Dean had never considered himself the sentimental kind of man. Nor was he an early bird by trade. He lived on coffee and general over-alertedness as a rule. It was a brisk autumn morning - the kind that left a little bit of frost on the window and distorted the flaming colours of the leaves outside.

Dean was not an early bird - but you certainly were. Living together with you, even temporarily, had involved some compromise. But... coming down the steps to see you cleaning in the kitchen and singing softly to yourself made the waking up so damn early worth it every time.

On this particular morning, you were listening to an oldies station. Dean could recognize most of the songs, though he was a few years older than you. A certain song came on, and you looked over at him.

"Dance with me." Your soft voice carried across the kitchen.

Dean rolled his eyes, a smile already creeping onto his face. "If you insist." And before Dean knew it, he was swaying with you in the early morning light, big, rough hands on your hips.