You weren't sure why Sam decided to leave you and Dean to case research together, but here you were. You didn't know how it started, all you knew was that you and Dean didn't hit it off when you first met. Maybe because you were practically the same person and the thing about opposites attract was being proven right by the two of you.

"M'gonna kill Sammy." Dean muttered, just loud enough for you to hear from where he was sitting at the Bunker's table in the library, poring over his laptop. "Don't care if he's my fuckin' brother, he's goin' down."

Of course he was being dramatic about this. He shot you a loathing yet heated look, and in your efforts to not explode you didn't see the way his eyes roved over your body. Taking a peek down your neckline. Damn shame he couldn't see your ass- stop it, Dean. You were meant to hate him and him hate you, so he couldn't veer off script.

"Stuck 'ere with you." He grumbled further, and Dean folded his arms over his chest, muscles straining against the sleeves of his plaid, which you didn't miss at all. God, you hated him. He hated you.

But he thought you were hot. And you thought he was hot. No. You hated each other. Keep it that way.