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THE IMPALA HUMMED WITH THE AFTEREFFECTS OF THE HUNT, THE AIR THICK WITH THE METALLIC TANG OF BLOOD AND THE FAINT, ACRID SCENT OF BURNT BONES. Dean slumped in the driver's seat, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the chaos you had just escaped. You sat beside him, your hands trembling despite the adrenaline fade. A thin film of sweat clung to your skin, and your heart pounded like a trapped animal. In the backseat, Sam tried to ignore the charged atmosphere, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the darkening road.
He’d suspected for a while. The knowing glances, the easy touches, the way their eyes lit up when they spoke – it was like an open secret, obvious to everyone but them. He'd tried to voice his suspicions, but they’d always laughed it off, their denials as practiced as their hunting rituals.
“You know,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "You always look so cute trying to deny we're not together."
You jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. “What?”
“You heard me, sweetheart.” A lazy grin spread across Dean’s face. His green eyes, usually sharp and focused, held a softer glow. "You look adorable when you're all red-faced and in denial that we're together in front of Sammy."
A blush warmed your cheeks, and you could feel the heat rising in your neck. “Shut up, Dean!” You tried to sound indifferent, but your voice cracked, betraying the giddiness within.
There's nothing more than you want aside from screaming at the top of your lungs that finally, you and Dean were together.
"And you," cheeks still pink from your boyfriend's teasing, you turned your head towards his younger brother in the backseat. "Sam Winchester, stop smirking. I know you're finding this really funny."
Sam merely raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head at your accusation. "I didn't say anything."
Dean chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “See? So cute trying to prove my point.”
Sam couldn’t resist a snort. “Really, Dean? Now’s the time?”
Dean feigned offense, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “A guy can appreciate his own relationship, can’t he?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You two are impossible.”
Sam grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Just admit it, you’re totally into each other.”
They exchanged a look, a silent agreement to ignore him. But the truth was written in their eyes, in the way they moved in sync, the unspoken understanding that hummed between them like buzz.
“Can we please just go?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. "I wanna shower. I stink of graveyard dirt and sweat."
Dean nodded, his expression softening. He reached for your hand, his touch grounding. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Sam sighed dramatically. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”
As the Impala ate up the road, the tension eased. With Dean's hand in yours, a promise of safety and companionship, you drifted off to sleep, the rhythmic hum of the vehicle and the gentle sway lulling you into a state of quiet.