I feel like his character development was wasted when he died. Thanks in advance!!!

AN: Dude I literally just watched the airplane episode! First four times I watched it didn’t cry, this time, tears. So I'm fresh off the angst train for you! And I definitely agree with you, they did Mark dirty. 💙

So for this, Mark did not sleep with Callie! More like it was just a sperm donation so she could have a baby but they did not sleep together!

Every medical term used that was not in the episode was taken from sites on google.

Please do not read any further if miscarriage is a trigger for you! I didn’t go into detail about how but I know it can be triggering for some!

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“You son of a bitch. I had to hear it from Hunt? What you couldn’t even be man enough to tell me yourself?”

“Sweetie.”

Callie turned towards Alex, sighing softly.

“She has had a horrible day, I am so-”

“No, you ungrateful crap dog!”

“Robins they want me. Alright, they really want me.”

“It’s Hopkins. You went there. You of all people should know that.”

“You are a miserable, miserable bastard.”

Arizona stepped back, gasping.

“Oh well you, you’re actually going?”

“Can we talk about this when I get back?”

“No!”

Arizona grabbed the charts from Alex, bringing them to her chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Look at Alex, showing us all up by going to Hopkins.”

“No you are not going to Boise because you no longer represent this hospital!”

“Oh give me a break!”

I grinned as I handed the nurse my chart, walking past them.

“If Robins lets him live that long.”

Meredith and Cristina laughed, the two carrying on with their conversation as I stopped in front of Mark and Derek.

“Think Arizona kills him before we leave or when we get back?”

Mark grinned, laughing.

“Arizona won’t kill him, yet. There’s to many witnesses.”

I laughed, shaking my head as Derek handed me my jacket.

“Fine you know what? Forget the charts. Go see if they need help in the clinic.”

“I’ve been prepping for this surgery for days!”

Alex ended up walking away as Callie tried to calm Arizona down, Mark wrapping his arm around me as we walked out of the hospital, Mark helping me onto the bus before he was putting our things in the back, helping Derek. It was a quick ride to the airport, our bags being taken as we boarded the plane. I took my jacket off as I sat down, Mark coming in after Derek and Meredith who sat behind us.

“Oh this is crap!”

“You know what? Fine! Fine!”

“You okay? I know you don’t like to fly.”

I smiled, taking Mark’s hand in mine.

“I’ll be okay. You’re here with me.”

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A month ago, you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your arena. How well you play, that’s up to you.

“Mer? Meredith! Meredith! Get up! You have to get up, now! Meredith! Get up!”

Meredith groaned as Cristina pulled her up, looking around. She could see a part of the plane and Mark, Arizona screaming.

“How long was I out?”

“I don’t, I-I don’t know. I lost my, I lost my shoe!”

Meredth gasped as she pulled the shard of glass out of her leg, wrapping the shirt around it.

“Where’s, where’s Derek and Lexie?”

“I don’t, I don’t know. I lost a shoe.”

“What happened?”

“The plane crashed, that’s what happened. We were in a plane and it crashed! Plane crash.”

“Where is Derek?”

Meredith’s voice carried as she looked around, turning.

“Cristina, where is Derek?”

“He was sucked out the side when we hit the trees, and then the back of the plane came off. It came, it came off.”

Meredith reached back, feeling something wet on her fingers.

“Lexie and Y/N were in the back of the plane.”

“I-I looked to the back and all I could see was freaking sky.”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know! I only have one shoe!”

“I’m bleeding.”

Cristina turned towards Arizona, yelling.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

Arizona whimpered when they heard something banging, looking around for the source.

“Do you hear, do you hear that sound?”

“There.”

Arizona pointed towards the hill.

“It’s coming from over there.”

It took them some time, walking up the hill and over the broken tree’s when they stopped, seeing the tail end of the plane.

“Derek! Lexie! Y/N!”

They looked around, seeing movement from under the bed.

“Lexie.”

Mark got down on the ground, laying on his front as he reached under, placing his fingers on Lexi’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

“Lexie. Lexie.”

“I knew you'd show up.”

“How is she?”

Mark turned back towards Meredith, nodding slightly before he looked back over at Lexi.

“She's awake and responsive.”

“How you doing in there?”

“I'm, I'm great.”

“Yeah?”

Mark smiled softly, nodding.

“Good girl.”

“We're gonna get you outta here, okay?”

“Okay.”

Mark got up, placing his hands on his knees, his breathing laboured.

“She's tachycardic and short of breath.”

“We have to find Derek and Y/N.”

“We've got Lexie. So go. Go find him. Go, go. Go try and find them.”

“Okay, you know what?”

Cristina nodded, turning towards Meredith.

Meredith nodded, turning when Mark called out.

“Wait a minute.”

He got back down on the ground, looking over at Lexi.

“Lexi, Lexi where is Y/N? Did you see her?”

Lexi coughed as she slowly shook her head.

“She, she was walking by me and then she was gone.”

Mark clenched his jaw as he nodded, getting up and looking over at Meredith.

“Keep an eye out for Y/N? She’s out there somewhere.”

Meredith nodded as she turned, calling out for Derek and Y/N.

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Cristina could just barely hear Meredith calling out for Derek and Y/N as she walked back towards the plane, her arm in a sling made out of a shirt. Cristina started grabbing some sticks, a piece of metal she had found that was still in good shape, a shirt and a belt, throwing it down beside Arizona, kneeling in front of her.

“I’m gonna try and splint this.”

“No I can do it. I can do it.”

She sniffled as she grabbed the belt from Cristina, looking up towards the plane.

“Uh, Jerry needs c-spine stabilization.”

“Who's Jerry?”

Cristina gave Arizona the things she had grabbed, looking over at her when Arizona nodded up towards the plane.

“How are you doing there, Jerry?”

Cristina made a face as she got up, huffing.

“I give us four hours tops before they find us.”

Cristina stopped in the doorway, leaning against it.

Cristina walked around the plane to the opening in the back.

“There's a transmitter in the plane that lets out a squawk that should lead 'em right to us.”

“Did you find Derek?”

“Uh, not yet. Uh, Jerry, uh, do you, uh, have any tape?”

“In the cabinet to your left. There's a flare gun in there, too.”

“Uh, yeah. In the bulkhead.”

Cristina nodded, turning and opening the cabinet.

“Yes.”

“You hear a chopper, you fire it straight up.”

“And Lexie?”

