3am
She sat in the armchair, feet curled up underneath her as her hand lazily scribbled on the thick, cream-coloured page. She was focused entirely on the notebook in her lap - not with stress or tension, simply dedication.
Her thoughts wandered for a moment to the noises outside. The rain pattering softly on the roof; a lone motorbike speeding up along the highway somewhere in the distance; and long pauses of silence.
It wasn't completely silent yet. It was still too early for that moment of complete stillness: That time, early in the morning where the world was still dark, when everyone had gone to bed, streets became deserted and the earth was yet to begin waking up for a new day.
That was her favourite time. It was a time she would deliberately sit up and wait for - particularly after a hard hunt. She felt like it was the time of morning when she understood what they were always fighting for; that it was a time of true peace.
Unfortunately, this was not one of those times. It was 3am and she was sitting in a lounge room of the bunker, drawing. She knew she wasn't supposed to be up but had no legitimate reason as to why she wasn't able to sleep.
The recent hunt hadn't been difficult, emotionally or physically. She and Dean had gone on the hunt together, leaving Sam at home to work on some research he wanted to get done. The two of them planned their attack, killed the evil (with only a few minor scrapes and bruises on their side), playfully bantered with each other while listening to AC/DC on the drive back and got home at a reasonable hour. After an indulgent, warm and soapy shower, a solid meal and some light television she had headed to bed at the same time as the boys. She had slipped into her pj shorts and top, climbed into bed and closed her eyes, tired enough for sleep.
Unfortunately, sleep wasn't ready for her.
She had tossed and turned for hours; things that usually settled her had not worked - she tried reading; breathing deeply; and relaxing all her muscles so they sank into the mattress, but they all did nothing. Figuring she needed to try a little harder she went through all her thoughts, working out what was bothering her. After a few long minutes of consideration she came up with...nothing. She ran through her day again, and again, and again, yet found nothing troubling or unsettling - nothing that could keep her awake at this hour.
Slowly she became irritated at herself and this frustration meant things which were usually calming for her were now ridiculously annoying: the soft sheets felt too hot so she kicked them off; the pillow seemed too hard so she turned it over, punched it, threw it...all in vain; the ticking of her bedside clock had to be stopped by removing the batteries; then finally the rain started.
Rain was the last straw. She usually loved it, it often lulled her to sleep. Not tonight (or by this stage this morning) it was simply too much. She had thrown any hope she had of getting to sleep aside; climbed out of bed; found her sketchbook and colours; and crept her way silently down the hall, past the rooms of the two sleeping Winchester men (who she knew would be peacefully slumbering behind those closed doors) in order to find something else to do before morning.
She had quietly made herself a cup of tea and chosen not to turn on the big light - it would draw too much attention. Instead she turned on a lamp near the armchair and had begun scribbling down anything that came to mind.
And this is where she found herself now. Secretly drawing at 3am.
Her love of drawing wasn't a secret - the boys knew she journaled and would draw to get her mind off things. Just like she knew Dean went to bars, trawled for women or worked on the Impala; while Sam read or ran when needing to remove themselves from the job or their lives.
She just preferred for them not to know she was awake at this time.
She knew if she knocked on either of the boy's doors they would try to help her. But what was she going to say? 'Hey...I can't sleep so I thought you shouldn't either...' It seemed so selfish - they seriously deserved (and needed) some sleep. It wasn't very often they were able to just fall into bed without worrying about the next case or a new problem in their immediate lives.
She paused in her thoughts for a moment, smiling at the thought of each of them crashed on their beds - Sam laying on his back, arms holding down the blankets tightly around himself and Dean, face down with his toned arms tucked under his pillow, half covered by the blankets, his bare torso...She shook that train of thought out of her head and picked up from where she was before.
The reason why you were drawing secretly she reminded herself.
Ah yes. Honestly, she admitted, she didn't like being out of control around the Winchesters. She needed to feel like she was just as capable as they were - no matter how crazy their lives became they could always pull themselves together enough to save the world, and she needed to know she had the ability to do the same. She was frightened however, that not being able to sleep meant she wasn't as in control as she would like to be.
As a flow on from this, she was then worried about what Dean would think about her if she revealed a weakness like this. How he may react. I don't want him to push me away, or think less of me...I want to be someone special to him. Someone he loves.
