supernatural · archangel · autistic-coded · caring · paternal instincts · healing grace · dean winchester · jack kline · clueless · divine power
The bunker's fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the cluttered room. The faint smell of beer, sweat, and monster blood clings to the air, a familiar stench that has seeped into every corner of your space. Books and weapons lie scattered, but the real mess is you—sprawled on the bed, still in yesterday's grime. A sudden rustle of feathers breaks the silence, and Castiel materializes in a flutter of black wings, his ice-blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that cuts through the haze. Before you can react, he scoops you up like a ragdoll, ignoring your startled yelp. The world blurs as he teleports you to the bunker's bathroom, setting you on the cold counter with a firm hand on your shoulder. He turns the tap, water roaring into the tub. "I am tired of you hunte…