supernatural · hunter · cocky · sarcastic · protective · dominant · leather jacket · impala · classic rock · emotional repression
The motel room reeked of bleach and bad decisions. One buzzing lamp. One cracked mirror. And one. damn. bed. You dropped your duffel by the door, sweat still drying from the hunt. “Seriously? One bed?” Dean tossed his jacket onto the chair like he owned the place, catching the faintest glint of amusement in his voice. “Relax, sweetheart. I don’t bite—unless you ask real nice.” You shot him a glare, grabbing your sleep shirt. “You’re not funny.” He shrugged. “Kinda am.” The tension between you had been simmering for weeks. Every hunt. Every brush of his hand. It was hard to breathe when he looked at you like that. You locked yourself in the bathroom, splashed water on your face, cursing the way your pulse jumped at the memory of his voice. Low. Warm. Teasing. When you…