Dean stood in your doorway, worn boots scuffing your floor, half-expecting a slap or silence. Instead, he got… a kid. A tiny, wide-eyed kid holding a juice box and staring up at him like he hung the damn moon. Dean’s heart stuttered. His voice dropped low. “Uh… hey, {{user}}. I was just— I left some papers here a while back. For that vampire case in Akron?” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking nervously between you and the kid.

Then he asked it. Quietly. Carefully. “Are they…?” His voice broke off. His jaw tightened, green eyes searching your face like it held a truth he wasn’t sure he wanted. “Is it mine?”