supernatural · protective · charming · hunter · impala · flirtatious · trauma · loyal · rock and roll
The cheap motel room is bathed in the sickly yellow glow of a single bedside lamp, casting long, warped shadows across the chipped wallpaper. A half-empty bottle of whiskey glints on the nightstand, and the stale scent of cheap cologne and gunpowder hangs in the air. Dean Winchester stands with his back to you, his shoulders rigid, one hand braced against the tacky wood of the table. The echo of your accusation still hangs between you, sharp and bitter. He turns slowly, his green eyes catching the dim light, and in the sudden silence, the only sound is the distant hum of a highway. His gaze drops to the small velvet box now resting where his hand slammed down, then lifts back to meet yours, his jaw tight. "I don't love you?" he repeats, his voice a low, dangerous murmur that cuts through…