#jbae

1. Imagine Danneel crashing your panel at a convention.

“I can’t believe they told y’all that! I freaking hate them so much,” you laughed along with the audience.

The fan at the microphone had just told you that Jared and Jensen had spoken about you at their previous panel. They had apparently told the story of you having a little too much to drink at the annual Christmas meal in Texas and how you ran through a water fountain fully clothed and in high heels before jumping into a bush and having to be rescued.

“Ok, y’all have to bear in mind that this was my first cast party where I was of legal drinking age in the States. I’ve been allowed to drink in Europe for the past 5 years, and I’m legal in Vancouver, but this year I turned twenty-one so I was allowed to drink at the party in Texas for the first time and everyone knew that,” you started.

You paused, unsure how to tell this story without coming across as someone who didn’t know their limit when it came to alcohol.

“People were buying me drinks all night because it was the first time they legally could and I also bought a few rounds purely because it felt exciting to purchase alcohol in America. I’m a weirdo,” you laughed again to ease some tension you felt.

You put your head in your hands to hide your embarrassment.

“Oh god, I can’t believe I’m telling this story!” you murmured.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to. I will!” you turned your head at the familiar sing-song voice as the crowd drowned out the end of Danneel’s sentence.

You saw her walking out with a microphone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

She smiled at you knowingly and handed you the bottle of water.

You thanked her, undoing the cap and taking a much needed sip.

“So, where shall I start?” Danneel asked, winking at you.

“Are you really going to do this to me?” you asked her, getting up from your stool so that you were both standing, and putting your bottle under the chair.

“Hell yeah!” she started, “Any chance I can get to tell the story of how an inebriated twenty-one-year-old ran through a water fountain fully clothed, jumped into a bush, and had to be rescued by an also-slightly-drunk ‘gargantuan moose man’,” she finished, quoting Misha’s term for Jared that seemed to have stuck.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” you mock-complained.

She slung her arm over your shoulder, pulling you close to her.

“That’s what fake moms are for!” she teased, the side of her head against your own.

“Okay let’s get this show over with,” you relented, accepting defeat and preparing to be humiliated.

2. Imagine being pregnant with Sam’s child.

You clutched the scan in your hands, your heart pounding in your chest as you heard the Impala pull into the motel parking lot.

You heard the doors slam and the muffled noise of voices coming through the walls.

You quickly tucked the scan into your pocket as the handle of the room opened and Dean entered, followed by Sam.

“Hey boys!” you sing-songed, both of them picking up on your odd behaviour and going to ask what was going on.

“Are you-” Dean started.

“Can I speak to Sam?” you interrupted, “Alone.”

Dean looked between you and Sam before turning and heading for the door he just came through.

“I’ll go get some dinner,” he murmured on the way out.

“Hey, what’s up?” Sam asked, moving towards you after the door had shut.

You lowered yourself onto the couch, careful of how you sat with the scan in your jeans pocket.

“I-” you started, your throat suddenly dry.

Sam sat next to you, putting a hand on your knee and looking at you, concerned.

You decided to pull out the scan instead, holding it face down and fiddling with the corners.

“What’s that?” he asked hesitantly.

You handed it over to him and he turned it over in his large hands.

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, “I’m sorry. But… I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Baby, don’t apologise,” Sam whispered, holding your hands in his own and smiling big, “We’re having a baby.”

“Yeah. I guess we are,” you smiled back.

3. Imagine Jensen coming home drunk.

“Hellooooo?”

You heard the voice hollering from the bottom of the stairs as you sat in bed reading.

You put your book down on the bedside table when you saw your husband poke his head around the bedroom door.

“Hello, my love,” Jensen drawled.

“Well hello there,” you chuckled.

He slowly and unsteadily made his way to the foot of the bed, throwing himself down on top of the sheets.

“You’ve still got your shoes on!” you chastised, noticing his boots dangling off the edge of the bed.

He kicked them off without even responding.

“Better?” he looked up at you with hooded eyes.

“Better,” you confirmed.

Jensen kneeled on the bed, pulling at your legs until you were lying flat on the mattress before crawling over you.

He leant in to kiss you sloppily.

“You taste like alcohol,” you laughed, trying to push him away as his scruff tickled you, “Oh my god, Jensen, you stink! Have you been smoking?”

He rolled his lips together, avoiding your gaze.

“Take your clothes off,” you ordered, “Before you make our bed gross,” you added when you noticed Jensen’s eyebrows raise in expectation.

He hastily tried to get his clothes off and you laughed at the uncoordinated commotion.

“We are not, I repeat not, having sex tonight. I can see it in your eyes and the answer is no, Ackles,” you told him.

“Someone’s bossy tonight,” he grumbled, climbing into bed beside you in just his underwear, facing away from you.

“Jensen’s not going to feel too fresh in the morning,” you whispered, slinging your arm over his waist and fitting yourself against his back.

“Jensen will be fine,” he murmured, “This is all Nesnej.”

4. Imagine Ruby asking you out for drinks.

You made your way outside of the motel room to get some air. You always hated being cooped up when you were restless and you just needed to walk it off, burn some energy.

You spotted Dean and Ruby talking in the parking lot, you didn’t want to pry so you stayed hidden behind a truck.

“I remember what it’s like,” you overheard Ruby say to Dean.

“What what’s like?” he asked gruffly.

“Being human,” she responded, her voice laced with sadness.

You emerged from your lurking spot, feeling guilty for eavesdropping and not wanting to impose on the conversation any longer.

Dean saw you approaching and straightened up, putting on his bravado-big-brother stance.

“Hey,” you said as you got closer, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re fine,” Dean said, “I was just headed back in anyway, you coming?”

“I’m gonna stay out here a bit,” you told him, “I need to stretch my legs.”

He shot a warning look towards Ruby.

“You can trust her, Dean,” you told him, semi-annoyed at his inability to believe that Ruby was a good person.

He nodded slowly, making his way back towards the motel.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” you said to Ruby, “Wanna come?”

She didn’t respond but fell into step next to you when you turned and started moving away.

You walked for a couple of minutes in complete silence, side by side.

“I have a question,” Ruby asked, breaking the silence.

“Shoot,” you told her.

“Would you like to get a drink some time?” she asked boldly, no hesitation.

