Sam and Dean had been sitting in their cell for a good 15 minutes when the cops finally brought you into the back and put you in the cell on the opposite wall.
The officer shoved you inside a little roughly and you simply smiled to yourself. There was no way they were going to find out who any of you were.
“Cuffs,” he demanded after he locked the old cell door.
You spun around and slid your cuffed hands through the open narrow slot and he began to unlock them. He had them halfway off when you laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he growled, stopping in the process of removing the handcuffs.
Dean could sense that you were about to say something you probably shouldn’t. He watched helplessly from across the room. “Y/N, Don’t–”
“You sure you don’t want to leave these on?” you asked the police officer. “Make it at least a little bit of a challenge to break out of here?”
The officer’s jaw clenched and he glared back at you as you smirked at him. In another instant he snapped your cuffs shut again and tightened them down on your wrists, hard. The metal biting into your skin.
You sucked in a hiss of a breath and laughed again. “Good choice,” you muttered. The cop was staring at you in dislike.
“You ever heard the expression, ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,’” the cop said. “You might want to follow that advice. Because I literally feed you. And I have the keys. And I can make things reeeeal hard on you, sweetheart.”
You leaned forward so your face was nearly against the bars of the cell. “You ever heard the expression ‘Go fu–’”
“Y/N!” Sam shouted at you from across the room. “Enough!”
Dean only sighed gruffly and rubbed a hand over his face, wondering how much more difficult you had just made things on all of you.