In The Supernatural

Chapter 22

"Time to get up, knucklehead," was the first thing I heard after what felt like was the shortest night of my life.

I groaned. "Just five more minutes. Or ten... Maybe an hour."

"No, you need to get up. You've been asleep for 19 hours. It's 5 in the afternoon. Wake up." 

Slowly I sat up, not wanting to leave the comfort of the not-so-soft-but-warm motel bed. I was slumped over in total exhaustion and even though I was still sitting up, I refused to open my eyes. 

I felt the air shoosh past me as Dean walked by quickly, as if with a purpose. "Damn, Jules, you need to shower. Your hair is insane."

I groaned and laid back down into the bed, covering my head with the bedding. The blankets muffled my voice as I said, "You're mean. I like Sam better. He doesn't tell me I'm ugly when I wake up."

Dean chuckled. "That's because he isn't here, young one."

"Where is he?" I asked, still covered in thick blankets, as I slowly woke up withint our conversation. I really didn't care where Sam was, but I was honestly willing to do anything to distract Dean from getting me out of the bed. 

"He went shopping for food," Dean said, his voice leaning toward disgust. "Probably getting rabbit food," he muttered. 

I laughed but didn't say anything. My mind was quieting back down and I was drifting off again. Dean's boots were making loud sounds, and I felt like he was stomping just to annoy me. 

Well too bad, Dean. I was too tired to be annoyed.

Suddely he sighed and I listened to the sound of those loud footsteps make their way over to me, stopping right beside my bed. The next thing I knew, a rush of cold air washed over me as my blankets were pulled off of me by a very, very cruel person.

Immediately I curled up in a little ball, trying to recover as much warmth as I could, knowing the inevitable, of me getting up, would happen soon anyway.

Dean sighed. "Jules, you are literally the most stubborn person I know."

"Dean," I mimicked in a deep tone, "You are literally the most cruel person I know."

"That's bad grammar."

"It's almost like you think I care."

"Allrighty then... I didn't want to have to do this, but..."

"Do wha-"

Without letting me even finish my sentence or anwer me, Dean's hands were on my stomach and I started to laugh. The tyrant was tickling me.

"No, stop!" I yelled.

"Only if you get up," he said roughly, trying to keep in his own laughter.

"Never!"

Without answering, he started to tickle me harder. I couldn't breath I was laughing so hard. My abs were physically hurting. Finally I managed to gasp out, "Okay, okay, I'll get up!"

"You promise?" He asked, not ceasing.

"Promise!"

He let me go immediately. I was still chuckling and breathing really hard, but I was sort of mad because I really hated to be tickled. I was finally able to calm down enough to lay down and breathe normally. Eventually I sat up and noticed Dean sitting on the edge of the bed, an arrogant smirk set on his stupid face.

"You still need to shower," he said.

I sat up so quickly he didn't even see me as I pushed him off the bed.