Title credit - Jealousy by Queen
The prompt for this was television-towel-box of chocolates from jacklesverse bingo on tumblr and it was written for the SPN FanFic Pond Valentine's Day Challenge. This is also my first submission for the alphabetquest on tumblr, using the prompt jealousy.
Summary: In the aftermath of the Leviathan's attack on Bobby's house, Dean finds himself laid up and with few things to be happy about. Katrina's renewed presence in his life seems to be the only upside. But when a moment of jealousy pushes him towards an ill-advised act of sabotage, even that threatens to unravel. Set early season 7
Warnings: Some fluff, angst. Cursing. References to drugs, sex, and alcohol. Jealousy. If I missed anything, let me know.
Original posting date 2/12/2025
"Hey, Sam, you wanna pass me a beer?"
…
"Sam?"
….
"Sam!"
It was on the third attempt that Dean found himself balling up the receipt that had fallen off the takeout bag and tossing it in the direction of his younger brother. Sam jumped when it made contact, his head quickly swiveling around, eyes wide in surprise before Sam's poker face slid back into place. Dean tried not to frown.
"Sorry. What's up?"
"Dude."
Somewhere, Dean knew it wasn't Sam's fault… that some patience was warranted. But patience was something that had been in short supply as of late, and Dean wasn't in the mood for yet another reminder of everything that had managed to become even more fucked up in their lives since Cas had decided to go nuclear. His baby brother's broken brain, unfortunately, was a strong reminder.
"Yeah, I know, sorry, man. What'd you need? I'm getting up anyway."
Dean sighed and nodded towards the six pack on the coffee table.
"Just another beer."
Sam passed it over but stood anyway, stretching as he did. Dean popped the top and watched him carefully. He wasn't totally sure what he was even looking for, but the incident in the warehouse was still weighing on him heavily, and keeping a close eye on Sam was the only thing he could think to do.
Especially in his state. Fucking compound fracture. Until the damn cast came off, there wasn't much more he could do.
"I think I'm gonna go check in on Bobby. You good here?"
Dean grunted. He knew Sam was more than likely just looking for a reason to get away, that he realized Dean had noticed him zoning off and didn't want to deal with it, but calling him out wasn't worth it. And as Sam wandered off, Dean sighed and settled back into the couch, sipping at the beer and going back to flipping through his daytime TV options.
It had been weeks since Cas had basically imploded, unleashing what was seeming like the next Apocalyse-level threat on all of them in the process, and Dean wasn't sure how many more hits he could take.
They'd lost Cas - and fuck did he have a crap load of conflicting emotions about that.
Sam's melon was completely busted - in ways Dean was pretty sure they weren't gonna be able to fix.
Bobby's house - the damn near closest thing he'd ever had to a home base - had been torched and burnt to the ground.
They didn't have a fucking clue how to hurt, let alone kill, earth's newest monsters, and these freaks had the advantage of knowing everything Cas did to boot.
That Dean was completely laid up with a broken leg was just the cherry on top of the nightmare sundae, and he felt like he was about to snap any moment.
The rest of the day passed much the same as the previous ones had: Bobby blustered in at one point, checking on him and still with no news about the world's least wanted. Sam drifted around the house, seeming more lost than anything but managing to mostly pass for normal. Dean found himself flipping through Spanish soaps and Dr. Sexy. Every time he tried to do something that should have been simple, like going to take a leak or grabbing something from the other room, he found his frustration mounting and his ever-present bad mood worsening. He'd been laid up before, but rarely for this long, and he sorely missed his regular mobility.
It was long after dinner, after everyone had gone their separate ways for the night, that Dean finally felt something ease in his chest.
After Bobby's house had been torched, they'd needed a place to lie low, and despite the fact that she'd become mysteriously distant since the springtime, Katrina hadn't hesitated to offer up her house.
Dean had been wary - he didn't know why she'd taken such a step back, but he knew there was something there, and he knew she was a brand of temptation he couldn't fucking afford. Bobby, however, had just looked at him and asked if he had a better suggestion when Dean started to push back on the idea. The conversation had ended there.
Despite his reluctance, staying with Katrina, being around her again, had easily become the only good thing Dean had going for him these days. It had been a little weird at first, like getting a peak behind the curtain, because Dean had quickly realized that for as close as they'd become in the last year, there were still parts of his life that were totally foreign to him.
He'd gotten to meet her little sister, Jenna, who he'd known about but had never so much as spoken to. She had the same fire as her older sister, but also an innocence he only wished he could have protected for Sam.
He'd learned that she was, in fact, just as disorganized and messy as her Jeep often suggested. Her backseat was always littered with shoes and various articles of clothing, discarded papers, and whatever other junk she didn't feel like dealing with, and she left the same trail of debris behind her in the house.
He also learned that when she wasn't hunting she worked either 12 or 24 hour shifts and often came home from her job as a paramedic somehow looking even more beat to hell than she did after a hunt. With work it wasn't so much about bodily injury - she'd come home looking a little rumpled, maybe with a scrape here, or smudges of dirt there, but definitely not bloodied and bruised like from chasing down supernatural threats. It was a different kind of weariness - one he could see in her eyes, in the way she held herself and in how she just seemed to be missing that indescribable spark. It reminded him of how his dad would come home when he was a kid, so defeated and broken, and seeing her like that tore him up more than he wanted to admit.
At least when she came home from work covered in blood, it was never her own. But there were still nights that she did. And those were usually some of the lowest points Dean seemed to see her at.
It was later that night, probably close to one in the morning, when Dean heard Katrina coming in through the front door. After weeks of crashing in the ground floor office she'd rearranged into a temporary bedroom for him, Dean had gotten used to the sounds of her comings and goings, and he could recognize just from the fall of her footsteps that it had been one of her rougher shifts.
He heard her kicking off her shoes… drop her crap on the living room couch a few beats later… keys tossed on the counter a minute later when she reached the kitchen. Across from him, the TV played dimly in the background - some rerun he'd hardly been paying attention to. Dean had been slumped into the pullout bed but pushed himself into a seated position just in time for Katrina's footsteps to pause by the double doors that separated them.
It had started by accident. One night he hadn't realized he hadn't shut the door all the way behind him on his way to bed, and after a brutal day of struggling with the crutches, Dean had refused to care about the one door that hung open as he settled into bed. When Kat had come home close to three in the morning, he'd been tossing and turning, struggling with some nightmare or other, and she'd noticed on her way to her own room. She woke him up, and that was the first time he noticed that weight she seemed to carry.
