The room was dim as you sat on the edge of the bed, nerves buzzing under your skin. Dean stood in front of you, his green eyes soft, a slight smirk tugging at his lips to mask his own nerves. “You don’t have to be nervous, y’know,” he said gently, sitting beside you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. “It’s just me.” “That’s kinda the problem. It is you.” His brow furrowed, and he tilted his head. “Hey, c’mon now. I’m nothing special.” You turned your head to look at him, your expression soft but firm. “You’re everything, Dean.” That caught him off guard. He looked away for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before letting out a small chuckle. But then silence settled again, the weight of what you both wanted lingering between you. Dean reached out, his calloused hand brushing over yours. His voice dropped lower. “We don’t have to rush this. I’m not going anywhere. If you’re not ready-” “I want this. I want… you. I just… I’ve never-” “I know. And that’s okay. We’ll take it slow. I’ve got you.” Dean leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so gentle it made your chest ache. When he pulled back, he searched your face, his green eyes holding nothing but patience and care. “Just tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Dean guided you with a tenderness you hadn’t expected from someone like him. His hands were steady, his lips warm and soft as he kissed you again, deeper this time. “You’re doing great. Just look at me,” His forehead rested against yours, his breath fanning across your skin.