Cloveswifey

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Recent work: Dean Di Laurentis

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Hi, I’m Cloveswifey. This blog is where I post my writing. I love reading, writing angst, and Dean Di Laurentis.

CONTENT:

My writing contains smut, angst, which may contain emotional themes, and fluff, so read at your own pace and risk. I’m not responsible for how you interpret or react to anything you read here.

My work is mine. Please don’t copy, repost, translate, or publish anything I write on any platform. Don’t use my ideas, plots, or characters without permission. Respect the time and effort I put into my writing. I don’t do tags…

The Things We Left Behind

EX-Boyfriend Dean x Fem!Reader

Dean Dilaurentis Main Masterlist

Summary: Y/n is reminded of her breakup with Dean and her past emotions when Dean brings up a bracelet he found at Tucker's birthday celebration. Caution: Swearing, drinking, breakup, angst, and suggestive smut

My work is mine. Please don’t copy, repost, translate, or publish anything I write on any platform. Don’t use my ideas, plots, or characters without permission. Respect the time and effort I put into my writing. I don’t do tags… If something isn’t for you, feel free to scroll past

Even though it was a Thursday, the hockey house was having a party. It was Tucker’s birthday, and I knew I couldn’t skip it, even though something in me was telling me I really shouldn’t go.

I wasn’t sure if I could face Dean yet. I’d seen him around campus, of course, but I hadn’t actually spoken to him, and I definitely hadn’t gone to a party without him. The idea of walking into the hockey house and pretending everything was fine made my stomach twist a bit.

Either way, I was still mates with the guys. I couldn’t let Johnny Boy down, not when he’d been going on about this party all week, even if I did have to be up stupidly early in the morning. It felt wrong not to show up for him, even with everything else hanging over me.

He’d gone with a cowboy theme, probably because of where he grew up, and the whole place is likely going to look like someone had tried to turn Massachusetts into Texas overnight.

So here I was, sitting cross‑legged on my bed, mascara wand pinched between my fingers as I leaned toward the little mirror I’d propped against Hannah’s bedside table. My lashes were already half done, and I was blinking slowly, trying not to smudge anything. My stomach felt tight, like I was bracing for something I didn’t want to admit.

“What’s up with you?” Hannah asked. Her tone was light, but she wasn’t fooling anyone.

I glanced at her through the mirror. She was standing in front of her wardrobe, shimmying a pair of flared jeans over her hips. Her red plaid shirt was already on, tied neatly at the waist like she’d been waiting a long time for a cowboy theme. 

“Nothing,” I mumbled, blinking a few times to separate the clumps. “Just tired.”

She stepped closer, folding her arms as she looked me over. “You’re never this quiet when we get ready.”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes fixed on the mirror. “Didn’t sleep great.”

Hannah watched me for a moment, her expression softening. “Right. Well… you look good, so that’s something.”

I let out a tiny laugh. “Thanks.”

“Come on,” she said, smiling, "it'll be fun.”

I nodded, even though my stomach was still doing that weird twisty thing. “Yeah. Sure.” I then lowered the mascara and sighed, the truth slipping out before I could stop it. “I don’t want to go.”

Hannah leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She had a smirk on her face. “There it is,” she said, tilting her head.

I groaned and ran my hand through my hair. “No, seriously. I don’t,” I said, my voice getting louder.

“Yeah, you do,” she replied, nodding and stepping closer.

“No, I don’t.” I said it again, crossing my arms tightly and tapping my foot in annoyance.

She laughed, stepping back to grab her boots. “You do. You just don’t want to deal with whatever’s making you act like a sad little Victorian orphan.”

I rolled my eyes, but my chest tightened again. She wasn’t wrong. I turned back to the mirror, smoothing the ends of my hair with my fingertips, trying to make myself look more put-together than I felt.

It wasn’t the party itself. I’d been to enough hockey house parties by now to know exactly what I was walking into: sticky floors, loud music, boys shouting over beer pong. That part didn’t scare me.

It was Dean.

Just thinking about seeing him tonight had left this uncomfortable tightness that had sat under my ribs all afternoon. Like my body already knew something my brain was trying to ignore.

We’d only been broken up for about a month. That wasn’t exactly long enough for anything to feel normal again. Not long enough for your stomach to stop dropping when you spotted your ex across campus. Not long enough to know what to do with yourself when they walked into a room and your whole body reacted before you could tell it not to.

And definitely not long enough to walk into a party where he’d be standing in the kitchen, laughing with the boys, looking exactly the same and completely different at the same time.

I swallowed, forcing my gaze back to my reflection. My mascara was fine. My hair was fine. I wasn’t.

“I’m just a bit tense,” I admitted quietly, still fiddling with the mascara wand like it might distract her.

Hannah paused halfway through tying her boot, her expression softening in that way she does when she’s actually paying attention. “Because Dean’s gonna be there?”

I let out a tiny breath and nodded. She didn’t push. That was one of the things I loved about her. She could be loud and chaotic and nosy as hell, but when it mattered, she knew when to back off.

“You’ll be okay,” she said, smiling as she leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

I looked at her, frowning. “You can’t know that,” I replied, my voice shaky.

“I do.” She looked right at me, her confidence clear, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“How?” I asked, trying not to swallow hard, my throat feeling dry.

“Because you’re you.” She shrugged, a playful smile on her face, like that was enough to make me believe her.

I snorted, a small laugh escaping me. “Very convincing.” I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling a little at her confidence.

She grinned as she walked over, dropping onto the edge of my bed with a soft bounce. “It wasn’t meant to be convincing. It was meant to be true,” she said, smirking like she knew exactly how dramatic she sounded.

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. “You look really good, by the way,” she added, nudging my knee with hers.

I glanced down at myself, suddenly aware of every bit of my outfit. The grey plaid button‑up was slightly oversized, sleeves rolled to my elbows. We’d both nicked a few from the theatre department months ago and somehow never returned them. My denim shorts were simple, and the cowboy boots I’d dug out earlier made me feel like I was playing dress‑up.

“I look like I’ve stolen someone’s costume,” I muttered.

“We technically have stolen someone’s costume,” she said immediately.

Hannah then snorted, reaching out to flick the hem of my shirt. “Relax. You look cute. And honestly? Half the hockey house is gonna look like they raided a prop cupboard anyway.”

I let out a small laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a little.

“Hang on.” Hannah’s eyes lit up as she hopped off the bed, brushing her palms down her jeans. “I have an idea.”

Before I could ask, she crossed the room in three quick steps, yanked something out of her drawer, and tossed it at me. I caught it against my chest with a soft thud. A white vest.

I frowned down at it. “What is this?”

“Put it on,” she said, already smirking.

“Why?”

“Under the shirt.”

I stared at her, unimpressed. “Hannah.”

She pointed at me like a bossy older sister. “Just do it.”

I let out a dramatic sigh but pushed the plaid shirt off my shoulders, the fabric sliding down my arms. Hannah watched openly, chin propped on her hand, like she was supervising. I slipped the vest over my head, tugged it into place, then shrugged the button up back on. 

The moment I looked down, my eyebrows shot up. The vest had a much lower neckline than I’d expected. “Oh, absolutely not,” I groaned, shaking my head in disbelief.

Hannah burst out laughing, falling back onto the bed with a bounce, her hair fanning out around her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

“This is much lower than I thought it was,” I said, tugging at the neckline of the vest.

“It’s fine,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively.

“Hannah,” I said, my voice rising slightly.

“You look good,” she insisted, a teasing smile on her lips.

“I look exposed,” I countered, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You’ve got a shirt on,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow, with a shrug.

“Which is currently doing very little,” I muttered, glancing at my reflection with a frown.

She laughed again, leaning forward to adjust the collar of my plaid shirt, her fingers deftly fussing with it until she was satisfied, a look of determination on her face. “Stop worrying.”

I looked at myself in the mirror once more, smoothing the fabric down with my palms. It wasn’t terrible. It just wasn’t me. I wasn’t used to dressing for the purpose of being noticed. And tonight, the last person I wanted noticing me was the person I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Hannah reached up and tugged on the hem of my shirt, lifting it slightly before twisting the sides together and tying them into a neat little bow. “There.” She tilted her head, admiring her work like she was some kind of stylist. “Perfect.”

I smiled despite myself, watching her bounce off the bed and grab two cowboy hats from the desk. She tossed one toward me without warning. I caught it against my chest.

“Ready?” she asked, already slipping hers on.

I looked down at the hat in my hands, then toward the door. Not really. But I pushed myself to my feet anyway, brushing my palms down my shorts.

“I think so.”

“Good, cause Tuck’s been blowing up my phone asking where we are,” she said, waving her phone like proof.

“Shock,” I smirked, slipping the hat on and adjusting it so it didn’t look ridiculous.

Hannah laughed, nudging my shoulder as she headed for the door. And together, we left the room.

----

The hockey house came into view as we turned the corner, and I actually stopped for a second, a little stunned. They had really gone all out.

The place looked like absolute chaos. The guys had not just chosen a cowboy theme. They had clearly spent a few dollars, raided the theatre department, and tried to make the house as western as possible. I was almost certain the theatre club were missing a few props.

Rope was strung across the porch, sagging in the middle like it was trying its best to pass for a lasso. The string lights were tangled through it in a way that could not be safe. A few hay bales sat by the steps, but unevenly, like whoever stacked them got bored halfway through. Next to the door, a huge cardboard horse stood guard, although its head drooped to one side and looked a bit creepy.

Inside, I could see bandanas taped to the windows with what was definitely hockey tape. A handful of paper stars that were definitely handmade were stuck to the walls, some crooked and some upside down.

But what really caught my eye was what hung from the living room window. A massive banner that fluttered slightly in the breeze.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOHNNY.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, giggling as I pointed up at it. “Oh my god. Hannah. Look.”

She followed my finger, took one glance, and burst into laughter so loud it echoed down the street. “Stop. Stop. That’s incredible.”

“There is no way that was Tucker’s idea,” I said, still laughing. “Absolutely not. There's no way he knew about that." 

"Dean, definitely put that up," she said immediately, wiping her eyes.

“Oh, definitely,” I echoed without hesitation.

Then I swallowed, realising how quickly I’d said it and how easily his name came out. It still felt so natural on my tongue.

“See?” she said, giving me a proud little nod. “This isn’t so bad.”

“It’s been thirty seconds,” I said, looking over at her with a knowing look.

“And you’re still alive.” She smirked, tipping her hat like she was in a film.

I smiled, shaking my head as I brushed a bit of hair back behind my ear. She grinned wider, clearly pleased with herself.

We pushed further into the room, weaving through people until I spotted a familiar face near the kitchen. Garrett was standing with Logan, both of them talking loudly over the music. Hannah noticed them at the same time I did.

“There they are,” she said, her hand brushing my arm as she pointed.

I smiled properly for the first time since we had arrived. “Garrett.”

His face lit up the second he saw us. He lifted his arm in a wave, then opened both arms wide.

“There she is,” he said, grinning as I walked straight into his hug. He squeezed me tight, warm and familiar, before pulling back.

“It’s good to see you.” I smiled. 

“You too.” He gave me a quick once over, eyes flicking to my hat. “Nice hat.”

“Thanks.”

Logan laughed, shaking his head. “Very convincing, cowboy.”

Hannah stepped in beside Garrett, slipping her arm around his waist like it was second nature, and he rested his hand on her hip without even thinking about it.

I rolled my eyes at Logan before stepping forward to hug him too. He wrapped an arm around me, giving me a quick squeeze. I looked over his shoulder after chuckling quietly into his shoulder.

Everything inside me seemed to stop.

Dean.

He was standing across the room. I hadn’t even seen him when we walked in. Now I couldn’t look anywhere else.

He was talking to someone, leaning slightly to hear them over the music, one hand resting casually in his pocket. He looked completely at ease. Like tonight was just another night. Like I wasn’t standing across the room trying to remember how to breathe.

He had a cowboy hat on, jeans, and a light blue plaid shirt that matched his eyes. He looked good. Too good. My stomach tightened.

Then his eyes lifted. Straight to mine.

My stomach dropped.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His expression shifted, only slightly, but I saw it. Something flickered across his face before he looked away.

I swallowed, suddenly aware of Logan’s arm still around me. My pulse was thudding in my ears as my mind wandered away to that night. 

The music was too loud. That was the first thing I remembered.

Bass shook through the floor beneath my feet, someone was shouting over the music beside me, and the entire house seemed to be moving around us. People were packed into every room, drinks in their hands, laughing and pushing past one another.

His fingers tightened around mine for a second, a quiet little pull that brought me closer to his side. “You good?” he asked, voice low.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He dipped his head slightly, eyes flicking over my face like he was making sure I meant it. “Good. Stay close.”

I felt my stomach flip. “I am close.”

“Not close enough,” he said, shifting his hand so our fingers laced properly, his palm pressing against mine. The warmth of it travelled straight up my arm.

I smiled, unable to help it. “You’re being dramatic.”

He finally let out a small laugh, the sound soft and warm. “Maybe. But I like knowing where you are.”

We'd been together long enough that being around him had become easy, and I cherished the way he always seemed to look out for me. I knew when he was about to make some stupid joke. I knew the look he'd give me when he wanted me to follow him somewhere.

I knew him.

Or at least, I thought I did.

He pulled me towards the kitchen, where a group of his old friends were gathered around the counter.

Dean had insisted I meet some of his old friends.

The second we walked over, someone grinned. “Look who finally showed up.”

The guy speaking looked like trouble in the most obvious way. Tall, lean, sharp jaw, with stupidly perfect blond hair pushed back like he thought he was posing for a summer catalogue. He had that restless, cocky energy too, the kind that said he’d either flirt with you or start a fight and genuinely wouldn’t see the difference. His icy blue eyes flicked over me, slow and assessing, like he was deciding whether I passed some private test he’d invented.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't start." His hand tightened around mine, just slightly, like he’d clocked the way the guy was looking at me. His thumb brushed over my knuckles again, slower this time, almost claiming.

The guy smirked. “Good to see you, man.”

Dean nodded, but he didn’t let go of my hand. “Yeah. You too.”

The guy’s gaze dropped to our joined hands, then back up to my face. He didn’t bother hiding the way he looked me over, like he was trying to figure out how I’d ended up here.

I gave him a polite smile, the kind that said I wasn’t impressed. “Nice to meet you.”

He barely nodded. “So you’re the girlfriend.” His eyes dragged over me in a way that made it obvious he thought he was being funny.

I smiled awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Still together, then?” He asked it like he already knew the answer and was waiting to be entertained.

Dean laughed, not even looking at me. “Last time I checked.”

His old friends seemed to laugh at that.

I laughed too, mostly because everyone else did, but something twisted low in my stomach. The guy smirked like he’d won something, like he’d poked at me just to see if I’d react.

Dean didn’t say anything. He just kept smiling along with them, and I stood there wishing I didn’t feel so stupid for caring.

Another guy looked over at me, eyes dragging in a way that made my skin prickle. “How long’s this one lasted?”

I blinked, taken aback by how casually he said it, like I wasn’t standing right there.

Dean shook his head, grinning. “Fuck off.”

The guy smirked. “Just surprised you managed to keep one around.”

Dean laughed again, louder this time, like it was some old joke they’d all grown up telling.

A couple of the others joined in, nudging each other like it was all harmless fun.

I tried to smile, even though my stomach tightened. It was nothing. It was supposed to be nothing. I told myself that, even as the laughter kept going and Dean didn’t look at me once.

I stood there, pretending it didn’t sting, pretending it didn’t matter, pretending I wasn’t suddenly very aware that I was the outsider in a room full of people who knew exactly how to make me feel small.

"So," someone then looked at me. "Where you from?”

"England," I answered, and his friend’s face lit up immediately.

“That’s the accent.”

I frowned slightly. “What about it?”

“It’s good.” He said it like he was doing me a favour, like he’d just discovered something he could tease Dean about later.

Dean smirked. “She’s heard that about a thousand times.”

I looked at him, waiting for the usual softness he had when he said things like that. It wasn’t there.

There was something different about the way he was acting. Not with me. With them.

He seemed louder. More confident. Like he was slipping into a version of himself I’d only heard stories about, the one who used to run around New York with these boys, the one who didn’t think twice before laughing at someone else’s expense.

He nudged one of them, still grinning, and they all laughed like this was just how things were meant to be.

I stood there, trying not to feel like I’d just been pushed a little further out of the circle.

One of his friends slapped him on the shoulder, grinning like he’d been waiting to say it. “Didn’t think you’d ever settle down.”

Dean laughed, loud and easy. “Neither did I.”

The group cracked up again, all of them feeding off each other’s energy. I smiled because everyone else did, but it didn’t reach my eyes. My cheeks lifted, but the rest of me stayed still.

Dean didn’t notice. I stood there, trying to pretend it didn’t sting, trying to pretend I wasn’t suddenly very aware of how far away he felt, even with his friends crowding around him.

Later, I was standing beside him when a girl walked over.

I recognised her almost immediately. I’d seen her before, back in first year, on his socials, before we’d started dating. One of the girls he’d been with. The kind you remember without wanting to.

She smiled at Dean like they shared some private joke. “Dean.”

He looked at her. “Hey.”

She glanced at me for half a second, then back at him, already dismissing me. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“Yeah, just flew in.”

Her eyes moved over him, slow and familiar. “You look good.”

Dean gave a small laugh. “Thanks.”

She stepped a little closer, just enough to make my stomach tighten.

I didn’t like it.

Not because I thought he’d do anything. I trusted him. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the way the room shifted around us. The way she looked at him like she knew him better. The way he stood a little taller, shoulders looser, like he was slipping into someone he used to be.

I suddenly felt like I was standing outside something. Like there was a version of Dean that existed before me, and everyone in this room had met him first. Everyone here had stories I didn’t know, memories I wasn’t part of, jokes I wouldn’t get.

He laughed at something she said, and I watched the way his face changed. Louder. Sharper. More confident. The New York version of him. The one he never quite showed me.

I swallowed, trying to ignore the sting of it. Trying not to feel like I’d just been pushed out of the frame.

She touched his arm, fingers light, familiar. “You still play ice hockey?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I’ll come watch sometime.”

Dean smiled politely. “Sure.”

That was it. Nothing happened. He didn’t encourage her. He didn’t flirt back. He didn’t do anything wrong.

I stood beside him, feeling like I was watching a scene I wasn’t meant to be in. Like I was the extra in a moment between two people who had history, even if it didn’t mean anything now.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not really.

But then one of his friends called his name from across the room. Dean turned away from me. "What?"

"Come here."

He looked back at me. "I'll be two seconds."

I nodded. "Okay."

He walked away, and I watched him disappear into the crowd, and for the first time that night, I felt completely alone.

I pulled back slightly from the hug, letting Logan’s arm fall away. “You okay?” Logan’s voice brought me back.

"Yeah," I said it too quickly, brushing my hands down my shorts like that would make it sound more believable.

Logan glanced at me, his eyebrows lifting slightly as I kept my eyes locked on Dean across the room. “I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile.

“You sure?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah.” I didn’t sound convincing, even to myself.

Logan followed my gaze, and the moment he realised who I was staring at, his expression softened. He let out a quiet sigh, leaning in slightly. “Y/N.”

I finally turned to him, meeting his gaze. He shifted closer, lowering his voice as if to shield our conversation. “It’s okay.”

“I know,” I replied, trying to sound more assured.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said gently.

“I’m not pretending,” I insisted, though my voice wavered.

He gave me a look that said he did not believe a single word. I glanced back toward Dean. He was not looking at me anymore. Somehow, that almost felt worse.

There was something horrible about noticing every tiny thing about someone you used to know so well. 

The way he stood with his weight on one leg. 

The way he smiled at whoever he was talking to.

The way he pushed his hair back without thinking, fingers brushing the brim of his hat. 

All of it's familiar. All of it's too easy to recognise. My stomach tightened again. I hated that I still noticed.

Logan leaned closer, his voice low. "I can stay with you tonight, if you want."

I shook my head immediately, my heart racing. "No. It's fine," I replied, trying to sound convincing.

"Are you sure?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

"Yeah," I said, forcing a small smile.

"I just need a drink," I added, glancing toward the bar.

Logan raised an eyebrow, scepticism in his gaze. "A drink?" he repeated, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Yes," I affirmed, crossing my arms defensively.

"That's your excuse?" he teased, a slight grin forming.

"It's a perfectly good excuse," I shot back, trying to maintain my composure.

He smiled slightly, the tension easing a bit. "Right."

I nudged his arm playfully. "Go and bother Garrett."

"Gladly," he replied, his expression shifting to one of determination.

He gave me one last look, clearly still unsure, before turning back towards Garrett.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the moment.