Love. She had never used that word before when she had thought about how she felt about Dean. But it was the best word to use. Days like today - when they spent the time joking and laughing, working and fighting together - were her favourites. She loved him. I love Dean. The full force of this realisation hit her as she sat in the silence of the room.
She stopped the thought right there though, there was no way she could risk letting anyone know. Risk having him react negatively. Risk loosing herself and her control. So she pushed it away and focused instead on the page in front of her.
Suddenly her attention was snapped away from the page as the light to the room was flicked on. Her head turned to the intruder, and she automatically rose from her chair, the notebook dropping to the floor as she stood, preparing to launch into fight mode if necessary.
Instead of an attacker or monster she was met by a set of boxers and t-shirt covering a chest that she knew to be strong, and toned and a body she associated with warmth and a musky, leather scent. Well she imagined it to be that way - she hadn't really been physically close enough to know exactly. As she considered this her wide eyes quickly travelled upwards to be met by a set of slightly confused green ones.
'Y/n?' The confusion quickly turned to a slight smile as he made his way into the room. 'What are you doin' sitting out here, hiding in the dark at 3am?'
"Uh..I'm just drawin'" she casually threw out as she bent down to pick up her notebook.
She stood and watched as he made his way over to the kitchen, opened the fridge, looked over what was available and settled on taking out the milk. She shuffled slightly on the spot as he took down two mugs and placed them on the bench with some hot chocolate and marshmallows and then flicked on the jug to boil.
"O.k..." he responded "...at 3 in the morning?" He asked turning to face her as he leant on the bench, arms folded, and eyebrows raised.
Shrugging slightly she tried to think of a response but came up with nothing that wouldn't lead to more questions or revealing too much to him. She settled instead on meeting his gaze, giving him a smile and shake of the head as she walked over to take a seat at the dining table.
He chuckled slightly in response, looking her over intently for a few minutes before shaking his head and turning to make the hot chocolate. She watched him as he worked. She often did this and his mannerisms had become so familiar to her now. She felt a sense of comfort whenever he was near. She always felt safe that she wouldn't be caught watching him out of the corner of her eye, especially when he had his back turned and was focused so intently on completing the task at hand.
He applied the same attentions to everything he did: out on a hunt, working on his 'baby' or something as simple as this - making hot cocoa. He was so confident, precise and relaxed in every move he made: placing the cocoa in the mugs, warming the milk, pouring in the boiling water, filling up the mugs, and topping them off with marshmallows. She watched his arms, hands and fingers move so competently, so smoothly, so gently.
He turned to face her, holding the two delicious smelling hot chocolates and jolted her from the daze she was in. He approached her with ease, placed a mug at the spot in front of her and sat down in the chair to her right. He leant back and watched as she took a sip of the cocoa.
Bringing the cup to her lips she blew on the drink to cool it slightly and then took the tiniest sip. It was as warm and comforting as she was hoping for and a small smile lit up her face as she placed the mug back down on the table in front of her. Satisfied that she was impressed, Dean bought his own mug up and took a large gulp from the cocoa and placed it back down on the table.
'O.k. then' he began in a gentle, slightly sleepy, tone, 'how about an easier question. What are you drawing at 3am in the morning?'
The question took her by surprise.
Dean never pressed a topic of conversation - especially one that potentially had links to personal emotions and thoughts. He would always move onto a casual topic, like music or food, whenever she responded to a question in a vague or simplistic manner. Granted, she felt guilty about this at times as she knew a whole lot more about the brothers than they knew about her. But she often consoled herself with the knowledge that they were The Winchesters. A girl didn't need to have a conversation with the boys to know a lot about them.
She had also assumed, through the lengthy silence while he made the cocoa, that they had moved on from the reason as to why she wasn't in bed and she was a little unsure of why he had taken so long to speak after her initial attempt at an answer.
He could sense how unsettled she was with the line of questioning and his continuation of a topic he would usually drop. He couldn't just move on from it though - it was past 3 in the morning, and finding a still very alert and active y/n in the living room was a little concerning. It wasn't usual for her and definitely not a usual part of his regular, early-morning-snack-time routine.
Almost instinctively he reached out an arm and rested it on the back of her chair; an offer of his comfort and protection without making her feel crowded or pressured. With his other hand he picked up his mug, taking another mouthful of cocoa as he waited for her to choose a response.
