The next morning came much too soon.

Y/N awoke to the feeling of fingers running up and down her spine. She smiled and snuggled closer into her lover. "G'mornin," she mumbled against his chest, not yet opening to her eyes.

"Good morning," he said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Gotta say, Winchester," she tightened her grip around him. "This is a nice way to wake up."

"Agreed," he chuckled.

They lay there for a few moments more before the growling from Dean's stomach became unbearable.

Y/N tried to pull away, but Dean refused to let her go. He rolled them over, leaning over her and attaching his lips to her neck. She went between giggling and moaning Dean's name.

Then her hands trailed down his sides, and he barked out a laugh.

The couple stared at each other with wide eyes. Then Dean's emerald ones narrowed in what was supposed to be a threatening manner.

Y/N pursed her lips, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold in her laugh.

"Not a word, Y/L/N."

Her shoulders shook harder.

"Y/N…"

"You're…you're ticklish?"

"Shut your mouth, Y/N," he growled.

She threw her arms around his shoulder, burying her face into the junction of his neck as her stifled laughter began to leave her.

Dean sighed dramatically. "Fine, see if I make you breakfast now," he grumbled.

She let go enough to let herself fall back onto the mattress. "I swear, Dean, that I will only use this to my advantage when we're at home."

He groaned flopping onto his back. "I'm never gonna live this down."

"Nope," Y/N licked her lips, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth as her tongue retreated. She then took a deep breath and straddled her lover, letting the blanket fall away and exposing herself completely.

His pupils dilated even as a look of shock came over him.

She smiled coquettishly (she hoped), and leaned down, brushing her lips against Dean's. "But maybe I can make it up to you…?"

She squeaked as she was suddenly flipped over and given a wonderful repeat performance from the previous night.

Y/N and Dean had settled in rather nicely to their new life together. They went into the club each day (when she had walked in on wobbly legs the day after their first night together, Gabe ended up getting his fin back from Benny), performed, and went home.

Dean refused to leave her side the entire time.

At first, she thought it was because he was constantly stealing kisses and tracing her fingers over any bit of exposed skin he found. Ever since they'd made love, he was a lot more tactile, looking for any excuse to touch her.

Then she thought harder on it.

He would wait for her in the hallway when she changed, not in the bar with Benny and Cas. He wouldn't let her alone for even a second. As much as she loved him, she was desperate for some breathing room.

She didn't think that it was because of the sex, though. That was definitely a thing they were exploring, which was definitely not a problem for her.

However, she noticed that he seemed to position himself to block her view of anything that could help Agent Singer.

He'd stand with his back to Crowley's office, distracting the singer with kisses and whispers into her ear of what he planned to do with her once they returned home for the evening.

She wasn't stupid, however, and she knew his game.

Which is why she wasn't surprised when Friday morning rolled around, and Dean was insisting he join her for their meeting.

"What do you think will happen, Dean?" she huffed, sitting in the bed, holding the blanket to her chest.

The pianist had just slipped into his pants, buttoning them up and refusing to make eye contact with her. "Nothin' with me around."

She groaned, rolling her eyes. "Dean, I'll be fine. You should stay home, get some rest for tonight."

"Can't do, sweetheart," he gave a strained smile before pulling on his undershirt.

She huffed, crossing her arms.

He sighed, walking over to the bed to sit next to her. He pried one of her hands from her, taking it and lacing their fingers together. "C'mon, doll," he whispered against her knuckles. "Please don't leave me here. I'll go crazy."

She glared at him. "Fine. But you don't…don't start nothin', you got me?"

He nodded, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Thanks baby."

"You're lucky I love you," she mumbled.

He smiled softly. He let her hand go and grabbed a dress from the closet. "C'mon, I'm starving!"

The Roadhouse had, in a lot of ways, become a safe haven for Y/N over the few weeks that she'd been helping Agent Singer.

So, she was nervous. She knew that Dean knew everyone inside already, but hadn't spoken to them in some time, probably since he began at Crowley's. What if it was awkward? What if she was intruding? What if they decided that she wasn't good enough for him?

It was official: nothing good could come of this.

Dean had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close and trying to protect her from the biting early morning wind. He pushed open the door to the diner with his free hand.

The bell rang, signaling their arrival to the seemingly empty restaurant.

Dean offered to take her coat. Y/N shrugged it off her shoulders and he took it from her after removing his own coat. With both wrapped over his arm, he took her hand in his and began moving to a booth near the door.

She didn't move, which caused him to look back confused. "We got a regular spot," she explained, pulling him towards the back.

He followed, not saying a word. She scooted into the booth, with Dean sliding in beside her. His arm rested on the back of the booth, almost like it was back around her shoulders. She instinctively cuddled into his side some more, hating an even inch between them.

A few more moments passed before Jo walked up, looking down. "Hey, Y/N, sorry, we got in a lil' later than–" she stopped short once she looked at her friend and instead saw the pianist. "D-Dean?!"

He smiled awkwardly. "Hey Jo."

She huffed out a laugh. "That's all you got? Where the hell ya been?"

He shrugged. "'s complicated."

"Bullshit."

Y/N snorted at that, reminding the blonde that she was there. "Oh…oh."

Dean frowned. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Nothin', just…are y'all…" she motioned between the two of them. "Y'know?"

The singer nodded. "Um, yeah, actually."

Jo revealed a big grin. "That's swell!" she then turned to him, her chocolate eyes narrowing and the smile falling from her face. "Dean, you better be treatin' her right!"

Y/N laughed at that. "He's been wonderful."

"He better be! He knows what'll happen if he screws this up," she needled.

Dean gulped, looking scared as hell. Y/N's head cocked to the side. "What, Dean, ya scared of Jo?" she teased.

He shook his head. "Jo? No. Her mom? Hell yes."

The girls laughed at that. Jo then took Dean's order, already knowing Y/N's, and headed back. She promised to send everyone by to say hello, and that only seemed to mortify him more.

Maybe this wasn't so bad.

Ellen had come out a few minutes later with the biggest grin she'd ever seen on the older woman. She stood there, threatening to not move until she got a hug from the Winchester. He'd reluctantly agreed and Y/N wished for nothing more than a picture of the moment. His embarrassed and slightly guilty expression was priceless.

Ellen had reiterated her daughter's threat, silently promising terrible things to him if he broke Y/N's heart.

"Glad to know where your priorities lie," Dean had grumbled.

When he'd plopped back down in his seat, Y/N had pulled him into a kiss.

He smiled into it, calming a bit.

When she pulled away, he cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. "They're never gonna make good on their threat."

"Why, do they often make threats they don't keep?"

"No, 'cause I ain't stupid enough to let you go."

Her face turned beet red at that, and she bit her bottom lip as she beamed. She looked down, picking up his other hand and playing with his fingers. "Good."

With that, their lips met again, Dean's hand moving from her cheek to the base of her skull, holding her close.

Then the bell over the door jingled.

They pulled away, both turning towards the door.

In strutted federal agent Robert Singer. He was yawning, his eyes closed and mouth open. He was halfway out of his coat before he noticed the new addition to the table.

"Hey Bobby," Dean gave a tight smile.

Agent Singer sighed heavily. "Balls."