“Not good.”

Cristina went to turn when she saw a broken board, picking it up.

“Oh, great. Great, great, great, great, great.”

Cristina placed the board behind Jerry’s back, pulling the tape and cutting it with her teeth.

“What about Y/N?”

“We can’t find her.”

Arizona yelped as she twisted the stick, whimpering.

“Okay, keep your head very still.”

Cristina wrapped the tape around Jerry’s head, checking to make sure it was secure.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Good, good.”

Cristina leaned forward, sighing softly.

Cristina turned, sighing.

“Jerry, is there a first aid kit?”

“A yeah, a big one. In the cabinet on your right, behind the cockpit.”

“There's no cabinet there.”

“Just tell her to hang on for another four hours.”

Cristina grabbed the backpack from the ground, yanking the cabinet open, pushing the water bottles out, falling to the ground as she stuffed them into the bag.

“Great.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Hey, hey, wait. Don't leave! I-I can't feel my legs. That's because I'm trapped, right? I mean, I'm gonna be okay, right? I'm not paralyzed. I'm gonna walk again. I'm gonna be okay, right?”

Cristina made a face as she zipped the backpack up, getting up and turning back towards Jerry. She grabbed the pen she saw, picking it up and slamming it into Jerry’s leg.

Cristina grabbed what she could carry, placing the backpacks on her shoulders as Arizona screamed and cried.

“Cristina.”

Cristina stopped, turning as Meredith walked towards her.

“I can't find him. I can’t find him or Y/N. I looked everywhere. I can't find him.”

Cristina nodded, walking towards Meredith.

“Maybe he's fine. Maybe he went for help.”

“Maybe, but I gotta, I gotta keep looking.”

Cristina shook her head, looking in Meredith’s eyes.

“No, Meredith. You should come help Lexie.”

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First it was cold. Then it was hot. Searing hot. It felt like my entire body was on fire as I came to, gasping. I shook my head as I looked around, tilting my head to the side as everything was upside down.

“Wh-

“Y/N!”

I looked around, not seeing anyone but trees and a part of the plane. The plane was hanging in the tree above me, and I was upside down, my foot caught in a branch as the other dangled.

“Oh god.”

It took me some time to get my left foot onto the branch where my right foot was caught, any movement I made only causing me more pain. I closed my eyes once I was about to keep my foot on the branch, swinging back. I screamed, trying to grab onto anything to stop myself from swinging. I placed my hand on my chest, feeling around for any broken ribs, groaning when it felt like two were broken.

“Come on Y/N, you can do this.”

Gasping, I swung myself back, groaning as I tried to grab the branch.

“Come on, come on.”

My fingers skimmed the branch the second time, and I whimpered as I swung back a third time, grabbing the branch.

“Yes!”

It took longer than I’d like to admit, pulling myself up. Luckily Mark liked to work out in the mornings, the push ups I said I’d never need to use coming in handy. It was hard, pushing myself up and twisting so I could get my foot from the branch. Everything I tried to do only seemed to make it worse, and I knew the others were too far to help, and there was no telling what their conditions were. Before I could think too much about it, I yanked my leg really hard, gasping once it was free.

“Oh thank god.”

My relief was short lived as I lost my grip on the branch, hitting the branches as I fell to the ground, my eyes closing.

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“Derek! Derek! Y/N! Y/N!”

“I don't understand how this keeps happening.”

“Cristina, we have to find him.”

“I'm serious. I do not understand how this keeps happening.”

“We have to find him, because I don't think he went for help.”

“We keep dying. We're in a plane crash, Mer. Like, like right now.”

“If he went for help, if Derek had gone for help, he would've sent a message or something. I mean, we have to find him. Something is wrong.”

“I can tell you one thing. When we get out of here, I am getting the hell away from Seattle Grace mercy death, and I'm never looking back!”

“Cristina I think Derek is dead. “

Cristina turned towards Meredith, tears streaming down her face as she shook her head, waving her hand around.

“He would've come for us by now. He definitely would've come for us by now. I think he's dead. And Lexie's dead. And Y/N probably is dead. My husband and my sisters are all dead! And we are gonna die out here, too! We are gonna die out here-

Cristina placed her good hand on the side of Meredith’s face, shaking her slightly.

“Keep it together. Keep it together.”

Meredith shook her head, yelling.

“No, you keep it together!”

“I'm trying! I know. Keep keep it together anyway. Keep it together anyway.”

“My sister is dead.”

Crisitna’s face fell as she nodded, sighing.

“Keep it together anyway.”

“Do you think Derek and Y/N are dead?

“I don't know. Maybe. But I've got P.T.S.D., so you know I'm not reliable.”

“Cristina You are still my person, even if I'm not yours.”

Meredith started to cry, causing Cristina to start to cry.

“Meredith, Meredith.”

“Meredith.”

They both turned, seeing Derek stumbling towards them, cradling his hand to his chest. “Oh, I heard your voice. I thought, I, I thought I was dreaming.”

He fell to the ground, Meredith gasping as she walked towards him.

“Oh, my God.”

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Cristina was rummaging through their things in the plan3, pulling out what they could use.

“Oh, I found it!”

“The first aid box?”

“My shoe.”

“Is she gonna be okay?”

“She's not barefoot anymore.”

“Well, I guess that's something.”

Cristina placed everything in a suitcase after putting her shoe on, pulling it behind her as she walked back towards Meredith and Derek. Meredith was pouring the alcohol on Derek’s arm, causing him to yell.

“Aah! Son of a damn it.”

“I know.”

“Oh, son of a-”

“I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Where's Lexie?”

Meredith felt the tears coming again as Derek shook his head.

“No?”

“Oh.”

“Okay, let's just keep it together, okay?”

“What about Y/N?”

Meredith gasped, looking down at Derek.

“We haven’t found her. Mark went looking for her but I made him come back, I was scared he’d get lost.”

Derek nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Loosen the tourniquet a little bit.”

“You'll bleed to death.”

“I need to save my hand.”

“Well, I'm trying to save your life.”

“Okay, we have to close the wound.”

Cristina fell to her knees on the other side of Derek, laying the things she brought in front of her.

“Use the safety pin.”

Cristina handed Meredith the safety pin as Meredith looked down at Derek.

“Weave your way inside and out and then put the bandana on top of it and tape it.”

“And what's the what's the t-shirt for?”