Hannah then appeared beside me, slipping her arm through mine with a comforting squeeze. "You okay?" she asked, her voice soft and concerned.

I nodded, though my heart felt heavy. "Yeah." I looked across the room again, my breath hitching.

Dean was still there, and even though I knew I should look away, I just couldn’t help myself.

Hannah noticed where I was staring, her brow furrowing a bit before she gently tugged on my arm. "Come on."

"Where to?" I asked, my voice barely cutting through the music.

"Let’s find Tucker," she said, scanning the crowd with her eyes.

I let her pull me through the sea of partygoers, my heart racing as I focused on the chaos around us, grateful for the distraction.

We weaved through groups of people, laughter and chatter buzzing in the air, until we finally spotted him in the living room. He was behind one of the beer pong tables, a cup in his hand, grinning like mad when he saw us. He strolled in wearing jeans that hugged him just right, a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, rugged boots, and of course, a cowboy hat perched wonkily on his head.

I felt a grin spread across my face when he finally spotted us. "Tucker!" I called out, waving my arms like a lunatic.

He barely had time to turn before I ran over and wrapped my arms around him in a tight hug. "Happy birthday!" I squealed, practically bouncing on my toes.

He laughed, returning the hug with a warmth that made my heart flutter. "Thank you."

I pulled away, taking a moment to look him up and down, my eyes wide. "You look great."

"Obviously," he replied, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.

I snorted, rolling my eyes playfully. "Don't let it go to your head," I teased, rolling my eyes as I nudged Tucker playfully.

Hannah stepped forward and hugged him too, her grin wide. "Happy birthday."

“Thanks, Han.” He glanced between us, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “You playing?”

I shot a look at the table, my brow furrowing. “Beer pong?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, competitive chess.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “Fine.”

Tucker shuffled to the side, making room for us. “Get in.”

Hannah hopped to one side of the table, while I stood beside her, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach.

Tucker picked up a ping-pong ball, tossing it lightly in the air. “You’re on my team.”

“Why?” I asked, crossing my arms, feigning annoyance.

“Because I said so,” he replied, smirking.

“That’s not how teams work,” I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s my birthday,” he said, puffing out his chest like it was a grand declaration.

I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes. “Fine.”

“Good,” he said, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

We'd barely settled into place when Tucker looked towards the doorway. "Oh, perfect."

I followed his gaze. Dean was walking over.

He had a drink in his hand, and for a second I wondered if he'd been looking for Tucker. "Yo Tuck," he said, holding the drink up. "I got you a drink."

Then he saw me. He stopped. It was barely noticeable, but I caught it.

His expression shifted, his eyes staying on mine for a second longer than they should have. "Y/N."

My mind then began to wonder again, the same memory that always came back in pieces.

The music, the stupid comments.

The way Dean had laughed when his friends made jokes about me, like it was easier to laugh with them than admit they were being assholes.

And then his room.

New York.

The door had barely shut behind us before the tension that had followed us home finally snapped.

He wasn't having any of it, even tho I had already essentially told him how I felt in the Uber back.

I stood near the end of his bed, arms folded tightly across my chest, trying to keep myself together.

Dean was pacing in front of me, his footsteps uneven and restless, hands flexing at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

"You're being dramatic," he snapped, his voice cutting through the room.

I stared at him, stunned, my lips parting. "Excuse me?"

He stopped dead, running a shaky hand through his hair so hard it stuck out in all directions. "You heard me," he muttered, eyes darting away from mine.

"I heard you. I just can't believe you actually said it," I shot back, my voice trembling, anger and disbelief twisting together.

He threw up his arms, nearly knocking over the lamp on his dresser. "Because you're blowing the whole thing out of proportion."

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh, my arms tightening around myself like armour. "Oh, I'm blowing it out of proportion?"

"Yes," he bit out, jaw clenched, pacing again, this time tripping over his own shoes.

"You were being a dick," I said, voice low, my fingers digging into my arms until my nails left marks.

His eyebrows shot up so fast I almost laughed at the absurdity. "Oh, really?" he barked a humourless laugh, rubbing his forehead, smearing sweat across his skin. "We're calling each other names now?"

"You started it." My voice cracked. I shifted my weight, bumping into the bedframe, the mattress creaking under the pressure.

"I said you were being dramatic."

"Exactly," I spat, heat flooding my cheeks.

"That's not an insult," he shot back, voice wavering, eyes flashing.

"It is when you're saying it because I'm upset about something you did." I could feel my heart hammering, breaths coming in short bursts. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He looked away, jaw tightening so hard I thought he might snap. He shoved his hands into his pockets, knuckles white, body coiled like he might explode or fold in on himself.

I could feel my eyes burning, but I refused to cry. Not in front of him. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. I gripped my elbows so tightly it hurt.

"Your friends were so rude to me," I said, my voice raw and shaking as I swiped angrily at my cheek, refusing to let any tears fall. "They were making comments about my accent. They were making jokes about you actually keeping a girlfriend for once." I took a step forward, almost tripping over the edge of the rug. "And you just stood there laughing."

Dean fumbled with his phone, setting it facedown so hard it rattled on his nightstand. "I wasn't laughing at you."

"You were laughing." My voice cracked, sharp. I pressed my fists against my thighs to stop them trembling.

He dragged his hands down his face, smearing exhaustion across his features. "I was trying to keep things from getting awkward."

"By laughing with them?" I snapped, voice pitching high as I paced a frantic line near the foot of his bed, bumping into his laundry basket.

He threw his arms in the air, knocking an empty water bottle off the dresser. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Maybe say something?" I fired back, my breath coming out ragged. My heel caught on a discarded shirt, and I nearly stumbled again.

He scoffed, looking away, jaw twitching. His fingers drummed erratic, angry beats on the windowsill.

I stared at him, waiting, chest heaving, heart pounding so loud it felt like the room was echoing with it.

Nothing.

"Exactly," I whispered, voice hoarse, hugging myself tighter.

Dean looked back at me, his eyes wild and defensive. "What do you want me to say?" He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out in every direction.

"I wanted you to defend me," I said, my throat tight as I sank down on the edge of the bed, hands wringing the sheets.

"They were joking." He started pacing, shoes scuffing the floor, glancing everywhere but at me.

"They weren't joking with me, Dean." I clenched the bedspread until my knuckles went white.

"They didn't mean anything by it." He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You don't know that." My voice was barely audible, shaky. I tugged at a loose thread on the blanket.

"I know my friends," he said, voice hard, feet planted like he was bracing for a fight.

"And I know how I felt." I looked down, blinking hard, my leg bouncing uncontrollably. “They’re not even your friends Dean.”

His expression hardened. He folded his arms across his chest, turning away so I could only see the tense line of his jaw.

"Everything has to be about how you feel," he muttered bitterly.

I blinked, mouth open, breath catching. "What?"

"You heard me," he said, biting the inside of his cheek, refusing to meet my gaze.

"No, say it again." My voice trembled as I sat up straighter, hands gripping the mattress.

He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "Forget it."

"No. Go on," I pressed, voice rising, swallowing another sob.

"You've been looking for something to be upset about all night," he spat, finally looking at me, eyes blazing.

My mouth fell open, words choking in my throat. I pushed up to my feet, nearly knocking over his desk chair. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," he snapped, mouth twisted in frustration.

"God, you're such an asshole." I flung my hands up and a pillow tumbled off the bed behind me.

"And you're being pathetic." He jabbed a finger at the floor, pacing faster.

"I've been trying to tell you why I was uncomfortable," I said, voice catching as I wiped angrily beneath my eyes, "and you've spent the entire time telling me I'm overreacting."

"Because you are," he shot back, hands shaking as he gestured wildly.

I laughed, a sound sharp and broken, shoving a pile of laundry aside with my foot. There was nothing funny about any of this.

"Right. Of course I am."

Dean rubbed his face, fingers dragging down harshly, leaving red streaks on his skin. "I don't want to fight with you." His voice came out hoarse, almost desperate.

"Then stop fighting with me." My fists balled at my sides, nails biting into my palms. I took a shaky step back, bumping into the dresser, sending a bottle of lotion clattering to the floor.

"I'm not the one starting this," he shot back, voice rising. He spun away, pacing, nearly tripping over the shoes scattered by the bed.

"You told me I was dramatic." My voice shook. I kicked at a pile of dirty laundry just to have something to do with my feet, the tension buzzing in my muscles.

"Because you are acting dramatic." He flung his arms out, knocking a stack of books off his nightstand. They hit the floor with a thud, but neither of us looked down.

"And you're acting like a complete dick." I hurled the words at him, voice raw, grabbing the edge of his blanket and twisting it in my fists.

He stared at me, breathing hard. His chest rose and fell, frantic, as if he was about to lunge or bolt. The only sound was our breathing, ragged and uneven, echoing off the walls.

For a second, neither of us said anything. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. Dean’s jaw twitched as he looked anywhere but at me.

The silence somehow hurt more than the shouting.

Then Dean scoffed, loud and bitter. He looked towards the ceiling, rubbing the back of his neck so roughly it must have hurt. "So what? You're acting like you want to break up?"

The words hit me harder than they should've. I sucked in a breath, sharp and shaky, clutching my own elbows, trying to hold all the pieces of myself together. My knees felt weak; I leaned back against the wall, needing its support.

I went still. A lamp wobbled where I had bumped the table. Dean seemed to realize what he'd said almost immediately, his eyes darting to mine, wide with regret, but neither of us took it back.

I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers together until my knuckles turned white. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear anything else. Maybe I had been waiting for him to say it. Maybe I'd been thinking it myself.

"Maybe we should." The words came out cracks and splinters, barely above a whisper.

His face changed, eyes flashing. "What?" He stepped forward, stumbling over his desk chair.

I swallowed, mouth dry, brushing stray hair away from my damp cheeks. "Maybe we should break up." I could barely get the words out. My voice broke.

"No." He didn’t hesitate, voice breaking through the fog so quickly it almost made me look up.

"Dean…" My lips trembled. I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, trying to keep the world from tilting.

"No. Don’t do that." He lunged forward, hand half-raised, then let it fall, rubbing at his jaw instead.

"Do what?" I choked out, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand, leaving a streak across my face.

"Don’t just decide we’re over because we had one shitty night." His voice was ragged, cracking at the edges. He paced away from me, kicking a pair of socks under the bed as he moved.

"It’s not one night." I shook my head, shoulders hunched, knuckles pressing into my thighs as I tried to stay upright.

"Then what is it?" He sounded almost desperate, grabbing onto the bedpost, white-knuckled.

I looked at him, taking a ragged breath, blinking hard to clear my vision. "It’s everything." My voice was nearly gone. I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, shoulders shaking.

He shook his head, voice rising, "That’s bullshit." He slammed a fist into the wall, making the picture frames rattle.

"It’s not." I hugged myself, rocking slightly, eyes fixed on a stain in the carpet.

"You’ve been fine with me until now." He jabbed a finger toward me, lost and furious.

"I haven’t." Tears blurred my vision. I swiped them away, but more kept coming.

"You have." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, arms flailing, breath coming fast.

"I’ve been trying to be." My voice cracked, my body curling inward.

His expression faltered. He looked suddenly lost, hands falling to his sides. He watched me crumble but didn’t know how to stop it.

I looked away before he could see how close I was to breaking, blinking hard, shoulders trembling.

"I don’t feel like myself anymore." The words fell out, soft, almost inaudible.

Dean stepped closer, stumbling over a shoe, reaching out and then pulling back. "Don’t say that." His words shook.

"It’s true." I wiped my nose with my sleeve, shoulders shaking.

"No, it isn’t." He shook his head, voice pleading, hands pressed to his temples.

"It is." I tucked my knees up on the bed, hugging them, rocking.

"You don’t mean it." He crouched down in front of me, voice low and broken.

I finally looked at him, eyes red, vision swimming. "Don’t tell me what I mean."

His jaw clenched. He shoved away from me, pacing, knocking into a chair.

"I know you."

"Maybe you don’t." My voice was a whisper, body shaking.

"Don’t do this." He grabbed the back of the chair, gripping it so hard I thought it might break.

"I’m not doing anything." My voice was hollow. I stared at the floor.

"You’re ending us." His voice broke.

"I said maybe we should." I shrugged, feeling empty.

"That’s the same thing." His voice was sharp, exasperation cutting through the air.

My throat tightened. I pressed my hand to it as if that could stop the ache.

"I don’t want to keep fighting like this." My words sounded foreign, ragged.

"Then we won't." He almost shouted, hands flailing.

"That's not how it works." My voice was small. I pulled my knees tighter to my chest.

"Yes, it is." He sounded desperate, voice cracking.

"No, Dean." I shook my head, tears dripping down my chin.

"Then tell me what you want me to do." He knelt in front of me, face crumpling.

I stared at him, chest heaving. For once, he didn’t look angry. He looked terrified. That almost broke me more than anything.

"I wanted you to care," I whispered, voice trembling.

"I do." His voice was a plea, hands reaching for mine but stopping short.

"Then why didn’t it feel like it?" I pulled my hands away, wiping tears on my jeans.

He didn’t have an answer. His mouth opened, then closed again, eyes shining with frustration and tears.

I wiped quickly beneath one eye, sniffling. "I can’t keep doing this." My voice was broken glass.

"Don’t." He reached for me again, hands shaking.

"Dean." I shook my head, sobbing now, shoulders wracked.

"Please." He sounded like he was begging, something raw and unsteady in his voice.

I’d never heard him sound like that before. My chest ached. My vision swam.

"I love you," I said quietly, forcing the words out between hiccups.

He looked at me, eyes desperate. "Then don’t leave."

I shook my head, tears finally spilling over for real. "That’s the problem."

His face fell, shoulders collapsing.

Because he knew.

I could see it in his eyes.

We loved each other. And somehow, that wasn’t enough anymore.

I grabbed my bag from beside the door with shaking hands, nearly dropping it, everything inside rattling. Dean didn’t move, just watched, silent and broken.

Not this time.

And when I walked out of his room, slamming the door behind me, I knew that was the last time we’d be together.

The noise around us suddenly seemed louder.

"Dean," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Neither of us said anything, the air thick with unspoken words.

Tucker looked between us, sensing the tension. Then, thankfully, he stepped in, clapping his hands together. "You have to play with us."

Dean glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "What?"

"Beer pong," Tucker said, gesturing toward the table with a grin.

Dean looked at the table, then back at Tucker, his expression conflicted.

"I'm supposed to be giving you this," he said, holding out the drink.

"You can give it to me after," Tucker replied, reaching out to take the drink from Dean's hand before he could argue.

"Problem solved," Tucker declared, a triumphant smile on his face.

Dean laughed quietly, shaking his head, a hint of amusement breaking through his uncertainty. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes.

He turned to the table, scanning the setup. "I'll be on Tucker's team," he announced, stepping forward.

"Obviously," Tucker said, moving slightly to make room for Dean.

Hannah picked up the ball, her focus intense.

I watched her line up her shot, trying very hard not to think about the fact that Dean was now standing beside me, close enough that I could feel his presence without looking.

She threw the ball, and it bounced off the rim. "Fuck," she muttered, frustration evident in her voice.

Tucker laughed, shaking his head. "That's embarrassing."

"Shut up," Hannah shot back, a playful glare directed at him.

I smiled despite myself, the tension easing just a bit.

Dean glanced towards me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

I looked at him, my heart racing. "It's Tucker's birthday."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Right." There was a pause, the moment stretching between us. "Of course," he added, his voice quieter.

I looked back at the table, trying to focus on the game.

Dean shifted beside me, hands resting loosely in his pockets, his posture relaxed yet guarded. "I just didn't think you'd come," he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. "I nearly didn't."

His eyes flicked towards me, searching. "Why?"

I looked at him for a second, the memories flooding back, before shaking my head. "No reason."

He nodded slowly, a hint of disappointment in his gaze. "Yeah."

Neither of us said anything else, the silence heavy.

Tucker picked up the ball, breaking the moment. "Dean, you're up."

Dean looked away from me and towards the table, the game pulling him back into the moment.

"Right," he said, stepping forward, leaving me standing there with my hands wrapped around my cup, trying to pretend my heart wasn't beating far too quickly for a stupid game of beer pong. 

By the time we'd played a few more rounds, I'd completely lost track of the score, and I'd have way too many beers for my liking.

Tucker was still insisting we were winning, his words slurring together as he leaned heavily against the table.

"We're not winning," Hannah said, her voice slightly wobbly.

"We're absolutely winning," Tucker shot back, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"You've missed three shots," Hannah pointed out, rolling her eyes.

"Strategic misses," he declared, waving his hand dismissively, nearly spilling his drink.

I laughed, leaning against the edge of the table, feeling the warmth of the alcohol coursing through me.

The house felt warmer now. More crowded. The music had gotten louder, and there were people everywhere, swaying and laughing, making it difficult to hear anything properly.

Dean was standing beside me again, his posture relaxed but slightly unsteady.

Every now and then, he'd say something under his breath, usually just enough to make me laugh, his breath smelling of beer.

It felt strangely familiar.

Almost too familiar.

At one point, I caught myself smiling at something he'd said and immediately looked down at my cup, swirling the remnants of my drink.

Dean noticed, his brow furrowing slightly. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low and slightly slurred.

"Yeah," I replied, though my heart raced.

He studied me for a second, his gaze lingering. "You keep saying that."

"Because I am," I insisted, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

He smiled slightly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Right."

Tucker called for another round, but Dean didn’t seem to hear him. He was staring at my wrist, where my bracelet sparkled under the dim party lights.

I looked at him, confused. "What?"

He pointed at my bracelet and lightly touched my arm. It made me shiver. "Did you lose one of these?"

I frowned and shook my head. His gaze made my heart race. "No."

"Right, cause, I swear I found one in my room the other day," he said, lowering his voice like it was a secret.

I turned to him, curious. My heart fluttered. "You did?"

He nodded, a playful grin on his face. "Yeah."

"Which one?" I asked, leaning in closer, wanting to know more.

"I don't know. It's upstairs," he said, his eyes sparkling with a challenge.

I looked at him, feeling annoyed and wanting it back. "I want it."

He grinned, his eyes full of mischief. "Figured you would."

"Dean," I said firmly, crossing my arms and giving him a steady look.

"What?" he replied, pretending to be innocent, a smirk on his face.

I leaned in a bit, lowering my voice as the party noise faded. "Where is it?"

He glanced at the stairs, his face serious now. "In my room."

I hesitated. The idea of going upstairs with him made my stomach twist. I felt excited and scared at the same time.

"Come on," he said softly, leaning closer. His breath was warm against my skin. "I'll get it."

I looked back at Hannah. She was deep in a debate with Tucker, both of them laughing. Their joy felt so different from the tension between Dean and me.

I turned back to Dean, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

"Fine."

He smiled, looking pleased, and started to walk toward the stairs. His steps were a bit wobbly, like the alcohol had made him less steady.

I followed him, the party noise fading with each step. We were surrounded by muffled music and the sound of our footsteps in the hallway. The air felt heavy with unspoken words.

For the first time that night, it was just the two of us. That felt much more daunting than being with a hundred people.

Dean pushed his bedroom door open, stepping inside before holding it for me. I hesitated for half a second before walking in.

It looked exactly the same. At least, at first glance.

The same bed against the wall. The same desk beneath the window. The same hockey sticks propped in the corner, the same old hoodie thrown over the back of his chair.

For a second, it felt like I'd stepped backwards in time.

Then I noticed what was missing.

The photos.

I used to have pictures scattered around his room. Us at parties, stupid selfies, one from the beach that I'd always made fun of because neither of us was looking at the camera.

They were gone.

So were the little things I'd gradually left behind without even thinking about it. My hair tie that used to sit around his lamp. The book I'd left on his desk. The little bottle of perfume I'd forgotten one night, and chose to leave.

Nothing obvious.

Just a quick reminder that I used to be part of this place.

I glanced around again. "It feels just like before."

Dean shut the door behind me. "Uh, yeah."

My gaze drifted to the empty spot above his desk. "You took down the photos."

He paused for a moment. "Yeah."

I nodded, trying to act like it didn’t sting. "Okay."

He met my eyes. "I didn’t throw them away."

Surprised, I turned to him. "You didn’t?"

"No." He shifted a bit, the way he said it making me look closer. "They're just... somewhere else."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and I swallow. "Okay."

The room suddenly felt much smaller, and Dean glanced towards his desk. "The bracelet's in here somewhere."

I nodded, looking away from him. "Take your time."

He then crossed the room and opened the drawer beside his bed. "Found it." He held out the bracelet.

I smiled, taking the bracelet from him, my fingers brushing against his. "I thought I'd lost this."

"You did."

I looked up, confusion knitting my brows. "What?"

