The wind outside the bunker howled, and the air inside was thick with the usual tension. Sam and Dean had gone out on a hunt, leaving you and Charlie alone for a rare moment of quiet.

It had been a while since you had really talked about everything—about the life you led, the dangers that lurked around every corner, and the feelings that neither of you had fully addressed.

Charlie was sitting across from you at the table, her laptop open, but her attention was on you. Her fingers tapped absentmindedly against the wood, her eyes scanning your face as if searching for the right words.

You could feel the weight of the silence, thick and heavy, like a storm waiting to break.

"So," Charlie said softly, breaking the silence. "I think it's time we talked about it. Really talked about it. Not just... discussing it once and never again."

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. You knew what she was getting at. But you were scared.

"About us," she continued, her voice a little steadier now, but still carrying that hint of uncertainty. "We've danced around it for so long. We're both scared—hell, I'm scared. But I can't ignore it anymore. I think... I think I'm in love with you. And I think we could do it—us—if we tried."