“Put it in my mouth. I'm probably gonna scream a lot, and I'm gonna I'm gonna, I'm gonna pass out.”

Cristina placed the shirt in Derek’s mouth, holding it there as Meredith started to weave the safety pin.

“Okay. Good. Okay. Sorry. I'm sorry Please pass out. Please pass out. Please pass out.”

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Cristina gasped as she found matches, holding them up towards Meredith.

“Matches. Yes, God. Finally, fire. We can build a fire.”

“We should. They'll see a fire. Let's get a fire started.”

“Yeah, Mark. We need, we need to start a fire.”

Cristina bit her lip as she got up, walking towards Mark.

“Mark. Mark. You have to help.”

Meredith moved to get up, shaking her head.

“I-I'll figure out how to get it started.”

“No, no. You know what? He doesn't get to do this. He doesn't get to stop helping. I'm sorry we can’t find Y/N, but she was Derek’s sister, she was your sister, and you're still helping. He has to help because the sky is falling, Mark.”

“Cristina.”

Cristina turned back towards Derek, yelling as she waved her arm around.

“No, no, no. You know, if there's one thing that I've learned with all the the bombs and the guns to my head and and the buses running down my friends is that I am not interested in dying. I want to get out of here, and I want to go home. And everyone has to help. Mark, get up. Get up and help, Mark. Get up.”

Cristina placed her hand on his shoulder, causing Mark to fall forward, Cristina grabbing his face in her hand, feeling for a pulse.

“Mark? Mark? Mark? Mark. Please. Please be okay.”

She grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him down to the ground, ripping his scrub top.

“Mark. Oh! Oh, crap. Mer!”

Meredith helped Derek over to Mark, kneeling on Mark’s left as Derek kneeled beside Cristina who was listening to his heart.

“It's a cardiac tamponade.”

“Are you sure?”

“Seventy five percent. Seventy percent sure.”

Derek looked over at Meredith, making a face.

“That’s not very sure.”

“Well, if you want me to be sure, get me an ultrasound.

“We have to drain his pericardial sac and relieve the pressure, or or his heart will stop.

“With what? We don't even have an 18-gauge spinal needle.

“I don't know.”

“All right. Okay, I got it.”

Derek held the bottle towards Cristina, nodding.

“Okay. Hold this. Take the top off. Okay.”

“Why?”

“Use that right there.”

“Ohh.”

Cristina unscrewed the lid, pulling it out of the bottle.

“Use the tube.”

“Brilliant. Brilliant. Okay, this will work.”

Cristina held it out towards Meredith, leaning forward slightly.

“Sanitize that.”

“Is the tubing long enough?”

Cristina moved over to make room for Meredith, holding the tube.

“I'm going in, um, subxiphoid. Knife.”

Derek handed her the knife, Cristina spraying as Meredith cut.

Mark groaned, arching his back, Derek moving forward to keep him down.

“Okay needle”

“All right, Mark. Try not to move.”

“Easy, Mark. It's okay. Don't move. It's gonna be okay.”

“Aim for his left shoulder.”

“Wait. Don't puncture his heart.”

“I know, I know.”

Meredith stabbed the needle into Mark’s chest, Mark groaning.

“Deeper!”

Meredith pushed it deeper, blood pouring out of the needle.

“Good. Excellent. That's it. That's it. That's it. Great. Very good.

“It's gonna be okay.”

“That's good. That's it. That's exactly it.

“You did it.”

Cristina placed the bottle at the end of the needle as Derek sighed.

“Just let it drain into here.

“Oh, you did it. You got it.”

Derek kissed Meredith’s cheek as she nodded, smiling slightly.

“I got it.”

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Cristina and Derek pulled Mark in front of Arizona, gasping as Meredith sat down behind Arizona.

“Hey. Mark? What happened?”

“Tamponade. Mer did a pericardiocentesis.”

“Oh, my God.”

“He's holding on for now.”

Arizona turned her head to look back at Meredith, looking around.

“Where's Lexie?”

Arizona looked up at Derek and then back at Meredith, getting louder.

“And Y/N?”

“They’re dead.”

Arizona gasped as she held back her tears, looking down at Mark.

“So we should get a fire started.”

“Oh, I've got I've got the matches.

Cristina handed the matches to Derek, sighing.

“We have five left.”

Derek nodded as he walked by Meredith.

“Make it big so they see.”

Arizona leaned her head back, cutting her eyes over to where Jerry was.

“What happened to the four hours, Jerry? It's been more than four hours.”

“Shh. Listen.”

“What does that mean? I mean, does that mean that they're not coming for us? I mean, you said four hours. You said four hours tops.”

“Ch-chopper!”

Cristina stopped what she was doing as Derek looked over at her, both of them looking up towards the sky.

“Oh, my God. It's a helicopter!”

“Hey! Help! Help! Hey!”

“Where is it? I don't see it.”

“I don't see it.”

“Help!”

“Get the flare gun! The flare gun! In the bag! In the bag!”

Meredith turned, grabbing the flare gun.

“Oh, God, shoot it!”

“We're down here! Come back!”

Meredith took aim, pulling the trigger.

“Why isn't it working?”

“Shoot it again! Shoot it again!”

“Give it to me.”

Derek took the gun from Meredith, trying it.

“Help! Help!”

“Oh, my God, no! Help!”

“Oh, my God.”

Derek cut his eyes down at the flare gun, making a face before he threw it.

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Derek leaned against the side of the plane, listening to Jerry.

“Hey, they don't know where we are. They don't know where we are. It's because the transmitter's probably been damaged in the crash. If the transmitter's damaged-”

“We could be here for days.”

“Yeah.”

Derek looked over at Meredith, his face falling.

“Zola.”

Cristina turned towards Meredith, sighing.

“Owen has got to have figured out we're missing. I know he sent someone.”

Arizona was nodding off when Mark started to move, gasping and groaning. She woke up, looking down at Mark.

“Mark?”

His eyes were closed as she ran her fingers through his hair, her other hand on his chest when his eyes fluttered open.

“I shoulda said it earlier That I loved her. I shoulda said it earlier.”

“She, She knew. She knew Mark. Y/N knew.”

Mark slightly shook his head, groaning.

“She didn't know. She didn't know.”

His eyes started to close causing Arizona to panic, tears falling.

“Mark Mark, hold on. Okay, I need you I need you to hold on. You'll be okay.”

“You don't need me. You take care of our girls.”

“Shut up. Do you hear me? Shut up.”

