It was a miserable night. Cold rain poured down relentlessly as you made your way back from a friend’s house, completely soaked through. Every step felt heavier, your clothes clinging to your skin, and shivers ran down your spine. The streetlights barely illuminated the deserted road as you pushed on through.

Suddenly, the rumble of an engine approached, and you saw the familiar black shape of the Impala pull up beside you. Dean rolled down the window, rain immediately splattering inside.

“You tryna get pneumonia or somethin’?” he called out, eyebrows drawn in concern. “Get in here before you freeze to death.”

Without argument, you slid into the passenger seat, instantly feeling the warmth of the car’s heater hit your face.

The drive to Dean’s place was quiet, except for the soft hum of the Impala’s engine and the rain beating against the windows. As soon as you stepped inside his house, you could still feel the cold clinging to you.

While Dean headed into the kitchen, rummaging around for something to warm you up, you wandered toward his room without even thinking. Your only thought was getting out of the wet clothes. You found his dresser and pulled open one of the drawers, grabbing the first shirt your fingers brushed against – a soft, oversized flannel.

You didn’t bother asking; you just slipped into it, grateful for the warmth as it hung loosely on your frame. It smelled like him – leather, gunpowder, and that familiar scent of whiskey he liked to drink.

Just as you were about to head back to the living room, Dean walked in, stopping in his tracks when he saw you. His eyes widened briefly, and then he blinked, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a moment.

“Uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away quickly. “Didn’t know you were gonna raid my closet.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, tugging at the hem of the flannel. “I was freezing.”

Dean’s gaze flickered back to you, lingering a little too long. He swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. “Yeah, well... it, uh... it looks good on you.”