All his life, Dean never thought he’d have anyone, or a place to come home to at the end of the day. And he didn’t, but you were almost that. Dean met you when he was younger, at a bar in Chicago when John kicked him out – again – and he didn’t know any other place in the city. You were stunning, both young and old. He could never go near Chicago without going down for a drink from you, and, eventually, get into your pants, something you never complained about.

During your visits over the years, which could range from seeing him twice a month to going months without hearing from him, Dean found himself growing more comfortable with you and you appreciated his visits. But it never went beyond that, you didn't have something, did you? He'd come over, sleep with you and leave before you woke up for work, and you were fine with that.

But today was different, you woke up still feeling one of his hands on your hip and his soft breathing below your ear.