Dean sat at the bar. He had already downed a couple of shots of vodka when someone sat down next to him.
Without looking, he said, "the seats taken", glancing up at the bartender. She looked at the stranger next to Dean sympathetically, "Don't feel bad, he doesn't let anyone sit there."
"My apologies," said the other man, getting up. Dean inhaled sharply.
"Wait," he turned towards the other man, almost fearfully. " He's not gonna show anyway, so you might as well stay." Dean implored, and finally looked at the other man, paling as he saw the man's bright blue eyes.
He coughed, almost in surprise. The other man looked concerned. Dean's stomach dropped. He sighed, and asked for 2 shots of vodka, handing one to the other guy.
"So, what's your name?" Dean asked casually.
"My name is Jimmy," the other man replied.
Dean then grabbed his vodka and polished it off.
He put his hand out, "Hey... Jimmy, I'm Dean. " Shaking Jimmy's hand, he asked "I had a friend who knew a Jimmy... what's your last name?"
Jimmy smiled at him, "Novak. Jimmy Novak."
Dean's hand clenched around the empty glass, but Jimmy didn't notice. Instead, Jimmy glanced down at his seat and asked, "So, why me?"
Dean looked away from his glass, "I'm sorry, what?
"You have been sitting by yourself all this time, waiting for someone… Why did you give up on waiting for him?"
Dean ordered another shot… It was seeming to be one of those nights. Dean thought for a moment, and after knocking back the shot, he answered. "Well… I just decided that he was never going to come. I'd fooled myself into thinking he'd come back, but he's not…" He stood up abruptly, "I'll be right back, I've just gotta go and smoke." Dean walked out of the bar, towards the Impala. Ever since it happened he picked up smoking as a habit to deal with the stress. But if Sammy ever found out…
Holding the pack in one hand, he smacked it against the palm of his other hand a few times and pulled a cigarette out, running his hand through his hair. Dean took a deep breath, and lit the cigarette, shaking slightly as he brought it to his lips.
A few moments later , he heard footsteps on the gravel, and turned around as he heard a voice, "I'm sorry, Dean."
"What for?", he wondered.
"Well, I seemed to have struck a nerve back there." Jimmy replied, apologetically.
Dean was quiet for a minute. He looked at the mans' outfit, he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was a bit disappointed to see Jimmy wearing a navy blue suit, with a patterned tie, knotted neatly all the way up to the collar.
Dean gave Jimmy a small smile, "It's alright, you didn't know."
"Was he.. did you love this man you were waiting for?" Jimmy asked.
Dean accidentally inhaled the smoke, in surprise, and started coughing.
Eyes watering from the intensity of the coughs, Dean lifted his head up after getting it out of his system. "No! No, he was just a friend." Dean explained.
"Oh, " Jimmy said, awkwardly, "Sorry, I just assumed.."
Dean shook his head, "Nah man, don't worry about it." and glanced at his watch. It was almost midnight. He'd been nursing a beer for a while before hitting the vodka, which was a short time before Jimmy arrived. He stood up straight, and threw down his cigarette, stamping it out.
"It was nice meeting you…" as Dean made eye contact, he almost called him by a different name, "...Jimmy", he glanced up at the stars and prayed Cas, please... You have to come back, it was futile, no one was listening, but he attempted anyway. "Anyway… I should go," Dean opened the driver side door of the Impala, but Jimmy slammed it shut, giving him a stormy look and said, angrily, "What do you think you're doing." Dean was hopeful. Was it possible that something had changed? Dean couldn't imagine that praying would do anything now, when it hadn't helped in the past.
"You're drunk! I'm taking you home." Jimmy said, angrily. Dean's heart wrenched. His prayers were worth jack shit. Jimmy was just being nice. Dean walked past Jimmy and got in the backseat, tossing the keys to his Baby at Jimmy. "Just take care of her,' He said, wearily.
Jimmy snorted, and got in. Starting the car, he adjusted the seat a little, and started driving after Dean gave him directions.
Half an hour later, Jimmy pulled into a parking lot at an apartment complex and examined the buildings. They were a little shabby, but not too bad, which made him feel better about leaving Dean here. It didn't look like there were any thugs for Dean to get into a fight with.
He shut off the car and took the keys out of the ignition. Getting out, he pocketed the keys and looked at Dean, asleep in the backseat. Opening the door, he grabbed Dean under the armpits, noticing for the first time how in shape Dean was. Pulling , ( but more like dragging because, damn, Dean weighed a ton,) Dean out the car and leaned him against the car, holding him up, and shook Dean. "Hey, Dean… Buddy, it's time to wake up." Dean groaned groggily and Jimmy shook him again. Dean opened his eyes, "Oh, yeah…" and leaned against Jimmy, the alcohol and sleep combined, making him clumsy and unstable. Jimmy got the room number from Dean and walked him, slowly, towards the apartments, praying that he was on the first floor.
Once they made it to Dean's door, (luckily on the first floor) Jimmy rooted through Dean's pocket, who remarked "People might talk". JImmy rolled his eyes at that and found the key to Dean's apartment, and pulled it out, triumphantly, and unlocked the door, stepping in.
He looked around for the bedroom, and "dragged" Dean towards the only room that could be a bedroom. Dean was slowly regaining his ability to think and straightened up, "No!" he pleaded, a bit slurred. "Just… just get me a coffee… I'd rather you didn't… go into my room…"
Dean braced himself against the wall, and gave Jimmy a look that made him sigh and head towards the kitchen. He set up the pot and started brewing. Jimmy looked back towards Dean, but he was in his room with the door shut. Noting the mess that Dean called a kitchen, Jimmy started cleaning up a bit while the coffee brewed. He put the dishes that were, frankly, a bit disgusting, in the dishwasher and starting it. He began throwing away trash, paper plates, pizza boxes, milk cartons, the like. When the coffee was done, he poured it into a mug and hoped Dean liked it black. Jimmy stood outside of Dean's room and listened for any sounds. Not hearing anything, he knocked. Dean opened the door slightly and reached his hand out for the mug. Jimmy, understandably confused, handed it to him. Dean placed it on a desk next to the door and started closing the door.
He hesitated and, from behind the door, said, "Thank you, Jimmy. Although I believe I wont be in need of your assistance anymore."
Jimmy, upon hearing Dean's tone of voice at the end, backed up slightly. There was despair, mixed with a biting anger, which Jimmy didn't understand. "Of course," he said, a bit frostily, "I'll be going then.". True to his word, Jimmy left, well aware that it was late and he would have to walk back to the bar, deciding that he needed to think and driving would distract him at the moment.
Dean watched Jimmy walk away through the window, feeling vaguely creepy. He turned and punched the wall repeatedly. Of course, he wasn't as drunk as he let Jimmy believe, although he really had been tired. His liver had taken a beating lately, so he could handle a few shots of vodka. After drinking his coffee and bandaging up his knuckles, Dean layed down in bed, his eyes stinging. Those blue eyes were haunting him. As Dean fell asleep, he dreaded what he would dream tonight.