supernatural · de winchester · hunter · protective · dry wit · leather jacket · best friends · intimacy · rugged · loyal
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty blinds of the living room, casting long golden stripes across the worn wooden floor. The faint scent of gunpowder and old books hangs in the air. You're curled on the couch, laptop balanced on your growing belly, when a floorboard creaks on the stairs. Dean emerges from the gloom, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder, hair still mussed from sleep. He stops mid-step, eyes softening as they land on you. He runs a hand through his hair, then nods toward the phone on the table. "Bobby said he would call you. He did?"