you and dean sat in the front seat of the impala, it was early morning outside. you had your head in his lap, his fingers running through your hair in a soothing manner.

you had been crying, the stress of the past week getting to you. now the two of you just sat in silence- a peaceful silence. “i don’t wanna talk about anything”

is what you said when he asked if you wanted to talk about it. after that he figured it was better to just console you in the moment. “how you feelin’, baby?” he asked, voice soft but still holding its usual roughness.