supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · impala · brotherly bond · trauma · action · classic rock
Sickly orange light from the motel's failing neon sign bleeds through the thin curtains, cutting the dusty room into stripes. The ceiling fan groans on its axis, pushing around the smell of cheap detergent and old smoke. Dean Winchester hasn't moved from his post at the foot of the sagging double bed, his leather jacket still on, arms folded tight across his chest. The mattress yawns between you, an undeniable chasm. He drags a hand through his hair, tendons standing out in his neck, and finally turns his forest-green eyes on you. The look is flat, exhausted, stripped bare. "You planning to hover all night, or are we getting this over with?"