You let out a chuckle, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“How do you know I’m into girls?” you asked her.

“Please,” she drawled, “I have two eyes and half a brain.”

You laughed, “Okay, I guess I’m not very subtle.”

“About as subtle as that damn colt,” she teased.

You smiled and shook your head, thinking about your answer.

“So…” Ruby pressed.

You thought about it for a minute; thought about how your brothers would react, how they would tell you it’s a bad idea, how you shouldn’t get involved with a demon. And you knew all this anyway, you just couldn’t help falling for Ruby.

You felt helpless whenever you were around her, as if she had full control of your thoughts and emotions.

Of course, if you told her this she’d just respond with her same old line– ‘Uh, demon. Manipulative’s kind of in the job description.’

“Okay,” you admitted, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You caught the smile that crept onto her face that she instantly tried to hide.

“It’ll be fun,” you murmured, to yourself as much as to Ruby.

She shot you a knowing wink, “Damn straight, cherry pie.”

5. Imagine Jared taking you to a Cowboys game.

“Where are we going?” you asked for the fifth time that weekend.

It was your birthday weekend and so far Jared had taken you shopping to buy a present, to the cinema to see a movie, out to a fancy dinner, and to breakfast somewhere out of your home city.

“This one is the biggest surprise,” he confirmed, not giving anything away.

“So… where are we going?” you repeated, looking at him as his eyes focused on the road.

He chose not to respond, knowing that anything he said would get questioned further by your naturally nosey attitude.

“Fine,” you relented, putting your feet up on the dash board of his car and staring out the window and the road.

You drove for another twenty minutes until Jared spoke.

He handed you a blindfold, “Put this on.”

“What? Are you crazy? I’m not wearing this.”

“Just…” he sighed, “Please. This is the last surprise. I have managed to keep this from you for the last few weeks so please, just put the blindfold on.”

You were taken aback by his pleading so you did as you were asked, curious but also not wanting to ruin Jared’s plans.

“Thank you,” he murmured, realising he may have been a little harsh.

“I feel ridiculous,” you told him, lightening the tension in the car, “You better not be planning on murdering me. Or if you are, at least take this blindfold off when you’re done – I don’t want to be found in this.”

He laughed and you smiled, turning to face him (or so you hoped).

“You’re pretty when you laugh,” you told him, grinning and trying to find his face with your fingers.

“You can’t even see me,” he told you, pushing your blindly groping hand away.

“I don’t need to. I just know,” you responded nonchalantly, facing the front again.

Another ten minutes passed before Jared pulled the car to a stop.

“You can’t take it off yet,” he ordered, and you heard the driver’s door shut.

“What-?” you were cut off as your door opened, “Is this one of your kinky games?”

Jared ignored you, lifting you down from the car easily and holding on to your hand as he shut the passenger door and locked the car.

“Now, just trust me,” he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Always.”

He leant down to kiss you chastely before beginning to walk you, holding you close to his side, still holding onto your hand as you brought your other hand up to cling onto his arm.

You could feel the presence of people around you but had no idea where you were or how many people were watching you walking around in a blindfold like an idiot.

Jared stopped you and you could feel him in front of you. You reached your hands out and placed them on his chest.

“Oh,” you said in mock-disappointment, “I thought you were going to be shirtless. I thought that was the surprise.”

He peeled the blindfold from your eyes and held your face in his large palms, leaning down to kiss you as your eyes adjusted to being in the light.

He stepped to the side of you so you could finally see where you had been brought to.

Right in front of you was the Dallas Cowboys football stadium and your jaw went slack in excitable shock.

“No,” you breathed, unable to believe that Jared had actually brought you to a football game.

“Yep,” he confirmed, laughing at your expression.

“You,” you started, leaning up to cup his face, “Are the best boyfriend in the world.”

You pulled him down into a kiss before Jared put his sunglasses on and you walked hand-in-hand into the stadium.

6. Imagine Genevieve throwing you a surprise party.

“Babe, have you seen my black heeled boots?” you shouted down the stairs of your house.

“Top shelf of the closet!” she yelled back.

“What would I do without you?” you muttered to yourself as you reached up to get your shoes.

You made your way downstairs, grabbing your clutch from the edge of the bed and hooking the thin chain over your shoulder.

You stopped in the doorway to the kitchen when you took in what your girlfriend was wearing.

Genevieve stood at the middle counter, her maroon dress swinging gently around her calves as she prepared something on the surfaces.

You crept up behind her, putting your arms around her waist and leaning your head on her shoulder.

“How did you even reach that top shelf to put my boots there?” you teased, “You’re so tiny.”

“Very funny,” she remarked, turning in your arms and leaning up to kiss you.

Gen took you by the hand and led you towards the garden.

“Where are we going?” you questioned inquisitively, laughing at her energy.

“I want to show you something quickly.”

“Babe, we’re going to be late. If I wanted to be late to dinner I’d have asked for some quick birthday sex before we left,” you joked, stopping on your back porch as Gen did.

You heard someone clear their throat and you looked out into the garden as a cacophony of voices hit you.

“Surprise!”

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “How did you-?”

You turned to Gen, a blush rising on your cheeks as shock filled your face.

“So we’re not going to dinner?” you assumed, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“No, we’re not. Is that okay?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

“That’s more than okay,” you assured her, kissing her firmly.

“I love you,” Gen murmured against your lips.

You leaned your forehead against hers, closing your eyes.

“I love you too,” you told her as your party guests began to sing happy birthday.

7. Imagine Sam and Dean rescuing you on a hunt.

You sat on the wet ground, cradling your left arm that was definitely broken at the wrist.

You could feel blood soaking your top as the fabric stuck to you.

“Fuck,” you muttered, looking around you and making out trees, and leaves, and plants.

No sign of getting any help soon.

You tried to get to your feet, momentarily forgetting the discomfort in your wrist and accidentally putting too much pressure on your left arm.

You screamed out in pain, falling back down and holding your arm tight to your chest.

“You fucking idiot,” you said to yourself loudly, frustrated at the situation, “You absolute fucking idiot! Who goes out at night alone, knowing the dangers in this world? You deserved to have this happen to you. You utter freaking moron!”

You heard footsteps approaching you suddenly and turned your head in the direction of them.