She'd offered tea. He'd suggested whiskey. It ended with them watching Bewitched reruns on the bed together and passing the bottle back and forth until she'd eventually passed out, curled into his side like she still thought he could protect her. Like everything hadn't fallen to shit on his watch because he hadn't been enough to stop it.
The next time Katrina had a late shift, Dean wouldn't admit it, but he'd left the door open on purpose. He couldn't even totally explain it to himself, but he justified it by saying he was just worried about her. That he wanted to make sure it wasn't a regular thing, her coming home like that, and if it were, that at least she weren't coming home to be on her own with it.
They were friends. Best friends. It was a normal thing for a friend to worry about.
He hadn't had many friends in his life, but he was pretty sure he was right about that.
That he stayed awake for the same reason was normal too. It's not like he needed more than four hours anyway. He probably would've been up regardless. At least that was the reasoning he came up with.
This was how Dean learned that it wasn't an every night thing, but it wasn't uncommon either, and a pattern started to form. Seemingly any time Kat worked one of those shifts that didn't have her getting home until the middle of the night, she found her way into his room to check on him, and they'd eventually fall asleep, watching whichever rerun he'd been able to find for her (Bewitched, more often than not, but sometimes Gilligan's Island). Until one night, Dean forgot to leave the door open and dozed off.
It was around 4am when he woke up, alone and confused as to what had disturbed him before realizing that Katrina had never showed up. Half-asleep, he didn't notice the shut door, and falling back to sleep had been a chore. An uncomfortable weight had formed in his stomach that he was determined to ignore. It was a good thing, he'd told himself, that she hadn't showed up. It wasn't like he wanted her to have a bad night. Looking forward to the quiet moments where it was just the two of them was selfish, and wasn't helping the promise he'd made himself to not cross the damn line with her.
The next morning when she came to the table for breakfast looking like death warmed over and didn't manage much more than a grunt with anyone, Dean finally realized what had happened. He waited until Bobby had gone out in search of news, Sam had retreated to the garage to clean their guns, and Jenna had retreated upstairs for a shower to say anything. He was back on the couch, and, with a fresh mug of coffee in hand, she wandered into the room, all but collapsing into the armchair nearby.
"You look like hell," he told her bluntly. Predictably, Katrina rolled her eyes and took a long drink from her coffee.
"Gee, Winchester, you sure know how to make a girl feel special. What're you, itching to get your other leg broken too?"
Dean snorted but didn't look away.
"I'm serious, Kat."
"Yeah, well, I'm serious. Fuck off."
A second later she leaned forward, reaching for the remote that was sitting on the end table next to Dean. Without thinking, he caught her hand, and when she met his eye - already giving him that what the hell look she was so good at - he squeezed.
"I didn't realize the door was shut. You coulda come in… you don't need an invitation. Or an excuse."
There was a flash of vulnerability, her features softening for just about a heartbeat, before her normal walls slammed back into place. A defense mechanism he recognized all too well.
"You think I'm tired just because -"
"I slept like crap too," he cut her off, "and I like when you come in and watch TV with me. That's all I'm sayin'."
Katrina faltered, her features softening, though there was no mistaking the anxious gleam in her eyes - the one that showed up when she was doubting herself.
"Yeah?"
Dean gave her a warm smile and nodded, finally releasing her hand, comfortable, now, that he had her attention.
"Yeah, Kat. I like spending time with you. It's probably the only good thing to come out of all the bullshit that's been goin' on lately."
Katrina bit her lip, looking conflicted for a moment. Color bloomed across her cheeks, but she didn't seem upset.
"I guess you're not that bad either."
After that, there wasn't a night that Kat came home from work she didn't at least check in on him. It didn't matter what kind of shift it had been either, she just showed up. On the good nights they laughed and drank, Katrina often quoting whatever rerun they were watching and both of them making up their own ridiculous commentary to go along with it. When she'd had a rough go of it they were quieter, with Dean letting her curl into him while he held her close. No mater the kind of night, it always ended the same way - with the pair of them falling asleep in front of the TV, wrapped in each other's arms, with neither one willing to talk about it or acknowledge that anything had shifted.
So that night, it was no surprise to Dean when Kat pushed the one door open as gently as she could - though the curtained glass still rattled in its frame - and stuck her head in. Dean was waiting, TV already turned to The Munsters - a rare find he knew she'd be excited for. Their eyes met and he couldn't help but sweep over her, instinctively looking for damage.
Katrina exuded every bit of the weariness Dean had expected, but he was relieved that tonight, at least, she seemed relatively intact. She'd already peeled off the top of her uniform, leaving her in a worn undershirt and the faded tactical pants he knew she hated. There were bags under her eyes, makeup smudged slightly around them, and a few loose strands of hair framing her face while most of it was still caught in a low ponytail. He couldn't spot any physical damage, at least not in the dim light, and he found himself breathing slightly easier.
"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted, giving her a small, soft smile. Katrina rubbed tiredly at her eyes but tried to return the gesture.
"You still up?" she asked despite the obvious. Dean nodded.
"Yeah. C'mon in. I found a good one tonight."
The smile that tugged at her lips then was a little more genuine, even if it still didn't reach her eyes.
"Yeah okay. Lemme just grab something to drink. You want anything?"
Ten minutes later, Katrina was on the pullout bed with him, clutching a spiked mug of tea with both her hands while she settled in on his left. "How's the leg?"
Dean shrugged and gave a half-hearted sort of grunt. The truth was his leg still hurt like a bitch, but he'd had worse, and his leg was the least of his concerns in that moment.
"About what you'd expect. How was your shift?"
Katrina made a noncommittal noise and pointedly avoided meeting his eye. "Busy," was all she said.
Dean would never admit it - not to himself or to anyone else - but those quiet hours in the middle of the night he got to spend with Katrina, the ones where it was just him and her and the rest of the world lay asleep quickly became the high point of his days. Some days, it felt like they were what he was living for.
They weren't sitting there for long when Dean noticed that Katrina seemed to be having a hard time staying still. Normally on the quiet nights, she settled in and, short of slowly gravitating into his orbit, she stayed put. Tonight, though, she couldn't seem to stop fidgeting, shifting near constantly, unable to get comfortable. Dean watched from the corner of his eye, trying to observe without catching her attention, and eventually he had an idea of what was going on.
"You fuck up your back again?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard and Katrina froze, her hands still clutched around the mug.
"What?" she asked after a beat, her voice just a bit higher than normal. "No, I'm fine. I just -"
But they both knew the answer, regardless of whatever bullshit she was about to try and peddle him. Dean shifted and reached out for her.
"C'mere."
