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The shower didn’t help.
Sure, she’s now clean of werewolf blood spatter, but she couldn’t scrub the hunt from her mind.
The boy was seconds away from being killed; Dean just made it in time.
Everyone walked out okay. It was over.
But the adrenaline would not stop pumping through her veins.
She checks her phone when she enters her room. 2:36 A.M. One glance at her bed, and she knows, then and there, no sleep is coming to her tonight.
Sighing, she flicks off the desk lamp and heads out into the silent hallway. Sam and Dean already turned in, but maybe they weren’t asleep, either. Maybe Sam was working through that 1,000-page novel he found in the bunker’s library. Maybe Dean had his headphones on, music blaring.
Both of their doors are cracked. Both of them are snoring.
She wraps her arms around herself, feeling alone and unbearably small. Thankfully, reason creeps in, reminding her that the most important people in her life are safe. A smile breaks across her face. She’s glad they’re getting some rest, even if she’s not able to join them with a respite of her own. They deserve it.
Her feet suddenly know their destination.
The kitchen.
The boys deserve a good night’s sleep, and they deserve something nice to wake up to.
She pulls the expensive stand mixer from the bottom shelf of the pantry. Plugging it into an outlet on the island, she still can’t believe she has one.
It was a gift from Dean after they all moved into the bunker. Nowhere near her birthday or a holiday, just because he knew she always wanted one. And when Sam secretly told her that Dean bought it with money from a day-laborer job out of the classifieds, she melted on the spot.
Dean’s been running credit card scams for decades. He could kick anyone’s ass at pool at the local bar.
But he paid for her present with honest money.
Oh, she loves him.
Quietly.
Completely.
She exchanges her robe for a plaid apron and then gets to work.
***
Three hours later, she’s surrounded by dozens of oversized chocolate chip cookies.
She couldn’t help it; she was in the zone, and it was soothing.
She begins filling zip-up baggies with the cookies that have cooled. The hunters are sure to have sugar rushes on their next few road trips.
The most recent batch--the one that’s still warm and gooey--goes on a platter. It’ll be displayed on the kitchen table, ready for when the boys wake up.
Well, most of it will be. What kind of baker would she be if she didn’t indulge in the fruits of her labor?
With a mug of milk and a napkin, she claims one of the stools. She’s about to take her first sip when…
“Smells amazing in here.”
She jolts, milk dripping down her wrist and onto the tabletop.
Dean wears his open robe, tousled hair, and a guilty expression. “Sorry.” He descends the single step into the room and hastily grabs a dishtowel for her.
“Thanks,” she accepts the rag and his apology.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he wonders as he sits across from her.
She shakes her head and tries for another sip.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Me. Not us. Me.
She could move mountains with the strength it takes for her not to read further into his wording.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” she responds simply. She hoped he’d get his four hours. And he did. Barely.
Dean levels his eyes with hers. “You could never bother me.”
The sting of tears comes on quickly, but it’s joined by a grateful smile. She swallows before speaking. “You needed some rest.”
“Doesn’t mean you had to be alone,” he challenges.
“I wasn’t.” She gestures to the bags littering the island. “Do you see how many cookies are in here?”
Dean chuckles, and the victory of making him laugh is instantly stored in her heart.
“You were busy, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.” She pushes the platter of cookies toward him.
His eyebrows lift, and he doesn’t hesitate to nab one.
“Ohmyguhd,” Dean mumbles around his huge bite.
“Good?” she wonders, pride warming her chest.
“Awesome,” he manages to articulate before shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth.
While he’s still chewing, she rises to pour him a glass of milk. The look in his eyes as she hands it to him is one she won’t forget for a very long time. All surprise and appreciation.
Of the dozen cookies on the table, she gets two before they’re gone.
She’s not the least bit mad about it.
“You can open one of the bags, if you want,” she informs him.
Dean’s face lights up as he glances at the remainder of her treats, but then he sags a little in his seat. “Nah, I shouldn’t.” His hand ghosts over his stomach.
“Saving room for breakfast?” She gives him a wink, and she swears, a hint of pink graces his cheeks.
He recovers quickly. “Exactly.”
“Well…” She stands. “I can make that happen.”
“Oh, no,” he immediately protests. She furrows her brows at him. “You made the midnight snack. I’ve got breakfast covered.”
Dean hops up and heads to the fridge. He stacks the eggs, bacon, and cheese against his chest and begins humming a tune. Scorpions, if she’s correct.
She watches as he falls into a rhythm at the stove. Seeing him happy is everything to her. And even if things never go further than friendship, she’ll still spend the rest of her days doing all she can to keep him that way.