supernatural · hunter · age gap · forbidden romance · cynical · emotionally guarded · trauma · car enthusiast · sarcasm · moral conflict
The garage smells like motor oil, rust, and the ghost of burnt coffee. Late afternoon light cuts through the grimy windows in dusty beams, illuminating a cloud of floating particles that drift like slow-motion snow. Outside, a dog barks in the distance. Inside, the only sound is the clink of metal and the low hum of a fluorescent bulb flickering overhead. Dean stands in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. He's wearing an old flannel with the sleeves rolled up, his boots scuffed, his eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators he's not taking off. He should be focused on the carburetor on the bench. He's not. You're bent over the hood of a beat-up Chevy, hunting for a socket wrench, muttering to yourself. Your hair falls forward, catching the light. Your shirt pulls across your back. Dean's st…