“No. Shut up.”

Arizona gasped, shaking her head.

“Y/N's waiting for me. I'll be okay.”

“No! Mark Sloan, no! Hey! No. No. Sofia's waiting for you, and Callie is waiting for you, and I am waiting for you. We're gonna go home together, okay?”

Mark groaned as he nodded, his eyes closing.

“Inhh okay. Okay.”

“Okay. Okay.”

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When I opened my eyes again it was dark out. I groaned as I sat up, looking around. I nearly wept when I saw a small light, pushing myself to get up. I wasn’t even half way up before I was falling again, crying out. I had to crawl to the tree, using it for leverage as I pulled myself up. I was able to pull a broken branch, using it as a walking stick, walking towards the source of light.

Good morning, Dr. Hunt. This is Dr.Sheehan over at Boise memorial. I just wanted to double-check what time your surgeons were set to arrive today.

“I'm hungry.”

“Think of something else.”

“I'm hungry.”

“I have a stick of gum.”

“I don't want gum.”

“I want food.”

I gasped as I fell again, huffing as I looked up at the hill.

“Come on dammit!”

Dr. Hunt, Dr. Sheehan again. Still no word from your surgeons. I'm gonna check in with the airport to see if the weather held 'em up.

The fire slowly started to go out, Cristina grabbing a stick and pushing it, grabbing the box of matches, shaking it.

“Oh. Shoot.”

“Great. We have one match left.”

She turned towards Meredith, slightly pushing her.

“Hey. No sleeping.”

“Yeah.”

“You have to stay awake.”

“Okay.”

“Derek. Derek. You, too. I want everyone conscious!”

“Okay.”

Cristina held the match box open towards Meredith.

“Mer, light the match. Careful. It's our last one.”

Meredith swiped the match against the side of the box, the match going out before she could relight the fire.

“Meredith.”

Cristina and Meredith both looked up, looking over towards the tree line, gasping.

“Y/N.”

Derek woke up when Meredith pushed him, groaning.

“Wha?”

Derek looked to where Meredith was pointing, seeing his sister walking towards them, dried blood along her hair line, blood pouring from her side where her hand was.

“Derek.”

They all gasped when Y/N’s eyes rolled back, falling to the ground.

“Oh god.”

They all jumped up as Arizona shook Mark, smiling down at him.

“Mark, Mark, Mark it’s Y/N, she’s here. She’s okay.”

“She’s alive.”

Arizona nodded, gasping as she watched the three turn Y/N onto her back.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s alive. Y/N is alive.”

This is Dr. Sheehan again. We're starting to get a bit concerned here.

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I groaned as I came to, seeing a blurry Derek and Cristina, feeling hands pressing down on me causing me to scream.

“You’re going to be okay Y/N. You hear me? You’re going to be okay.”

Cristina. I’m pregnant.

I felt something pierce my side, causing me to arch my back as I groaned.

“I need you to stay still, okay? Just stay still. It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Meredith Why can’t you hear me?

“You’re doing so good sweetheart, just stay awake.”

Derek. Derek I’m pregnant.

“Hand me that shirt, I need to wrap this.”

Where’s Mark? And Lexi? Where are they?

“Oh god, her pupils blown.”

Cristina looked over at Derek, shaking her head.

“If we don’t get her out of here, she’ll die.”

“Let me see.”

Derek moved over me, shaking his head.

“No, it’s not blown, she’s always had a bigger pupil than the other.”

“I’m pregnant!”

Derek leaned back, his hand on my cheek, turning me to look at him.

“Y/N? Y/N did you say something?”

I gasped, my ears pounding as I looked up at Derek, tears falling down both our faces.

“I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant.”

Derek gasped, saying something to Meredith before I passed out again.

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“Where’s-where’s my sister? Where is Lexie?”

Meredith tried to take her oxygen mask as she shot up, grabbing the doctors arm beside her.

“Alright, hold on. Hold on.”

“No, no, no, no.”

“Where’s my husband and Cristina? Oh god where’s Y/N?”

“Lay back and relax.”

“I have to get-”

“Alright.”

“I have to get my sister and my husband.”

The heart monitor started to beep faster and louder as the doctor tried to get Meredith to lay back down.

“I-my sister, Y/N, she’s pregnant. She’s pregnant.”

“Hey you can’t go in there!”

“Don’t tell me where I can go.”

“Doctor we’ve got them. We’re taking care of them.”

“There’s an infection and I need to see him.”

“Move.”

The doors opened, Meredith stopping as she looked over, seeing Bailey and Webber, Bailey holding Zola in her arms.

“Hey, that’s your mama.”

Meredith sat up, holding her arms out as Bailey walked closer.

“Hey honey.”

Bailey handed Meredith Zola, whispering.

“You sit here.”

Meredith hugged Zola to her chest, Zola whining.

“Okay, okay. Mama’s here baby.”

“There we go.”

“No.”

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“Yes I’ll marry you, you dimwit.”

Her smile was contagious as he surged up, wrapping his arms around her, picking her up and spinning her around.

“Yes!”

Her laughter filling the air.

“Charge. Clear”

“What about babies?”

She shrugged, moving closer as she leaned her head back against his chest.

“Dunno. Not right now, but soon. We’d make some really pretty babies though.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms tighter around her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Have you seen you? Sculpted by the gods I tell you.”

“Yeah, I got a pulse.”

“I love you.”

She lowered the magazine she was reading, eyeing him over the top of it.

“What did you do this time?”

He laughed, grinning as he knelt beside her, pushing her chair out slightly.

“Nothing, promise.”

She laughed, running her fingers through his hair.

“Oh really?”

“Marry me.”

She laughed, pulling her hand back and lifting it in front of her.

“I think I already said yes dummy.”

“Marry me again.”

“I-okay.”

“Yeah?”

She shrugged, leaning down and kissing him.

“Yeah.”

“Dam this dude is trying really hard to die.”

“Have you told him yet?”

“No Alex cause I’m not.”

She turned against the desk, leaning against it as she gave Alex a pointed stare.

“Why do you think I am anyway?”

He shrugged, copying her stance.

“Dude I work with pregnant women everyday. You have the symptoms of a pregnant woman.”

She scoffed as she stepped closer to Alex, her finger hitting his chest repeatedly as she spoke.

“I am not pregnant.”

She walked off, and it was then he decided to step out, Alex jumping when he saw him.

