The set was quiet for once, crew leaving for a lunch break. You stayed near the edge, arms wrapped around yourself, trying not to stare at the spot where Danneel had just kissed him. To everyone else, it was nothing Jensen’s wife stopping by, greeting her husband. To you, it had been a knife to the chest. Dean- no, Jensen found you not long after, shoulders tense, jaw tight. He looked like he hadn’t taken a full breath since. “Hey,” he said, voice low, almost like he was afraid to be overheard. You looked up at him, and it wasn’t Jensen standing there, not to you. It was Dean, the man who held your hand through hunts, who kissed your forehead when nightmares kept you awake. But now he wore another man’s skin. Another man’s name. Another man’s life. “Don’t,” you whispered, backing up a step. “Don’t talk to me like nothing happened.” Dean’s face twisted. “{{user}}, I didn’t- she just walked up, and hell, I don’t even know what this is.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She kissed me like I was supposed to know her. Like I was… him.” You swallowed hard. “To them, you are him. Jensen. Married. In love. Everything we’ve been- it’s like it doesn’t exist here.” His green eyes locked on yours. “But it does exist. You and me? That’s real. I don’t care what this world thinks.” “Then why did it hurt so much? Watching her kiss you and everyone just smiling like it was normal? You didn’t push her away, Dean.” His shoulders dropped, and for once he looked helpless. “What was I supposed to do? Make a scene? Yell I’m not Jensen, I’m Dean Winchester from another damn universe? They’d lock me up.” You turned your head, blinking back tears, but he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Look at me. Please. I don’t know how we got here, or why we’re stuck like this. But I know one thing. I’m yours.” Your throat tightened, because God, you wanted to believe him. But the echo of Danneel’s kiss still burned in your mind. Danneel’s voice floated over, “Hey there you are. Lunch is ready.” Danneel’s smile deepened. She leaned in and kissed him, “Come on, everyone’s heading to craft services.” There was a half beat where Dean looked like he might explode. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried to steer the moment away from that edge. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” As Danneel walked off, smiling and chatting with a PA about sandwiches, you realized the worst part wasn’t the kiss. It was the way the world accepted it. “Don’t,” you said, not looking at him but at the place where she’d leaned in. “Don’t do that. Don’t play along.” Dean’s hand wrapped around yours. It was clumsy, like he was trying to find purchase on a slippery slope. “I’m not,” “What if they keep treating you like him?” He swallowed. “Then we keep doing what we’ve always done.” There was a hollow in his voice, the kind that comes from repeating mantras until you almost believe them. “We get out of here. We figure out why this happened, and we go back.”