Heartstrings
The dark lines swirled up and down, some came closer and other appeared to stretch out. They were almost black, it blended nicely with the dark red wood around it. Mahogany? Maple? Sam would know. Dean traces a grain line up to his chest then back down to his Corona bottle
"Sir?" Dean looks up surprised by the voice. Cas? "Can I get you another? Or maybe one when I'm off my shift?" He feels as though his head and eyes are being weighed down as he looks up towards the unfamiliar voice. A pretty waiter is bending at the waist staring expectantly at Dean.
"Another." Dean tips his bottle and gives a smirk towards the table.
"Before or after my shift?" The waiter smiles slowly, teeth straiter than, Garth, maybe. Why was Dean here, for the alcohol or to get laid? Maybe it was to drink until he forgot, if that was his motive then he had achieved his objective. His eyes travel from the waiter's ankles to his collar bone, was it just him or was this man desperate? Black leather tights and a white cotton pull over would never get this flamer a partner. Cory stands tall again and taps his pen impatiently, his name tag jiggles with each movement.
"I'm drunk as a confused skunk listening to U2." Dean slurs quietly and turns back to stare at the continuous lines in the wooden table.
"Yes you are, now are you or aren't you going to have another drink?" The waiter stops tapping and leans on one leg, his hip rising higher than the other. 'He's like an eight year old girl having a tantrum.'
"I don't want another and I'm not interested so stop waving your bony hips in my face." Dean looks up angrily and dismisses the waiter. Without a word the waiter leaves with a huff, Dean cannot help himself as he stares at the leathery black ass. "Dick." Dean sighs and finishes his beer.
"He's gone you piss ant, stop sulking and move on." Crowley whispers softly.
"What do you want?" Dean's eyes travel across the table with a dull look.
"Next to your alcoholic soul? Nothing really." With a smug smile Crowley leans back in the booth and waves a different waiter over. "Scotch, please." He stares Dean down as he settles into the green corner booth.
"I think you better move on." Dean sneers and lays his Taurus down on his knee under the table. The bullets wouldn't do anything to Crowley physically, but it would give Dean time to escape back to his cabin, as long as he didn't get caught.
"I have a couple of questions first. Thank you." The waiter gives a polite nod and leaves.
"No I don't know where he is. No I don't know where Sam is. No I don't give a rat's low life ass if you want to settle a deal with me." He sighs and pushes the empty bottle away, perhaps another drink would make Crowley disappear.
"What a shame. Really it makes me," the king of hell pauses to watch Dean steam. "sad."
"You better leave before I put a bullet in your knee, or higher." Dean looks up as he cocks his weapon, his jaw is locked with confidence, but his eyes hang heavy with heartache.
"Oh stop it! You're making my meatsuit gooey. That was something Meg said, wasn't it?" With a sick smile Crowley downs his drink. "Lead won't do anything, but cause damage and a fine on your pretty head." He pulls the red napkin out from under the empty scotch glass and scribbles on it with a sharpie. Dean watches in mild anticipation, he mustn't let Crowley see how upset he is. "Here, squirrel. I think this should give your mind something to chew after instead of itself." With that, he was gone and only the napkin remained.
Dean curiously leans over as he holsters his gun. "'1315 East Madison street in Seattle Washington', why the hell did he give me this? I'm not working jobs anymore and I won't be starting again, son of a bitch." He looks up at the ceiling hoping Crowley will here him. He slowly stands and throws a couple bills onto the table then fishes his keys out of his jacket pocket. "I guess I have to go to the library or a coffee house and run this address. Such a bore, I could just ignore it and-"
Contact to his right shoulder rises old habits when his right hand rises to his gun immediately. 'Twice in one day, dammit.' He turns to see another smiling face, obviously more sober than himself. The first reaction Dean has is to blow this guy off, but this man has green eyes and a little more than a five o' clock shadow.
"Whoa there partner." Damn, his voice is just as hot as he is.
A moment of mental recovery allows Dean just enough time to realize that the man has one hell of a thick boner. "Hi." Dean's mouth curves up into a small smile and his voice wheezes into a tight whisper. 'Get a hold of yourself', Dean cursesquietly.
"You don't look too fit to be driving home by yourself." The stranger replied in a husky voice; although his smile is nice, he has a touch of yellow from previous Starbucks trips. Otherwise, this man is quite handsome.
"No, I guess I'm not, fit." He clears his throat and tries again. "What's you're name?" Dean noticed the man was rocking himself gently, was he nervous? Pansy, Dean thought to himself.
"Jeremy, and yourself?" Jeremy pushes his hand through the space that separates himself and Dean.
It took several seconds for Dean to decide whether or not he should lie, "The name's Mike." old habits die hard apparently. He shakes hands then wraps an arm around Jeremy's shoulders.
"I should take you home." Jeremy whispers and puts his hand on Dean's ass. A tight squeeze gets a rise from the pants and a grunt from the lips.
"Sound's good to me, partner." Dean chuckles stupidly and walks towards the door. Is this the right thing to do?