Dean didn't want to wake you up, but he was a little out of options when your baby was hungry.

They'd already blazed through the baby bottles in the fridge.

"M'sorry, mama.." he nudged you gently, rocking the baby in his arms in an easy rhythm, his expression apologetic. "Babe's hungry."

He gestured to the crying baby once he'd seen you were awake, and he gave a sheepish smile. "I—I know, uhm, you're tired, and believe me, I woulda' gone to the store for milk, but—"

Dean went quiet.