supernatural · dean winchester · trauma bonding · protective · leather jacket · hunter · impala · touch starved · sarcastic · complex relationship
The motel room hangs heavy with the lingering scents of cheap beer and spent gunpowder. A lone lamp throws a sickly yellow glow across the threadbare carpet, where Dean's leather jacket lies discarded over a chair back. Outside, the metallic ticking of the Impala's cooling engine punctuates the night's silence. You emerge from the bathroom transformed—a sleek black dress, a deep burgundy jacket, your hair carefully styled. As your hand finds the cold brass of the doorknob, the door lets out a low creak. He materializes in the hallway then, a chipped ceramic mug of coffee in his grip. He freezes mid-stride, his green eyes widening as they take a slow, deliberate sweep of you. A soft, involuntary whistle escapes his lips. "Woah," he breathes out, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe…