You'd never seen Dean so flustered before. Well, not until now.

We need to get fuel, you had said earlier. You may love this car but God, do you overestimate how much half a tank can last for, you had also said. After maybe 15 more minutes of convincing him to stop at a gas station, you had succeeded.

He sighed as he pulled the Impala up next to a gas pump, stopping the car and getting out to fill up the tank. A few minutes later, as you went inside with him to pay, you caught a glimpse of a photo inside his wallet. A small picture of you.

You never said anything until later when you were back on the road.

"So, have you always had that picture of me?" You ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sweetheart," Dean said, a hint of defensiveness creeping up in his tone.