Chapter Text
I wandered into the bar, the familiar scent of whiskey, beer, and sawdust bringing a smile to my face. I’ve always been equally comfortable in dive bars in one of the dozens of states I’ve run through or those where I have a chance to dress up and enjoy the culture and good wine in more upscale surroundings. What can I say? Life has done nothing if not teach me it’s adapt or die.
My heart aches a bit as I catch sight of quite a few couples already at the bar and I rubbed at my chest, as if there might be a physical manifestation of the pain I was still dealing with. Catching the eye of a bartender I recognized from prior visits, I wandered over, asking for a beer and a shot of Jameson.
“Been a while since I’ve seen you, Y/N. What brings you in, and dressed to kill, from the look of things?” Jenna asked, blonde hair swinging as she slid my order over.
I took my shot and indicated my request for another before replying. “Joe - finally had it out with him about the current state of things. Things were said, insults were exchanged, and we handed back our respective spare keys,” I explained coolly, knocking back the second shot without a blink.
Jenna laid a hand on my arm, obvious even to her how I was still vibrating over the exchange. “I know you’re hurting, but remember to try not to take it out on innocents.”
I sneered, my disgust more for the situation than my friend’s advice. “I’ll behave, and, if I have too much, I’ll cab it. I’m fine, Mom,” I told her, lightening the sting of the words with a kiss on her cheek. She and I had had an agreement for a while that I’d text her so she’d know I got home okay.
She nodded in response as I knocked back my third shot and wandered over to the DJ booth, a light buzz filling my head. I’d been a bartender in a previous life, which is how I knew both Jenna and Mike, the DJ, and also how I had such a high tolerance. Mike, though, was a good friend I’d known from before he’d settled down and had a couple of boys that were the apple of his eye. He held me at arm’s length, looking me up and down and taking in my whole outfit with a glance and a wink. Dark wash jeans, softened with both age and use, along with a deceptively conservative-looking red top - from the front at least. In the back, there were lace panels by my shoulder blades, and the rest was a mass of crisscrossing laces, allowing glimpses of a rather ornate version of a Celtic-inspired tattoo. I’d worked my ass off in the past few months, and I preferred to showcase the back view rather than going the cliched cleavage-baring route.
“What happened, gorgeous? You’ve got that no holds barred, ready to take on anyone look. And, hon, when that happens, most of the smart locals steer clear,” he commented, glancing over as the songs changed to verify his domain continued to run smoothly. I shrugged, taking a swig of my beer as my eyes grew shiny. I’d be damned if that man was going to make me cry, but Mike, ever the eagle eye, caught it all the same. He went to hug me, and I held up a hand to forestall him.
“Much as I appreciate the sentiment, I’m not about to ruin this makeup job over that bastard,” I told him with a chuckle. “I’m on the prowl for Mister Right Now, anyways. Gimme some good tunes in a bit, and I’ll make sure to send Jenna over with some shots for us later.”
“You be good, darlin,” was his parting shot.
I smirked as I walked backward, beer held high. “You know me, Mike - I’d rather be good at it!” I called out, moments before I backed into a solid line of muscle.
*****
Dean
It had been a quiet week so far - after the last case, I just wanted some time away from the concerned looks Sammy kept throwing my way. I was also determined to rinse the last of that virginal crap I’d had to stomach on that case as soon as damn possible. I’d seen this one bar near the interstate as we’d driven through, so I left Sam at the Bunker and drove Baby downtown. Stircrazy seemed like my kind of bar as I ID’d the bouncer and wandered into a haze of pounding bass. I did a quick glance around, taking in the bar to the right of the room, the smattering of couples and singles, the slightly used (for now) dance floor, and, my moneymaker if girls didn’t pan out - two well-loved pool tables. I was making my way around the dance floor to check out the cues when I heard a smoky laugh from just in front of me. A nicely curved backside was backing up, brunette hair piled high so that I had a perfect view of her golden tanned back, a Celtic tattoo peeking through the laces on the back of her top. I stood there for a moment, taking her in as I heard her call out. “You know me, Mike - I’d rather be good at it” right before she backed into me.
I instinctively grabbed a hold of her hips to steady her, but not before that delicious ass made contact with my crotch. She fit so well into that spot between my hips, it was all I could do not to groan at the sensation. Then she turned in my arms, and I did groan. Even in her heels, she only came up to my chest, so I put her real height closer to Charlie’s than not. Her lips were glossy, dark red, and parted as she stared up at me.
