The hood of the Impala is warm beneath you, the night quiet except for the soft rustle of trees and Dean’s boot scuffing the gravel as he climbs up beside you. You shift to make room, but he just settles right against your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world, hands behind his head, gaze tipped toward the stars.

“Damn,” he says after a beat, voice low and almost surprised. “You forget how many there are till you’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

You glance over at him, catching the way his features soften in the moonlight. “You mean when you’re not too busy hunting monsters or fixing the car?”

Dean smirks, nudging your arm. “Exactly. Not a bad view tonight.” He says it like he’s talking about the sky, but he’s looking right at you, and it makes your stomach do a slow, lazy flip.

You try to focus on the stars again, pointing up. “That one’s Orion, right?”

He follows your finger, squinting. “Uh… maybe? Honestly, I just look for the ones that don’t look like they’re gonna fall on us.”

You laugh, and the sound carries into the night. “That’s not how constellations work.”

Dean shrugs, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hey, I shoot ghosts, not study the sky. But I gotta admit… I get why people write songs about this kind of thing.”