Imagine: Sharing a bed with Dean and cuddling while sleeping.

Key:

(y/n)-your name

(y/e/c)-your eye color

(y/h/c)-your hair color

(y/h/l)-your hair length

It was late, and you were riding in the front seat of the Impala with Dean Winchester.

Dean had dragged you out on this hunt because Sam had spent the past two nights researching, and was far too tired to hunt properly.

"You all right, (Y/n)?" Dean asks you.

"I'm fine." You answer. "Just exhausted and in need of a shower."

"Well, we're here," Dean says as he pulls into the parking lot of another motel.

"I've never been so glad as to see a cheap motel parking lot." You mutter.

You and Dean both grab your bags full of fresh clothes and other necessities, and walk in. At the front desk was an obviously exhausted woman, having to act cheerful.

"Hello! How may I help you?" She asks, forcing some enthusiasm into her tone.

"We need a room with two queens." You answer.

"I'm so sorry, (Ma'am/Mister), but all of our queen-sized, two bed rooms have been booked." The woman says, genuinely sad about that. "But we do have a room with one queen available, if you and your boyfriend don't mind sharing."

"We're not together. We're simply friends." You say, a light blush decorating your cheeks.

You see, you had a massive crush on the the dark-haired, apple-green eyed hunter. But since Dean never shows any signs of liking you like that, you never said anything. This greatly annoys Sam, because he believes Dean likes you.

"Oh," the woman says awkwardly.

"Dean, I'm tired enough." You say. Normally you wouldn't complain, but it has been a long day. "Is it all right with you if we just share the bed, rather than go look someplace else."

"It's not a problem." Dean says, shifting somewhat awkwardly. Is that a blush on his cheek? "We'll take the room, Ma'am."

Dean pays her, she gives you the key card, and you and Dean trudge down the hallway to the room.

Sure enough, there was only one queen-sized bed.

You place your bag down on the bed, grab your most comfortable sleepwear, and take a quick shower.

You step out of the bathroom to find Dean standing there. He was nervous. What is this? Dean Winchester never gets nervous.

"So, uh, (Y/n), it's fine with me if you want to sleep on the bed. I could just stay on the floor."

"No!" You say hastily. Then to cover up you add, "I'd hate to make you sleep on the floor over something so stupid. I'll take one side of the bed and you take the other."

"Alright, (Y/n)." Dean agrees, seeming happy. I don't blame him. I don't like the looks of the carpet myself. It looks rather uncomfortable.

Dean lays down on the left side and you on the right. You both stayed at the absolute edge of the bed in order to not make this more awkward. You failed. Eventually, you managed to shove down the awkward embarrassment you felt and drift off into dreamland.

*Dean POV*

(Y/n) may have been able to fall asleep, but I couldn't.

Damn it! Why couldn't there have been a different room available? I don't like feeling so uncomfortable around (her/him/them). We're friends. It doesn't matter how much I love (her/his/their) personality, and perfect beauty.

(Y/n) stirs in (her/his/their) sleep and moves a little closer to me. I tense.

(Y/n) snuggles up against my chest and gives a contented sigh.

(She/He/They) are so cute. The way (her/his/their) (y/h/c) (y/h/l) hair glistens in the dim light, the slight part to their lips, and (y/e/c) eyes closed peacefully. (Y/n) may look sweet and innocent, but (she/he/they) aren't afraid to stand up for themselves or others if needed.

So perfect, and so unattainable. (She/He/They) would never love me. I'm a broken man, and (she/he/they) is perfect. I lay there all night mulling over far-fetched ideas about an apple pie life with (y/n) at my side. 

The next morning, (y/n) stretches and hits me in the face.

"Ouch!" I yell. (Y/n) sure can punch.

"Oh my God, Dean! I'm so sorry!" (Y/n) exclaims. "I didn't mean to! I just woke up, and my arms were all stiff, so I stretched. Oh God! Were we cuddling? Oh this is so embarrassing. I never wanted you to find out this way. . . ."

(She/He/They) blushed as (she/he/they) continued to ramble. Finally, I was sick of listening to (her/his/their) lovely voice going on without a break. I leaned in and. . .we kissed.

After a moment we pulled away. I rubbed my neck, "We should be heading on."

I got up and left the room for the safety of the hallway with (y/n) calling after me, "Hold it, Winchester! What was that? Don't you walk away!"

Well let me know what you think! Was it too long? I don't really know how long an imagine is supposed to be. I didn't come up with this imagine. I found it online. 

Until next time.