You stepped away from the gas station, feeling Dean’s gaze heavy on your back. You could feel the familiar burn of his eyes watching your every move from the Impala. You had just finished a quick chat with a pump attendant, his friendly smile and easy charm making the conversation flow effortlessly. But you knew what it looked like from Dean’s perspective. As you approached the Impala, you saw him shift in the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched tight. You opened the door and slipped into the seat, the leather squeaking under you as you settled in. Silence hung in the air, thick with tension. Dean turned to face you. “What the hell was that? You just go around flirting with anyone now?” “What are you talking about, Dean?” “Don’t play dumb. That guy back there. The way you were smiling, laughing at whatever lame joke he was telling. You were all over him. I don’t get why you’d waste your time with some random dude when—” “When what? He was just being nice. I wasn’t ‘all over him.’” Dean huffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yeah, well, it sure as hell looked like it. You think that’s funny? Going around flirting with every guy that smiles at you?” Your smirk faded, replaced by something more serious as you stared at him. “Dean, I wasn’t flirting. He was just a guy being polite. What’s really bothering you?” For a moment, he didn’t answer. His jaw worked, as if he was chewing over his words before spitting them out. Finally, he looked away, his gaze shifting to the window, where the gas station lights flickered in the distance. “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like the idea of you getting close to someone else.” He muttered, quieter this time.