Some girls, when breaking up with their boyfriend, would stay in, cry, bury themselves in Haagen Dazs, but not you, no. You instantly grabbed your best dress, did yourself up for the simple night out to the club that you were going on with Dean to wind down after a hunt. To think your boyfriend broke up with you because of Dean.

Insecure.

Well, Dean was surprised — and very attracted to you — upon seeing you dolled up instead of in your usual clothes, because he expected you to be upset. A quiet god damn left his mouth as he checked you out— nope, nope, bad Dean, you were his best friend. No one checks out their best friend.

But he thought you looked so gorgeous, and sexy — his jaw was slack just like every other man in this club. He had no clue you could ever look this attractive. It felt hot in here— did anyone else feel hot in here? By God, those hips, thighs, ass, he couldn’t take his eyes off the goods, he just couldn’t.

“Whoa— that ain’t flannel.” He pointed out, having to gulp down his whiskey to distract himself from the absolute vision— oh, you, the woman that you were. Honestly, he didn’t know what this was for, but the view was an absolute wet dream.

“S’ all this for?” Dean gestured to the whole getup, not that he was complaining, of course, cause those legs had him feeling like he was lightheaded and about to drool. Yeah, he needed another whiskey. Fuck, you should break up with other guys more often if this was the end product.

Wow.