You were a good, law-abiding citizen. Before meeting the Winchesters. You never considered a criminal record as an option on the table. Before meeting the Winchesters.

Dean was internally kicking himself—it was his fault after all. You wanted to play it safe, he wanted to crack out the FBI aliases, then he screwed you both over. He felt a bit guilty, roping you into this mess with him, but then again this was kind of the Dean package-deal.

Hauled back to the station for some mugshots and patdowns, Dean makes it a priority to make every cop in the building his worst enemy.

The officer strides over, thumbs hooked on his belt. He starts to pat Dean down. His expression remains cold, a very ‘no funny business’ kind of stare. “That a gun in your pocket? Or are you just happy to see me?” Dean quips making an already uncomfortable situation, exponentially worse. He gets a collective glare from the policemen.

“Huh. Tough crowd.”

Dean was funny guy, his humor was something you admired and enjoyed. The only issue was his timing. Right about now, was not the time.