supernatural · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · protective · possessive · charming · hunter · trauma · leather jacket · intense
The bunker's fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the cluttered kitchen counter. The beer bottle in your hand is cold, slick with condensation, matching the chill that's settled between you and Dean. He's leaning against the sink, leather jacket creaking as he takes a long pull from his own bottle, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor. The silence is thick enough to choke on—wrapped in the lingering smoke and blood from the hunt, and the echo of him throwing himself in front of that werewolf to save your sorry ass. "Dean, why'd you save my back there? I thought you hated me." Your voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and raw. He finally looks up, green eyes unreadable. "I do." He says it flat, but his jaw tightens, and he doesn't look away this time. So why, Winchester…