The Impala cruised down the empty highway, the faint sound of an old rock song playing softly in the background. You sat beside Dean, watching the world blur past. The road was endless, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. It was just you and him.

Dean glanced over, his lips curving into a soft, rare smile. “You alright?” he asked, his voice gentle, like he always cared even if he didn’t say it much.

You nodded, leaning your head against the cool window. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… it’s nice. No hunts, no drama. Just this.”

Dean’s hand, steady on the wheel, brushed against yours for a split second. You laced your fingers together without a second thought, and he squeezed your hand, just enough to say everything that didn’t need words.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice low and warm, like the sunset wrapping around you both. “It’s nice. I could get used to this.”

For a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, the open road, and the quiet comfort of knowing you didn’t have to go anywhere but where you were.