Dean didn't think much of it the first night she went out alone. Not until she strolled into the bunker the next morning with sex hair and a smile that he hadn't given her.

He figured she had second thoughts about sleeping with him. He thought they were pretty awesome together, but maybe she didn't. Maybe she wasn't sure how to tell him, so she just pretended nothing had changed. But the next night, she was back in Dean's bed. Mind-blowing, amazing, sweat-drenched sex left him certain she was his.

Two nights later, he was looking for her, but only found Sam. She had gone out again. Alone. Sam knew the bar, so Dean grabbed his keys and went to find her.

She was on the dance floor with some guy, and his hands were all over her. Dean took two large steps in her direction, determined to pull the guy off of her, until she kissed him. Deep, hard... no question in Dean's mind where that kiss was leading.

Dean left without a word.

A case put them on the road for a few days. Their first night back in the bunker, she pulled Dean into her room. He almost questioned her then, but her hands squeezed his rear and pulled him against her, and he gave in.

Not even a week passed, and she was out again. Dean went back to the bar and watched her from a corner booth through the sea of people. The same guy took her out onto the dance floor. He touched her in ways that made Dean's jaw clench. When she squeezed the guy's ass, Dean couldn't take it. He left without being seen.

Dean barely slept that night, waiting for her to get home. He heard her heels clicking down the corridor, and he stood in his doorway, leaning against the frame as she walked by.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Can't it wait 'til morning? I'm exhausted."

"It is morning."

He grabbed her hand, pulled her inside, and closed the door.

"Is something wrong?" she asked as she sat on the bed.

"Who's the guy?"

"Huh?"

"You've been seeing a guy. Who is he?"

"Just a guy," she shrugged. "A hookup. So?"

"It was your idea for us to sleep together."

"Yeah, it was. A good idea, if I may say so myself."

"That's what I thought, too."

"So, what's the problem?"

"This guy is the problem."

He closed the space between them and stood in front of her.

"Dean... are you jealous?"

"He was touching you," he said as he lay her back, "like I touch you."

"And you didn't like that?" she whispered.

"Not even a little."

He slipped his hand beneath her shirt and trailed his hand up her side. His thumb brushed her over her ribs, skimming the underside of her breast through the thin material of her bra. His face hovered over hers, his lips just out of reach as his warm breath fanned over her face.

"I thought we were just fooling around," she said.

"What made you think that?"

"Well... that's what you do, right? One night stands and casual flings?"

Dean pulled back just a little and stared into her eyes.

"You think that's all you are to me?"

"I did. Now, I'm not so sure. But you went to the bar alone a few times after our first time together, and-"

"You assumed I was with another woman."

"Well... yeah."

"I just went to drink. That was always after a bad hunt. I needed to be alone."

Dean thought back. Her nights out were always after one of his. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her further onto the bed, lying on top of her.

"You were getting back at me?" he asked.

"Not really. I was just hurt. So, that first night, I got really drunk and ended up going home with that guy."

"But you kept going back to him."

"Just to drink... and maybe feel wanted. He kept trying to get me in bed again."

"You mean you didn't?"

"Just the one time."

"Sweetheart," Dean said as he squeezed her breast through her clothes, "if you ever want to feel wanted, you don't have to leave this bunker. Or the car, or whatever motel room we're staying in." He kissed her lips and rubbed his nose along hers. "I always want you."