SHARP DRESSED MAN
WOW: smooth. Dean has a secret weapon for tonight's date... or maybe not.
Disclaimer: I don't own him.
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Dean stood in front of the mirror in his room and smoothed down the crisp dark blue striped button-down he was wearing. He'd just bought it that morning for tonight's date at the new fancy restaurant in town and it was perfect. It had looked great on the mannequin, but it looked freaking awesome on him. It emphasised his broad shoulders and clung tight in all the right places.
His date was in for a treat tonight!
Dean strode purposefully through the bunker casting a cursory glance toward Sam. "Don't wait up," he announced with a smug grin and a suggestive eyebrow waggle as he gathered up his wallet and car keys; "could be a late one. Hopefully!"
So, given Dean's apparent eagerness at the beginning of the night, Sam was somewhat surprised when the bunker's main door opened barely an hour later, and Dean slunk glumly down the stairs.
"What happened to 'don't wait up?'" Sam asked curiously.
"Yeah, well," Dean snorted; "apparently there's no need to wait up when the tablecloths are made of the same material as your shirt and your date laughs so hard she chokes on her soup."
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end