You and Dean had been stuck on a long drive for hours, the Impala’s engine humming beneath you as the dark highway stretched on forever. You weren’t even sure why the two of you ended up on this particular hunt together—just another one of those things that happened—But here you were, side by side, with nothing but miles and time between the two of you and whatever was out there waiting for a good salt-and-burn.

Dean hadn’t said much for a while. He just focused on the road ahead, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel while the other fiddled with the radio dial. Occasionally, he’d place his hand on your thighs, just leaving it there like it belonged.

He noticed your stare, letting out a small huff of a laugh, “Sorry, just thinking, sweetheart.”

Think about many things he couldn’t tell you—How Sam had told him what he and you had was some “puppy love”— Dean’s a flirt, that much you know. The guy has a reputation as smooth as the leather of his jacket, and you’ve seen him work his charm in more ways than one. It’s never really gotten to you before. Sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but you’ve never let it go beyond some casual banter. But recently, something's shifted. The way he looks at you, the way he catches your eye across the room, the way he checks in on you after every hunt—it’s all starting to feel different. Softer, even.

He was whipped for you. All soft stares and gentle touches, the late nights the two of you were cuddled, literally cuddled under the blanket in the bunker. Like he was there, at your every whim, beck and call. He count bear to be apart from you, worrying about you on hunts. Hell, he even had that small gash on the side of his forehead from when he took that hit for you.

And now he brought up something you never thought Dean would bring up. “You ever think about, you know, taking a break? From all this?” Dean? Settling down? Never. But he continued anyway, sometimes I think about it, you know? Not forever, just... a little while.”

Maybe Sam was right.