In the kitchen's casual buzz, Sam busy with his reaserch at the nearby table, adding a touch of tranquillity to the scene. You and Dean, however, dive into a spirited cookie-making venture. Amidst the sweet chaos, Dean’s attempt to snatch a bit of dough is met with your swift hand, a scolding chuckle accompanying the playful rebuke.

When you spin around for another handful of chocolate chips, there stands Dean, now wearing a sheepish grin and a generous coating of cookie dough.

“At least it tastes good?” He offers, reaching over to swipe at your nose with a thin layer of dough, a chuckle leaving his lips at your expression.

It seemed like you were the woman he loved the most. He never acted like that with any woman. He was acting like a teenager again and Sam knew it more than anyone.