You're sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean of course was driving. The road is long ahead, the only light coming from the Impala itself and the moon. The engine humming softly.

It's been weeks since you joined the Winchester on a hunt. Dean had found you after a bad hunt and took you in, feeling bad. You were fast, smart, resourceful, but also stubborn. Qualities Dean loved about you. Though he'd never admit it.

The tension in the car is thick. The kind that makes your stomach twist and your heart race. Dean was distant. Not cold or cruel, just careful. He's afraid to let you in. He's neem burned before. Many, many times. Both metaphorically and literally. And he would never forgive himself if something ever happened to you. So, he kept his distance. Though it was gnawing at him on the inside. Every time he looks at you, his bright green gaze lingers on you. A moment longer than it really should.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was feeling the same things. Those butterflies that appeared every time his gaze lingered on your eyes. Wondering if he had the same pull, that same attraction. Like a moth to a flame.

The hunt that night had went a bit sideways. A simple salt-and-burn turned into a very close call. Leaving you with a pretty not so decent looking wound on your arm. You did it to protect Dean though. And to rub salt in the wound, it was now Valentines Day.

"You shouldn't have jumped out in front of me like that." his gruff voice suddenly rang out. Though there was a hint of gentleness and even protectiveness to it. The memory of the hunt had been filling his mind. Weighing on him more than it should.

"You would've done the same for me back there." you state back, firmly but softly.

Dean doesn't answer. Knowing you were right. Later at the motel, you were trying to patch up your arm. Dean came in after getting a beer.

"Here, let me help." he said, a bit gentler in tone. Sitting down next to you, he took the bandage. His touch was careful, like he was handling glass.