kay

“Welp,” Dean sighed, taking another swig of his beer. “I’d say we’ve earned that day off—or, well, the six hours before we meet up with Bobby.” He continued, rambling basically to himself as Sam’s gaze drifted past Dean’s shoulder. “Whad’ya say? Little daylight pub crawl?”

At the resounding silence, Dean finally noticed his brother. 

Brown eyes wide. Mouth slightly opened. Hand stalled mid air with his glass.

“Sammy?” Dean waved in his little brother’s face. “You listen to a word I said?”

Sam was still frozen, eyes glassy and fixated on something across the bar. “She’s beautiful...” His voice trailed off, breathless and entranced. 

If Dean hadn’t turned to see what the hell he was watching, he might’ve thought Sam had been under some spell. But he looked—at the corner booth over near the pool table—and nearly choked on beer.

Two women were sitting across from one another. Relatively young, late twenties at most, and fucking gorgeous—both of them. Maybe that should’ve been the first warning, but who was Dean Winchester to not notice some pretty girls?

One kinda fluttered in her seat, hands animatedly moving. Around her shoulders was a dainty purple cardigan, and the equally pretty smile she wore practically glittered under the bar lamps. Meanwhile the other seemed to have a perpetual smirk, listening intently to what the purple girl was rambling about as she leaned back languidly into the vinyl. 

As bright and shiny as the first girl was, this one drew him in. Even from across the bar, Dean could see the dozens of puzzling layers that he wanted to spend hours unwrapping—or, more likely, undressing. He couldn’t help it as his eyes trailed across her form. Focus landing squarely on her chipped nails tracing lazy shapes in the glass’s condensation. Then, almost painfully slow, one hand wrapped around the glass, lifting it up to her lips. A single drop of her drink slid down her mouth. 

Slack jawed, Dean watched as her tongue chased the droplet. Her lips still pulled up in a slight smirk.

Dean whistled low. “That.” He enunciated by gesturing the bottle neck towards the woman. “Is trouble. You aren’t messing with that.”

Sam whipped his head around, trance broken and a thin pout now pursed on his lips. “What the hell does that mean?”

His older brother grinned, glancing back at the table just in time to see the smirking one peel off her jacket, revealing a tight green v-neck hugging just the right places. 

“Sorry, Sammy. But you can’t possibly handle all that.”

Sam’s brows pinched, pouting further as he saw exactly where his brother was looking. “Wha—I was talking about the other girl.”

“Purple sweater?”

Sam aggressively nodded, reminding Dean of the time when Sam was twelve and he had a deadly crush on the public pool’s lifeguard.

Dean looked towards the booth again, right on time to seen the green subtly glance back. She locked eyes with him, just once, and then casually resumed her conversation—as if she hadn’t just sent a perfect volley right into his court.

“Bingo.” Dean slammed his empty bottle down, arms now free to wrangle his little brother by the scruff. “C’mon, Sammy. Show time.”

Sam’s eyes widened, fiercely fighting the pull. “Dean—absolutely not.”

But his brother was still grinning wildly as he manhandled the lanky giant. It was far too late for any of Sam’s excuses anyways, as Dean had swiftly parked them right in front of the corner booth. Perks of being in some rundown dive bar in butt-fuck nowhere, this place was smaller than a shoebox.

“Dude—,“ Sam protested right before his brother swiveled him to face the table.

Dean cleared his throat, putting on his signature honey-sweet tone. “Ladies, I was wondering if you could help me and my brother out, we’re in a bit of a pickle here.”

Both girls turned towards them, but Dean instantly watched the green. 

It was like as soon you’d looked at him, smirk mirroring his own, there was nothing else he could see. Blinders on. A hazy vignette perfectly framing your face.

Up this close, however, you looked familiar somehow. But being Dean, he simply swatted it off as the growing buzz of booze and the moment.

Instantly, you perked up. Voice more chipper and bubbly than he was expecting. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” Eyes trailing down Dean as you not so subtly leaned forward, arms pushing your cleavage together.

Well, Dean was in for a world of trouble tonight—and he was ecstatic. 

“What angels.”

This time, your smile glinted as you giggled. “Are you just gonna stand there?” Painted nails gesturing to either side of the booth.

Across from you, the other girl was fidgeting with her hair, far more afraid of holding Sam’s eye contact than you were with Dean. Sam didn’t look put off in the slightest though. In fact, he looked like the place could catch fire and he’d still be staring at her, equally as entrance as the moment he first spotted her across the bar.

Gulping a little, Sam attempted a calm, easy tone. “This seat taken?”

The purple girl smiled sweetly as she fiddled with the long sleeves of her cardigan. “Not at all.”

You grinned. “Well, ain’t that peachy?” Holding Dean’s eye contact as you slid farther into the booth, making a suggestive amount of space for him.

Hell of a way to top off a hunt.

Over the next ten minutes, you’d told the boys all about the roadtrip—your little sister’s graduation present. The names you gave were believable enough, even if Dean had a sneaking suspicion you were fibbing. 

It honestly made him even more intrigued, reflexively leaning closer with every giggle and teasing squeeze you gave to his bicep. Your aura was intoxicating, increasing by the second—so much so that he didn’t pick up on the ways you kept popping in to answer every question, especially the ones thrown your sister’s way. Under normal circumstances, Sam and Dean’s alarm bells would’ve been ringing to hell. But staring at you two had all sense silenced from their minds.

All according to your plan.

Across the table, your sister coughed. “Um, it’s almost half past.”

You pouted dramatically in your seat, Dean’s eyes still trailing your every minor movement. “Gosh darn! I’m sorry boys, we’ve gotta head back. We walked here and our motel’s almost twenty minutes away.”

