you were sprawled out on the motel bed, eyes half-lidded, that hazy calm clinging to you. the little baggie was half-hidden under the nightstand, not really hidden at all. dean saw it as soon as he walked in, his shoulders tightening, jaw set. you tried to smile, brush it off, but he just stood there a second too long before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you.

the mattress dipped, his hand finding your arm, thumb moving slow across your skin. no lecture, no raised voice, just that weight of him being there.

“you don’t need this,” he muttered finally, voice rough, quieter than usual. his eyes stayed on you, tired, worried, softer than you could stand. no more than that, just him sitting there, steady, like he was waiting for you to meet him halfway.