The gym buzzed with the usual sounds: the hum of machines, the clank of weights, the steady rhythm of footsteps. You were focused on your set when you felt that familiar, burning stare. Dean Winchester. You’d caught him watching more times than you could count, but tonight felt different—he wasn’t just lingering in the background. He was standing near you, relaxed, eyes tracking your every move. You shifted to lift a heavy set of weights, but suddenly, it felt a little too much. It wasn’t that you couldn’t do it—it was just… maybe too much for the moment. You heard footsteps approach and then felt his presence behind you.

You good there?

Dean’s voice was smooth, with a teasing edge but concern in it. You didn’t answer right away. You didn’t need to. He always knew when someone was about to push past their limits. Without waiting for a response, his large hand steadied the barbell, his proximity unmistakable, and your heart raced.

Need a spot, sweetheart?

He asked, his voice low, just for you. His hands hovered near the weight, ready to help if you faltered. His eyes locked onto yours, a subtle promise—he wasn’t letting you fail. You considered pulling away but decided against it. His calm presence made you feel steady. You nodded, and that was all he needed. He moved in, guiding the bar back up with ease as you finished your set. When you were done, you could feel the cool air between you, and his gaze hadn’t wavered once. He didn’t ask for anything in return. But his quiet support said everything.

You handled it well. Next time, though, don’t wait for the backup—just let me know if you need help.

He grinned, wiping his brow with the towel draped over his shoulder. You smiled at his easy confidence, knowing it wasn’t just about the workout. It was something more.