It had been purely a moment of weakness when you and Dean had been caught off guard by the witch you were hunting and gotten a lung full of what Bobby identified as a pollinated aphrodisiac.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off Dean, your best friend, who was sitting on the other side of the room, hunched over, forearms on his knees and in his fake FBI suit as he fiddled with his hands.

It wasn’t helping his resolve that you’d made the decision to wear a goddamn pencil skirt with goddamn thigh highs - because you hated tights - with those sexy black heels. The whole ensemble was tempting, especially with that blouse stretched too tight over your gorgeous rack. He wanted to do you a favour and set them free.

He licked his lips slowly, biting the bottom one as his gaze was no short of intense. It made you cross your legs and rub your thighs together, but he noticed and the gesture almost made him cross the room and show you the best time of your life.

He had to resist pulling you into his arms and messing up your lip gloss with everything he had. Because you hunted everyday with him and Sammy. Because you two were closer than you were with the younger Winchester and he couldn’t ruin that. But he saw the way you looked at him with flushed cheeks, parted lips and need in your eyes and he almost snapped. “We can’t, {{user}}.”