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in which we c/p shit from bakerstreet
May. 11th, 2013 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sixbuckdropoutAnita and Dean had many things in common. They were both hunters, they both saw eye-to-eye on the things that mattered, like family. Perhaps most importantly was that they'd both been through hell. For Dean, it was quite literal. Four months that translated to forty years hell-time, plus all of the pain and bullshit that came from the lifestyle that chose him. Anita's life was no walk in the park, either. What had started as camaraderie through understanding had eventually become a lot more.
Right now was a prime example of that. If there was one thing that Dean hated, it was being vulnerable, especially around someone else. But he trusted her to sleep not only in the same room, but in the same bed. In most circumstances, this was probably a bad idea, considering how often Dean had nightmares. Unless he was too exhausted to dream, he tended to have them every time he slept, despite how briefly the sleep might have been to begin with.
This was no exception. He wasn't being too disruptive, just tossing and turning. If there was enough lighting in the room, the discomforted expression he bore would be at least partially visible.
Right now was a prime example of that. If there was one thing that Dean hated, it was being vulnerable, especially around someone else. But he trusted her to sleep not only in the same room, but in the same bed. In most circumstances, this was probably a bad idea, considering how often Dean had nightmares. Unless he was too exhausted to dream, he tended to have them every time he slept, despite how briefly the sleep might have been to begin with.
This was no exception. He wasn't being too disruptive, just tossing and turning. If there was enough lighting in the room, the discomforted expression he bore would be at least partially visible.