The soft command had her falling silent again. It wasn't the first time she'd come home like this, either, but he wasn't sure if it had been enough times that she'd finally gotten past her need for the usual song and dance in which he'd have to convince her it really wasn't a problem, or if she'd still need the push. Katrina seemed to mull the same thing for a moment, her teeth digging into the flesh of her bottom lip, tempting in ways Dean refused to acknowledge, before she finally sighed.
"Thanks," she muttered.
Speaking to the level of familiarity they'd developed, Katrina shifted back and handed him over her mug of tea without even looking. Dean accepted it wordlessly, reaching to put it on the end table on his right before turning back to Kat. She settled between his legs, taking care not to jostle the one in the cast, and Dean dropped the remote into her lap before moving his hands to each of her shoulders and starting to work.
He lost himself in the feel of her warm skin beneath his palms, and the heat of her body against his. Slowly, he felt the tension start to ease in Katrina's muscles, especially as he worked lower. The small noises that started to escape her lips were sinful, and Dean knew he hit the mark when his hands reached her lower back and she let out a louder noise that threatened to stir something entirely inappropriate in him.
"What happened?" he asked carefully, knowing he had a better chance of getting an answer now that she was more relaxed. Katrina hummed and leaned into his touch.
"Stupid," she muttered, almost sleepily, though Dean knew it was thanks to the massage and not an indicator she'd be actually falling asleep any time soon. "I tweaked it early in the night on a call, and it was too busy to do anything 'bout it."
When she did eventually fall asleep that night, she was practically curled up in his lap, her head nestled against his chest and her arms around his waist while Dean leaned back against the part of the couch that was serving as a headboard. He knew his own back would protest in the morning, but in the moment he couldn't be bothered to care. Katrina was a notoriously horrific sleeper, and he'd be lying if it didn't fill him with at least a little pride that she seemed to be able to nod off so soundly with him.
These days, it was the only time he really felt like he could do anything remotely right, anyway. He wasn't sure it was deserved, but he appreciated that at least some part of Katrina still felt safe enough to let her guard down this way with him.
Of course, everything was different in the light of day. He and Kat didn't talk about whatever was going on between them in the middle of the night - almost as if they had an unspoken agreement not to. And if anyone noticed Katrina slipping out of his room in the mornings, they were wise enough to pretend they didn't.
What happened in those sacred hours were theirs alone, and Dean was content to leave it that way.
Part of him knew it was playing with fire, but he didn't want to stop. So the way he saw it, the longer he could pretend it wasn't happening, the better… the longer they could both pretend it was normal.
"Y'know, you really should try and get up, move around," Katrina called over to him the next day. It was midafternoon and she had a day off. Dean was back on the couch with the TV on and Sam was in the loveseat nearby, reading a book. Bobby had left earlier that morning on another reconnaissance mission and Jenna was out doing something with her friends, enjoying the remainder of her summer break.
"Yeah, I'll get right on that, sweetheart," he shot back sarcastically. From behind him, he heard Katrina huff.
"I'm only looking out for you, you jackass," she muttered, smacking the back of his head lightly as she came around the couch and dropped into the armchair. She was dressed in sweats and a Queen t-shirt, her hair pulled into a messy bun and a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Dean arched an eyebrow.
"Because you're one to lecture about healthy habits?" he asked. Katrina narrowed her eyes and tossed a pillow at his head. Dean only managed to block his face at the last second, and when it bounced off his arm and knocked into the coffee table, Sam looked up from what he was doing, startled by the commotion. "Oh, hey now! You see that, Sammy? That's abuse of the infirmed."
Katrina scoffed and tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Please. It's a broken leg, you big baby. You're not infirmed. Just-"
"So help me Kat, if you call me lazy again -"
"You've got at least four months you're gonna be-"
"Not this again," Sam complained, cutting both of them off and drawing their attention to him. "I swear, you two bicker like an old married couple."
Dean felt heat threaten to rise into his cheeks, even as Katrina rolled her eyes and began munching on more popcorn.
"Please. I think your brother would sooner strangle me than marry me."
"Aw, don't sell yourself short, Kat. At least I'd wanna strangle you before I'd wanna strangle plenty of other chicks," he teased. Sam sighed, Katrina glared, and that time he was catching a coaster that came flying at his face instead of a pillow.
They'd finally settled down when a few minutes later Jenna blew through the front door, a whirlwind of energy as she bustled into the house, pushing her sunglasses up atop her head and humming something. Katrina, Dean noticed, automatically moved to sit up straighter, but Jenna paused when she reached the doorway anyway, surveying all three of them a disapproving look she had to have learned from her older sister, the corners of her mouth tugging into a frown.
"All three of you are absolutely pathetic," she stated, disappointment clear in her voice. Sam spared her half a glance but was undeterred from his book. Dean had a soft spot for the kid and tossed back a smile with the shake he gave of his head. Katrina, he noticed, set the bowl of popcorn aside and reached for the beer she'd brought over with it.
"Come talk to me in ten years when you're working twelve hour shifts back to back and we'll talk," she bitched. "I've earned the right to lounge on my days off, thank you very much."
Jenna rolled her eyes and ruffled Katrina's hair affectionately as she passed behind the armchair to drop her stuff on the counter.
"You call it lounging, I call it hiding. C'mon, Trina. All you do is work, you need to have a little fun!" she called over her shoulder. Katrina took a swig of beer and flipped her off.
"I have plenty of fun, kid. I just do it differently than you."
The irony wasn't lost on Dean that Katrina had just been ragging on him not five minutes before for his own inactivity, but he'd seen this argument play out enough times to know better than to give Jenna any fodder. Still, that didn't stop the younger Black sister from turning, hands on her hips, to him for support.
"Oh, please. C'mon, Dean, back me up here. Doesn't she need to get out more? I bet if you didn't have that cast you'd be out enjoying your summer instead of wasting away in here like the world's ending or something."
The world was kind of ending, but Katrina had been very clear that Jenna wasn't to know about any of that. It was on the list of many things Jenna wasn't allowed to know about. A list that Dean knew full well included just how much Katrina had sacrificed for the kid, and exactly how rough things got behind the scenes.
It killed him to watch, but he wasn't in a place to judge. He'd have done the same for Sam if he could. He couldn't begrudge Katrina wanting to do the same.
That didn't change the fact that, privately, he agreed with Jenna that Kat could use a little more light in her life. Even if it was easier said than done.
"Y'know, Jenna, it's funny you should mention that. What rash of shit were you just giving me, Kat?"
Katrina shot him a withering glare, letting out a suffering sigh as she did.
"I get out plenty," she protested, and even Sam eyed her skeptically. "I just went to that concert," she insisted, her head swiveling to her younger sister. "Remember? Fran won those tickets off the radio, and we even stayed overnight at the hotel."