“Hello?” you called.

No response.

“Hello? Anyone there?” you said louder, “Oh god, please someone help me.”

Two tall figures appeared through the fog and you sighed in relief, forgetting that these people could be evil; they could not even be people for that matter.

Adrenaline-fuelled panic set in and you scuttled backwards on your bum, using your legs to push yourself away from the shapes approaching you.

“Hey,” one of them called softly, “It’s okay. We’re here to help.”

They got closer and you could tell that they were human, or at least were in human form.

“Christo,” you whispered when they were near enough.

Both of the men frowned down at you.

“Are you a hunter?” the taller one asked.

“Yes… Are you?”

“Yeah. I’m Sam. This is Dean,” he replied, nodding in the direction of the other man.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, sighing at your situation.

“And you are?” Dean asked.

“In a lot of pain,” you responded, not wanting to give away your name to two strangers.

They relented, crouching down to inspect your injuries.

“Careful-” you hissed, as Dean took your wrist in his hands.

“Yeah, that’s broken,” he admitted.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” you mumbled under your breath, pulling your arm back from his hold.

Dean rolled his eyes at your ability to make jokes in pain. It was a hunter thing.

“We should get you outta here,” Dean said, straightening up.

You agreed, moving to get to your feet before you were suddenly lifted in the air.

“What the fuck?” you asked, struggling half-heartedly against Sam’s arms, wincing as you stretched the gash in your side.

“Stop wriggling,” he told you, his arms constricting around you easily, “We’ll move a lot quicker this way.”

You silently agreed, stilling in his arms and letting him carry you out of the woods, walking behind Dean.

“Onwards, trusty steed,” you teased, leaning into Sam’s embrace, secretly grateful to not have to walk.

You felt his chuckle against your head as you let these strangers lead you away.

8. Imagine babysitting the Padackles children.

You’d been living in Texas for a while now, doing the odd jobs around the town to earn your keep whilst searching for a more permanent job.

You were at the park one sunny Saturday afternoon, pinning up flyers to the notice board offering your services out as a nanny, dog walker, cleaner, tutor, carer, general helping hand. That was when you were spotted by Genevieve and Danneel out walking with the kids.

You recognised both of them but, out of politeness, you kept quiet, wanting to respect their privacy and appreciating that they were in public with their children.

You got into conversation with them both, the kids taking an immediate shine to you as they asked questions about your accent and if you liked football and what your favourite animal was.

You answered all of them with a smile and even took time to interact with the twins, their animated faces looking up at you from their stroller.

You never expected to bump into them again or even hear from them so you were extremely surprised when you got a text on Monday evening.

Hi, this is Danneel. We met in the park on Saturday? I hope you don’t mind that I took your number from the posters you were pinning up. I wondered if you’d be available to babysit for Gen and I on Saturday night? We’ve been looking for a sitter for a while and the kids haven’t really met anyone they liked but they all seemed besotted with you! I totally understand if 3 kids and 3 babies would be too much for you so I can try to find someone else to have the younger ones. Thanks, D x

You thought about your answer before typing out your reply, eager to have a job and earn some money but not wanting to come off as too forward.

Hi Danneel, hope you’re doing well. Of course I’d be happy to babysit for y’all. I’ve had lots of experience with babies and I absolutely adore them so I would be more than ok having all the kids if you feel like you can trust me with them all. Just let me know what time I’m needed and send me over an address and I’ll see you Saturday! x

You got the time confirmations and the address sent to you along with a final thank you.

At 6pm on Saturday you made your way over to the location that Danneel had sent you, pressing the buzzer on the gate and parking your car in the large driveway.

Danneel was waiting at the front door, smiling at you and welcoming you in.

“Your house is amazing,” you told her, looking around admirably.

“Thank you,” Danneel replied, “Gen is already here with the kids, why don’t you come on through and meet everyone.”

You walked into the living room and felt instantly intimidated by the four celebrities that surrounded you; Jensen, Jared, and Genevieve greeting you in turn as you stood by Danneel. Before you had a chance to react, you were met by three little people running to you to shout ‘hi’ in their excitable voices.

“Hey guys!” you said, matching their enthusiasm.

Danneel showed you around the house telling you that the twins were already asleep in bed and that she had left feeding instructions in case they woke up. She had made a note of all the contact numbers you might need, leaving you the piece of paper before Gen took over and explained what to do with her kids for bed time and, in Odette’s case, a bottle feed.

Gen handed Odette over to you and you held her on your hip, shushing and talking to her in a soothing voice as the three other kids stood by your legs to wave goodbye to their parents.

You closed the door behind them, locking it on precaution and walking further into the house as Tom, JJ, and Shep all dispersed to continue playing.

“Okay,” you muttered to the little girl fiddling with your hair in her little hands, “We totally got this.”

9. Imagine coming home to a cooked meal from Jared.

“Honey, I’m home!” you sang as you entered the front door to your house.

You dropped your keys down onto the table in the hallway, leaving your shoes against the wall and hanging your bag on the hook.

You made your way through the house, following the delicious smell that was wafting from the kitchen.

“Mmm, something smells good,” you remarked.

You turned into the kitchen, stopping when you saw your husband standing with his back to you, an apron tied around his waist.

You looked at the small table made up with a cloth, two chairs, candles, and a vase of flowers in the centre.

“What’s all this for?” you laughed softly.

Jared turned around, licking his lips, a wooden spoon in his hand.

“Come here,” he beckoned to you.

You walked over to him, stopping in front of him and looking up at him.

“Try this,” he said, offering you the spoon to test.

You moaned in satisfaction, closing your eyes as the flavours burst out across your tongue.

“That good?” Jared teased.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” you admitted, opening your eyes when you realised what you’d just said.

You could see Jared’s mouth constrict against a laugh before he allowed himself to guffaw.

“You heard me,” you said, styling out your blunder.

“Note taken,” Jared murmured, leaning his head to yours, his breath fanning over your face.

You closed the gap between your faces, kissing him softly.

“Let’s eat,” you told him, turning away and seating yourself at the table.

Jared laughed, “Make yourself comfy, madam,” he teased.

“Oui oui, monsieur,” you winked at him, prepared to enjoy this meal and whatever came after it.

