"What?!"

The look on Sam's face was that of the utmost incredulousness.

"Yeah, I know, right?" Dean scoffed, rolling his shoulders, "Can you believe her?"

"Yeah, you know, actually I can. Dean, you are not in love with Lory."

Dean frowned for a second, fixing his mouth for a defense before he just let it go. He shook his head.

"You just don't get it, Sam."

"No, Dean, you don't get it! I've been in love before, and it doesn't happen like that!"

"Well, last time I checked, you and me weren't the same person!"

"What are you two bickering about now?" said the subject of the conversation as she sauntered out of the front door.

Dean simply eyed her.

"Nothing."

Following her soon after was Bobby, his cast arm slung to his chest.

"Ya'll know if you need some money, you can just ask."

The eldest Winchester offered devious smirk.

"Now where's the fun in that? We'll be back before too long."

"Ooh, where are you two going?" Lory asked with more genuine interest than most people show in anything their entire lives.

"To play pool," Sam answered flatly.

She cocked her head to the side and her gaze shifted between the boys. From her look, Sam knew the answer to the following question:

"Come with?"

But, Dean responded in her stead, "No."

Sam looked at his brother irritably. Sometimes his need to be contrary drove Sam up the wall. However, this was not a case of the antagonist bug. Dean would have been smiling if it was.

"Why not?" she inquired, giving him the benefit of the doubt and curbing indignity for the time being.

"Yeah, why not?" echoed Sam, as though daring him to find a valid reason, " I don't see any harm."

"Too dangerous," he grunted with a tone of finality. "Lory, you stay here with Bobby. We won't be too long. I promise."

"Dangerous?" scoffed Sam, "Dean, we hunt monsters."

"Yeah, and we're grown men. Lory's just a girl."

Okay, now she was indignant.

"You know, I can take care of myself, Dean," she nodded, her eyes narrowing at him.

"We've seen this," added Sam, "on numerous occasions."

Ignoring his brother's existence, Dean kept his eyes on hers, speaking as gently as he could, "I'm sure you can, sweetheart, but not against three-hundred-pound bikers and truckers."

But gentleness came across as patronization. Her jaw tightened.

"I think I will tag along, Sam," but her eyes were locked with Dean's, "Thank you."

Before he could emit another word, she hopped into the back seat and closed the door contently.

"You're a dick," Dean hissed to Sam, "You know that, right? All you had to do was agree."

"I did agree," smirked Sam as his brother made his way to the driver's side, "With her."

"See, Lory?" Dean began with a sweeping gesture, as if proving some profound point. "Nothing to see."

Her eyes traveling the same path as his waving hand, she nodded. The seedy little establishment with its dim lighting and "Cheers-Meets-Harley" décor met her expectations completely. She knew that there was nothing to see- save for the look of annoyance on Dean's face.

He thought that declaring his pseudo-love for her in the front seat of the Impala and sucking on her face made her his- his bitch. Actually, he didn't feel that way at all, but it seemed that way, and Lory resented it.

Dean had been right about one thing, though. It was full of large, shady-looking characters. And a few scraggly, but just as sketchy individuals. The concept was far more amusing than the venue itself. She was two seconds into the building and already feeling the pangs of boredom.

"Come on," Sam offered, holding her upper arm gently, "I'll get you a soda."

"I got it," Dean grunted, clamping a forceful hand on her wrist, "You find us someone to play. Make sure they don't have a gun this time." He turned to her. "Come on."

Happy that he won that round, he dragged her behind him and sat her at the bar before nodding to the bartender, "Two brews and a ginger ale."

Lory blinked.

"I don't like ginger ale."

Dean looked at the glass before her.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"You didn't really give me a chance, did you?" she mused calmly.

"Well, then, Lory, what would you like?" he choked with a forced smile.

"I would like a coke, please and thank you."

"No problem."

But it was a problem. He figured if she thought he hated her, she would have drunk toilet water if he gave it to her. Since the other night, she knew she had the upper hand. She could extort him. She was testing him. But, of course, he was just as wrong as she had been earlier. She simply wanted a coke

"Here, you're all set," he smiled when the bartender replaced the glass, "Me and Sam are gonna be just over there-" he nodded to the line of green-felted tables "over there. Come over if you get bored. And don't leave your drink open. There are some creepers in here. And, uh, don't talk to strangers."

"Yes, Daddy," she sighed

"Mmm save that for when we get back."

By the time she had realized it, he had already planted the kiss on her cheek and was well on his way over to Sam, careful not to spill the beers.

"This is on me, even though you were being an asshat."

"Aw, you care. Thanks."

Sam was swaying and slurring even though he hadn't touched alcohol in at least two days. Dean just then noticed the two large, overtly sweaty men standing at the other end of the table.

"Guys, this is my partner, here," Sam nodded to Dean.

"Fellas," he nodded giddily, making himself look as green as possible.

"All right, let's put it down, gentleman."

Sam reached in his pocket and unrolled a few bills, then slapped them down on the table. The large gentlemen matched him.

"Sam!" Dean gasped in relatively convincing disdain, "That's gotta be three-hundred bucks! We're not-" bringing it down to a very audible hiss- "We're not even that good!"

"Well, it's too late, boys," sneered the shorter, red-haired one, "Once the money's down, you play or you pay. House rules."

"Trust me," Sam slurred, "I'm feeling lucky tonight!"