By that point, Dean had been there with Sam and Bobby for at least a month, and he had zero recollection of whatever concert she was talking about. So when Jenna scoffed, he wasn't surprised.
"That was two months ago. I'll say it again, you're absolutely pathetic. Which is why I took matters into my own hands."
Dean had to work not to laugh at the horrified look on Katrina's face, her eyes immediately going wide with fear and her whole body tensing as if preparing for impact.
Then Jenna started to actually talk, and Dean had to work even harder to keep his face from matching Katrina's.
He'd been expecting Jenna to have set something up for dinner maybe - a night out with Katrina's few remaining friends from high school Dean knew she saw on occasion, or maybe a forced shopping trip… movie tickets, possibly… they were all things that seemed in character for Katrina's energetic mini-me to have done. What Dean didn't expect was for Jenna to proudly announce she'd set her older sister up on a date.
"You did what?" Katrina sputtered, nearly upending the bowl of popcorn as she sat bolt upright. Jenna beamed, clearly pleased with herself.
"I set you up on a date! With Ryan Hutner! You remember him, don't you? He was on the football team when you were in high school, his little sister's my age - you used to gush over him when you'd run into him picking me up from school?"
Katrina's face turned a shade of crimson Dean had never seen on her before.
"Jenna, I'll kill you! That was years ago, I don't -"
"Oh save it," Jenna cut her off, steamrolling over her sister's protests. "A few of us dropped by Alyssa's house and I found out he's back in the area! We got to talking and all I did was mention you were still single. He seemed really interested in catching up - was real sorry he missed mom's services too. Anyway, I gave him your number and he's going to take you to dinner on Friday night!"
Dean's knuckles turned white as he gripped the arm of the couch. He forced his expression to remain neutral, even as jealousy clawed at his insides. Who the hell was this Ryan guy? And why did the thought of Katrina going out with him make Dean want to punch something?
"Jenna!" Katrina hissed, mortification clear on her face. "You can't just do shit like that. I'm a grown woman, I can handle my own love life."
"What love life?" Jenna scoffed. "All you do is work and mope around the house. Trust me, this will be good for you. Ryan's a great guy. He's got some fancy job, like, two towns over in marketing. Last year he bought a townhouse, he's got a dog, and he's still so good looking."
Dean watched as Katrina opened and closed her mouth, clearly at a loss for words. Part of him wanted to jump to her defense, to tell Jenna to back off. But he couldn't decide if that was his normal protective instincts kicking in or the part of him currently drowning in irrational jealousy, so he kept silent.
Sam, of course, snorted from his spot on the loveseat, clearly amused by the whole situation. In other circumstances, Dean probably would have been happy to see Sam smiling, but he couldn't find it in him just then.
"You know, Trina, it probably wouldn't be the worst thing for you to get out of the house for a change, instead of being stuck with me and Dean all the time. And Bobby. What's the harm in one date?"
Dean wasn't sure he'd ever wanted to hit Sam more. It was at least up there with the whole demon blood, Ruby debacle. Katrina, also, shot him a glare.
"Really, Sam?" she complained. "You're getting in on this bullshit too?"
Dean forced himself to speak up, knowing if he was quiet it would end up seeming too suspicious. But the words tasted like fucking ash in his mouth.
"C'mon, Kat. They're just looking out for you. Besides, I've never known you to turn down a good time."
"He was so excited, Treen," Jenna pleaded, but Katrina's eyes went to Dean, not her sister. Something unreadable flickered there before she sighed heavily.
"Fine. One date. But that's it, okay? And I don't wanna hear about it from any of you. And I swear, Jenna - no more meddling. You pull something like this again and -"
"Deal!" Jenna squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly and effectively cutting Katrina's threats off. "Oh, this is going to be so great! We need to figure out what you're going to wear… that is not going to cut it, and I've seen the rest of your wardrobe…"
As Jenna dragged a reluctant Katrina upstairs to raid her closet, Dean slumped back against the couch cushions, a sour taste in his mouth. Sam chuckled, shaking his head.
"Man, the look on Trina's face. Priceless."
"Yeah. Hilarious," Dean muttered, not sharing in his brother's amusement. Sam's laughter tapered off as he studied Dean more closely.
"You okay? You seem kind of... off."
Dean schooled his features into a neutral expression. Damn Sam. Even nine kinds of crazy, the kid was too perceptive.
"I'm fine. Just tired of being cooped up in this damn cast," he deflected. Sam raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah? Because, dude, you look like you wanna murder someone with your bare hands right now. You sure it's got nothing to do with this Ryan guy?" he pressed.
"Don't be ridiculous," Dean scoffed, though it sounded weak even to his own ears. "Kat can date whoever the hell she wants. Doesn't make a difference to me. We're just friends."
"Uh huh," Sam said, clearly unconvinced and holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Whatever you say, man."
Dean grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the TV, effectively ending the conversation. But as he stared unseeing at the screen, his mind raced.
It was fine. Totally fine. So what if Katrina was going on a date? It's not like they were... anything. Sure, they'd grown closer over the past few weeks. And yeah, maybe he looked forward to those quiet moments late at night when it was just the two of them. But that didn't mean anything.
His chest definitely didn't ache at the thought of her smiling at someone else the way she smiled at him. The thought of another man's hands on her didn't want to make him break things either.
That would be crazy.
They were just friends. Good friends. Best friends, even.
Which made it normal for him to feel protective. That's all this was. One friend, looking out for another friend.
But friends didn't feel like their stomach was filled with lead at the thought of the other going out on a date.
Friends didn't want to deck some guy they'd never even met just for asking their friend out… or being set up with said friend in this case.
Friends definitely didn't lie awake at night, replaying every touch, every smile, wondering what it would be like to cross that line they'd silently agreed not to cross.
Dean groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He was so screwed.
The next couple of days passed in a blur of tension for Dean, but Friday night still arrived far too quickly for his liking. He'd planted himself on the couch hours ago, pretending to watch TV while really keeping an ear out for any sound from upstairs where Katrina was getting ready. He was suddenly glad for the excuse to be stationary, since he knew it would keep his presence in the living room from being questioned.
He told himself he was being ridiculous. It was just dinner, a dinner Katrina didn't even seem all that into if the bitching she'd done that week was any indication. It wasn't like she was getting married or something, and even if she were, what should it have really mattered to him? He wasn't going down that road. He couldn't go down that road. But why shouldn't she be happy?
But no matter how many times he repeated these things in his head, the knot in his stomach refused to ease.
When he finally heard her descending the stairs, Dean's heart stuttered. He turned, trying to appear casual, but felt his breath catch as Katrina came into view.
