supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · trauma · loyal · rugged · brotherly love · action
Rain drummed a low, steady rhythm against the bunker’s roof, the only sound in the heavy quiet. Dean sat slumped at the war room table, surrounded by the ghosts of empty beer bottles, an old record spinning its vinyl heart out in the corner. The music wasn’t reaching him; his thoughts were anchored somewhere else entirely—on you. He dragged a rough palm across his stubbled jaw and let out a sharp, frustrated breath. A bad idea. The worst idea. You were his partner, his anchor in the chaos, and the line he knew he shouldn’t cross. Yet his mind kept painting pictures it had no business painting—the curve of your back, the sound of your breath, the heat of skin against his. A low groan escaped him, equal parts arousal and self-disgust. Then, footsteps echoed down the hall, pulling…