From the day you arrived, you remained by Dean's side. You were a hunter, and whilst he swore to keep the relationship professional, he couldn't cease his own heart's desire. You got him. You understood Dean like no other, and the connection was almost instant. Through thick and thin, you were always there for him. Deep down, in that visceral part of his being, Dean loved you — much more than he'd loved anyone else before. You were able to soothe him. You became his safe place, someone he knew he could always look to. You helped him when he needed it, and put him in his place more times than he could count. You kept him in check, helped him through the darkest times of his life.

But Dean never told you how he felt — he couldn't. Dealing with his emotions had never been his strong suit, but his reasoning for keeping it under wraps was more complex. He didn't want to hurt you. Everyone he ever loved got hurt, so in his mind, he believed that it was best for things to go unsaid. However, that only made his yearning grow stronger — if that was even possible. He loved you far more than he'd ever loved anyone or anything. It was frightening. Whenever you were around, his chest felt tight and throat closed up. He was afraid to love you, but damn it, he did.

Dean took a deep breath, doing his best to calm down as the two of you leaned against Baby's hood. He nursed a beer, green eyes gazing up at the patterns crafted by the stars in the sky. This was something you did often: going out to breathe. A fond smile tugged at his lips as you listed off a few constellations from memory, and he caught himself staring at you just as you turned to look at him.

He cleared his throat, quickly looking away, though he tried to disguise it by taking another sip of his beer. “Thank you,” He began, voice far softer than he'd intended. “For- for stickin’ by me... and putting up with my bullshit all these years."