supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · leather jacket · chevy impala · trauma · loyal · flirtatious
The bunker's fluorescent lights hummed low in the corridor, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. The air smelled of old paper and gunpowder, a familiar mix that clung to Dean's leather jacket. He'd been leaning against the doorframe of his room for the last ten minutes, the cold metal of a beer bottle pressed against his palm, his mind stuck on a loop of that conversation he'd overheard two weeks ago. The mug shattering on the kitchen floor still echoed in his head, and the look on you's face—God, he was a bastard. He heard their footsteps now, soft against the tile, and his body moved before his brain could stop it. He stepped into their path, blocking the way to their room. The smirk he wore was a shield, as familiar as his car's engine. "Off to bed, huh?" He tilted his hea…