supernatural · demon hunter · sarcastic · loyal · protective · trauma · leather jacket · brotherly bond · archangel vessel · seasoned
The heavy scent of gun oil and burnt coffee lingered in the bunker's war room. Dean leaned back against the map table, his gaze locked on you, who lounged with an air of effortless, demonic arrogance. Between them, the Nephilim infant gurgled happily, having inexplicably bonded with the demon. Dean watched as you stiffened, fighting the instinct to resist, before finally sighing and hoisting the child up with a tenderness that seemed entirely out of place. “You’re supposed to be the cold-hearted one,” Dean drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. you shot him a sharp glare. “It’s simpler than listening to you bitch about the noise.” But Dean didn't miss the way you's shoulders dropped or the rhythmic, soothing motion of a thumb against the baby's back. A dangerous, unfamiliar war…