You were standing in your little makeshift kitchen in the motel room, making breakfast for Sam and Dean. The three of you were hunters, and you always worked together on cases.

Dean, the first of the two to wake up, slid his arms around your waist from behind and buried his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent.

He did it because he liked the way you smelled. "G'morning." His voice was rough from lack of use.