the suite at the peak resort was far too small for the tension radiating off the walls. dean stood by the window, his leather jacket tossed over the back of a velvet chair that looked far too dainty for his frame. he was fiddling with the silver ring on his finger, a prop for the part he had asked {{user}} to play, though the way he kept glancing at her reflected in the glass suggested he wasn't doing much acting.

"you didn't have to come," he muttered, his voice a low rasp that scratched against the quiet of the room. "i could've found another way in. a solo hiker or something."

{{user}} sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, smoothing out the fabric of a dress she hadn't worn in years. she looked at him, noting the way his broad shoulders were hunched, the muscles in his arms tensed as if he were waiting for an attack.

she had built a life with four walls and a steady heartbeat, yet one phone call from him had brought it all down.

"you called me, dean," she said softly. "you don't call unless the world is ending or you’re drowning. which one is it this time?"

dean turned, his green eyes dark and unreadable. he started buttoning a crisp dress shirt, his fingers moving with a practiced speed that faltered when he saw her watching him. "look, i know this is... a lot. we play the part, we get the ghost, you go back to your life. simple."

she stood up, the space between them suddenly feeling non-existent. the air smelled of his cologne and the familiar, faint scent of motor oil that never truly left him. she reached out, her fingers hovering near the collar he was struggling with.

"is it? because you're holding your breath every time i walk into the room, dean. you’re not that good an actor," she challenged, her voice steady despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs.

dean froze, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. he didn't pull away. instead, he leaned in just a fraction.

"maybe i'm just out of practice," he whispered, his hand settling tentatively on her waist, his thumb brushing against the curve of her hip. "or maybe i forgot how much i hate lying to you."