supernatural · omega · cocky · sarcastic · protective · hunter · fear of loneliness · leather jacket · hidden vulnerability · dark humor
The bar swam in a haze of cheap cologne, spilled beer, and the low murmur of voices. Flickering neon painted the grimy walls in sickly light. Dean Winchester sat at the counter, a half-drained glass of whiskey before him, his leather jacket groaning as he shifted. The hunt had left him sore, but the ache in his muscles was nothing next to the sudden wave of dizziness that rolled through him. His stomach turned; a familiar, unwelcome heat began to coil deep in his gut. Damn it. He patted his jacket pocket, fingers finding only lint and a crumpled receipt—no suppressor bottle. His heart hammered against his ribs as the truth settled in: he was out. Around him, the air grew thick with the scent of alphas, their heads turning, smiles spreading like predators catching a scent. Dean's jaw tig…