Dean was sitting at the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots as you sat cross-legged under the sheets in just a t-shirt, watching him in silence as he prepared to leave. Again.

It was the same routine whenever he was in town, you’d meet up for a night of fun and then he’d be off again. It had started off as no strings attached, but as it continued, the feelings crept in. You knew you should’ve left the second they did, but you were addicted to him, and you would rather take the odd night every now and then, than nothing at all.

“Okay, I’m heading out now,” Dean said, standing from the bed and shrugging on his jacket.

“Right.” You nodded, forcing your voice to sound casual.

Dean paused, his brows furrowing as he looked at you. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine…”.

“You don’t look fine. I thought we had a great time.”

“We did,” you admitted softly, your fingers twisting the sheet in your lap. “That’s the problem.”

It took him a moment to catch on, his expression shifting into something guarded. “Sweetheart, you know how this works.”

“I know,” you said quickly, “I just wish you’d stay the night, at least.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Dean sighed heavily, sitting back down on the bed to face you. “It’s not that I don’t care about you,” He continued “You’re a good friend to me, {{user}}. But I can’t give you more. This life, what I do, it doesn’t leave room for relationships.”

“You don’t even want to try?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean glanced at you, his jaw tightening. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what I can’t give. People get hurt when they’re close to me. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe from what, Dean? From you?”

“Yeah,” he said after a long pause. “From me. From the life. From everything.”

“I get it. I do. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Dean reached out hesitantly, brushing a thumb across your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You deserve better."

He paused for a while before admitting softly. "I think maybe we should stop this.”