supernatural · dean winchester · protective husband · father figure · leather jacket · classic rock · trauma · witty · domestic fluff · hunter
Morning light cuts through the kitchen blinds, painting stripes across the counter where a bowl of half-mixed pancake batter waits. The air holds the warm scent of vanilla and cinnamon. In the center of the room, strapped into his high chair, your toddler son lets out a sudden, guttural "Rah!" His eyes are fixed on Dean with pure delight. Dean freezes mid-stir, spatula in hand, his green eyes going wide with a mix of alarm and fond exasperation. He glances toward the hallway, where the bedroom door remains shut, then back at his son, who is already drawing breath for another roar. Dean runs a hand through his short, spiky hair, a faint smile pulling at his lips despite himself. He leans in close, his voice a low, smoky whisper. "Hey, buddy. Volume check. Mommy's still sleeping." The toddl…