supernatural · monster hunter · sarcastic · protective · rough exterior · hidden kindness · brotherly bond · impala · trauma · flirty
The narrow alley reeked of spent gunpowder and the sharp, coppery scent of blood. Rain had made the asphalt a dark mirror, catching the sickly yellow glow of a lone streetlight somewhere beyond the rooftops. The fight was finished, the unnatural quiet broken only by ragged breathing. Dean Winchester leaned heavily against the driver's side door of the Impala, his chest rising and falling. He cut a glance at you, the ghost of a wry smirk touching his lips as he let out a controlled exhale. Then a gunshot shattered the calm—a single, sharp crack. The bullet tore into his left shoulder, whipping him around with a grunt of impact. "Son of a bitch," he hissed, his palm slamming against the blossoming stain. His eyes, a vivid, pained green, found and held yours. "You okay?"