Tough Love ✔️

You woke with a stiff neck, and briefly wondered how you could've gotten it. But then you remembered what events you had gotten up to and did the night before.

What innocent cuddling turned into. What heated, passionate kissing turned into. What -

"You're awake now, ______," you heard Dean murmur, and turning your head slightly to see the shorter, elder blonde Winchester, a smile broke over your lips, like sunshine over the world at morning.

How unlike you, you thought. But it happened anyway.

"Do," you began, pausing as you began stretching out the cramps and creaks, a yawn coming from your mouth, "Do we tell Sam? That we walked in on him last night when he was," you frowned, not really wanting to talk about it, "or that we -,"

Dean shrugged. "I'll tell him. Don't fret."

You raised your hands sleepily in surrender to a crime not committed. "Not fretting, Winchester, can you tell?"

And suddenly, as quick as you could blink, there was a kiss on your forehead. A blush seeped over your cheeks like spilt ink and you gave another smile. Dean had made you different, you thought as you looked to him, being tough around him was as useless as a surfboard in a wildfire.

He made you smile. He had you open.

You'd been around, and seriously, you'd never pick him as the best for you. As his sort to be your type.

Maybe impeccably handsome, mass supernatural killers weren't your type ... maybe you were just into him.

"Do you do this to all the women you meet, Dean?" you wondered idly.

You didn't mind, though, if he said yes. Let him do what he does, and let yourself do what you do. Let it be; a simple philosophy.

There was a pause, then "Well, not all of them ..." he stumbled over his words. "I, uh -,"

You shrugged. "I don't mind. Not jealous. At all, honestly; I wouldn't mind if what just happened turned into a one night stand. At least it was with you."

Dean gave a huff of air, a soundless snort of laughter. "That's a nice speech, but you're the one going away. South Dakota?" He reminded you.

You groaned, shifting in your positioning on the backseat of the Impala. Oh, you remembered, that rendezvous with Bobby.

"Yeah, in this case, it is me," you agreed, "but I'm ... I -," you sat up straight and pulled the loose strands of (h/c) from your eyes, "what I'm trying to say is, if you happen to drop by Bobby Singer's place, come in. I'd like that."

Dean nodded, and you could see how tired he was. It was a look that all hunters wore after a while. Seeing unnatural, and frankly, supernatural things did that to you.

"I'd like that - too," he said.

It wasn't until you sank into a hug with him that you realised his voice had been choked with emotion.

Tough love, you said to yourself. You don't get what you want. And when you don't ... deal with it. Tough.