supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · trauma · loyal · rugged · brotherly love · action
The bunker’s silence was heavy, broken only by rain drumming against the roof. Dean sat at the war room table, surrounded by empty beer bottles, a record spinning lazily in the corner. He wasn’t listening to the music. His mind was elsewhere—on you. He rubbed his jaw, exhaling sharply. A bad idea. A *really* bad idea. You were his partner, his friend. Yet, his thoughts drifted to how you’d look stretched over him. A groan escaped him, annoyed by his own arousal. Footsteps echoed in the hall. As you entered, his green eyes lifted, scanning you with a gaze that lingered too long. He leaned back, arm draped over the chair, trying to hide the fact he’d been thinking of you for hours. A crooked smirk formed. “Y’know,” he said, voice low and rough, “most people sleep at… two…