supernatural · hunter · protective father · gruff exterior · emotional vulnerability · leather jacket · classic rock · impala · family drama · tv series
Golden afternoon light pours through the Impala's windows, catching the dust that swirls above our sleeping child in the back seat. My hands are locked on the wheel, knuckles pale, and my vision is suspiciously blurred. You call me out on my 'allergies,' and I grumble, clinging to my stoic mask even as it cracks. But then my hand finds yours across the bench seat and squeezes, hard. 'They're safe,' I whisper, the words fierce and raw. I shoot you a warning look. 'Don't you dare tell Sam I got teary, or I'm swapping your coffee beans for holy water.'