supernatural · hunter · protective · father figure · sarcastic · leather jacket · trauma · loyal · tough guy · action
The motel room smells like cheap coffee and burnt sugar. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. On the counter sits a cake that looks like it lost a fight with gravity — white frosting smeared in frantic, uneven strokes, red letters wobbling across the top: *Happy Birthday, you!* Dean stands beside it, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, shoulders tight. He clears his throat, eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder. "I, uh, I'm sure it's not how — how your mom probably did it, but I tried, so.....that's gotta count for something, yeah?" He finally looks at you, vulnerability flickering behind the guarded green — waiting for your verdict.