Dean X-Reader - Worried Dad Mode

            Come to think of it, maybe you shouldn't have given the police your Dad's number. It doesn't matter how you go about it, he'd find out sooner or later, but giving Sam's number was probably the better option. Dean was skeptical about letting you go out with a boy by yourself, and now, well, your chances of ever seeing said boy again are screwed to hell. At least if Sam had found out first, he could have calmed his brother before he freaked out.

            But you can't go back. You tried to reassure yourself with the fact that neither you or the boy were seriously injured, but although you know you'll be okay, you can't say the same for your date. Once your dad gets his hands on him . . .

            “(y/n)?”A panicked voice carries over the buzz of medics and police officers.

            “Dad?” You slide down from your seat on the back of an ambulance and head towards the sound of his voice, abandoning the shock blanket one of the medics gave you.

            “(y/n)!” Dean pushes his way past a few officers, heading straight for you. “(y/n), what the hell?!”

            Before you can get another word out, he's got you enveloped in a scared hug. It feels like he's almost crushing you.

            “Dad, I'm fine.” You wriggle out of his grip.

            He proceeds to look you over, becoming increasingly concerned when he finds a red gash on your forehead. It's not bleeding or worthy of stitches, otherwise the medics on the scene would have done something when they found it, but it doesn't help his worry, nor do the other tiny cuts and bruises on your face.

            “They said the car flipped. You didn't break anything, did you?”

            “No.”

            “What about fractures? Concussion?”

            “I'm okay, really. And no, the car did not flip. It hit a truck and the windshield shattered. Calm down, Dad.”

            “Don't tell me to calm down when my little girl is covered in cuts because some idiot boy doesn't know how to drive.”

            “He does know how to drive. It was just an-”

            “Where is he?” Now he's starting to get less worried and more angry. “Where's that damn kid?”

            “Dad, don't-”

            But he's gone before you can stop him. In seconds he finds the boy, and even from this distance you can hear the harsh, scolding tone in his voice. He's really going to tear that poor kid a new one. All you can think is 'thank God that's not me'. As you watch the scene from the corner of your eye, one of the medics comes along to give you one last look over. Obviously a bit concerned about the 'discussion' happening between your dad and your date, one of the officers attempts to relax the situation. Dean just stalks away, probably wishing he could have taught that boy a real lesson.

            “We're leaving.” He explains as he takes hold of your wrist.

            You follow – not that you really have a choice – all the way to the Impala, climbing into the passenger seat.

            “Where's Sam?” You ask.

            “He wasn't moving fast enough, so I left him.” Your dad climbs into the driver's seat, pausing when his eyes lock with yours to simply study you, the anger in his features draining away and going back to worry. “You're sure you're alright?”

            “Yes.” You give him a small smile.

            Rather than return it, your dad reaches out to take hold of you and pull you into an embrace with both arms. This time his hold isn't tight and strong. It's just protective, worried, relieved. It says everything he hasn't about how God damn panicked he was and the relief he felt when he found you in one piece. You melt into him, your own nerves calming completely.

            “You're never gonna let that boy near me again, are you?”

            “Hell no.”