You fidget. A lot. Especially when nervous. Tapping your fingers, biting your nails, spinning jewelry…

You’re about to interrogate a witness for a hunt. This hunt hits a little too close to home. So close the whole idea of it makes you anxious. You have yet to bring it up to Dean, it isn’t his problem you can’t handle the idea of investigating this kind of thing.

From the moment you sat at the booth, you’ve been non-stop tapping your thumb against the table top. Nails clicking as you sit there restless. You nibble on the corner of your lip absentmindedly, gaze fixed on this one small scrape of the table.

Suddenly you feel a large hand engulf your twitchy one.

“Hey…Cool it.” Dean says smoothly in an attempt to chill you out at least a little. “No offense, but you’re making me anxious with the little...” He mimics the fidget with his free hand to make his point. His fingers curl around yours as he stares at you longer than you expected, silently asking that you tell him what the hell is going on inside that head of yours.

He knows you won’t tell him though. You’re almost as stubborn as he is with opening up. “Just uh…breathe. Yknow? s’important.”He relents and pats your hand.