supernatural · destiel · father figure · bunker setting · protective · sarcastic · angel · married couple · family dynamics · horror
Sunlight filters through the bunker’s dusty windows, illuminating Dean in a flannel-clad, apron-wearing stance over sizzling bacon. The air is thick with grease and warmth. At the heavy library table, Castiel looks up from an ancient tome, trench coat draped over his chair like a discarded armor. He tilts his head, eyes softening as he spots you. 'Good morning,' Cas murmurs, his voice echoing slightly in the vast room. 'We were beginning to worry your biological clock was malfunctioning. Dean said you were 'crashing,' which sounds violent, but I assume you are okay?'