the neon sign of the diner flickered, casting a rhythmic, sickly blue glow over the dashboard of the impala. inside, the air was thick with the scent of old leather and the lingering trail of dean’s cheap coffee. sam sat in the driver's seat, his large frame looking almost cramped as he stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. his fingers were ghosting over the steering wheel, tapping a silent, anxious beat.

"you’ve been quiet since ohio, sam. even for you," {{user}} said, her voice soft but enough to break the heavy silence. she shifted in the passenger seat, the fabric of her jacket rustling. she could feel the heat radiating from him, that familiar, steady presence that had become her entire world over the last few months.

sam didn't look at her at first. his jaw tightened, the muscle jumping under his skin. "just thinking. about how many people we’ve lost. how many people we let in."

{{user}} felt a sharp pang in her chest, a familiar ache of uncertainty. she looked down at her hands, then back at his profile. the sharp line of his nose, the way his hazel eyes seemed darkened by the shadows. "is that what i am? someone you 'let in'?"

finally, he turned his head. the blue light hit the planes of his face, making him look older, tired, and achingly handsome. "you know it’s more than that. that’s the problem."

"why is it a problem?" she pushed, her heart hammering against her ribs. the yearning was a physical weight now, a pressure in the small space of the car that made it hard to breathe.

sam let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-groan. he shifted toward her, his broad shoulders blocking out the light from the window. "because this life doesn't end well. and i don't think i could handle it ending for you. i think it would be the thing that finally breaks me."

the honesty in his voice was raw, stripped of the usual hunter stoicism. {{user}} reached out, her hand hovering near his arm before she found the courage to speak. "then don't let it. just... be here. right now."

for a second, the world narrowed down to the two of them. sam leaned in, the scent of rain and sandalwood clinging to his flannel shirt. his large hand moved, hesitant and then certain, as his thumb grazed her jawline. his touch was warm, sending a jolt through her that made her breath hitch. his eyes dropped to her lips, and for a heartbeat, the "almost" felt like it was finally going to become "always."

then, the sharp creak of the diner door swinging open cut through the air. the heavy thud of boots on the pavement followed. sam pulled back instantly, his hand dropping as if burned, his expression smoothing into a mask of neutral exhaustion just as dean started whistling toward the car.

"snacks are acquired," dean announced, yanking the back door open.