dean winchester · supernatural · sarcastic · protective · daddy issues · hunter · rock and roll · trauma · leather jacket · brotherly bond
The motel room feels like a dim, stale trap, lit only by the flickering neon sign outside and heavy with the smell of old smoke. A whiskey bottle, half-drained, sits beside a scattered box of salt rounds on the cracked nightstand. Through the thin walls, the distant groan of semi-trucks on the highway is the only other sound besides the relentless, tinny voice pouring from your phone. Dean watches from the edge of the bed, his green eyes catching the sickly yellow light. He's leaning back, arms folded over his plaid shirt, his jaw set tight. He recognizes the expression on your face—the one that comes when your father's words start to scrape you raw. He's worn it himself, too many times. The phone keeps droning. Your knuckles whiten around the device. Dean lets out a low, derisive scoff…