Morning After Regrets
a/n Random oneshot based in my Winchester, Smith & Wesson 'verse.
"Uuuuuugh." Dean buried his head further into his pillow. What the hell had he been drinking? Paint stripper?
For that matter, why the hell couldn't he remember last night?
A similar groan came from beneath the covers beside Dean. For a moment he considered grinning, thinking he must've brought someone back to the motel to play fun and games. Then he realized that his baby brother was tangled in the sheets, and half-off the bed on Dean's right, and Gabrielle Wesson huddled under the blankets on his left, an enormous, razor sharp knife clutched tightly in her hand.
For the first time in his life, Dean prayed he hadn't gotten lucky. 'Cause if he had- It didn't bear thinking about. Suffice it to say it would involve a buttload of pain and loss of bits.
Though his head was throbbing like Metallica was playing a live concert behind his skull, he knew he had to get his ass out of the bed before a seriously pissed off and hungover Gabs woke up.
Stumbling into the motel bathroom, he turned on the sink and splashed cold water on his face. As he rubbed at the stubble on his chin, his gaze caught on his reflection.
"What the hell?"
Leaning closer to the mirror, he stared in shock at the odd symbol inked in his skin, on the left side of his abdomen.
"WHAT THE HELL?"
The twin moans from the other room suggested he'd woken up Gabs and Sammy, but Dean didn't give a good goddamn.
Hands gripping the counter, glaring sightlessly down at the sink, he wracked his brain. What the hell had happened last night?
Bits and pieces of hazy memories came back. Him, Sammy, Gabs and that crazy, tiny blonde Lizzy out on the town. There'd been drinking. Heavy drinking. Everyone had felt like they deserved it after taking down six werewolves in two days. The alcohol had been flowing like water.
At some point, Sam and Dean had lost all their cash to Gabs in a drunken game of darts.
There was dancing and flirting and hustling pool. Drag racing, karaoke, a random fight that got them kicked out of the fourth bar.
Dean wanted to slam his head into the wall when one specific memory surfaced.
"Com'mmmon, guyz!" Lizzy cajoled, eyes wide and innocent, barely staggering. "It'z not like it'z yer firs' time!"
Gabrielle had tilted her head to the left, and almost fallen when her body tried to follow. "Won' it hurt?"
Dean caught Gabs, until Sam stumbled into them, and they all clung to each other to stay on their feet.
"Buh whah would we get?" Sam slurred.
"Dohn even worry, boyoz! I know ezacly what everrryone should get!"
Dean and Gabs exchanged an attempt at a thoughtful look, then shrugged, hands still grasping at each other as they tried to maintain their balance.
"Oh... oh... Shit, whaz thah word? Okey?" Dean had mumbled, trying to remember the right phrase.
"Absholutahllleeeeey!" Gabs announced.
One fake credit card and a sleezy tattoo parlour later...
Dean stared at the mark that had been needled and died into his flash.
"Damn you, Lizzy."
It was the goddamn, mathematical symbol for Pi.
Liz must have been laughing her ass off. The tail-end of her reasoning from the previous night sounded in his ears. "You love pie, right?" "Yeah." "And it's Pi! No one elze'd geddit but'chyou!"
In comparison, if he remembered correctly, Liz had walked away with a single, tiny dolphin on her ankle.
Then the angry yells errupted from the other room, and the tattoos his little brother and the dark, female hunter had gotten flashed through his mind.
Sam had ended up with a sad looking, Labrador puppy on his bicep.
And Gabs... She had ended up with the phrase ~I LOVE WINCHESTERS~ across her back, between her shoulders.
That was the memory that sent Dean spinning around to slam and lock the bathroom door.
Because when Gabrielle realized what had been permanently etched in her skin, someone was going to die. And Dean would really prefer it not be him.
teh end!