Agent Singer and Dean had been arguing for about five minutes by this point. Y/N had moved to the diner's bar, where Jo had been kind enough to serve her. Ash, who had finally come out to say hello to his friend, had immediately retreated to the kitchen.

Jo leaned over the counter, her eyes moving back and forth between the singer eating silently and the argument in the corner. "Haven't they tired themselves out yet?"

Y/N shrugged. "I think they'll stop when they run outta air."

Jo laughed. "Give it a minute more, and my mom will come out and shut them up."

Y/N shuddered. "Maybe we should warn them."

"You kiddin'?" Jo grinned evilly. "And miss the show?"

The girls giggled quietly to themselves, eagerly awaiting the smackdown.

Ellen did come out a few minutes later, and Jo would later describe what happened next as "so good, she felt like she should've bought a ticket."

Within moments of Ellen entering, both men were seated back in the booth, looking like two kicked puppies.

Y/N, now finished with her small breakfast, slid in beside Dean, linking their fingers together as soon as they were close enough. He squeezed her hand, even giving her an awkward smile.

"I thought I told you—" Agent Singer started gruffly. Jo cleared her throat at the bar, which made the federal agent stop speaking. He took a deep breath and, with once more began speaking, though this time, with a softer tone. "I thought we discussed you not tellin' Dean."

"She didn't," Dean grumbled. "I ain't stupid, Bobby."

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Well, now you know, then. I'm guessin' you want this to be our last meeting."

Y/N spoke again. "No, it's not."

At the same time, Dean had answered. "I wish."

The look on the agent's face was priceless. "What?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "I'm not stopping. I'm going to help you, Agent Singer."

Dean's frustration was rolling off of him in waves, and, in his corner of the booth, he began pouting a little, though he'd never admit it.

Agent Singer\s brown eyes switched back and forth between the couple, a mixture of confusion and amusement showing on his face. "So, why is Dean here?"

"He isn't taking the news well, that's all," she answered.

Dean grumbled, running a hand down his face.. "Look, Bobby, no offense, the last time you showed up at the club it was a gas and all, but I'd appreciate not sitting through a repeat performance."

That made the older man noticeably uncomfortable. He apologized quietly, sincerity dripping from his words.

Dean shook his head. "I didn't…I just need you to understand why I'm—"

"I've always understood, boy," Bobby interrupted.

Dean licked his lips as he searched for the right words.

Y/N squeezed his hand. "Bob—Agent Singer," she began. "Dean just wants to make sure I'll be safe. That's all. He's not helpin' or hurtin' us."

Bobby sighed heavily. "I wish you'd help us, boy."

"Bobby, I'm already doin' more than I ever wanted to. This is too much. You want my help, you put a detail on Sammy," Dean chuckled.

Bobby sat back in his seat. "Really?"

"What?"

"Is that all it takes?"

"Bobby, no—"

"Well," Y/N interrupted. "You did say—"

"I was joking, sweetheart."

"It'd be nice to see the kid. He's gettin' married soon, isn't he?" Bobby turned to the singer, obviously amused.

"So everyone says," she smiled.

Dean leaned forward on the table, resting on his elbow. "No, both of you—"

""You are the one that offered, Dean," she cut him off. "And if you're gonna insist on comin' here and havin' breakfast with us each week,you should at least give Agent Sin—excuse me, Bobby—a reason to pay for your food. It's really the polite thing to do."

"Your girl knows what she's talkin' 'bout," Bobby added. "Don't screw this," he motioned between the couple. "Up."

"Ellen already gave him the talk."

"Shit, Ellen? You know you don't wanna get on her bad side, boy."

"Enough!" Dean's face was beet red, in embarrassment or frustration, they weren't sure.

There was a tense moment of silence before the pianist spoke again. "Y/N's already involved."

"Neck deep," she clarified.

His jade eyes narrowed at her, but he continued without comment. "What was her price?"

"I resent the accusation that he bought me," she frowned, her fingers moving lightly along his side in a silent threat.

She saw him bite back his laughter, but it was subtle enough that, perhaps, Agent SInger hadn't noticed it.

The smirk on Bobby's lips told her that he had. But, he answered, "She wanted me to keep you safe."

Dean blinked at that. "Wait…what?"

"That's all she asked for, Dean," he rolled his eyes. "What part of 'don't screw this up' are you not gettin;?"

Dean's hand squeezed hers, and she knew that the two would have to discuss this further later. "So…even if I don't help…it'll still look like I am if Crowley ever finds us."

The silence returned.

Dean continued, "So…if you swear to me that Sam'll be safe."

Bobby sighed heavily. "I can tell you that I'll have some California morons watchin' him."

"Well, that's reassuring."

"Unless you wanna bring him out here so I can keep a close eye on him—"

"No."

"Then that's what I can offer."

Dean ran his hand down his face again, sighing heavily. His shoulders were slumped like he was carrying a huge weight. Y/N's free hand went to his upper arm, rubbing his bicep soothingly. His hand squeezed hers again.

"Fine," Dean spoke without looking up from the tabletop. "I'll…I'll help."