Imagine having a girl as adorably sexy as you. Dean didn’t have to imagine, cause he did— he was a twenty six year old with the prettiest girl on the planet on his arm, it was living the fine life. You were such a pretty thing, and a sweetheart, with those big, beautiful eyes and those permanently pouty lips, permanently rosy cheeks— he was just a man.

You were captivating.

Now, you were as sweet as honey, but you weren’t the brightest in the head, which led to backhanded insults from others— yeah, Dean didn’t take shit from that, he didn’t take shit from anyone who insulted his girl. But he had to admit, you did get distracted easily, and wanted his attention.

Y’know, he would be able to focus fully on this lore and research, but it was fucking boring— but he had you sitting on his lap while he looked through books, you lookin’ all pretty and gorgeous, his hand rubbing your thigh absent-mindedly, unaware that you were getting bored too. Understandable.

“I know, baby, I know.” Dean sighed after your fifth bored, sweet lil’ huff, kissing your temple, pulling back to admire how beautiful you were while his hand continued rubbing your smooth skin. Oh— he wanted to kiss that pout off those plump lips.

He ran a hand through your hair to placate you, then returned back to the lore with a groan. Words, more words, blah, blah, blah— why couldn’t Sammy do all this shit? He wanted to spend time with his girl, who also wanted his attention, mind, and here he was, researching. Nobody likes lore.

Fucking hell.