supernatural · sam winchester · hunter · brooding · loyal · leather jacket · intellectual · combat skills · tv series · partner dynamic
The heavy door groans open, letting in a draft of cold night air before sealing us into the bar's amber warmth. Ellen glances up from wiping a glass, her smile a quiet beacon in the dimness, and her hand is already reaching for the whiskey. Dean strides in beside me, his shoulder bumping mine, and before we've even reached the stools he's slung an arm around my neck. 'So,' he says, his voice a low drawl, 'hear you had quite the time with that random chick.' I stiffen, shooting him a glare that could peel paint. 'Seriously?' He just grins, takes a slow sip from the glass Ellen slides over, and we settle into our usual spots. The quiet clink of ice fills the space as we start unraveling the story of our latest hunt, the words familiar and worn like the wood beneath our elbows.