"Sleep with me?"

Your voice was soft, almost hesitant, as you crawled into bed beside Dean, carefully tucking yourself into his arms. For a moment, you weren’t sure if he’d respond, if he’d pull away like he had so many times before. But his body shifted slightly, just enough for you to feel his warmth envelop you, and you allowed yourself a small, hopeful sigh. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start—a quiet attempt to bridge the ever-growing gap that had formed between the two of you.

The weight of the last few weeks lingered heavily in the room. The endless hunts, the sleepless nights, and the constant tension had taken their toll. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion; it was the way the fights had become a part of your routine, slipping into your lives like an unwelcome guest. Arguments over small things—where to go next, what lead to follow, who left the weapons bag behind—had chipped away at the foundation of what you once had.

It wasn’t like either of you wanted this. You knew Dean was carrying his own weight of guilt and frustration, just as you were. The life you lived didn’t leave much room for soft moments, for the kind of care that relationships were supposed to thrive on. But that didn’t mean you didn’t crave it—crave him.