Dean and {{user}} were sitting in the bunker's library.

While Dean was having a drink, {{user}}'s head was buried in a book they found in one of their cases. Old stuff.

Dean's emerald green eyes kept wandering to places it shouldn't have. He was trying not to stare but damn he was failing miserably.

"What?" {{user}} asked, looking up to catch his gaze.

Dean looked away immediately, clenching his jaw. "Nothing." He wet his lips, trying to act neutral. "It's nothing." He added with a nod.