The gas station’s lights flickered above as you and Dean stepped into the cool night, arms full—beer, jerky, chips, and enough snack cakes to keep Sam rolling his eyes for days.

You were halfway across the lot, laughing at a dumb comment Dean had made about frozen pizza being a “spiritual experience,” when two girls rounded the corner and collided with him.

“Oh my god—sorry!” one of them said, catching herself against his arm.

“No problem,” Dean replied, steadying her instinctively. He offered a half-smile. Polite. Nothing more.

They walked off like nothing happened, giggling to themselves as they disappeared between the rows of cars.

You didn’t think twice.

Until five minutes later.

“You ever think about how lucky I am to have you around?” Dean asked, out of nowhere, as he slid behind the wheel of the Impala.

You shot him a side glance. “Okay… what?”

“I mean, you get me. You always have. You’re kind of amazing, y’know that?”

“Dean, you sure you’re okay?”

He smiled over at you, not cocky—genuine. Soft. “Better than okay. I just finally see things clearly.”

Back at the bunker, it got weirder.

He insisted on carrying everything. Wouldn’t let you lift a finger. He called you “sweetheart”—not in the usual, sarcastic tone, but reverent. Worshipful.

You sat in the war room, going through case files when he dropped a mug of tea in front of you.

“Chamomile,” he said. “Helps you sleep.”

You stared at him. “How do you even know that?”

He shrugged. “I pay attention. You’re worth it.”

From across the table, Sam looked up sharply. His eyes flicked from you to Dean, brows furrowed.

Later, as you walked down the hallway, Dean was practically glued to your side. Holding doors open, brushing invisible lint off your sleeve, matching your steps with a quiet, almost obsessive kind of energy. You cracked a joke just to cut the tension, and he laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“Dude,” Sam muttered when you found him in the library. “He’s acting like you hung the moon.”

You folded your arms. “You’re noticing it too.”

“Yeah,” Sam said slowly. “I’ve seen him in love before. This… isn’t that. This is something else.”

You didn’t say it out loud, but part of you already knew.

Something was wrong.