Her hair was damp and tousled, like she'd just gotten out of the shower. In typical Katrina fashion, she'd kept her outfit simple - a black tank top and jeans, her feet still bare, and there was a fluffy towel in her hands she was using to roughly dry her hair. No makeup yet, cheeks still flushed from the hot water.
Fuck, she looked beautiful. And Dean felt his mouth go dry. Thankfully, Katrina didn't seem to notice.
"Hey there, gimpy," she greeted with her usual brand of sass. "You planning on staying glued to the couch all night?"
Dean rolled his eyes, grateful for their normal banter. It was easy, familiar… second nature, at that point.
"Gee, Kat, I don't know. I'm thinking since my leg's still broken, yeah, that's kinda the plan. Why, you offering for me to tag along?"
Katrina snorted.
"Please. I've seen you eat. No way am I picking up that bill, or asking Ryan to."
"Oh, hey now," Dean protested, pretending to take offense. "I can pick up my own bill… or Lemmy Kilmister can, anyway."
Katrina smirked but it faded quickly, and then she was biting her lip, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.
"This is stupid, isn't it?" she asked. "Letting Jenna talk me into this crap. I mean, what the hell am I doing? Going on a fucking date? With a guy in marketing… like that's not a recipe for disaster. It's not like I can let anyone actually get close, anyway."
The vulnerability on her face and in her voice overrode the selfish part of him that was screaming to convince her to stay home with him instead. He understood how she felt, but she wasn't in quite as deep as he and Sam were. She still had a chance at some semblance of a life, and he'd be damned if he was about to stand in the way of her happiness. God knew he wished it could have been different with him and Lisa. Hell, he wished it could be different now.
"It's not stupid, Kat," he told her genuinely. "Your sister's right, you deserve to have some fun. It's a date, not a lifelong commitment. Go out, enjoy yourself for once."
She studied him for a long moment, almost like she was looking for something in his expression. Whatever it was, though, she didn't seem to find it and with a small sigh she nodded and stood.
"Yeah, you're right. It's just a date. No big deal."
Before Dean could respond, a sharp knock sounded from the front door. Katrina jumped, startled, and tossed the damp towel she'd still been holding at Dean's head. He caught it and tossed it aside in time to note the absolutely panicked expression flit across Katrina's face.
"Shit, is that him? He's early! I'm not ready! Damn it, who doesn't know pick me up at 8 actually means pick me up at 8:10?"
Despite his own churning stomach, Dean couldn't help but snort.
"I dunno, Kat. Maybe someone that's not as used to you and doesn't already know you're crazy."
Katrina was already moving towards the door but flipped him off.
"Didn't ask for the commentary!" she called over her shoulder. Dean watched as she hurried up, smoothing down her jeans as she went.
From his spot on the couch, Dean had a clear view as Katrina opened the door to reveal her date. Ryan was tall and lean but broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a mega-watt smile. Dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, he looked every inch the preppy, young, successful professional Jenna had painted him to be, and Dean worked not to grind his teeth.
"Hey Trina," he said, his eyes roving over her figure appreciatively. "Been a while. You look incredible."
Even from this distance, Dean was able to spot the flush that spread across Katrina's face.
"Thanks," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You look great too. It's really good to see you again."
"Yeah," Ryan agreed warmly. "Been way too long. I'm glad we're doing this."
They chatted for a few moments, catching up and exchanging pleasantries. Dean felt his jaw clench as he watched their easy rapport. Katrina was clearly a little flustered, but she was smiling and laughing at Ryan's jokes. It was obvious there was a spark between them. It was also startlingly obvious to Dean that he'd never seen her quite like this before.
"So, um, I'm not quite ready. You mind hanging out down here for a minute? I won't be long, promise."
"No problem at all," Ryan assured her. And why wouldn't he? Dean wouldn't put up a fuss if he were about to be going out with a girl like Katrina on his arm either.
He knew what was coming before it happened. Katrina turned and led the guy into the living room, looking to Dean hopefully.
"Dean, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is Dean."
"Nice to meet you, man," Ryan said, stepping around her to shake Dean's hand. He resisted the temptation to break the guy's hand. "Trina mentioned she had some friends staying with her."
"Yeah," Dean nodded. "She's been letting me crash while my leg heals up."
"Dean, you mind keeping Ryan company a few minutes while I finish getting ready?" Katrina interjected. Dean plastered on his most charming smile, swallowing what he wanted to say. There wasn't exactly a choice.
"Sure thing, sweetheart. Take your time." The term of endearment had slipped out without him meaning for it to, and she flashed him a warning look.
"Great, thanks. I'll be right back."
And then Dean was alone with Ryan Hutner.
They shared a somewhat awkward smile and Dean found himself reluctantly nodding towards the armchair.
"Might wanna pull up a chair, man. Knowing Katrina that minute 'll turn into ten."
Ryan chuckled but settled into the seat. "Some things never change, I guess. She was always late to class too." An uncomfortable silence settled over them. Dean wracked his brain for something to say, but all he could think about was how much he wanted this guy gone. Ryan, at least, spared him the trouble of coming up with anything. "So, how do you and Trina know each other?"
It was an innocent enough question, one Dean should have been perfectly capable of answering. But something snapped, and words just started vomiting from his mouth before he could stop them - all, at best, half-truths and exaggerations. Mostly, they were just complete fabrication.
"Oh man, where to start?" Dean laughed, settling back into the couch. "Kat and I go way back. We met on this crazy road trip a few years ago through a mutual friend - she'd just gotten out of rehab. Was looking for a fresh start, you know?"
That they'd met through a "mutual friend" was the only shred of truth to be found. Maybe that she was looking for a fresh start if he stretched it - her mom had just passed… but it was pretty much bullshit. He didn't even know where the rehab lie came from. Ryan's eyebrows, however, shot up.
"Rehab?"
Dean waved a hand dismissively, nodding.
"Oh yeah. Ancient history, though. We've been thick and thieves ever since. And man, let me tell you, never a dull moment with that chick - it's been a hell of a ride. She ever tell you about the time she got arrested for indecent exposure? Got caught skinny dipping middle of the night with her last boyfriend. Or the time she snuck backstage at the Black Keys concert? Had to bail her out for that one myself. At least she'd been smart enough to ditch the coke before they got her that time."
With each outrageous lie, Ryan's eyes grew wider. Dean knew he should stop, that he'd already crossed a huge line, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
"Seriously? That doesn't sound like Trina."
Dean shrugged.
"Hey, people change. She's still great, though! Life of the party. Fucking fearless, too. I mean, do I sometimes worry she's a little too wild? Sure. But it's part of her charm, you know?"
