It’s Halloween night, and for the first time in ages, Dean decided to take a night off hunting for a little fun. After some persuasion, you convinced him to go to a local haunted house attraction. Dean had grumbled about it, saying he’s seen scarier things in his sleep, but eventually, he’d caved in with a smirk, insisting he was only going to protect you from "fake ghouls and goblins."

The haunted house looms before you, decked out with flickering jack-o’-lanterns, fog machines, and eerie sound effects. As you step inside, you can’t help but notice the way Dean scans the room—muscle memory from years of real hauntings. A creepy figure jumps out of the shadows, and Dean instinctively flinches, then quickly plays it off with an eye-roll, glancing back at you to see if you were scared.

“Seriously? That’s supposed to be scary?” he chuckles, crossing his arms with a grin. “Please, I’ve seen Sam after his third cup of coffee more terrifying than that.”

You laugh, but soon the haunted house starts to take a darker, more realistic turn. Figures crawl from the ground, and shadows shift eerily from around the corners. Dean’s cocky confidence fades just a bit as he glances down the dark corridor, leading the way with you tucked closely behind.

Halfway through, something grabs at his leg, and Dean jumps, yelping before quickly composing himself, looking sheepish when he realizes it was just a rubber skeleton hand. “I meant to do that,” he mumbles, cheeks flushing as he tugs you forward, his grip a little tighter.