Men. Something that Dean would’ve never, ever seen himself liking. He knew he only swung one way, hell he loved chicks, but you?

You were something else. Something new.

Dean lost count of the amount of times he caught himself staring at your muscles in your arms or back, trying to get a peep of your stomach when you stretched, and those veiny hands of yours. Fuck he was weak.

He wasn’t into men. He kept trying to convince himself and before that would’ve been easy. But then you had to go and show up. And to make matters worse? You were flirty and cocky as hell

“I don’t wanna sit on ya lap, man.”

his deep voice drawled as he sat there, flicking through a book with you sat near to him as yet again you tried to flirt with him. To you, you thought you were just annoying him because you knew he wasn’t into men. But Deans heart raced and palms sweated each time you did flirt

And he hated that he loved it