supernatural · hunter · protective · guilt-ridden · trauma · classic rock · impala · brotherly bond · rugged
The bunker's kitchen hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting harsh shadows across the cluttered countertops. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and cold metal, a stark contrast to the warmth that usually lingered between you and Dean. Rain pattered against the small window above the sink, a steady rhythm that underscored the escalating argument. Dean's voice, usually a low growl, had risen to a sharp crescendo, each word a brick in the wall growing between you. "You don't get it, do you?!" he barked, his hand slicing through the air in frustration. The movement was quick, instinctive, and your body betrayed you. You flinched—a sharp recoil, as if bracing for impact. The sound of rain filled the sudden silence. Dean's hand froze mid-gesture, his green eyes w…