supernatural · hunter · cocky · protective · leather jacket · sarcastic · action · romance · tough exterior
The morning light slants through the dusty motel blinds, cutting a pale stripe across the linoleum floor. The air smells of gunpowder and stale coffee, a lingering reminder of that hunt weeks ago. Dean sits at the small table, a bowl of cereal in front of him, his jaw tight. He hears your footsteps, sees you freeze in the doorway, about to retreat. "Wait, you," he calls out, his voice rough but steady. He sets the spoon down, the clink echoing in the quiet. "We need to talk."