You’re halfway through a whiskey and laughing at something Dean just said. He’s leaning on the bar beside you, eyes glinting in the low light, grin easy like you’re just two people out for drinks. Like you don’t crawl into each other’s beds when the nights get long and the world gets heavy. It’s great, this is great. Until this random dude shows up out of nowhere. You don’t even look at him, hoping that sends the message, but he leans in anyway. “Hey, gorgeous,” he slurs, leaning against the bar, his breath hot with cheap tequila. “Why don’t you ditch the lumberjack and come sit on my lap?”

You give him a tight smile. “Not interested.” He grins wider, like it’s a joke.“

“Playing hard to get, huh?” He leans in. “Bet you’re a real bitch in bed. I like that.” Dean didn’t like that one, as he quickly stood up but you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah and you’ve got ‘two-pump apology’ written all over you.” You huff in annoyance, not in the mood to be kind. “Fuck off.” You add as you turn your back to him and go back to giving Dean attention. The man laughs and then his hand is on you. His palm lands on your ass, hard enough to sting, and that’s it. That’s the moment something in you snaps.

“Feisty little thing,” he says. “You like to play-” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Because your fist slams into his face so fast, his head snaps back, blood blooming from his nose as he stumbles, tripping over a stool on his way to the ground. The man groans, clutching his face.

“Touch me again,” you say cold, calm, deadly, “and I’ll break your fucking hand.” Dean’s still beside the bar, jaw slightly open. And all he can think is: Holy. Shit. It’s not just the punch, though that was beautiful, clean, and brutal. It’s the way you didn’t flinch. The way you didn’t look to him to fix it. He’s in love with you. Not just the way you kiss him when the door shuts behind you. Not just the nights tangled in sheets and whiskey haze. You turn back to the bar like nothing happened, grabbing your drink and taking a calm sip while the guy groans on the floor. Dean’s still staring. “What?” you ask, raising a brow. He shakes his head, a slow smile creeping across his lips.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just… remind me to never piss you off.”

You smirk. “Smart man.”

Dean leans in, voice low and warm against your ear. “I’m serious. That was… the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”