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Dean slid onto the barstool, flashing the girl one seat over an easy smile and a quiet, passing "Hey" as he flagged down the bartender.

"Whiskey." He said, nodding to the lowest shelf on the wall behind the bar.

He caught the glass as it slid across the bar with a nod of thanks and bent over his drink, letting the prospect of an impending buzz relax the tight muscles in his back and shoulders.

He could feel her eyes on his back but he didn't look at her, already enjoying the game he had started. He'd wait a little longer to see what kinda girl she was. If she was bold and brash she'd be confronting him, asking why he didn't talk just to her already. If she was quiet and shy or maybe wanted to be chased, he'd have to wait a little longer until she almost thought he wasn't interested before he could turn and smile again.

So he would sip his drink and bid his time, sneaking glances to study her a little and speculate on what kind of girl she might be, thinking about things she might want to talk about and the things they could do together if Dean could get her talking.

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Sam thought it was just about sex.

And it was.

But not just about sex.

Unlike Sam and Dad, Dean actually liked people. He liked the guys he played pool with, the bartenders he gossiped with, even the girls who turned him down. He liked hearing all their stories, the things they liked and didn't, the things that made them people. He was interested in them, all of them. Granted he'd listen to a pretty girl talk a lot longer than some grizzly bearded dude, but he still found them both interesting.

For one thing, it was a nice break. A break from thinking about the evil in the world and the endless string of monsters out there waiting. It was nice to talk about mundane shit like sports teams and bad breakups. And it was a freaking relief to talk to someone who didn't NEED anything from him. With Dad, his brothers…they always needed something. Needed to be taken care of. Needed help with something. In the bars, Dean was free.

He knew he had natural charisma and he knew his looks didn't hurt either. It wasn't hard to get people to talk to him, a fact that he exploited regularly when he was working. But Dean liked to think that when he was off the clock, people were talking to him cause they wanted to, not because he manipulated them into it.

And then there were the girls.

Dean thought he might never be able to get enough of girls. He loved when they looked at him, when they smiled at him, when he could get them to giggle. He loved touching them, feeling the softness of their hands, the smoothness of their hair. He loved how the smelled, all fresh and floral, nothing at all like the motor oil and whiskey he knew he smelt of. He loved to talk to them, to hear what they thought about the town, the weather, the news...any old shit really. Something about girls. He craved them, their comfort, their softness, the way they could surprise him and turn wild when they wanted to.

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He glanced beside him, watching her absentmindedly tear apart the paper napkin from under her beer.

"You wanna work on mine next?" he asked, sliding his napkin out from under his drink.

"Huh?" she said, startled and confused.

He nodded down to the bar top and slid the napkin toward her, "You're running out of paper there,"

She gave him a tight polite smile, one that Dean read instantly as 'you scare me man alone in a bar'. So he just gave a small smile in return and turned back to his whiskey glass. He wasn't gonna give up on her, not yet, but he also wasn't gonna go after a girl who was scared of him. Dean didn't need to study her anymore to know it was probably her first time in a bar alone. She was fidgeting on the barstool, looking like she was waiting for someone, but getting more and more impatient. She was young, at least his age, maybe younger but not young enough that he was worried. He had time to wait for her if she wanted to talk to him (and he hoped she did want to talk to him). It was early in the night so there was plenty of time to get to know her or scope out the bar for another playmate.

A few minutes passed, Dean studied his drink and the other patrons of the bar, considering starting a pool game or a round of buck hunter.

"Are you new in town?"

Dean smiled to himself in triumph before wiping the stupid grin off his face and turning slightly to look at her.

"Yeah actually," he said, "You from around here?"

"Yeah," she said nodding.

"You like it?" he asked, genuinely curious to see if she liked the small town they had parked it in this week.

"It's ok I guess," she said with a shrug.

"Just ok huh? You're not much on small-town life?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"No, it's fine, but I wouldn't mind trying somewhere else for a while. Just don't have a reason to leave yet,"

"You need a reason to leave?" he asked in surprise, "Why not just go?"

She was fully turned on her stool to face him now and he turned more toward her, opening himself up to the conversation.

"Just go?" she asked, "You could do that? Just up and leave?"

Dean considered a moment before replying, "Sometimes I'd like to."

"I'm Holly," she said.

"Dean."

Conversation between them was easy, Dean made sure of it. He let her lead, listening to her cues, mixing flirting in with his normal relaxed banter. This was where he shined. Where he felt the most at home and comfortable in his own skin. As minutes turned into hours chitchat turned into flirtatious teasing and melted into playful seduction.

The night was winding down, Dean could feel it and knew she could too. Early in their conversation, she'd said she was waiting on friends and if that was true (which Dean knew it wasn't) they never showed. Dean was ready to get out of the bar, preferably with her on his arm, but he wouldn't push the issue- only offer the idea and let her lead the way.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asked smoothly.

She studied him for a moment then licked her lips just a little, making all the blood in Dean's body head south, and the answered, "Yeah, definitely. Maybe we could go watch a movie at my place,"

He stood up, dropping cash on the bar and waving at the bartender, before grabbing her hand. She slid off her barstool easily, holding his hand, wrapping her other around his bicep, making him flex unintentionally.

Dean nodded and smiled widely at her, "Yeah… love movies."

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