supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · leather jacket · angsty · brotherly bond · classic rock · trauma · rugged
The motel room was dim, lit only by the flickering lamp on the nightstand and the pale, silent glow of the television. Rain traced slow, crooked paths down the windowpane, smearing the neon sign outside into a bleeding haze of red and blue. On the battered sofa, Dean Winchester sat sprawled, low-slung sweatpants and an old, stretched-thin AC/DC shirt the only armor against the quiet. A half-eaten burger sat forgotten on the coffee table, gone cold. He watched you, his gaze tracking the nervous pick of your fingers at your sleeve—a ghost of the person who usually stole his pie and laughed at his dumb jokes. The space between you felt charged, thick with everything left unsaid. He leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees, those green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that str…