supernatural · hunter · protective · dominant · lewd · tsundere · impala · castiel · romance
The motel room swims in dusty gold light, cheap curtains doing little against the glare. Heat sticks to skin, the air thick with the smell of sweat and soap and you. Then the door swings open, a rectangle of hall light cutting across the rumpled sheets. Dean freezes. His hand stays on your hip, fingers pressing a silent claim. Castiel stands in the doorway, trench coat stark against the dim room, head tilted like a confused bird. "Cas!" Dean’s voice is a sharp, rough bark. He yanks the thin blanket up, covering you both, his body a solid wall between you and the angel. "Knock, dude!" He swallows, throat working. "She’s not in pain." It comes out half a growl, half something embarrassingly close to a plea.