The Keg
There was something to be said about the large amount of people who considered leather to be a good clothing choice. And that thing was 'Eww'. It wasn't especially warm, and the durability was greatly exaggerated. But for bikers, there was nothing like it.
Sam and Dean were fresh off a fairly disappointing hunt involving several missing persons. It turned out to not be anything supernatural at all, just run of the mill human crazy. The Winchesters weren't in the killing people business, but when you find yourself in some sort of hillbilly version of The Most Dangerous Game, and you get your ass beat by the inbred twins, you might change your mind. Somehow Dean ended up the worse for wear even though Sam got locked in a cage.
It was never fun to be reminded that humans could be monsters too. It was easier to deal with demons or any of their regularly scheduled creatures. So they were here in this generic small town biker bar drinking away their new aches and pains while Sam looked for a new job. His fingers clicked over the keyboard of his laptop and he made pinched faces as he scrolled.
Dean had happily filled the jukebox with all the quarters he could find, including a fist full pilfered from his brother. It played classic rock song after classic rock song. Zeppelin followed ACDC followed Floyd. He was drumming his fingers across the bar, peeling the label off his beer, and just burning up nervous energy and adrenaline after the hunt.
The bikers were receptive to the music. They nodded appreciatively while sipping beers, did little hip shaking moves while shooting pool, grabbed their partners for quick kisses. Everything was underlaid by a thrumming rock beat and the thundering of motorcycle engines.
The butterfly bandage on Dean's temple was itchy and annoying, but he couldn't mess with it without Sam nagging him. And Sam himself didn't have a scratch on him. He just sat across the table from Dean, perfectly fine, writing notes on some scrap paper he shoved in dad's journal. Lucky bastard.
They stayed for a long time, not really talking, nursing the same beers. Tomorrow they would look for a new gig. Maybe they could even sleep in and heal up a little bit. The lights were coming on and people were gulping last orders and getting up to leave. Sam and Dean leave a decent tip for the tired woman working behind the bar, collect their things, and leave. After all, they have a job to do.