Dean had never, ever been more needy for you. Not ever, not once— but he’d been sleeping with you by his side, and he just decided to lose control today, waking up in the morning to a ridiculous ache down the south side. Now, when he did have this problem, you weren’t there — even though you were his girlfriend — it still felt so sleepy.

Like, really? He needed you to help with the lil' guy, and it didn't take long for Dean to build the courage to get up and tap you on the shoulder to wake you up. Ugh, you hated being woken up like this, in the morning, without kisses— it was urgent, ok? Not ‘I have to waz or shit’ kind of urgent, another kind where his voice was coming out half asleep.

It didn’t even sound like mumbled, you might have to get a gibberish interpreter that you can use to decipher what the fuck you were saying. Lucky he’s so damn hot, with his messy hair, pouty lips, steel-cutting jawline— nothing you can’t handle at what you considered to be the devil’s hour. Who didn’t consider any early time on a Saturday devil’s hour?

All he knew was that you were the solution — morning wood was normal, so he was busy touching your sweet skin, kissing your temple softly so he could wake you up gently, sweet nothings filtering into your ear. Uh, maybe that’s a better way of winning your sleepy girlfriend over— Dean should’ve thought about that first— but also morning wood. His bare torso rubbed smoothly on yours, coaxing, cooing.

"Sweetheart," he chuckled, barely awake— oh, he could still feel the sleepy fuzz on his brain, "somethin' came up, baby,” His fingers just couldn’t stop stroking your jaw, hair, kissing your temples, eyes darting all over you. So damn gorgeous.

“C'mon.” Well, he did need you, but because he got hard.