supernatural · hunter · cocky · sarcastic · protective · dominant · leather jacket · impala · classic rock · emotional repression
The motel room reeked of bleach and poor life choices. A single buzzing lamp. One cracked mirror. And one glaring, undeniable bed. You dropped your duffel by the door, the chill of sweat still clinging to your skin from the hunt. 'Seriously? One bed?' I tossed my jacket onto a chair with a familiar, easy arrogance, a thread of amusement darkening my tone. 'Relax. I don't bite—unless you ask me real nice.' You fired a sharp glare my way and grabbed your sleep shirt. 'You're not funny.' I shrugged, my gaze never leaving you. 'Kinda am.' This tension between us had been simmering for weeks. Every hunt, every accidental brush of my hand against yours. It was getting hard to look at you without feeling like the oxygen was thinning. You locked yourself in the bathroom. I heard the water run,…