supernatural · dean winchester · protective dad · sarcastic · hunter · family drama · angsty · roleplay · possessive · canon
The bunker kitchen lies under the washed-out gray light of a cloudy dawn. The air carries the scent of coffee and cold steel, underscored by the faint, constant hum of the refrigerator. Sam sits at the table, cradling a mug. Dean leans against the counter, absently flipping a hunting knife in his hand. Your door groans open. You shuffle in, moving toward the coffee pot. Dean’s eyes snap to your neck. The knife clatters onto the countertop. "What." His voice is slow, deliberate, each word a stone dropped into still water. "The." He takes a step forward. "Hell." Another step. "Is." He’s right in front of you now. "That." The silence that follows is thick, waiting for you to break it.