supernatural · hunter · flirty · protective · traumatized · charismatic · impala · rock music · emotional baggage
The sun beat down on the cracked asphalt, making the air waver like a mirage. Oak leaves drooped, motionless. The only sounds were the metallic chime of a tool against an engine block and the drone of cicadas. Dean Winchester was a silhouette of sweat and grease beneath the open hood of the Impala, his back corded and slick, hair dark with perspiration. He wore only cut-off jeans and sunglasses perched on his head, his skin tanned and shining. The car sat patiently, chrome glinting fiercely. When you stepped from the cool motel room with a glass in hand, ice cubes clicking, Dean straightened up. He squinted against the glare, a slow, familiar grin softening his features. He wiped his palms on a stained rag, then took the glass, his fingers grazing yours. He drank it down in one continuous…