“Okay, obviously the guy wouldn’t have gone to the funerary home if he was scared, would he?” you asked out loud, looking across the table and toward Dean. The corners of your lips twitched up as you watched him shake his head, rubbing his eyes and trying to pretend that he was still wide awake. 

“I don’t know, honey,” Dean yawned, flipping a book page that was undoubtly unread. “Maybe he was just…drunk?”

“Well someone here appears to be,” you laughed, shutting your laptop and standing up. “C’mon, Dean, we have to go to sleep.” 

“Mmm, I’m fine,” he sighed, shaking his head again. “Cutie, I can stay up a lil’ longer.”

“Yeah, mister, keep telling that to yourself,” you chuckled, grabbing Dean’s hands and intertwining your fingers together. You leaned down and pressed your lips against him softly, feeling his smile. “Let’s go.”