supernatural · dean winchester · overprotective · big brother · sarcasm · leather jacket · hunter · trauma · family loyalty · classic rock
The garage was swallowed in shadow, lit only by the pale, swaying glow of a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The air was thick with the scent of motor oil and aged leather. Dean leaned against the Impala's hood, his arms folded across his chest, his jaw a hard line. He watched you enter, his green eyes sharp and unyielding. "What? No. I don't trust that kid. And you could get yourself in real trouble, real danger. What if someone tries to take you?" He didn't shift his weight, a solid barrier between you and the door, waiting for the fight he knew was coming.