2.

“Cassie, what the hell is this?”

Cassie rose her head up from the profound novel she was reading about Egyptian folklore—doing research, as her boyfriend so colorfully suggested she do.  

“Dinner, honey.”

Dean looked at her, mouth ajar as he held up the almost completely burnt, cold slice of pizza. “Seriously?”

They'd been at it for the past three days. Ever since the witch case; when Dean asked Cassie to stay back, and she came anyway, proceeding to save both Dean and Sam but nearly getting killed in the process. Dean’s been pissy and Cassie’s been fed up. At first, they argued; it wasn't words full of jabs; just really harshly said truths. Sam, who had kept his mouth zipped the entire time (because when he tried to interject they both turned on him) watched on, as the arguments turned into childish cold shouldering and fight picking. Dean would purposely ignore Cassie. She hated when he did that. So she started doing the very opposite of everything he asked her; down to the giving him a glass of milk instead of a beer from the fridge. So he started sleeping at the table, and Cassie kept the bedroom door closed, and Sam busied himself with looking for another case while the two of them duked it out.

It was day three, and Sam was so tired he took to outright laughing at them.

Because this was funny.

“What is your problem?” Dean asked, glowering at his girlfriend from behind the fridge door.

“Right now? You. Asshat.”

“Hey, that’s my word!”

“Oh, I’m aware”, she finally placed her book to the side. Sam coughs away the giggles, because Dean’s face is priceless, and Cassie was starting to look like she’d come out on top of this one.

“This”, Dean holds up the pizza like a dirty diaper, “is going too far!” he tosses it into the trash, and slams the fridge door, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam suppressed another laugh, because Dean was wearing his serious face.

“You know what’s going too far?” Cassie stood now, pointing at him, “putting me on the burner and getting mad at me for doing my job!”

“I asked you to stand down, and for good friggin’ reason”, he points at her wrapped thigh “he could have killed you!”

“And I’m supposed to sit back while he tries to kill the both of you? That’s selfish and foolish and I refuse to let your stupidity get you killed and I have to be the one left living with it.”

This got real, real quick. Sam knew the look on Cassie’s face. It was a common Winchester look. The one they gave when one of them was all guts and glory and thoughtlessness. Both of the brothers had gotten it; mostly from each other. But now there was Cassie, and she wasn’t like them. Sam was glad about that; they needed someone who was willing to hit them upside the head and remind them to use it. And she loved them; and she as in love with Dean and was willing to help them carry their ever present load. And Dean needed to learn to appreciate that. Fast.

Sam hadn't realized that he’d been thinking out loud, until Cassie and Dean’s facial expressions caught his attention. Dean’s chin was turned down, his eyes searching and not knowing what to do with his hands; he was giving in. Cassie’s eyes were a little watery, and she was worrying her lip, looking away from the both of them. Sam stood up from the desk he had been working at, “I’ll—go grab some dinner.”

They both watched as the door closed behind him, and remained looking at the door, silent.

Dean and Cassie were so much alike it scared them. Both head strong, stubborn, and unwilling to yield, because neither could admit to being wrong and always saw their side as truth, whether that truth be full out or only half way there. Both had pride issues. The list goes on.

But the biggest thing they had in common, was that neither knew how to say sorry.

They turned to each other simultaneously, confident at first, but upon meeting the other’s gaze, faltered back a bit.

“Look, I—“

“Dean, I’m—“

They looked up at one another. He laughed. She smiled. “I’m sorry—okay?”

“No—“

“Let me finish, Cassie”, Dean sighed, approaching her, “I was wrong. I undermined you. I treated you like a damsel in distress, and that wasn’t right. At all. I mean, you saved me…I’m not real good at this. I was being selfish, and foolish and stupid, and Sam was right, I just…“

“Dean”, she locked her eyes on his, approaching him, “I understand—I know you. I get it, and I’m sorry if I scared you. Or made you feel like you were gonna lose me.”

They were face to face now. She had a hand on his cheek. He kissed her palm and held it there. She got closer, “I chose this. And I chose you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean looked at her, he really looked at her. And Cassie Robinson had that look in her eye; the one she had when they first met that let him know that she didn’t have to swear to or on anything for you to know that she was making a promise. And she always kept her promises.

And Dean would always be scared. Because the women around them never lasted. But she was here; she was standing the tests of time and everything that came at them. So he would believe and trust her—he’d at least try.

He took her into his arms and kissed her. Kissed her like she was air. And she kissed him. Kissed him like he was the answer to everything.

And after they were spent, they pressed their foreheads together, breathing and smiling and embracing, “can I sleep in my room now?”

Cassie grinned, kissing him again, “who said anything about sleeping?”

Dean grinned, following her lead back to their room, when he had a thought, “wait…can we talk about the pizza first?”

Cassie arched a brow, “really? You wanna talk about the pizza or moving this furniture around?”

Dean looked thoughtful for about point five seconds, garnering exasperation out of Cassie before he shook himself, “Right. Furniture.”