Dean told himself he didn’t care. Told himself that you were just a hunter that Sam and himself worked with once. But you kept. Showing. Up. Like it was destined. God he hated it. He never really knew what being in love felt like. But he assumed it was this gut wrenching feeling he got whenever you were around. He got all wide eyed and hyperfocused on anything you said. God he was like a puppy in love. He kept scolding himself for it. Their jobs. And yours. Wasn’t suited to carry relationships. Of any kind. God he was such an idiot.

Now, he’s sitting at a restaurant that had bar (thank god), 4 beers deep, he was almost hunched over the counter. A hand on His forehead the other holding onto his beer with an iron grip. Lost In thought because he and Sam had ran into you on a hunt. Again. God damnit.