Dean tried to be nice about it. He really did.
But when the amply-bosomed redhead plopped herself onto his lap for the third time since he'd walked into the bar, he stood up and she fell on her ass.
"Sorry!" Smiling, Dean held out a hand. "But I told you, I don't swing your way."
"Oops!" She accepted his hand and scrambled to her feet, swaying drunkenly. "Didn't realize you were gay."
"I'm not." Dean nodded to the tall, dark hunk striding toward them, a bottle of beer in each hand and a pissed-off expression on his face.
"I'm Sammy-centric."