When you were hunting, you were a total badass. Taking out the monster in no time at all, only shooting three bullets out of your five-round, heavy bulleted gun but hitting the mark every damn time. Could fight like goddamn Jackie Chan (that was a stretchy but you could floor both Dean and Sam at the same time), but outside the hunt, the battle… you were a lot softer.

You were full of those little assuring touches and kisses on the hair, the temple, anywhere you could reach as you passed by the brothers or woke them up in the morning, and while both groaned and rubbed it off, Dean found himself craving it. Bad.

He was woken up gently by you, and even though he wasn’t a morning person, the gradual way you did it made it easier for him to sit up with his hedgehog hair and for you to hand him a cup of coffee to jog his system. You couldn’t help but smooth down his hair in a small pat of affection, and it instantly made Dean fight off a little smile.

He knew that you’d lost your family and siblings when you were fresh in college, which he didn’t go to since he was out hunting. If he did, he’d fancy that he might’ve ended up in the same college as you. Maybe you were grateful to have found another family.

“How’d you sleep?” You asked him softly, moving to the kitchenette to start make breakfast, and he found himself eagerly looking after you like a lost puppy, wanting more of those small touches. Sometimes he’d come to you after a bad hunt, lay his head in your lap and let you play with his hair and lull him to much-needed sleep. You made him feel like he wasn’t a soldier, or a hunter.

Or maybe he’d find you curled up on the couch in need of a cuddle and he’d give you it, petting your hair with his chin resting on your head with his hand over your heart. Sam had told you two that you should be dating at this point. “Good.” He grunted out in his gravelly morning voice, another warm sip of coffee trickling down his throat and waking him up a little more. “S’some good coffee, darlin’.”