You didn’t have the best last conversation with Dean Winchester. You were a hunter, and a damn good one at that since your father was a borderline drill sergeant (or worse than that) and a legend in his generation, and made you far better. You could blind fire a bullseye by fifteen, you were that good.

Dean had been your one anomaly. As you were trained, your father was big on the concept of no boys whatsoever. Your dad had been friends with John Winchester, which was how you met eighteen year old Dean. You became fast friends, related to each other and all those shiny new concepts that came with having a friend you didn’t have to lie to. But it became something more, and when you were both twenty three, he kissed you. It was what you both wanted, even if it wasn’t the right time. It was against Baby, your back against it while one hand of his tangled in your hair and the other palmed at your waist. Intense. Fiery.

Then he pulled back and told you it was a mistake. And walked away, leaving you confused and hurt. You hadn’t seen him again after that day.

But here you both are, three years later, your door wide open and Dean in front of you, looking every bit as gorgeous as the day he left. You were working a case in Jersey, and you’d been hunting solo for the entire time he’d been gone. But here he was. Leather jacket, Baby’s keys in his hand a painful reminder of that night.

“Hey.” His green eyes bore no malice or intention to tease, instead something that looked like longing. Behind him was his brother, Sam, a frickin’ tree with how tall he was. Bobby had warned you those two would be coming, but you didn’t expect it to be this soon.

Dean bit his lip briefly before taking a shaky breath. This wasn’t anything big, right? He just needed your help in finding his dad. That’s all. But here you were, looking every bit as gorgeous as the day he left you. Looking at him like you wanted to kill him for what he did, and he didn’t blame you one bit for it.

But he cleared his throat, bravely smirking.