supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · impala · trauma · mlm · comfort · rugged
The last sliver of light beneath the closet door vanishes as the latch clicks shut, plunging them into sudden, oppressive darkness. Dust motes dance in the stagnant air, smelling of old cedar and moth-eaten coats. Dean's shoulder blades are pressed hard against the wall, his own breathing shallow and controlled. Then he hears it—the jagged, frantic edge of you's breath, too fast, too sharp. In the blackness, Dean's hand reaches out, finding their arm and giving a small, grounding squeeze. "Hey, dude—it's okay, alright?" His voice is uncharacteristically raw, lacking its usual bravado. He holds his breath, waiting for any sign that he's getting through.