Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. It would be fun if I did….
Daddy's Little Girl
Dean needed to relax. Sam was at the library studying as usual. Dean found this hole in the wall bar and was now bellied up to the bar. He swirled around on bar stool to face a small room filled mostly with locals. He was lazily looking about the room waiting on the bartender when he spotted her.
She was about his age with long blond hair pulled back into a bun. She was bent over a table wiping it down. Her perfect butt wiggled in the perfect, snug fit jeans. The jeans were a bit worn on the pickets, but they fit her well. She had a form-fitting pink t-shirt which she tugged down to cover her lower back as she stood-up. She quickly and silently moved to the next table and mechanically began wiping it down.
"What can I get you?" A gruff voice from behind brought Dean out of his daydream.
"How about the 411 on her?" Dean reluctantly turned toward the bar with a boyish grin on his face.
"You're not her type. What'cha want to drink?" The bartender's voice matched his gruff appearance. He was in his late 30's with dark messy, dirty blonde hair. He had a permanent five o'clock shadow. He's eyes had a hint of yellow, the tall tail sign of a life with a bit too much drinking.
"How'd cha know I'm not her type? She's certainly my type." He watched her out of the corner of his eyes.
"Either order a drink or leave my bar. I don't care which." The bartender's eyes severely narrowed almost urging Dean to make the wrong choice.
"Ok. Don't get the panties in a bunch. I'll take a Miller." Dean didn't take his eyes off the girl. After taking his first drink, he mumbled. "I could be her type." Dean didn't realize the bartender was within hearing distance.
"You're not. You guys come into town and try to take our woman. She's smart. Got a full scholarship to the university. She doesn't need a lazy gypsy screwing up her life."
Dean reminded himself he didn't need trouble. John would be beyond angry. After the problems at the last town, Dean wasn't convinced he wouldn't be killed if there was trouble. Dean took a deep breath and excused himself from the bar to find a dark corner table.
Unfortunately, the dark corner table happened to be one of the blonde's. The two ended up chatting all night under the glaring looks from the hulking bartender. Several hours and beers later, Rachel whispered, "I'm off work now. Would you like to get out of here?" She taken off the white bar apron and was completely irresistible to an intoxicated Dean.
Back at the hotel…..
Dean hadn't had to work too hard to convince Rachel to get better acquainted. Dean suspected it had something to do with the bartender, but he wasn't one to ask questions when he was about to get laid.
The two were topless and Dean was kissing her stomach right above the low cut jeans when there was a sudden commotion outside the door. Sam's grunting could be heard through the paper thin walls. Dean immediately jumped up.
"Sammy!" he grabbed the gun from the bedside table and rushed to the door. Dean threw the door open. By this time, Sam had wrestled the bartender to ground. He was struggling to keep the bulking man on the ground. A shotgun was discarded a few feet from where the two struggled. "What the hell?"
"Daddy?" Rachel was horrified.