Supernatural Sister Imagines

Imagine #75: Midnight Waffles

Imagine: Dean wakes you up in the middle of the night to cook.

Age: 16

Warnings: Extreme fluff

A/N: This one is a Dean only imagine, because I felt like the scenario wouldn't work the same with Sam, but next chapter's will be an only Sam to make up for that.

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     "Y/n."

    I blinked open my eyes, wondering why my light was on when I knew I went to bed with it off. I craned my neck to look at the door and found my answer.

     "Do you want me to make pancakes?" Dean asked, leaning in the doorway casually, still clad in sweatpants and a plain T-shirt.

     "Dean--" I rubbed my eyes and glanced at my clock-- "It's one in the morning."

     "Waffles it is then. Come on." Without another word he slipped into the hall, and I had no choice but to get up and follow him, crossing my arms over myself and rubbing the crust from my eyes. I tiptoed past Sam's room-- apparently Dean didn't feel the need to wake both Winchester siblings-- and entered the kitchen, where Dean himself was already pulling the ingredients for waffles out of the cabinets.

     "Dean, what are you doing?" I mumbled, my voice husky as I followed my brother around the room on feet with barely the strength to lift themselves off the ground.

     "I told you. Waffles." Dean replied simply as he turned the waffle iron on and sprayed it with non-stick.

     "Yeah, but why so early?" I rolled my eyes when he ignored me, repeating my question before eventually yanking his elbow, turning him to face me, "Dean, why?"

     "Because I can't sleep," His voice lost its playful air and his eyes went foggy, "I just need my sister right now."

     I paused, staring into his forest greens and watching the glassy film that formed over them. I was shocked to realize that film was tears. The smallest, slightest, could-never-fall-because-they're-so-thin tears.

     "Dean," I reached forward and placed my hand on his cheek, stroking his stubble with my thumb, "what's going on?"

     "I haven't slept, normally at least, in a few weeks now. I dream too much. And I can't-- the only thing that calms me down is you." He explained in a soft voice, and suddenly he felt smaller than ever beneath my touch.

     "Dean," I stood up on my tiptoes and pulled him to me, wrapping my arms tight around his shoulders and kissing his cheek before my nose buried itself in his shirt, "why didn't you come to me before?"

     His arms slowly came up and around my torso, gripping me like I was the most important thing in his life, and he gave a long sigh.

     "I didn't want to bother you," He murmured into my neck, closing his eyes and breathing in my scent, "but I just can't take it anymore."

     "Then lets make waffles," I pulled him away from me and ran my hands through his bed head, the soft locks like silk between my fingers, "and after we eat them I'll come and sleep with you."

     "You'd do that for me?" He asked, his eyes brightening. I chuckled and shook my head slightly.

     "I'd do anything for you, doofus." I said, and he smiled and kissed my cheek, releasing me and turning back to his waffle iron.

     I boosted myself onto the counter next to the iron as he poured a layer of batter into it and closed it. I took his hand and pulled him to me, standing between my knees with his back to me while I played with his hair.

     "I love when you do that." He said after a moment, his head falling back to my shoulder as I smiled.

     "I love doing it," I replied, "Your hair is soft."

     "Why are you so sweet on me, little girl?" Dean asked, pulling his head from my grasp and turning around to face me. My hands dropped to my lap and I gave a lopsided grin.

     "Because you're my brother. You raised me from the ground up and I love you." I said, and he chuckled, taking my face in his hands and kissing it.

     "I love you too, anklebiter." He said before turning to his iron, flipping it over and checking the time. He went to the fridge and poured two glasses of milk, wordlessly sipping one and handing me the other.

     "So how many waffles are you planning on making?" I asked, looking at the bowl of batter.

     "Probably however many this batch makes. I'm not even really hungry, I just needed something to do." He explained as he sat on the counter beside me, drawing his arm around me and placing his cheek on my head.

     "Well, if we have leftovers, toss em' in the fridge and Sam can have them." I replied as I sipped at my milk, showing Dean the impressive milkstache I formed before licking it away.

     "Are you joking?" Dean said playfully, "Sam doesn't eat waffles. He's on a strict rabbit food diet."

     I gave a chuckle, rolling my eyes as Dean hopped from the counter and retrieved his finished waffle, putting it on a plate and filling the iron once again.

     I snatched the waffle from the plate, ripping it in half and stuffing a piece in my mouth before I realized how hot it was. But, rather than spit it out, I simply chewed open-mouthed while exhaling the flames loudly, all whilst Dean laughed beside me.

     "Jeez, you're going to burn every tastebud off your damn tongue, goofball." He teased, rolling his eyes.

     "Don't wormy abou it I got his." I mumbled, nearly choking on the fluffy waffle as I forced it painfully down my throat.

     It wasn't long before the rest of the waffles were made and discarded in the fridge, and before I knew it I was following Dean as he padded down the hall toward his room, his shoulders slumping and the brightness in his eyes dimming.

     He entered his room and I slipped into his bed beside him. Almost immediately he had pulled me to him, arm drawn over my waist as my head fell to his chest.

     "I'm sorry you have to baby me like this," he murmured into my hair, his voice breathy and barely above a whisper, "It should me taking care of you, not the other way around--"

    "Shh, Dean," I pulled my arm up and wrapped it over him, drawing soothing circles into his back, coaxing away the tenseness in his shoulders, "please don't be sorry. All of us Winchesters need help from time to time. Just relax, I'm here now and I'm not gonna leave you."

     Dean gave a large yawn, his nose dipping toward my neck and his eyes falling shut, "What did I ever do to deserve you, Y/n Winchester?"

     "I love you, Dean." I murmured, receiving a hum in response as I continued to draw the same soothing pattern into his back, and it wasn't long before his body had completely relaxed and his breathing had evened out.

     And he didn't move for the rest of the night.