A/N: Language, domestic fighting

***

John was exhausted. This hunt had been going on for three days. Research had led him to a small house near the edge of the woods, but his trip there tonight had proven fruitless. And now, there was this to deal with.

He studied the door of the room before him, a slight tendril of fear creeping up his spine. He thought he'd be past this after all these years. He took a deep fortifying breath and let himself into the room.

The woman cuffed to the bed whipped her head to the side to glare at him and he winced. Damn. He was lucky she wasn't a witch or he'd be on a one-way trip back to hell. He dropped his bag to the floor and shut and locked the door to the room. Turning back to look at the bed, he tilted his head and held out his hands in a placating gesture.

"All right, Y/N," he said doing his best to convey a non-threatening demeanor. "I know you're not happy right now. I'm going to let you go. Are you going to stay calm?"

She nodded once, a harsh movement that made him wonder at the truth behind it. He couldn't leave her chained up forever, though. He hooked a finger under the rag he'd used as a gag and pulled it away from her mouth. She still glared at him, but said nothing. He ran his thumb over the slight red marks on the skin on either side of her mouth. He didn't think they'd bruise. They shouldn't, anyway. He'd been very careful when he secured her.

First, he unlocked the cuff on her right wrist. After waiting to make sure she wasn't going to do anything stupid, he then unlocked the other and braced himself.

***

You huffed out a sound of disgust as you swung your legs off the bed to sit on the edge of it, your back to John. You massaged your wrists though they didn't really hurt. The skin was simply irritated from where the metal had rubbed against it. Tears burned in your eyes but you held them back. You were so humiliated and angry and...Damn it! Sometimes he was such a dick. You clenched your teeth together and closed your eyes, trying to control your temper.

"Y/N?" the man questioned tentatively when several minutes passed without you saying anything.

Instead of responding, you stood and strode into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind you. You gripped the edge of the counter and bowed your head forward. Your muscles literally trembled with your anger. Tears dropped into the sink beneath you. If you screamed at him, he wouldn't listen. You knew that and he needed to hear you this time. This shit was not okay.

A long sigh came from the other side of the door. The fact that he had the nerve to sound bothered, annoyed, had you straightening your spine and swiping away the tears. "Come on, Sweetheart. Talk to me."

Sweetheart? You searched the motel bathroom hoping for some sort of weapon. A smirk lit your features when you found the old, heavy hairdryer. You hefted it in your hand then turned and unlocked the door. As you swung it open, John took a step back.

You brandished the hairdryer in front of you like a weapon. And it very well could be in your hands. You had a knack for using the simplest of things in the deadliest manners. His gaze immediately locked on the appliance in your hands. He tilted his head and took another step away, his hands in front of him like a shield.

"Now, Y/N/N. Be reasonable."

Surely you hadn't heard him correctly. "Reasonable? You cuffed me to the fucking bed and you want me to be reasonable?" Your voice was low, angry. You didn't miss the slight widening of his eyes. You only got this way when you were furious and he knew it.

"I did it to protect you. The hunt was too dangerous and you wouldn't listen to me." John kept his voice calm, even.

Your brows lifted in disbelief. "Listen? You mean I wouldn't obey you. Fucker." You launched the hairdryer in his direction.

He dodged to the side and it whizzed past his head, missing him by inches. If he hadn't moved, it would have hit him square between the eyes. "Knock that shit off."

You fisted your hands on your hips. "You don't get to handcuff me to a bed because I won't do what you want. That is not okay, John Winchester."

"I do when you're carrying my baby," he snapped back.

Your toiletries were lined up on the dresser beside you and you began hurling them at him.

"Quit throwing shit at me, damn it," he growled.

Truth was he was catching most of what you threw before it could do any real harm but it made you feel better. When you turned to find something heavier to toss, he took advantage of your momentary distraction to come up behind you and grasp your wrists in his hands. He crossed your arms over your chest and pulled you back against him.

Your breaths came in angry pants that didn't improve any with the proximity of your husband. As furious as you were with him, this baby had your hormones working overtime.

