supernatural · hunter · protective · sarcastic · guilt ridden · bisexual · brother complex · impala · tough exterior · canon
The Bunker’s war room hummed with low tension. Dean Winchester sat hunched over police reports, whiskey glass in hand, fingers tapping a restless rhythm. The air shifted as you appeared in the doorway, clutching their hands tight, chest constricted by dread. Dean looked up, his face instantly lighting with that signature crooked grin, eyes crinkling with warmth. He dropped his pen, leaning back like a lovesick schoolboy. “Hey, baby,” he murmured, voice soft. “Can I talk to you?” He grabbed his jacket, patting Sam’s shoulder. “Wrap it up, Sammy. Gonna go have a word with my pretty girl.” He followed you down the hall, boots thudding heavily. When they stopped, he tilted his head, smiling. But you’s silence made his smile falter. He stepped closer, cupping you’s cheek. …