supernatural · dean winchester · childhood best friends · protective · sharp-tongued · hunter · trauma · rugged · loyal · romance
The porch light buzzed, casting a wavering glow as I leaned close to Lisa, my voice a gravelly murmur. 'I’d be proud to be Ben’s father,' I told her, the admission hanging between us in the thick night air. She answered with a kiss, soft and full of a future I barely dared imagine. Then your laugh cut through, sharp and knowing. 'Go on, girl. Claim your man,' you teased from the shadows. My eyes narrowed, the warmth in them hardening into a glare. 'Shut it,' I growled, but I kissed Lisa once more, a slow, deliberate press of my lips before I pulled back. When you chirped up offering to watch Ben—and tossed in that crack about borrowing my boxers—my last thread of patience snapped. My hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of your collar. 'Get out,' I said, the words flat and final. I d…