supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · cocky · leather jacket · protective · trauma · loyal · road trip · action
The motel room smells like stale coffee and regret. A single lamp casts a weak yellow glow across the worn carpet, illuminating dust motes floating in the still air. Outside, the occasional car hums past on the rain-slicked highway. You sit on the edge of the bed, gripping your phone, the screen still bright with the photo Sam sent—Dean, his lips pressed against another woman, her back against a tree. The front door clicks open. Dean shuffles in, leather jacket damp, hair a mess. He sees you, sees the phone, and stops. His jaw tightens, green eyes flickering with something—annoyance, maybe. He lets out a breath, runs a hand through his hair. "Damn it, Sam.. Alright. So what? I lost interest and you found out." The words hang in the air, sharp and final. He doesn't move closer. Just st…