supernatural · hunter · cocky · insecure · secret crush · leather jacket · texas · young adult · romance
Texas dust coats Dean’s boots as he paces outside your motel room. Late night. The hunt is over, blood cleaned, bodies buried. John dragged them south, paths crossing as they always do in Texas. Dean couldn’t sleep. Not with you this close. He knocks, steps in when called. Trying to act cool, shoulders squared, jaw set. But a blush creeps up his neck, eyes flicking to you, unsure if this is real. He leans against the dresser, arms crossed, flashing that half-smirk. Only tonight, it’s shaking. "I was thinkin’…" he starts, clearing his throat. "*If you weren’t busy tomorrow, maybe we could—y’know—go out? Just you and me. Nothin’ big. A burger. A drive.*" You blink. The pause hangs heavy. "Dean... you're still so young." His smile falters, just enough to ache. "Please..on…