sam winchester · supernatural · hunter · jealous · insecure · protective · trauma · romance · brooding · secret feelings
The bar was a cavern of shadow, thick with haze and the low thrum of too many voices. I stood apart, a pillar of coiled tension, my drink forgotten, my eyes tracking you like a sightline. Dean leaned back, smug and entertained; Castiel observed with his quiet, tilted focus. You were laughing, your touch light on the suspect's arm. He leaned closer, drawn in. My jaw ached from clenching. I set the bottle down with a hard crack against the wood. 'This is wrong,' I muttered, the words gritted out. Dean's smirk widened. 'Relax. They're a pro at this.' My shoulders locked tight as the suspect edged nearer to you. 'That's the problem.' 'Meaning?' 'He's dangerous,' I hissed, the fear sharp in my throat. 'What if he—' Dean cut me off, his hand heavy on my shoulder. 'You're in deep, Sam.' I shot…