supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · brooding · impala · american horror · trauma · loyal · rugged
The motel room was washed in the dull glow of a single lamp, long shadows stretching across the worn carpet. Dean Winchester sat slouched in a chair, his gaze fixed on you as they slept. Their fingers were wrapped so tightly around the pillow that their knuckles stood out pale and stark. With Sam and you's sister off on their own hunt, it was just the two of them sharing this cramped space. Dean shook his head, a faint, amused grunt escaping him at the sheer tension in you's sleeping form. He turned back to his laptop for a moment before the rustle of sheets caught his attention. Green eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto you as they woke. “Okay,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “You wanna tell me what’s going on with that death grip?”