Work Text:
If you asked Dean what he liked best about Rose the answer you got would depend on a few things. What kind of mood was he is, had he had more than a few shots of whiskey and ultimately, the real deciding factor, how well did he know and trust you.
The most common answer, the easiest and one you were most likely to get if he just barely knew you would be accompanied by a lecherous grin and a hand wave in the general direction of the anatomy part in question. "Have you seen my girls’ ass?" he'd most likely ask. "Round and perky, more than a handful, and damn but it bounces just right when I smack it."
If he knew you a little he might mention Rose's cooking talent. "My girl can cook," he'd been known to proudly proclaim more than once. He may or may not include a list of some of his favorite of her dishes but he definitely wouldn't mention the best part of Rose's cooking in his mind was how it made him feel - Special and taken care of. No, he'd just rhapsodize over meatloaf or pie and leave it at that.
If Dean knew you and counted you as a friend his answer would most likely include Rose's smile. "Warmest smile in the world," he'd say. "Lights up her face and you can't convince me there's a prettier one anywhere." He'd of course leave out the bit about how when she smiled at him he felt whole and loved and seen.
Now if Dean considered you family, if you were his brother Sam, or someone else he completely trusted you might just get to hear about how kind Rose was, how her heart was the biggest there ever was and how she couldn't help wanting to take care of everyone. It would go unsaid, but not unheard, that Dean came first on that list, that he was and always had been Rose's number one priority.
The answer that no one would get, not even his brother who Dean shared so much with, not even Rose herself, happened generally at night. As a rule Dean and Rose went to bed together but Rose was no stranger to sleep issues and it happened often enough to be routine that she'd come to bed after Dean, or go to bed with him but get up and wander around the bunker then come back to bed later. In those moments she'd slip into bed beside Dean and he's always at least partially wake up. Maybe not wholly, fully, but enough to sense her presence and feel her body wrap around his. Her hands would stroke over his skin, maybe over his hair, her touch soft and gentle, the way someone touches something of so much worth they just have to be careful with it. Dean would feel her snuggle against him, her body soft and warm and the feeling that overcame him then was always just short of overwhelming. He felt loved by this amazing woman in his life. He felt treasured as if his worth was undeniable in her mind. And most of all, but what he would never give voice to, he felt protected by someone who loved him just as much as he loved her. Dean was the ultimate protector, the man who would willingly lay down his life for so many people. But in this instance he wasn't the defender. In these moments his walls were down and Rose slipped in easily and made it known he had his own guardian who would defend him to the end. It was an equal love, a balanced protection between them, something Dean had never imagined he’d have. And as he felt her lips kiss his forehead softly as he slipped back into the layers of sleep he would smile softly in contentment. This was undeniably the best thing.