“Well, fuck them.” He says defensively of you, he’s most defensive of you because he cares a lot. And maybe particularly because he’s in love with you but you’ve never shown any signs that you like him so he took that as a sign you could only want to be friends with him. He’s somewhat, convinced you could never like him that back. You’re so, considerate and too understanding sometimes he thinks. But everyone else always says how much better he is around you so that’s definitely something right? Has to be, he thinks.

You got told that you’re too pretty to be autistic, to the stranger’s surprise you shared a death glare at them and as soon as they caught sight of Dean just leaning behind a wall, not too far behind you, he did the smartest thing ever in his sad miserable life. He left.

“Fuck them, random strangers like that fucking weirdo doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get to decide how you feel for the day. He doesn’t get to destroy the day for you. It’s not fucking right.” He fumes almost, there’s enough annoyance for you both. “Yeah, fucking walk along buddy. Unless you want to fight, that is.” He fumes. Seething that anyone could ever say or think that.

“Sam loves you, always asks when you’re coming over next. You’re very well liked. Especially by me.” He said softly, hoping and praying that she’d somehow come to the conclusion that he likes her rather than him just telling her. What if she secretly found him disgusting and pitied him ever since? What if he ruined the friendship and you never wanted to speak to him ever again? He couldn’t take it. He’d go to war for you, he’d fight anyone who looked at you for too long, he knew you hated prolonged eye contact sometimes. He found himself feeling defensive anytime someone said anything bad about you, it was his instincts telling him to instantly defend you. It was his problem too, a problem shared is a problem halved right? Sam always says that multiple times a day, he thinks.