Ryan was looking increasingly alarmed but was making an admirable attempt to hide it. He nodded slowly, unable to completely ditch the shell-shocked expression on his face, and Dean felt a twinge of guilt. A twinge he quickly pushed aside.
"Uh, right," Ryan agreed. "Wow… I had no idea she was so… adventurous."
"Yeah, yeah, that's Kat for you. I'm sure you two'll have a great time tonight. Just, uh, maybe keep an eye on how much she drinks? She can get a little handsy after a few glasses of wine, if you know what I mean. Oh, and fair warning - she's into some really kinky stuff in the bedroom. Like, we're talking whips and chains level kinky. Hope you're not the squeamish type."
He was going to hell. Again. And this time it felt earned.
Before Ryan could respond, or Dean could dig himself a bigger, deeper hole, the sound of Katrina's footsteps on the stairs had both men turning toward the hallway. She appeared a moment later, hair now styled in soft waves around her shoulders, makeup subtle but enhancing her natural beauty. She looked stunning and Dean's mind went temporarily blank.
"Sorry about that," she said breathlessly, grabbing her bag from the side table. "You boys play nice while I was gone?"
"Of course," Dean said innocently before Ryan could tip her off. "Just getting to know each other a bit."
Ryan's smile was slightly strained, but Katrina didn't seem to notice.
"Yeah, Dean was just telling me some… interesting stories."
Katrina's eyes narrowed suspiciously in Dean's direction, and he thanked god he had a good poker face. Even if his heart was racing.
"What kind of stories?" she demanded. Dean rolled his eyes.
"Would you relax and just get out of here already? I promise I left all the good stuff out."
Katrina seemed mollified, but Dean noticed that, if possible, the color drained further from Ryan's face. As they headed for the door, Dean called out, "You two crazy kids have fun tonight. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
Katrina flipped him off and tossed back a "That doesn't narrow it down much, Winchester!", but Ryan practically hustled her out the door. As it closed behind them, Dean felt the fake smile slide off his face. He slumped back onto the couch again, the reality of what he'd done came crashing down. Guilt churned in his stomach, warring with the lingering jealousy.
What the fuck had he been thinking?
Katrina was his friend - his best friend. She'd stood by him through all the crap with Lisa, let him lean on her and supported him when Sam had been without his soul, had his back in enough hunts he'd lost count, hadn't hesitated to take him and Sam in when they'd needed somewhere to go, had been taking care of him while he'd been laid up in her own prickly kind of way… And he'd just deliberately tried to sabotage her date out of petty jealousy. What kind of asshole did that make him?
But it was too late to take back now. All he could do was wait and see how the evening played out… how badly he'd fucked up. He grabbed his beer off the coffee table and took a pull, settling in for a long night of stewing in his own remorse.
The hours crawled by at an agonizing pace, during which Dean alternated between channel surfing listlessly and berating himself for his actions. Stumbling across Bewitched reruns nearly made him sick, and he quickly navigated past the channel. Sam wandered through at one point, raising an eyebrow at Dean's sullen mood, but wisely chose not to comment.
Eventually, Sam retreated to his room to research. Jenna, who had blown in around 11 from her own date, had turned in for the night. Bobby was still out following up on a lead - they weren't expecting him back until the next day - and Dean found himself alone with his thoughts. The TV got impossibly harder to focus on, and despite his efforts, he found himself replaying every word of his conversation with Ryan and hating himself more for it by the minute.
It was nearing midnight when he finally heard a car pull up outside. He sat up straighter, straining his ears. The car idled for a moment before driving away, and Dean's entire body tensed as he waited for the sound of the front door. He briefly wondered if he'd been stupid not to have made himself scarce… but if Katrina knew what he did, he doubted being tucked away in his room would stop her from laying into him.
The sound, when it came, was anything but subtle. The door slammed open with enough force to rattle the windows, and Dean winced.
Her footsteps as she made her way through the foyer were slow and heavy, and when she appeared in the doorway, Dean's heart sank. Her shoulders were slumped, makeup slightly smudged. She looked utterly dejected in a way he hadn't seen before.
"Hey," he said softly. "How'd it go?"
For a fraction of a second, he was filled with the desire to get up and pull her into his arms in some foolish attempt to comfort her. It didn't matter that he knew he was probably the reason she looked so beaten down, he couldn't stand to see her in pain. And if he'd been any more mobile, he'd have probably acted on the urge.
But then Katrina's eyes snapped to his, blazing with fury, and his own survival instincts kicked in instead. She stormed across the room without a word and smacked him hard upside the head.
"Ow! What the hell?" Dean yelped, more startled than hurt. Katrina was unmoved.
"You absolute jackass!" Katrina hissed. "What the fuck did you say to Ryan?"
Dean's stomach dropped. He'd known it was coming, but that didn't help.
"I don't know what you're-" Katrina smacked him again, this time grabbing a nearby pillow to swing at him.
"Don't you even think about playing dumb with me!" she snapped. "Ryan spent the entire night acting weird and jumpy around me. He kept giving me these strange looks, like he was waiting for me to sprout horns or something, and getting nervous every time I ordered a fucking drink. And then halfway through dinner, he started asking me about my 'wild lifestyle' and if I was still clean and whether I was really into whips and chains!"
Dean winced. "Kat, I can explain -"
"Oh, this ought to be good," she snarled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Please, enlighten me. What possible explanation could you have for sabotaging my date? What part of your pea-sized brain thought it would be a good idea?"
"I didn't - it wasn't -" Dean floundered, searching for the right words. He was coming up blank though. There was no explanation. At least not one he was willing to fess up to. He knew it. She knew it. There was no point. "It was just a joke, okay? I didn't think he'd take it seriously."
Katrina's eyes flashed, and Dean suddenly felt an uncharacteristic wave of sympathy for the monsters they hunted down.
"A joke?" she asked, her voice rising dangerously. You told him I was some kind of sex-crazed junkie as a joke?"
Put like that, it sounded even worse, and Dean cringed. "Okay, yeah, that one might have been a bit much… but in my defense, I didn't actually say -"
"In your defense?" Katrina shrieked, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
"I'm sorry, okay?" he interjected, his face burning with shame. I don't know what I was thinking."
"That's bullshit and we both know it," Katrina spat. "You knew exactly what you were doing. What I want to know is why. What, you didn't want me to have a good time? You just had to make sure I was as miserable as you?"
The accusation stung, mostly because there was a kernel of truth to it. Dean's temper flared anyway, his natural inclination towards deflecting and masking with anger kicking in.
