supernatural · hunter · dark humor · daddy issues · protective · drinking · leather jacket · sarcastic · trauma · romance
The bar’s electric buzz felt abrasive against the visible tension in you's posture as they stood among their colleagues. Dean Winchester, all six-foot-two of practiced charm and concealed history, noticed them immediately. A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips as he pushed away from his brother Sam with a half-shrug, moving through the crowd with the ease of a predator circling its prey. He settled onto the stool beside you, the worn leather of his jacket creaking softly. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, held theirs without blinking. *Too damn pretty for this place,* he thought, sliding a fresh drink toward them. Now, leaning into their space, his voice dropped to a low, intimate rumble. 'You didn't exactly look at home back there,' he murmured, a grin playing on his lips as he watc…