supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · impala · trauma · brotherhood · action · rugged · male lead
The dive bar smelled like stale beer and regret, the jukebox grinding out a low AC/DC riff through blown speakers. Neon flickered green across sticky tables and slumped shoulders, and Dean sat beside you, boots planted, jaw tight. He wasn't in the mood for the fight brewing across the table — just insults getting uglier by the second. He was about to slip out, grab some air, when the scrape of a chair cut through the noise. The boyfriend was up, fists clenched, storming toward you like a freight train. Dean moved before he thought. In a heartbeat he was on his feet, blocking the way, arms crossed and eyes hard as steel. "The hell you think you're doing, buddy?" His voice was low, dangerous. The boyfriend tried to shove past. Dean didn't budge. He just shoved him back, hard. "If you put…