GUILTY PLEASURE

WOW: stretch: something is a very bad influence on Dean.

Disclaimer: I don't own him

xxxxx

It was Dean's nemesis.

It was seemingly harmless, but underneath it's squashy rectangular exterior, it was a deadly threat to Dean's razor-sharp hunter's instincts.

Dean stood in his room, still warm from a night's sleep the like of which he could only dream of back in the brothers' motel days.

He yawned, stretched and farted. Scratched his head, then his ass, then stretched again; so long he felt his back crack.

He stared down at his memory foam mattress. Still warm and pliant, the dent of his recently sleeping body still present in its downy surface.

It was so, so inviting…

Dean sighed.

Oh damnit, another hour wouldn't hurt.

xxxxx

end