Feeling his arm move behind her she bought herself out of the circling thoughts and quickly worked to find an answer. Flipping open the notebook she still had in her lap y/n found the first page she had worked on since her unsuccessful attempt at sleeping. Slowly she slid it across the table so that it was directly in front of Dean.
'Just idle sketches' she said quietly as she drew her hand away from the book and reached for her mug of cocoa.
Taking a drink she avoided eye contact with the man sitting next to her and bought the mug down into her lap with both hands wrapped around it. She was nervous, she needed comfort and the warmth from the mug provided it.
It wasn't like this was the first time he had seen her drawings. He would often catch her eye in the rearview mirror as they parked at a petrol station or diner and would ask to see what she had been up to. She was usually happy to oblige - it gave them a nice conversation point and gave her a chance to show something safe of herself - something completely emotion-free. Well at least that was how she had always felt until this moment.
She knew she had simply sketched random images that came to mind. But right now, all she could think about was the things she had been thinking about while she drew them. This made her genuinely nervous. What if it was noticeable in her artwork? What if he picked up on some form of clue - that was, after all, a large part of his job; solving cases and working out problems. She hadn't had time to flick over her work and check to see what symbols or colours or clues could be seen or noticed.
On top of this worry she knew that she was anxious about what came after he had looked at them. When he found nothing there of any value and began to question her. She had started drawing because she had no idea why she couldn't get to sleep. Now that she had come to a realisation about her inner turmoil she truly wanted, no needed, to keep her reasons for being up early in the morning a secret from the man sitting here next to her.
See. She silently confirmed for herself this is exactly what I wanted to avoid - loss of control.
Placing his mug down Dean picked up the notebook, glanced down at the woman next to him and noted her refusal to look up from her mug of cocoa. He then turned his attention to her early morning drawings. He looked at them properly, slowly turning each page so that he could take in the detail of each one. She was an artist, it was easy to see in the way she had so obviously scribbled some of these images down quickly, but had still been able to ensure her work appeared to be more than just 2D objects on a page.
His eyes ran over a hawk, a nude reclining female form, a man's toned and muscular back, the impala, a small table with a mirror and vase of flowers. After focusing on the fifth drawing he came to a very clear understanding - these pictures weren't going to tell him anything about what was going on with the pretty little thing sitting, apprehensively, next to him.
'These are "idle sketches", huh?' He said with a smile as he flipped through the last few images and closed the notebook.
He got a short quiet laugh from her in response. He sighed as he gently placed the notebook next to his mug of cocoa on the table. Taking another drink he figured she was not going to give in to him without a fight. I like that about her he thought to himself as he took a deep breath and adjusted so he was turned to face her with his whole body. He took a moment to watch her -taking in her posture, her eyes, her subtle actions - the ones he had learnt to read over the time she had spent hunting and living with him and Sammy.
She had almost finished the cocoa but it was still being clutched tightly between her two hands. Comforting herself he noted. Her finger tapped lightly but quickly against the rim of the warm mug. Anxious - trying to hide it. She was avidly avoiding eye-contact.That one's obvious he told himself hiding, a secret he smiled as he added one more point to his analysis of her eyes doesn't want to get in trouble. But all that was logical - he didn't have to be a brilliant poker player to be able to read those signs.
It was then that he noticed her chest. The rise and fall was so slight, as though she was holding her breath but taking short sharp breaths as she needed to. Odd he squinted his eyes slightly and noticed a few other things he had missed straight away: her shoulders were hunched slightly away from him, as though she was protecting herself from something and her body was turned in the opposite direction to him. It was such a subtle sign but it was definitely there. Is she frightened? He considered with genuine concern. Of what?
He had to make his next move carefully but it needed to be effective. She wasn't the kind of girl who would willingly tell him of any weaknesses - she was always so strong around him and his brother. And it wasn't like Dean or y/n ever openly discussed their feelings...especially with each other. He also understood that he only had this one chance. If he didn't figure it out now she would ensure an opportunity like this never came up again. He took a moment to consider his options and develop a tactic. Which was kinda hard, especially at this early hour.
Eventually he turned his thoughts to an expert on 'romantic, chick-flick crap' What would Sammy do? He asked himself. His brother was brilliant in moments like this - always playing the soppy, 'I know how you feel' card with those puppy eyes and soft smile. It always works too Dean added to himself. He figured it was worth a try - Sam's success rate with these situations was a lot better than his own.
