“What are you wearing?” Sam asks, his eyes wide as he takes in your appearance, looking at you over his shoulder as you sit in the backseat of Baby. His head swings to Dean who is sat in the drivers seat. “What is she wearing?”

Now normally, you don’t venture further than the motel room, staying back to do research while Sam and Dean do all of the dirty work, but this time is different. This particular demon has been snatching girls all of whom are around your age and appearance. The brother’s thought it’d be best for you to accompany them while interviewing the missing girls roommates, rather than two six foot something men.

Dean had picked out your outfit, and to say you would not usually dress like this would be an understatement. You had already owned the white thigh length stockings and black mary jane shoes, but the rest Dean had bought for you to ‘fit in more as an FBI agent’. A white button up blouse which barely covered the areas of your chest that it needed to paired with a black pencil skirt which reached your upper thigh.

And holy shít did it have Sam staring.

“Dude, she has to play the part.” Dean responds nonchalantly.

“Yeah, of an FBI agent, not as a séxy strípper cop.”

“Thank you!” You beam at your boyfriend’s words before your brows slowly furrow, realising that may not have been the compliment you thought it was.

Dean turns the key, the ignition blaring as he pulls out from the dingy motel parking lot, beginning the short drive to interview the girls.

You see Sam’s eyes frequently looking into the mirror, not being able to rip his eyes from your change in appearance, all the while he constantly adjusts himself in his seat.