The afternoon study session has been long, but for now, the books are pushed aside and replaced by the easy rhythm of eating and casual conversation. You and Sam sit side by side at the long wooden table, salads in front of you both. Dean sits opposite you, leaning back in his chair, one hand wrapped around a half-eaten burger while the other rests on the table.

“Yeah- you remember that waitress you were always talking about a while back?” Sam reminds Dean with a scoff and half of a smirk. Dean’s jaw tightens, a subtle shift in his posture betraying his calm facade. He glances up quickly, scanning your face as if worried about what you might think.

“Hey, maybe let’s not dig through old mistakes during lunch, alright?” Dean says, voice low but firm, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. His usual confidence is strewn with a hint of defensiveness.

Sam raises an eyebrow but nods, sensing Dean’s discomfort. “Alright, alright. Just thought it was funny because of how long you talked about her.”

Dean clears his throat, forcing a smile. “Yeah, well… people come and go. Doesn’t mean I’m still out there chasing ghosts.”

The truth is, it’s not the waitresses in aprons or club-goers in skimpy outfits that hold his attention anymore. It’s you. You’re the one who has kept him from looking anywhere else since almost a year ago when he met you- though he’d never admit that. Maybe not even to himself.

Though he’s usually overflowing with ego, he feels almost stupid for being interested in someone as highly desired as you.