Dean lounges against the airport bench, one foot propped up on his knee, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he scans the bustling crowd for your familiar figure. He's been waiting for what feels like an eternity, but he knows you'll show up eventually. After all, you always do.

Just as he's about to go to you, seeing your familiar face in the terminal, two burly sheriffs approach, their expressions stern and unyielding. Dean arches an eyebrow in mock innocence, his grin widening as he leans back to meet their gaze.

"Aw, did you guys come all this way just to see little old me?" he quips, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm flattered, really."

The sheriffs exchange a weary glance, clearly unamused by Dean's antics. But he's unfazed, his cocky demeanor never faltering as he continues to push their buttons with his trademark charm.

"So, what's the occasion?" Dean asks, feigning ignorance as he flicks his cigarette lighter open and closed. "Am I getting a police escort? Because if so, I gotta say, I'm feeling pretty special right about now."

The sheriffs exchange a knowing look before one of them finally speaks up, his voice gruff and authoritative. "You're under arrest, Mr. Winchester," he says, his words clipped and precise. "You have the right to remain silent."

Dean's grin widens at the familiar recitation, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he holds up his hands in mock surrender, eyes locked on you. "Well, I guess the party's over, boys," he says with a dramatic sigh. "But hey, at least I'll have some company in the slammer, right? Come on, gimme 5 minutes with her!"