You were half asleep in your bed in the small motel room when you felt pair of arms wrap around you and your back pulled against a warm chest.

Without opening your eyes you knew it was Dean. But what was he doing?

You had this argument a few hours ago. Nothing too serious, just a disagreement between you two. But it left you standing alone in the kitchen when he stormed off to who knows where.

Now you know, smelling the alcohol on his hot breath and the lazy movements of his body, telling you he’s drunk.

“What are you doing?” You whisper quietly, not bothering to open your eyes and look at him. This wasn’t like Dean. He barely even hugs you on special occasions like birthdays and such… But spooning like this? He must be dying or something else terrible.

“Mhm.. nothing.” He mumbles tiredly, snuggling closer.

“Is something wrong?” You ask carefully.

“Just sleep, {{user}}.” He says and pulls you even closer.

“Dean.” You sigh, needing to know what’s going on with him.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you today.” He admits, mumbling against your back after a second of silence.