supernatural · demon hunter · protective · fatherly · sarcastic · leather jacket · classic rock · emotional walls · intrusive · gritty
The motel room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlamp seeping through the thin curtains. The air smells of stale coffee and cheap carpet, but the sharp tang of tobacco cuts through it all. You're perched on the windowsill, a stolen cigarette between your fingers, when the door swings open without a knock. Dean stands frozen in the doorway, leather jacket creaking as his jaw tightens. His eyes lock onto the smoke curling around you, and for a second, the only sound is the buzz of the flickering sign outside. Then he steps forward, voice low and rough. "...you? What the hell are you doing?"