“What was that about?”

Alex shrugged, grabbing his chart, running into the wall when he turned.

“I don't- It’s not my place to tell.”

“Clear.”

☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤

They came to a stop outside her room, Owen sighing when he saw her. They had her bed sitting up slightly, her eyes closed, the heart wave moving steadily.

“We had to do emergency surgery on her side. Apparently she had a piece of the plane in her side, and it tore her lung and liver. She had pneumothorax, which we were able to take care of with a chest tube. Her clavicle, as well as four ribs were broken. Unfortunately, her x-rays showed that her tibia was torn and her fibula was crushed. We had to perform surgery on the leg, but we have high hopes for it. Her t11, t12 and l1 are torn, but until she wakes up we won’t know the extent of it.”

“Is that it?”

She shook her head, looking down at the floor before she looked back up.

“She was pregnant, but she had a miscarriage before they were found.”

“Is that why she’s sedated?”

She nodded, placing her hands in her jacket pocket.

“Yes. She had woken up once she was stable and when she had found out, she had, she was angry and she acted out. She broke one of our nurses' arm so we had to sedate her.”

“Is she stable enough to fly?”

“Yes but-”

Owen shook his head, turning towards her.

“No, I am taking them all home, now. Meredith said that they all need to be sedated so do it. Discharge them and sedate them. Do whatever you have to do. It’s time they came home.”

☤☤Three Months Later☤☤

Mark came to a stop beside Derek, standing beside his chair.

“I don’t know- how can I be there for her if I don’t know how to help her?”

Derek sighed as he looked up, looking at Y/N. She was laying in the bed, her eyes closed. It was the most peaceful he’d seen his sister since the plane crash. This was the third time in three weeks she had to be sedated, but this was the first time she’d actually looked, calm.

“She just needs time Mark. She lost her baby, she almost lost you. She died, twice. It’s all just- it’s a lot.”

“I want to help her but I don’t know what to do. She won’t even let me touch her.”

“Have you, have you thought about sending her upstairs?”

Mark turned, looking down at Derek, glaring.

“I am not having her committed! No!”

“It may help her. This isn’t, she’s not well. She needs help, help you and I can’t give.”

“She’s my wife.”

“She’s my sister!”

Mark clenched his jaw as he turned back towards the room Y/N was in, shaking his head.

“I am not having her committed.”

Mark walked off, pushing the door to her room open, grabbing the chair and pulling it behind, setting it beside her bed, sitting down in it, taking her hand in his. Derek leaned back in the chair, watching them. Derek felt helpless only four other times in his life, when their father was shot and he was having to hold Amelia down, when Meredith drowned and then died, when he found out that his little sister was not only dating Mark, but planning on marrying him, and when he couldn’t perform surgery anymore. But right now, for these past few months, he’d felt helpless. He was the big brother, he was supposed to protect his sisters but how was he supposed to protect his little sister from this?

☤☤Four Months Later☤☤

I smiled at Mark as he grabbed the chair at the other desk, pulling it towards me and sitting down, kissing my forehead.

“Seven.”

“How bad is it today? Scale of one to ten?”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair, clicking my pen.

“Are you- are you okay?”

“That’s not too bad.”

“Yeah.”

I smiled softly over at Mark, nodding slightly.

“I’m okay.”

He nodded, leaning forward and kissing me.

“Okay. Page me if you need anything?”

I nodded, turning back towards the computer.

“I will, promise.”

He nodded, standing up and kissing my forehead.

“Okay. Love you.”

I smiled, nodding.

“Love you too.”

☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤

I was at home, sitting against the wall, my arms wrapped around my knees as I cried. I had the day off, so I decided to clean up the apartment. I had completely forgotten about the box, tucked away in the far corner of the closet, hidden behind blankets and other things. But I had decided to clean out the closet, and I had found the box. The box filled with the baby items I was going to give to Mark to surprise him with. The box was upside down on the bed, the scrub onesie laid out in front of me. It was blue like the attending scrubs, white lettering on the front of it. I thought it was cute, “My dads a surgeon, hero.” The surgeon marked out with hero underneath, a pair of stethoscopes hanging off the “o” in hero. I had gotten a little hat to, the same navy blue color like his scrub cap. I had even gotten a little toy stethoscope. I had completely forgotten about the sonogram, the picture being the bain of my existence.

“Y/N? Sweetheart you here?”

I gasped, reaching up and wiping my tears.

“Y/N?”

I heard Mark walk into the room, looking up when he kneeled in front of me.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

I nodded, sighing.

“Yeah, I just, I-I found the stupid box.”

“The box? What box?”

I nodded towards the bed where the things were laid out, watching as Mark turned towards the bed, squeezing my hand before he got up, walking towards the bed. He picked the sonogram up, gasping.

“Oh Y/N.”

“I had this big thing all planned out and I didn’t want you to find it so I had hid it in the back of the closet and since I had the day off I decided to clean up some and I was cleaning out the closet and I found it. I had, I completely forgot about it.”

I leaned down, placing my head on my arms, sobbing.

“Sweetheart, Y/N it’s okay.”

I gasped as Mark hugged me, pulling me into his chest, rubbing his hands along my spine.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We were going to have a family and it, we were going to be a family. I-It’s my fault I lost the baby. If I had just-”

“Hey no, no, no, no. It wasn’t your fault. It isn’t your fault. It will never be your fault. Please, please don’t think it’s your fault or even say that it’s your fault because it’s not. Okay? It’s not your fault.”

“But I was supposed to protect him. I was meant to keep him safe.”

“I’m supposed to keep you both safe. I’m your husband, and I promised to protect you no matter what. I failed, so technically it’s my fault.”

I made a face, leaning up and looking up at Mark, shaking my head.

“It-That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. And you’ve said a lot of stupid shit before.”

He laughed as I reached up, placing my hand on his cheek.

“Mark, you have to believe me, there is no way it was your fault. You-It isn’t your fault.”

“Then why are you saying it’s yours?”

“Because I- I was his mother. I was supposed to keep him safe for nine months, just nine months and I couldn’t even do that.”

“I was his dad. I’m supposed to protect him and you. But Y/N listen to me, what happened, it was out of our hands. There was nothing, no way we could’ve prevented what happened.”

“I could’ve not went. I could’ve stayed in Seattle. The board could’ve looked into the plane. Webber could’ve not planted the seed in Alex’s head to pit Seattle against another hospital making Owen have to cut the funding, making him have to sign for the change in planes.”

