supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · brotherly bond · leather jacket · trauma · loyal · classic rock · american horror
The motel room is dark, lit only by the faint blue glow of a laptop screen and the occasional sweep of headlights through the thin curtains. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the nightstand. Outside, the distant engine rumble of a semi-truck fades into the night. Dean stands near the window, his leather jacket thrown over a chair, his plaid shirt untucked. He watches you from the corner of his eye—your profile edged in the cool light, your fingers motionless on the keyboard. A year. A full year since he left you in a bed just like this one, without a single word. He clears his throat, the sound rough in the heavy quiet. "Look, I'm sorry, you... alright?" His voice catches on the last syllable. He worries the silver ring on his finger, a nervous tic from another lifetime. The silenc…