While all this had been running through Dean's mind, y/n had sat in her seat, figuring out the answers she would give for the questions she knew Dean was about to ask her. Usually she was brilliantly witty and quick - especially when it came to making up stories for anyone they crossed paths with while on a job. But right now she had absolutely nothing. It must be the no sleep thing catching up with me she concluded. When Dean finally started asking her questions she still had no plan...she would have to simply bend the truth...
Resting his left arm on the back of her chair again, Dean reached forward and took the near-empty mug from her grasp and placed it on the table. His actions caused her to look up at him questioningly. He didn't say anything in response, instead he launched into the situation at hand.
"Y/n, why aren't you in bed?" His question was firm, but gentle. He hoped it came across as he intended.
This was an easy question for her to answer - as it didn't need to be hidden or turned into a lie. "I couldn't sleep. So I came out here to draw until morning." She said, as casually as possible.
"O.k. And why couldn't you sleep?" He leaned in slightly closer, trying to catch her downcast eyes.
This one was a more difficult question - there was no way she could tell him the whole truth. "I don't know." she said with a slight shrug. "I tried everything I could think of to get to sleep but in the end I had to give up...so I came out here."
He considered her response for a minute. He found it very hard to believe that she had no idea what was bothering her. She was a smart woman, a woman who knew her own mind. He tried again.
"Sweetheart" he started as he reached his thumb and forefinger out to her chin and tilted her face up until their eyes met "surely you have some idea of what was preventing you from getting to sleep".
She looked directly into his green eyes and became distracted. Loosing her words and thoughts for a moment all she could do was shake her head at him in response. He smiled and moved his hand from her chin up to place a piece of stray hair behind her ear before moving his arm to rest back on the table ledge.
"Are you having nightmares?" he coaxed gently.
"No" she shook her head to reiterate what she was saying, "no, nothing like that, I'm fine."
"O.k." He thought for a moment without taking his eyes off her. "Are you worried about something finding you here? A ghost, or monster, or someone from your past?"
She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed and shook her head. "No, I thought nothing could get in here...that no-one knew where it was" she searched his face for the response.
He nodded and added "No one can get in here darlin', and even if they could I would never let them get to you. You're completely safe here. Sammy and I will make sure of that."
She nodded at what she knew to be the truth, "I know, it doesn't worry me at all" as an after thought she then added "besides I don't need protection - I'll be fighting alongside you two. You need all the help you can get".
He laughed out loud at her delayed objection and mischievous smile but then went straight back to quizzing her.
"So then did something happen on the hunt?"
She could see his mind working out all the possible moments something could have got past him and got to her without him knowing about it. She replayed the night in her head too and raised her eyebrow at him. He knew as well as she did that the job had been so quick and simple they hadn't been given the chance to split up throughout the whole thing. She humoured him anyway and shook her head.
"No, Dean. I told you. There is nothing that made me have trouble sleeping - It just happened."
He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, running his eyes over her face and body. Scanning her for a clue or answer. He leaned forward again, this time with his elbows resting on his knees.
"Are you hurt? Sick?...Pregnant?"
She rolled her eyes, groaned and stood up "I'm going to bed Dean, I'm finally tired".
The moment she stood to leave was the moment he realised it was time to change tactic. The caring, sharing, lovey-dovey approach wasn't working. It was time to go back to a style he was more comfortable with when it came to discussions - direct and honest.
"Oh, I don't think so babe, not just yet your not."
And with that he reached out and grabbed the waistband of y/n's pj shorts, pulling her close enough to wrap his arm around her waist and hold her in place while he used his other arm to turn her chair around so it was directly facing his. When he had positioned the chair where he wanted it, he placed her back down so that she was comfortably seated again.
For a moment she was speechless. She had to take a moment to collect her thoughts. Firstly, Dean had just refused to let her leave. He was obviously adamant about getting to the bottom of her secret. Why was he so committed to finding out? and how was she going to avoid it?
Secondly she couldn't get past her surprise of how close she and Dean had just been and how casually he grabbed her. She wasn't afraid of touching by any means, it was just that she never really touched people unless she was intimate with them, or hurt. The only times the boys had ever really handled her was when she was injured - they had never really hugged or touched at any other time since they had known each other.
