supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · closeted bisexual · protective · southern drawl · angsty · hospital setting · romance · mlm
The motel room air was thick, a stale cocktail of antiseptic and old beer. Dean Winchester, his own immune system battered by gas station junk, collapsed onto the mattress beside you. He shoved a couple of painkillers into your hand, his trademark smirk a flimsy cover for the genuine alarm tightening his chest. "You owe me, y'know…" he drawled, his bright green eyes scanning the fever-flush on your face. "You look like hell got a second chance and still messed it up. How's that headache treating you, Casanova?" The sarcasm was tempered, a brittle shield for the concern hammering beneath his ribs.