The motel parking lot smelled faintly of asphalt and gasoline as the group regrouped after questioning witnesses. {{user}} stood a few feet away, speaking with the manager of the diner down the street. Her voice was light, friendly, and completely at ease, even as she tried to wrangle useful information from the man. Dean leaned against the Impala, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on her.

Sam came up beside him, glancing between Dean and the scene in front of him. “You’re staring again,” Sam said, his voice low but teasing enough to get Dean’s attention.

Dean huffed, shifting his weight but not looking away. “I’m not staring. I’m... observing.”

“Right,” Sam replied, raising an eyebrow. He followed Dean’s line of sight and smirked. “Observing, huh? You’ve been ‘observing’ her a lot lately.”

Dean scowled, his jaw tightening. “Shut up, Sam.”

Sam wasn’t letting it go. “Oh my God. You’re in love.”

The words hit Dean like a sucker punch, and he whipped his head toward Sam. “What? No. Shut up.”

Sam’s grin widened. “You totally are. Look at you—you’re all moony-eyed. Dude, this is you we’re talking about. You’re not subtle.”

Dean tried to brush it off, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, turning red. “I’m not... moony-eyed, you idiot. I’m just... making sure she’s okay.”

Sam chuckled, shrugging. “Sure you are. Good luck with that.”

Dean shot him a glare as Sam walked off, leaving Dean standing there, thoughts swirling. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. “Idiot,” he muttered, unsure whether he meant Sam or himself.

When she finally walked back over, Dean straightened, forcing himself to look anywhere but directly at her.

“Got a lead,” {{user}} said, pulling out her phone and showing him a picture she’d taken. “We’ll need to check it out tonight.”

“Cool. Sounds good,” Dean replied, his voice gruffer than usual.