Sam and Dean's opponents were about as dumb as they looked. They hadn't caught onto the hustle even after it became apparent that they were getting their asses kicked by a supposed drunk and a supposed chicken. Dean had been fighting to restrain his laughter and smart-aleck comments and managed to stay in character the entire time. But then a distraction ensued.

"You got this, Sam," Dean declared absently. He was halfway across the room before Sam responded.

"What?"

The color gradient of his burning face seemed to correlate directly with the concentration of freckles. His most heavily spotted spots (his noise, just below his eyes) were red in a way that might indicate skin irritation, but the full of his cheek and forehead softened more into rose.

The dangerous glint of fire was flecked into the jade of his eyes as he death-stared the unhygienic-looking 40-something who was leaned intimately into conversation with Lory. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was engaging in conversation with himself at Lory (or her breasts), because she offered no more than a polite smile and nod every now and again. Ignoring the primal urge to thrash him then and there, Dean took the high (by his standards) road.

Leaning in behind her, his mouth stroking her ear as fully as his hands stroked her shoulders, he hissed, "Hey, baby, why don't you come be cheerlead for me and Sam over at the tables?"

The salt-and-pepper-haired 40-something sneered at Dean, "We were talking, son."

"Well, that sucks, because you're not anymore. Come on, Lory."

His frustration caused him to yank her from the chair more than assist her to rise.

"Actually, Dean, we're not done talking," she snapped out of pure spite, "Right, Eddie?"

"That's right," the man grinned toothlessly, before finishing, "Ernie."

"Lory, " Dean grunted, pulling at her arm.

"I believe the lady said she didn't want to go with you," challenged Ernie, who probably had an inch on Sam.

"I believe I wasn't talking to you, Jethro Bodine."

Dean puffed out his chest in that way that made Lory get that little floaty feeling in hers. A part of her kind of wanted to see him kick (or try to) this large man's ass in her honor. The girl who spent prom eating Chunky Monkey would have two men (one of which who was very attractive) fighting over her. It was like Christmas…in heaven.

"Boy, I will gut you like a fish," Ernie snarled, sealing his promise by spitting on the floor.

Dean's hand crept inside his jacket, flashing the handle of his piece. Then it stopped being fun.

"And I'll just put a dozen holes in you and we can be like an episode of 'Spongebob Squarepants'."

Ernie flashed him a look that was a combination of hatred and defeat before stalking off.

"You pulled out a gun!" Lory whispered.

"Chill. It's a salt gun. Was just gonna pistol-whip him a little bit-."

"Dean!"

"Oh , come on! Little Miss Innocent- yeah, right! That was not cool! I told you not to talk to strangers."

She exhaled in an attempt to keep her temper, "You don't own me, Dean. We're not even together."

"Yeah, I noticed!"

"That was just totally uncalled for. He wasn't doing any harm! I wasn't even listening to him!"

"I know! You were just trying to make me jealous, which is just sick-"

She laughed a little- akin to the way she laughed the night she almost took his head off.

"Oh, I'm sick?"

"I said that's sick."

"Dean, it's not my fault that you have anger issues."

"I DO NOT- I don't have anger issues, Lory," he insisted, "but you gotta admit, that was pretty fucked up what you did. Why would you do that?"

"To see if you cared. But I didn't expect you to react-"

"Lory, of course, I care! I told you that! But you didn't believe me, so you go and pull this? Did you get what you want, Lory? Is this what you wanted?!"

"People are staring at us, Dean," she mumbled timidly.

And they were. Like they half-expected him to Ike Turner her over the bar counter. His fists were clenched, he was panting- not to mention the fact that he was yelling at her. That wasn't who he wanted to be to her. That wouldn't prove anything.

"Lory, I don't want to fight with you.," he sighed, "We've been through too much… Wait here?"

She owed him that. She nodded and when he returned to her about twenty seconds later, a familiar piano intro was playing.

"I knew it was a good idea to save that quarter for something special," he grinned.

"'Open Arms'…Ahaha, Journey…" she smiled, "I love this song…."

"I know. You were singing it when we were listening to Sam's pussy- ballad CD." He sounded slightly proud of himself.

"You remembered."

"It was only two days ago, but whatever…" he trailed, rocking awkwardly on the balls of his feet, "So, uhm…"

"Yes," she smiled, "I would love to dance."

Wrapping his arms around her, swaying to the soft rhythm and the sound of Steve Perry's voice, Dean was the most comfortable he had been in a long time. The chub that he mocked weeks ago was the softest, most wonderful thing he had ever held onto.

She's like a teddy bear… a sexy teddy bear….With breasts…

People were looking at them, except neither Dean nor Lory noticed it. They were too busy noticing each other- the way they felt, smelled, the pace of their breathing. Lory hated the smell of beer, but on his slow, warm breath, it was almost sweet. And Lory and Sam had been sharing shampoo, but Dean thought it smelled so much better on her that it might as well have been a totally different brand.

"Journey never sounded so good," Dean breathed in her ear, inhaling the scent of her hair.

Life never felt so good…

"You're a surprisingly good dancer," she responded, smiling against the soft roughness of his cheek.

"I'm a man of many hidden talents…Maybe we can unhide them tonight…."

"I wouldn't count on it," she snickered.

"Can't blame a man for trying, beautiful…"

People were still watching them. Not only were they the only two people dancing, they were the only two people making out. And they were in the center of the floor. But they didn't notice any of them looking- not the bartender, smirking as he wiped glasses; not Ernie, watching sourly from the doorway; and not Sam, trying to blink away the burning in his face and eyes.

.