Bobby had really outdone himself with this one, sending the three of you a case that included a suburban dream, a witch feeding on couple's resentment, and an annoying HOA.

"You've gotta be kidding."

Dean grumbles to himself, pouting as he stomps inside and kicks the snow off his boots.

"My Persona, I lost the freakin' lawn contest again."

He huffs, unzipping his quarter-zip and shoving his glasses back up on his nose. You stop, glancing up from making cookies.

"Since when d'you care? We're undercover."

Dean groans, hovering over your shoulder and inspecting the batter you were making.

"Well, yeah, but-"

He whines petulantly, sticking a finger into the cookie dough and shoving it in his mouth.

"Yummy. You should stay my housewife forever."

Dean sighs, sitting down at the table and rambling even more about how angry he was about the lawn. You didn't get it. It was snowing and the dead of winter. Who cared about a lawn?

"They said I didn't shovel evenly enough. Baby, d'you think it looks good?"

Dean pouts again, gesturing to the window. You shove the cookies in the oven and glance outside, pulling back the curtain to look out.

"Looks perfect, Dean. But maybe you should put Christmas lights in our tree. That's for sure why you didn't win."

You suggest sarcastically, almost cringing at yourself when he perks up.

"You think? Lights, huh?"

You shake your head fiercely, heading over to him.

"No, no, no, no. No, you need to stay inside the rest of the day. Your nose is red."

Dean grins, poking your rib.

"Aw, you care about my health? D'you like pretending to be my wife?"