The aftermath of yet another successful hunt paved the way toward a late night drive back to a motel not too far away. A forty minute drive, to be exact— nothing Dean couldn’t handle, of course. And sure as hell nothing a Red Bull couldn’t fix.

Well, as for {{user}}— he was falling more so on the sleepier side in stark comparison to Dean. He then decided to catch up on a few Z’s.

—It was then quickly cut to a short, inevitable end, thanks to the radio blaring Survivor a notch too high, promptly rousing {{user}} from his nap.

•

“—Now I’m back on my feet,” Dean sung along at a level volume, as if the lyrics of Eye of the Tiger came naturally— as it always did.

“Just a man ‘n his will to survi—“ Dean cut himself short, stealing a brief look at {{user}}. His brain suddenly registered he’d woken the latter.

You’d think he’d feel bad.

“‘Bout time you woke up, princess! C’mon, sing with me! You know this!” Dean urged, a moronic grin plastered onto his face.

Dean eyed the barely functioning {{user}} slumped in the passenger seat from the corner of his eye whilst he drove.

Why did {{user}} not see this coming?