The biggest shock for her, however, was the fact she had been left with a pleasant tingling sensation on the parts of her skin where Dean's arm had made contact - it was ridiculously distracting so she focused on training her thoughts elsewhere while the sensation died down.
Both of them sat facing each other for a few moments of silence. Y/n simply looked down at her lap, running through her thoughts and sorting out what had happened and where she was going to go next with this line of questioning while Dean sat looking directly at her. Waiting.
Finally she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. She'd had enough of this. He couldn't make her feel this way - so out of control. She never got nervous around people, never actively tried to hide from them. And it shouldn't be any different with the man sitting directly opposite her.
"Are we going to do this until sun-up?" She questioned with irritation.
He smiled his cocky half-smile "I don't know. How long are you going to take to answer my questions?"
"I have answered your questions Dean. Now we are simply sitting in silence!"
"Babe, we're only sitting in silence as we wait for you to answer my last question."
"What last question?"
She took a minute to think about the last few minutes, working her way back through each moment searching for the question he was referring to.
Watching her genuinely confused expression, Dean decided to help her out. She was probably a little thrown by how quickly he reacted. He hadn't ever really man-handled her before (not that he hadn't wanted to sometimes) and she looked a little put out by it.
"Are you hurt, sick or pregnant?" He reiterated.
She looked at him with an irritated expression. With rising frustration on each word she responded "No Dean. I'm not hurt. I'm not sick. And I'm certainly not pregnant".
She glared at him expectantly. Waiting for the next ridiculous question. She just wanted to go to bed. She wanted to pretend this conversation hadn't happened. She wanted to pretend she didn't have her early morning realisation regarding the desires she had towards Dean Winchester. She wanted to find that personal strength and control again. The control that had been completely lost - quite quickly - since Dean had begun his interrogation.
Dean leaned back in his chair with an audible sigh of frustration. He tilted his head towards the ceiling and ran his hand down his face.
'Alright then, let's forget the 'why are you out here' question for a minute.'
'Finally.' She agreed with an obvious release of tension in her shoulders.
Before she had the chance to get out of her chair Dean reached both arms out, placing a hand on either side of the seat, and dragged y/n closer to him until the front of her chair almost touched the front of his. He manoeuvred his legs wider so that they were placed on either side of her chair. This allowed for y/n's legs to be nestled in-between his and the two chairs. Moving his hands from the seat, but still leaning in, he launched into the next question.
'And let's move onto another one...'
She rolled her eyes at him and slouched back further into her chair. Dean simply ignored her response and continued
'...Why didn't you come wake me or Sammy?'
The visible tension in her body returned 'I don't need to be comforted in the middle of the night Dean, I hunt damn monsters. I am fully capable of protecting myself from things lurking in the shadows'. Her words were spoken relatively quietly but the tone was anything but submissive - it was filled with tension and a genuine hint of anger.
Dean backed off slightly, leaning away from her and putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
'Hey, I know how strong you are. That's why I'm worried about you sweetheart. It's not like you to be this on edge. I've only seen you frightened a few times...and they have only ever been when normal people would have passed out from fear. I just wanna know what's goin' on is all.'
With that y/n softened. Dean was worried about me. The thought made her slightly warm and...tingly...She snapped back from that thought to focus on the rest of what he had said. Frightened? She wasn't on edge. Yes, she was trying to hide a few major feelings but she was pretty darn good at poker and she was using a number of those skills. There was no way he could see through her like that!
'What makes you think I'm scared?' She asked quietly looking at him directly in the eyes.
He chuckled at her, 'I was the one who taught you how to play poker y/n y/m/n.'
She raised an eyebrow at him, indicating for him to continue. She knew he was wrong - she just needed to know what he was thinking in order to prove it.
With a sigh, slight shrug and a smile he gave her the detail she was asking for 'Your chest is tight, your breath shallow, you avoid looking at me, your left foot hasn't kept still since I came out here, you're defensive, your shoulders are hunched, your arms are tense and you keep turning your body away from me. There are only a few times I have seen you like this: When we had to go back to your home town for that demon cult gig; The night you couldn't get that dick from the bar off you 'cause of your broken ribs; and the first few weeks after we picked you up...and in the past it has all only meant one thing - you're scared, but trying to hide it from me.'
