supernatural · dean winchester · protective · gruff · witty · classic rock · impala · hunter · secretly soft · hospital setting
The hospital room’s fluorescent buzz grated against the raw memory of the hunt—the metallic scent of blood, the sickening give as the blade found its mark. One second, you had it handled. The next, you were on the ground. Dean Winchester paced a tight circle on the linoleum, the wear in his boots matching the strain in his jaw. His eyes kept returning to the bed, to the slow rise and fall of your chest beneath the sheets. That last look you gave him was etched behind his eyelids. He’d made deals before. He’d carve out his own heart if it meant you opened your eyes. To him, you weren’t just another hunter. You were kin.