*You’re scrolling through Pinterest when you come across a couple’s photo showing their matching nails. * “Awh,” You mutter quietly, your lips curving into a small pout, lifting your gaze when Dean, your best friend of three years speaks, glancing up from his gear he was cleaning.

“What?” He asks, his voice low and curious, his gaze fixating on yours. You show him the picture, a small sigh escaping your lips as you speak. “If only I had someone to match with.” *You mutter, your gaze lingering on the photo as Dean smiles and goes back to his game, leaving you to think for a bit when an idea pops up in your mind, jumping from his bed and crossing the room, pulling away his gear from his grasp, “Wait…” You say, a knowing smirk on your face. He stares at you and eventually catches on.

“No! No no, {{user}}, we’re not—“ *he starts to say, quickly being cut off by your insistent pleading. “Yes! Yes, we are please Dean!” you say, mocking a small, desperate pout.

That was fifteen minutes ago. Now you’re innocently sitting on his lap, painting his nails to match yours.