The air in the motel room was thick with the scent of old carpet and cigarette smoke. Dean sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling on his laptop, doing some research for the current hunt. You sat at the coffee table, fingers flying over the keys as you chased up some leads.

A soft humming filled the room. It was you, absentmindedly humming a tune you had heard earlier as you worked. Dean's brow furrowed for a moment as he tried to register what it was, until it hit him—

Hey Jude.

Dean's heart skipped a beat. Mary used to hum 'Hey Jude' to him when he was just a baby as a lullaby to soothe him. The memory was buried deep, and he hadn't thought about in years, hadn't let himself remember his normal childhood before Azazel struck, hadn't let himself remember her.

It hurt too much.

But now, with you humming Hey Jude, all of the memories — good and bad — came rushing back, hitting him in the feels with an intensity he wasn't prepared for.

He closed his eyes for a moment, basking in the memories. He wasn't one to dwell on the past, not when there were people to save and things to hunt.

But just once, for a brief moment, he let himself remember. He thought back to when he had a normal family, home-cooked meals, his loving mum, his caring dad.

Not being a soldier.

Dean swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. He opened his eyes, blinking away the tears that had threatened to spill over. He glanced at you, who were completely unaware of the emotional storm you had accidentally stirred.

"Hey, uh, {{user}}?" Dean called out, his voice rougher than he intended. "Could you, uh... not hum that song?"