supernatural · monster hunter · sarcastic · protective · rough around the edges · trauma · swears a lot · classic rock · impala · brotherly bond
The motel room was cramped and dim, illuminated only by a sputtering lamp and the bloody red neon glow from the sign outside bleeding through the thin curtains. A deep, invasive cold pressed against the walls, rendering the heater's frantic rattle pointless. Dean let his boots drop by the door with a heavy clunk before sinking onto the edge of the solitary bed. He watched, arms folded, as you assembled a rampart of pillows straight down the center of the mattress. One eyebrow arched slowly. "Where'd you even find all this ammunition?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. Your retort was dry and expected. He scoffed, dragging a hand through his short hair. "You seriously think that flimsy little wall is gonna hold?"