♡⸝⸝ 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒏,
summary,, dean sees you talking to someone else. someone that's not him. that makes him very jealous. word count,, 1,182 pairing,, dean winchester x reader genre/tags,, fluff, fun, poking fun at jealous dean, jealousy, speaking to someone else prompt,, "well, someone's cranky today." credit goes to @nightprompts! you can find it here
Dean’s just… a little off.
Not enough that Sam says anything. He’s too busy with his beer and whatever’s playing on the TV—but you notice. You always do. The way Dean’s quieter than usual, the way he watches the room instead of settling into it, the way his jaw ticks every now and then like something’s bothering him and he won’t say what.
You don’t think it has anything to do with you.
You’re at the bar, leaning against the counter, waiting for the bartender to come back when someone next to you makes a comment about the game. It’s easy, casual, the kind of conversation that doesn’t mean anything. You laugh, shrug, throw in a reply here and there. It’s just passing time, just noise to fill the space.
You don’t notice how long it’s been until your drink’s in your hand and the conversation’s still going.
And you definitely don’t notice Dean watching.
Not the way his eyes keep flicking over from across the room. Not the way he downs the last of his drink a little too fast. Not the way his shoulders have gone tight, like he’s bracing for something that hasn’t even happened.
It’s harmless. It really is.
By the time you excuse yourself and head back over, you’re still smiling faintly, still caught in the easy rhythm of it.
“Ready to go?” you ask, nudging Dean’s shoulder lightly.
He doesn’t smile back.
“Whenever,” he says, already reaching for his jacket.
You blink, just for a second, then fall into step beside him anyway. Sam trails behind, quiet in that way that says he’s noticed something and is very deliberately staying out of it.
Dean doesn’t say much on the way out. Doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t bump your shoulder like he usually would. Just walks a little ahead, hands shoved into his pockets, like he’s got somewhere better to be.
The air outside is cold enough to bite, but it’s not what’s making him tense.
You slide into the passenger seat, glancing over as he starts the engine. His grip on the wheel is tight, knuckles pale under the dim glow of the dashboard.
That’s when it clicks.
The bar. The guy. The way Dean didn’t come over. The way he didn’t interrupt.
A slow smile tugs at your mouth before you can stop it.
Oh.
“Well,” you say, turning slightly in your seat, voice light, “someone’s cranky today.”
Dean’s head snaps toward you for half a second, quick and sharp. “I’m not cranky.”
You hum, settling back against the seat, completely unconvinced. “Right. And I’m best friends with Beyoncé.”
“I’m serious.”
“Mm-hm. So am I.”
He exhales through his nose, turning his attention back to the road like that’s the end of it. Like he hasn’t been sulking since you left the bar.
You give it a second. Let the silence stretch just enough to be noticeable.
“You were talking to that guy for a while.”
There it is.mYou bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too obviously. “Yeah,” you say easily. “And?”
Dean shrugs, but it’s stiff, forced. “Just saying.”
“No, you’re not.”
His jaw tightens. “I am.”
“You’re not,” you repeat, softer this time, but there’s a smile in it. “You’re sulking.”
“I don’t sulk.”
“You absolutely sulk.”
He huffs, shaking his head like he’s done with the conversation, but you can see it. See the way his fingers flex against the steering wheel, the way he won’t look at you.
“You can talk to whoever you want,” he mutters. “I don’t care.”
You turn your head, watching him properly now. “Dean.”
“What?”
“You clearly care.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
You shift a little closer, elbow resting against the console, voice dropping just enough to feel a little more intimate. “You’re jealous.”
That one lands.
He looks at you then, properly this time, brows drawn together like you’ve just said something ridiculous—but there’s something else there too. Something a little too quick, a little too sharp.
“I am not jealous,” he says, and it comes out fast. Too fast.
You tilt your head, studying him. “Dean.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay,” you say, dragging it out slightly, like you don’t believe him for a second. “Then why were you staring at him like you were planning his funeral?”
His mouth opens. Closes again. Dean scoffs under his breath, shaking his head as he looks back at the road. “I wasn’t.”
You let the quiet sit between you for a moment, heavy but not uncomfortable. Not really.
“He was flirting with you.” He says softly.
The words catch you off guard, just a little. “With me?” you echo. Dean nods once, jaw tight again. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“And nothing,” he says quickly. “Just—” He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply. “Forget it.”
You don’t.
You watch him instead/ The tension in his shoulders, the way his grip hasn’t loosened, the way he keeps his eyes forward like if he looks at you, something might slip.
The teasing fades, just a little.
You reach out before you can overthink it, letting your hand rest lightly against his arm. He stills.
“I didn’t care about him,” you say quietly.
There’s a pause. Just long enough to matter.
“Didn’t?” Dean asks, and his voice is different now. Quieter. Careful.
You shake your head. “Didn't... don't. He doesn't matter.”
Another second passes, softer this time, like something’s easing.
“Kinda hard to focus on anyone else,” you add, a small smile tugging at your lips, “when you’re across the room brooding like that.”
Dean huffs, but it’s not as sharp as before. Not as defensive. “I wasn’t brooding.”
“Sure you weren’t.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Face it,” you say softly, nudging his arm this time. “You got jealous.”
“I didn’t,” he mutters, but it’s weaker now. Less certain. You grin, leaning a little closer. “You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Dean lets out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, like he’s losing the argument and he knows it. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, rolling his eyes slightly, but there’s a faint flush creeping up the back of his neck that gives him away completely.
And that’s it.
That’s the moment.
You soften instantly, smile melting into something warmer as you reach out, catching the front of his jacket and tugging him toward you before he can even think about what you’re doing.
The kiss is quick, a little impulsive, but it feels just right—soft and sure, stealing the last of his argument straight from his mouth.
Dean goes still for half a second, caught off guard.
Then he melts into it just as quickly.
When you pull back, you’re still close enough to feel his breath, to see the way he’s looking at you now—completely different from before. Softer. A little dazed. Definitely flustered.
You smile, just a little smug.
“Definitely jealous,” you whisper.
Dean huffs, but there’s no bite to it this time. Not even close.
“Shut up,” he mutters, but his hand finds yours on the console a second later anyway, like he can’t help it.
✧ 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.ᐟ // ✧𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 // ✧𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒃𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.ᐟ
