The first time it happened, Dean was too tired to notice.
He had just finished washing the ghoul bits out of his hair and trudged out of the bathroom, falling face first onto the queen size bed of their motel room, the mattress springs protesting under him.
The mostly-asleep angel beside him gave an aborted hum and rolled over to throw an arm over him. Dean didn’t even have enough functioning brain power to think about how cute he was. He just shuffled in closer, nuzzling into the angel’s chest, before falling asleep.
The second time it happened, Dean was more confused than anything.
A few hunts and a few cheap motels later, he blinked his eyes open against the morning sunlight and frowned. Not only because he did not want to be conscious yet, but because he could’ve sworn that he had fallen asleep on the right side of the bed. His side of the bed.
And yet here he was, staring at the wood paneling (who even used that anymore?) of the motel room’s inner wall, an angel molded against his back, soft breath puffing against his neck.
He contemplating the wall for a whole 46 seconds before slipping back to sleep. When he woke up to Cas’s lips on his neck, he forgot to ask about it.
There was a time when the motels were a second home for Dean, next to only the Impala. And maybe Bobby’s place. But now that they had the bunker, they only used motels if they have to, the warmth and familiarity of their own bed much more preferable. It remembers him. It remembers them.
Dean would never admit it to anyone but his angel, but he loved sharing a bed with Cas. It was warm, it was intimate, it was safe. It like nothing he had ever had before. It was just…more.
He hadn’t gone one night without Cas lying next to him since he had finally reciprocated those three words.
But now he was starting to get a little annoyed. This whole swapping-sides phenomenon didn’t happen at home, and it didn’t happen every time they stayed at a motel. But it happened often enough to where he was starting to get fed up.
Every night, he slept on the right side of the bed. That was just his side. That’s why the nightstand on the right had his headphones, Baby’s keys, a pair of novelty socks in case his feet got cold, and some snacks he had stashed away.
That was his side.
Which was why he stopped as soon as he locked the door and turned to face the bed in their Nashville motel room.
areudirty
theartofmadeline