“Hey there, darlin. New around here?” she asked, a smirk growing on her face.
“Just passing through after a case with my brother. We’re P.I.s,” I said, extending a hand as she took a step back. “I’m Dean, by the way.”
“Y/N. I haven’t been here in a while myself, and it looks like they changed things up a bit while I was gone,” she mentioned, looking around as more people filtered in.
The heat of her close to me, and the scent of her perfume were clouding my senses, but I also didn’t want to scare her off by being too aggressive. Something about her said being too pushy was the quickest way to a fuck off, when I was gunning for a fuck YES.
“Do you want to, Dean?” she asked, and I realized I hadn’t heard a word she’d just said.
“Say again?”
She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and shook her head with a smirk. “I said, tell me I don’t have to ruin your night by having to ditch someone who can’t handle Jamo shots.”
I smirked myself in response and saw her pinken a bit when I did. “Lead the way - I’m always game for some shots, and a few rounds of pool, if you’re game for it.”
“How about I buy the shots, you buy the pool?” she offered.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” I said with a grin.
*****
Y/N
I swear - that smirk of his should be classified as a deadly weapon. I had felt that momentary hip thrust when I’d backed up further than I’d meant to when that initial shock of bumping into solid muscle had me misstepping. But, damn, he was good-looking! Jewel green eyes with color that deepened as he’d given me the once over; lips so lush I was resisting the urge to nibble on them - I mean, we just met, for Goddess’ sake!
So, let’s see where tonight leads us, I thought, though, out loud, I just asked Dean if was game for some shots, though it looked like he was zoned out watching the dance floor at the moment.
But then his nostrils flared and his eyes zoned back to mine with such intensity, I knew I might just need to double check with Mike and Jenna before I left tonight. Better safe than sorry, yeah?
“I’m sorry - say that again?” he asked, and then flashed that smile that told me tonight was about to get way more interesting. Oh, Lord and Lady help him - Dean had no idea the mood I was in tonight! I watched him charm his way through the crowd to grab one of the available tables ahead of a few preppy-looking kids I’d seen bothering Jenna earlier.
“Dude, piss off,” one of them called out, trying to claim the table for themselves. I decided his nickname was now Tweedle Dumb; his buddy who was just following along with the asshole was now Tweedle Dee.
“Sorry, man, me and the lady got here first,” Dean said calmly, and Tweedle Dumb turned to look at me and his eyes lit up. His mistake.
He swaggered towards me and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes for the moment. “Come on, baby. We’ll show you a much better time than Mr. Flannel here. You sure look like you’d be a lot of fun.”
I saw Dean stiffen at that last comment out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored it in favor of the present, albeit drunk, threat in front of me. I calmly finished my beer and tossed it in the trash, mainly to prevent me from giving into the momentary urge to crack the bottle and use the jagged edge to convince Tweedle Dumb to try elsewhere. But, we were in public, and it wasn’t that kind of bar.
“A better time, huh? Why don’t you go find a brainless bimbo to pawn your overtired lines on, because I am NOT in the mood. I mean, honestly, boy, I’d need to give you step-by-step instructions, with pictures, mind you, for you to know how to please me - and that’s on the off chance your dim ass even follows them to begin with,” I ranted, and went to walk back to Dean when I felt the asshole grab at my arm - hard.
I rolled my eyes in Dean’s direction this time, before turning slightly and glancing down at Dumb’s hand on my arm. “Hands off, buddy. I’m not in the mood to deal with children tonight.”
“Who you calling a child, you frigid bitch?!” he hollered, pulling at me in an attempt to whip me around into the circle of his “alpha” buddies. I simply grabbed his hand and used his momentum to take a firm grip and twist his arm behind his back.
“I told you to back off - you wouldn’t listen,” I hissed out as he yelped in pain and I hollered for the bouncer. “Sorry to be doing your job for you this time, but asshole here just wouldn’t understand the word no,” I explained, as 6’5” of hulking muscle ambled over, shaking his head at the incapacitated Tweedle Dumb.
