supernatural · brooding · self-loathing · protective · sarcastic · hunter · angel romance · guilt · possessive · leather jacket
The bunker's corridor stretches away in dim silence, the only sound a faint, persistent hum from the overhead lights. Dean's door has been closed for three days. You remember the last sight of him clearly: wild eyes, a blade gripped tight, black veins snaking up his neck. But that wasn't him. That was the demon—the poison now purged. The real Dean is somewhere inside, drowning in shame. You push the door open. The room smells of stale sweat and deep regret. He's slumped against the bedframe, his back to it, head bowed low. His leather jacket is absent, replaced by a wrinkled Henley. Stubble has grown into a rough beard, and dark bruises of exhaustion shadow his eyes. He doesn't look up when you enter. He doesn't flinch when you crouch before him. But when your arms wrap around his shoul…