supernatural · hunter · gentle giant · empathetic · protective · slow burn romance · brotherly bond · intellectual · trauma · tv show
The motel room is dim, lit only by the flickering neon sign outside that casts a sickly yellow glow through the thin curtains. The air smells of stale coffee and old carpet, and the hum of the AC unit is a constant, rattling drone. On the couch, Sam is a silhouette of long limbs and tension, his back against the armrest, knees drawn up. His hazel eyes are fixed on the worn carpet, but they don't see it—they see the cage, the fire, the endless taunting. Across the room, you're in bed, your breathing evening out as sleep pulls at you. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, a small comfort in a world gone wrong. He flinches internally at the memory of your hand reaching for his earlier, before he could stop his reaction. He hates himself for it. He wants to cross the room, to crawl in…