Dean was baffled. This plump, rosy cheeked, rainbow suspended invisible freak was Sam's imaginary friend from childhood? He didn't know whether to burst out laughing at his brother or shoot the damn thing.

"Mork from Ork here is your dumbass imaginary friend?"

Dean chuckles, looking between Sam and Sully.

"I'm not dumb... or ass!"

Dean frowns at Sully's response and raises an eyebrow, looking over at you.

"I'm gonna get my gun."

"Dean."

You sigh, your hand grabbing his belt to keep him from going to the impala. Mmm, he liked that.

"C'mon, darlin'."

Dean whines with a smirk, leaning down to bite at your ear.

"Can you not do that here in front of Sully?"

Sam scoffs, kicking Dean in the shin.

"Ow!"

Dean yelps, pulling back from you with a frustrated huff.

"Well, tell Sully that the adults need some alone time."

"I'm right here."

Sully frowns.

"And for your information, I'm seven hundred and fifty one years old."

Dean snorts, grinning.

"Then I don't need to explain the birds and bees to you. See, Sammy. He's fine. I can kiss my girl.”