"You lost it."

I laughed softly, the sound light but edged with frustration. "Very helpful."

He smiled, but the warmth in his expression faded almost as quickly as it appeared.

For a moment, we were silent. The sounds of the party downstairs felt far away.

I put the bracelet on my wrist. The cool metal shone in the dim light. I turned to him, my heart racing.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"You're welcome," he replied, looking at me.

Neither of us moved. The air felt tense.

I should have gone downstairs to join the fun.

He should have opened the door to break the silence.

Instead, Dean stepped closer. His presence felt warm.

My breath caught. The world outside faded.

"Y/N..." he said softly, teasing me with a smirk.

I looked up at him, surprised by how familiar he felt. "What's with the look?" I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice shook a little.

He laughed softly, his eyes full of mischief. "Just thinking about how you used to get flustered when I teased you."

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. "I did not."

"Sure you didn't," he said, leaning in a bit. "You were always easy to read."

I felt my cheeks heat up and looked away, trying to regain my composure. "Well, maybe I've grown out of that."

"Is that so?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "You still look a bit flustered right now."

"Shut up," I said back, but I couldn't help but smile.

He leaned back a little, his expression softening. "It's good to see you. Even if you are still easy to tease."

I met his gaze, feeling a mix of emotions. "Yeah, it’s good to see you too."

We were silent for a moment. The air felt thick with unspoken words. I could feel his warmth and the scent of his cologne.

"Maybe we should stop dancing around this," he said, his tone more serious.

"Maybe," I replied, my heart racing, unsure of where this was going.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. He lingered for a moment before leaning in. The teasing atmosphere changed into something more serious.

As I closed my eyes, I felt a rush of emotions. His breath brushed against my lips, igniting a spark I thought was gone.

When he pulled back, the world around us faded into a distant noise. We didn’t say anything. The silence felt heavy with unspoken words.

We stood there, looking into each other's eyes, aware of what had just happened. The kiss was electric, reminding me of everything we once shared. But it felt different now. I felt the weight of our past, the memories of laughter and love mixed with the pain of our breakup.

I still wanted him.

I grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Our lips met again. He laughed softly against my mouth, and it made me feel excited.

"You'll regret this in the morning," he said, his breath warm and teasing.

"I know," I replied. I couldn't help but kiss him deeper. The spark between us was familiar.

It felt so good to kiss him again, like I was finally home. My fingers got lost in his hair. I could feel him relax as he held me close.

"Then..." he started, his voice low.

"Just kiss me, Dilaurentis," I said with a smirk. "I want you so much."

He paused for a moment, looking into my eyes. Then he kissed me again, his lips pressing against mine with a passion that took my breath away. The noise of the party faded away as we focused on each other.

As the kiss went on, I felt a mix of emotions, hunger, need, and a bit of fear. I pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. I realised we were crossing a line we couldn't go back from.

You can find one-shots of Dean Dilarentis here.

My writing contain's smut, angst, which may contain emotional themes, and fluff, so read at your own pace and risk. I’m not responsible for how you interpret or react to anything you read here. My work is mine. Please don’t copy, repost, translate, or publish anything I write on any platform. Don’t use my ideas, plots, or characters without permission. Respect the time and effort I put into my writing. I don’t do tags… If something isn’t for you, feel free to scroll past.

Winning with you

Dean AU Masterlist

Summary: A cute shopping date between y/n and Dean, pure fluff and teasing, no angst whatsoever!!

I slid my hand into Dean's as we went through the glass doors of the shopping center. "This was your idea," I reminded him, as he looked around at the business. 

It was a Saturday after all. 

Dean only shot me a lazy grin in return, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Correction. It was your idea. I just generously volunteered my company."

"You invited yourself," I scoffed with a small smirk.

"I know." His smile widened. "I'm a giver."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't stop smiling. He'd spent the entire walk over complaining that malls were designed to bankrupt college students while simultaneously promising he'd look devastatingly handsome in anything.

He then nudged me with his elbow and pointed at a mannequin wearing a loud sequined jacket. "Bet I could pull that off better," he said, catching my eye with a wink.

I laughed and bumped his hip with mine as we kept moving. 

Dean tightened his grip, his fingers interlaced with mine, pulling me slightly closer as a group of teenagers brushed past. 

We first wandered into the first clothing shop, and Dean immediately walked past every rack of men's clothes, his gaze remaining straight ahead. 

"You know this side exists, right?" I asked, gesturing to the menswear section as we walked by.

"I'm aware." He spoke, but he didn't even slow down, steering us deeper into the store.

I scoff. "You walked straight past it."

"I'm prioritising." He clarified as he flashed a quick, knowing grin down at me.

"Oh?" 

"You." He reached out, catching my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

I snorted, stepping around a rack of sweaters. "You sound ridiculous."

As we made our way through the small aisle between displays, he laughed and then leaned in closer. "I sound romantic." 

"You sound like someone who is about to get very bored watching me shop."

"Babe." He spoke as he put a hand over his heart with a look of severe injury as we came to a complete stop. "Watching you try on clothes is basically a hobby."

I laughed, circling around him to keep us moving toward the dresses. "That is definitely not why you're here."

"It's at least seventy-five percent why I'm here." He said cocking his head to the side as he followed right behind me.

I shoved his shoulder as we reached the women's section. "Pig."

"The respectful kind." He caught my wrist before I could pull my hand back, spinning me gently back toward him.

I raised an eyebrow, pausing beside a table of denim. "The respectful kind?"

"I respectfully appreciate my girlfriend," he said smoothly, stepping close enough that his chest brushed my back as he reached over my shoulder to flip through a stack of jeans.

"You are unbelievable." I ducked out from under his arm with a half smile, pretending to inspect a pair of trousers.

"I've heard." He chuckled, resting his chin briefly on my shoulder before backing off just enough to let me browse.

After thirty minutes, my arms were already stuffed with a cream-knit jumper, a sage-green cardigan, and a pair of jeans that I had been debating for ten minutes straight.

Dean, who insisted he wasn't my personal shopping assistant, trailed behind, carrying half of my pile. "You're making me work," he complained dramatically.

"I asked twice if you wanted to put them down," I said, glancing at the heavy bags hanging from his arms.

"You did," he replied, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"So..."

"I'm choosing to suffer," he sighed, shifting the weight of the bags.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. "Drama queen," I teased, nudging him playfully.

He gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "I prefer King."

Before I could respond, something glittering in a jewelry display caught my eye. I stepped closer, my curiosity piqued. "Ooh," I exclaimed, pointing at the sparkling piece.

Dean's gaze shifted instantly, and he tracked the direction of my eyes.

Nestled within the cabinet was a delicate silver necklace, a tiny letter D dangling from it. I leaned in, curiosity pulling me closer. "That's cute," I remarked, my fingers brushing the glass.

"It is," he agreed, stepping beside me.

"I like how simple it is," I added, tilting my head to get a better view.

"Hmm," he mused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

I grinned before taking a step back. "Anyway..." But I barely made it two steps when Dean swiftly caught my wrist, pulling me back. "Where are you going?"

"I'm just looking at the next shop," I replied, trying to pull away.

"You forgot something," he said, his tone playful yet firm.

"I didn't," I insisted, glancing back at him.

"You definitely did," he countered, a smirk playing on his lips.

I frowned, scanning the area around us. "What?" I asked, confused.

With a swift motion, he pointed towards the necklace still glimmering in the display. "You left that behind."

"I wasn't buying it," I said, shaking my head.

"I am," Dean replied, a determined glint in his eyes.

I blinked, taken aback. "Dean—" I started, but he cut me off.

"Nope," he said, crossing his arms confidently.

"It's expensive," I pointed out, glancing back at the necklace.

"So?" he shrugged, a playful smirk on his lips.

"I don't need it," I insisted, trying to pull away, my voice firm but my heart racing.

"I know," he said, stepping closer, his eyes locking on mine so intensely that my breath caught, and he shrugged as though it was nothing. "But you want it," he said, cocking his head slightly, a playful smirk playing around his mouth.

"I said it was cute," I said, crossing my arms tight over my chest, trying to protect myself from the warmth of his gaze. 

"You looked at it for nearly a minute," he interrupted with a raised eyebrow, his voice teasing.

“I didn’t,” I protested, arms crossed defiantly, though I could feel the heat creeping up my cheeks.

"You smiled," he said, eyes teasing, heart fluttering.

“So?” I shrugged, trying to act all normal, but my voice wavered a little.

"You only do that smile when you really want something," he said, leaning closer, steady in his gaze, with a knowing spark in it.

I looked at him, surprised slightly. "You saw that?" I raised my brow. 

"Babe." He clutched his chest like I had stabbed him. "I see everything about you."

My heart then did a stupid little flip like it always did when I was around him. I couldn't help but smile a little wider; the way he looked at me made me feel so seen in a way I never expected to.

"You really don't have to buy it, you know," I say softly.

"I know," he replied, a playful glint in his eyes, and with a gentle touch, he reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

"I want to," he said, a confident smirk spreading across his face. "And every time you wear it, you'll have a little reminder of your ridiculously handsome boyfriend, like a piece of me close to you, making you smile even when I'm not around."

Five minutes later, despite my protests, the necklace was safely tucked into one of our shopping bags and Dean looked far too pleased with himself.

We meandered through the bustling shopping center, the vibrant colors of clothing displays catching our eyes. Eventually, we found ourselves in another clothing shop, and Dean paused beside the men's section, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now," he announced with a flourish, "it's my turn."

"Oh? You finally wanna go into this section, hm?" I teased, raising an eyebrow as I leaned against a nearby rack.

"I considered it," he replied, cocking his head to the side, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"And?..." I prompted, crossing my arms and leaning in slightly, curious.

He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair before admitting, "I require... fashion advice."

"You? Mr. I-Look-Good-In-Everything?" I scoffed, unable to hide my smirk.

"I do," he interrupted, his tone serious yet so playful.

"So why do you need me?" I asked, with a small scoff, genuinely curious.

"Because you'll tell me when I'm wrong," he said, his gaze locking onto mine with a hint of sincerity.

"That almost never happens," I countered, a smirk creeping onto my face.

"Exactly," he said, his face showing both confidence and a bit of nervousness as he moved closer to the men's section, checking out the racks. 

I began rummaging through the hats, my fingers brushing against various fabrics until I caught sight of a sleek black baseball cap decorated with a tiny hockey stick on the side.

Excitedly, I lifted it off the rack, the cool material feeling smooth against my skin. "This one," I declared, holding it up with a grin.

Dean took it from me, a playful glint in his eyes. "You decided in under ten seconds."

"I have excellent taste," I replied, a hint of pride in my voice.

"I noticed." He slid the cap onto his head, adjusting it slightly before striking a dramatic pose, his chin tilted up and a smirk playing on his lips. "Well?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I folded my arms, trying to suppress a smile. "You somehow look even cockier."

"So it works," he said, his confidence radiating.

"It definitely works," I admitted, unable to hide my amusement as I took a step closer, the scent of his cologne mixing with the fresh air around us.

Dean leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "I look hot." He smirked, and I rolled my eyes, a teasing smile creeping onto my lips.

He chuckled softly as he watched my eyes, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So that's a yes."

I reached up, fingers brushing against the fabric as I adjusted the brim of the cap perched on my head. "I like it," I said as his gaze lingered on me.

His smile softened, revealing a hint of genuine admiration. "Then we're getting it," he declared, his tone playful yet resolute.

The changing rooms, which are my least favorite part, came next. Mostly because Dean insisted on waiting outside each and every cubicle.

 Im sure he would be in the cubicle with me if he had his way. However, I'm positive that would only end up with my thong down to my ankles.

"I’m not sure about this," I say, peeking out from behind the curtain.

"Just come out," he urged, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin as I stepped out, the soft fabric of my knitted jumper swaying slightly with my movement, paired with my flared jeans. "So?"

Dean's gaze flicked up, then down, taking in every detail slowly, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "...Are you trying to kill me in public?" He chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

Heat instantly rushed into my cheeks as I felt the warmth of Dean's gaze on me. "I don't know if I like the color," I said with a shrug, my fingers nervously tugging at the hem of the jumper. "It's just a jumper."

"It most certainly is not," he countered, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing playfully.

"It really is," I replied, trying to sound more confident.

"It hugs you in all the right places," he said, his voice low and teasing, as he gestured with a tilt of his head.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, glancing around the bustling store, feeling the eyes of other shoppers on us. "Dean," I whispered, a hint of embarrassment creeping in, my heart racing.

"What?" he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in slightly, closing the distance between us. "It does... Shows off those pretty tits of yours."

I gasped, my cheeks flushing deeper. "People can hear you," I said, biting my lip to suppress a smile, my hands instinctively moving to cover my chest.

"They've got ears," he shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head at his words, the sound of my laughter mingling with the chatter of the store. "You're ridiculous," I said, rolling my eyes, but I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips.

"No... I'm serious," he insisted, leaning back in his chair, his smirk deepening as he crossed his arms. "If you wear that around the hockey house, I might not be able to keep my hands to myself."

I nearly choked, my eyes widening in disbelief. "Dean!"

He looked at me with pure innocence, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "What?" he asked, leaning casually against the changing room doorframe. "I'll suddenly become very interested in staying home."

I buried my face in my hands, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "You have no filter."

"I do," he insisted, crossing his arms with a confident grin.

"No, you do not," I scoffed. 

"I filtered out the worse version," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can say way worse than that baby," He smirked. 

"Oh my God," I groaned, shaking my head, and he only leaned closer, his grin widening. "You're welcome."

Laughing, I then slipped back into the changing room, the soft fabric of the dress brushing against my skin as I pulled it over my head. A few minutes later, I emerged, twirling slightly to let the hem of the fitted summer dress sway above my knees.

Dean froze, his eyes widening in disbelief.

I waved a hand in front of his face. "You alive...?"

He blinked once, his mouth slightly agape. "I'm thinking."

"Dangerous."

"I was wondering whether I'd survive you wearing that."

"It's just a dress," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the flutter in my stomach betrayed me.

He stood up, his gaze intense. "Babe."

"What?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

"You've got approximately three seconds before I start charging admission because everyone in this store is looking at you."

I laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "No, they aren't."

"They absolutely are," he insisted, his voice low and teasing.

"They're shopping."

"They're appreciating art," he countered, a playful smirk forming on his lips.

I shook my head, unable to suppress a smile. "You're unbelievable."

"I know." He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against my arm as he lowered his voice, his breath warm against my ear. "I especially like the view from behind."

I playfully swatted his chest, a smile tugging at my lips. "Behave."

"I am behaving," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"This is behaving?" I raised an eyebrow, teasing him.

He leaned down, his mouth just a whisper away from my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "You should hear the comments I kept to myself."

My face burned, warmth spreading across my cheeks. "Your such a menace," I said, shaking my head, unable to hide my amusement.

"Your menace," he countered, a playful smirk on his lips.

I smiled before I could stop myself, the corners of my mouth lifting. "Oh shush it you." I rolled my eyes making him smirk. 

Around an hour later, we finally wrapped up our shopping spree. Or at least, I thought we were done.

The cashier began scanning my clothes, the beeping sound echoing in the bustling store. The total flashed across the screen, and I instinctively reached for my purse, my fingers brushing against the soft leather. But Dean was quicker, his hand darting to the card machine first.

"Dean," I said, a hint of protest in my voice.

"No," he replied, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"I can pay," I insisted, my heart racing slightly.

"I know," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I brought money," I reminded him, feeling a bit stubborn.

"I know," he repeated, his tone light.

"I don't need you buying everything," I said, crossing my arms defiantly.

He turned to me, his gaze softening. "I wanted to buy the necklace because you loved it," he said, nodding towards the jewelry bag nestled among the other shopping bags.

"I want to buy these," he said, motioning to the clothes stacked high in my arms, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Every time you stepped out of that changing room, you lit up when you saw yourself in the mirror."

A warm blush crept across my cheeks at his words, and I blinked, and his gaze softened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile. "I told you, I notice everything."

My heart raced. "Dean..." I trailled off.

He just shrugged, his hands casually resting in his pockets as if buying half the store was just another day for him. "I've invested in far less meaningful things."

The cashier chuckled quietly while Dean tapped his card, the soft beep echoing in the bustling store. Transaction approved. Before I could argue again, he effortlessly scooped up every shopping bag, the handles crinkling in his grip. "Come on," he urged, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I can handle a few bags."

"You've already taken on the challenge of dating me."

I rolled my eyes, letting out a playful groan. "That was a terrible line."

"I thought it had charm."

"It really didn't," I scoffed, and he intertwined his fingers with mine, giving my hand a gentle squeeze as we stepped out of the shop, the cool air hitting our faces.

The little jewelry bag peeked out from one of the larger ones, its shimmering surface catching the light. 

The silver D necklace sparkled, and I'd admired it for less than a minute, my fingers itching to reach out and touch it. 

He'd noticed, just like he'd noticed every smile that crept onto my lips, every second glance I stole at him, and every tiny hesitation I had while contemplating my next move all afternoon.

I squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. He glanced sideways, his brow slightly furrowed. "What?" he asked, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"Nothing," I replied, a playful grin spreading across my face.

"Liar," he teased, his voice low and playful.

"I was just thinking," I said, my heart racing a little.

"Dangerous," he replied, smirking.

I smiled wider, feeling a flutter in my chest. "I was thinking I got pretty lucky," I admitted, glancing up at him.

Dean stopped walking, his expression softening as he leaned in to steal a quick kiss, his lips brushing against mine with a familiar warmth.

"No," he murmured against my lips, his familiar cocky smile already returning, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pretty lucky I found that cap."

I laughed, the sound light and airy. "And this?" I asked, lifting our joined hands, admiring how our fingers intertwined perfectly.

The Three Ways That Brought Dean Di Laurentis To You... Coffee Girl

Dean AU Masterlist

Summary: The three ways Dean convinced y/n to go out on a date with her.

By the time my last lecture had finished, my brain felt like absolute mush. The queue spilling out of the only coffee shop on campus certainly didn't help improve my mood.

I sighed while checking my phone before slipping it back into my coat pocket as I joined the long line of people. Around five minutes later, I was finally standing at the counter waiting for my caramel latte.

It was noisy in here, and I couldn't help but feel bad for the baristas who had likely been overwhelmed by the rush.

"Well, damn." A playful voice came from next to me, and I turned slightly, frowning, to see a tall, athletic guy in an expensive-looking coat. His dark blonde hair looked unfairly good, even with the heavy rain that was pouring outside. 

He then flashed a grin in my direction. "Busy day?" he asked.

I glanced over my shoulder. No one was there. "...Me?" I replied, raising my eyebrows in confusion. 

"The one and only." He leaned closer, his grin widening as if he had just scored a goal. "You look like you'd run this place."

I blinked, caught off guard, and let out an awkward, breathy laugh as I shook my head. "I definitely don't."

"Yeah..." He casually pushed himself off the counter, maintaining eye contact. "I'll take a large black coffee." he said and I stared at him, slightly speechless.

"And if you're feeling generous," he added, unfazed by the confused look on my face, "maybe you could even write your number on the cup." He winked, his confidence radiating as he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed.

For a second, I genuinely wondered if he was joking or not, but he looked far too confident for that. 

"You have a dangerous smile, you know," he said with a playful smirk. "I bet you get tips all the time," he added, his voice trailing off as I instinctively looked down at my outfit.

I was in flared jeans and a red cotton jumper, my bag casually slung over my shoulder, and I wasn’t wearing an apron or a name badge. There was no coffee in my hands, nor did I have a campus café logo on my sweater. 

I coughed lowly under my breath before I slowly lifted one finger, pointing over his shoulder. "I think..." I said carefully, "...you're looking for her."

He only frowned in confusion before muttering. "What?"

"The barista." I say with an awkward smile, making him turn around. 

And of course, three feet away from us, an actual employee wearing a green apron stood behind the till, watching the entire exchange. 

His shoulders lowered in mild embarrassment as he said, "Oh," but then he laughed. A loud, completely unconcerned laugh as well.  

"Okay," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's on me."

As I accepted the coffee from the other barista who had just placed my drink on the collection counter, I gave him an uncomfortable nod. 

"Oh sorry," I say to the barista. "Can you make that another one?" I smile as he nods at me.

"So..." Dean looked back at me, still smiling like he already knew he was getting away with something. "You don't work here."

"I don't," I said, trying not to mirror his smile.

"Interesting," he muttered, and I raised my brows. 

"Is it?"

"A little disappointing," he adds. 

I folded my arms, mostly so I wouldn’t fidget under the way he was looking at me. "For you or for me?"

His eyebrows shot up. "There it is."

"There's what?" I asked, letting out a small scoff.