“Y/N-”

I shook my head, huffing.

“No, no! This is- all of this could’ve been avoided!”

Mark laughed, causing me to glare up at him.

“This is not funny. Why are you laughing?”

“You Shepherds, you all hold grudges. Derek held a grudge against Owen for weeks after we all got back. Guess now it’s your turn.”

I nodded, moving so I was leaning against Mark’s chest, my head resting in the crook of his neck.

“Seems bout right.”

Mark smiled as he kissed my forehead, squeezing me.

“Besides, we’re already a family, we’re just, expanding. And whenever you’re ready, we can always try again.”

I nodded, smiling as I kissed his jaw.

“Okay.”

“I love you, you know that right?”

I made a face, leaning up and placing my hands on both sides of his face, smiling softly.

“Of course I know Mark.”

I leaned down, kissing him.

“Of course I know you love me. I love you too.”

Mark grinned as he surged forward, pushing me onto my back, hovering over me, causing me to laugh as he kissed me.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I laughed, running my fingers through his hair as I grasped his bicep.

“I love you too you idiot.”

The years we spend as surgical residents will be the best and worst of our lives. We will be pushed to our breaking point. This is the starting line. This is our arena. How well we play, that's up to us.

☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤

As Always, Reblogs, Comments and Likes are Always Appreciated!

☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤☤

shit that got long, like suppppper long... sorry!

#greys anatomy x reader #mark sloan x reader #greys anatomy oneshot #mark sloan oneshot #greys anatomy imagine #mark sloan imagine #greys x reader #greys oneshot #greys imagine #derek shepherd x sister!reader #shepherd!reader #mark sloan x wife!reader #sloan!reader

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Brutal (Dean Winchester x Reader)

✾ A/N: More Dean x reader content, but angst this time! Reposting because I had to edit a few things. Gif's credits on it. Based on the song ‘from the dining table’.

✾ Summary: Unlike her boyfriend, Dean Winchester, the reader wasn’t raised as a hunter. At first, it seems like a hard but worth it job. Unfortunately, you didn't have in mind how brutal all of it could get.

✾ Words: 3k.

"YOU ARE NOT YOURSELF ANYMORE, DEAN!"

The discussion over a delicate subject at the dining table was blossoming into something bigger. (Y/N) was on her feet, shouting at her boyfriend with a shaking voice; a manner that was very uncommon. You were used to Dean being stubborn, and you were not behind him in this aspect which caused a few disagreements here and there. That certain argument, though, was definitive in every meaning of the word.

"I HAVE ALWAYS MADE IT FUCKING CLEAR WHAT THIS LIFE WAS, (Y/N)!" Dean snapped back, anger dripping from his words like venom. He was hurt. How could you say that he was becoming a cold-hearted person? You, of all people. "IF I DON'T KILL IT, IT KILLS ME! THIS ISN'T AN APPLE PIE LIFE, AND YOU KNEW IT WHEN YOU DECIDED TO STAY HERE!"

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT VAMPIRES OR POLTERGEISTS OR WENDIGOS, DEAN! FUCK!" Your usual efficiency with words was starting to tangle with desperation. Dean didn't even see the problem, for God's shake. How could you keep this up? "I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PEOPLE! I SAW YOU KILL FIVE POSSESSED PEOPLE TODAY!"

"DEMONS!" He groaned and slapped the table. You jumped in surprise, making him regret getting out of control and coaxing a softer, calmer tone from his mouth. "I killed demons, not people."

"The demons were possessing them, and you killed them off without any regret. You didn't even take a minute to consider other options."

"What other options?" he questioned, obviously upset. What the hell were you doing? Becoming the devil's advocate all of sudden?

"Using the demon-killing knife to stab a non-vital part of their bodies? Maybe an exorcism?"

"None of those options would end the problem permanently. Do you have any idea how many sons of a bitch came back from hell to get Sam and me? It's them or us, (Y/N). And I will always choose us." Dean was aware that you weren't raised in this life like him and Sam, but this conversation was becoming frustrating and confusing. You were training to be like them. You went to hunts with them. You... You supported him. At least, you did last time he checked. "The human is long gone when they get possessed. Dying is the best thing that could happen to them after that."

You were supposed to be an easy case that turned out to be more complicated than previously expected, what meant both of them staying a little longer in the city, you catching feelings for Dean and vice-versa. After all you had seen, you knew that normal life was a long lost memory that you didn't wish to visit, leave alone live in. Hauntings, traveling across the country, having no banal responsibilities-- that seemed like the kind of dangerous fun you had been looking for your whole life. Then, you came with them. Killing things had never bothered you-- they weren't actually alive, for starts. Until you saw how cold Dean looked when he killed off possessed people-- the humans that were still in there somehow. And he kept doing it as if it were the only option. Of course, this job and violence walked side by side, but not unnecessary lethal choices. Dean certainly shared his portion of brutality, which wasn't tiny, but you would never picture your boyfriend as uncaring. Not until you watched five bodies piled up together, burning. What about the chance that those people should have gotten?

"Are you even listening to yourself, Dean? What if Sam had thought like that when you became a demon!?" Apprehensive, you tried to make him understand what was wrong.

Dean clenched his jaw before his answer came out, "Those are two different things, (Y/N). You know that."

"I..." You flinched, taking a deep breath and letting it out. You shut your eyes before opening them with a determinate glare, locking your gaze with his green one. "I can't. I said I would stand by you through anything, but I can't let this slide. Not like this."

"Because I killed a few demons?" The older Winchester grinned wryly. He was furious, scared by the possibility of you leaving him, and injured by your words. What else could a wounded animal do besides attacking? "I survived, (Y/N). I've killed many others, and I'm not fucking sorry for it. They had it coming. You knew that was my life, and you chose it. What are you going to do now? Play the coward? It's a dirty, fucked up job, but someone has to do it, and you knew that."

Offering a sad smile, you walked towards him and lifted your hand to claim his cheek only for him to pull away from you. Your heart ached, but you needed to do that. Stick to your morals and beliefs.

"I love you." And you did, you truly did. Unfortunately, blood was as normal as water in his mouth, and you couldn't help but remain nauseous after what you tasted. "But there is a better way. Maybe not perfect, but another decision. And if you can't see that, if you can't see why I find it wrong to just rush around with the knife in every situation--" Your voice almost broke. "Goodbye, Dean."

