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tanaquificTitle: Eye of the Beholder
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tanaquific
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: Teen for language and sexuality
Words: 1060
Summary: In a nondescript bar in yet another unmemorable town, Dean has an encounter he won't forget in a hurry. Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cliche_bingo prompt "Beauty" and inspired by this wonderful art by stereowire.
Disclaimer: These stories are based on the Warner Bros. Television/Wonderland Sound and Vision/Eric Kripke/Robert Singer series Supernatural. They were written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from them nor was any infringement of copyright intended.
Author's Note: Thanks toscribblesinink for the beta.
oOo
The Impala wasn't out front when Dean left the motel room. Which meant he needed to have a serious talk with his little brother when Sam got back about taking a man's car without asking. Sam had muttered something about getting a bite to eat right before Dean stepped into the shower, but Dean'd figured he'd head to the diner down the street. He guessed Sammy must've developed a taste for something more exotic. Probably something healthy.
Dean would be happy with pretzels and peanuts—and a beer or two. After what they'd seen earlier that day, he didn't have the stomach for anything else.
He spotted the woman as soon as he pushed his way into the bar that stood across from the motel. She was lounging on a stool, one elbow resting on the bar, and had somehow angled herself so she was lit perfectly by one of the downlighters. Well, perfectly from Dean's point of view, standing slack-jawed a couple of steps from the door. Because that tattoo must have hurt like fuck to get, but it was so begging him to find out just how far it went after it disappeared under the low neckline of her top. Where it ended....
Trying to scrape his cool together, Dean sauntered up to the empty stool next to her. He cleared his throat. "Mind if I—?"
"Ain't taken." The way she said it made Dean unsure whether she meant the stool or herself. Her voice was soft, with a purr to it. Not like the purr of a cat but the purr of a finely tuned engine.
He slid onto the stool, his mouth dry with anticipation. "I'm Dean."
"Em." She dipped her head. Closer to, she was a little older than he'd first thought: more lines around the eyes, and her skin looked like she'd caught too much sun in the past, and maybe the hennaed hair was hiding more than mousy brown. But she was still hot, and she still had a great figure, and the way that she held herself suggested she could give Dean one hell of a ride.
The bartender made his way over to them.
"So." Dean cleared his throat. "Can I buy you a drink."
She smiled at him, running her tongue around her lips. "Maybe I should ask for a long, slow, comfortable screw up against the wall, huh?" When Dean swallowed hard, she laughed and glanced at the bartender. "Southern Comfort, honey. Straight." She turned her gaze back on Dean. "Sometimes a girl likes it straight, and sometimes she doesn't." She slid the hand resting on her thigh down between her legs.
"Beer," Dean managed to croak to the bartender. Shit, at this rate, she was gonna make him cream his pants right there and then.
"So, you in town long?" Em tilted her head.
"Just passing through." Dean tossed a few dollars onto the bar as the bartender put their drinks down in front of them.
"Just one night, huh?" Em trailed a finger round the edge of her glass, before she dipped it into the amber liquid. Then she slipped the finger between her lips, sucking it clean, the tip of her tongue swirling around it. "Mmmmm."
Dean almost gagged on the swig of beer he'd taken to try and ease his dry throat.
Em glanced over his shoulder for a moment, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She leaned forward, and he caught a whiff of her perfume, which seemed familiar and oddly comforting. "I just need to go... powder my nose," she murmured, sliding off the stool.
Dean watched her sashay along the bar, tilting his head sideways to better admire her rear view.
"Hey." Dean jumped as Sam's hand fell on to his shoulder. "I'm in a booth at the back."
"Dude." Dean shook his brother's hand off angrily. "Can't you see I'm busy." When Sam looked pointedly at the empty stool and raised his eyebrows, Dean hissed, "She's in the restroom, okay? Now get lost before she comes back. And stay lost. Preferably for the rest of the night."
Sam was already backing off when something floated up from the very small part of Dean's brain that wasn't occupied with thinking about how he was going be spending the next couple of hours with those long legs wrapped around him. "Hey, I thought you went to get some food?"
"I did." Sam waved toward the back of the bar. "They do burgers."
"Then where's—? Oh, shit!" Dean was off his stool and out the door before the thought had even fully formed itself.
On the far side of the road, the Impala sat smugly outside the motel, gleaming slightly in the light from the bare bulb strung over the motel room door. Dean let out a sigh of relief.
But his baby definitely hadn't been there when he left the room. A crazy idea began to take shape in his mind. The way Em's voice had reminded him of the Impala as she idled. How her scent had held hints of the woody notes of Dad's aftershave, that still seemed permantly ingrained in the leather of the driver's seat....
"Dude, what—?" Sam had caught up with him.
Dean stared across the street at the Impala. "You didn't take the car?"
"No. I was here the whole time." Sam jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the bar. "Dean, are you okay?"
"Yeah." Dean shook himself. "Come on, Sam, I'm beat. Let's get some sleep."
"What about your lady friend?" Sam frowned at him.
"I guess she split on me when she saw you coming." Dean reckoned Em understood that there were a lot of things he'd admit to Sam, but exactly how he felt about the Impala wasn't one of them.
"Dude, I'm sorry." Sam, hurrying after him as they headed back across the street, sounded genuinely apologetic.
Dean shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Maybe I'll run into her another time."
Passing the Impala, he ran his hand along the curve of her hood. She was still warm to the touch, even though they'd checked into the motel a couple hours back, and he could've sworn there was a whiff of Southern Comfort in the air.
Yeah. Maybe he'd run into her another time. If the magic could happen once, it could happen again....