"The attitude."

"I think you mean common sense," I scoff. 

He laughed again, low and warm. "I like it."

"I'm sure you do," I sighed, even though part of me liked that he liked it. "You don't even know me."

Then, Dean grinned like he was letting me in on a secret. "You could hit me with a lot worse. I can take it."

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach flipped anyway. "You really think you're charming, huh?"

"I don't think." He leaned his shoulder against the wall, eyes still on me. "I know."

I tried to look unimpressed, but he caught the corner of my mouth twitching. His smile widened like he’d won something.

"Dean!" A barista called from the till. 

"You still want that coffee?" I say with a scoff, 

Dean pointed at himself. "See? She's already learnt my name."

The barista rolled her eyes, and he flashed her a grin before looking back at me.

"Guess that means introductions are overdue." He said with a small smirk, and he held out his hand. "I'm Dean."

I looked at it for a second before shaking it. "Y/N."

"It's nice to officially meet the girl who doesn't work in a coffee shop," he spoke. 

"It's nice to meet the guy who apparently can't identify uniforms," I shoot back. 

"To be fair," he said, "maybe I just wanted to speak to you." He shrugged. 

"Caramel latte for Y/N!" The barista called out, and I turned to grab the other drink that appeared on the counter. "That's me."

"So," he said, just watching me, "any chance I'll accidentally run into you again?"

"You'll probably have better luck if I'm not mistaken for staff." I say with a slight laugh. 

"I'll keep that in mind."

I smiled, giving a small shake of my head. "Try not to flirt with any more customers."

"No promises." He winked. 

"I figured," I said with one last amused glance. I turned and headed for the door. The cold air hit my face as I stepped outside, and for some reason I was still smiling. Mostly because that had been one of the strangest conversations I'd ever had.

Inside the café, Dean watched me disappear across the courtyard, his coffee completely forgotten. Girls usually smiled at him the moment he walked into a room, and most flirted back before he'd even finished introducing himself.

Though I'd laughed at him, I corrected him even. Taken the piss out of him without the slightest hint of being impressed. And before he could stop himself, he found himself grinning.

---

Three days later, I was sprawled across the rug in Hannah's room, half surrounded by open textbooks and half pretending I was actually absorbing the lecture notes in front of me. Our other two roomates, Sabrina and Grace, were off in the library to find a new book. 

"I swear this professor enjoys making us suffer," I muttered, highlighting the same sentence for what had to have been the third time.

Hannah looked up from her laptop, her face painted with amusement as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You've said that six times," she giggled, with a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"Because it's true," I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper, just as a loud knock echoed against the door, which startled us both. 

Hannah grinned. "That'll be Garrett." she smiled and I was left exactly where I was when she leaped up to answer it.

When the door opened, Garrett grinned and said, "Hey, babe." Before entering, he smiled and went down to give Hannah a kiss. 

He was then followed into the room by another figure, making me look up. "...You," I mutter, and Dean stopped in the doorway.

For a second he genuinely looked caught off guard; that was, of course, before that familiar grin spread across his face. "Coffee girl."

I immediately scoff at the nickname. 

Garrett raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to concern as he glanced between Dean and me. "Oh, no... You two know each other?"

"I wouldn't say it like that," I replied, rolling my eyes in annoyance.

Dean leaned casually against the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets, a smirk playing on his lips. "We've crossed paths."

"He thought I worked at the coffee shop," I said, rolling my eyes and letting out a dramatic sigh.

Garrett let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "No way," he said, trailing off with a smirk.

"Oh, yes," I shot back, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, trying to look all sassy. 

Dean jabbed a finger in my direction. "Okay, look, in my defence, she was totally behind the collection counter."

"I was just waiting for my drink," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"It was kinda misleading," he shrugged, a smirk on his face.

"There was literally a woman in an apron standing like two feet away," I shot back, crossing my arms.

"I've thought about my mistakes," he said, putting his hand on his heart, pretending to be all serious.

"You really should," I muttered, trying not to smile. 

Hannah glanced back and forth between us, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Wait a second." She pointed at me, her eyes wide. "You two have actually met before?"

"Barely," I said, shrugging as I tried to play it cool.

Dean nodded, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "She laughed at me."

"And what?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes dramatically.

Garrett was practically bouncing with excitement. "Oh, this is gonna be hilarious."

Hannah shook her head, a smile creeping onto her lips. "Dean, this is my roommate, Y/N."

Dean turned to me, his expression shifting to one of mock surprise. "So this is where you vanish to when you’re not around."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "I live here, genius."

"Even better," he smirked, leaning back against the wall like he owned the place.

I snorted, unable to hide my amusement. "For who?"

"For me," he shrugged, with confidence.

"Of course you'd think that," I mumbled, trying to keep my face straight but failing miserably.

Dean chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes. "I missed this."

"You missed me calling you out?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my expression serious.

"I missed hearing you talk to me." He corrected himself, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes dramatically.

"I didn't know there was a difference," I shot back, crossing my arms.

"Oh, trust me, there is." He leaned in slightly, his grin widening as if he was sharing a secret. 

Hannah and Garrett exchanged a look, and neither of them interrupted.

Dean dropped onto the empty beanbag opposite me, stretching his legs out. "So," he said. "What are we studying?"

"That's none of your business," I mumble, crossing my arms and trying to look tough.

"Ouch," he says, dramatically placing a hand over his heart like I just stabbed him.

I narrow my eyes at him, feeling my annoyance bubble up. "You're so annoying."

"Recently, I've heard charming," he corrects, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leans back against the wall, looking way too pleased with himself.

"I wasn't calling you charming," I scoff, rolling my eyes and trying to hide a smile.

"No, but I appreciate the effort," he replies, his grin widening.

I stare at him, my frustration mixing with a weird sense of amusement. "Do you ever stop flirting?"

He pauses for a moment, looking genuinely thoughtful, then shrugs. "I sleep sometimes." He says, causing Hannah to cover her mouth to conceal hers and Garrett to stifle a laugh.

I stared at Dean, my mouth slightly agape. "Seriously?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to process his cocky grin.

"What?" he shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Does that actually work on people?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Usually," Dean replied, leaning against the counter with that infuriatingly relaxed posture.

"You're so arrogant," I shot back, crossing my arms defiantly. He just leaned back further, looking way too comfortable.

"Confident," he corrected, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"You think every girl likes you," I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

"I don't think every girl likes me," he countered, his tone casual.

"No?" I tilted my head, genuinely curious about his response.

He smiled, that annoying, charming smile. "I know you don't."

I blinked, caught off guard. "...Excuse me?" I stammered, my heart racing a little. 

"You haven't smiled at me once since I walked in," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall with that annoying grin.

"I smiled because Garrett laughed," I shot back, rolling my eyes as I tried to focus on my textbook.

"You laughed at the coffee shop," he pointed out, his smirk growing wider.

"Yeah, but it was because of you," I replied, trying to suppress a smile.

"I still made you laugh," he said, leaning closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I groaned dramatically, throwing my head back. "This is exhausting. You're exhausting."

"You've known him five minutes," Hannah chimed in, glancing between us with a teasing smile. "Imagine how we feel."

Garrett nodded solemnly, trying to keep a straight face. "It never ends."

Dean ignored them. "So..." He looked back at me. "What'd I do to earn such a hostile welcome?"

"You walked in." I say, crossing my arms. 

"Ouch." He frowns, pretending to clutch his chest like I just stabbed him.

"And you flirt with anything that breathes," I add, raising an eyebrow at him.

His eyebrows lift in surprise. "Anything?"

"You flirted with me before you even knew my name," I say, trying to keep a straight face.

He shrugs, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "I thought you worked there."

"And that somehow made it better?" I raise my brows, giving him a sceptical look.

"I figured I'd brighten your shift." He cocks his head to the side, his grin widening.

I fold my arms tighter, trying to look unimpressed. "So your defence is you're hopelessly observant?"

"My defence is that you're memorable," he says with a cheeky grin, and I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts. 

"That line probably works on plenty of girls," I shoot back, trying to sound cool.

"It wasn't a line," he insists, leaning closer, his confidence radiating off of him.

"Sure," I scoff, not buying it.

"It wasn't." He leans back, arms crossed, looking way too smug.

"You expect me to believe that?" I challenge, narrowing my eyes.

"I don't expect anything," he replies, his tone casual. "I just enjoy proving you wrong."

I can't help letting out a quiet laugh, and he catches it immediately. "There it is again."

"What?" I ask, feigning innocence.

"You keep pretending you don't like talking to me."

"I don't." I try to sound firm, but my voice wavers slightly.

"Liar." He smirks, clearly enjoying this.

"I tolerate you," I say, rolling my eyes, but I can’t hide the smile creeping up.

"Progress." He leans in, looking pleased with himself.

"There hasn't been any progress," I retort, folding my arms again.

"I got two laughs today." He grins, clearly proud of himself.

"You counted?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Absolutely." He nods, and I can’t help but shake my head in disbelief.

Garrett, who’s been watching us, chuckles. "I've never seen someone argue this much within ten minutes."

Hannah laughs too, and I shoot her a look. "This is ridiculous."

Dean just shrugs, looking like he’s having the time of his life. "I like a challenge."

I glare at him, trying to look tough. "I'm not one."

"We'll see," he muttered, and I opened my mouth to answer, then stopped myself.

Garrett jumped up a bit later, snatching his keys off the table. "We should bounce."

Dean's face fell a little. "Already?"

"We've got practice," Garrett replied, his tone casual.

"Right." Dean pushed himself off the couch, stretching his arms above his head before glancing back at me with a playful smirk.

"It was nice seeing you again, coffee girl," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I shot him a sweet smile. "It was... something."

"I'll take it." He turned to head for the door but paused, looking back at Hannah. "Hey, you mind if we swing by here again sometime?"

Before she could respond, I jumped in. "I do."

Dean's grin widened. "I wasn't asking you."

"You'll regret it," I shot back, crossing my arms defiantly.

"I don't think I will." He flashed me one last smug smile, his confidence radiating as he followed Garrett out into the hallway. 

The door clicked shut behind them, and I let out a long sigh, rolling my eyes. "He's so unbearable."

Hannah laughed, plopping back down beside me. "You know... I've never seen Dean work that hard to keep a conversation going."

"He wasn't working hard," I replied, shaking my head.

"He totally was," I insisted, frowning. "He flirts with everyone." I shook my head and picked my textbook back up. "What an idiot." I mumbled. 

Garrett strolled down the corridor, nudging Dean playfully with his elbow. "So?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking a bit confused. "So what?" he replied, frowning slightly.

Garrett smirked, leaning against the wall with a casual air. "You're coming back because Hannah's my girlfriend..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...or because Y/N lives here?"

Dean didn't even hesitate. A slow grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. "I mean..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "It'd be rude not to visit Hannah."

Garrett burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're so transparent, man."

Dean shoved his hands deep into his pockets, a goofy smile plastered on his face. For the first time in ages, he felt like he was talking to someone who didn’t just swoon at his charm or compliments.

She felt different... something that made him feel grounded, like she was on a mission to deflate his ego a bit. 

He should’ve found it annoying really, but honestly? All he could think about was how he needed to come up with another excuse to swing by and see her again.

---

A week later we seemed to be seeing each other a lot more. I’d learned very quickly that Dean Di Laurentis had two settings: flirting and somehow making absolutely everything into a joke. Unfortunately, I’d also learned I was apparently incapable of ignoring him.

As we walked across campus towards Malone’s, Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and said, “I’ve been thinking.”

I turned my head slightly to him, a smirk playing on my lips. “Dangerous,” I replied.

His expression faltered, a hint of hurt flashing in his eyes. “You don’t have much faith in me,” he said, his tone almost wounded.

“I’ve got exactly the right amount," I shot back. 

Garrett, sitting beside Hannah, let out a laugh. “She’s got you there,” he chimed in, clearly enjoying the banter.

“See?" Dean clicked his tongue, a playful glint in his eyes. "This is what I deal with.”

“You bring it on yourself.” Hannah laughed, intertwining her fingers with Garrett’s.

“I bring charm.” Garrett shrugged with a grin, and I couldn’t help but correct him. 

“You bring headaches.” I scoff. 

“You’ve got a comeback for everything.” Dean spoke as his gaze met mine, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "Don't you..." 

I shrugged, a teasing smile on my face. “You make it easy.”

"I like a girl who keeps me on my toes.” He smirked, but I only rolled my eyes in response.

"I wasn’t trying to impress you," I say.

He grinned. “I know," he spoke, and his smile only widened as he added, “That’s why it’s working.”

I let out a quiet groan at his words, making Garrett laugh again. He then shook his head and said, “I swear, I’ve never seen Dean get shut down this many times.”

Dean leaned back against the wall, a relaxed smile on his face as he said, “And yet... she keeps talking to me.”

“I can’t exactly pretend you’re invisible,” I replied, crossing my arms.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “You could try," he teased, tilting his head slightly.

“I have,” I said with a breathy laugh, shaking my head.

He smirked, leaning in a bit closer. “Didn’t work.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “...Unfortunately.”

Dean chuckled softly to himself, running a hand through his hair as he leaned closer and said, “I’ll win you over eventually.”

I shot back, crossing my arms defiantly, “In your dreams.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. “They’re very bright-looking dreams.” I couldn’t help but laugh before I could stop myself.

Dean immediately pointed at me, his grin widening. “See?”

“Oh, don’t.” I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a smile. 

He leaned back slightly, still grinning. “You laughed.”

I shrugged, a hint of a smile escaping. “It slipped out.”

“I’ll take it.” He nodded, looking pleased.

“You would.” I remarked, shaking my head.

“I absolutely would.” He spoke as he leaned in a bit closer, his eyes sparkling.

By the time we reached Malone’s, I was already wondering why I kept letting him get the last word. The place was busy enough that we had to squeeze around a table near the back, snd music drifted through the room beneath the constant chatter of students escaping assignments for the evening.

Garrett disappeared to challenge someone to pool, and Hannah followed him with an affectionate shake of her head.

I stood up, stretching my arms above my head, and offered, “I’ll grab us some drinks.”

“I’ll come with you.” Dean automatically said, pushing himself off the table.

“You’ll distract the bartender.” I replied, with a small laugh, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve been told I’m very charming.” He said, a playful smirk on his face.

“I rest my case.” I shot back, shaking my head.

He laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender, and said, “Fine. I’ll stay here.”

“You do that.” I replied, rolling my eyes playfully, and I joined the queue at the bar, placing the order before balancing four drinks carefully between my hands, skillfully maneuvering through the bustling crowd.

The bartender handed over the last glass and said, “Thanks.”

I turned, weaving through the crowded room, when suddenly someone brushed hard against my shoulder.

“Oh, sorry!” they exclaimed, and the impact knocked me sideways.

“Oh!” I gasped as my grip slipped. In a split second, one of the glasses tipped completely forward, sending the entire drink splashing straight across the front of Dean’s grey T-shirt.

The table fell silent, and I froze, my eyes wide in shock.

Dean stared down at himself, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face,  “Oh my God,” I exclaimed, heat rushing straight to my face. “I’m so sorry,” I added with a slight swallow.

Dean slowly lifted his head and replied, “Well.” A grin slowly spread across his face as he said, “I was getting a bit hot.”

Garrett snorted into his drink, and Hannah laughed outright. I just blinked and asked, “You... you’re joking?”

Dean shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I usually am.”

I glanced at the mess on his shirt, my brow furrowing. “I’m serious, Dean.”

His expression remained light. “So am I.”

I shot back, “No, you’re not.”

With a casual wave of his hand, he replied, “I’m serious that I’m fine.”

“But your shirt...” I protested, gesturing toward the dark stain spreading across the fabric.

“It’ll survive,” he said, his tone dismissive.

“I literally soaked you,” I insisted, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I’ve had worse,” he shrugged, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I’ll buy you another one,” I offered, determined to make it right.

Dean tilted his head, his smile unwavering. “You don’t have to.”

“I do,” I replied firmly, crossing my arms.

“You really don’t,” he said, his voice softening.

“I feel awful,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, his gaze steady and reassuring.

“I’ll cover the drink,” I offered, my voice slightly shaky as I fumbled with my hands.

“It was only beer,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“I’ll replace the beer then too,” I insisted, my cheeks warming as I realised how flustered I sounded.

Dean leaned back against the bar, watching me with an amused expression, his arms crossed over his chest. “You done?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. “...Maybe.”

Dean rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, a playful glint in his eyes as he pretended to weigh my offer. “Hmm,” he mused, his gaze dancing with mischief.

I stood there, my heart racing, trying to gauge his next move. The air between us felt charged, and I could sense the anticipation building.

Finally, he leaned in slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose... you could make it up to me.”

I nodded immediately, my voice steady as I replied, “Anything.”

The grin that spread across his face should’ve warned me. Instead, I watched him with curiosity. “Go on a date with me,” he said, his tone casual yet so confident.

I blinked, taken aback, and asked, “...What?”

“A date,” he clarified, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

I stared at him, disbelief washing over me pretty quickly. “Are you serious?”

He shrugged, a playful smirk still in place. “I’ve been asking without asking for weeks.”

I opened my mouth, closed it again, and then burst into laughter, the sound escaping me before I could contain it. A proper laugh that made me shake my head in disbelief. “You’ve somehow turned me spilling a drink on you into asking me out.”

He chuckled, leaning back slightly as he said, “I prefer to think of it as making the best of an unfortunate situation.”

I couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

With a playful glint in his eyes, he replied, “I’ve been called worse.”

“You’ve definitely done this before.” I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. 

He shrugged. “I’ve never had a beer thrown at me as an opening," he said with a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“I didn’t throw it,” I corrected, my cheeks warming slightly.

He leaned in, his expression teasing. “You aggressively shared it.” Dean then shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and said, “I mean... I’m not complaining about the free drink.”

For some reason, I couldn't stop smiling; it all sounded ridiculous. Completely and unterly ridiclus, but somehow it was also dean.

He hadn’t teased me into saying yes. He hadn’t cornered me. He’d simply asked. Finally, he used an opportunity. 

I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I met his gaze. “...Fine,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s grin broke across his face like the sun breaking through clouds. “So that’s a yes?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “It’s a yes.”

“Perfect,” he said, his excitement almost boyish now, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as if he could hardly contain himself.

“Friday?” he asked, leaning slightly closer, anticipation radiating from him.

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re very confident.”

“You already agreed,” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“I know,” I said, crossing my arms, trying to appear nonchalant.

“So?” he pressed, his gaze unwavering.

I pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping my chin dramatically. “...Friday works.”

“Seven?” he asked, his voice filled with eagerness.

“Seven,” I confirmed, nodding.

“I’ll pick you up,” he said, and I shook my head, a laugh escaping my lips as I turned away, feeling a flutter of excitement in my stomach.

“You really have been working towards this since the coffee shop, haven’t you?” I asked.

He looked at me for a long moment before the teasing softened into something surprisingly genuine and said, “I figured it’d be worth asking.”

For the first time since I’d met him, he didn’t have another joke ready; he just gave me an easy smile. One that somehow made my stomach do something strange, and I smiled back before I could stop myself.

“Look at that,” Dean said quietly, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “That one’s definitely not pity.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I shot back, “Don’t ruin it.”

His laughter was soft, almost teasing, as he replied, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Garrett glanced between us, leaning toward Hannah with a playful grin. “Took him long enough.”

Oh, we're doing this now, Hm? 

Dean AU Masterlist

Summary: Following their recent argument, Dean and Y/N are still upset with each other. The group choose to visit a club off-campus. As the night goes on, Dean thinks of various ways to win her forgiveness.

You can read this on its own, but to fully experience it, I suggest reading Every Party, Every Time We Go Out... First.

The girls' dorm room was actually kind of chill for a Saturday night! Music was blasting from Hannah's speaker, and the four of us were just chilling in her room. Sabrina was sprawled across Hannah's bed, painting her nails a sparkly pink, while Grace was on the floor, digging through a mountain of Hannah's tops, trying to find the perfect one. Hannah was behind me at her desk, working her magic on my hair with a curling wand.

Grace's phone buzzed on the bed beside her. She reached for it with an absent smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she unlocked the screen.

"Logan's asking how much longer we're gonna be," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting as she read the next message.

A quiet laugh then escaped her. "Oh, and Garrett wants to know when to order the Uber because apparently 'they're getting snapped up.'"

Behind me, Hannah rolled her eyes so dramatically I could practically hear it. She clipped another section of my hair up before separating a smaller strand. "Tell Garrett to relax," she said dryly. "He's acting like Uber's shutting down for the night."

Grace laughed again, thumbs already flying across her screen. "I'll just tell them about an hour." She shrugged. 

"Make it an hour and a half," I muttered, slumping further into the chair, and Hannah let out a short laugh.

"You are definitely not taking an hour and a half," she spoke.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and sighed. "I'm not even dressed yet."

"Exactly." Hannah wrapped another strand of hair around the curling wand, concentrating for a second before looking at me through the mirror. "Which is why you're sitting still while I fix that."

A smile tugged at my lips despite myself. "I don't need fixing."

"No," Hannah agreed without missing a beat. "But your hair does."

Grace snorted, covering her smile with the back of her hand. "I've got to admit, she's got you there."

"Its not that bad," I huff. 

Across the room, Sabrina was half buried in the pile of clothes she'd dumped onto Grace's bed. She tossed one top over her shoulder before suddenly holding another one up triumphantly. "Found it."

Grace looked over immediately. "My blue top?"

"The black one or the blue one?" Sabrina spoke as she held up two hangers, one in each hand.

Grace squinted at both options, her head bobbing from side to side like she was trying to will the perfect choice to appear. "Ugh, I can't decide!"

"Blue," Sabrina chimed in, her voice bright and confident.

Grace's gaze shot up, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Really?"

Sabrina nodded enthusiastically, a playful grin spreading across her face. "It makes your eyes pop!"

Hannah gave a small nod of agreement as she unclipped another curl from the wand. "I was gonna say the same."

"Well... blue it is." Grace smiled, immediately taking the blue top from Sabrina.

The black top fell back onto the bed in a messy pile as Grace reached for her phone again. She scoffed, shaking her head, before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God," she exclaimed.

Hannah turned her head, curious. "What now?" she asked.

Grace glanced at the screen, her eyes widening. "Logan says Garrett's pacing."

Hannah let out a loud laugh, her amusement evident. "Of course he is."

"He knows if he rushes us," Hannah said with a playful grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "we'll only take longer."

"And yet," Sabrina replied, shaking her head with an amused smile as she continued to paint her nails, "he never learns."

Grace, still focused on her phone, typed out another reply before glancing up at the group. "I'll tell them we're nearly done," she announced, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Hannah paused mid-curl, raising a sceptical eyebrow as she looked at Grace through the mirror. "That's a lie," she said dryly, her hands still working on my hair. "He just likes to be on time," 

Grace shrugged, completely unbothered by the accusation. "It'll buy us five minutes," she reasoned, a smirk playing on her lips.

Sabrina rolled her eyes, correcting her with a laugh. "It'll buy us about thirty seconds."

Grace smiled innocently, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Thirty seconds is still something."

I couldn't help but laugh quietly, the tension I'd been carrying since last night easing. 

Hannah spun around to face me, a cheeky sparkle in her eyes. "So..."

The vibe in the room shifted, and I could feel the familiar tension creeping back in. 

I knew what was coming.

"What are you wearing tonight?" she asked, her voice all playful but kinda nosy.

I groaned and let my head flop back against the chair in frustration. "I have no idea," I admitted, feeling her stare like a weight.

"Hey," Hannah said, her tone a mix of serious and fun, "lean forward; you're going to mess up my curls." I huffed and leaned forward again, trying to go along with it.

She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "...Still not made up with Dean?"

I slowly shook my head. "No."

The room seemed to quieten for a moment before my phone buzzed on the desk beside me. All four of us glanced over instinctively, and Dean's name lit up the screen.

Deanie boy Can't wait to see what you're wearing...

I stared at the notification for a few seconds before pressing the side button, letting the screen go black.

I didn't reply, nor did I even open the message.

"You didn't even read it." Hannah spoke with a small sigh. 

I looked away from my phone, my chest tightening. "I don't want to."

She studied me for a second but didn't push, simply reaching for the next section of my hair instead. "I figured."

Grace glanced between Hannah and me before quietly picking up her makeup brush again, while Sabrina gave a small sigh and leaned back against the headboard.

"He really doesn't get how annoyed you are, does he?" Sabrina spoke softly.

Grace caught my eye in the mirror, her expression softening, setting her mascara down. "Has he texted you today?"

I glanced at my phone, where it'd been lying face down on the bed, and let out a quiet, humourless laugh. "Just a 'good morning' message."

Sabrina looked up from fastening one of her earrings. "He called too."

"I know."

She raised an eyebrow. "You answer?"

I shook my head. "I just... let it ring."

Sabrina gave a small nod. "I would've done the same."

Behind me, Hannah switched the curling wand off for a moment and rested it on the heat mat before meeting my eyes in the mirror. "I know Dean."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "So do I."

"No, I mean..." Hannah sighed, choosing her words more carefully this time. "I genuinely don't think he understands why you're angry."

"I know he doesn't."

Grace turned around in her chair to face me properly. "If he did, he wouldn't have sent a 'good morning' text like everything was normal."

"Or tried to fix it with one conversation," Sabrina added. "Dean likes sorting things out straight away."

I looked down at my hands, picking absent-mindedly at a loose thread on my sleeve. "I don't even want an apology right now."

"Then what do you want?" Sabrina spoke softly, and I thought about it for a second before answering.

"I just want him to get it." I swallow. 

To understand that it wasn't about the girl.

It was about standing there laughing with her instead of ending the conversation.

None of them tried to argue, they just looked at one another before Hannah reached over and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I think he will," she said quietly. "Eventually."

Hannah, then glanced around the room, then clapped her hands together with a sharp sound that made everyone stop what they were doing and look at her. "Okay, listen up!"

Grace looked up from her spot on the bed, where she was sifting through her makeup. "...What?" she replied, raising an eyebrow at Hannah.

Hannah pointed at each of us like she was making a point. "No more talking about hockey boys."

Grace blinked in disbelief. "But Logan just texted me!"

"And?"

"And... what if it's something important?" she shot back, crossing her arms defensively. 

Sabrina let out a quiet snort from the floor as she zipped open the small toiletry bag she'd brought with her. "It's Logan."

Grace started to speak up for him, but before she could say anything, Sabrina dug into the bag and pulled out four folded sheet masks.

The moment Sabrina pulled out the face masks, Grace's entire expression brightened. "I'm listening," she said eagerly.

"I knew you would be," Sabrina replied with a grin.

Hannah laughed as she began clearing space on the floor. "C'mon. We're having ten minutes where nobody mentions Dean, Logan, Tucker, or Garrett."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in her voice. "I can manage that."

Grace made a face, her uncertainty evident. "I'll try."

A few minutes later, the four of us sat in a circle on the floor, clad in oversized T-shirts, our identical green face masks covering most of our faces. Grace had somehow convinced us to paint our nails while we waited for the masks to work.

"You realise this is going to end badly," Hannah muttered as she unscrewed the nail polish.

"It'll be fine," Grace replied brightly, her confidence unwavering.

Sabrina extended her left hand, a hint of scepticism in her tone. "Don't make me regret trusting you." 

"She's finishing off your nails, not performing surgery," Grace shot back.

"There's a difference?" Sabrina challenged.

"There shouldn't be," Grace insisted.

Hannah carefully brushed the polish across Sabrina's nail, her concentration surprising. The room fell silent for a mere five seconds before Sabrina broke it.

"You've smudged it," she announced, her voice laced with accusation.

Hannah didn't even look up from her task. "I literally haven't."

"You were thinking about smudging it," Sabrina countered.

"I wasn't."

Grace burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as she leaned sideways into my shoulder. "You two sound like an old married couple."

"We'd kill each other," Hannah replied matter-of-factly.

"Probably," Grace agreed, her laughter escalating to the point where she nearly knocked the bottle of polish over with her elbow.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, catching it just in time and dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Watching them, I felt the corners of my mouth lift before I could stop them, and the conversation drifted away from Dean for a while.

Grace launched into a story about how Logan somehow managed to lock himself out of his room, wearing nothing but a towel. "He had to knock on Garrett's door," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Sabrina burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. "Please tell me Garrett answered," she gasped between giggles.

"Of course he did," Grace replied, barely containing her laughter.

"What happened?" I leaned in, curious.

Grace grinned wider, looking over at Hannah, who rolls her eyes but nods. "He answered, with only sweatpants on, and Hannah was covering herself with a blanket," 

Even I couldn't help but laugh at that.

"See?" Hannah chimed in, her smile brightening the room. "Much better."

As soon as we peeled off the face masks, it was go time. Hairdryers were blasting, straighteners were sizzling, and makeup bags were everywhere. Grace was chilling on my bed, blending eyeshadow like a total boss, while Sabrina was digging through my jewellery box like it was a treasure chest.

"You have, like, six pairs of hoops," she said, holding one up.

"They're all unique," I shot back, rolling my eyes.

"Um, no, they're really not," Sabrina replied, smirking.

"Well... they are to me," I insisted, crossing my arms.

Hannah popped up behind me, mascara wand in hand. "Look up," she said, and I did, feeling the brush tickle my lashes.

She leaned back, checking out her work before grinning. "There."

I glanced in the mirror. "...Okay."

"'Okay'?" Grace chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "Y/N, you look amazing."

"You always do," Sabrina added, her voice genuine. "You just don’t see it."

Hannah crossed her arms, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "And Dean's gonna realize what he's missing tonight."

I shot her a look, my cheeks totally heating up. "I'm not dressing up for Dean."

"I know," she said, her expression softening a bit.

Grace smirked knowingly. "But it wouldn't hurt, right?"

Sabrina nodded seriously. "You're not trying to make him jealous or anything."

"You're just showing him that messing around with random girls has consequences," Hannah added, giving my shoulder a light squeeze.

"It'll be fine," she reassured me.

I met her gaze in the mirror, looking for some hope. "You really think so?"

"I do," she said, her confidence kinda rubbing off on me.

Grace chimed in, "Dean can be such an idiot sometimes."

"But he's your idiot," Sabrina reminded me, a playful grin on her face.

"And once he actually gets why you're upset," Hannah said, "he'll fix it."

I glanced back at my reflection, feeling a tiny spark of belief for the first time since Malone's.

At the hockey house, Garrett glanced down at his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, his eyebrows pulling together as he refreshed the Uber app.

"These things are practically booked up," he muttered, showing the screen to no one in particular. "Someone text one of them and ask how long they're gonna be."

Logan, stretched out on the sofa with his arm thrown over the back, didn't even look away from the television. "On it," he said, already reaching for his phone with the same bored expression he wore whenever he was pretending he wasn't invested.

Dean, however, was clearly not as relaxed. He'd tossed his phone onto the coffee table a minute ago, only to pick it straight back up again when it buzzed. He checked the screen, sighed, and dropped it back down. "It's been nearly two hours."

Logan glanced over at him, unimpressed. "And?"

Dean looked at him like the answer should've been obvious. "And they're still getting ready."

Before Logan could respond, his phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down, reading the message before letting out a small laugh. "Grace says they're almost done."

Dean immediately sat up straighter. "Almost done means what?"

Logan looked back at him. "What do you mean?"

"Like... actually almost done? Or girl almost done?"

Garrett snorted from the other side of the room. "That's actually a fair question."

Logan shook his head, typing a reply. "I'll let them know we're waiting on an Uber."

"Tell them to hurry up," Garrett said, checking the app again. "I need to book this before every car disappears."

Logan dropped his phone beside him and leaned further into the sofa. "They're not going to hurry up because you told them to."

Garrett looked over. "Why not?"

"Because they're girls."

Tucker walked into the living room at that moment, a bag of tortilla chips tucked under his arm. He paused when he saw the three of them. "What are we complaining about now?"

"Their getting-ready time," Dean said without hesitation.

Tucker glanced at the clock. "They've been gone for, like, an hour and forty minutes."

Dean looked at him. "Exactly."

Tucker stared for a second before slowly shaking his head. "That doesn't really prove your point."

"It does," Dean insisted, sitting forward. "I just don't understand how putting on an outfit takes longer than playing an entire hockey game."

Logan finally laughed, shaking his head. "Dean, you've dated y/n long enough to know these girls make sure not evene one hair is out of place."

Dean only shrugs in response, "Doesn't mean I have to accept it."

Garrett looked back down at his phone, still waiting for the Uber prices to stop climbing. "You know what the worst part is?"

Dean looked over. "What?"

"They'll probably come out looking amazing, and we'll all forget we were annoyed."

Tucker nodded, grabbing a chip. "That's usually how it works."

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know they're girls," he said, throwing his hands up slightly. "I get that. But it still doesn't explain why getting dressed has become an Olympic event."

Logan looked at him with a grin. "You complain now, but the second Y/N walks through that door, you're gonna forget you were ever annoyed."

Dean opened his mouth to argue... but then he thought about it, "...maybe."

Garrett laughed. "Thought so."

Logan's phone buzzed again, the sound cutting through the room. He reached over lazily and picked it up, but the second he read the message, a grin tugged at his mouth.

"Grace says they're 'nearly done,'" he announced.

Tucker, sitting in the armchair with a bag of chips balanced against his stomach, let out a short laugh. "Are they fuck."

Logan looked up from his phone, amused because he knew Tucker was right. "No, seriously. They've been 'nearly done' for the last forty minutes."

Garrett shook his head from where he was standing near the kitchen counter, still refreshing the Uber app every few minutes. "That's actually impressive."

Dean, who had been staring at his phone like it might magically make Y/N appear faster, let out a loud groan and dropped his head back against the sofa. "I'm dating a menace."

The words came out dramatically, like he was personally suffering, but none of them missed the smile that followed.

Garrett glanced over at him, immediately catching it. "You love the menace."

Dean didn't even bother pretending otherwise. His expression softened for a second as he looked down at his phone again. "...Yeah."

Logan watched him with an amused shake of his head. "You're so gone."

Dean looked up, already preparing to argue. "I'm not."

Tucker raised an eyebrow, tossing another chip into his mouth."You spent the last twenty minutes complaining about her taking too long to get ready, and now you're smiling at your phone because she exists."

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again making Garrett laugh quietly.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop the small grin from returning as he glanced back at his phone. "Whatever."

Logan leaned back into the sofa, smirking. "Sure, Di Laurentis."

Dean ignored him, but the fact he didn't argue only proved their point.

For a moment, the room went quiet again. The TV continued playing in the background, some hockey commentary filling the silence, but Dean wasn't really paying attention. His eyes dropped back to his phone, thumb hovering over Y/N's name before he locked the screen.

"Well..." he started, dragging the word out as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She's still mad at me, isn't she?"

The joking tone he'd been using all afternoon had faded slightly.

"So..." Garrett said slowly, glancing between Dean and Logan like he already knew where this conversation was going.

Dean looked over at him. "...What?"

Garrett gave him a look, and Dean sighed, already knowing. "Seriously?"

"You and Y/N," Garrett clarified.

Dean flopped back on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck like it could somehow help him figure things out. "What about us?" he asked, his voice kinda shaky.

Tucker, who was mindlessly munching on chips, looked up, suddenly serious. "Did you talk to her?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Dean let out a soft sigh and grabbed his phone again, flipping it around in his hands like it was supposed to give him answers. "I texted her this morning," he said, trying to sound chill, but the fact that he’d checked his phone like twenty times since then totally gave away how much it was bothering him.

Garrett nodded slowly, taking it all in. "Okay," he said, keeping it chill.

Dean turned to Garrett, looking confused. "Okay?" he repeated, wanting more info.

"And what about the rest?" Garrett asked, clearly curious.

Dean paused, thinking about how to say it. "Just a simple message: 'Morning. Talk later?'"

Silence filled the room for a moment, making Logan glance up from the couch. "That's it?"

Dean frowned deeper. "What do you mean?"

Garrett shook his head, a bit annoyed. "We'll talk about that later."

Dean just ignored him, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. "I called her too," he finally admitted, breaking the awkward silence.

Logan, who had been glued to the TV, turned to Dean. "Did she answer?" he asked, clearly curious.

Dean shook his head, a hint of frustration crossing his face. "No," he said simply.

Tucker, watching the whole thing, felt bad for Dean. His expression softened a bit as he muttered, "Ouch."

Dean leaned back, shrugging it off, but inside, he felt the weight of it all.

“She let it ring,” he murmured, looking down at his phone, the screen lighting up his face in the dim room.

“She always picks up my calls,” he added, frustration creeping into his voice.

That was what really bothered him.

It wasn’t just the silence.

And it wasn’t just that she was mad.

What really got to him was the fact that Y/N, who always answered without fail, had seen his name pop up on her screen and decided to ignore it.

Garrett exchanged a look with Logan. It was quick, but Dean caught it. The kind of look that meant they were both on the same page, and judging by the way Dean immediately frowned, he already knew he wasn't going to like whatever Garrett was about to say.

"You should text her again," Garrett said, leaning back against the sofa.

Dean didn't even think about it. His hand moved straight for his phone, almost automatically, like he'd been waiting for an excuse to check it again. "I did."

The three of them looked at him, and Dean paused with his phone still in his hand, glancing between their faces. "What?"

Logan lifted his eyebrows, his expression saying, 'Seriously?' without needing to say it.

Garrett nodded towards the phone. "What'd you send?"

Dean looked back down at the screen, scrolling through the conversation before reading it aloud. "'Can't wait to see what you're wearing.'"

Silence. And not the comfortable kind either. The kind where everyone was trying to figure out how Dean had somehow managed to make things worse without realising.

Logan slowly turned his head towards him from where he was sitting on the sofa, staring at him for a long second. "...Seriously?"

Dean's eyebrows pulled together. "What?"

Garrett let out a slow breath, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "Dean..."

"Oh, you're done, man," Tucker laughed, looking way too entertained. "You are absolutely cooked." The warning in his voice was enough, but Dean only looked more confused.

"What?"

Garrett gestured vaguely towards his phone. "Out of everything you could've texted her..."

Dean shrugged, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "I thought it would make her smile," he admitted, and deep down, he truly believed it would. That was the most frustrating part of it all.

Dean wasn't trying to dismiss her feelings. He genuinely thought he was doing the right thing. He was trying to remind her that he loved her, trying to bring things back to normal.

He just wasn't understanding that normal was the thing she wasn't ready for yet.

Logan leaned back against the sofa, staring at him. "It probably made her want to throw her phone across the room."

"I know for a fact those girls are laughing at you," Tucker said, laughing as he shook his head. "Like, I'm not even trying to be mean, but there is no way they aren't."

Dean blinked. "Why?"

Logan looked genuinely baffled. "Because she's still mad at you."

"I know that." Dean frowned, like that answer didn't make sense.

Garrett shook his head slightly. "No. I don't think you do."

Dean looked between them, his shoulders tightening. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're acting like this is just something she needs to get over," Tucker said, shaking his head. "Like she's gonna wake up one day and be like, 'Cool, I'm good now.' Dude, that's not how people work."

Dean opened his mouth, but Tucker held up a hand, stopping him.

"And before you say anything, that's not even what she's upset about."

Dean looked down at his phone, his thumb running over the edge of the case. "I was trying to act normal." He swallowed. 

"We know that," Garrett said, leaning back with a shrug. "And honestly? She probably knows that too."

Tucker shifted slightly and looked over at him. "That's the problem," he said, his voice quieter now. "You keep thinking it's about fixing it or making it go away, but it's not."

Dean glanced towards him.

Tucker shrugged, but his expression was more serious than usual. "You're acting like yesterday didn't happen."

Dean leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his phone dangling loosely between his hands. He stared at the screen for a second like it might magically explain everything for him.

"I already told you guys, I wasn't flirting," he said.

Garrett glanced over, completely unfazed. "We know."

Dean looked up. "Do you?"

Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Dean. Believe it or not, we do occasionally listen when you talk."

Dean scoffed, leaning back slightly. "Good. Glad one of you has finally figured that out."

Tucker shook his head from the other side of the room. "That wasn't the point."

Dean's eyes flicked over to him.

Garrett shrugged. "I mean, we know you weren't trying to flirt."

A beat passed.

"Y/N probably knows that too," Garrett added.

Dean looked down at his phone again, jaw tightening just slightly.

"Probably?" he repeated.

Garrett tilted his head. "I mean... yeah. Probably."

Dean let out a quiet laugh, but there wasn't much humour in it. "Great. Love the confidence there, Graham."

"You're welcome," Garrett said easily.

Dean rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Because the annoying part was Garrett was right. It wasn't about whether Dean had meant anything by it. He knew that. They all knew that.

The problem was Y/N didn't need a reminder that he hadn't meant to hurt her. She needed to know he understood why she was hurt.

That seemed to frustrate Dean more, as he sat back slightly, running a hand through his hair. "Then why won't she talk to me?"

Logan reached for the remote beside him and muted the TV, finally giving Dean his full attention. "Because, genius, that's not the point."

Dean looked over at him.

Logan leaned back into the couch, rolling the remote between his fingers. "It's not about whether you actually wanted the girl."

