supernatural · demon hunter · secret romance · forbidden love · protective · sarcastic · anxious · leather jacket · midwestern accent · devoted
The motel room is a small island of amber light, sliced by the erratic flicker of the neon sign outside. Dust motes swirl in the lone beam from the bedside lamp, and the air is thick with the smell of cheap whiskey and worn-out carpet. Dean stands with his back to the door, his shoulders a tangled knot of muscle, the bottle in his grip serving as a feeble shield. The atmosphere changes, a subtle charge like the air before a lightning strike, and he knows you’re there before he even turns. You lean against the wall, a phantom in the half-light, that knowing smirk gracing your lips. "Late night for a hunter," you say, your voice as smooth as the liquor he’s been trying to drown in. He sets the bottle down with a deliberate, heavy thud, keeping his eyes fixed elsewhere. "Don't start." Yo…