You turned around, passing away from the man you loved before another speech stopped you.

"I bet you regret leaving your home to run away with me now."

You didn't take two seconds to reply, and you desired that he could understand how hard it was for you too. "I would never regret you."

No ray of sunshine licked Dean's face to wake him up. Fortunately for the Winchesters' disorganized sleeping routine, the bunker prevented the sun from invading the window-- a perk of living almost under the land in a bunker.

Instead of a normal reason to emerge from his rest, Dean's eyes fluttered open from an annoying migraine. Perhaps he went a little too hard on the alcohol yesterday, but that was the last thing that mattered. Besides, even if it was an abnormal sensation, he wouldn't trade it for sake of 'drinking like a normal human being', as (Y/N) had teased him so many times before.

(Y/N).

It took two seconds after recovering consciousness to think about you.

“Where are you?” he said in a whisper, playing with himself to the silent walls. Dean laughed with his own brand of self-deprecation-- a learned cruelty to dilute the tug of his emotions before the eldest Winchester had to get up. He knew exactly where you resided and why you were there. He decided against feeding his masochism for once, not glancing at your side of the bed.

To face the light fixtures above him only made his current situation more depressing, just like the hints of paint that (Y/N) had once thrown there. Dean Winchester knew pain like no other; hell, purgatory, an emptied childhood, watching his mother seal a deal with a demon, living with the fact his father had gone to hell to save him, being right in front of Sammy when he died, all the bloody deaths he’d lived through again and again-- the list would go on. He could probably drown in an ocean of his deceased loved ones’ blood and swim there for hours until he reached its edge.

Most of the time, the life of a hunter was synonymous with tragedy.

Therefore, Dean was very experienced when it came to suffering. He even shared a last name with a rifle, for God’s sake. Destruction was stained in his bones. This time, it was a different kind of torment.

His heart had been broken before, sure. He wasn’t in his early twenties, neither was he a saint. Dean was aware that a break in relationships could be devastating.

But again, this time, it was different. (Y/N) had not only broke his heart. You ripped it out and threw it in the trash as you walked out the door without looking back. His trust was in your pockets, and the beliefs clinging to the divine sensation of your touch that left with you.

Dean Winchester was hopeless. Deciding not to mourn for a bit, he closed his eyes from the melancholy. It wasn't a hard job to fall asleep once more. People in his job were always heavy-eyed.

Forty minutes passed by the clock until the Winchester roused again. This moment felt missing without you snuggling up to him or kissing his neck between foolish giggles or even pushing him out of bed when you felt like playing the prankster.

There was no valid reason to remain where he was, glaring at a stupid ceiling that held nothing but an old light you installed together and memories. The yellow and blue paints still held firm where you’d spattered them, jumping in the bed together with your hands drenched in the colors from a gouache paint container just because you’d found the tins somewhere in the bunker. You and Dean became a tangled mess of greens, dirty with paint and kissing. How many sexual encounters happened here, he thought, glaring at this ceiling that looked like three-year-old Sammy’s art project.

The green-eyed man never thought he would feel nostalgic about a stupid ceiling. He had to get out of that room.

Finally raising from the mattress, Dean yawned as he padded towards the kitchen. He didn't mind checking what time it was, knowing he needed an alcoholic getaway. The Winchester sat down, sharing a bottle of Whiskey with his shadow. How distracting it was to make his throat burn when an unpleasant thought attempted to take control of his head.

If he had dared to look through the room, Dean would have noticed the clock's arrow pointing at 10:50 am.

By noon he was already drunk, which took a lot of effort since his tolerance to drinks was a bar high set. Dean groaned, displeased. The buzzy feeling of befuddlement hitting him certainly helped, but he could still affirm that he had never felt less cool. His body was starving for something that wasn't there anymore. Dean's feelings were all over the place, and he didn't have the energy to pick them up at this point.

"I can't believe you are drinking already." Sam sighed, making himself known by Dean in the kitchen. In response, all he got was his brother holding the glass up and drinking all of its bronze liquid. "It's barely noon, Dean. You-- Wait. Are you drunk?"

"Don't start, Sam." He groaned, holding his own cheeks with fingers as his hands slid down to his chin. The gesture was a habit of Dean's when he was fed up with something.

The younger one offered him an indignant glare, which was soon replaced by empathy and sorrow as he watched Dean. His brother was broken. (Y/N) running away from them had really taken him down. Part of Sam was hurt as well-- after all, you were his friend and confidant. But, in all ruthless honesty, he couldn't speak out and point fingers at you on that. Not about the whole situation, at all.

Yet, if Sam was feeling abandoned by his friend, he could only imagine what Dean would be experiencing. You had been a hint of happiness in the middle of misery and combat for Dean. It had been so long since Sammy saw his brother like that, so very long. Suddenly, it disappeared like smoke. And the worst part was that he understood your side. Deep down, the long-haired man knew Dean did, too.

Trying to knock sense back into his brother, or at least a bit of normality, Sam spoke, "You can go out and buy some whiskey. Your bottle was the last one."

"Yeah, right." His voice was impassive, almost serious for such casual conversation. He got up, going to the table to grab Baby's keys.

"Hey, Dean..." Dean turned around to face his brother. Sam’s expression was cautious, voice soft when he continued: "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. It could help."

"I'm pretty sure you heard the screaming yesterday, Sam," Dean replied dryly, an unsettlingly wry smile surfacing. His walls were up. It was an old defense mechanism. "There is nothing to talk about. She left. The sooner we can accept it, the sooner we can move on."

"Move on? You want to move on?" he questioned suspiciously, eyebrows arching to match his inquiry.

Dean didn't answer. He only picked up the keys.

"Dean--"

"Yeah, I think we are out of eggs, too," Dean interrupted. He didn't need to talk about it. Not now. "Whiskey and eggs, got it."

Any other remarks from Sam were ignored as he walked through the door, trotting in direction of his beloved Impala. An old song on one of his cassettes was the soundtrack to his five-minute ride to the nearest store.

Dean went searching for eggs and whiskey, adding a lemon pie that smelled better than himself-- not that it was difficult considering he hadn’t showered since yesterday. The store’s cashier swiped his credit card and offered a polite farewell that was replied with a nod. Everything seemed so normal in the most boring ways.

In the parking lot, a familiar face appeared for the first time in a year. It was Thomas-- a hunter that Dean, you, and Sam had come across during a job in New Mexico.

