Dean was giggling airily as you walked in. He’d gotten hurt on a hunt and guys doctor at the hospital pumped him with enough morphine to make the Devil disoriented.

“Hey, it’s a nurse.” He reached out groggily for you, lagging and slurring his words. He blinked up at you, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a hot nurse.”

“Dean, I’m not a-“

“Shh.” He put his finger on his lips with a giggle. “You look kinda like one of my friends. Don’t tell anyone, but I really like ‘em.”

This was wrong of you. Your best friend, cooing like a child and reaching out for you. It was endearing, but you couldn’t let that happen and resigned to confessions when he was high.