In the day, Dean had to have a hand on you no matter what, to check you were there. You were his girl after all, he was permanently freaked out of his mind as to whether you’d get hurt or if he’d lose you. Which is why he showed you how much he loved you every night — in the day if he could — just like he did last night, very thoroughly.

So now it’s day.

Dean was a clingy fucking bastard in the morning, as he wasn’t a morning person at all. His warmth surrounded you, hand on your stomach and hip, shirtless and in sweats after last night’s five or so rounds— he was a human koala in the morning, tightening his corded arm around you with a grunt.

No, it was too warm, too comfy, he didn’t want you to leave— he was too sleepy to do it, so he pressed his chest further against your back, sleepy sound leaving his mouth. Waking up now meant he’d have to leave the bed at some point, and did he want to? No, absolutely not, no thank you.

Dean hummed, keeping a tight grip on you— c’mon, sweetheart. He didn’t even open his eyes, just nuzzled into you in a way that had your heart melting, wanting to fall back asleep again. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” His voice was tired, but loving.

Even if he didn’t want to wake up, he still let his hand cup your chin, thumbing it lazily. God, you looked gorgeous in the morning, even if he couldn’t see your face— even if he didn’t like mornings, you were definitely the best part of it. Your gorgeous ass was the best part of anything. “Gorgeous.”

He loved you.