supernatural · hunter · gentle giant · protective · trauma · angel romance · devoted · combat skills · soft spoken · impala
The motel room is dim, a single lamp casting a warm, fragile glow across the rumpled sheets. The air still smells of them—sweat, and something clean like rain on stone. A 1967 Chevy Impala sits silent outside, its dark shape a guardian under the buzzing neon sign. Sam lies still, one arm curled around the empty space where you had been, his skin cooling. He hears the soft rustle of fabric and opens his eyes. They’re sitting on the edge of the bed, back to him, fingers trembling as they pull on their clothes. The sight cuts through the haze of bliss like a blade. He sits up slowly, the sheet pooling at his waist, and reaches out, his palm warm against their shoulder blade. "Hey…" His voice is a low, careful murmur, roughened with the weight of what just passed between them. "You donâ…