Dean went quiet.

"It's about what she saw," Logan added, his tone losing some of its usual teasing edge. "And trust me, those two things aren't always the same."

Garrett leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "You stood there talking to her. You smiled, joked with her, and never really shut it down. Doesn't matter that you weren't flirting. From the outside, it looked like you were."

"I was just being nice," Dean said, frowning. He looked between the three of them like they were the ones making this more complicated than it needed to be. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?"

Tucker looked over from the armchair and gave a small nod.

"Yeah," he said.

Dean's smile had disappeared completely.

He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck before letting it fall, his fingers tapping absently against the edge of his phone. For the first time since the conversation had started, he didn't have a joke ready.

His jaw flexed. "I honestly didn't think it'd upset her this much." he said, and his confession lingered in the space.

Garrett looked at him for a long second, the frustration he'd been wearing easing into something more understanding. He knew Dean. Knew that, beneath all the cocky one-liners and effortless charm, hurting Y/N had never been the intention.

"I know," Garrett said, his voice quieter now.

Dean let out a slow breath, staring down at the phone in his hands. The screen had already gone dark again, reflecting back his own expression.

Logan leaned back into the sofa, folding his arms across his chest. "That's the thing," he said, his tone matter-of-fact rather than accusatory. "You keep talking about what you meant."

Dean looked up. "I know what I meant."

"We know what you meant too," Tucker replied from the armchair. He tossed another chip into his mouth before dusting the salt from his fingers, his gaze settling on Dean. "You're not the problem."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"The girl was flirting," Tucker said simply. "Everybody knows that."

Dean nodded once, as if that proved his point. "So..."

"So," Logan cut in, "you keep stopping there."

Garrett leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes stayed on Dean's, waiting until he had his full attention before he spoke again. "You've got to stop looking at it from your side."

Dean's brows pulled together, and Garrett continued, patient as ever. "Forget what was going through your head for a second."

Dean didn't interrupt. "Think about what Y/N saw."

Nobody spoke, and Garrett didn't rush to fill the silence.

"She walked into a bar with her boyfriend," he said evenly. "Then she watched another girl flirt with him while he stood there smiling and talking to her."

Garrett maintained eye contact with Dean as his shoulders fell almost silently. "That's what she went home with."

The words landed harder than any of Logan's sarcasm had, and Dean looked back down at his phone, turning it over slowly between his hands. This time, he didn't try to defend himself.

Dean rubbed both hands over his face before letting them fall into his lap. He stared at the floor for a second, then looked back up at the three of them. "So..." He exhaled through his nose. "What the hell do I do tonight?"

Nobody answered straight away, as Dean shifted forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I've gotta fix it somehow."

Logan broke the silence first, his tone casual yet pointed. "You don't try to fix it."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "...What do you mean?"

"You heard me," Logan replied, shrugging one shoulder as if the answer was self-evident.

"You shouldn't approach her the moment she arrives, demanding to know if she's still upset. She's already angry; there's no need to escalate it further." Tucker nodded in agreement, casually tossing another chip into his mouth. "And for heaven's sake, don't spend the entire evening sulking just because she's with the girls."

Dean's expression shifted, almost offended. "I don't sulk."

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.

He let out a resigned sigh. "...Fine. Maybe just a little."

Garrett chuckled softly, raising a finger in Dean's direction. "And if another girl even looks like she's about to approach..."

Before he could complete his thought, Dean cut in, "I walk away."

Logan shook his head firmly. "No."

Dean blinked in surprise. "No?"

"You can't just walk away," Logan said, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. "You need to come straight back to Y/N."

Dean fell silent, his thoughts swirling as Garrett seamlessly continued from where Logan had paused. "You need to be where your girlfriend is," he advised.

A frown creased Dean's brow. "I was."

"Were you really?" Garrett's tone wasn't accusing at all... It was more like he was just curious.

Dean parted his lips to respond but found himself at a loss for words, closing them again.

Garrett offered a small, knowing smile, as if he understood something unspoken. "Exactly." The room went quiet for a second, filled with all the stuff we weren’t saying.

"So..." Dean rubbed the back of his neck again. "Just... act normal?"

Garrett shook his head. "No."

Dean looked at him.

"Act like her boyfriend." Garrett adds. 

"I am her boyfriend." Dean frowns. 

Tucker smiled to himself. "Yeah." A beat passed. "But last night you were just Dean."

Dean frowned. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to flirt to look available," Tucker said simply.

"And you definitely looked available," Logan added.

Dean let that sink in. For once, he didn't have a comeback. He just sat there, staring at the carpet. "...Harsh."

Logan snorted. "You'll live."

Dean glanced between the three of them, his mind racing to comprehend the situation. "So what am I supposed to do?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "Just act like everything's fine?"

Tucker shook his head, cutting off any response from Garrett or Logan. "No."

He settled back into the armchair, the bag of chips resting on his knee. "Don't pretend like nothing happened," he advised, shrugging slightly. "Just... be her boyfriend."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "I am being her boyfriend."

"You think you are," Logan muttered under his breath.

Tucker, however, kept his focus on Dean. "You need to make her feel like she's the only girl in the room."

Dean didn't hesitate for a moment. "She is the only girl," he declared, the words flowing from him so effortlessly that none of his friends doubted his sincerity.

Garrett's expression softened a bit. "We know."

Tucker chimed in, "It's just time you make sure she knows it too."

Logan's phone buzzed in his hand, interrupting Dean before he could respond. He glanced down at the screen, a grin spreading across his face as he read the message. "Grace says they're ready."

Garrett let out a laugh, pushing himself off the sofa and reaching for the jacket draped over the back of a chair. "Fucking finally," he exclaimed, slipping it on while still shaking his head in disbelief. "I was starting to think we'd make last orders before they even left the dorm."

Dean lingered behind the others, moving slowly as he reached for his jacket but was hesitant to put it on. His mind was elsewhere, racing with doubt. "Do you really think it'll be alright?" he asked, glancing at Garrett.

Garrett fastened his jacket and met Dean's gaze. "I reckon you've got some making up to do."

Dean nodded slightly, his hand instinctively moving to the phone in his pocket. He retrieved it, his thumb gliding over the screen until Y/N's conversation caught his eye.

The last message remained unread.

He stared at it for a moment, then locked the screen and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "...Yeah."

---

By the time we finally pulled up outside the hockey house, I had a feeling the guys were completely over waiting for us.

The front door flew open almost as soon as Hannah knocked.

"Finally," Garrett said with an exaggerated sigh, folding his arms across his chest as he looked the four of us over. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself before he turned towards the living room and raised his voice. "Guys, they're here!"

The house instantly came to life.

Logan appeared first, taking the stairs two at a time before shoving his phone into his pocket. Tucker wandered out from the kitchen, still chewing whatever he'd managed to raid from the cupboards. Dean was the last to move, pushing himself off the sofa with an unhurried stretch that made it look like he'd been claiming that spot for hours.

My eyes found him before I could stop them.

God.

He looked unfairly good.

Dark jeans. A navy quarter-zip sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms. The colour made his blue eyes stand out even more, and his hair looked like he'd run a hand through it one too many times while waiting.

For one stupid second, everything else disappeared.

It would've been so easy to walk over to him. Normally, he'd be smirking already, arms opening before I even reached him, making some cocky comment about how I clearly couldn't stay away for more than a few hours. He'd kiss my forehead, steal my bag, and act like I weighed nothing when he pulled me into his side.

Instead, he just looked at me.

My chest tightened.

I hated this already. 

I hated pretending he was just another person in the room.

Logan's face broke into a grin the second he saw us. "I was starting to think you guys had ghosted us," he said, amusement lacing his voice as he slipped an arm around Grace's waist the moment she reached him.

Hannah laughed, not missing a beat.

"Nah," she said, jerking her thumb towards Grace. "That was all her."

Grace gasped, pressing a dramatic hand against her chest as she looked between all of us in mock offence. "Excuse me?"

"You changed outfits like three times," Sabrina reminded her, struggling to keep a straight face.

Grace's eyebrows shot up. "I changed twice."

Hannah raised one right back. "And yet you're still wearing the blue top you tried on first."

Grace opened her mouth to argue, paused, then frowned. "...That's not the point."

"The point," Sabrina replied with a smile, "is that we could've been here twenty minutes ago."

Logan looked down at Grace, a smirk spreading across his face. "For the record," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, "you would've looked good in any of them."

Grace's expression softened immediately. "See?" she said, looking triumphantly at Hannah.

Logan chuckled. "I'm not saying they're wrong," he added quickly. "I'm just saying I'd have happily waited either way."

Grace rolled her eyes, though the smile she was trying to hide gave her away as she lightly shoved his shoulder. "Oh, you're so cute."

"I've been called worse," he sighs. 

"Right," Tucker cut in, pushing himself away from the kitchen doorway and clapping his hands together once. "If we're done roasting Grace's wardrobe, can we actually leave?"

Garrett immediately reached for the keys sitting on the side table.

"Yeah," he said, already heading towards the door. "The Uber's waiting, and I'm not paying a cancellation fee because you lot can't stop talking."

That earned a chorus of complaints, but everyone followed him outside anyway, the conversation picking straight back up as we trailed behind him towards the waiting car.

I lingered near the back of the group, smoothing down the hem of my dress more out of nerves than necessity.

"Hey." Dean's voice was quieter than everyone else's.

I looked up, and he was already watching me. 

For a second, neither of us spoke, though his eyes did travel down my outfit, a familiar smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You look..." He shook his head lightly, almost laughing to himself. "Jesus, baby. You look beautiful."

"You look..." Dean's eyes swept over me slowly before he gave a quiet shake of his head, a breath of a laugh escaping him. "Jesus, baby. You look beautiful."

The words hit me harder than I wanted them to.

My stomach betrayed me with the smallest flutter, and for the briefest second I almost forgot why I was still upset with him.

Normally, I would've smiled.

Normally, he'd have slipped an arm around my waist, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and we'd have walked out of the house together without thinking twice about it. He'd have made some cocky comment about everyone staring at me before whispering that he couldn't blame them.

Instead, I just gave a small nod.

"Thank you," I said quietly, my voice barely above a murmur as I looked away from him before I could change my mind.

That was it.

No teasing comeback.

No smile.

No playful, You're looking alright yourself, Di Laurentis.

Just two words.

Even saying those felt strange.

The silence stretched between us, and I could still feel him looking at me. It made my chest tighten.

Part of me hated how distant I was being.

The other part knew if I acted like everything was fine, he'd never understand why I'd been hurt in the first place.

With a quiet sigh, I glanced back up at him.

"You don't look too bad yourself."

His lips twitched into the beginning of a smile, but it never quite reached his eyes. He swallowed, almost like he'd expected more, before giving me a small nod.

"Thanks."

Neither of us knew where to go from there.

Before the silence could grow any heavier, Garrett clapped his hands together once, instantly pulling everyone's attention back to him.

"Right," he said, jingling the car keys in one hand. "Uber's just round this corner. Let's move before the driver's had enough of waiting."

The group started filing out of the house, everyone naturally falling into conversation again.

Dean and I walked side by side at the back.

Normally, Dean would tell me a ridiculous story that would make me laugh, tell me to run off with him to the car for a quickie, or make up stupid jokes, but neither of us seemed to know where to begin.

I kept mine anywhere but on him. 

On the cracked pavement.  On Garrett and Hannah walking in front. On Logan trying to steal Grace's phone.

Anywhere except Dean.

The silence wasn't awkward... It was worse than awkward. It was unfamiliar. Dean wasn't talking. I wasn't talking, and it felt like there was this invisible gap between us, one that hadn't been there twenty-four hours ago. The thought made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

I hated this.

I hated that things felt different.

I hated that I missed him even though he was walking less than a foot away. But I wasn't ready to pretend everything was okay just because we were going out.

By the time we reached the Uber, Garrett was already opening the passenger door. "Garrett Graham," he told the driver with an easy smile before climbing into the front seat.

The rest of us piled into the back, shuffling around as everyone tried to make enough room. Somehow, I ended up wedged against the window. Of course. Dean slid in beside me a second later, his leg brushing mine for the briefest moment before he shifted away to give me as much space as he could.

Great.

Not awkward at all.

Logan and Grace argued the majority of the way about what to eat later, though I was all for team Grace. After a night out, McDonald's nuggets were the best. 

Tucker soon cut in, saying he's grabbing a Taco Bell either way, mostly just to wind Logan up.

Sabrina sighed dramatically. "You all realise the driver can hear you?"

"He's lucky," Logan replied. "This is quality entertainment."

The driver laughed, and I stared out of the window.

Beside me, Dean shifted slightly, his knee brushing mine for half a second before he quietly moved it away again.

I swallowed at the contact; this journey was taking forever. 

When the Uber finally pulled up outside the club, everyone climbed out, and we were immediately greeted by music spilling out onto the street and a queue stretching around the corner.

Garrett stretched his arms above his head. "Right," he said. "Let's go."

The group naturally started walking together, and Dean fell into step behind me. For a few moments everything felt almost normal; that was until I felt his hand settle against my waist.

It felt normal, like the same way he'd always done it. Before I could stop myself, I took a small step sideways, slipping out of his reach. 

For a brief moment, I felt bad, but then I remembered how he had made me feel with that girl last night. He glanced at me as his hand returned to his side.

Then let out a quiet breath through his nose. "Oh..." His mouth tugged into a small, humourless smile, and he let out a breathy scoff,  "We're doing that now, hm?"

There wasn't any anger in his voice. If anything, it sounded more disappointed than anything else, and the words landed harder than I expected.

"Okay, baby," he spoke, catching up toward Logan, and a flicker of guilt twisted in my chest, and for a second, I almost reached for his hand.

Almost.

Instead, I looked away, focusing on the line outside the club as the rest of the group carried on ahead.

Soon enough, we were in line, and thank god Sabrina was chatting away to me instead of being stuck next to Dean's awkward silence. Thankfully he was talking to Garrett. We were also lucky, as the queue moved faster than I thought it would.

I really needed a drink.

Garrett led us through the queue until he was chatting it up with the bouncer like they were best buds, while Logan had Grace snug against him, both of them cracking up as she tried to convince him she’d totally crush him at pool later.

"You’ve never won against me," Logan said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the metal gate.

Grace rolled her eyes, her brows shooting up in defiance as she playfully nudged him with her shoulder. "I’ve gotten way better," she shot back, a smirk dancing on her lips.

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. "You said that last time," he replied, his voice dripping with fake seriousness.

"I really have," she insisted, crossing her arms and tilting her head like she was ready for a challenge.

"You only sank the black ball on your first try," he reminded her, chuckling as he remembered that moment.

Grace shoved his shoulder again, this time harder, her laughter bubbling up. "I was under pressure, okay?" she shot back, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

Logan leaned back, shaking his head with a playful laugh. "You were under the influence," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he reached out to mess up her hair, making her laugh even harder. He then pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before we all disappeared inside.

The music slammed into us right away. The bass thumped through the floor, colorful lights flashing all over the packed dance floor while voices and laughter mixed into one big noise.

Garrett glanced back, checking to see if we all made it inside. "Drinks first?" he shouted over the club's noise, and everyone nodded eagerly.

The bar was packed, but Garrett managed to push us through a small gap, his height giving him an advantage. "What do you all want?" he asked, scanning the group, ready to take our orders.

Hannah and Grace exchanged looks and decided to share a pitcher, their laughter blending with the music. Tucker and Logan were deep in a debate, animatedly arguing about which beer wouldn’t taste like cat piss, and Sabrina just wanted a wine. 

Dean was next to me, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, looking chill, but I could sense the tension. He caught the bartender's attention first, leaning in to be heard. "Can I get a lager?" he asked, sounding sure of himself.

The bartender nodded and grabbed a glass. Dean leaned against the bar, looking relaxed, but I felt this weird distance between us. 

No playful teasing, no "What do you want, babe?" Just a straightforward order, and it hit me hard.

I watched him from the corner of my eye for a second, waiting for him to notice. And he did. Dean had always been annoyingly good at picking up on the smallest things, especially when it came to me.

A quiet scoff slipped out before I could stop it, making his head turn immediately. "What?" he asked, his eyebrows pulling together slightly.

I looked away, folding my arms across my chest. "Nothing," I mutter. The single word came out a little too quickly, and judging by the way Dean's eyes narrowed slightly, he knew exactly what I was doing.

He'd always been good at reading me. Sometimes annoyingly good.

Dean let out a quiet breath, leaning one arm against the bar as he looked at me. "Yeah, okay."

I glanced back at him. "What?"

"That wasn't a nothing." He shook his head with a quiet, breathy laugh, but there wasn't much humour behind it. 

I rolled my eyes, looking back towards the bartender instead. "You forgot to ask if I wanted a drink. " I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. But it was. And we both knew it.

For a second, Dean looked genuinely caught off guard. His expression softened slightly, like he hadn't even realised he'd done it. Then he gave a small laugh, dragging a hand over his jaw, but not because he found it funny.

Because Dean Di Laurentis always seemed to laugh when he didn't know what else to say.

"I thought..." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know, I thought we weren't doing all that tonight."

I frowned, turning back towards him. "Doing what?"

Dean gestured between the two of us, his expression becoming slightly defensive. "That."

I stared at him. "That doesn't explain anything," I say, frowning.

"You know what I mean," he says, his eyebrows pulling together as he looks at me.

"No, Dean, I actually don't." I spoke with a frown and for once, he didn't have a quick comeback.

He sighed, glancing away for a second before looking back at me. "The couple stuff."

I stared at him. "The couple stuff?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, but there was something uncomfortable in the way he shifted his weight. Like he knew this wasn't coming out right. "I mean... you moved away when I tried to put my arm around you."

My eyebrows lifted, and I couldn't help the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped me. "Don't be petty, Dean." I scoff lowly. 

His lips parted slightly, like he genuinely couldn't believe I'd just called him that. "Oh, what? I'm being petty?"

"Yes."

Dean looked around for a second, almost like he was looking for someone to confirm he wasn't losing his mind, before turning back to me. "I thought we were both being petty." He swallowed slightly, and the familiar little tilt of his head would normally have made me laugh.

Normally, I would've rolled my eyes and told him he was ridiculous. Normally, I would've reached for his hand. But that was normally... Tonight felt different.

Because normally I didn't have to wonder if my boyfriend understood why he had hurt me.

"So asking your girlfriend if she wants a drink is 'couple stuff' now?" I say, and the question came out sharper than I intended.

Dean's expression changed... He didnt look angry, just... hurt, like he realised that this wasn't actually about the drink.

He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

For once, Dean Di Laurentis, who always had something to say, had no joke, no teasing comment, no easy way out.

And somehow, that told me everything.

He then sighed. "That's not what I meant."

"Look, Dean, I'm not getting into this with you," I say, keeping my voice steady even though my heart is beating way too fast. "I came out tonight to have fun, not stand at a bar arguing."

The second the words leave my mouth, I see something flicker across his face.

It wasn't anger, but more like disappointment.

"What, so what?" he says, letting out a quiet scoff as he crosses his arms over his chest. "You're just gonna stay mad at me all night?"

I hate that part of me knows he's not trying to start a fight, he's just frustrated, confused even.

Dean has never been good at sitting in the middle of something unresolved. He's the kind of person who wants to fix things immediately, usually with a joke, a smile, or some ridiculous comment that makes everything feel okay again. But this wasn't something I could just laugh off.

I shrugged, forcing myself to look away. "So be it."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, and for a second, it looked like he wanted to argue, but the stopped himself. His jaw tightened before he looked away, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek like he was trying to figure out what to say without making things worse.

Before he could, the bartender turned towards me with a friendly smile. "And for you?"

I turned back, forcing my expression to soften. "I'll have a vodka lemonade, please."

The words came out normally, even though I could still feel Dean standing beside me. Watching me.

The bartender nodded and typed in the order. "That'll be $5.60."

I reached for my purse immediately, but before I could even unzip it, Dean moved, and he pulled a twenty-dollar note from his wallet and placed it on the bar. "I've got it."

His voice wasn't teasing, nor was it playful. It was quiet. Almost sounding automatic.

I looked over at him, caught off guard. "Dean—"

"I've got it," he repeated, this time, softer, making me swallow as I look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the bar in front of him, avoiding mine as the bartender took the money and handed him the change.

Somehow, that bothered me more than if he had argued. Because this was Dean. 

The guy who always made everything a joke. The guy who would normally tell me I owed him a kiss for letting him buy my drink. The guy who would have grinned and called me difficult. But he didn't. He just stood there, quietly paying for my drink.

For a moment, the anger I'd been holding onto loosened slightly. A small part of me felt guilt, because even though I was hurt, I knew Dean wasn't trying to hurt me.

