Warning: ANGST! Avast, ye have been warned! Turn back if angst is not what ye seek! Here there be heartbreak! Dean watched as you shifted on the pillow beside him and rolled toward his weight and warmth. His hand gently made its way under your t-shirt and ran up the silky soft curve of your spine, finding the edge of your shoulder blade before trailing back down and resting just above your waistband. You sighed sleepily and smiled, your eyes blinking open to reveal the rich hues of your irises, glowing in the morning light. "Good morning," you whispered.
Dean's mouth curved in a boyish, content smile. "Good morning, Mrs. Winchester," he said, his deep voice resonant in his chest.
You moved even closer to him, pressing your body up against his and tucking yourself under his chin. You pressed a kiss to the front of his throat and electricity lit up his skin. "Are you going to apologize?" you asked teasingly.
"And what exactly am I supposed to apologize for?" he asked, wrapping his arms around you and rolling to his back, pulling you on top of him.
You laughed lightly and leaned up to look into his green eyes. His hands gripped the swell of your hips. "For waking me up," you said.
His eyebrows lifted. "I'll make it up to you," he said, his hand finding its way under your shirt again.
You smiled broadly. "You will?"
"Of course I will," he said, his hand combing into your sleep-tousled hair, pulling your lips down to his. He captured you in a slow, heated kiss.
You pulled back only slightly. Your eyes flickered between his. But suddenly your expression turned sad. His brow furrowed in an unspoken question. "I miss moments like this more than anything," you said.
His confusion increased, tightened his features. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Dean—" your hand landed flat in the center of his chest. "—we both know I'm still gone."
"Hey!"
Suddenly, Dean was awake, gasping for air in the front passenger seat of the Impala and Sam's hand was gripping his shoulder. His brother's face was coated with worry.
"You were asleep and then all of a sudden—" Sam broke off, his hand returning to the wheel from Dean's shoulder.
Dean mopped at the sweat beading up on his face. His heart still wouldn't slow. His stomach was sinking, heavy. He gulped at the tight constriction in his throat.
"Are you good?" Sam asked, that cavern still fixed between his worried brows.
Dean shook his head. His jaw clenched. "No."
Prompt: "I miss moments like this more than anything."
