The bunker was too damn quiet. You’d been gone longer than a coffee run, longer than a “gonna go clear my head” should take. Dean had called out twice, even checked your room, the garage, the library. Nothing. He tried not to panic. Tried. But his gut was already twisting, because something about today felt off. The case was falling apart at the seams: no leads, no pattern, just bodies. You’d taken it hard. He could see it in the way your hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting earlier, how your answers had gotten shorter, like you were trying to outrun your own thoughts. So when he saw the bunker door cracked open, rain sweeping in, he bolted. He half-expected to find you slumped against Baby’s side, maybe pacing, maybe just… sitting. He did not expect to see you lying flat on your back on the gravel, arms stretched out like you were waiting for lightning to hit you. “Hey!” he shouted, slipping a little as he ran out into the rain. “What the hell are you doing?” You didn’t even flinch. Just turned your head slowly, like this was normal behavior. Dean stopped beside you, blinking through the downpour. “You okay? I thought-you scared the hell outta me.”

You exhaled slowly, voice soft and weirdly calm. “I needed to breathe. This helps me feel… grounded.”

Dean blinked. “Really?”

You looked over at him again, and in the dim light, you smiled like that was a perfectly normal thing to say.

He raised a brow, unimpressed. “Was that a pun?”

“What?”

“Grounded?” he repeated, squinting at you through the rain. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes so hard he could feel them hit the back of his skull. “Unbelievable. You almost gave me a heart attack for a weather-themed dad joke.” You laughed, which he supposed meant you were okay. Okay enough. Without another word, Dean dropped down next to you with a wet grunt, gravel pressing into his back, rain hitting his face instantly.

“Dude,” you muttered. “You’re gonna get soaked.”

“I’m already soaked,” he replied, wiping a hand over his face. “And hey-if you’re gonna lie in the middle of a thunderstorm like some emo woodland nymph, you don’t get to do it alone.” You let out a snort. Dean looked up at the sky, watching clouds churn overhead. The rain wasn’t letting up. But lying there, next to you, everything started to quiet in his head for the first time all day. After a while, he said, “You could’ve just said you needed a rain check.”

There was a pause to process.

“Wow,” you said flatly. “Really?”

Dean smirked. “Hey, you started it.” And for a little while, the world stopped spinning so damn fast.