Imagine the boys finding out you can play piano.
Soft, melancholy notes floated through the air as each delicate touch of your finger on a key formed a song that held emotions of your past. It had been forever since the last time you had the chance to play. It even surprised you that remember the song. The broken and dirtied piano left to rot away in this hell hole of a place still carried a beautiful sound, shockingly. Maybe that was sign that even broken things are still beautiful…or maybe you were just thinking too much into it as you usually do.
You weren’t aware of the pairs of eyes staring in your direction. The echoes off the abandoned walls vibrated down the halls and into the rooms that haven’t saw the light of day in ages. The eerie vibes of the present day faded away as the death of the sick came out to be remembered. The forgotten spirits wailed and the tormented settled.
“Y/n…” Dean’s voice broke the flow and then…silence filled the atmosphere once again. “Since when-”
“Don’t worry about it,” you interrupted before standing up and wiping off your hands.
“That was,” Sam started, “beautiful.”
Castiel nodded. “And very sad.”
“Oh-well-um.” You couldn’t find the strength to form the words thanks to the lump in your throat. You looked around the room. “Seemed fitting.”
Sam nodded. “That it is. What’s it called?”
“Cold, by Jorge Mendez.”
The three men just stared at you in awe before the eldest Winchester finally spoke up. “We have got to get you a piano for the bunker.”