"Winchester!" The blue-eyed man smiled, making the scar near his lips more evident. Being thrown out of a window left marks sometimes. "It's been too long, dude."

"Cavill." His lips curved into a small smile as he greeted his friend. Laying his green eyes on him, Dean couldn't avoid noticing a familiar shirt. Fuck, he must be hallucinating or thinking too hard about foolish subjects. "Where have you been?"

"Burning bones, decapitating vamps. Same old, same old." Thomas waved his hand, banalizing the supernatural routine as if it were nothing but another Sunday. For them, this was true. "I saw (Y/N) yesterday. She seemed fine. Separate hunts to take different cases?"

His blood burned through an emotional fever in realization. It felt like the boil was intense enough to melt his bones if he remained in front of the other men for too long. Thomas had never been subtle about finding you attractive, and neither was his constant flirting when your cases collided. It didn't help that you and Dean weren't together back then, even though the tension was obvious for anyone. The Winchester gripped his grocery plastic bag harder, offering him a sarcastic smirk.

"Something like that." He reached the car door and pulled out his keys. The familiar red flannel, your meeting with him-- it was so obvious it was basically written all over his face, and sadly, Dean could read it well. Fuck, he wanted to drop his purchases and punch that smile off Thomas’ face. That man probably had more of what was once his. “Gotta go. See you around.”

Sliding in the car to leave this conversation before his treacherous mind could reach more detestable conclusions, Cavill answered, "If you need help, give me a call.''

Dean mumbled something but didn't care enough to give him anything beyond a nod while the Impala finally drove away from Thomas.

At that moment, he wished a bit harder that Ellen was still alive or that another bar like hers existed. The hunters’ bar was full of people who understood that death was a part of the job. Somewhere he could swallow barrels of alcohol, play darts and tell bloody stories about his world-- about the quintessential things he did to get despair out of his system to the point that he felt comfortable on his own skin again.

So, that was it? You didn't just leave him and Sam, but you also accused him with all certainty you had of being a cold killer, and then you slept with the first man who showed up? Who was also a fucking hunter? Why the fuck didn't you tell him how you felt sooner? He wasn't an angel-- he would be even more of an arrogant asshole than he already was if that was the case, but you knew it all along. He didn't deserve anything good in his life. He should've seen it coming.

Dean pursed his lips, deciding for another ride to a normal bar. Home and all the beautiful, tragic ghosts inside could haunt him later.

It didn't take him long to park near an establishment. For once, he noticed the strong grip he held on the steering wheel, knuckles strained whiter than usual. He let out a tired sigh, glaring at the entrance of the place before grabbing his phone.

No calls from you. No text messages from you. Just the feeling of being a thirteen-year-old boy again, just like when he was waiting for Mary to send him a sign that she was all right.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean put it back in his pocket and made his way to the bar. No 'welcome' board light was shining yet, and he doubts anyone but he and the owner would be there. Once he got in, two guys were sitting in a table far away, and a girl was entering the bathroom. The bartender stood behind the bar, watching some game on the small television the place provided.

"Whiskey. No ice." His words came out harsher than he expected. The guy didn't seem to notice or care, simply nodding his head and turning around go get his client's order. One more time, Dean took his phone and stared at it. There was nothing but a text from Sammy that he quickly replied to, frowning in disappointment. It was rare for you to be the first one to break after a fight, but that was more than a stupid argument. You had left. You had fucking left. And he was the only one to blame.

Such a miserable routine kept its course. Dean would drink, check his phone, and hurt himself with his own thoughts. The night came with lurking shadows, and he couldn't care less. It seemed like the ghosts had replaced the bunker for his company. He didn't want to believe you would come back because hoping and being destroyed again was too much to bear with right now. Dean couldn't even breathe properly at the thought that he would never, ever see touch you, tease you, or be with you again. You had him wrapped around your finger since the very first day until you cut your hand off and left him. You left. How could you have left? But then, how could you had stayed if you had it all in your mind before?

Someone sat beside him. Still, it didn't catch the Winchester's attention until he heard her voice. For a flash of a second, he thought it was you. Dean looked up instantly, only to find himself incredulous.

The woman in front of him looked so much like you. She could easily be mistaken for your sister. Hair, eyes, voice. Everything but the lips were so similar. The unknown girl kept her gaze on Dean despite his strange reaction to her. Repeating her former words, she asked, "What are you drinking? Seems good."

Yeah, she wasn't (Y/N). You could tell what he was drinking from miles away, just because you knew exactly what he enjoyed. In addition, you’d seen his preferences so much that you’d memorized it all without even trying.

She looked like you, though. A lot. The earlier jealousy mixed with a dangerous quantity of alcohol and anguish made his decision. Move on, just like he told Sam. You didn't call him. You weren't coming back. That was your choice. He had to shut up the little hopes in his mind.

Putting up his best sultry smirk, Dean pushed the glass on the table towards her as he answered: "You tell me."

Two hours later, he was tilting his head to the side, watching the woman in his sheets peacefully taking a nap after a long run. Her hand covered most of her face, pillow carpeted with her messy hair.

"Wake up, (Y--)" Dean restrained himself from finishing that sentence. He almost said your name. It was hard enough to keep the woman's name, which he had forgotten by now, on his tongue during sex-- he wasn't going to give in at the end of it. Clearing his throat, the hunter started waking her up again. He needed to go.

In any other point of his life, he would've considered that night a success. A hot girl was sleeping beside him after he had a great amount of old whiskey. Sammy sent a text about a new case, and he had pie waiting for him in the car. At any other moment, that would be enough to put him in a good mood all day. In any other age, that would be considered a good day. No one died, he had sex and food and was about to hunt a thing and blow whatever it was up.

But you hadn't called.

It was probably a good thing in a messed up way. It was tranquil. There was no arguing, no fighting, no hurting from either side. That kind of hurt was quite similar to being comfortable, in a tremendously distorted way that he didn't wish to feel, like not putting medicine on the wound and just allowing it to heal by itself-- yet, occasionally scratching it. The idea of a comfortable silence was so overrated. Dean would rather be screamed at by (Y/N) by now than whatever this option was.

The woman woke up and left a note with her phone as she abandoned the room. Crumbling the paper, he threw it away and touched his face. A deep breath was taken.

He had work to do.

Maybe one day you'll call me

and tell me that you’re sorry too

But you never do

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