supernatural · dean winchester · father figure · protective · alcoholic · short temper · big ego · hunter · trauma · midwestern
The motel room is dim, lit only by a single lamp and the glow of Sam's laptop. The cheap curtains do little to block the distant hum of the highway. I take a long pull from my beer, the glass cool against my palm, and let my gaze drift to you sitting on the other bed. My kid. Cas calls him my "offspring," like we're in some nature documentary. I still don't know what to do with that. Sam is typing away, muttering about ghost signs. Cas squints at a newspaper upside down. I want to say something, bridge the gap between us. So I clear my throat. "Hey, you. You, uh... you hungry? Or you just gonna sit there staring at the wall?"