A lightbulb flickered behind Dean’s eyes, glancing excitedly at his brother. “Walk? At this time of night?” He shook his head at you chastisingly, still smirking. “We can’t have that, I’ll be tied up in knots wondering if you’re safe. How ‘bout we give you both a ride? Our motel’s not far off either.”

In fact, Dean knew there was only one motel in town.

You batted your lashes at him, running your nails down his leather jacket. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”

Dean leaned his smirk closer, eyes darting down to your lips. “I’d say the only trouble here is you.”

Your eyes flared as another high pitched giggle bubbled out. Dean just thought he was just real funny tonight and you were real into it. It only made you laugh harder, positively tickled by how clueless he was by the ironic joke he’d accidentally made.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Your fingers now fiddling with the collar of his jacket.

“What a shame.”

Sam coughed awkwardly, giving your sister a ‘sorry for my brother’ kind of smile when she rolled her eyes at you two. 

“That okay with you?” He asked so tenderly it made your sister visibly gulp.

“Um, yeah, absolutely. Thank you.”

He only nodded, still locking eyes with her. They’d been doing that for the past thirty minutes, basically silent save for your conversation. It was so nauseating you almost forgot yourself and allowed your eyes to roll. Instead, you leaned more into the ditz bit and giggled next to Dean’s ear.

With a grin, Dean clapped his hands, relishing in the feeling of your manicured hand resting on his bicep. “Well, Shall we?”

After parking the car, Dean had an arm draped across your shoulder whilst he showed off Baby—off course, only since you insisted on the full tour. Like you said, you don’t know anything about cars, but they look so darn cute! 

And would you look at that? His car was parked around the back. No one in sight and barely any windows facing that way. Dean, however, didn’t pick up on the fact that there weren't any cars in the parking lot—at all—except his.

“Fixed her up myself.” Patting Baby’s trunk like as slap on the ass.

Your eyes were wide as you stared in awe at Dean. “Goodness gracious! So what do you and your brother do for work? Seem real capable.” The exaggerated giggle making your sister now roll her eyes. 

Dean couldn’t give a shit about your borderline desperate flirting, he’d done far more embarrassing things to sleep with a chick. He was just happy to be at the receiving end of it. 

“We’re mechanics. It’s a family business.” The other arm going out to hook around Sam’s neck. “I do most of the heavy lifting, though.”

Dean somehow grinned even wider as she giggled again. “I bet.”

Beside him, Sam grunted awkwardly. His elbow roughly poking Dean in the rib, hands clawing to remove the around from around his neck. “I don’t feel so good, man.”

Past Sam’s shoulder— and thankfully out of their eyeline—your sister’s head whipped up. Angry recognition flitting across her face as she stared at you. 

Dean shoved Sam’s hand away, glaring out the side of his eye. “You’re fine. Drink some water or something.” However, the sudden motion seemed to remind him of how many beers he must’ve had that night. Head spinning for a moment before he twisted back to you.

Still smiling, you also ignored his brother—and the sniper dot practically appearing on your forehead from your sister’s glare. “You travel a lot?”

Dean squinted, the dizziness whirring around his vision once more. Voice coming through muddy and warped. 

He coughed, “Sorry, I’m, um—a little. Here and there for jobs.”

In an instant, your smile sharpened. Bubbly tone snuffed out. “That why you got stolen plates?”

“Wha—fuck.” 

Dean was slumped over in a second, dropping at the same time as Sam. Whatever they’d been given was strong, but it certainly wasn’t meant to knock them out cold. Still, they were both beyond dizzy, uncontrollably groaning from the piercing squeeze contracting their abdomens.

Not sparing a second, you leaned down and plucked the keys out of Dean’s pocket. “Night night, pretty.”

“Did you really have to do that?” Your sister whined, boots stomping on the pavement as she trailed behind you back to Baby. “All we needed was his wallet!” 

But even with her fussing, you sister quickly scurried into the passenger side. Heart drumming through her ears as she watched Sam doubled over in pain.

You cackled with unbridled glee. Flipping the keys around your pointer as you slid into the driver’s seat. “You need more whimsy, bug. Bit of a flourish here and there ain’t gonna kill you.”

“But it could kill them!”

Casually, you leaned out the car window, peering over at both brothers still groaning on the ground. Dean’s eyes caught your own, still keeled over from the stomach pain, and you smirked—far more supicious and fox-like than he’d realized. 

“They’ll live.”

Through a groan, Dean barked out, “I’m gonna find you, bitch!”

You mockingly laughed as the engine fired up. “Oh I hope so, pretty boy.” 

Baby’s tires smoked as they peeled away from the motel, high tailing it to the interstate.

Now, in the pervading silence, all that was left was the two of them double over and stupidly moaning in pain. The infamous Winchester boys, brought down by a pretty smile and a perfectly placed trap. 

Sam choked on a cough, “Dean, we—jesus—we need’a call Bobby.” A fist coming up to nudge Dean’s shoulder.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been so cruel as to take all their belongings. Still, when Dean messily fished out his wallet and phone with shaking hands, even he was stunned to find them both there. The leather was definitely lighter, all of the cash swiftly slipped from the folds—but everything else was there, even the credits cards.

You could’ve robbed them blind and they’d have no way to follow you for hours. So why not? 

In a more sane and less poison-full state, Dean would wonder what the hell that was about. 

Dumbly, Dean continued groaning on the ground. Fumbling with the buttons as he dialed Bobby’s number.

He grunted in relief when the receiver immediately clicked. Barely letting a second go by before he was grumbling out through gritted teeth, “Bobby, we need’a ride—frickin hell.”

Notes: I giggled uncontrollably writing the last bit, hoping y'all like it!! ;p

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