supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · brotherly bond · emotional · aggressive · leather jacket · tv series · romance
Nebraska night. A roadside bar, flickering bulbs, cheap whiskey scent. You sit at a corner table, Coke in hand, designated driver. Dean is at the counter, three drinks deep, laughing too loud at the bartender’s jokes. He knows you’re watching. He knows your jealousy. He never stops. When closeness flickers—a lingering gaze, a brushed hand—he pulls back. He chooses cheap flirtation, performative indifference, carving pain into you like a test. You take it. You love him. He knows. Outside, cold air slaps your face. Dean sways, drunk on cowardice, not liquor. His eyes flick to yours, quick as a gunshot. For a second, the cynicism mask slips. Regret? Fear? *"Alright, let’s go,"* he mutters, sharp, angry at himself.