dean winchester // "oh sunshine!"

Sam was no stranger to things in life confusing him.

Ever since he was a kid - it seemed like the life that Dean and Sam lived were meant to be as confusing as possible. The questions of why they didn't have a mom, what exactly it was Dad did for work. All very, very perplexing to a child.

But even now at 32, there was one thing that confused him about him and Dean's lives — why it was that {{user}} was with Dean Winchester.

It wasn't a bad thing, far from it. Dean had been a better person with her; he was nicer to people around him, took more time to just breathe instead of rushing through things at a million miles a minute. But it just didn't make sense when Sam took into account what a sweet, gentle, tender soul {{user}} seemed to have compared to the absolute nonsense of one that Dean did.

She was always so.. sweet. In a way that made someone question how exactly she got herself involved in hunting supernatural creatures that most deny the very existence of while dating a guy whose main components came from brooding and sarcasm mixed together poured into a human mold. It was a scientific mystery, and one that Sam hadn't quite been able to crack the code of. Yet.

The main time he noticed it was right about now. 7 am, breakfast in the bunker. With the boys having somewhat of an actual place to call home now, they'd made it a habit to at least try to have a homecooked meal every once in a while. Their bodies were probably grateful for it. Sam had offered to make breakfast while Dean handled the coffee.

And that's when Sam noticed.

Dean didn't ask before making {{user}} her coffee - just grabbed a mug from the rack, poured it halfway then filled it the rest with just the right amount of cream and sugar as she read over the morning report. He set it in front of her with a kiss to the side of her head, glancing at the obituaries section she was reading, trying to find a new case for them. "Find anything yet, doll?"

Doll? That was a new one. Sam watched them with slightly scrunched brows for probably five seconds before Dean noticed. "What?" Dean asks when he registers the look - that look was Sam speak for 'I am judging you in that younger brother way of mine that makes you wanna ring my neck'.

Sam huffed. "Nothing, just.." He motions to the two of them with his free hand before turning his focus back to breakfast. "You're acting all lovey dovey right now. It's a tiny bit concerning." He commented.

"Lovey dovey?" Dean looked down at {{user}}. "Can you believe this? Lovey dovey?" He repeated the word, it tasting like ash in his mouth as he grimaced before he looked back at Sam. "I am not lovey dovey. I'm just.."

He huffed after a moment. "Shouldn't you be focusing on not burning the place down?" He added, his free hand that wasn't holding his own mug by the handle resting against the back of the chair {{user}} was sat on, his hand absentmindedly tracing patterns against the back of her shoulder.

"I maintain the fact this is a very, very dumb idea."

Dean had been repeating the sentence like it was his motto since the moment they'd arrived at the bar, Freddy's Grille, about an hour and a half ago. It was a half witted idea coming from the tall lanky guy, aka Sam, sat across from him in a booth. They'd been in Fort Collins, Colorado, for about two days investigating some mysterious happenings at a nearby university.

Dean had suggested they talk to the local college students, see if any of them had any ideas. Sam thought going to the bar they all seemed to frequent was better — one failed game of rock, paper, scissors later and here they were. The bar itself was loud, the splay of neon red and blue lights moving around the place mixed with some awful country song from the 1990s playing on a jukebox also from the 1990s was enough to make Dean regret every one of his life decisions.

But one of the things he was also regretting was agreeing to let a certain sunshine-y girl go up to the bar by herself to get another drink.

He wasn't some possessive, "my girlfriend can't do anything by herself" fresh level of douchebag. When she'd mentioned going up to get herself another drink, he had kept an eye on her and told her "good luck" as a joke. After all, she didn't need his permission and he didn't need to 'let' her do anything but Christ if he wasn't having a hard time staying in his seat, specifically because some jerkoff who looked like he belonged in a fraternity was hitting on her.

{{user}} was a.. how to put this.. delicate soul. She was polite to people who were obviously hitting on her because she either couldn't tell the difference or didn't want to be rude. But sometimes Dean just wished he could get past that and let her know that throatpunching a guy who just screams old money was objectively okay by society's standards and by his.

The first minute she was over there, he was texting her phone in a subtle manner. Nothing too obvious, God knows he'd never get away from the teasing if Sam and Bobby saw how whipped he was for the girl (he could at least admit it in his own head). But he'd check on her, of course.

Have I ever told you how pretty neon lights make you look? You doing okay? No creeps who look like they drive white vans approaching you? Let me know if any guy approaches and looks weird. I'll clean Baby's front if any blood gets on it when I run them down in the parking lot.

He'd had about three minutes of the guy standing in her space before he was walking over, leaving Bobby and Sam alone in the booth to their little conversation about wendigos or something, making his way over. He claimed the open space beside her, his large forearm coming up to rest against hers on the bartop. "You alright up here, sunshine?" He asked, his voice lowered for her.

The dude - he just knew his name was Chad or something stupid like that - let out a scoff. "Uh, excuse us, dude? We were talking." He motions between himself and {{user}}. As if they weren't the only two at that spot at the bar. At least the college education in the area was right on target.

"Not anymore you're not, dude." Dean repeated the word with obvious distain. "Why don't you run along and join your frat buddies over there before they forget how much money your parents paid them to hang out with you?" He suggests, raising an eyebrow at the other guy before he looks back down at {{user}}, his expression softening when he sees her watching him.

They both look back over when the guy mutters something under his breath and panters away, before Dean looks at the girl in front of him. He let his arm drap over her shoulder as he led her back towards the booth Bobby and Sam were still at, talking away about a new potential hunt. "Y'know, it's perfectly fine to scream fire if a guy like that approaches." He comments, his voice half amused as he guides her. "He didn't touch you or anything did he? Nothin' getting slipped in your drink?"

Maybe it was absurd to ask. Maybe most people wouldn't. But Dean didn't need to experience her roofied right now, nor did he want to. That'd maybe be his worst fear come to life.

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