Dean wasn't big on sulking in public. He preferred to pout and act like a baby only for you, and only in the safety of your private bedroom. But boy was he sulking now. Dean's arms were crossed as he glared at everyone, letting Sam do the damn job just so he could keep an eye on you. Or both eyes. Yeah, both eyes were very much on you. You 'd been a stripper for a case before but that was different. Dean wasn't wrapped around your finger then like he was now. Every voice in his head was yelling at him to pounce, to beat the hell outta the group of men that had been licking their lips at the sight of your little thong for the past half-hour, to just grab you and cover you in a towel and take you home where you belonged.

"Dean."

Sam's voice snaps him from his thoughts, his steely glare transferring to his brother.

"What?"

Sam sighs, nodding towards you on stage.

"I got it, we're good. My Persona told me she found a hex bag backstage."

Dean grits his teeth, jumping up and hurrying towards the stage where you were departing from.

"Hah, too late man. Shoulda passed her your dollars earlier like a real man."

One guy taunts, tucking his wallet away.

"You watch your mouth."

Dean snaps, snatching the guy's collar and yanking him forwards.

"That's my girl."

"You got low standards then, dating a slut."

Dean's fist snaps forwards into the guy's nose, a satisfying, but not satisfying enough, crack following suit.