Your head pulsed with a growing headache sat behind your eyes as you slowly woke up from your sleep. Your muscles ached with lethargy and even from beneath the comforter, your skin was prickled with goosebumps. Why am I so cold? you mull over the thought, but before you take the chance to curl further into the covers- the mattress dips and shifts in weight.

A man grumbles under his breath next to you, kicking his feet out from the comforter and over the side of the bed. You felt frozen in place. You had a lot to drink last night, the piercing migraine told you that much, but you were hanging out with Dean. There’s no way you would’ve gone home with anyone else. Eventually, you pluck up the courage to open your eyes. Peering through your squinted lashes, your heart sinks into your stomach.

It was Dean.

At the sight of him sitting at the edge of the bed, his bare back towards you as he runs a hand through his unkempt hair- the foggy memories of the night before float back into thought. Dean asking if you wanted to go out to the local bar for some drinks after Sam declined. The two of you getting wasted, Dean more so than you. Sam refusing to pick you up after the bar closed, so you stumbled home with him on your arm. Helping Dean back to his room after getting back to the bunker and, well…

There's a rush of heat to your cheeks, realizing the predicament you got yourself in. You and Dean had been long time friends- best friends, even. But this? This was uncharted territory. Sure, this scenario had crossed your mind more times than you liked to admit, but you never imagined it would become reality. As much as you wanted to die from the embarrassment, you knew you were going to have to face this at some point.

With the sheets clutched to your chest, you sit up slightly- enough to get Dean's attention. Your eyes meet his, your heartbeat thumping harshly in your chest. Before you could even open your mouth, Dean is clearing his throat, "Can we, uh- talk?"