A.N. Huge thanks to Charlie4short for her much valued beta-ing & her imagination.
Warning : Adult themes. Please note 'M' rating.
BARGAIN HUNTER
Having already agreed to a very promising date, Dean doesn't intend
to be a no show, not when Sam's sole argument against him going is
a 'gut feeling'; so is indigestion! When Dean texts saying he's cutting
out on his date, Sam relaxes and waits for his brother to come home.
Eventually, Sam stops waiting, and starts hunting...
-oOo-
Prologue
"So, she picked you up?"
"Yeah. And why wouldn't she? You know I'm hot, an' I know I'm hot."
"Right...An' you're not vain at all!"
"S'right. I'm just sayin' it like it is Sammy. The ladies like how I'm packaged an', lucky for them, I'm the obligin' type. I'm fully emansculinated."
"Huh?"
"Y'know, that word...The one that means I'm like a male feminist, I don' get snarky about women doin' the askin'?"
"Well, take your pick. There's emancipated an' then there'semasculated, which one are you?"
"Fine Mr Intellect, so I mispronounced it, but I obviously meant the second one; that's the male version of the other one, ain't it? Kinda liked my version better though an'...What?...Why're you sniggerin'?"
"Hang on. See for yourself...Here you go dude. The meanin' of emasculated ."
Sam Winchester watched while Dean read the information from his brother's I-pad, his eyes growing wide and saucer like, and his handsome features resetting themselves into 'mortified', instantly throwing Sam into a helpless fit of the giggles. His laughter increased at Dean's protests in which he pointed out that he and Little Dean were obviously still firmly attached to one another and threatened to reveal the proof unless he be allowed to change his choice to emancipated.
-o-
There were all too many events and periods during the brothers' lives when any brief moment of relaxed good humour between them was so rarely in evidence, that Sam could easily convince himself any such moments had only ever existed in his own dreams. Times like this then, when their lives and the job were not dominated by hopelessness, back breaking stress, soul sapping grief, constant fear and demands on them to achieve the seemingly impossible, were precious to them both. It made Sam hate all the more the fact that he was about to risk loosing this moment and, instead, trigger an argument between them, but there was something he felt he had to share with Dean, something Sam felt was important enough to raise with his older brother despite being unable to provide him with any solid reasoning or evidence.
-o-
Dean was smiling while Sam topped up their coffees and placed what remained in the pot back on the machine's warming plate. His smile quickly faded however when Sam sat opposite him again at the kitchen table, and he saw the serious expression his younger brother now wore. Dean waited, watching Sam frown as he gathered his thoughts before speaking. Staring down into the depths of his coffee, Sam wondered how to start. He needed to somehow impress onto Dean that he was seriously concerned about this woman who had bought Dean a drink, and invited him on a date. Sam had felt the unexpected worry and unease settle heavily in his gut when Dean talked about going to meet up with her again. It wasn't like it was a first for Dean. Women of all ages, shapes, ethnicities and everything else, frequently slipped him their number, or sent bartenders over with drinks for him, or simply flirted with him outrageously and without an ounce of subtlety; sometimes in full view of husbands or partners. Always made for a fun night out that one. Normally when Dean hitched up with some female and told Sam not to wait up for him, Sam would roll his eyes and remind Dean to use a condom. So he himself couldn't understand why, on this occasion, he was experiencing such strong sense of wrongness. What Sam did know was things generally didn't end well if he ignored and didn't act on these sudden and powerful feelings, whatever the lack of foundation for them. Raising his head, he took a deep breath.
-o-
"Look Dean, I want to, but I really can't explain this, so there's no point askin' me but, I've got a seriously bad feeling about your date. Somethin's tellin' me this woman equals big trouble...
Dean didn't wait for Sam to finish.
"A 'bad feeling'? Oh, c'mon Sam. You gotta do way better than that if you're gonna try an' compete with what she's offerin'! You weren't even there man, so you gotta give me somethin' to convince me if you're not gonna tell me where this bad feelin's comin' from? You sure it's not just you regrettin' that you didn't come with me to the bar, 'cos maybe if you had, she could'a rustled up a hot friend who likes giants with girly hair?"
