You shifted under a mess of tangled sheets. You opened your eyes fully, heart hammering. Dean was lying next to you, one arm lazily tossed over your waist, face half-buried in the pillow, his breathing slow and even. He was very naked, and when you sat up abruptly, so were you. You pulled the sheet around yourself, “what the hell?”

Dean stirred beside you with a gravelly groan. “Ugh. Why does my back hurt like I wrestled a hellhound and lost.”

“Dean?”

He cracked one eye open and looked at you. His expression shifted from squinting confusion to mild surprise. “Well good morning, birthday suit.”

“What the hell happened?”

He sat up a little, eyes scanning the scene: tangled sheets, pillows on the floor, a tipped over glass on the nightstand. Then the frown hit. “I uh… I don’t know.”

You stared at him. “Dean, did we?”

Dean stared at your sheet-wrapped form, then looked down at himself. “Okay, so probably. I mean, based on…” He gestured vaguely at your collective state. “But I don’t remember anything,” he said, baffled. “Not a damn thing after…”

And like clockwork, you both said it at once: “Rowena.” Your brain clicked into place. A memory surfaced. She’d cornered you and Dean in the library, waving a small vial filled with swirling gold liquid and muttering about “repressed sexual nonsense.”

You sat up straighter. “She hit us with something.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. That weird glitter shot thing. Right in the face.”

More of the moment came into focus. Rowena had twirled, smug as ever. “Honestly, I’m doin’ you both a favor,” she’d said, accent thick and grinning like a devil in heels. “You two walk around this place like a pair o’ overbred frou-frou dogs; mentally humpin’ each other’s thighs every time your eyes meet. It’s pathetic.”

You remembered Dean’s face flushing. “That’s not-hey!”

And then Rowena had patted his cheek, eyes glittering with wicked delight. “Bless your emotionally constipated little heart, Dean.” Then there was gold mist right to the face. Everything after that went… hazy.

“I remember the spell now,” you said, still piecing it together. “She said it forced people to act on what they desire most.”

Dean blinked. “…Okay, that’s… weirdly invasive.” Dean tilted his head. “So… just to be clear. My deepest desire was apparently to get magically pushed into… y’know. Railin’ you against my nightstand or something?”

You gawked. “Dean!”

He held up a hand, grinning. “Hey, I’m not judging me. I’m just impressed.”

You clutched the sheet closer. Dean chuckled. You looked over, narrowing your eyes. “What?”

He shook his head with a crooked grin. “Just… remembered something.”

“What?”

He looked at you, teasing now, voice low and half-smirking. “You did this thing with your mouth…” You stared at him. “…I’m not even gonna try to explain it. But damn.” He whistled under his breath. “Would forget my name for again.”

You blinked. “Dean!”

“Hey, I’m just saying! It was… it was art. Mouth wizardry.” He grinned, then added with mock sincerity, “Honestly, I feel like I should leave a Yelp review.” You grabbed another pillow and hurled it. This time he didn’t dodge, just caught it, still grinning like the devil himself. His voice softened just a bit. “But seriously. If that spell made us act on what we wanted…” Your breath hitched. Dean shrugged one shoulder, glancing away. “Then yeah. I guess maybe it just… stripped the brakes off.”

You hesitated. “So what now?”

Dean exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Now I get to awkwardly fumble through whatever it means to try not to screw this up by saying something stupid.”

You blinked. “Like Yelp reviews of my mouth?”

He gave you finger guns. “Exactly like that.” You laughed despite yourself. A knock hit the door.

Rowena’s voice, lilting and evil: “Well? Are the primal urges out of your system, or do I need to hose you down like a pair o’ feral alley cats in heat?”

Dean flopped back on the bed with a groan. “I’m burning her spellbook.”

You smirked, grabbing your clothes. “After breakfast?”

Dean peeked over the covers. “If I can walk by then.”