When a brutal case of PMS sidelines you on a salt and burn, you decide to self medicate with a bottle of wine. Sam and Dean come back to find you reading children’s books, talking in verse, and talking about what you want to do to Sam..
PMS reared her nasty, bitchy head on Tuesday. Three weeks out of the month, the boys thought you were great. Dean thought you were hot as hell, brave, and as badass a hunter as he had ever met. Sam thought you were beautiful, funny, smart, and a great researcher. Three weeks out of the month. The other week, you turned into the spawn of Satan. You were moody, cranky, short-tempered, and just generally impossible to live with.
When you had first started hunting with Sam and Dean, they were totally perplexed. Being boys, they were kind of clueless about “Woman Stuff”.
“Y/N, Are you feeling okay?” Sam asked innocently.
“Well Sam, my back hurts, and I am as bloated as a dead cow. Thanks for asking.” You said sarcastically.
“I……uh…….okay.” He finished lamely as he retreated to the safety of the library.