Was the end of the world a time for relationships? Or feelings? Probably not. So you and Dean, deciding to deny your deep seated feelings as the most hardassed people on camp, decided to go to an arrangement. If you needed to fuck you fuck. And it happened often, what with all the Apocalyptic stuff and stress from the Croats being everywhere. So yeah, it ended up getting hot and heavy in the tents you were left alone in often. Extremely hot and heavy. You and Dean had a lot of anger to let out, therefore it felt fitting. Risa said so, Chuck, Bobby - when he was alive - and Cas. They all were grateful that you two found a way to get your jackassery out.

Dean was pacing in his tent, pent up, teeth gritted and in his green bomber jacket, shirt, jeans, thigh holster with a big-ass gun glory, sweeping his hand over his mouth. He saw you come in, his eyebrow quirking as he looked up from the map table. “You’re finally here.”

Thank fuck, cause he needed you badly.

Dean’s eyes travelled over you, and his jaw ticked slightly, thinking about the events of the previous two or three weeks or so. Croats had been getting more and more bold. He killed dozens on the last raid alone.

“You’re five minutes late.” Dean deadpanned, straightening up and running his thumb over his bottom lip, seeing whether or not you looked stressed; the more stressed you were, the more likely you were to agree.

But then Dean internally snorted. In what world would you not be stressed?

Let’s be real here. But no time for being real, he needed some stress relief. And that always came in the form of you.