Sam and Dean had been chasing leads all day. The small town they were in was holding some kind of local festival, and the only person who could give them the information they needed was stubbornly refusing to leave until the event was over.

Dean, always impatient, grumbled about the waste of time, but there wasn’t much they could do. Sam suggested they stay for a while, watch the performances, and wait for their lead to become available. Dean reluctantly agreed, settling down in the crowd with a beer in hand.

That’s when you walked onto the stage. The small-town crowd cheered, and you smiled, picking up your guitar and adjusting the mic. Your eyes scanned the crowd, casually at first, until they landed on Dean. He was hard to miss—the rugged, handsome guy sitting next to his equally good-looking brother. You noticed the way Dean leaned back in his chair, his flannel rolled up at the sleeves, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Something about him caught your attention, and as you strummed the first few chords of your song, you decided to have a little fun.

You started with a slow, romantic rock ballad, your voice smooth and steady, carrying over the crowd. And though the song was meant for everyone, your eyes kept returning to Dean. Every now and then, you caught his gaze, holding it for a beat longer than necessary before looking away.

Dean noticed. At first, he thought it was just his imagination. But as the song continued, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were singing directly to him. Every time your eyes met his, there was a spark, a connection he couldn’t ignore.

As the set went on, you leaned into it more, choosing songs that spoke of longing, desire, and unspoken attraction. When the opening chords of “Night Moves” by Bob Seger rang out, the crowd cheered, and Dean’s head snapped up.

You locked eyes with him as you sang:

"I was a little too tall, could’ve used a few pounds... Tight pants points, hardly renowned."

Your voice was low and intimate, and Dean couldn’t look away.