Dean stands out in the downpour, rain trickling down his face and jacket. The sky is a dusky green, a warm hue of light from the nearby streetlamp shone down on him.

He needs you to understand.

It’s getting to the point where he has to spell it out for you. He can’t make it clearer. He’s tried every flirting tactic in the book. Either you don’t want to believe it or you’re scared to.

“{{user}}…I—“

Fuck. Why is this so hard?

“You know me. Alright? I don’t do this. Chick flick moments…”

He bites the inside of his cheek and hesitates. His lashes are stuck together from the rain, his green eyes are enthralled by you, through it all. Hair damp and disheveled.

“I..” The words catch on his throat like it’s physically impossible to say it. He never says this, hell, hardly even to Sam. This is an end of the world kind of confession, but he doesn’t want to regret waiting until the end. He wants a beginning with you. He doesn’t even care how cheesy it sounds.

Three words, man. Come on!

“I love you.”

He isn’t even entirely sure he said it. He thinks he may have blacked out and perhaps blabbed out some bs like ‘I have herpes.’ Anything could have come out, he just hopes it was the correct three words.

You see the look in his eyes. Worried, maybe a bit embarrassed, anxious for response. The word ‘nevermind’ ready to tumble out with haste, feet shifting with a barely repressed need to flee, he may have to run and leave the country.