He was trying, maybe not so perfectly, and maybe not in the way I needed yet. But he was trying.

The words I wanted to say sat right on the tip of my tongue. Thank you. I'm sorry. Something. Anything.

Instead, I pressed my lips together and looked away, letting the silence sit between us.

Garrett then appeared beside us carrying the pitcher Hannah and Grace had ordered. "Found a booth," he called over the music. "C'mon before someone steals it."

Dean picked up both our drinks without saying a word and followed Garrett through the crowd.

I followed beside him, watching as he moved through the packed room, occasionally glancing back to make sure I was still there.

It was such a Dean thing to do. Act like everything was fine. Except tonight, we both knew it wasn't. 

It felt as though he was trying to acknowledge his mistake, yet he was going about it all wrong.

The booth Garrett had found was tucked into the corner, giving us a good view of the dance floor without being completely surrounded by people.

Logan slid in beside Grace, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he reached for her drink. Before she could react, he took a quick sip, the liquid disappearing down his throat.

"Seriously?" she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise.

"You weren't drinking it," he replied with a casual shrug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he savored the taste. "Ooo thats nice..." He trailled off. 

"I was going to," she huffed, crossing her arms in mock indignation.

"Future tense doesn't count," he teased, leaning back against the couch, a playful glint in his eyes.

Grace rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her, lifting into a smile she couldn't control.

Across from them, Hannah and Garrett were being all cut, talking about their plans for a restaurant he had booked them in for next week, while Sabrina and Tucker were playfully trying each other's drinks.  

For a second, things felt normal, except for the fact that Dean and I weren't talking. 

Then a girl appeared beside our table. She was holding a tray of brightly coloured shots, a smile already on her face as she looked between everyone. "Anyone feeling brave tonight?"

A few of the guys looked over but shook their heads. "I don't do well with shots," Sabrina mumbled, making Tucker laugh from beside her. 

The girl laughed also, but her eyes stayed on Dean a little longer than necessary. "Especially you."

Here we go.

Again.

The girl leaned against the edge of the booth, twirling one of the shot glasses between her fingers. "You look like you could handle one."

I shot a look at Grace, who gave me a disapproving frown, while Dean barely even noticed the girl with the shots. Honestly, before last night, I wouldn’t have cared. But now, I was totally watching him, trying to figure out what he was going to do next.

The girl leaned in, a flirty grin on her face. "So?"

Dean shot back right away, his voice calm but firm. "Nah, I'm good." There was no way she could argue with that.

She tilted her head, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "Not even one?"

Dean just shook his head, glancing back at me as he started to turn away. "Nah, I'm all set."

Before I could even think about what he said, I felt his arm wrap around my waist, pulling me in closer. My breath caught in my throat, not because I was uncomfortable, but because his touch felt so warm and unexpected after everything that had gone down earlier.

Dean's hand rested against my side, a familiar weight that was both comforting and exciting. He looked back at the girl, a confident smirk on his lips. "My girlfriend's got me covered already."

She caught my eye for a second, and without thinking, I shot her a look. Nothing dramatic, just a little reminder that I was there.

She nodded slowly, her smile fading a bit. "Right. Have a good night," she said quietly, almost like a whisper. Then she turned slightly and stepped back, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she walked away.

Across the booth, Hannah caught my eye, her expression full of mischief. It was clear what she was thinking. 

See? He’s trying.

I widened my eyes a little, silently begging her to keep it to herself. She knew me too well, and I could see her trying not to laugh. Instead of saying anything, she took a sip of her drink, the ice clinking in the glass, a smirk on her lips. Of course she would.

Dean leaned in closer, his mouth right by my ear so I could hear him over the loud music. "You know, for someone who's still mad at me, you looked pretty happy when I shut that down."

I shot him a look, narrowing my eyes like I was annoyed. A small smile almost slipped out, but I quickly pushed it down, trying to keep my face serious. "I'm still mad at you," I said, crossing my arms like I meant it.

Dean's lips twitched, a playful spark in his eyes. "Oh really?" he said, his voice rough but teasing, leaning in a bit more, like he was enjoying this.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice softer than I wanted.

"Yeah?" He repeated, looking down at me, making me inhale.

"Yeah," I mumbled, repeating myself.

He nodded slowly, pretending to be serious as he tilted his head. "Good to know," he said, a smirk almost breaking through.

I rolled my eyes, but I could feel my cheeks getting warm.

And no matter how hard I tried, I hated that a part of me wanted to laugh. 

The conversation slowly drifted away from us after that. Hannah was already laughing at something Garrett had said, while Logan pulled Grace to her feet the second a song she liked came on.

"C'mon," he said, already tugging her towards the dance floor. "If I have to listen to this, I'm at least making you dance."

Grace laughed, letting him pull her away. "You love Rihanna."

"I tolerate her," he says, cocking his head to the side with a grin, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they disappear into the crowd.

Sabrina watched them leave, her eyes following as they blended into the crowd. She turned to Tucker, a fierce look on her face. "I need another drink," she said, her voice strong.

Tucker raised his eyebrows, a playful grin forming. "Nah... You need water," he shot back, crossing his arms and leaning back like he was making a big point.

"I need another drink," she insisted, her tone steady as she leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes at him in a teasing way.

"You really need water," he repeated, his face serious, making her squint at him, a fun challenge in her eyes.

"I'll meet you halfway," she said, sticking out her bottom lip in a fake pout, trying to get him to budge.

Tucker sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes like he already regretted what he was about to say. "I know I'm gonna regret this."

"Vodka and water," she said, a victorious smile lighting up her face.

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief as he got up from the booth, his laughter mixing with the music around us. "You're something else," he said, a hint of admiration in his tone.

"So I've heard," she shot back, her smile growing as they headed toward the bar, leaving the rest of us at the table, the vibe buzzing with excitement.

Garrett scanned the room, his gaze landing on the pool tables before snapping back to Hannah with a cheeky grin. "Wanna get beat?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Hannah snorted, rolling her eyes. "In your dreams, Graham."

He laughed, leaning in a bit. "Dean."

Dean, who had been sipping his drink, looked up, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"You're with me," Garrett announced, turning to Hannah with a playful smirk. "You can take Y/N."

"Wow," I scoffed, a small laugh escaping as I raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like a punishment." Garrett tilted his head, pretending to be innocent.

Hannah, quick on the uptake, hooked her arm through mine, pulling me closer. "Perfect," she said, her eyes shining with excitement.

Dean looked over at me, his expression like he was about to say something, lips parting just a bit. Garrett grinned and nodded, leading us to the nearest open table, his confidence shining as he declared, "Captains always break." He swaggered up to the table, hands on his hips, clearly loving the moment.

"Since when are you the captain?" Hannah shot back, raising an eyebrow as she followed closely behind.

"Since like five seconds ago," Garrett replied, a playful smirk on his face.

"How convenient," she retorted, crossing her arms with a mock-serious look.

"It totally is," he said, chuckling as he set up the cue balls with precision.

Hannah rolled her eyes dramatically, then reached into the rack and handed me a cue, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. "You any good?" she asked, leaning against the table, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

"I've played," I replied, giving the cue a light twirl in my hands.

She laughed, the sound bright and teasing. "That wasn't my question," she said, leaning in closer, her tone playful.

I smiled faintly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "I'm alright," I admitted, shrugging a bit.

"Good enough for me," she said, her grin widening as she stepped back, ready to watch the game unfold.

Garrett walked up to the table, cue-in hand, and smashed the break, the crack of the balls ringing out over the thumping music.

"Lucky shot," Hannah called out, leaning against the table with a cheeky grin.

"I totally potted two," Garrett shot back, a proud smirk on his face as he pointed to the two balls that had dropped into the pockets.

"Lucky two shots," she retorted, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, clearly ready for a challenge.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he walked around the table, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He leaned casually against the side, enjoying the friendly competition. "You girls are already acting like sore losers," he teased, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

"We haven't lost yet," Hannah shot back, her competitive spirit fired up as she got ready for her turn.

"You will," Dean replied confidently, leaning in closer to the table, totally focused.

"We'll see," Hannah countered, determination in her voice as she lined up her shot.

Dean was acting like every shot he made was the most epic thing ever, and I couldn't help but laugh, just once.

He glanced my way when he heard me. Our eyes locked for a split second before I looked away. He didn’t say a word; he just kept playing like nothing happened.

A few moments later, Hannah stepped up to the pool table, her brow furrowed in concentration as she lined up another shot. With a dramatic groan, she threw her head back, clearly annoyed. "Ugh, I’m definitely getting another drink after this," she shouted, trying to be heard over the music.

Garrett leaned against the table, arms crossed, a teasing smirk on his face. "You’ve said that like three times already," he replied, shaking his head in playful disbelief.

Hannah rolled her eyes, a playful grin breaking through her frustration. "And I actually mean it this time." With a flourish, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and strutted off towards the bar, her hips swaying as she walked.

"Don’t cheat while I’m gone!" Garrett called after her, laughter in his voice.

"As if we’d need to," she shot back over her shoulder, her laughter mixing with the upbeat music as she vanished into the crowd.

I watched her disappear into the crowd, spotting Sabrina and Tucker a few people away, still waiting to be served at the bar.

Across the club, Logan and Grace had completely abandoned everyone else, laughing together in the middle of the dance floor as Logan attempted what could only generously be described as dancing.

Grace doubled over laughing, and Logan looked far too pleased with himself. A smile threatened at the corner of my mouth.

By the time Hannah got back, my drink was pretty much gone. I took the last sip without even thinking and set the glass down on the edge of the table, leaning in to catch Garrett's next shot.

"You’ve got an easy red there," I said, leaning over the table to get a better look.

"I know," he replied, narrowing his eyes in focus.

"Then why are you taking forever?" I teased, crossing my arms and tapping my foot lightly.

"Mind games," he shot back, a smirk creeping onto his face.

"You're just stalling," I insisted, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm strategising," he countered, totally focused.

I chuckled quietly, shaking my head as I watched him.

Next to me, Dean glanced at my empty glass, his brow furrowing a bit. He didn’t say anything. No jokes. Not even a glance my way.

Instead, he reached for his own drink, which he hadn’t touched, and smoothly swapped it with my empty glass before stepping up to take his shot.

It was so natural I almost missed it.

I looked down at the fresh drink now in front of me, condensation dripping down the glass. Then back at Dean.

He was all about the table, cue in one hand, brow furrowed as he lined up the white ball perfectly.

He didn’t even check if I noticed. Never asked for a thank you. Never joked about getting me another. He just... did it.

Something tightened in my chest, warmth spreading through me.

I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass, feeling the chill seep into my skin, turning it slowly against the wood of the table before taking a small sip.

Dean still didn’t look at me, his focus completely on the game.

And somehow, that made the gesture mean even more, a silent understanding passing between us amidst the noise of the bar.

---

I'd gone to the bathroom for literally two minutes, and when I walked back over to the booth, I realised every single glass on the table was empty.

Garrett noticed me looking. "We're all out," he said, lifting his beer bottle before turning it upside down. Not a drop came out. "Think that's our sign."

"I'll go," I offered, reaching for the empty glasses.

"You sure?" Hannah asked.

I nodded. "It's fine."

Before I could gather them all together, Dean was already on his feet. "I'll give you a hand."

For a second, I considered telling him not to bother, but instead, I simply nodded. "Okay."

Garrett caught Dean's eye as we stepped away from the booth; it wasn't too obvious, just the smallest nod, and Dean returned it without a word.

I swear the club had gotten even busier than before. People squeezed past us from every direction, the music somehow louder than it had been twenty minutes ago.

Dean walked beside me, matching my pace without saying much. Normally, this would've been effortless. He would've reached for my hand the second someone bumped into me. Or rested his hand against the small of my back to guide me through the crowd. I knew that because that's what he always did.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his fingers twitch, just slightly... Like instinct had taken over before his brain caught up.

His hand lifted barely an inch before it stopped, and almost immediately, he shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans.

We reached the bar and squeezed into the small gap that had opened up, neither of us spoke while we waited.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It just felt... careful. Like we were both choosing every movement before we made it.

My hair slipped over my shoulder as I leaned against the bar. Again, I caught Dean looking. Normally he'd have brushed it back behind my ear. Or smiled and kissed my temple when he thought nobody was watching. Instead, he looked away almost as quickly as I'd caught him.

He was stopping himself. I knew he was. For some reason, that made the ache in my chest even worse.

The bartender eventually made his way over. "What can I get you?"

I started listing everyone's drinks, mentally checking them off one by one. "A lager... vodka lemonade... two rum and cokes..."

"A Malibu and coke too, please," Dean quietly added Tucker's order when I forgot it. "Double." 

The bartender nodded and disappeared, and I rested my forearms against the bar while we waited.

"So..." Dean began quietly, making me glance at him.

He smiled a little. "...You beating us at pool was pure luck."

I couldn't help the tiny huff of laughter that escaped me. "It wasn't luck."

"It definitely was." He scoffed with laughter, and before either of us could say anything else, someone slid into the empty space beside me.

"Hi." I turned to find a guy about our age leaning casually against the bar. He smiled. "I've been trying to get the bartender's attention for about ten minutes."

I smiled politely. "Good luck."

He laughed. "So... you here with friends?"

Dean went completely still beside me.

"I am," I said, sending him a polite smile. 

"Are you all celebrating something?" He spoke with a small laugh. 

I shrug. "Just a night out."

The guy nodded. "I'm Ethan."

"Y/N," I say. 

Dean's jaw tightened almost immediately. He didn't interrupt. Didn't move closer. Didn't drape an arm around me. He just stood there, hands still buried in his pockets.

The guy smiled again. "You want to dance later?"

I blinked. "Oh. " Before I could even think about how to answer, I shook my head with a polite smile. "Sorry."

I tilted my head slightly towards Dean. "I'm here with my boyfriend."

The guy followed my gaze for the first time. His smile faltered. "Oh... man, I'm sorry."

Dean met his eyes and offered a small nod. "No worries."

"Have a good night."

"You too," I said, with a slight smile, and the guy disappeared back into the crowd.

Neither Dean nor I spoke. The bartender returned, lining up the drinks across the bar. Dean silently picked up half of them while I grabbed the rest.

We started walking back towards the booth. The music swallowed the silence between us. After a few steps, Dean spoke so quietly I almost missed it. "Fucking dick," he mumbled as we passed the same guy.

I smiled slightly but wouldn't let him see it. 

Neither of us said anything more,  Dean carried half the drinks, I carried the other half, and when we reached the booth everyone immediately reached over to claim theirs.

Tucker finally grabbed his beer from Dean, a huge grin spreading across his face as he shouted, "Finally! I was dying over here!" He took a long swig, really enjoying the cold drink.

Sabrina laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased him, "Dude, you’ve only been without alcohol for like five minutes." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a playful smirk.

"It was a tough five minutes," he shot back, putting a hand over his heart like it was a big deal.

Garrett snorted, raising his drink in a toast towards Dean. "Cheers, bro!" he called out, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd.

Dean just nodded, kinda distracted, his eyes flicking between the group and the dance floor as he plopped down next to me.

Not too close, but not too far away. Just enough space to remind me that things were still kinda off. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and awkward, and I hated how obvious that little gap felt.

Hannah looked over at the dance floor, her eyes lighting up with excitement before she turned back to me with a big grin, her hair bouncing as she moved. "Hey, Y/N," she said, nudging my shoulder. "Wanna dance?"

I glanced around the table. Logan and Grace had already slipped out and were already out there again, Grace laughing as Logan dramatically pretended to hate every second of it.

"Yeah. "Why not?" I say with a small laugh, and Hannah grabs my hand and pulls me up before I can change my mind.

The dance floor was packed, everyone singing along to whatever remix the DJ had decided to play. For the first few songs, we just danced. Just laughing, singing the words we actually knew, making fun of the weird remixes the dj made.

For the first time all night, I wasn't thinking about Dean every five seconds.

Garrett finally made his way over, drink in hand and that goofy grin plastered on his face. "You two looked like you needed saving," he shouted over the thumping music.

Hannah laughed, her eyes glinting with mischief. "From what?" she shot back, tilting her head with a playful smirk.

"Honestly, no clue." Garrett shrugged dramatically, pretending to be confused. "Figured I'd figure it out when I got here." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like it was a secret.

"You just wanted a reason to dance with your girl," I chimed in, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

Garrett acted all innocent, eyes wide. "I have no idea what you mean."

Hannah rolled her eyes, a smile breaking through as Garrett wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. She leaned into him, their laughter mixing with the music. 

We stayed there, swaying to the beat, the music changing every few minutes, and then, the opening notes of The Hills blasted through the club, the familiar tune sparking some excitement.

"Oh my God," I laughed, turning to Hannah, my eyes lighting up. "I love this song!"

"I knew you would!" She grinned, her excitement contagious. Without missing a beat, she grabbed my hands and spun me around in a joyful twirl, the world around us fading away as we danced together, completely lost in the moment.

I laughed, shaking my head as we danced together, and Halfway through the chorus, I felt someone step in behind me.

Not close enough to crowd me. Just close enough that I knew exactly who it was without turning around. Dean. I could feel his presence before I even looked.

He leaned down slightly so I could hear him over the music. "So..." His voice was low, carrying that familiar teasing edge that somehow always made my stomach flip. "You do still know how to smile."

I rolled my eyes before looking back at him over my shoulder. "Barely."

He smiled. "I'll take barely."

I turned back towards Hannah, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

A second later, his voice came again, quieter this time. "...I'm sorry."

The teasing had disappeared, just for those two words.

I froze for a fraction of a second, and Dean noticed.

"I know," he said softly. "I'm late."

I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the dance floor. "You are."

"I was an idiot." He admitted, running a hand through his hair, and a small laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

He caught it immediately, his eyes lighting up. "There it is."

I looked back at him, crossing my arms. "Don't."

"What?" He laughed, leaning slightly closer.

"You don't get to make me laugh just because you're apologising."

Dean's mouth curved into that familiar crooked grin as he leaned back against the bar. "I wasn't trying to."

"Liar."

"Guilty."

For a moment, neither of us said anything, the noise of the club surrounding us.

Dean then leaned in one last time, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You know..." he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear, "you're still the prettiest girl in this club."

I met his eyes. "...I'm still mad at you."

His grin softened. "I know, baby."

GARRETT GRAHAM MASTERLIST

GARRETT AU Here you’ll find my Garrett Graham AU series, all about being his girlfriend and getting pulled into his world. Expect teasing, warmth, late-night moments, and the kind of chaos that comes with being part of his group.

SERIES

ONE SHOTS

HEAD CANONS

RULES:

My writing contains smut, angst, which may contain emotional themes, and fluff, so read at your own pace and risk. I’m not responsible for how you interpret or react to anything you read here.

My work is mine. Please don’t copy, repost, translate, or publish anything I write on any platform. Don’t use my ideas, plots, or characters without permission. Respect the time and effort I put into my writing.

DEAN DI LAURENTIS MASTERLIST

DEAN AU Here you’ll find my Dean Dilaurentis AU series, all about being his girlfriend and life with the group. Expect drama, smut, soft moments, chaos, and everything that comes with dating the boy everyone warns you about.

SERIES

ONE SHOTS

HEADCANONS

RULES:

My writing contains smut, angst, which may contain emotional themes, and fluff, so read at your own pace and risk. I’m not responsible for how you interpret or react to anything you read here.

My work is mine. Please don’t copy, repost, translate, or publish anything I write on any platform. Don’t use my ideas, plots, or characters without permission. Respect the time and effort I put into my writing.

Every Party, Every Night Out...

Dean Di laurentis AU Masterlist

Summary: During a night out at Malones, they notice a girl flirting with Dean while he's at the bar. Dean crosses boundaries, leaving y/n hurt. The issue isn't cheating, but Dean's failure to recognise when someone is flirting and shut it down.

Malones was proper packed tonight, with laughter and chatter rolling through the place and blending with the thumping bass from the jukebox. It was a Friday night, so it made sense the whole place was buzzing.

Luckily, Hannah had the night off. She was genuinely excited to be sat in one of those comfy booths by the bar with us instead of running around serving everyone. Even so, Sabrina and Tucker were back at the hockey house binge-watching Harry Potter films. 

"No..." Garrett groaned dramatically as Hannah inserted another coin to select the music on the jukebox. "Seriously? Taylor Swift again? You've played her like three times tonight!" He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in exaduration. 

"Because she's amazing," Hannah replied, a mischievous grin lighting up her face.

"You've seriously lost it," he chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk.

Across from them, Logan leaned back in his seat, laughing into his drink, while Grace rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers on the table in exasperation. Dean had slipped away a few minutes earlier to fetch another round of drinks.

