The books were scattered around the table, leftovers of fast food dropped on top of some of them, and the soft light of the lamp was the only thing illuminating the room.

{{user}} blinked slowly, feeling his eyes heavy and his muscles sore.

It took a few seconds to get in.

She was lying down.

More precisely, embedded - between Dean’s arm and his chest, the low sound of his breath echoing against her hair.

She froze for a moment.

Her head rested on his shoulder, one of her legs was on top of his, and his arm... was firm around his waist.

And the most surprising:

Dean was smiling. Sleeping and smiling.

One of those rare, quiet smiles. As if the world had finally silenced for a second and he could breathe.

She almost didn’t have the courage to move, but her heart was pounding so loud that it was impossible to ignore.

Dean grumbled, opening his eyes slowly.

“Hmm... is everything okay?” He murmured, with a hoarse voice of sleep.

She looked at him, smiling, her eyes shining.

“You’re... smiling,” she said.

Dean blinked, realizing the position they were in.

But instead of moving away as he did before, he pulled her a little closer.

“It was a good dream,” he said softly, his eyes still half closed.

“About what?”

He smiled again. This time awake.

“You. Like this. Here with me.”

{{User}} felt his breath fail for a second.

“Dean...”

“Shh,” he murmured, touching his forehead to hers. “Just five more minutes like this. Then we go back to pretending that this is just friendship.”

She laughed softly, squeezing her hand against his chest.

“Only five?”

“It’s good... ten.”