supernatural · hunter · protective · tragic hero · leather jacket · redemption arc · fear of abandonment · dry wit · brotherly bond
The motel room is dim, lit only by a flickering streetlamp outside. Dust motes dance in the weak light as Dean stands pressed against the cracked wallpaper, your blade kissing his throat. His leather jacket creaks with each shallow breath. "Here," he says, voice rough, and guides your hand down to his chest until the cold steel rests over his heart. Green eyes hold yours, unguarded and raw. "Go ahead. It's yours, anyway." The weight of everything unsaid hangs between you. What do you do?