“Don’t see you in ages, Y/N, and here you are, getting into all kinds of trouble,” Jeremy joked as he hauled Dumb to his feet and began escorting him and his party to the door. “I strongly suggest you and your friends find another bar- we don’t need you harassing the regulars,” he said, firmly escorting Dumb’s party out of the bar. He wandered back over as Dean walked up, cues in hand, and I jerked a thumb in Dean’s direction.
“I’m with this one - I like guys who figure out I can handle myself around asshats,” I said, and Jeremy laughed and went back to his post. Turning back to Dean, I thanked him for the beer he’d gotten for me and looked at the table. “So, am I breaking or racking?” I asked, and Dean laughed.
*****
Dean
I don’t like it when other men want to act like assholes, especially when they’re set to ruin an otherwise decent start to my night. I’d made half a step toward Y/N before I checked myself at the look on her face. She was pissed at being interrupted, which was working in my favor. Then, she took the asshole down to size, both physically and mentally, and I had to wander over to the side bar for a shot to temper my reaction, because nothing does it for me like a capable woman. I was sorely tempted to grab hold of her and kiss her senseless against the pool table, but, after her display, I figured I’d let her decide the pace of the evening. She ambled over, a beautiful smirk on full display, as I handed her her drink.
“So, am I racking or hitting?” she asked and I smiled.
“Oh, I want to see you hit your shot,” I said, watching her turn away, blush on her face as she rolled her cue stick in her fingers.
*****
Y/N
That damn smile was killer, that’s for sure, I mused as I rolled the ball around in my hand while Dean racked. But I needed to work off my frustrations first, cuz I was betting Dean wasn’t in the mood for angry sex, and, if I was being truly honest with myself, neither was I. I was so distracted and in my own head, I broke the arrangement up nicely, but didn’t get anything in, and damn near scratched to boot!
Dean ambled over, leaning close, and whispered “A little distracted from having to put that moron in his place?”
I smiled as I moved aside so he could take his shot, easily sinking the three. “Nah, my mind was on something else,” I said, eyes wandering down to his hands as they slid up and down the cue stick, making me imagine him running those hands up and down other things.
He glanced back, catching me watching him, and grinned, his tongue poking out from between his lips for a moment before he turned back around, taking a shot that knocked the five in, but also the cue ball.
Walking over, I wandered around the table, analyzing the stripes while I rolled the cue ball in my hand. A move out of the corner of my eye had me glancing up to catch Dean readjusting, but I simply smiled, set down the little white ball, and hit it. I knocked in the nine and the cue ball bounced off, landing just perfectly for me to lightly tap the thirteen into a side pocket. I felt a line of heat behind me before there were hands gently on my hips and a semi-familiar scent of gun oil and wood smoke surrounding me.
Leaning down a bit, (not hard to do when you’re short like me), Dean breathed against my ear, making me shiver and back up into him a bit more than I’d planned. I was distracted momentarily by what I found when I heard his next words. “So, if you’re as good a player as you seem, want to make it interesting?”
I ground back against the hard-on I could feel forming against my ass. “Depends on your definition of interesting.”
His fingers tightened on instinct and the sensation of the power behind those hands had me squirming a bit more, making him chuckle. “I think we’re on the same page on our definition of interesting,” he said, thumbs rubbing circles on my hips and really distracting me from what he was saying, and I asked him to repeat it.
“So, as I said, how about best two out of three - loser buys a round of shots - and none of that girlie shit either,” he cautioned and I laughed, turning around in his arms to face him.
“I’m a Jameson girl all the way, thank you very much, as I’ve already established. As for making it interesting? We’ll see, so, you’re on, but it’s still my shot.” I said, and went to turn around, but he didn’t back up. Tossing a look at him over my shoulder, I watched him grin, but not move an inch.
“You’re a good pool player - you’ve had to deal with distractions before,” he said and rubbed at my hips again as my shot went wide, angling off the edge and only tapping the twelve.
Wriggling out from between him and the table, I muttered “There are distractions, and then there are distractions. Your shot, smartass.” I stuck out my tongue at him as I wandered over to my drink, but he walked over, a semi-serious look on his face.
“Don’t be sticking that out unless you plan on using it later,” he joked, eyes staring into mine, green on Y/E/C.
“Who said I wouldn’t?” I countered, then tapped him on the ass with my stick. “Go play, hotshot. I’m getting the next round of drinks.”
“And shots,” he called out and I nodded assent as I walked away, making sure to put an extra sway in my hips as I did so.