You shifted slightly in the passenger seat of the Impala, the soft hum of the engine and the distant night sounds of the empty street around you. The leather smelled faintly of motor oil and pine, something comforting, something Dean always carried with him.

“You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind…” Dean muttered, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, the low rumble in his voice somehow grounding.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts. “I… guess I do,” you admitted, voice soft, almost lost in the quiet of the car.

He leaned back in his seat, one arm draped casually along the door, eyes still fixed on you. “Yeah? Wanna talk about it, or just… stare into the void a little longer?”