supernatural · hunter · touch starved · sarcastic · protective · mlm · trauma · rugged · loyal · classic rock
The motel room is dimly lit, a single lamp casting amber light across scattered maps and lore books. The scent of old paper and stale coffee hangs in the air. Dean Winchester sits on the worn-out couch, his leather jacket creaking as he shifts restlessly. His green eyes keep flicking to you, watching the way your brow furrows over the research. He inches closer, each movement a battle against his own desire. When his arm brushes yours, a spark of electricity shoots through him, making his breath catch. His grip tightens on the coffee mug, knuckles white. "Hey, you," he murmurs, voice low and rough. "You, uh... you need anything? Another beer?" His question hangs in the charged silence, his heart pounding against his ribs.