A silence fell between the two brothers, finally broken by Dean, his voice consolatory.
"Sammy? Honestly? If this' somethin' about you not wantin' to be on your own? Just say the word an' I'll blow her out. Or instead, how about curlin' your hair an' comin' along with me tonight?"
Sam hitched an eyebrow and stared at his brother with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
"Tell me you're kiddin'! Go with you on your date night? You need your hand holdin' or somethin'? And what's all that about me not wantin' to be on my own? Where's that come from? I mean, why wouldn't I wanna have an evening alone, you know? An evenin' completely undisturbed by the Dean Winchester patented verbal diarrhoea?"
Dean put his head in his hands and made a whimpering noise before emerging to look at Sam again.
"Verbal...? Verbal...? Priceless words of wisdom, little brother of mine. That's what I give you! Not my problem if you've no appreciation kid."
-o-
Sam snorted at the feigned despairing look accompanying Dean's words, before then giving in with a sigh.
"Know what? You're right Dean. I can't give you anythin' solid why you shouldn't head out tonight...So, maybe the churnin' in my gut's not me worryin'?...Hey! Now I think about it? Maybe it's just trapped wind?"
Dean hurriedly backed a couple of steps away from his brother while adopting a terrified expression.
"Crap! You just keep a hold on yourself Samantha, 'till I get a safe distance away!"
Grinning, Sam watched Dean beating a hasty retreat, heading down the corridor towards his room. Dean was about to disappear at a turn in the hallway when Sam called out after him.
"Tell me this though Dean...How come you didn't just go back to this woman's place last night, like you normally would?"
Pausing to glance back over his shoulder, there was a note of exasperation in Dean's reply.
"Enough Sam. Seriously. Stop before you get any more irritating!"
-o-
Dragging the one white tee that had somehow managed to avoid blood, grass, oil, sulphur, indelible under arm stains or smoke damage out of his dirty laundry basket, Dean brought it to his face and sniffed at it. His nose wrinkled at the smell of mothballs and old tobacco which clung to the tee from the case he and Sam had worked when he last wore it.
"Guess it's laundry day today."
Using the tee to bundle up a selection of whites, Dean stopped off at Sam's room, collecting together his brother's white laundry before wandering down to the utility room. When they first moved into the bunker, he had got a kick out of there being washing and drying facilities on site. Now, though, he occasionally missed those past trips to the nearest laundromats. He'd met some very friendly women in those places on occasions. Other times he had just sat, comfortably relaxed and enjoying listening to the everyday conversations of Joe Public as they happened around him.
Noticing that the dryer was full, Dean began emptying it, taking his time to sort the clean cloths into his andhis piles and re-introducing socks to their partners. Naturally enough, his thoughts drifted back over the night before, when he was approached by the woman he was due to meet up with again this coming evening.
-oOo-
Chapter 1
-oOo-
Although straight forward enough, the job they had taken on ended with an evening of heavy labour, the culprits being fraternal twins, which meant two graves to dig out and then re-bury after the salt and burn. Tired, Sam had wanted nothing more than to return to the bunker. Having dropped the younger hunter off, Dean had then carried on to a popular bikers' bar, needing to clear the taste of burning bones out from the back of his throat and to be with people who's lives didn't revolve around the supernatural. Dean had been content to find himself a booth situated in a dimly lit corner and sit with his beer and chaser, listening to the background sounds of classic rock. He hadn't even noticed the woman until, coming to a standstill by the booth, she had silently placed another beer and chaser in front of him before lowering herself into the opposite seat. Running long fingers through the heavy fringe of her glossy dark hair, she brushed it back off her face. When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly deep for a woman and carried the hint of a New York twang.
-o-
"You look tired, man. Just get off work?"
