Supernatural x Reader

2. Motel Room (cont.)

You awoke to the sound of clamoring and movement. You finally start to open your eyes, remembering how you slept with Sam and how close you had gotten. You look at what's entangled in your arms, and it isn't Sam, but a pillow. You release it and turn over, your face fading into a light pink. You hear a chuckle, and see Sam and Dean in the kitchen, looking at you. Your eyes look back and forth between the two, and Dean smirks, then winks at you before turning back around.

I guess they're making breakfast? How strange.

 You look back over at Sam, who smiles shyly, and you give him one back before he turns around again.

You decide to get up and get dressed for the day, as they were both ready to go. You needed to stop being so lazy, we had to get on the next case. You pick up some fresh clothes and head to the bathroom to get changed. As you are getting changed, You realize that you don't have your bra.

Shit.

You put back on the shirt you had on earlier, hoping that they wouldn't be able to see your chest. You look around the room and back where you had your clothes, and you still can't seem to find it.

"Hey, where's my bra?" You ask the boys and hear Dean snicker in reply.

"Dean, what the hell. Where is it?"

"It's in the laundry with all of our clothes. Sammy threw it in there," Dean says slyly, earning a punch in the shoulder from Sam, his expression contorting in embarrassment.

"I'll go get it soon, the laundry should be done in a sec," Sam says, looking at you, and then at more of you. You turn away and sit down on the bed, grabbing your book once more. You needed to act more professional and you decide to get on the next case.

"So, do we have a new case?"

"No, well, I was aiming to look for one in the newspaper. I found something about fifteen miles away. Some girl ran away from her house, claiming it was haunted, and her parents admitted her into a mental hospital. The catch is, her mother claims to have seen this thing too, and her husband is now threatening to throw her in the cell as well. So I thought it might be our type of case," Dean responds. He brings the frying pan off the stove and holds it out in front of him, waving it around slowly. He flicks his wrist slightly, and what appears to be an omelet goes flying up into the air and lands back into the pan. "Heh-ha," Dean snickers, smiling.

"Why are you making breakfast anyway?" You comment.

"Well, why not?" Dean says, causing a weird look to spread across your face. You raise your eyebrows at him.

"What? Can't a man just cook once in a while?"

"I didn't know you knew how," You say, a small smile forming on Sam's face as well as your own.

"Of course I can, now let me cook in peace."

"As long as you make me one."

"No way! You can cook by yourself. Come on, you make those crêpes and soufflés, that fancy French shit. You're cultured. I'm not." Sam looks at you, sharing your mild expression.

"You do cook really well, Y/N," Sam says. You try not to blush, turning your head a little.

"Thanks," You mutter, trying to hide your smile.

"Aw, how adorable." You stare at Dean. "Fine, fine, I'll make you one, on one condition."

"Yes?"

"No looking over my shoulder saying things like 'you should've used more oregano' or 'why do you have so much butter and oil on the pan' or 'here, do it like this, not like this'. Okay? I can handle a freaking omelet." You walk over to him and give him a quick peck on the cheek which causes him to at first look confused, then content with himself. Then you look over his shoulder and make a hissing noise through your teeth, breathing in.