10. Imagine Misha picking you up from University.

You sat in class, watching the clock hands moving ever so slowly, waiting until 4pm so you could be done with your last class and go home for winter break.

Finally, the time came and you ignored your teacher’s last comments, packing away your things and zipping up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder.

You tucked your chair in and made your way out of the classroom, murmuring goodbye to some of your classmates who you hadn’t quite made friends with but you still felt the need to wish them happy holidays.

As you walked out of your building you noticed girls huddled in little groups, pointing and hushing with each other. You walked past them sceptically, stopping when you saw what all the commotion was about.

Leaning against the wall of a building, with his arms crossed and one leg propped up on the wall, was Misha.

Your face lit up and you ran towards him, throwing your arms around his neck as he stood properly to hug you.

“Well this is a nice welcome,” he laughed.

“What are you doing here?” you asked confusedly, stepping out of the embrace.

Girls walking past you all whispered to each other, recognising Misha and scuttling away nervously. You even spotted a few phones poised in what people thought was a casual attempt at getting photographic evidence of Misha Collins on their campus.

“Thought I’d pick up my favourite little sister and travel home with her for Christmas.”

“You’re coming home for Christmas?”

“No, I was just going to dump you on the doorstep of the house and steal your car to drive back to Vancouver in,” he said sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes at his classic humour.

“Are you feeling fit and stealthy, old man?” you teased him.

Misha pushed you away jokingly.

“I’ve got a lot of boxes to load into my car,” you clarified.

“I’ve been working out,” he said, throwing his arm around your shoulder and leading you away from the gathering crowds.

“Have you now?” you laughed, “Well, my apartment is in the opposite direction to the one we’re walking in but if you’re feeling spritely we can take the long way around.”

“Okay, I haven’t been working out that much,” he said, letting go of you so that you could lead him the right way to your apartment.

“I can do a one-handed handstand though,” he told you, putting his hands in his pockets as you walked side by side.

“I saw your photo,” you admitted, looping your arm through his, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, squirt,” he echoed, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

11. Imagine moving in with Jensen and Jared in Vancouver.

The decision to move in with Jensen and Jared came after they found out that you’d been living in your trailer over breaks and days off.

You explained to them that you couldn’t afford a place of your own and, even if you could, you had no idea how long you were going to last on the show. You didn’t want to buy an apartment only to get killed off and then be tied down with property in Vancouver stopping you from applying for jobs elsewhere.

They both came to the decision that you could move in with them, having only just bought a three-bed apartment to share downtown.

You reluctantly agreed, grateful to not have to live in your trailer anymore and being more than willing to pay your share of rent.

You moved what little belongings you had with you into the apartment the following week.

After having lived with them for three months now, you were becoming accustomed to life with Jensen and Jared. At first things felt a little awkward, you moving in with your co-workers, but you soon adjusted and you were all more than comfortable around each other. Perhaps a little too comfortable.

You were in the kitchen making dinner for all of you, you had become the apartment chef, when Jensen walked through in his boxers.

“Dude!” you complained, raising your eyebrows at him incredulously as he reached for a beer out of the fridge, gesturing to his attire.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly, “Most girls your age would kill to see me like this!”

“Most girls my age see you as less of a ‘dad’ and more of a ‘daddy’,” you explained, turning back to the stove.

“Gross,” he remarked, leaving the kitchen.

“You’re the one walking round in your underwear!” you called after him.

The next day you were sat on the couch going over your lines when you noticed something sticking out from behind the couch cushion. You pulled out a pair of socks and shook your head, closing your script and walking down the hallway, standing in between the doors of Jensen and Jared’s opposite bedrooms.

“Okay, fess up,” you ordered, holding one sock in each hand and through each bedroom door so the boys could both see one, “Whose socks are these?”

Neither of them responded so you balled them up and chucked one at each of them, hitting Jensen in the head and Jared in the chest.

“We need some ground rules around here,” you grumbled, striding back into the living room.

A week later you came home from set later than the boys, only to find them both sat in their underwear on the couch, playing video games.

“Okay, that’s it,” you murmured under your breath, walking to your bedroom and depositing your things.

You got undressed and put your comfiest bra and panties on, going back out into the kitchen.

“I’m grabbing a beer, anyone want one?” you asked over your shoulder, seeing both Jensen and Jared raising a hand.

You took three beers from the fridge and handed them over to the boys from behind the couch, walking around to lay on the adjacent one.

“Dude!” Jensen parroted, finally noticing that you were in your underwear.

“God, put some clothes on!” Jared protested, closing his eyes and turning his head away from you.

“Keep your panties on,” you told them, “Please, because that is the only thing keeping me from seeing little Ackles and little Padalecki.”

“This isn’t weird for you?” Jensen asked, deliberately avoiding you with his gaze.

“It became ‘unweird’ when I got fed up of dealing with both your crap. We either all wear clothes around the house or we drop this double standard and grow up.”

“Shit, okay,” Jensen yielded, his hands up in surrender.

Jared took a long sip of his beer, placing it on a coaster on the table and finally looking you in the eyes, nodding.

“Deal,” you all said at once, settling into your respective couches.

12. Imagine Dean taking you for a test drive in Baby.

“Hard right! Hard on!” Dean shouted at you from the passenger seat.

You pulled the car to a stop, turning in your seat to look at him.

“If you want me to be able to drive this car properly, you have got to stop saying things like ‘hard on’,” you told him.

“I don’t think you’re ready for this,” Dean tried to say, his right hand out the window of the car holding on to the roof.

“Don’t you dare flake out on me now, Winchester,” you warned him, “I’m a good driver, I promise. I’m just not used to the left-hand drive thing.”

He nodded minutely.

“One more chance. You have one more chance to stay in the right hand lane or we’re swapping over.”

“Alright, alright. Keep your hair on,” you murmured.

You put the car into first gear and started off smoothly, changing to second and third when necessary.

“It’s not like there’s anyone on this road anyway,” you muttered under your breath.

“That’s beside the point,” Dean reprimanded you, “You asked me to teach you how to drive an old, classic car, so you have to listen to my instructions.”

You set your jaw, never one to like being patronised.

The road opened up in front of you and you were moving comfortably in fifth gear.

You put your foot down on the accelerator, earning you a warning glance from Dean.

