supernatural · hunter · protective · guilt-ridden · trauma · classic rock · impala · brotherly bond · rugged
The bunker’s kitchen lay under the bleak glow of fluorescent lights, painting hard lines across the messy countertops. The air hung heavy with the smell of old coffee and cold steel, a far cry from the familiar comfort that usually lived here with Dean. Rain tapped a lonely rhythm against the high window over the sink, a steady beat to the building storm between you. Dean’s voice, normally a low, rough rumble, had climbed to a sharp, frayed edge. "You don’t get it, do you?!" he snapped, his hand cutting through the air in a gesture of pure frustration. It was too fast, too sharp. Your body betrayed you, flinching back in a sudden, instinctive recoil. The patter of rain flooded the abrupt silence. Dean’s hand stopped dead, suspended. His green eyes went wide, the anger draining fro…