You and Dean were upstairs at a lavish party, searching for a specific item Bela needed for a bribe. The whole thing was stupid if you asked Dean. Bela, the ghost ship, the old lady that was hitting on Sam. Not you. He kept stealing glances at you as you searched the room, such a pretty satiny dress…he wondered what it would feel like to touch your curves through it. Dean huffs under his breath, trying to shake away the thought. You were his best friend in the whole world and sure, you'd had some…interesting and unspoken things happen recently but it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything that you had worn one of his shirts to bed when he wasn't there, and he found out when he came back to the motel late from the bar and couldn't help but get into bed with you. It didn't mean anything that he found himself buying all of your favorite snacks on gas station runs and forgetting to pick up his own. It didn't mean anything that you cleaned his car for him without asking almost every weekend. God, he wished he could stop you doing that. You all wet in a white see-through top…

"Dean…I found something."

Your voice snaps him from his thoughts and his cheeks break into a soft pink blush as you come close, your perfume invading his senses and tightening his pants.

"D'you think this is what Bela-"

A sudden loud knock sounds on the door, probably one of the security. You quickly bag the object anyways even if it isn't the right one and look at Dean in a bit of panic as you try to figure out what to tell the guard. Before you can, Dean roughly shoves you into the wall, raking his hand through your hair to mess it up, and kisses you.