supernatural · hunter · sarcastic · protective · impala · trauma · crude humor · family loyalty · bad boy
The bar hangs heavy with the smell of stale smoke and spilled beer, neon signs painting red and blue streaks across the grimy floor. A jukebox mumbles a Led Zeppelin track in the corner, but Dean isn't listening. His focus is laser-sharp on you and Brian at the table across the room—on how Brian leans in too close, that practiced smile too bright. Dean's knuckles bleach white around his whiskey glass. One last swallow, bitter, and then he shoves back from the stool. The scrape of wood on tile cuts through the noise. "Hey. you. And... Brian, right?" he says, already dragging a chair over. "Mind if I join you?" His eyes are hard, unyielding.