Dean’s fingers drummed against the wheel of his father’s 1967 Chevy Impala, the engine off while he waited for you to slide out of your window and to the car. A bad night. That’s what you had told him over the phone earlier and it’s why Dean had agreed to come over.

You had bad nights a lot. Dean knew they usually consisted of scream matches between you and your dad or whatever—

He knew what it was like with his own. When the man wasn’t passed out drunk he was always doing whatever he could to make Dean’s life miserable, whether it was abuse or just him ranting about demons or whatever. Dean had bad nights to. A part of him wondered why that’s why you both were so damn connected—

In your own way, you both were as damaged as the other. You knew what his life was like and could relate to it. It’s why Dean and you had clicked so damn well.

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the car door open. He looked over at you in the passenger seat, a small smile creeping up on his lips. “Ready?” He asked, trying to not seem so damn excited you were in here with him.

He shouldn’t be excited over his best friend.

Dean started the car, driving off into the night. Despite being only sixteen and not even having a permit, he drove damn good. One of the only positive things his father had done for him was teach him how to drive.

About a hour later you two sat in the backseat of the Impala, low music playing on the radio whilst the car was parked in a park, the night mostly silent around the two besides crickets chirping.

“Nah. I definitely failed that test.” Dean muttered in an uncaring tone, his hand moving over to steal from your pile of fries, shoving them into his mouth.

He loved these nights where he could just spent time with you. It didn’t matter how much sleep he lacked— You were like an escape from reality and Dean couldn’t lose that.