"Oh come on, it's not like you were even that into the guy," he shot back. "You were bitching about it all week. Hell, you were asking me if you should even go right before the guy got here, Kat!"
It was the wrong thing to say. Katrina's face turned an alarming shade of red.
"Oh, fuck you, Dean! That is not the point!" she screamed. "Whether I wanted to go or not, it was my choice. Mine. Not yours. Mine. What gives you the right to interfere in my life like that? What the hell is wrong with you? I thought we were friends!"
"We are friends!" Dean protested, but Katrina didn't look convinced.
"Really? Because friends don't do this kind of thing to other friends!"
Dean flinched at her words, guilt and shame washing over him.
"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean for things to go this far. I just… I don't know what came over me."
"Oh, I think you do," Katrina growled. "You just don't want to admit it."
There was a challenge in her gaze that made Dean's heart race. She couldn't possibly be implying what he thought she was. He hadn't told a soul, alive or dead, how he felt about her. Those feelings were something he kept locked up tight, in a box he kept buried deep down, with all the other things he couldn't afford to deal with. They kept good company at least. It was the same box Lisa and Ben were in.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, averting his eyes.
Katrina scoffed. "Of course you don't. God forbid Dean Winchester actually confront his emotions for once in his life."
"Hey, that's not fair-" Dean started to protest, but Katrina cut him off.
"You know what's not fair? The fact that I just had what might have been the most mortifying date of my life because you couldn't handle the idea of me going out with someone else!" she snapped. "Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? Ryan probably thinks I'm some kind of lunatic now! God, Dean, did you even think about what he might say about me to other people? I work in this town, you jackass. I live here! His sister hangs out with mine, I shop at the same grocery store as his parents!"
Even with how bad he'd been feeling, Dean hadn't thought about any of that, and in that moment he almost wished the world would open up and swallow him whole.
"I'm sorry, Kat. Really, I am. I never meant for things to go this far. I just... I guess I got a little carried away."
"A little?" Katrina's voice dripped with sarcasm. "That's the understatement of the century."
She paced back and forth, practically vibrating with anger. Dean watched her warily, not daring to speak. Finally, Katrina whirled to face him again.
"Why, Dean?" she demanded. "Why would you do this? And don't give me that crap about it being a joke. I want the real reason."
Dean swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. This was it - the moment of truth. He could come clean, lay all his cards on the table. Tell her how he really felt.
But the words stuck in his throat. Because admitting his feelings meant risking everything. Their friendship, the easy companionship they'd built. Not that he hadn't already. But if Katrina didn't feel the same way, it would change everything between them. And Dean wasn't sure he could handle that.
And even if he could, even if she did feel the same way… he couldn't risk something happening to her. He'd lived that horror show already. He couldn't do it again.
So instead, he took the coward's way out.
"I don't know, okay?" he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I guess I just... I got jealous or something. Which is stupid, I know. You're my friend and I should want you to be happy. I don't know what came over me."
Katrina stared at him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and laced with disappointment.
"You're right. It is stupid," she said flatly. "And it's not good enough, Dean. Not by a long shot."
Without another word, she turned and stormed out of the room. Dean heard her footsteps on the stairs, followed by the slam of her bedroom door.
He slumped back against the couch cushions, burying his face in his hands and feeling like the world's biggest asshole. He'd royally fucked things up, and he had no one to blame but himself.
"Fuck," he muttered. What the hell had he done?
Sleep was a lost cause that night, and really, for the next few nights. Dean tossed and turned on the pullout bed, replaying the fight with Katrina over and over in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the hurt and betrayal on her face.
The next few days were tense, to say the least. Katrina was giving Dean the cold shoulder, ignoring him completely when she wasn't shooting him icy glares. She stopped coming to his room at night, leaving Dean to toss and turn alone.
Sam and Bobby had quickly picked up on the tension, but neither seemed particularly sympathetic to Dean's plight.
"You brought this on yourself, man," Sam said when Dean complained about Katrina's silent treatment. "What you did was a real dick move."
"I know, okay?" Dean snapped. "You don't have to rub it in."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it. You're lucky Trina didn't kick your ass out of the house entirely."
Dean grunted, unable to argue with that assessment. Bobby was equally unsympathetic when Dean tried to commiserate with him.
"You really stepped in it this time, ya idjit," he'd said, with a disappointed shake of his head. "The hell were you thinkin'? You were taught better 'n that, Dean."
Jenna was disappointed in him too, though Dean couldn't help but notice there seemed to be an undercurrent in her scolding.
"You're such an idiot," she announced one morning with a shake of her head. "I can't believe you blew it like that."
"Blew what?" Dean frowned. Jenna rolled her eyes.
"Please. I thought you might be into Trina before - I actually hoped setting her up with Ryan might light a fire under your ass and get you to finally make a move - but now it's beyond obvious. Didn't think you'd go full fucking sabotage mode, though."
Dean spluttered, caught off guard by the blunt assessment. Damn teenagers. He'd forgotten how aggravating they were.
"I'm not - we're just friends!"
"Uh huh, sure," Jenna said skeptically. "Whatever you, Dean-o. Just know that if you don't find a way to fix this, she's not gonna sit around forever. She might not be Miss. Congeniality all the time, but she's still a catch. Pull your head outta your ass and do something about it."
As she flounced away, Dean was left reeling. Was he really that transparent? And if Jenna had picked up on his feelings, did that mean Katrina knew too?
The thought made his stomach churn with anxiety. He had to fix this, and soon. But how?
Dean knew they were all right - well, maybe not Jenna, at least not totally, but they were mostly right. He'd royally screwed up, and he had no one to blame but himself. But that didn't make Katrina's cold shoulder any easier to bear.
He missed her. Missed their late-night TV marathons and easy banter. Missed the way she always seemed to know exactly what he needed, whether it was a cold beer or a distraction from his own thoughts.
More than that, he missed his friend. She was his confidante, his partner-in-crime, the person he looked forward to seeing at the end of a long day.
And he'd thrown it all away because he couldn't handle his own jealousy.
It was nearly a week after the disastrous date and resulting argument when Dean finally worked up the courage to try and make amends. He'd spent days agonizing over what to say, how to apologize. In the end, he decided he just needed to suck it up and get it over with. She'd probably hit him again, but he figured he deserved it… and if it meant she'd talk to him again, at this point, he was willing to take it.
So that night, instead of retreating to his makeshift bedroom, Dean planted himself on the living room couch once more. His leg ached, a dull throb that seemed to echo the ache in his chest, but it didn't matter. Fixing things was more important. He'd timed it carefully, knowing Katrina was due home from a late shift soon. It was the second night in the row, and it had killed him to listen to her walk past his door the night before.
