It was a werewolf hunt, and they had no idea how long they would be gone. That was the last text you had gotten, and that was three days ago. During that time, you had gone completely stir crazy, the bunker feeling more like a prison than a home.

You had finally taken your Mustang to town, stopping first at a little mom and pop cafe, needing human interaction and real food. The last of the edible food in the bunker had been eaten yesterday, and you were ready to eat something you didn't have to smell first.

It was nice, and relaxing, your waitress an older woman who stayed and chatted quietly with you for a moment before placing your order. When she brought your food back, she stayed, asking you questions, giving you advice. It was exactly the sort of conversation you needed, nothing to pushy or probing, it was like talking to a loving grandmother.

Afterwards, you stopped at the grocery store, throwing anything you could think of into the cart, snack items, ingredients for dinner, stuff to make a pie. You even grabbed some new books and movies, hoping they would solve your boredom problem.

You slowly made your way back to the bunker, driving around town, taking any little street that took your fancy, delaying your return as long as you could. But soon the roads ended, and you ended up taking the small country road out to the bunker, going as slow as possible. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze to the air, and you weren't quite ready to be stuffed back in doors yet.

Before you were ready, you were pulling your Mustang into the garage, a little disappointed when a shining black car wasn't there to greet you. Grumbling under your breath, you grabbed as many bags as you could carry in one go, staggering down the hallway to the kitchen. It took two more trips before all the bags were on the table. Turning on the radio, you sang along as you put stuff away, leaving items out to make a sandwich, and the ingredients to make a pie. You loved pie almost as much as Dean. 

Munching on your sandwich, you contemplated your choices. You had bought enough items that you could make two pies, so your decision was between making an apple pie, or a cream pie. You decided on the apple, because you needed some sense of normalcy in your life. Even if it was just a pie. Cranking the radio as loud as it would go, you began the messy task of making the crust. You had always enjoyed baking, but you always seemed to make a mess doing it.

Half an hour later, your pie was in the oven, and you were just getting a  beer out of the fridge when you thought you heard a noise. Turning the radio off, you listened again, when you heard what sounded like feet stomping in the hallway. Setting your beer down, you grabbed a knife and slowly peeked around the door frame. The bunker was dark, you had been so busy baking you hadn't had a chance yet to turn any more lights on. 

Grateful you were in bare feet, you were able to walk down the hallway, not making a sound, as you looked around each bend, wondering what you had heard. Your heart pounding, you glance in the library, surprised to see one of the table lamps on.

It was then you could vaguely hear voices. You stayed pressed against the wall, listening. "She wasn't in her room. Why don't you go check the kitchen?" You heard Sam's voice say, and you relaxed, realizing the brothers were back from their hunt. Storing the knife in the back of your pants, you walked into the room, seeing both men at the far end.

"Hey boys." You said, your voice barely containing your excitement at seeing them again. As they turned around, you surprised everyone by rushing forward, and jumping into the first pair of arms you came too. They wrapped around you, holding you tight to a warm and sturdy chest. A chest you had laid your head on many times.

"Hey Y/N." Dean said. At first he stood their stiffly, and you knew he had been expecting you to run the other way. But then he slowly relaxed, his arms tightening around you, as he tilted his head so his chin was resting on your hair.

You felt someone pat your back, before footsteps led away. "Nice seeing you too Y/N. I'm going to go get cleaned up." Sam said, as he left the two of you alone.

As soon as Sam was gone, Dean gently pulled you away, but kept his arms on your shoulders, the both of you enjoying each others touch. "What was that for?" He asked, a slight smile on his face. You stood there, speechless, as you stared at the smile. It was the first time in months you had seen a real smile on his face, and the sight of it brought a matching one to yours.

"I missed you." You told him truthfully. His green eyes captured yours, and the two of you stayed that way, lost in the way things used to be, before he gently lifted one hand from your shoulder, and rubbed your cheek. You stayed still, forcing yourself not to flinch, even though it was hard. His finger came away white, and he glanced at it, raising an eyebrow in question.

You shrugged. "I was baking. It was so boring here, by myself. I was going stir crazy." You told him, and his eyes lit up.

"Baking? What were you baking?" He asked.

You grabbed his hand, forcing him to follow you. He jumped at the contact, and you knew the both of you might be pushing things too fast, but after being apart so long, it felt nice. He joined you in the kitchen, where you grabbed him a beer, before pulling the pie from the oven. "I made a pie." You told him smugly, and you watched as he licked his lips.

You set it out to cool, before sitting down next to him, taking a sip of your beer. The two of you stayed silent, watching the steam escape the pie, neither one wanting to ruin the moment. Finally you spoke. "I know it's been hard. But hopefully the time apart helped us through some things. But I don't want to be apart anymore. Please. It was hard, not knowing how you were, what you were doing. Can we please just deal with this together?" You begged, knowing your problems were by no means fixed, but you were a step closer in the right direction.

"I missed you too." He told you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, and you were so proud of yourself that you didn't jump or flinch at the touch. "Now, how about that pie?"