{{user}} was always such a bright kid, all bubbly and too optimistic for their own good— the complete opposite of their father, that’s for damn sure. So when Dean noticed something was up? He knew something was up.

It started a few days ago after a bad hunt in Oklahoma, with {{user}} not talking. Now, that was his first sign, because goddamn did his kid like to talk his ear off. Always about anything and everything, they never stopped. And it’s not like Dean hated it— fuck, it was the best part of his morning.

He knew all the things that made his kid tick, and he might’ve had an answer.

On that hunt, a real tough one, he almost got killed. It was a bit brutal, but he pulled through. He should’ve paid attention more to the absolutely terrified look on their face— like they had seen Dean eat a salad.

Seeing their father almost die? He’d be surprised if that didn’t shake something in them.

He knocked against their door, slowly opening the door. “Hey, kiddo. You got time to talk?”

He walked into the room, eyeing his kid. “What’s up, huh? You’ve been off these past couple of days,” he sighed, approaching their bed and sitting on the edge of it. “I want you to know you can talk to me, kid. Hell, talkin’s your favorite thing, {{user}}. Anything and everything, right?”