Ficlet - Rated: K - Character: Dean - Summary: Just a simple moment for Dean - Notes: Feedback is love
The sheets felt cool as Dean slipped between them. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he gathered the soft pillow close against his cheek. He felt his muscles soften into the mattress taking with them the intensity of the hunt he'd had that night. Hot showers and clean sheets always had a way of making that happen. With a small smile he drifted off to sleep.
There was a bright light shining through the window as Dean walked into the kitchen. The blue vase on the sill caught the ray's of the sun and fractured them across the table and tile floor. Warmth, happiness, contentment.
She caught his eye, as she always did. Her back was to him as she stood looking in a cabinet. Unaware of his stare, she reached above her head and her cotton robe rode up the backs of her thighs. Dean leaned against the door jamb and let his eyes travel down the length of her smooth legs taking in the curve of her calf.
She cried out as the object she'd been trying to retrieve slipped and came tumbling towards her. Instantly acting, Dean covered the short distant to catch it before it collided with her. He paused momentarily, his hand wrapped around a jar beside her shoulder. She had covered her head instinctively with her hands and noticing she felt no pain, she lowered them to look up into Dean's green eyes.
"Thank you." She softly spoke.
Dean smiled at her. "Any time."
Barely a breath between them, they stood gazing at each other. He could smell her; shampoo and lavender. Clean, fresh, intoxicating. Blue eyes captivated him. They shone so bright they were nearly hypnotic. Dean thought that he wouldn't mind staring into them all day. He felt that way every time she looked at him.
"I didn't know you were awake."
"You want me to make you some breakfast?"
"Thank you, but no. Not right now."
Nodding and smiling, she turned away from him. He leaned against the counter and watched her cross the room. He golden hair swayed over her shoulders as she bent and moved gathering items from the refrigerator. When she stood in profile at the range he saw her full lips shift into a smirk. She knew he really was hungry. He could tell by the smirk on her lips. Without asking him she began making him breakfast.
"You don't need to do that." he said with a smile on his face.
"You're hungry. I know you. And you're still standing there so I know you want something."
Her freckles bunched together as she gave him one of the cutest know-it-all expressions that he had ever seen. Then again, everything she did was the cutest thing he had ever seen. That's why he lived with her. At least when he wasn't on a hunt.
She turned back to the stove and spoke softly and bravely "You have to leave again today, don't you?"
Heart breaking Dean strode over to her and slipped his arms around her waist. "I'll be back. I'll always come back."
She leaned into him and turned her cheek to rest on his chest. "I worry that you won't one day."
Taking her by the shoulders, Dean turned her to face him. Damn she was beautiful. His chest constricted as he envisioned never seeing her again. Running a fingertip along the length of her jaw, he shook his head.
"Never gonna happen."
Cupping her face gently in his palm he leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips.
"You're my home."
She smiled softly at him before turning around to attend to the range again. He stayed behind her; touching her. His hand covered hers and together they used the utensil to lift and move the food in the pan.
They whispered and giggled and nuzzled as they cooked and Dean felt the peace that comes from love and home. Relishing, savoring, basking.
"What's that sound?" Dean's brow wrinkled as he asked.
She continued cooking but didn't respond.
"You don't hear that?" He asked her. Again she gave no answer and Dean pulled away to turn and look around the room.
A stained warped ceiling was all he saw. Blinking, Dean stared at it as he remembered he was in a dingy roadside motel. He ran his hands over his face and sat up to look into the lifeless room. It was cold and uncomforting. He could always try to close his eyes and recapture the warmth of the kitchen. Concentrate hard on it and the emotions he'd felt might linger for a few precious hours more. But it wouldn't last. It never did. No matter how many nights he had this dream, he always woke up.