He wasn't really in the mood for pointless chit chat, but she had made it impossible for Dean to give her the fast brush-off by presenting him with drinks. He decided he could put up with keeping things light, being friendly for long enough to buy her a drink in return, but at the same time let her know he wasn't up for an all-nighter.
"Yeah, been a long shift. Couple more drinks, then I'm outta here."
The woman regarded him with mild curiosity.
"Heading back home to the wife?"
The woman was obviously fishing. Dean shook his head 'no'.
"Not wife; brother. We share a place together."
She smiled at that.
"Really? Guess you two must be close if you can stand living together?"
Dean shrugged, not willing to open wide the window on his life for the woman.
"We have our ups and downs."
Remembering his manners, he held his hand out to the woman across the table.
"Name's Dean."
-o-
When she shook his hand Dean's curiosity was piqued by the impressive strength in her grip. He took a minute to scrutinize her. Dressed all in black - leather pants, tee and a well-worn leather biker's jacket - she wasn't the pretty and dainty type. Surrounded by thick, sleek, black hair hanging to just beyond her shoulders, her honey-coloured features were strong and well-defined, almost regal. Perfectly shaped eyebrows were set above long-lashed hazel eyes. Her nose followed the classic Roman line, and her mulberry-coloured lips were wide and generous. When she smiled they parted to reveal beautifully even, white teeth. Dean became even more interested.
"Natalie. Very pleased to meet you, Dean."
Introductions over, Natalie stood up to remove her jacket. The sleeveless tee she wore underneath revealed strong, muscular arms, along with a toned and sculptured torso. Clearly the woman worked out, her physique telling Dean she stuck to old-fashioned free weights, quite likely working herself hard most days of the week. It had paid off.
-o-
Out of nowhere, the memory of a certain Sergeant Bates and the compromising photos Kevin Tran had found of her flashed through his mind, followed closely by a mental image that made Dean shift in a kind of pleasant discomfort: himself, naked and vulnerable on a bed, lengths of silk binding his wrists and ankles to the bed posts, looking down at the top of Natalie's head while she got acquainted with Little Dean, at the same time threatening to punish Dean if he made a sound. Shoulders like that, I bet she can give one hell of a spanking. Not that he had a thing for that, but he was always up for new experiences, and he'd be lying if he said that he'd never conjured up some pretty kinky fantasies involving Sergeant Bates in the weeks after meeting her.
-o-
Tossing the jacket onto the bench seat, Natalie sat down again and looked at Dean in silence, her gaze roaming his face and upper body, much like he had just been doing to her. Feeling a little awkward, Dean cleared his throat before lifting his beer to his mouth, breaking Natalie's focus on his features. She smiled warmly.
"You're one helluva good-looking guy, Dean. I'm guessing you like to keep in shape?"
Dean smiled, imagining Sam snorting out a laugh at her comment.
"I get to work out now and then."
Natalie's smile widened, and she looked pleased.
"Good."
"Good?"
Natalie shrugged.
"I like guys who take care of themselves."
The Natalie in Dean's earlier fantasy was now clothed in a black leather corset and red leather thong. A black leather cap sat at a jaunty angle on her head and she was running the tip of a riding crop over his bare torso, ready to punish him if he was a bad boy. Dean shifted again, squirming a little, trying to unobtrusively adjust jeans which had become uncomfortably tight. When he spoke, there was a huskier, teasing tone to his voice.
"That's great, 'cause I like hot women in black leather, so...What should we do about it?"
Dean's smile grew a touch broader. He was now automatically following a familiar script; one that would generally end with them both going back to her place later that night.
-o-
Natalie began gathering up her jacket.
"Tonight? Nothin' honey. I'm out with a couple of friends, and I don't desert my friends, not even for a hot ticket like you. Tomorrow night, though, I'll be waiting right here."
Dean was caught by surprise. He wasn't used to being put on hold. He covered his surprise with a mischievous grin.
"Hey! I don't mind keeping all three of you company. Where's these friends of yours?"
Natalie nodded her head towards the furthest pool table.
"That's them, the two playing."
