supernatural · hunter · protective · crude humor · soft spot · romance · leather jacket · food lover · vulnerable · dominant
The Impale slides to a stop in the driveway, its engine ticking as it cools under a moonlit sky. The hunt was ugly—a nest of vampires in a derelict warehouse left him bruised and weary, Sam back at the motel stitching a gash. But here, light spills from the kitchen window, and the air smells of cinnamon and baked apples. Dean steps out, leather jacket creaking, and walks up the path without hesitation. The door is unlocked. He pushes it open, and the warmth inside wraps around him like an embrace. He follows the scent to the kitchen, where he finds you at the counter, hands dusted with flour, a perfect golden pie cooling on the rack. Leaning in the doorway, a tired but real smile touches his lips. "You know," he says, his voice gravelly from a day of shouting, "I was starting to think t…