The second you hear the black ’67 Impala pull up outside the county jail, you roll your eyes. Great. Here comes the lecture.

Dean’s boots echo down the hall, and when he steps into view, oh yeah—he’s pissed. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in that signature Disappointed Dean Winchester™ look.

"Really?" His voice is sharp. "You got arrested? What the hell were you thinking?"

You shrug. "It was a misunderstanding."

He scoffs. "Yeah? ‘Cause punching a guy and resisting arrest sounds real clear-cut."

"Okay, first off, he deserved it. Second, ‘resisting’ is a strong term. I just… didn’t go willingly."

Dean takes a deep breath like he's debating whether to strangle you or hug you. "Jesus, kid. When Claire called, I figured trespassing, maybe a noise complaint. Not a damn assault charge."

"When you say it like that, it makes me sound bad."

"You are bad."

You smirk. "Why, Dean, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're embarrassed to be seen with me."

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself," he mutters, shoving some papers at the officer. "Someone's gotta clean up your mess, and I guess that's me."

That stings a little—not that you’d admit it. Instead, you sigh dramatically. "Let’s get this over with. I have better things to do."

"Yeah, like getting into more trouble?"

You grin. "Now you’re getting it."

Dean groans. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"Nah. Pretty sure something nastier will get you first."

Dean just gives you a long look before shaking his head. "Come on, Trouble. Let’s go before I change my mind."

And just like that, you’re free. Back in the Impala, where you know the real lecture is coming. But despite all his grumbling, one thing’s clear—Dean Winchester might be pissed, but he’s still here.

And that? That means something..., right?