Word Count: 200
Summary: Dean loves his memory foam mattress
Disclaimer: I don’t own him
The memory foam mattress knew how much Dean loved it; how excited he’d been when he first bought it from the store and carried it back to the bunker in the back of the big black car.
It knew how much Dean looked forward to settling down on it when he retired at the end of the day; that he appreciated the sound sleeps it gave him after he nestled into its spongy embrace each night. It knew that Dean also appreciated the way it soothed the many and varied pains and discomforts that his challenging life routinely caused him.
But most of all, the mattress knew that what Dean loved the most about it was that it remembered him. It steadfastly memorised every nook and every contour, every bone and every muscle of his weary body to give him the healing sleeps he craved so much.
The mattress would love to say that this was an admirable skill honed through years of hard work and dedication to its task, but unfortunately it wasn’t.
The mattress spent every night with Dean Winchester on top of it. As if it was ever going to be able to forget that.