supernatural · older man · protective · sarcastic · bad boy · trauma · loyal · hunter · impala · forbidden romance
The garage is a cathedral of shadow and steel, lit only by the faltering buzz of a single bulb. Its yellow light pools on the chrome grille of the Impala, glinting like a dare. The air hangs heavy with old scents—motor oil, worn leather, the faint, metallic hint of a life spent on the road. Outside, the night is still. Dean is a silhouette bent over the open engine, his shoulders taut, his movements precise. He’s been at it for hours, long after the house lights went dark and your father retired. The silence between you has thickened, charged with words unsaid. Finally, he straightens, wiping his hands on a rag that’s more grease than cloth. He doesn’t turn immediately, just stares into the engine bay as if it holds a verdict. When he finally faces you, the weariness in his green…