“It’s fine,” you told him, “Live a little, Winchester.”

The car got faster as you reached the top of the hill, you took your foot off of the accelerator and moved the gear stick into neutral, letting the car cruise downhill with your foot precautiously hovering over the brake.

You reached the bottom of the hill and prepared to hit the ascent, going into first gear and revving up the hill.

“Be careful with her!” Dean growled at you.

You made it to the top of the slope and went back to driving normally, leaving your formula one dreams behind you and carrying on sensibly.

“You told me you didn’t know how to drive stick,” Dean said, hiding his awe but narrowing his eyes at you once you’d settled back into a steady pace.

“I may have told a teensy-weensy lie,” you cringed, “I kinda just wanted to see how she ran. She’s got a nice engine”

“She sure has,” Dean bristled with pride.

“Let’s get this Baby home,” you murmured, setting off easily in the direction of the bunker.

Dean’s eyes never left you as he appreciated your comfort behind the wheel.

13. Imagine stargazing with Sam.

The sky overhead was a canvas of cosmic beauty; the bright white stars stood out against the velvety black sky.

This was the perks of working a case in the countryside, you figured.

You and Sam lay on a picnic blanket, pillows under your heads, and your hands so close you could feel the heat radiating off his palms.

“You see that one,” Sam said, breaking the silence and pointing directly above your field of vision, “That’s the Big Dipper. You see how the stars on the right cluster to make a quadrangle and then the ones on the left branch out of it?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “It kinda looks like a pan.”

“Exactly!” Sam exclaimed enthusiastically.

You looked up, admiring the stars and wishing you knew how to map them as well as Sam could.

“What’s that one?” you asked, tracing its shape with your finger, “It looks like a headless man running.”

Sam chuckled softly at your analogy.

“That’s Hercules,” he informed you, “You see that wisp of smoke in the middle?”

He waited for you to locate it and nod before continuing.

“That’s the Hercules Nebula.”

“There’s another one,” you spotted, pointing out another cotton-ball like cluster.

“That one’s the Andromeda Galaxy. It’s a part of the Andromeda constellation but I’m not as familiar with the shape of that one,” Sam confessed softly.

You turned your head to the side, watching him look up at the sky, his hair billowing out over his pillow and his eyes wide with wonder.

You loved seeing him like this; so free, so content, so happy.

You focused your attention back to the stars above you.

“I can’t believe we can see all of this without a telescope,” you remarked in awe.

“A galaxy two and a half million light-years away,” Sam confirmed, “All with your unaided eyes.”

“Wow,” you breathed.

Sam sighed his agreement.

“All the shit we see on a day to day basis and still, at the end of the day, the stars will come out and always look this beautiful,” you thought aloud.

Your hand moved closer to Sam’s in the middle of the blanket until your little fingers brushed together and he linked his pinkie with yours.

“And out of all the centuries, all the worlds, all the galaxies... I get to share all of this with you,” he murmured, squeezing your finger reassuringly.

“Us against the world,” you whispered, as you both continued to stare into the night sky.

14. Imagine clothes shopping with Ruby.

“I’m not coming out,” you protested through the fitting room.

“Babe,” she laughed, “I’m sure it looks great!”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, the mini skirt showing way too much leg than you were comfortable with and the top exposing your waist.

“Nuh-uh,” you objected, pulling at the clothes that Ruby had picked out for you.

“Either you come out or I come in,” she warned.

“Fine,” you grumbled, pulling back the door slightly and poking your head out.

“Out,” she ordered, beckoning you with a finger.

You stepped out tentatively, earning a low whistle from Ruby.

You fought the urge to cover yourself with your arms, putting your hands on your hips in a stubborn defiance.

“I’m not wearing this,” you told her plainly.

Ruby ignored your complaints, “Here, put this on.”

She chucked you a chunky sweater and you caught it one handed.

“That’s more like it,” you sighed, going into the cubicle to get changed.

“With the skirt!” Ruby called through the door.

“I hate you,” you muttered back.

Ruby just chuckled, finding way too much humour in your discomfort.

You took the top off, not that you could even be sure it was a top – the thing looked like it would fit a two-year-old, pulling the sweater over your head and exhaling with the relief of feeling more like yourself.

You walked back out, twirling for Ruby and placing one hand on your hip, popping it to the side in a mock-catwalk.

“Yes, girl! Work it,” she laughed, “This is a look.”

“I’m not so sure about the skirt,” you confessed, “I feel naked from the waist down.”

“That’s exactly why I like it,” she said, winking at you.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, picking up a top from the floor and throwing it at her in a weak frustration.

“Okay, we’re done here,” Ruby announced.

“I’m not buying this,” you said, gesturing to the skirt.

“No. You’re not,” she stated, “I am.”

You relented, walking back into the fitting room and getting out of the clothes.

“Wait!” Ruby called, her hand appearing over the top of the door, “Try this.”

You looked at the thin lacy material she was holding, a tiny, delicate bodysuit hanging off of the hanger.

“In your fucking dreams!” you exclaimed, fighting the laughter that came automatically and putting your own clothes back on.

“You're damn right,” she mumbled, taking the lingerie back and undoubtedly adding it to her checkout pile.

15. Imagine Dean comforting you after a nightmare.

You woke in a panic, your hair sticking to your neck with sweat and your heart racing.

You sat up in the queen bed, looking over to where Sam lay in the other bed and Dean was sprawled on the couch.

Dean lifted his head, catching your movement.

“You okay?” he asked, making out your shadow in the dark.

“Yeah,” you breathed, not trusting your voice enough to say anything else.

“Wanna talk?”

You didn’t answer, instead taking a deep breath to try to compose yourself.

Dean lay back down on the couch, turning over and pulling his blanket over himself.

You settled down into the mattress, closing your eyes to try and go back to sleep. Your brain had other ideas, however, filling your thoughts with the nightmare you had just had.

You shifted in the bed, trying not to make too much movement and disturb the others.

“Dean,” you finally hissed, “Dean, are you still awake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Please,” was all you could manage to say, your voice cracking on the single syllable.

Dean was up in an instant, crossing the room and crouching by your bed, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, you’re safe. I promise,” he soothed, stroking your hair off your face and wiping the tears from your cheek.

