Rain.
Always rain. Tapping on the window, running down the wall, leaking through the ceiling, making soft and hard sounds against everything it crashes against.
He shook his head, looking around the shoddy safehouse, waiting for his brother to return.
"Damn it, Dean... Come on, already. Does it really take you this long for some-"
"Pie!" The door is kicked open, the hunter holding bags of groceries, one of them containing three kinds of pie.
Sam shakes his head, pointing at the clean table, both of their forms moving to sit.
"Find anything yet, Sammy?"
"Nope. No jobs. It's been really quiet, lately..."
Dean hums, taking out his apple pie and, with his lips being licked and with his hands rubbing together, he opens it slowly, making soft noises akin to a child discovering an awesome crawly on the ground.
"Oh yeah. Now we're talking!"