"Calm down," he growled in your ear.

His breath whispered across heated skin and sent a tremor down your spine. It did not go unnoticed. John chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his chest. "Problem, sweetheart?" Asshole.

You twisted out of his hold with no warning and elbowed him in the ribs. Not hard enough to do any real damage but enough to have him paying attention. He grunted and stepped away from you, bent slightly to ease the pressure on his ribs.

"Yes, there's a fucking problem, John Winchester."

"I can see that," he said between breaths. "Christ, Y/N. That hurt."

Guilt swamped you, but you shoved it aside. "It was supposed to."

He reached for you and you knew he thought that if he just held you that you'd get over it like you usually did. But not this time. You jerked your hand back before his fingers could wrap around your wrist and the hurt look he gave you made your heart twinge. You cleared your throat and pointed at the end of the bed. "You need to sit down and listen to me."

He nodded once and sat where you told him, one hand still covering where your elbow had caught him. You paced the floor making sure you had the words straight in your head before you started talking. Sometimes you got so flustered when you were angry that whatever you wanted to say would get tangled up in your head and come out all wrong. You didn't want that this time.

You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and worried. Finally, you took a deep breath and turned to face him. "You have to promise me right now that shit never happens again."

His brow furrowed. "Sweetheart, I was trying—"

"Promise me, John, or I leave right now." Your voice cracked on the last word and you cleared your throat.

Pure panic and sorrow flooded your husband's eyes. "You can't mean that, Y/N. You promised you'd never leave me. You swore." Tears pooled in those eyes you loved so much and you turned away to keep from seeing them. Your heart couldn't take it. Not right now.

After another deep breath you turned back to him. "I did. And we also promised to always have each other's backs. How am I supposed to do that when you've got me cuffed to a damned bed?"

"And how am I supposed to focus on what I've got to do when I'm too worried something will happen to you or the baby?" He was yelling now and you gave him that. John didn't do emotions much and yelling was his default when things got uncomfortable. You'd long learned to tell when he was actually angry with you and this wasn't it. "Damn it, Y/N." His voice was soft now and he dropped his head forward. "I can't lose you. I wouldn't survive it."

You sighed and knelt in front of John, hands on his knees for support. You looked up to meet his downturned gaze. "Listen to me, Winchester. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in this world. Everyday I wake up and smile when I see you beside me. It would kill me to lose you, too."

He reached out a hand and pushed your hair behind your ear. You grasped his hand in yours. "So, imagine how I felt not knowing where you were going, what you were facing, how many, how long you were supposed to be gone. If something happened to you, what was I supposed to have done?"

His cheeks flushed and he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "I called Dean and told him where you were and to come get you if he didn't hear from me by midnight."

You huffed out a humorless laugh. "Great. So at least I wouldn't have been the skeletal lady found chained to the bed in a couple of years."

He chuckled. "Staff would have found you in a day or so."

"Have you taken a good look at this room, John? I'm not sure they clean more than once a year."

You let him laugh a moment before shaking his legs to get his attention. "You can't leave me like that again. I was sick with worry. I can stay back, cover you from a distance but this isn't going to happen again. You don't want me hunting while I'm pregnant? Fine. Then we go to the bunker and you work with the boys. No more solo hunts, Winchester. You're an old man and I don't need you keeling over from a heart attack before I have this baby."

He arched a brow and pulled you up before falling back on the bed, taking you with him. "Old man, huh? I'll show you old, sweetheart."

He kissed you long and deep. Your hands rested on each other's cheeks as you took your time, just loving one another. After he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot and an asshole. I couldn't think beyond keeping you safe. I don't get a lot of good in my life so when I do, I grip on tight. But you know that."

The corner of your mouth kicked up in a smile. "It's one of the things I love most about you, Winchester."

"Is that right, Winchester?" he replied, causing your smile to widen. While you'd been together for years, you hadn't actually gotten married until a few months ago and you still got a little giddy when you were reminded you were an official Winchester.

"That's right. Now what was that about you proving you weren't an old man?"