Author:
tanaquificFandom: Supernatural
Rating: Teen for language and sexuality
Words: 1060
Summary: In a nondescript bar in yet another unmemorable town, Dean has an encounter he won't forget in a hurry. Written for the
cliche_bingo prompt "Beauty" and inspired by this wonderful art by stereowire.Disclaimer: These stories are based on the Warner Bros. Television/Wonderland Sound and Vision/Eric Kripke/Robert Singer series Supernatural. They were written for entertainment only; the author does not profit from them nor was any infringement of copyright intended.
Author's Note: Thanks to
scribblesinink for the beta.The Impala wasn't out front when Dean left the motel room. Which meant he needed to have a serious talk with his little brother when Sam got back about taking a man's car without asking. Sam had muttered something about getting a bite to eat right before Dean stepped into the shower, but Dean'd figured he'd head to the diner down the street. He guessed Sammy must've developed a taste for something more exotic. Probably something healthy.
Dean would be happy with pretzels and peanuts—and a beer or two. After what they'd seen earlier that day, he didn't have the stomach for anything else.
He spotted the woman as soon as he pushed his way into the bar that stood across from the motel. She was lounging on a stool, one elbow resting on the bar, and had somehow angled herself so she was lit perfectly by one of the downlighters. Well, perfectly from Dean's point of view, standing slack-jawed a couple of steps from the door. Because that tattoo must have hurt like fuck to get, but it was so begging him to find out just how far it went after it disappeared under the low neckline of her top. Where it ended....
Trying to scrape his cool together, Dean sauntered up to the empty stool next to her. He cleared his throat. "Mind if I—?"
"Ain't taken." The way she said it made Dean unsure whether she meant the stool or herself. Her voice was soft, with a purr to it. Not like the purr of a cat but the purr of a finely tuned engine.
He slid onto the stool, his mouth dry with anticipation. "I'm Dean."
"Em." She dipped her head. Closer to, she was a little older than he'd first thought: more lines around the eyes, and her skin looked like she'd caught too much sun in the past, and maybe the hennaed hair was hiding more than mousy brown. But she was still hot, and she still had a great figure, and the way that she held herself suggested she could give Dean one hell of a ride.
The bartender made his way over to them.
"So." Dean cleared his throat. "Can I buy you a drink."
She smiled at him, running her tongue around her lips. "Maybe I should ask for a long, slow, comfortable screw up against the wall, huh?" When Dean swallowed hard, she laughed and glanced at the bartender. "Southern Comfort, honey. Straight." She turned her gaze back on Dean. "Sometimes a girl likes it straight, and sometimes she doesn't." She slid the hand resting on her thigh down between her legs.
"Beer," Dean managed to croak to the bartender. Shit, at this rate, she was gonna make him cream his pants right there and then.
"So, you in town long?" Em tilted her head.
"Just passing through." Dean tossed a few dollars onto the bar as the bartender put their drinks down in front of them.
"Just one night, huh?" Em trailed a finger round the edge of her glass, before she dipped it into the amber liquid. Then she slipped the finger between her lips, sucking it clean, the tip of her tongue swirling around it. "Mmmmm."
Dean almost gagged on the swig of beer he'd taken to try and ease his dry throat.
Em glanced over his shoulder for a moment, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She leaned forward, and he caught a whiff of her perfume, which seemed familiar and oddly comforting. "I just need to go... powder my nose," she murmured, sliding off the stool.
Dean watched her sashay along the bar, tilting his head sideways to better admire her rear view.
"Hey." Dean jumped as Sam's hand fell on to his shoulder. "I'm in a booth at the back."
"Dude." Dean shook his brother's hand off angrily. "Can't you see I'm busy." When Sam looked pointedly at the empty stool and raised his eyebrows, Dean hissed, "She's in the restroom, okay? Now get lost before she comes back. And stay lost. Preferably for the rest of the night."
Sam was already backing off when something floated up from the very small part of Dean's brain that wasn't occupied with thinking about how he was going be spending the next couple of hours with those long legs wrapped around him. "Hey, I thought you went to get some food?"
"I did." Sam waved toward the back of the bar. "They do burgers."
"Then where's—? Oh, shit!" Dean was off his stool and out the door before the thought had even fully formed itself.
On the far side of the road, the Impala sat smugly outside the motel, gleaming slightly in the light from the bare bulb strung over the motel room door. Dean let out a sigh of relief.
But his baby definitely hadn't been there when he left the room. A crazy idea began to take shape in his mind. The way Em's voice had reminded him of the Impala as she idled. How her scent had held hints of the woody notes of Dad's aftershave, that still seemed permantly ingrained in the leather of the driver's seat....
"Dude, what—?" Sam had caught up with him.
Dean stared across the street at the Impala. "You didn't take the car?"
"No. I was here the whole time." Sam jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the bar. "Dean, are you okay?"
"Yeah." Dean shook himself. "Come on, Sam, I'm beat. Let's get some sleep."
"What about your lady friend?" Sam frowned at him.
"I guess she split on me when she saw you coming." Dean reckoned Em understood that there were a lot of things he'd admit to Sam, but exactly how he felt about the Impala wasn't one of them.
"Dude, I'm sorry." Sam, hurrying after him as they headed back across the street, sounded genuinely apologetic.
Dean shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Maybe I'll run into her another time."
Passing the Impala, he ran his hand along the curve of her hood. She was still warm to the touch, even though they'd checked into the motel a couple hours back, and he could've sworn there was a whiff of Southern Comfort in the air.
Yeah. Maybe he'd run into her another time. If the magic could happen once, it could happen again....