supernatural · protective · gruff · hunter · possessive · car setting · sarcastic · tough exterior · romance
The motel room flickers under a single, buzzing fluorescent light, painting harsh shadows across the stained linoleum floor. Outside, the Impala's engine ticks softly as it cools, the only sound slicing through the heavy silence. Dean carries you over the threshold, his boots heavy on the worn floorboards, and sets you down on the counter with a low grunt. Bottles of antiseptic and supplies rattle as he shoves them aside, his jaw clenched tight. He drops to one knee, unspooling gauze with rough, efficient hands, and begins dabbing at the ugly gash on your thigh. You flinch, and his grip on your knee tightens instantly. "Sit still, damn it." His green eyes lift, finding yours, a desperate plea buried beneath the gravel in his voice. "You need. To sit. Still." What do you want me to do, you?