[ the creaking of the door has his eyes opening. the light temporarily blinds him, and he scrunches his nose, brain immediately switching to big brother mode. the only person who would come in here is sam. dean doesn’t like not sharing a room with him, and most of the time they will share, both here and at bobby’s house, but both brothers have been cagey and space will definitely be good for them right now. ]
[ he sits up, fingers sliding off mary’s picture. his bed head is still evident despite the fact that he hasn’t even slept yet, half of his hair pressed flat against his head and the other half sticking out wildly. the blanket slides down to his waist, cotton boxers peeking out from beneath it. he peers over to the door, fully expecting to see six feet of little brother hulking behind it. ]
[ instead, he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming. his expression changes to one of complete confusion, then a bit of sleepy vulnerability because dean’s guessing sam wasn’t the only one who noticed he was acting off tonight. his game was off, missing jo’s witty retorts more often than not before excusing himself to bed early. ]
[ still, he doesn’t know why she’s here, or what for. does she need something? did he leave something in the bathroom again? ]
she’ll stand there, her shadow cast larger than life on the adjacent wall, at a loss for words. suddenly, her legs feel too bare, and she feels cold, and too nervous. as if, at moment he’s going to tell her to go back to her room. as if he might get up and close the door in her face. but he doesn’t. he just looks at her with his hair a mess, and the little gate he fashions in the daylight let down.
a slight shiver runs over her, her arms hugging the warmth against her lean frame. she hesitates for just a moment, unsure of really what she wants to do. how she could help. how she could possibly make any of this better. honestly, she just wants to see him smile, so she’ll try her own, and it’s goofy. sleep deprived. she’s embarrassed, and rubs at her forehead with the bunched up cuff of her sweatshirt.
deftly, she slips in through the doorway, and with a soft, swish, and click, closes the door behind her. with just the dim light seeping in from the window, she makes her way to the bed, her hand feeling around for the edge. she can see his face fine, the low light casting shadows across his cheek.
her thin hand feels around for the edge of the duvet. her heart is jumping in her chest. there’s an air of foreboding here, but just over it, the conviction of comfort. still smiling, she peels the blanket back, climbing in between the sheets. her soft shins run across his thigh, as she makes a place for herself in the guest bed.
❝lay back down. s'all right.❞