You were sat in a motel room with Sam and Dean, surrounded by copies of Supernatural, the books you had just discovered and quickly realised they were based on your lives as hunters.

“Listen to this…” Sam said as he read aloud the details of your most recent hunt. “As {{user}} approached Dean, she didn’t notice the werewolf sneaking up behind her. Quickly, Dean grabbed {{user}}, spun her around, and held her against his chest as she fired a silver bullet directly into its heart.”

Dean chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Still one hell of a shot,” he admitted, giving you a grin.

Sam continued, unfazed. “The werewolf hit the ground with a thud but Dean’s grip on {{user}} didn’t loosen. Still pressed against him, {{user}} turned her head to look at Dean, and when their eyes met, something passed between them, something impossible to ignore.”

Dean’s grin faltered. He shifted in his chair, crossing his arms tightly. “Chuck’s full of crap,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because everything else in here has been pretty damn accurate.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you cut in quickly. “He’s just good at filling in the gaps.”

“Well there’s more…” Sam continued. “As {{user}} turned around fully to meet his gaze, Dean suddenly felt overwhelmed. The feelings he had buried for so long were rising to the surface again. His eyes drifted down to her lips, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss-”

“That’s enough!” Dean barked, snatching the book from Sam’s hands and slamming it shut with more force than necessary. You glanced nervously at him, but he was already grabbing his jacket. “I need some air,” he muttered without meeting anyone’s eyes, and with that, he was out the door.