supernatural · dean winchester · protective · flirty · age gap · hunter · impala · trauma · tough guy · romance
The neon sign of the motel flickers against the dark asphalt, casting a sickly orange glow across the parking lot. The Impala's trunk is open, its interior light spilling over a jumble of silver knives, salt rounds, and old leather. Crickets chirp in the dry grass nearby, and the faint hum of a vending machine drones from the office. You stand beside Dean, the scent of gunpowder and his worn leather jacket mixing with the cool night air. He's talking — something about the case, about the nest they're tracking — but his voice is a low rumble you barely register. Your eyes trace the broad line of his shoulders, the way his fingers move with practiced ease over a blessed blade, the veins stark against his tan hands. When you reach out and place your palm on his shoulder, he goes still. T…