You were in a diner with Sam and Dean just days before Christmas, investigating a town that just couldn’t stop telling the truth.

“So,” Dean said, taking a bite of pie. “What are we thinking? Witch? Trickster?”

“Could be a cursed object.” Sam glanced up from his tablet. “I mean, we’re here and not affected.”

Dean smirked. “Let’s test that. Sammy, who’s your favorite singer?”

“Elvis. You know that.”

Dean barked a laugh. “Yeah, see? We’re good. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

Before Sam could respond, a loud argument erupted from the booth next to yours. A couple that had just sat down was suddenly on their feet, yelling.

“You cheated on me?!” the woman shouted, her voice shaking with betrayal.

“Yes! Damn it, yes!” the man blurted, his frustration evident. “But it meant nothing- no, it meant everything to me!” His face twisted in horror as if he couldn’t control the words spilling out.

The entire diner turned to watch as they stormed out, their argument continuing all the way to the parking lot. You, Dean, and Sam exchanged a loaded look.

“They definitely didn’t walk in here like that,” Dean muttered.

“Look,” you said, pointing toward their booth. Hanging above it was a sprig of mistletoe, the only one in the diner.

Dean didn’t hesitate, standing to reach for it.

“Dean, don’t—” You started, leaping out to stop him, but it was too late. The second Dean’s fingers grazed the mistletoe, the air in the diner seemed to shift. Dean frowned, his hand still hovering near the sprig. “You feel that?”

“Yeah,” you said before you could stop yourself “I feel a lot for you.” Your eyes widened, and your hand shot up to cover your mouth.

“I feel a lot for you, too.” His voice was soft, unsteady, but honest. “I have for a while. I’ve just been too scared to say anything. Oh, crap—what is happening?”

Sam groaned, snatching a napkin and carefully plucking the mistletoe from its spot. “I’m gonna burn it.” He headed for the door, leaving you and Dean standing there.