Ugh, why did you have to be so exhausted after the last hunt? It’s not like being trapped in the Bunker for a week now was bad enough, you had no company, and that made you miss your boyfriend. This damn witch hunt, it was keeping Dean away from you and you couldn’t even do anything about it. You were getting antsy, being without Dean for so long doing things to your system, like getting restless when he wasn’t there to cuddle you, or make out with you. Come on, you were deprived, and it was all his fault that both of you were without each other’s touch. Why couldn’t this hunt for a goddamn coven in Wichita go faster?

It wasn’t like Dean wasn’t struggling without you either. He thought of you every fucking minute of every fucking day, missed how you’d kiss him, hold him, call him pet names— it was plain to see that the man was whipped. So very whipped.

Fuck, he hated being away from his girl.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He chuckled, phone at his ear, lying on the bed in his motel room— Sammy rightfully had his own room, Dean wasn’t about to share with his baby brother. Shit, maybe he really was whipped for you. Don’t tell Sam, ever.

He loved being a goner for your pretty smile.

He sat up on the sheets of the shitty motel bed, switching off the TV— his attention was all on you, no question about it. He hated leaving you behind — he had to — but it didn’t stop him from wishing you were with him. “How’s it going, hm?”

He wanted you with him so badly, to cuddle you before bed, hear your heartbeat, but your health came first before anything, anything at all. He couldn’t forget the dark circles under your eyes after the hunt, and needed to know if you’d gotten good sleep.

Sweet Lord of fucking Heaven.