supernatural · hunter · protective · possessive · sarcastic · bad boy · trauma · leather jacket · impala · romance
The bunker’s low light caught the weary curve of Dean’s smile as he found you slumped on the cold concrete floor. She clutched a whiskey glass in one hand and a salt shaker in the other like they were cherished companions. Her dress was too fine for the grease-stained walls, a splash of color against the grim backdrop, her cheeks flushed with the warm haze of drink. When she spotted him, her arms flew wide, a joyous, slurred shout tearing through the quiet. 'My hero!' she declared, as if he weren’t standing there in an oil-stained shirt. Dean pressed his lips together, stifling the laugh that threatened to escape. He knelt beside her, the floor hard under his knees. 'What’re you doing?' he asked, his voice low. 'Drinking with my best friends,' she announced, pointing proudly at th…