He walked around the bed, climbing in the other side and putting his arm carefully around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“This okay?” he asked, his voice against your neck.

You nodded softly, sighing and letting your breathing even out.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, you hear me? I won’t let anything get you,” he assured you.

You knew he was right; you knew he’d rather sacrifice himself than let anything bad happen to you.

But that’s what also worried you.

“I got you,” Dead murmured, kissing the top of your spine and nestling into the bed.

“We got each other,” you finished automatically, linking your fingers over his as his arm tightened around you, letting the warm comfort of Dean send you to sleep.

16. Imagine Danneel teaching you to cheerlead.

“This is ridiculous,” you groaned, bending over to lean your palms on your knees, taking deep, grounding breaths.

“Come on, you nearly had it!” Danneel exclaimed.

“You’re too preppy,” you complained, collecting your pompoms from where you’d dropped them on the floor.

“Just take each count of eight one-by-one,” she encouraged.

You took one last deep breath before standing up straight.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you said determinedly.

Danneel moved to her phone and pressed play on the music, the tune ringing out on the Bluetooth speakers.

“A 5, 6, 7, 8,” Danneel counted you in, “And: skip skip, skip skip.”

You followed the instructions, counting in your head; skipping twice to the right and then the left, rolling your arms around twice in accompaniment.

“Single, single,” she called the next instruction out.

You skipped once to the right, throwing your left arm in the air and tilting your head right slightly. Then you skipped once once to the left, putting your right arm in the air and tilting your head left.

“Up and down,” Dannel reminded you as you kicked your right foot out in front of you, stepping forward into a lunge and lifting both pompom clad arms in the air.

“Spin, 2, 3, 4,” she called.

You span 360°, kicked your right leg to the side and put your right arm in the air before landing on your right leg and turning to face the right with your arms by your side.

“Contract, contract,” Danneel prompted you, as you rolled your body, your arms also rolling slightly with the movement.

You remembered to punch your arms out in front of you for the second contract, stepping back on your right foot so your feet were together and then back on the left so that your right foot was in front again.

“Good!” Danneel shouted proudly.

Your right hand trailed the pompom along your left arm and around your head, the left pompom getting held you your ear as you moved to face the other way and thrust your right hand in front of you.

“Jump, jump, jump, out.”

You jumped three times, landing with your legs open the fourth time, your arms both going up the first time, just the right, just the left, and both of them in to your chest on the final landing.

You bent your right knee in and then out, dropping your right arm and then bringing it back to your chest and doing the same with the left knee and arm as Danneel yelled, “In, out, in, out.”

You thrust your hips forward, Danneel’s voice in your head saying to ‘add some bounce’ into this move.

“And pivot,” she instructed.

You’d already dropped your hands as you bent at the waist, rotating your upper body in a half circle, your heels lifting and dropping.

“7 and 8,” you counted under your breath as you lifted and dropped your heels three times, bouncing your whole body.

“Woo! Your hair moved; that’s bonus points,” Danneel shouted.

You got through the rest of the routine; swaying and popping your hips, spinning your pompoms, raising your arms, and keeping up a cheery attitude throughout. Maintaining your smile proved to be the hardest part of all.

The entire routine only lasted about thirty-five seconds but, by the time you were done, your breath was coming out in short, sharp puffs.

“Yes!” Danneel exclaimed loudly, clapping her hands together and then lifting her arms above her head, “You did it!”

She pulled you into a hug and you panted in her arms, squeezing her tight in your euphoria.

“I can’t believe it,” you confessed, pulling back to see Danneel’s proud smile still in place.

“Next step: costume,” she sang, pulling a cheerleader’s mini skirt and crop top from her bag.

The pink and white material shimmered in her hands and you groaned when you saw the ribbons, white socks, white sneakers, and glitter that she also had in her bag.

“Oh, god,” you groaned, throwing your head back.

“A promise is a promise,” she insisted, passing you the costume and folding her arms.

You laughed, embarrassed, turning over the outfit in your hands.

“Go big or go home,” you muttered, admitting defeat and changing into the uniform.

17. Imagine Genevieve taking you horse riding.

“Okay,” Genevieve started, coming over to you with two riding hats in her hand, “You’re riding Doodles and I’m on Caspian. They’re both really good horses.”

You nodded, taking the hat she handed you and putting it on.

“Do you know the way we’re going?” you asked her.

“Sweetie, I’ve been riding this trail since I was twelve, I could navigate it with my eyes closed.”

“Okay, show off,” you murmured, nudging her with your shoulder.

You turned to the sound of hooves, seeing two gorgeous horses being led towards you. As they got closer you noticed their extreme height and you raised an eyebrow at Gen.

“Can you even get up that high?” you teased.

“Oh, you just watch me,” she said confidently.

She strode over to the large brown horse, taking the reins from the stable hand and pulling the stirrups down.

In one smooth motion Gen put both the reins in her left hand, sliding her left foot into the stirrup, bouncing three times and then jumping, swinging her right leg over the saddle and seating herself.

“Okay, pretty impressive,” you remarked, walking over to your horse.

You looked up into his dark eyes and ran a hand down his chestnut face, he lowered his head so that you could scratch between his ears and you chuckled softly.

“Hey, handsome,” you muttered, “Ready to ride?”

You took the reins in one hand like Gen had, stretching to put your foot in the stirrup and failing miserably.

You could hear her laughing and you shot her a look, opting instead to take up the offer of a leg up from the stable hand.

“I guess I’m a little out of practice, Lil Miss Yoga,” you said to her over your shoulder, placing your hands on the saddle, one on the pommel and the other on the cantle, lifting your left leg for the guy to hold on to.

On the count of three you jumped, the guy pushing your left leg up as you swung your right leg over the horse. You sat down softly and put both feet into the stirrups.

The stable hand checked your stirrups and saddles, making sure you and the horses were comfortable before sending you out.

“Enjoy your ride, y’all,” he called, as Gen set off in the direction of the trail and you settled into a steady walk behind her.

Five minutes in to the peaceful ride, Gen turned to you.

“How you doing?” she asked.

“Pretty good,” you admitted, running a hand down the neck of Doodles, “He was a little tense at first but I think he’s relaxing now.”

“Get up here,” Gen motioned to you, turning to face the front again.

