"Ohhhh," he replied, the Old Dean taking over at the thought of getting laid. "It would be my honor to assist you."
Max let out her breath, not knowing if she should be scared that she was actually doing this or excited that she was actually doing this! "Great!" she mustered all the enthusiasm she could to squelch her fears. Her practicality kicked in, "Do you have a car? I only ask because I walked here and didn't know if you'd just want directions, walk with me or me ride and navigate?"
Dean was appalled at the thought of leaving the Impala anywhere. "Why don't you ride and navigate?"
"Perfect," she responded with a little less enthusiasm. She was extremely nervous, although she wasn't fearful. He didn't give her any murdery feelings or anything and she was usually good at picking up on those things.
She grabbed the bottle of whiskey from his hand and headed to the register. "I'm buying," she insisted and Dean didn't stop her.
Outside the store, Dean led Max to where he had parked the Impala.
"Wow!" Max exclaimed. "That is a sweet car."
"Thanks," Dean smiled proudly. "Restored her myself," he told her as he opened the passenger side door.
"So you're good with your hands." She gave him a playful smile as she got into the car, placing the bag with the alcohol on the floorboard and wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans as she sat.
"I've been told." Dean closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.
Max quickly looked around the car. No signs of weapons, blood, body parts. It was near immaculate inside. She let out a loud breath before he slid into the driver's seat and they were on their way.
Her apartment was not far away, the ride only took a couple minutes, but it was a couple minutes of awkward silence. Both had questions they wanted to ask, but neither wanted to start. Dean, because he wasn't sure he wanted more information from what he planned to be a one night stand. Max because she was afraid her voice would fail her if she tried to say anything more than the directions.
The building was a little grungier than Dean expected. Based on her appearance and wine choice, he thought she would be living somewhere cleaner, brighter. Then again, this was Lebanon, Kansas. He had no doubt, though, that the inside of her apartment was bright and cheerful like her.
"I need to send a text, real quick," he told her as they got out of the car. "You go ahead, I'll just be a sec."
She nodded and started towards the stairs as he sent a quick text to Sam that he would be home late, if at all, and not to worry. He also sent the address where he was, because you just didn't know these days.
"So, why here?" Dean asked as he caught up to her on the stairs, his curiosity regarding what would bring anyone to this town finally getting the better of him.
"Well, my move was a quick one and this was the first thing I could find," she responded as she unlocked the door.
He let out a small laugh at her answer. "I meant, what brought you to Lebanon?"
She turned to look at him and grinned. "It's where the old gods and new gods come to parlay."
Dean raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Not a Neil Gaiman fan apparently…" she said, a little disappointed her joke didn't go over.
Dean still had a quizzical look on his face.
"It's from a book," she told him to dismiss the subject and then ushered him into her apartment.
Dean scanned the apartment. It was a wide-open space, a studio, with only two doors other than the front, that he guessed were the bathroom and a closet. There was a couch against one wall with a wooden coffee table in front of it. The kitchen was across the space from it, with a half-stove, cooktop and refrigerator. There were only a few cabinets and they were probably as bare as the rest of the apartment. It was still mostly boxes, but he could see a bed poking out from behind a screen just a few feet from the couch.
"I'm not finished decorating," she offered, not realizing how empty the place looked through someone else's eyes. This really was an impromptu invitation she hadn't fully thought out.
Dean just shrugged. Who was he to judge, really? He'd lived most of his life moving from motel to motel. The Bunker was the first real "home" he'd had since his mom died when he was four.
She walked over to the kitchen area and opened a cabinet that held a few glasses. "Wine or whiskey?" she asked.
"Whiskey, neat," he replied.
"I guess that was a dumb question. You don't really strike me as a wine type of guy."
She pulled out two tumblers from the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. "Couch?" she tilted her head in its direction.
"Right," he said under his breath, feeling almost at a loss being in this woman's apartment. Normally his trysts happened in hotel rooms.
He happened to make it to the couch before she did, being just a little bit closer. He sat towards the middle, wanting to make sure the coffee table was square in front of him to put his glass on. When she reached the couch, she set the glasses and bottle on the table before sitting down. She sat next to him, slightly facing him, and ensuring that their legs were touching. It was hard for her to remember all the things a woman was supposed to do in a seduction.
She poured four fingers in each glass and then handed one to him.
"Salud," she toasted, raising her glass.
"Salud," he responded, clinking his glass with hers and then they both downed the whiskey. Dean had to admit, he was pretty impressed with a woman who could shoot whiskey.
She set her glass down on the table and he followed suit. As he sat back, he put his hand on her thigh and gave her his award-winning smile that he saved for situations just like this. She returned his smile with one that she hoped showed confidence and desire. She could feel heat off of his hand and it sent a shiver down her spine.
It's now or never, she thought. Then she leaned in and pressed her lips against his.