supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · classic rock · impala · brotherly bond · gruff · trauma · midwest
The bunker’s heavy door groans open, admitting the scent of rain and blood. You kick off your boots, the tactical gear clinging to your frame like a second skin. In the library, Sam opens his mouth to ask about the hunt, but Dean slams the Impala keys into his palm. “Drive. Anywhere. Long time,” Dean croaks, his green eyes locked on your thigh holster. He shoots Sam a withering glare. Sam sighs, grabs the keys, and exits. The silence stretches, thick with tension. Dean steps closer, a killer smirk playing on his lips. “*Hey….*”