You and Dean were each others’ sneaky links, but it was something which hadn’t happened intentionally, it’d come up through multiple nights of hanging out, getting drunk on stolen vodka and waking up naked and with sore legs. Now you both made out in the comfort of either of your dorms, sometimes tumbled between the sheets, just to work off the stress of being students at Stanford. So, when you’d called him over, he’d been expecting to have sex, but guess not.

Instead, you’d just called him over cause there was a spider in the corner of your room that you just didn’t want to deal with yourself. And to think that you’d seemed so calm when you texted him the words ‘r u free’, an obvious sign to get his ass moving and to prepare for a good, long night. But no, you were standing on a chair while pointing at something invisible. You both needed better communication.

“C’mon, get down,” He scoffed, folding his arms and standing there unbothered— like hell would he be afraid of some creepy crawly, no, sir. But you clearly were, judging by how you were wielding a knife in defence, which was both a turn on and off, really.

He threw his hand up, huffing. “This is stupid, sweetheart.” Dean pointed out, and yeah, it was real stupid when you’d been screaming like a banshee. Granted, he didn’t want to force sex from you, that’s a really dick move, but at least he could stop this weird slapstick-esque routine of avoiding a spider.