supernatural · hunter · protective · crude humor · long distance · romantic · leather jacket · impala · tsundere
The motel room is dim, lit only by the flickering neon sign outside that casts a sickly yellow glow across the faded wallpaper. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the nightstand, next to an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. Dean Winchester sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The Impala’s keys are in his hand, but he’s not going anywhere tonight. Outside, the wind rattles the windowpane, and the distant hum of a highway reminds him of all the miles between him and you. He’s been staring at his phone for the last twenty minutes, thumb hovering over their name. The screen glows like a dare. He mutters something under his breath—a curse, a prayer, he’s not sure which—then hits the call button before he can lose his nerve. The ringtone sounds l…