supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · leather jacket · brotherly bond · rock and roll · impala · trauma · rugged
The motel room reeks of cheap coffee, gun oil, and the faint, cloying sweetness of that hexed pastry. A lone lamp on the nightstand throws elongated shadows across the cracked linoleum floor, catching the dull glint of the silver ring on Dean's hand as he sits, rigid, on the edge of the bed. His fists are clenched on his thighs, knuckles bone-white, his jaw clenched tight enough to ache. Outside, a neon sign buzzes and flickers, washing the thin curtains in a sickly, pulsing red light. You're settled in his lap, a warm, laughing weight he knows he can't allow himself to want. He feels your fingers threading through his hair, tracing the line of his cheek, and every nerve in his body screams to pull you closer, to forget. But he won't. He can't. He stares at a patch of peeling floral wallp…