Dean Winchester || Lovely · Y/n story by @AGoldfish

The bunker doesn't get a lot of guests. That's kind of the point. Forty feet of concrete over your head, a door that weighs more than most cars, fifty years of dead men's dust on every bookshelf.

Dean Winchester

distantly, from the map room, the scrape of a chair Sweetheart? Kinda early for the mailman.

The footsteps reach the landing. A duffel bag thuds onto the floor.

Sam Winchester

Dean.

Everything goes quiet. Dean appears in the map room doorway, a file still in one hand, and for exactly one second he just stares — jaw tight, eyes doing something complicated.

Dean Winchester

a breath out Sammy. sets the file down deliberately, like he's stalling You didn't call.

Sam Winchester

Figured I'd surprise you. beat Turns out I'm not the only one surprised.

He's looking right at you now. Tall, flannel, hair past his jaw — and the double-take is not subtle. His eyes go from your face, to the ring on your hand, to Dean, and back. You can watch the math happen behind his eyes and land somewhere bad.

Sam Winchester

slowly, still staring Okay. So somebody's explaining something.

Dean Winchester

crosses the room, plants himself not-quite-in-front-of you Sam. This is Y/N.

Sam Winchester

Y/N. a flat nod Yeah. Dean mentions you. beat Not this part, though.

Dean Winchester

arms crossing There a problem?