'You've got the luck of the Irish, son,' the grizzled trucker groused. 'Or maybe those green eyes have a touch of the leprechaun in them. Today's Saint Patrick's Day after all, and mysterious events are rife.'
With a rakish grin, Dean pocketed the cash from the table.
'No leprechauns,' he rebutted. 'Just years of shooting pool. But I will concede I've got a lucky charm and he's sitting right over there. As long as he's around, I can't lose!'
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He nodded towards Sam, parked at a nearby table, his head in a book, an untouched beer by his side.
'I'm thinking the brother luck's reciprocal, Dean Winchester,' the trucker winked, his voice morphing into a thick Irish brogue.
Dean's eyes narrowed to two hostile slits. 'How do you know my name?'
'As it's Saint Patrick's Day, we like to mingle, sparkle a little bit of luck around you humans…. As for you, Winchester, maybe one day you'll come across a crock of gold….. though I'm not talking about vulgar coins.'
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With that the trucker disappeared, leaving Dean to glare after him, uneasy. The last time they'd crossed paths with a leprechaun and his horde of elves and fairies, things had been complicated, to say the least!
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Sauntering over to Sam, he shook his head in disbelief. 'Think I just beat a Leprechaun at pool, Sammy.'
'What? Where? A leprechaun! Dude!' Sam looked around the room in alarm.
'It's okay. He's gone, seems he was out spreading a 'little good luck.' Dean yanked out the wad of cash and waved it in front of Sam's eyes. 'What d'you say we celebrate Saint Patrick's Day by getting drunk on some Guinness? This is an Irish pub after all.'
'Not too drunk,' Sam warned. 'We gotta drive home after!'
'Dude, your awesome big brother can drive even when he's sloshed out max,' Dean grinned, slipping an arm around Sam's shoulders and directing him toward the bar.
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Many thanks to all who reviewed my last drabble- and Happy Saint Patrick's Day. :)