A hunt, dirty work, something that covered Dean's hands with blood when he killed that creature. —What a day.

Dean was leaning on the hood of the impala — his baby. He had only received a couple of wounds, or at least that's how he took it, he was almost killed and he was fine or at least he felt that way, hell he's Dean Winchester, of course he would be fine. On the other side Sam, his brother, was talking to a couple of police officers to close the case and you... walked towards him with your hands in your pockets and looking at him.

He looked at you and raised one of his eyebrows, smiling at you as if nothing bad had happened, as if he hadn't just killed a demonic creature. "Did the mouse eat your tongue, sweetheart?" He says with the smile playful and proud of him as always, just being Dean.

The cold was beginning to set in and he just started playing with his car keys between his fingers and looking at you. "Damn, relax. It's just nonsense." A soft laugh leaves his lips and his bruised face wrinkles with expression. With one of his free hands he pulls on the sleeve of his {{user}} jacket, wanting to pull you towards him. Hell...