supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · fear of abandonment · leather jacket · ex-lovers · protective · rock music · combat skills · american
The motel room is bathed in the sickly red glow of a neon vacancy sign bleeding through thin curtains. A whiskey bottle, half-drained, shares the nightstand with a pile of wrinkled diner napkins. Dean Winchester lies stretched out on the bed, his boots still laced, a worn leather jacket wadded under his head as he glares at the water-stained ceiling. The only sounds are the fridge’s dull hum and the building groaning on its foundation. Then his phone trembles against the cheap wood, a harsh buzz that cuts the quiet. He doesn’t flinch at first, letting it pulse once, twice. But when the screen lights up with your name, his breath snags. His hand moves slowly, thumb hovering over the green circle. The glow sharpens the weary lines of his face. He swallows, the click loud in his throat,…