You clicked Doodles on until he and Caspian were walking side by side.

“They’re both OTTBs,” Gen stated intelligently, “’Off-track-thoroughbreds’. They feel like they’re in competition with the horse in front if they’re not in the lead. It helps to have them walking at the same pace so they know this isn’t a race.”

You nodded in understanding, scratching Doodles’ withers underneath you.

“This place is beautiful,” you murmured in awe.

“Yeah, welcome to Idaho,” Gen said, smiling across at you.

Caspian snorted softly and you laughed.

“I guess that was him saying ‘welcome’,” Gen chuckled.

“Thanks, buddy,” you told the horse.

“Ready to pick up the pace?” Gen asked you, shortening her reins and preparing to go faster.

“Sure,” you replied, copying her movements.

“Okay. Let’s go,” she ordered as you both asked for trot and moved deeper into the trail.

18. Imagine JJ asking to have a sleepover with you and Jensen.

You had just finished dinner with Jensen and his four-year-old daughter, you stood to collect the plates from the table. Jensen, as always, telling you that you didn’t need to help tidy away and you insisting that it was the least you could do after he had cooked dinner.

You walked into the kitchen with the plates, scraping any food waste into the compost bin and placing the dirty dishes and silverware in the dishwasher.

You could hear Jensen and JJ talking in hushed voices and you smiled when you heard them laughing together.

You decided to give them a little longer alone, taking a cloth and some antibacterial spray and wiping down the surfaces.

You put the cleaning stuff away and went through to the dining room, sitting back in your chair and smiling at a giggling JJ, her hands clasped over her mouth.

“What’re you up to, monkey?” you whispered, leaning closer to her and bopping her on the nose with your index finger.

She shook her head, not giving the game away, and you sat upright in your seat.

“Who wants dessert?” you asked, your eyes wide with overexcitement.

“JJ wants to ask you something first,” Jensen said, smiling at you kindly.

“Oh really?” you said, smiling back before looking at JJ again.

“Nuh-uh!” she protested, “Daddy does.”

“I’m not asking, Justice Jay,” he said, laughing as she ran over to his chair at the table.

He lifted her up onto his lap and whispered something in her ear that you didn’t catch.

“Y’all are freaking me out,” you said, your eyes flitting between Jensen’s and JJ’s.

“Will you have a sleepover?” JJ asked, so quietly that you were sure you’d misheard her.

You frowned in confusion.

“I don’t think she heard you, babygirl,” Jensen encouraged his daughter.

“Will you please have a sleepover with us?” she repeated, louder this time.

You gave a puzzled look towards Jensen and he nodded his approval to you. You looked at JJ’s hopeful little face and knew that you wouldn’t be able to say no even if you tried.

“Of course, princess!” you said sweetly, “I’d love to have a sleepover with you.”

“And daddy, too,” she emphasised knowingly; too knowingly for a kid her age.

“Only if we can paint his nails,” you whispered teasingly, pretending that Jensen couldn’t hear you.

“And do make up!” JJ exclaimed, running off of her dad’s lap to grab your hand and pull you up from the table.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” you assured her, getting up from the table and placing a kiss to Jensen’s cheek as you left the room to prepare your sleepover.

19. Imagine Misha coming into your work.

You stood by the coffee machine, making three flat whites since you were the only person in the store who knew how to.

It was a busy day in the shop and you were already tired after half of your eight-hour shift.

You took each coffee over to the correct customer tables, smiling politely and clearing away a few empty mugs and plates on your way back to the counter.

"Need you on tills, please," your manager said to you as she passed you on the floor.

"Sure," you muttered, just wanting the day to end.

You got to the till and asked the next customer for their order, looking up at their face but not registering anything.

"I'll have an Americano please," a familiar voice said.

"Is that all?" you asked, ringing up the coffee.

"What do you recommend?" the man asked you and that's when you finally realised why you recognised the voice.

Misha Collins stood the other side of the counter from you, ordering his coffee from you, and asking you what he should order.

“Sweet or savoury?” you questioned.

“Hmm,” he thought for a moment, “Sweet I think.”

"Okay, well the brownies are really good, and a customer favourite," you said honestly, "But I always prefer a flapjack."

"I'll take one of each, then," he said, getting his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

You smiled, "Eat in or to go?"

"Eat in, please."

You plated up the brownie and the flapjack, surprised at how casually you were handling this situation. You and everyone else in the café.

You told Misha his total and he handed over way more money than necessary.

You looked at what change he was owed and started counting it out when he interrupted you.

"Don't worry about that," he winked, "Add it to your tip jar."

"Are you sure?" you asked incredulously, a good wad of cash in your hand.

“Absolutely,” he confirmed.

“Thank you. So much. I’ll bring your drink over as soon as its ready.”

You handed over his receipt with a smile.

No one was behind him so you watched to see where he sat and set about making his coffee. You put it on a tray with a small jug of milk and some sugar before making your way over to his table.

“One Americano,” you announced, placing it down in front of him along with the extras, “Anything else I can get you?”

You noticed him cover up the paper he was reading from, probably an episode script, before he smiled up at you.

“No, thank you,” he said, “These are delicious, by the way,” he added, motioning to the half-eaten treats in front of him.

“I’ll be sure to pass on your review,” you joked.

Your focus never left his table as your shift went on and on. He sat, and he read, and he ordered more coffees (which you didn’t charge him for seeing as he had given you more than three times the right amount of money).

You never let on that you knew who he was, respecting his privacy and also not quite fully believing the situation anyway.

When your shift was over you went to change out of your apron, hanging it up in the back room and grabbing your bag.

“See ya,” you called to your manager on the way out the door.

You glanced at Misha’s table and noticed that he’d already left, sighing at the fact that you’d missed saying goodbye to him. Or maybe he was never really there.

You stepped outside the shop, the crisp air hitting you in the face as well as the sight of Misha standing against the side of the building.

You smiled goodbye to him as you headed home but he pushed off from the wall, walking over to you and smiling.

“I’m really sorry if this is weird for you, but I’m new to this area. I’m only visiting but I have absolutely no idea what to do or where to visit,” he rambled.

“Well, lucky for you, my shift just ended,” you told him, “Need a tour guide?”

