Hello!!! If you’re still taking prompts/in the mood, I’m like super meh and mopey and would love to see some fluffy johndean cuddling! Maybe on the couch? Being lazy and relaxed, just comfortable and domestic.
I'm so sorry things are rough :( work is already breathing down my neck but here's a short little soft something
***
It’s nice, Dean thinks as he folds up the last piece of laundry, putting the flannel on top of the others in his bag. There had been a lull in cases, nothing new for days, which had left him holed up here in this shitty little apartment in Nowhere, Nebraska with John, affording them some unexpected, if not unwelcome time to unwind.
He looks over to where John is sitting on the couch, one foot propped against the coffee table, his untouched beer pearling condensation onto the cheap wood. The tv is on but he can tell John isn’t really paying attention, his eyes drifting shut every so often.
Dean walks over, sits down next to John, before reaching for the beer, taking a pull. John eyes him with something akin to amusement, but doesn’t comment, waving him off when Dean offers the bottle to him. ‘Laundry done?’
Dean hums in confirmation, setting the bottle back on the table, leaning back into the lumpy couch. ‘What are we watching?’
Beside him, John shifts, and a second later he can feel the warm weight of John’s hand at the back of his neck. ‘Don’t know.’
He turns to look at John, the soft, relaxed lines of his face, the warmth in his eyes. It’s a rarity these days and Dean treasures moments like these, when it’s just the two of them, no hunts, no urgency, just existing together. He leans in to steal a kiss, soft, just lips against lips, and he can feel John smile into it.
‘This is nice,’ Dean says as he pulls away, shifts in his seat so can stretch out, only stopping once his head comes to rest on John’s thigh. John huffs and Dean’s not sure if he agrees or not, but John brings his hand down to comb through his hair a second later, so Dean thinks he does.
Dean lets his eyes drift close for a moment, just focusing on John’s solid presence and the fingers still playing idly with the short strands of his hair.
He barely suppresses a groan when he can hear a phone buzz against the coffee table. He’s not ready for this to be over, for them to put up their walls back up and go back out there to kill things.
Surprisingly, John doesn’t seem to be either. Instead, he just traces his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, down over his lips, his other hand settling softly on Dean’s chest. ‘Just a few more minutes.’
Dean exhales on a soft sigh, allowing his eyes to slide shut again. Yes, just a few more minutes.
