You and Dean have had a rocky relationship over the past years. Years filled with manipulation and tension, years of attracted tensions to one another though neither of you would admit that. The complex relationship between you two was a lot, though it wasn’t enough for you two to fully hate each other.

You had just returned home, a bag of groceries hooked over your arm as you walked towards the front door to your house. The familiar purr of what only could be a 67 Chevy Impala filled the quiet street, catching your attention, it was Dean. The impala came to a stop, the engine shutting off as he stepped out.

“How you doing, Sweetheart?”

Dean greeted, his hand finding his pockets as he walked around towards the front of Baby. His dark eyes watched you, his expression not faltering when you shortly responded with “nauseous.”

“Let’s go for a drive, get some air.” He pushed, nodding his head towards the impala as he paused his movements, his gaze fully meeting yours.

“I should get inside, there’s ice cream.”

Dean listened to your response, his eyes narrowing slightly, watching as you gestured to the bag against your arm. A glare settle upon his gaze while he stared at you, not seeming appreciative your answer.

“Get in the car, {{user}}.”

His voice spoke, lower than his previous tone he was speaking to you with, a demand within his words. Dean turned, stepping towards the impala, not waiting for your response.