“That would be great, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m Misha, by the way.”

“I know,” you laughed softly, “I didn’t want to say anything; make it weird.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, “For being cool and for showing me around.”

“Of course,” you smiled, “Next stop: somewhere totally uninteresting and non-picturesque.”

20. Imagine watching Supernatural with Genevieve and Danneel.

“Have you got the ice cream?” you called through to the living room from the kitchen.

“Do you even know me?” Danneel shouted back.

You walked into the living room to see her sitting cross-legged on the couch, a tub of ice cream in her lap and three spoons in her hand.

She held one out to you and you took it as you sat next to her, curling your legs up under yourself.

“Gen, get your butt in here!” you shouted.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Gen replied, “I just got off the phone with Jared, the kids are all asleep and everything is okay.”

“Of course it is,” Danneel said simply, “We have the night off, you can relax now,” she added, passing her a spoon.

Gen took it from her as she flung herself down on the couch next to you and you all shifted closer, pulling one blanket over all three of your legs.

“I’m ready,” you insisted, as Danneel handed you the ice cream, pressing play on the remote.

The opening sequence started up and you removed the lid from the tub, taking the first spoonful of ice cream.

“Oh my God,” you breathed as a familiar face appeared on screen, “Why is JDM naked?”

You were, of course, referencing Jeff’s lack of facial hair, and both Genevieve and Danneel laughed softly.

You watched the opening sequence play out in silence, not being surprised when it got to Mary’s death scene since you already knew that was where things were going.

The title sequence flashed up noiselessly and you chuckled.

“What?” Danneel asked, turning to look at you.

“That was slightly less obnoxious than some of the title sequences they’ve had,” you explained.

Danneel and Gen huffed a laugh, leaning over you at the same time to get some ice cream.

You burst out laughing when the next recognisable face popped up – Jared.

“Stop,” Gen chastised jokingly, giggling herself.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “He looks… handsome.”

It was Danneel’s turn to chuckle then taking a big spoonful of ice cream.

“He looks like a twelve-year-old,” she said plainly.

All three of you laughed at that, continuing to watch the show.

The next two scenes played out as you all sat contently, eating your ice cream and making the odd sound effect here and there.

“I’d recognise that chiselled jawline anywhere,” you exclaimed, noticing the shadowy outline of Jensen.

Sam/Jared grabbed Dean/Jensen and they began a choreographed struggle.

“Damn, those fight moves,” you murmured sarcastically.

“The budget was low for the pilot,” Gen joked.

“And neither of them knew what they were doing,” Danneel added, in all seriousness.

You nudged Danneel in the ribs with your elbow as Jensen’s face came into the shot.

“I’d tap that,” Danneel muttered.

“Ew!” you complained, shaking your head to erase the thought.

You finished up the pilot a load more remarks and a whole tub of ice cream later, pausing before the next episode started.

“So, what did you think?” Danneel asked you.

“I think that you and Gen married people who are like cheese,” they both frowned at you confusedly, “They get better with age,” you explained.

All three of you were laughing as the next episode began.

21. Imagine surprising Jared on stage at a convention.

You’d been working on a movie up in LA for the last three months and you hadn’t seen Jared since your last day on set, the last night you spent with him in Vancouver.

You’d started seeing each other almost as soon as you began filming on Supernatural, quickly striking up a relationship that neither of you knew where was headed.

Trailer sex turned into sleepovers, sleepovers into weekend stays, and weekend stays into actual dates.

The night you left for LA, Jared was upset, he pleaded you to stay but you told him you were never going to be the girl who gave up her career for a guy. He wasn’t mad and he eventually let you go, you Skyped him often and you still felt a connection to him.

You decided to surprise him seeing as he was doing a convention in Vegas; driving up after filming on Friday night, catching a couple hours of sleep at a nearby hotel, and making it in time for his Saturday morning panel.

You found Rob and Rich backstage, both of them shocked to see you.

“What are you doing here, California?” Rob exclaimed teasingly, pulling you into a hug.

“I came to surprise Jared,” you told them, blushing slightly as you stepped back.

“Well get up there!” Rich encouraged.

“What? No! I was just going to greet him when he came off!”

“The fans will love it!” Rob pressed.

“Look at me! I’ve driven five hours through the night and only got a two-hour power nap in the hotel! I’ve got my glasses on and I’m wearing jeans and a sweater. I’m pretty sure I’ve still got yesterday’s filming makeup on and I haven’t showered for a disgustingly long time. There’s no way I can go out like this.”

As you finished your rant, Rob handed you a microphone. You looked at him fearfully.

“You have to do this,” he pleaded, “It will make Jared’s day.”

You couldn’t deny him that.

“Okay, but let me pick the right moment,” you requested.

Rob nodded.

“What’s the funniest thing that’s happened on set this season?” the fan at the microphone asked, Jared choking slightly on the sip of water he just took.

You planned your entrance based on this question. If Jared was going to say what you thought he was going to say, then this would be the perfect opportunity for you to make your surprise appearance.

You had entered the panel through the green room entrance, using your status and relations to get through the convention despite not being a scheduled guest.

Jared laughed to himself as he put the cap back on his bottle, placing it on the table beside his stool and adjusting himself to sit comfortably. Of course, in true Jared fashion, straddling the chair with his arms resting on the back of it that faced the audience.

“So, y’all know that we had a new recurring cast member join us this season,” he paused, waiting for the eruption of cheers to die down.

You nodded in the direction of Rob and climbed up onto the stage from behind.

“You did?” you asked into the microphone.

The audience went crazy, clapping and whooping as you made it further into the middle of the stage.

Jared’s face was a picture; he’d turned in his chair to the sound of your voice, his mouth opened in a small circle with the word ‘what’ still on his tongue.

It was as if he’d frozen, he was still in his chair as you reached him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

He got up then, propping his microphone on the chair and pulling you into a proper hug, leaning to whisper in your ear.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “What even-?”

He couldn’t finish his sentence so you just whispered back, “Surprise!”

You pulled away from the hug, suddenly remembering the audience in front of you.

“Go on then, Jared. Tell everyone what the funniest moment on set was this season.” You teased for the benefit of the audience.

He groaned audibly, picking up his microphone and offering you the chair. You took it, considering the lack of sleep you’d had.