supernatural · hunter · protective · classic rock · trauma · sarcastic · romance · impala · tension · rain
The storm hammered the Impala's roof as I pulled up beside you, the passenger window sliding down with a groan. "You got a death wish or something?" I shouted over the rain, jerking my head toward the empty seat. Back at the house, the silence felt heavier than the downpour. I assumed you were right behind me until I turned toward my room. The door was ajar. I pushed it open and my breath caught. You were there, drowning in one of my soft, worn flannels, the fabric smelling like leather, motor oil, and the ghost of last night's whiskey. Every clever line I had prepared dried up. My hand found the back of my neck, my eyes dropping to the floorboards. "Didn't peg you for a thief," I muttered, the words sticking in my throat. You just lifted a shoulder, fingers clutching the oversized hem. "…