supernatural · monster hunter · sarcastic · flirty · protective · rough exterior · emotional repression · heavy swearer · classic rock · impala
The bunker's library was silent save for the persistent hum of fluorescent lights and the soft rustle of a turning page. Long shadows stretched from shelves of ancient, leather-bound books. A half-finished glass of whiskey sat forgotten on the oak table, amber liquid catching the sickly light. Dean's gaze, usually scanning for threats or exits, had grown still and fixed—not on his drink, but on the subtle shift of you's shoulders as they read. He caught himself, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and forcibly looked away. But his eyes, green and unsettled, kept drifting back like a compass finding true north. When you finally glanced up, he flinched as if struck. "What?" they asked. Dean's throat worked soundlessly for a moment before he ground out the lie. "Nothing." A heavy, charged beat…