She blinked at him for a few moments searching his face, trying to figure out how he knew so much. So many things he mentioned were such subtle details or were moments from so long ago - things she never would have thought Dean Winchester would have noticed or remembered. She glanced down at her feet and noted her left foot rubbing against the ankle of the right. Oops. She held her foot still, pushed her shoulders down and took a deep breath into her stomach.
'I'm not scared Dean. I really just couldn't sleep - I must of been thinking too much or the rain kept me up, or something - so I got up and came out here to draw. I didn't want to wake you guys up - this is the first real sleep you've had in months. I was never going to rob you of that'. She looked up at him and smiled.
'Babe' he responded teasingly, 'You wouldn't have been getting me out of bed, you could've just crawled in next to me. And it wouldn't have taken me long to get you to sleep...' He said with a wink and coy smile.
She stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. Her mind was running with all the techniques Dean Winchester could draw on 'to get her to sleep'. And, with his extensive experience, she knew there would be a lot. She felt the heat rise up her cheeks and looked down at the hands she held clenched in her lap, hoping he wouldn't notice the heat that had just run through her whole body - from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.
His comment should have lightened the mood, she would often laugh at his dirty comments or playfully tease him back when he wanted to flirt. She never got all prudish on him, that was Sam's role. But now, instead of easing the tension the situation had turned to the exact opposite. Y/n was completely silent and had closed herself off again.
They were back to where they had started.
He leaned back in his chair, hoping he could get a better look at the woman in front of him, he narrowed his eyes and scanned her body. She had gone back to having her hands held tightly in her lap, her legs squeezed together, her shoulders hunched and her head hanging down - avoiding any eye-contact. His brow furrowed in confusion and he had subconsciously leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees in a typical Dean-Winchester-thinking-pose. What the hell? He asked himself as he ran through the last few minutes of conversation.
I told her what I had noticed. She relaxed. She told me why she had refused to come wake me. I made a joke to ease the tension...
He sat in his chair watching her until he noticed the blush that had spread across her cheeks, It was then that he realised what was going on. His eyes went wide and he sat up straighter in the chair. His head tilted to the side slightly, keeping his eyes on y/n (who had still not looked up at him). He considered his epiphany, running it through his mind to check if it could really be true. Slowly a smile came to his face, growing wider until it could reach no more. It's true he told himself. He reached over the table and picked up the two mugs. Standing up he walked over to the sink, giving y/n a bit of space for a minute while she worked through what was going on.
She felt the movement in front of her but didn't dare look up. She had lost. There was no way she could make a solid and believable lie out of this reaction. The comment just took her by surprise; she didn't have her guard up as she was tired and the conversation had gone on for so long that she had settled into a routine. She forgot she was meant to be holding it all together and keeping her secret.
She felt Dean return to the place in front of her. He stood for a few moments, waiting for her to look at him. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. She was uncomfortable and he knew it. He needed to ease her fears and help her to settle down. Placing his hands on either side of her face he could feel the heat radiating from her skin. Smiling he tilted her face up to meet his and bent down so they were eye-to-eye. He searched her face for a moment, double checking that his assumptions were right. They most certainly are he confirmed for himself. He knew her well enough to read it. His smile grew again as he spoke quietly, gently.
'You are scared...' He smiled widely '...just not of any monster.'
He chuckled as he leaned closer, hearing her breath hitch. 'Aw babe I won't bite' he soothed - still holding his smile, and her face in his hands.
Leaning in he bought his mouth closer so that she could feel his warm breath on her skin. She closed her eyes for what felt like the briefest of seconds and felt his soft lips press against hers. She had been right; he was warm and smelt like musk and leather. Pulling away he watched as she slowly opened her eyes and gave him a small, uncertain smile. Grinning back at her he stood up and held out his hand.
'How about we get you to bed, eh?'
She nodded slightly as she put her hand into his so that he could pull her up. She allowed him to lead her by the hand through the bunker, turning lights off as he went, until he got to his open door. Taking her hand from his and giving him a smile more confident than before, she turned to continue down the hall to her own room.
Dean, however, had other plans. Putting his arm out to block her path he wrapped it around her waist. Questioningly she looked up at him. He smiled down at her and placed his lips to her forehead in a brief kiss. Then, taking her shoulders, he gently turned her to face back towards the direction of his comfortable bed. Moving his hand down to rest on her lower back he gently guided her into his room. Once they were both safely over the threshold he quietly closed the door behind them; knowing that Sammy would be waking up soon and he really didn't want to be disturbed.