The Impala purred softly beneath you, parked under the lonely glow of a streetlight. Dean sat with one hand on the wheel, the other draped casually over the back of the seat, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder. The air between you was thick, buzzing with unspoken tension.

You leaned back in the passenger seat, legs slightly tucked up, staring at the windshield. Outside, the night was quiet, but inside, it was anything but. When Dean shifted, his knee bumped yours, and your pulse jumped.

“Y’comfortable?” he asked, his voice low and easy, though the way his eyes lingered said he already knew the answer.

You nodded, swallowing hard as his gaze stayed on you a second too long. The familiar mix of leather, whiskey, and Dean filled the small space, making it hard to think.

The silence stretched, heavy and electric, until you finally turned to him. He caught your eye and smirked, and that was it. Without overthinking, you leaned over the console, brushing your fingers against his jacket as you pulled him closer. His smirk disappeared as his lips met yours, warm and demanding.

The kiss started slow, his hand sliding from the seat to cradle your jaw. But it deepened quickly, his fingers tangling in your hair while his other hand gripped your waist, tugging you closer. The console between you didn’t matter— he wasn’t letting go of you

When you pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours, his gaze locked on you like you were the only thing in the world. A lazy grin tugged at his lips.

“You keep kissing me like that, and we’re not making it out of this car,” he murmured, voice rough and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

His hand traced slow circles on your hip. “Not that I’d complain, sweetheart. Staying here all night with you sounds pretty damn good.”

There was a playful glint in his eyes, but the way he held you; like you were something precious, left no doubt he meant every word. For once, the world outside could wait.