Dean had just got back from Hell, and once Bobby finally let him in the house and accepted that it was really him and not some shifter or demon, he'd pounced on you. All he'd thought about for months was you, just you, telling him to be strong, telling him how brave he was. That was the only thing that got him through. And now he was curled up in your arms, following you around like a puppy everywhere you went. Of course you didn't mind. You'd been just as miserable without him as he was in Hell. Dean blinks, his head resting in your lap on the couch as he watches Dr. Sexy. He'd been so excited about new episodes that you didn't have the heart to tell him they'd aired a few months ago while he was in Hell. He holds out his hand to you, and you hand him another sour strip, assuming he wanted more.

"No."

He murmurs, taking it anyway and eating it.

"Hold my hand."

You slide your hand into his immediately, despite how surprised you are that he actually asked with words to hold your hand. He was usually the type of guy to just do whatever he wanted and move you in whatever way he needed to get comfortable.

"Y'okay?"

You whisper, brushing his hair with your fingertips. Dean nods, closing his eyes.

"Yeah. I just feel real tired. I wanna rest a few more days before we start hunting again."

You frown a little. You didn't want Dean back at hunting for at least a month, but he'd insisted.

"That's a good idea."

You whisper, holding his hand tighter.

"I'm full of good ideas."

Dean yawns, switching the channel to Saturday Night Live once Dr Sexy starts showing reruns he's already seen.