I leaned against the table, my eyes glued to my phone as I scrolled aimlessly through social media. Suddenly, Hannah nudged my shoulder, breaking my concentration. "Looks like your boyfriend's the life of the party tonight," she said, a playful glint in her eyes.

I looked up and saw Dean at the bar, just chilling and waiting for the bartender to get him a drink.

Next to him was this blonde girl I didn’t recognise. She had this huge smile and leaned in closer, saying something that made Dean turn his head.

“They’re probably just chatting,” she said, waving her hand like it was no big deal.

He gave her that charming grin he always had, and I felt this knot in my stomach.

The girl laughed, her eyes shining with interest. Then, without thinking twice, she reached out and touched his arm, her fingers lingering there for a moment.

I couldn’t help but watch as Dean laughed back, looking all relaxed and open. He didn’t even step away from her.

Hannah turned her head, her eyes going wide as she followed my gaze. "...Oh."

Garrett grimaced, shaking his head. "Yeah, she's totally flirting," he said, concern etched on his face.

"No kidding," Hannah scoffed, crossing her arms as she watched the scene unfold.

Logan glanced over his shoulder at the bar, letting out a low whistle. "Damn."

Grace followed his gaze, spotting Dean immediately. "...She is."

Garrett leaned back in his seat, his brow furrowing. "Does Dean even realize what's happening?" He let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head.

Logan snorted. "Dean could have a girl proposing to him, and he'd think she was just being nice."

Hannah shot him a look. "He's not that clueless."

"He totally is," Logan replied. "The guy smiles at everyone."

Grace turned to me, her expression softening. "You okay?"

"I’m good," I said, forcing a smile as I pulled my gaze from the bar for just a moment.

Hannah shot me a look that screamed 'liar', but she let it go.

Just then, the bartender finally handed Dean our drinks, but instead of coming back, he hung out at the bar, and another minute ticked by. The blonde girl next to him was just chatting away, her laughter ringing out like she was the star of the show, while Dean just smiled, looking all chill and relaxed as he talked to her.

Garrett shifted in his seat again, clearly annoyed. "Dude, he really needs to wrap this up and get back here."

I rolled my eyes. "You think so?"

Logan swallowed hard, glancing at the bar. "He probably thinks he’s just being nice," he said, though his voice didn’t sound too sure anymore.

Grace's brow furrowed. "Yeah, but she's like... touching his arm."

My stomach dropped at that, and we all turned to look.

Sure enough, the blonde was laughing at something Dean said, her hand resting lightly on his forearm.

Hannah let out a frustrated sigh. "Dean..." she breathed, her tone filled with concern.

Garrett scratched the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle slipping out. "Uh, this... might not end well."

"I don't think he's doing anything wrong," Grace said quietly, "but she definitely is."

Logan glanced between me and Dean, muttering, "He's about thirty seconds away from making this really awkward."

I stayed silent, my eyes glued to the scene unfolding before me.

Hannah squinted, her expression shifting. "Wait a sec..."

Before any of us could figure out what she was up to, she slid out of the booth and casually moved to the empty one behind us, just close enough to the bar to eavesdrop without being obvious.

"Well, there she goes," Garrett sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, super subtle, Wellsey."

"I need to hear what he's saying," Hannah whispered, glancing back at us, and I barely hesitated before following her.

Grace shot a look at Logan, and they both stood up too.

"We're actually doing this?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Garrett rolled his eyes and slid out of the booth after us. "Guess we're doing this."

We settled into the booth behind them, all pretending to be super into the hockey game on the TV.

A knot twisted in my stomach. I hated this. I hated that I felt the urge to eavesdrop. Dean hadn’t done anything wrong yet, but he also hadn’t walked away from the girl.

I swallowed hard, my fingers gripping the edge of the table as I watched the blonde lean in a little closer.

Dean finally lifted his left hand to grab his drink, the light glinting off his watch, and I noticed the girl’s eyes follow the movement.

"Oh," the blonde girl said with a teasing grin. "So, do you have a girlfriend or what?"

Dean smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, I do."

Her smile grew wider. "Lucky girl, huh?"

"I mean, I think I'm the lucky one," Dean chuckled, his voice light, and I felt a little flutter in my chest.

Grace shot him a faint smile. "That's cute."

"It really is," Hannah chimed in softly.

The blonde laughed again, tilting her head slightly.

"I don't know..." she said, her tone dripping with confidence. "I think I could change your mind about that."

The warmth faded as quickly as it had come, and I glanced over at Dean.

Just walk away. Please.

Dean shook his head, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Good luck with that."

Her laughter rang out, bright and teasing, like he’d just taken on a dare instead of shutting her down.

Beside me, Hannah's face fell. "...Dean."

"Bro..." Garrett winced, clearly uncomfortable.

Logan let out a slow breath, and Grace shot me a worried look. "Are you good?"

I couldn't respond... my throat felt tight.

I knew Dean, and I knew he wasn’t interested. He wasn’t about to leave Malone's with some random girl. But seeing him stand there, grinning while this girl flirted with him, and him just laughing it off instead of cutting it short...

It stung more than I wanted to admit.

That was enough for me.

Hannah squeezed my hand, her eyes soft with understanding. "I get why you're upset."

"I know he wouldn't cheat on me," I said quietly, trying not to cry. "But that's not really the point."

Grace nodded, her expression gentle. "I get it."

"It's just... every time we go out, this kind of stuff happens," I said, my voice trembling. "It's not just tonight... it's every party, every bar, every hangout. There's always someone."

Dean was always super friendly, polite, and charming. He never crossed a line, but he also never seemed to get where that line was.

My chest felt tight as I glanced back at the bar. He was still smiling, still chatting, and still standing there, completely clueless about how it was affecting me.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Sometimes I just wish he’d make it clear that she’s wasting her time."

Logan ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. "I don’t think he sees it that way."

Garrett let out a frustrated sigh. "He probably thinks he’s just being nice."

"Exactly," I replied, glancing back at Dean. "He’s being nice, and she’s totally taking that as a green light to keep going."

The booth fell silent, and I could feel the tension in the air. I reached for my bag on the stool.

Grace shot me a concerned look, her brow knitted together. "Y/N?" She spoke softly, but before she could continue, I spoke.

"I think I’m gonna head out," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hannah whipped her head around, surprise written all over her face. "You don’t have to leave," she urged.

"I kinda do," I replied, feeling the weight of my emotions.

Garrett shot a glance at Dean, still hanging out at the bar, then back at me. "Wait, it might not be what you think," he said, trying to calm me down.

A dry laugh slipped out. "I know exactly what it is," I shot back, frustration creeping into my tone.

Logan frowned, concern etched on his face. "Are you sure you don’t want to wait for him to come back?" he asked.

I shook my head, firm in my decision. "No," I said, my determination clear.

Just as I was about to hop off the stool, Dean turned around, drinks in hand, a huge grin lighting up his face. The moment he spotted me, his smile was like a spotlight. "There you are." He smirked, giving me a once-over, and my heart felt like it was about to burst as I walked straight past him. "...Babe?"

I didn’t say anything.

Dean frowned, leaning down to set the drinks on the table before catching up with me near the entrance.

"Hey." Dean said, concern slipping into his voice. I kept walking, pretending I didn’t hear him. "Y/N."

I stopped. My throat tightened as I swallowed and pulled in a slow breath. "What?" I asked, trying to sound steady.

He blinked once, head tilting a little like he was trying to read me. "What's wrong?" His voice softened at the end, and something in me let out a short, humourless laugh.

"Seriously?" I scoffed.

"Yeah." He frowned, stepping in closer. "Tell me what's wrong, baby."

"That girl." I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep my cool.

Dean’s eyebrows lifted fast. "What girl?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"The one you’ve been laughing with for the last five minutes," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could.

"Oh." His confusion deepened. "She just started talking to me." He said as he shook his head like he still wasn’t seeing the issue.

"And?" I pushed, raising my eyebrows.

"And..." He let the word hang for a second. "I talked back?"

I stared at him, disbelief tightening in my chest. "You didn’t think to end the conversation?" I scoffed.

"I did." He said it fast, like he wanted it to land before I could argue.

"No," I said, steady and sure, "you didn’t."

He scoffed under his breath but let out this short laugh anyway, the kind he does when he thinks I’m being dramatic. "I literally told her I have a girlfriend. Baby, I don’t get it."

I felt my stomach twist, because, of course, he didn’t. "You also stood there smiling while she touched you," I shot back. His face shifted, confusion tightening into a bit of annoyance.

"I wasn’t flirting," he said, crossing his arms like he needed something to do with himself.

I shrugged, even though my chest felt tight. "I didn’t say you were."

"Then what’s the problem?" He asked, shaking his head like he was trying to piece me together.

"The problem is she was," I said. 

Dean sighed, frustration flickering across his face, and for a second I wondered if he actually understood how stupid it made me feel.

"Babe-"He started, but I cut him off. "No."

"You know I'd never." He tried again, his voice dipping softer.

"I know." I swallowed hard, the words feeling heavier than I meant them to.

He paused, looking a little lost. "Then why are we arguing?" He shrugged, and it wasn’t dramatic, just confused in that Dean way that made my chest tighten.

"Because," I said, "you stood there entertaining it." My voice was sharper now, frustration creeping in even though I didn’t want it to.

"I was just being nice." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking away for a second like he knew that wasn’t the best excuse.

"You could've just walked away." I shot back, tapping my foot because I couldn’t stand still anymore.

"I had the drinks in my hands," he replied, sounding defensive but also kind of guilty.

"You already had the drinks." I pointed out, crossing my arms tight over my chest. Part of me hated how petty I sounded, but the other part couldn’t let it go.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated, closing it again as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out where to start.

I folded my arms tighter, feeling the tension rise in my chest. "You smiled at her," I said, narrowing my eyes because the image was still stuck in my head.

"I smile at everyone." He defended himself with a small shrug, like that should fix it.

I get that, but...

"You laughed at her joke." I pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"She made a joke." His voice dipped into that defensive tone he used when he knew he wasn’t helping his case.

Then just laugh and walk away. Why was that so hard?

"You stayed there talking to her." My frustration bubbled over, and I hated how obvious it sounded.

"I wasn’t thinking." He admitted, eyes dropping to the floor. The second he looked down, my heart sank. He wasn’t lying. He really hadn’t thought about it at all.

You didn’t walk away.

"I know." I said softly, the weight of everything settling in my chest.

Why couldn't you just walk away?

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, and Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze shifting away from mine. "You’re blowing this out of proportion." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Am I really? 

I locked eyes with him, trying to find something that made sense. "No, Dean. I’m frustrated because it feels like you have no idea why I’m upset." My heart was pounding, and I hated how shaky my voice sounded.

He tightened his jaw, straightening like he was bracing for impact. "I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m not interested." Irritation crept into his voice, sharp enough to sting. "In anyone else for that matter." 

"I never questioned your loyalty, Dean," I shot back, anger bubbling up even though I tried to keep it steady.

"What do you want me to say?" He leaned in a little, eyes narrowing, his voice sharper now.

"I just need you to put a stop to this." I replied firmly, even though my heart was racing.

"I did." He insisted, crossing his arms tight across his chest.

"No, you didn’t." I said, heat rising in my cheeks.

Dean’s face tightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "I can’t just be rude to someone who’s talking to me." His voice had that defensive edge, but there was uncertainty in his eyes that made my chest twist.

"I’m not asking you to be rude." I said, swallowing hard to steady myself.

"What do you want, then?" He pressed, brow furrowing like he genuinely couldn’t figure me out.

"I’m asking you to make it clear she’s wasting her time." My voice stayed steady even though the tension was starting to feel heavy.

"I thought I did." He shot back, frustration slipping into his tone.

"You thought wrong." I countered, crossing my arms tight over my chest.

A heavy silence settled between us, the muffled music from inside the bar bleeding through the closed door. It made everything feel even more tense, like the whole world was holding its breath.

Dean stepped closer, his expression shifting as he searched my face for something he could hold onto. He sighed, swallowing before running a hand through his hair. "Come here." He said it gently, like he thought that alone could fix everything.

I stepped back. The disappointment that flickered across his face hit harder than I wanted it to. "Seriously?" he murmured, letting out a slow breath.

A lump formed in my throat. "I’m going home."

"Then I’ll come with you." His voice was laced with concern, the kind that usually made me cave.

"No." I shot back, firm.

"Y/N, baby." He tried again, softer this time, like he was hoping I’d bend.

"I said no." My resolve tightened even though my chest felt messy.

He let out a sharp exhale, frustration settling into his posture. "So you’re just leaving?" Disbelief crept into his voice.

"Yeah." My heart was racing, but I didn’t let it show.

"Over this?" He pressed, searching my eyes like he was trying to find the part he was missing.

I met his gaze, feeling the weight of everything between us. "See? That’s exactly why I’m leaving."

He frowned, confusion clouding his features. "What does that mean?"

"It means you still think it’s just ‘this’." I gestured between us, the space that felt too heavy to stand in anymore.

I turned on my heel and started walking. My legs felt shaky, but I didn’t stop.

"Y/N." He called after me, desperation threading through his voice.

I kept moving.

"Babe." He tried again, but it only made my chest tighten more.

❅ SNOWED IN - Dean DiLaurentis

Warm lights, a quiet kitchen, and him.

A Short Series ✧

Dean AU Masterlist

Summary: A cozy, romantic moment unfolds after a chaotic movie night with friends. As the house quiets down, y/n and Dean share a dance in the kitchen while snow falls outside.

The credits of the last Hunger Games rolled, the last song fading into the background as the glow of the TV disappeared.

For a few seconds, nobody moved, the silence hanging in the air.

Then Garrett stretched dramatically across the sofa, his arms reaching high above his head, making a noise that sounded way too painful for someone who had just been sitting down for three hours. "I can't feel my legs," he announced, wiggling his toes as if testing their responsiveness.

Hannah looked over at him, completely unimpressed, and tossed a popcorn kernel at his head. "You have been lying there eating popcorn the entire time."

"Exactly. Very physically demanding," he replied, grinning as he rubbed his legs.

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, shaking her head at his antics.

Grace yawned beside Logan, stretching her arms out before immediately leaning into his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed as she settled in. "I'm dead," she mumbled.

Logan rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn as he leaned back into the couch, stretching his legs out. "Same," he murmured, letting his head fall back.

"You literally asked questions about the plot for the last forty minutes," Sabrina pointed out, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

Grace pouted, her brow furrowing as she fiddled with a loose thread on her sweater. "Because I was invested," she replied, her voice rising slightly.

"You asked why they didn't just leave the arena," Tucker said, raising an eyebrow and leaning forward, intrigued.

"Because I had a solution," she replied, gesturing animatedly with her hands, her excitement bubbling over.

"Your solution was seduction," he countered, smirking.

"Yeah. A good one," she insisted, nodding firmly, her eyes sparkling with determination.

Tucker chuckled, reaching for the empty bowl of popcorn and shaking it to emphasize his point. "Honestly, she's got a point."

"Don't encourage her," Logan muttered, shaking his head with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes.

Garrett stood up, stretching his arms high above his head, cracking his back with a satisfied sigh that echoed through the room.

"Alright, everyone. Great movie night. Emotional rollercoaster. Ten out of ten. Would never watch again," he declared, throwing his hands up dramatically.

"Woah, that is so rich coming from you; you cried," Hannah said, scoffing as she tossed a popcorn kernel at him.

"I did not," he protested, pointing a finger at her.

"You absolutely did," she shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.

Garrett pointed at her, a grin spreading across his face. "Those were man tears."

"They were not," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Still tears," he replied, shrugging with a mock-serious expression.

He dramatically saluted the room before making his way upstairs, his footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.

"Goodnight, losers," he called over his shoulder.

"You're literally the biggest loser here," Hannah shouted after him, laughter in her voice.

"Love you too!" he replied, his voice fading as he disappeared.

One by one, everyone disappeared, the sounds of their footsteps fading into the distance.

Grace dragged Logan upstairs, her hand gripping his arm as she pulled him along, mostly because he looked like he was going to fall asleep standing.

Sabrina and Tucker followed, still animatedly debating whether the movie ending was "beautiful" or "unnecessary emotional damage," their voices rising and falling with excitement.

Eventually, the house went quiet, the only sound being the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

And suddenly...

It was just me and Dean, standing in the dimly lit living room, the remnants of laughter and chatter lingering in the air.

I stood in the kitchen, collecting the abandoned bowls and cups left behind. Dean was leaning against the counter, a playful smirk on his face as he watched me.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach.

"Nothing," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I narrowed my eyes. "You're doing the thing."

"What thing?" he feigned innocence, leaning closer.

"The thing where you're staring at me because you think you're being subtle."

A grin tugged at his mouth, and he pushed off the counter, closing the distance between us.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice low and teasing.

"Dean."

"Y/N."

I shook my head, trying not to smile, but the way he was looking at me made it hard.

He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against mine. "You know you don't have to clean all this, right?"

"I know," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

He tilted his head, his expression softening for a moment. "I want to."

Then, because he was Dean, he ruined the moment with a cheeky grin. "Wow. So responsible. Should I be concerned?"

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "You're unbelievable."

"That's what you've been saying since you met me," he shot back, his tone playful.

"And yet you're still here."

"Yeah," he said easily, taking the bowl from my hands and lingering a moment too long. "Funny how that worked out."

We cleaned up together, bumping shoulders occasionally as we moved around the kitchen, the air thick with unspoken tension.

It was quiet, and not awkward quiet. The comfortable kind. The kind where we didn't need to fill every second with noise.

Outside, snow continued falling, covering the windows in a soft layer of white. The whole house felt different at night. Less chaotic. Less like a place full of loud hockey players and their equally loud girlfriends. Just warm lights, a quiet kitchen, and him.

Dean dried the last plate and set it down, then glanced towards the little radio sitting on the counter.

"You know," he said, his voice dropping to a shady whisper, "I think this night needed something."

I looked over, intrigued. "What, more cookie disasters?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "No. We've suffered enough."

I smiled as he turned the radio on, a slow song filling the kitchen.

I watched him for a second, waiting for whatever sarcastic comment was coming next, but instead, Dean just looked at me, his gaze intense. Then he held out his hand, a playful challenge in his eyes.

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth. "What?"

He raised his eyebrows, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Don't make this weird."

I laughed softly. "I'm not."

"Good," he said, his voice low as I placed my hand in his.

"Tired?" he asked, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

"A little," I mumbled.

He pulled me closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Dance with me anyway."

I shook my head, but I let him pull me into him, my heart racing.

Bare feet against the wooden floor, his arms wrapped comfortably around me as we swayed slowly, the world outside fading away.

There was no audience. No friends making comments, telling us to get a room. Thankfully there was no Garrett yelling across the room.

It was just us.

I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling safe and cherished. Dean wasn't the kind of person who always said exactly what he felt. He showed it instead... He made jokes instead. 

The way he always reached for my hand.

The way he pulled me closer without thinking.

The way he made sure I was okay before worrying about himself.

His lips pressed softly against my temple, sending shivers down my spine, making me smile into his shoulder. "You're being suspiciously sweet tonight."

Dean glanced down at me, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned closer. "Don't tell anyone. It ruins my reputation," he smirked, his lips curling mischievously.

I laughed, feeling all giddy as I playfully nudged him with my shoulder. "And it's back," I said, trying to suppress the smirk that threatened to break free.

"What?" he chuckled, tilting his head in mock confusion.

"The attitude," I replied, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned in even closer, his smirk widening. "You're welcome," he said, his voice low and teasing. I shook my head, holding onto him tighter, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

Outside, the snow kept falling, and inside, everyone else was asleep. Dean then glanced towards the window, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned closer to me. "Best snowstorm ever."

I smiled, teasing him as I nudged his shoulder. "I don't know. The cookies were pretty bad..." I trailed off with a laugh, playfully rolling my eyes.

He chuckled quietly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned back against the counter. "Yeah, almost took out the whole house," he said, pretending to frown dramatically.

"Almost?" I raised my brows, trying not to laugh as I crossed my arms.

"Okay, definitely," he admitted, his grin widening as he stepped a little closer.

I looked up at him, my heart racing as I felt the warmth between us. "But worth it?"

Dean didn't even hesitate, his voice steady. "Yeah."

A small smile pulled at my lips as I took a step back, pretending to think it over. "Really?"

He shrugged, his usual cheeky grin returning. "Yeah. Got a movie night, free entertainment watching everyone lose their minds, and I get to end the night dancing with my favorite person."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Favorite person?"

"Don't get cocky," he said, his voice playful.

I laughed, feeling lighthearted. "Too late."

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, and for once, neither of us rushed to fill the silence.