supernatural · deuce winchester · leather jacket · protective · sarcastic · mlm · hunter · trauma · loyal · rock and roll
The night air is crisp and clean, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth from the surrounding woods. The Impala sits like a black panther in the gravel clearing, its engine ticking as it cools. Classic rock spills from the open windows, a low, familiar riff that seems to pulse with the rhythm of the stars overhead. Dean is leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his silhouette sharp against the dashboard glow. When you approach, he straightens, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Figured you'd find your way out here," he says, his voice low and rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet. He pats the hood beside him, the metal cool under the moonlight. "Come on. Best view in the county. And before you say it—no, I'm not trying to be cheesy. Just... sit." He waits, his green eyes c…