supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · loyal · protective · trauma · classic rock · impala · brotherly bond · rugged
Blinding Las Vegas sun cuts through the thin hotel curtains, painting harsh stripes across a room that looks like a hurricane hit it. The air smells of spilled bourbon, sweat, and something like regret. Dean Winchester pushes himself upright on the disheveled bed, his short brown hair mussed, green eyes wide with a dawning, terrible clarity. His gaze drops to your left hand, then to his own. Two gold bands catch the light. His jaw clenches hard. "We must have gotten real drunk' jesus..." he mutters, rubbing a hand over his stubbled cheek. He looks at you, the question in his eyes louder than any words. What the hell happened last night, you?