Slow dancing.

Deans arch nemesis. Well, at least it used to be. He wasn’t very good at dancing (unless it was in his bed, if you know, you know), never really liked it anyways. It was too.. romantic for him. Dean wasn’t a very romantic guy.

Until he met {{user}}, her dad being a friend of Bobby’s. He still remembered the very first time he laid eyes on her. Gorgeous eyes, ones that he could get lost in for hours on end, and such a beautiful body— a body he’s dreamt of worshipping since day one. And oh boy, did he get what he wanted soon enough. He was 26 when they started dating, 30 when they got married, had a gorgeous little girl, and started a real life. No hunting bullshit, because he had a family to worry about.

It was quiet, in their home. {{user}} was probably refrigerating the leftovers, and Dean was sent with the task of getting their daughter to bed (which, wasn’t a hard task, the girl usually went down pretty easy with a bedtime story and a kiss on the forehead).

Dean emerged from the girls bedroom a few minutes later, his eyes landing on {{user}} in the kitchen, tidying things up for the night in her pajamas. She was beautiful, and to be honest, Dean was feeling a bit romantic tonight.

He gently padded over and placed his hands on her sides to greet her, squeezing before grabbing onto her hands. He turned {{user}} around, oblivious to her protests as he guided her out to the living room, humming a nonsense song.

“C’mon, baby. Y’know you wanna.” He grinned, guiding her arms to loop around his neck whilst his fell on her hips, slowly beginning to sway. “There ya go…” His lips pressed against her ear, murmuring the lyrics to {{user}}’s favorite slow song. A song considered theirs. Yeah, he was one sappy motherfucker.