You walked into the bunker’s library, a six pack beer in hand, expecting the usual—maybe Dean half-asleep in front of the TV. What you didn’t expect was the sound of his laughter, deep and easy, or the sight of him sitting across from a redheaded woman, both drinking and joking like old friends.

Dean glanced up when he saw you. “Hey! Perfect timing.” He got up and grabbed the beer bag from you, still grinning. “This is Charlie. Charlie, meet our newest hunter.”

The redhead gave you a once-over, her eyes sharp and amused. “So you’re the one.” She shook your hand, her smirk knowing, like she already had you figured out.

You forced a polite smile, jealousy bubbling under the surface. The way Dean looked at her—comfortable, relaxed—it stung. Months on the road together, near-death experiences, late-night talks... and he’d never looked that carefree with you.

Charlie laughed at something Dean said, then glanced at you. “You two gonna keep playing the will-they-won’t-they- game?”

You choked on your beer. Dean blinked. “Charlie—”

“What?” she said, shrugging. “I’m gay, not blind.”

Just like that, the weight in your chest cracked. Relief washed over you—followed quickly by embarrassment. Charlie winked at you and grabbed her mug. “I’ll leave you two to keep pretending you’re not obviously into each other.”

And just like that, she was gone, humming down the hall and leaving the air between you and Dean charged—and a little less crowded.