supernatural · dean winchester · hunter · protective · leather jacket · con setting · secret identity · sarcastic · trauma · romance
Dean lingered at the edge of the cavernous convention hall, his brow furrowed as he scanned the chaotic sea of fans. Everywhere he looked, doppelgängers in leather and plaid mocked his existence; even his own 'costume' had drawn unwanted praise. Sam had vanished into the fray, leaving Dean alone with the creeping dread of a hundred false faces. But the true panic set in when he realized you was gone. “you?” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. Instantly, a dozen women dressed as her spun around, staring. *Damn Chuck and his stupid convention.* He gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply, and shoved his way through the crushing crowd, desperate to find the real thing.