That One Summer

“What’s your problem, dude?” Sam turned on his brother as soon as they had gotten into Dean’s 1967 Impala. “You were so rude to her!”

Dean Winchester ignored his brother, instead choosing to examine the small red handprint on his face in the rearview mirror. “Damn,” he rubbed his hand over the mark. “That girl hits hard!”

“Dean, I’m serious!” Sam turned the rearview mirror away from Dean. “Who says that to a girl? We are trying to make her feel welcome, she’s the new girl in town! Instead you insulted her! Treated her like one of your dirty one night stands.”

“Which is something she’s not gonna be after this,” Dean started the car up. “I mean, I like a rough girl, but she’s got some serious anger issues.”

“Dude, why are you being such a dick?” Sam was getting really angry now. “I mean, I know life hasn’t been kind to you since Dad died, but its been two years and-“

“Don’t you dare bring up Dad,” Dean cut him off with a glare. “We said we wouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, you said you wouldn’t talk about that,” Sam pointed out. “Mom and I have dealt with it, you obviously haven’t. And it’s leading you down this path of booze and random sex and being a complete asshat to absolutely everyone!”

“Shut up Sammy,” Dean growled, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I’m totally fine! I don’t need to be all girly and shit, talking about feelings and emotions and all that fucking crap. Now, can we please just leave? I’m tired.”

“Promise me you’ll apologize to December Rae tomorrow, and I’ll drop the subject,” Sam stated firmly.

Dean rolled his eyes. He loved his brother, but seriously, the dude did not give up.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll her I’m sorry. Now shut your cakehole and let me drive.”

***

Dean Winchester hadn’t always been an ass. Granted, he had always been little too mouthy for his own good, and had a stubborn streak a mile wide, but he was never downright rude or mean. But after his Dad died, it was like a switch had flipped. He found himself just not caring anymore. He was actually honestly surprised he hadn’t cracked earlier. There were a multitude of reasons in his past for his current state of being. He supposed the accident had just been the breaking point.

His dad had always pushed him, always made him feel like everything he ever did wasn’t good enough. Try harder Dean, do better Dean, you’re better than this Dean! In everything he did, from sports to school to cars. He’d tried and tried but it had never seemed like he could please John Winchester. His mother told him it was because he loved him so much that he pushed him, but Dean wasn’t so sure. It had left him with a lot of issues, not surprisingly.

He knew he should stop being such a dick. He could see what his behavior was doing to his mom, and to Sammy. But he just couldn’t seem to make himself stop. It was like he was on autopilot. He did feel kind of bad about that poor girl though. She hadn’t done anything to deserve his rudeness. Sammy was right, he probably should apologize to her. She hit like a bitch though! He was actually a little bit impressed. She didn’t look like the type of girl who could even think of throwing a punch.

He didn’t know why he’d hit on her in the first place. She wasn’t very much like his type. She had to be only about 5 foot 4, pale white skin that made her look like she’d never even been outside. She wasn’t skinny, but she wasn’t fat either. A decent ass (hey, of course he’d noticed!), average breast size. Her hair hung heavily around her face, and a sort of mousy brown that he usually associated with librarians and math nerds. Her eyes were pretty though. A sort of nice blue, not freakishly bright like Cas’s. Her mouth was nice too. Looked soft, plump, and would feel totally nice against-

“Woah dude!” he shook himself out of his thoughts. “Do not start fantasizing about the girl who clocked you a new one!”

He shook his head again, sticking his head back under the hood of the car he was working on. He’d go apologize to her after work, tell her he felt bad about the previous night, and then put her out of his mind. He had more important things to think about.

“Well, well well, look who it is.”

His head snapped up so fast he slammed it right into the hood. “Ouch! Son of a bitch!”

“Whoops, now I put on mark on your head as well as your face.”

He turned around, still rubbing his sore head. “What the hell are you doing here?”

December Rae held up a paper bag. “My uncle forgot his lunch. I’m bringing it to him. Is that okay with you?”

Good grief, this girl was sassy. “Free country,” he replied, looking her up and down. She was dressed pretty much the same as the night before, worn black jeans with a faded striped tank top, dirty Converse sneakers on her feet. She wasn’t wearing one stitch of makeup, and her face held sort of a wary, slightly agitated expression.

“You hit like a bitch,” he found himself saying, rubbing absently at the fading mark on his face. “Lot of power for such a little girl.”

One eyebrow shot up. “Call me little again, and I’ll be adding a mark where the sun don’t shine, buddy.”

“I’m so scared,” Dean rolled his eyes, reaching into his back pocket for his grease rag. He wiped his hands, eyes still trained on her tense figure. She really did look like she was ready to come over here and knee him in the groin. The thought made him seriously reconsider what he promised Sam for a minute. But he had been a dick. He sighed.

“Look, sweetheart, I might have deserved what you dished last night,” he stuck the grease rag back into his pocket. “Let’s just move on, and forget about it okay? Won’t happen again.”

She pursed her lips (which made Dean think a fleeting, nasty thought he hastily pushed away), letting out a small snort. “That what passes for an apology around here, Winchester?”

“You bet you ass it does,” Dean shrugged. “I don’t do chick flick moments. Take it or leave it.”

She stared at him for a minute, and he got the distinct feeling that she was wishing she could hit him again.

Finally she broke the awkward silence. “Fine,” she huffed, pulling at the ends of her thick hair. “I accept. But not because I think you’re sorry. I accept because for some reason I actually want to make a damn friend in this town, and Sam seems like he would want us to make ‘peace’.”

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. “My brother, always the popular one.” He turned back to the car. “Are we done here? I got work to do.”

“Yeah, we’re done,” December Rae was suddenly brushing by him. He caught a whiff of cherries, vanilla, and something slightly more spicy. His brain suddenly felt foggy. Damn, that smelt good.

“I’ll see you around, Dean Winchester,” her voice pulled him back to reality. “And when I do, don’t make me hit you again.”

And then she was walking away towards the main garage, and he found himself habitually watching her ass sway as she did so.

“What the fuck am I doing?” he shook his head, going back to his work. “Girl smells good and has a decent ass, get over it. She’s a basket case. Better off to stay the fuck away.” He stuck his head back under the hood, his mind soon filled with carburetors and engines and oil.

But he did smell cherries for the whole rest of the day.