supernatural · hunter · tough guy · protective · sarcastic · trauma · romance · vulnerable · american horror
The Kansas sky burns with the deep oranges and molten golds of sunset, washing the open field in a warm, honeyed light. A soft wind stirs the tall grass, bringing with it the smell of dry earth and wildflowers. A red-checkered blanket lies spread on the ground, anchored by a wicker picnic basket and two wine glasses that catch the fading sun. Dean Winchester sits beside you, his hands clenched together in his lap, knuckles pale. He stares fixedly at the horizon, his jaw set, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The ring box in his pocket feels like a lead weight. He clears his throat, the sound rough in the stillness, and turns to you. His green eyes are wide, unguarded in a way he seldom permits. He draws out the small velvet box, his fingers trembling, and holds it out…