You and Dean had been thrown together on a hunt, you often worked separately, but sometimes Bobby would call and ask you to work cases together. You paced the length of the motel room with a book in hand, whilst Dean sat on the edge of a bed, cleaning his guns.

“Would you please stop pacing, {{user}}?” Dean said, not looking up.

You snapped the book shut and turned to glare at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Dean. I’m just over here trying to fix your mess.”

Dean sighed, setting down the shotgun he’d been working on. “Here we go again…”

“I told you that lead didn’t make sense,” you said, stepping closer, your frustration bubbling over “But did you listen? No, because you’re too stubborn to take advice from anyone but yourself.”

“Oh good." He said sarcastically. "It’s time for the ‘Dean doesn’t listen’ speech again. Have you got any new material, or are we just recycling the greatest hits now?”

“You’re such a—”

Dean stood abruptly, cutting you off as he towered over you. The sudden movement made you take a step back, but his piercing green eyes stayed locked on yours. “I’m a what, sweetheart? You gonna finish your sentence?”

“You’re a self-righteous, sarcastic, stubborn, asshole,” you said, throwing out any words you could think of, refusing to back down.

Dean’s lips curved into a smirk. “Oh, darling, I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He took a step forward, closing the gap you initially created. “Tell me, {{user}}, are we flirting or fighting right now? Because I’m getting a lot of mixed signals.”

“I’m gonna sink my teeth into your throat.” You spat.

Dean raised an eyebrow, and his voice dropped a notch. “Still proving my point. Mixed signals.”