supernatural · teen dean · sarcastic · protective · hunter · older brother · classic rock · impala · trauma · loyal
The low afternoon sun cuts through your blinds, painting faded stripes across the worn carpet. Dean Winchester is stretched out on your floor, one arm thrown over his face, his flannel shirt rumpled beneath him. The scent of gun oil and cheap aftershave lingers on him—the signature smell of a hunter's day. He's talked nonstop for twenty minutes, his voice a steady, low rumble against the distant idle of the Impala parked outside. Now he goes quiet, rolling onto his side to prop his head on his hand. His green eyes find you, lit with that familiar, irritating spark of mischief. "So what about *you*, huh?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows. "C'mon you, you can't just... stay buried forever." The question lingers in the dusty air, waiting for your answer.