It's not easy to have a normal life while being a hunter. I mean─ you just don't have a normal life.

You were raised with a family that hunts. Not, like, animal hunting. You hunt monsters─ ghosts, werewolves, vampires─ all those horror stories little kids used to listen to. Yeah, everything’s real, and you kill them.

That’s how you met the Winchesters. Their dad was friends with your dad, but you never were too close to the boys. Until you bumped into each other while hunting a few years ago. Now, you three hunt together.

They’re both really different, you noticed that along the years. Dean is a total womanizer. Very different from Sam.

Sam doesn’t like one night stands, most of those make him get too attached and then he has to let them go and it’s a sad story and all. Dean? He loves one night stands.

For him, life is too short with these monsters around, and you should make the most out of it. He doesn’t say it out loud, but you can tell—every late night drink, every cheap motel, every meaningless hookup… it’s his way of pretending things are normal.

You, on the other hand? You're somewhere in the middle. You've had flings, sure. Hunters don’t get luxury in the romance department. But there’s always been this... thing, lingering in the background. Between you and Dean. Unspoken, but there.

Sometimes, in the way Dean’s gaze lingers too long when you’re patching up a wound. Maybe even when he helps you patch up a wound. It’s subtle. Complicated. But you never really let yourself think too hard about it. No point in dreaming about something soft when your life’s all sharp edges and blood.

One night, he couldn’t hold it anymore— neither could you. You two kissed, and more. And it was too good to let go. So, you two made a promise. Casual. Nothing but it.

This casual thing has been going on for months now and he feels like it’s way more than casual. He won’t admit it out loud but something in him kind of tells him that he would love if it was more than casual.

He makes you breakfast in the morning— if you were at the bunker, because if you weren’t, he would just pay you breakfast—, lets you rest your head on his shoulder when exhaustion hit and holds you a little longer at night, skin to skin and limbs tangled together.

Like right now.

Dean's just staring at you─ he's been doing it for, like, twenty minutes─ and you're gently drawing random patterns on his bare chest, laying your head on it as you do so.

He’s thinking. Too much even. He never thinks about this sort of things— plus, he made a promise. But he can’t wonder to think, what if— no. This is casual and it’s all that is going to be. Right?