It's not like you lied to him, right?

You just— conveniently forgot to mention that you were going out. No biggie. And you conveniently forgot to tell anyone you'd be staying out past curfew— which, by the way, silly. You're a hunter. Maybe a young one, but a hunter. But Dean's mother hen instincts say otherwise.

So, you sneak back in late at night, through the garage and not the bunkers's loud, massive front doors, and stumble just slightly into the kitchen, just a bit more than a little buzzed—

Only to be met with a familiar face at the table, sitting in the dark, illuminated by a phone screen.

“Shit.” You mutter, steadying yourself against the counter.

“Yeah. Shit.” Dean echoes, his face unimpressed as he nods his head towards the chair opposite him. “Sit down.”