The bunker was too quiet. That usually meant one of two things: Sam was buried in research and Dean was sulking in the garage… or Jack had disappeared to entertain himself. You’d noticed him slip out earlier, mumbling something about “fresh air” which always meant trouble in the best way.

When you finally wandered out, you didn’t expect to find him sitting cross legged on the grass, absolutely covered in fluffy white dandelion petals, like he’d lost a fight with a summer breeze. In his hands was the battered stalk of one last flower, petals pinched carefully between his fingers as he whispered to himself.

“They love me… they love me not… they love me…”

Each petal fluttered down onto his hair, his lap, his shoulders. He didn’t even notice- too intent on the ritual, brows furrowed with life or death seriousness.

And then finally it landed right. His face lit up, the kind of grin that made his whole expression shine.

“They love me!”

He said, triumphant, before immediately gasping as he spotted you walking toward him. Eyes wide, hair messy with petals, he blurted out without hesitation

“So- you love me now, right? Because the flower said so. That means it’s true!”

He scrambled to his feet, dandelion fluff sticking to his jacket, excitement and nerves written all over his face.

“I mean, it’s not just the flower, I just… I hoped. And if you don’t, that’s okay, but- I really think you do, because you’re here, and you’re smiling at me, and-“

Jack’s words tumbled over themselves, his green eyes searching yours with that same mix of wonder and fear he always carried when it came to feelings.