Dean turned and stared at the pair briefly before bringing his attention back to Natalie.
"I see...So, which one's Ugg an' which one's Thugg?"
-o-
Natalie's laugh was unrestrained, and one of the two neckless, steroid-induced, muscle-bound man-mountains that she called friends glanced in their direction, as though checking what was going off and who the woman was with. Natalie waved him back to the game.
"No fair! They're a couple of real sweethearts, once you get to know them. Honest. Jethro, the one on the right? He's got a brilliant sense of humour, has me in stitches. And Jonah? Jethro's cousin? He writes the most awesome poetry."
Dean gave Natalie a quizzical look.
"You're kiddin' me...Right?"
Natalie winked.
"Let me guess. You've reconsidered your offer to keep the three of us company now, huh?"
"I'm happy to give it a miss."
Reaching across the table, Natalie snagged one of Dean's chasers and tossed it down in one before getting to her feet.
"I'll be here alone tomorrow night. Won't say no if anybody wants to keep me company though. Nice talking to you, Dean."
"Yeah, you too...I'll be dropping in again tomorrow. Sounds like we might bump into one another?"
The woman grinned, looking pleased.
"Highly probable I would say. Ciao, Gorgeous."
-o-
Viewing the night ahead as more than promising, Dean kept his look carefully casual, put together to show himself off, without seeming to have given it much thought; aiming for hot, not desperate. Gone was the frequently worn plaid over-shirt. Instead, over his freshly laundered white tee he donned a charcoal grey fine silk shirt which he wore open. The light blue denims he chose had none of the rips or stains of his every day denims. He had even cleaned his boots of dried on graveyard mud. Staring inside his wardrobe, Dean finally grabbed two jackets then headed out of his room and down to the library in search of his brother.
-o-
"Sammy? You in here?"
"Yeah. Whassup?"
Dean planted himself in front of Sam.
"Which do you think? This one?...Or this one?"
And there it was again, that strange knot in Sam's gut, but now he could almost taste it, the wrongness. Ignoring the two jackets Dean was holding up for his inspection, Sam stared into his older brother's eyes, his own pleading with the older hunter.
"Really Dean, I...
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Dean lowered the jackets, butting in before Sam could finish his sentence.
" I what, Sam? Have you suddenly started having visions again? Just tell me if you have; at least then I'll understand why you're so against me goin' to meet up with Natalie.
Lowering his gaze, Sam shook his head.
"No. There's been no vision. I wish there had been...All I can tell you is I've got that gut feeling again, even stronger this time. Dean, I'm certain this' some sort of warnin'. I'm serious about this. I think if you go tonight, you could end up walking into some real trouble."
"Or it could be something you ate. Look Sammy, every time one of us sticks our head out the bunker door we could be walking into trouble. Fact is, there's a gorgeous woman gonna be waiting in the bar and it's my turn to buy the drinks. We'll probably stick around for another couple before we leave and move on to having some good old-fashioned consenting adult fun. It's been too long, Sammy. Little Dean's beginning to think I've taken a vow of celibacy. You might get some weird kick outta being a nun, but me? I'm sick'a being a lonely goat herd. You get me?"
Sam carded the fingers of one hand through his hair and nodded, throwing Dean a half smile
"Bizarrely, yes, I get it. Fine. Go let little Dean out to play...Crap! Did I just say that? Gross! What I mean is, go. Just watch your back and stay alert. And if there's even a hint of something maybe not being right? Promise me you'll get out fast. Agreed?"
Dean grinned.
"You know I will little brother. But trust me, nothing's gonna happen without consent."
"Alright then. And I'd go for the grey suit style jacket rather than dad's old leather. The colour sits better with everything else you're wearing, and it kinda makes you stand out more."
Slipping his arms into the hip length jacket, Dean looked down at himself.
"You mean this one makes me look hotter?"
"Your words, not mine. Now get outta here. Text me later to let me know everything's cool, ok?"
Dean gave his brother a wink.
"Yes, Mother Superior."
-oOo-
Chick xxx