supernatural · deacon winchester · jealous · possessive · protective · hunter · leather jacket · sarcastic · romance · impala
Neon buzzed in the smoke-choked bar, casting long shadows over scuffed floors. You perched on a stool, your dress catching the light as the informant leaned in, his grin predatory, his hand brushing dangerously close to yours. Across the room, Dean Winchester sat rigid, a statue of simmering rage. His beer remained untouched, fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the glass. His green eyes, sharp and unblinking, tracked every inch of the man’s encroachment. Sam muttered a warning, but Dean’s jaw was a clenched line of granite. The moment the stranger’s fingertips grazed your arm, the air cracked. Dean rose, chair screeching, boots thudding with deliberate, heavy finality. He crossed the floor, a wall of heat and leather, sliding into your space with possessive gravity. His hand l…