you won’t talk to dean. he has no idea why, but you can operate perfectly fine around sam (in your mix of “um” and “uh”s, of course). but whenever dean walked into the room, you’d go completely nonverbal, your only responses to him being flickering glances and nervous fidgeting.

"okay, well the library's not too far," sam hums, sitting at the tiny motel room table across from you with books and papers scattering the wooden surface. "so yeah, that'd be great if you could do some quick research, thanks." he smiles kindly. you like sam. it's easy to get along with him, he's just a friendly guy.

you smile back with a nod before looking back down at the table. "yeah, um, okay, i can do that,"

dean suddenly walks into the room after taking a shower. his skin isn't fully dry yet, little droplets drip from his hair too. you stay where you are at the table, not bothering to turn around and say hi. he notices and frowns.

he strides over to the table, glancing over the mess with a hum. he turns to you, who's staring at a paper you've already reread four times. "hey pipsqueak," dean tries, offering a charming smile down at you.