His palms were sweating as he heard her Jeep pull into the driveway, and then her key jingling in the lock a few minutes later. This was it – it was now or never.
Katrina stepped into the house, kicking off her shoes with a tired sigh. When she rounded the corner into the living room and spotted Dean on the couch, she froze, her expression shuttering immediately. For a long moment, they just stared at each other.
"What are you doing up?" she finally asked warily.
Dean took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Waiting for you. Can we talk? Please? I wanted to apologize… properly."
Katrina's eyes narrowed, but she didn't immediately storm off, which Dean took as a good sign. He reached down in front of the couch and produced a box of chocolates he'd begged Sam to pick up for him earlier in the day - Katrina's favorite brand, specifically dark and milk chocolate, with all the crème fillings and none of the, as she called them, bullshit nuts.
"Peace offering?" he offered, holding out the box with what he hoped was a contrite smile.
Katrina's eyes narrowed, but after a moment she sighed heavily and moved further into the room. "You're such an asshole," she muttered, crossing the room and accepting the box of chocolates on her way. "And you're lucky I'm too tired to yell at you right now."
She dropped onto the opposite end of the couch, leaving a good three feet of space between them. Dean tried not to let that sting.
"I know," Dean said quietly, not arguing either of her points. "I'm sorry, Kat. And I know that doesn't begin to cover it, but I am. I know I screwed up. Really screwed up. What I did, making up all that crap? It was a dick move. I was a complete jackass, and you didn't deserve any of it. What I did was petty and childish and just... wrong. On every level."
Katrina was quiet for a moment while she studied him, her expression guarded, and Dean wished he could hear what she was thinking.
"Why'd you do it, Dean?" she finally asked. It was the same question she'd asked that night, but her tone was softer now. "And I want the real answer this time."
Dean swallowed hard. It was another chance to come clean, to lay it all out there. But looking into Katrina's eyes, seeing the wariness there, he found himself hesitating once again.
"I guess I just... I got scared," he admitted softly. "Things between us have been so good lately, you know? I didn't want anything to change. And then suddenly there was this guy from your past, swooping in, and I just... I panicked."
It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either. Katrina's expression softened slightly.
"Dean, you're my best friend," she said. "No guy was ever going to change that. You have to know that."
Dean nodded, guilt churning in his gut. "I know. I do know that. I was being an idiot. And selfish."
Katrina's eyes snapped to his face, searching. "That's it? You were just being selfish?"
There was something in her tone - a hint of disappointment, maybe? - that made Dean's heart race. But he couldn't bring himself to take that final leap.
"Yeah," he said, hating himself for the lie. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
Katrina held his gaze for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Okay. But Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"If you ever pull something like that again, I will kick your ass. Broken leg or not."
Despite everything, Dean felt a grin tugging at his lips. "Yes ma'am."
Katrina rolled her eyes, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She reached for the box of chocolates, tearing into the packaging.
After a moment, she held the box out to Dean in offering. He took one gratefully, recognizing the gesture for the olive branch it was.
"So," Katrina said after they'd both had a few pieces. "Where do we go from here?"
Dean sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions. "I don't know. But I don't want to lose you, Kat. You're important to me."
Katrina's expression softened. "You're important to me too, Dean. But... maybe we need to set some boundaries? I think we've both gotten a little too comfortable lately."
A lump formed in Dean's throat. There it was - the dissolution of that silent agreement they had not to talk about what'd been going on.
He knew she was right, but the thought of pulling back from the easy intimacy they'd developed made his chest ache. Still, he nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right. We're friends. Good friends. That's... that's enough."
If he didn't know better, Dean could have sworn he saw a flicker of disappointment in Katrina's eyes. But it was gone so quickly he was sure he must have imagined it.
"Right," she agreed. "Friends."
They fell into silence again, but this time it was more comfortable. After a few minutes, Katrina spoke up again.
"So," she said around a mouthful of caramel. "You gonna hog the remote or what?"
Just like that, the tension between them eased. Dean grabbed the remote, flipping through channels until he landed on a rerun of Bewitched.
As Samantha twitched her nose on screen, Dean glanced at Katrina out of the corner of his eye. She'd curled up on her end of the couch, still maintaining that careful distance between them. But she was here, and she was talking to him again. It was more than he deserved.
He'd take it.
"Hey Kat?" he said softly.
She hummed in acknowledgment, not taking her eyes off the TV.
"I really am sorry," he said again. "I never meant to hurt you or embarrass you like that. You didn't deserve it."
"Yeah, I know," she whispered. "We're good."
Dean grinned, feeling some of the weight lift from his chest. They'd be okay.
As the night wore on, Dean found himself hyper-aware of every move Katrina made. The way she'd snort at particularly cheesy lines in the show. How she'd absently twist a strand of hair around her finger while she watched. The quiet sounds of contentment she made as she savored each piece of chocolate.
More than once, he caught himself wanting to reach out. To close that gap between them and pull her close like he had so many nights before.
But things were different now. That easy intimacy they'd cultivated felt fragile, tainted by his moment of jealous stupidity. So Dean kept his hands to himself, even as everything in him screamed to do otherwise.
For her part, Katrina seemed equally hesitant to bridge the gap. She'd lean forward to grab another chocolate, careful not to brush against him. Her laughter, when it came, was quieter than usual.
It was progress, Dean told himself. They were talking again, spending time together. The rest would come with time.
As the credits rolled on their third episode, Katrina yawned and stretched. "I should probably head to bed. Another long shift tomorrow."
Dean nodded, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment. "Yeah, of course. Thanks for... you know. Giving me another chance."
Katrina's expression softened. "That's what friends do, right?"
"Right," Dean agreed, even as the word 'friends' left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Katrina stood, gathering up the mostly-empty chocolate box. She hesitated for a moment, then leaned down to press a quick kiss to Dean's cheek.
"Goodnight, Dean," she murmured.
Before he could respond, she was gone, padding up the stairs to her room. Dean touched his cheek where her lips had been, wondering why such an innocent gesture left him feeling so conflicted.
A few minutes later he hauled himself off the couch with a sigh and hobbled back to his temporary bedroom on the crutches. As he settled into bed, Dean found himself staring at the ceiling, mind racing.
He and Katrina were friends. Good friends. Best friends, even. And that was enough. It had to be enough.
Because the alternative - admitting that somewhere along the line, he'd fallen head over heels for her - was too terrifying to contemplate.
So Dean pushed those thoughts aside, buried them deep where they couldn't cause any more trouble. And if a small part of him ached at the thought of going back to the way things were before, well... that was a price he was willing to pay to keep Katrina in his life.
It had to be.