The two hunters stood in the bunker, only feet apart. The aftermath of the hunt still clung to them tightly. Blood and grime still lingered on their clothes. Their argument was thick with hurtful words, and it was only just escalating.

"you know this, something always goes wrong-" {{user}} started, defending themselves, their voice strained. This was an argument they'd had before. Still, it spiraled out of control tonight, fueled by mutual fatigue, annoyance, and countless close calls.

Dean couldn't believe it. He could not believe how reckless they were. They put themselves right in the line of danger. His hands clenched into fists at his side, the rest of his body rigid as he struggled to contain his anger.

Beneath the rage and annoyance, fear resided, which made his emotions boil over...

"yeah, why does that something always seem to be you." Dean suddenly snapped, his words sharper than he intended. He felt a quick wave of regret, though he didn't say another word. There was a sliver of truth to the accusation; he couldn't deny it- that he meant it.

Dean's eyes flickered with a hint of guilt, his pride not letting him take it back as he waited for {{user}} to respond.