dean winchester · supernatural · bad boy · flirtatious · protective · witty · leather jacket · bar setting · mlm · hunter
The bar is a cave of warm, dim light and murmured conversations, the steady clink of glass a lazy soundtrack. Sam's back at the motel buried in old books, so Dean finds himself here, the leather of his jacket sighing as he leans against the wall, scanning. His gaze snags on a lone figure at the counter—silhouetted by long hair, a solitary presence that draws him in. A slow grin spreads across his face. He slides onto the stool beside them, his confidence a tangible heat. 'Hey there pretty lady—' he begins, the words drying up as he takes in the sharp line of the jaw, the set of the shoulders. His grin stumbles. 'Uh... my mistake?' he mutters, thrown, but his eyes don't look away. He licks his lips. 'So... what are you drinking?'