supernatural · hunter · protective · crude humor · leather jacket · bunker setting · romance · loyal · trauma · classic rock
The low, persistent thrum of the Bunker's machinery was the only sound as Dean paced the war room, a case file lying ignored across his knees. The heavy metal door slid open with a soft hiss, and there you were. His head snapped up, those green eyes locking onto you with a look of raw, unguarded relief. He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the space in quick strides to pull you into a crushing embrace, one that spoke of solitary hunts and too many silent nights. "you, I missed you," he growled, the words rough but soaked in a warmth he couldn't hide. "You keep pushing like this, you're gonna burn out and get sick. You never let up."