#sipernatural

He quickly took the invitation, shedding his t-shirt and pajama pants before sliding in next to you. He reveled in the feel of the soft sheets and the unexpected warmth that covered the bed. Suddenly, Dean moaned. A sultry, sated sound coming from deep within his chest. You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Feels good,” he defended with a shrug, grinning at you. He wiggled closer to you under the blankets until your bodies were touching. He placed a hand on our hip, pulling you closer to him as he slid his arm down for you to rest your head on. He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

When you woke up the next morning, Dean was sprawled on top of you. Your legs were tangled, he had one arm around your waist, and his head was buried between your neck and shoulder as he snored lightly. You hadn’t felt it in your sleep, but the weight of him, and your inability to move under him made you a little uncomfortable. Reaching your hands up to nudge his shoulders, you whispered, “Dean. Dean, move over.”

He stirred, rolling off you and pulling you to him, the curve of your body fitting comfortably to his. He was asleep and snoring again in no time.

Dean had slept in your bed for a week straight after that. One morning, you were up and making breakfast with Sam in the kitchen. “Is he still asleep?” Sam asked, filling a plate with eggs and fruit.

“It’s that damned blanket. He’s taken my bed hostage for the past week.” You sighed.  “I can’t say I blame him though.” You took another sip from your mug before you stood and said, “I’m gonna go make sure he’s still breathing.”

Further inspection found Dean, still snoring in your bed under the cozy blankets. Climbing onto the bed and resting on your knees, you rubbed his shoulder to wake him gently. He jerked a little, a string of drool connecting from his arm to his mouth. You tried to stifle your laughter. “Mornin’,” he smiled up at you.

“You’ve got a little something there,” you pointed to his arm, “and there,” you finished, gesturing to his mouth. He wiped the drool away sheepishly. You hummed thoughtfully. “You know, I would never have taken you for a fuzzy blanket kind of person.”

“It heats up!” he stated, still amazed.

You laughed at him, reminded of when he would go on and on about his memory foam mattress that ‘remembered him’. “Tell you what.”

He hummed, stretching out. “If you promise to let me have my bed back, I’ll buy you one of these blankets for Christmas.” His eyes lit up and a moment later he was getting out of the bed.  “Sam and I made breakfast,” you offered, getting up to return to the kitchen.

“Is there bacon?”

“Of course, there’s bacon, who do you think I am?” you said, walking down the hallway.

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