𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐒

dean winchester tapped his boots against the motel’s suspicious, grey-brown carpet. he tapped his pen against the stained wooden table. he pushed his already stretched sleeves further up his forearms. he was antsy today.

his eyes flicked over to you. curled up on the sofa, coffee mug in hand, kafka’s metamorphosis in other. reading. like you didn’t even know what you were doing to him. you looked so …. domestic.

maybe it was all sam’s depressing sap chat, but the thought of making you a mama was stuck firmly in his mind. maybe it would be nice, for once. living away from the hunting. your relationship was casual, light-hearted and teasing, but the more he thought of it, maybe he didn’t mind commitment when it came to you.

his eyes snapped back to his unattempted research. open book, bobby’s old notes on a wendigo. might as well be in japanese, his inability to comprehend any of that right now.

damn you, for making him feel like this and not even noticing.