It was early, 4:35 AM on the stove clock. You and Dean were in the kitchen because you decided you wanted to make muffins.

On a normal morning during the fall, you and your sister would have been up together making pumpkin muffins, mixing in some birdseed muffins for the local crowd that inhabited the area around the bunker. It was a fall tradition for the two of you.

But today, you decided that Dean should help. Your sister had been working with Sam over the last few days for nights on end, and needed the sleep anyways.

So there you two were, Dean’s face dusted with flour, along with his hands, which he had jokingly pressed on your chest to make white handprints on your shirt. Dean couldn’t cook for shit, which meant you had to do most of the work, which you didn’t particularly mind. It was the fact that even though he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, he still offered to help and be there for you.

As you stirred the bowl, Dean stood beside you, watching you work.

“You look great, sweetheart.” He hummed, making you laugh softly.

“Dean, we woke up an hour ago, there’s no way I look good right now.” You whispered, careful not to wake anyone else up. Dean chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his chest.

“I mean it, you know. It doesn’t matter the time of day or night, you never fail to impress me.” He hummed, his eyes never leaving you.