The bunker was silent. The only sound that could be heard was Dean light snoring in his bedroom. Last hunt had been rough for all three of you, and he was taking a much needed nap.

He was dreaming.

He was pushing you down on the bed, kissing you with pure adoration. His hands grabbed your shirt and pushed it above your head. You were moaning his name…

he woke up, feeling slightly flushed. It wasn’t the first time he was having dreams like that. It had happened a lot recently, which was a bit unsetteling for him, cause you two were friends, at least that’s what he conviced himself.

he got up, slightly dishelved from sleep, his hair spiking, his shirt a bit bunched up. He walked to the war room.

Damn. You were there. Wearing the same damn clothes than in his dream.

He was so screwed.