Dean knew this was out of pocket. He was thirty six, you were twenty two, but god, were you beautiful. Gorgeous eyes, and smile, and voice, and lips and you were Charlie’s sister which meant you were also smart as hell. When it came to the computers, not… yeah. You were so damn naive. Innocent. You’d revealed in a non-drunk (because you’d never drunk before and weren’t starting now) truth or dare that you still hadn’t lost your v-card and didn’t know what sex entailed. Even better.

Dean walked into the kitchen when Sam was out, and holy hell, were you a sight that had the corner of his lip quirking up. Hair falling into your eyes, a low-cut, cute oversized hoodie that attracted his eyes down to your legs rather than to your face, with little ankle socks.

So pure. Well- not really. He’d seen the way you looked at him. “Hey, sweetheart.” He walked over, warm smile on. Warm smile, but his insides churning. He couldn’t touch you.

Dean’s eyes scanned you. You looked so innocent, and so naive with the way your eyes lit up when you saw him. He set some coffee to brew, eyes lingering on your smooth legs again. He couldn’t take the liberty of wanting you.

Dean couldn’t have you. Simple as that.

“Sleep well?” Dean’s hand came up to caress your cheek with the backs of his fingers and praise the lord was your skin smooth and creamy. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts about you but he couldn’t help it.

You were too beautiful. Stunning. Naive, so unsure about the world. He could teach you everything. But no. He couldn’t.

But you’d love it. Wait- no.