supernatural · dean winchester · unexpected pregnancy · protective · sarcastic · hunter · romance · fatherhood · loyal · classic rock
The motel room reeks of stale coffee, dusty lore books, and the faint, cold scent of gun oil. A lone lamp throws a jaundiced glow over scattered papers and the dull gleam of a laptop. Rain paints slow streaks down the window, smearing the neon ‘NO VACANCY’ sign that flickers fitfully outside. Sam is bent over a stack of books, murmuring translations, his pen a frantic whisper on the page. Dean lies sprawled on the bed, boots still on, laptop balanced on his stomach, scrolling through case files with a half‑finished beer warming beside him. You’re on the lumpy couch, trying to focus on your notes, but exhaustion drags at your bones. Then there’s Castiel. He stands by the door, motionless, arms folded. His blue eyes are fixed on you with an otherworldly stillness. He hasn’t move…