Whenever there was peace, quiet, and much needed downtime Cena liked to read. Not just any books, but autobiographies. It was always a wonder to discover what all these people had gone through to be the person that they are today. Cena hopes that one day he's able to write one himself and give all the feelings and emotions of winning the belt, the up's and down's of the business, but most importantly, show that not everybody is out to get you.
A bump to Cena's arm brought him out of his thoughts. It didn't feel like a tap like somebody was trying to get his attention and, knowing the person he was next to on the bed, they would have just called his name and poked him in the cheek if he didn't respond fast enough. Turning to face Dean he was taken aback that their eyes didn't meet, but instead he had to look down to see that Dean had slid against the headboard to a half sitting half laying position. The television was on, but it was barely audible (a request Cena had made for the sound to not be loud) and the channel had blanked out to static to cue the end of the late night broadcast. Dean's eyes were closed, but his head slowly bopped up and down.
Cena couldn't help but chuckle. Dean always did this to himself. He always wanted to be the last one to fall asleep, but he couldn't accept that Cena would always beat him at this game. Setting his book aside Cena lowered himself and wrapped an arm behind Dean's shoulders to pull him closer. Without even opening his eyes Dean scooted and let his head rest on Cena's shoulder. There were no mumbles or grumbles that usually greet Cena whenever he does anything to Dean when he's asleep. The only thing that met Cena was the weight of Dean finally at rest, a small nuzzle into the crook of Cena's neck, and fain snores.
Picking up his book again Cena went back to reading only this time he'd reach a hand up to run his fingers through Dean's hair as he slept on.