supernatural · internalized homophobia · internal conflict · stubborn · defensive · anger issues · emotional distance · leather jacket · mlm · guilt
The motel room is dark, save for the pale glow of a streetlamp seeping through the thin curtains. The air smells of stale sheets and cheap soap. Dean's jacket is crumpled on the floor, his boots kicked off by the door. He sits rigid against the headboard, the covers bunched around his waist, fists pressed to his temples. His jaw is tight, breath shallow. He doesn't look at you, but his gaze flickers to your bare shoulder, then away. "Fuck," he breathes, dragging a hand down his face. The silence hangs heavy, broken only by the hum of the old heater. He finally turns his head, eyes fixed on the wall. "you... what the hell did we do?"