That One Summer

He was already half way to drunk when she’d plopped down about half the bar away from him. She flagged down Ellen immediately, not even sparing a glance in his direction. She looked majorly pissed. He thought briefly about getting up and leaving, but this was his bar first, why should he slink away in cowardice? She hadn’t even noticed him anyways.

So he stayed where he was, downing shots of Jack and watching her work her way through a bottle of tequila. He snorted. She couldn’t even pick good booze. He had to admit though, anyone who could do multiple tequila shots without any chasers was pretty hardcore.

He’d been watching (and scowling of course) at her for about half an hour before things changed. A man he’d seen maybe a few times around town had slid into one of the stools next to her. He leaned in real close, and Dean had to snicker. If that poor sap even tried to hit on her, well he would probably end up with the same red handprint across his face that Dean had sported. To his surprise though, Crazy Bitch didn’t whack him. In fact, she actually leaned in towards him, a drunken half smile on her face. Dean blinked. Where was the slap? The rejection? The same treatment he’d gotten? Fuck, he was probably 10 times better than that douche, and she chooses to be all smiles with him? His hand clenched around his glass. No way. No way she smacks him and not this guy.

Downing his shot, he stumbled off the stool and over towards them, his drunken brain calling the shots.

“Hey, Crazy Bitch,” he slurred slightly, plastering his signature smirk all over his face. “See you got some company.”

“Oh fuck, you’re here?” December Rae glared at him, eyes glassy. “Leave me alone, Winchester. I’m busy.”

“I can see that,” Dean nodded to the man. “Sup buddy. Watch out for this one, she likes to hit. Hard.”

“Go away, dickwad,” December Rae flipped him the bird. “No one wants you’re arrogant ass here.”

“No, I think I’ll just sit myself right here,” Dean plopped himself down on the free stool on her left. “Free country after all.”

“Look dude, the lady doesn’t want you here,” the guy sneered at him. “I suggest you leave us alone. I was here first.”

“How about you take your lame ass haircut, your douchey shirt and your awful smelling stink and get the fuck out of my face?” Dean shot back. “Crazy Bitch here doesn’t need your services, thank you very much.” He flexed his arms slightly, fingers clenching into fists.

“I think she can decide that for herself,” the guy crossed his arms, putting on what must have been an intimidating stare, if Dean had been a pussy.

“Oh fuck off, both of you,” December Rae rolled her eyes, downing her last shot of tequila. “I’m too drunk to deal with this shit. I’m out of here.”

She slid somewhat sloppily off the stool and began to totter her way towards the door. Dean slid of his stool too, fixing Sir Douche with a menacing look.

“Don’t you dare follow her,” he hissed, slamming some money on the bar counter before stumbling after the petite brunette. He caught up to her just as she made it out into the parking lot.

“You owe me a thank you,” he laughed drunkenly, almost tripping over his own feet. Fuck, was he ever drunk. “That guy was a douche.”

“Fuck you Winchester,” December Rae stopped walking, turning around and poking him hard in the chest. “I can talk to, and go home with, whoever I want thank you very much!”

“So you would have gone home with him?” Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “Come on, Crazy, that guy could not satisfy you. He’d probably last like 10 seconds.”

“Why do you care?” she hissed, finger still pointing at him. “My sex life is my own damn business. For fuck’s sake, you really think you’re all that, don’t you?”

“I am all that,” Dean puffed out his chest. “Got a long list of references to prove it.”

“Arrogant ass!” December Rae took a step closer. “You think that every woman is just dying to fall into your bed, well I have news for you! Here is one woman who absolutely, completely, fully does not want to fuck you!”

“Oh really?” Dean stepped in too, their bodies almost touching. “Well good, because I certainly do not want to fuck you either!”

“I can’t believe Jo and Meg think that I’m attracted to you,” December Rae snorted, her face tilted up towards his.

“The guys think I’m into you too,” Dean scoffed. “Such bullshit.”

“Total bullshit,” December Rae nodded, her eyes fixed on his. He felt his tongue dart out and automatically lick his lips. Damn, when had she gotten so close? He inhaled deeply through his nose.

“You smell like cherries and tequila,” he mumbled, finding himself suddenly fascinated with the little sprinkle of freckles that were splashed across her nose.

“Well you smell like whiskey and engine oil,” she countered, her previously loud voice now barely a whisper.

They were only a hairsbreadth away now, chest nearly touching as they breathed in unison. He stared down into her clear blue eyes, and then it happened.

He reached for her, crushing her lips hard against his. To his surprise, she responded, fingers curling in his jacket collar as she moved her mouth furiously under his.

Oh hot damn she tasted good. Her lips were soft and sweet, her tongue a warm velvety burr against his own. He bit down on her lower lip, and was rewarded with a breathy moan that sent a jolt of lightening straight down to his groin.

As if reading his mind, she pushed herself closer against him, rolling her hips sharply against his. He sucked in a breath, one hand grabbing her ass to keep her there. The other left her hair, sliding instead under the hem of her cotton t shirt. His fingers met with soft skin, and he felt her body shiver slightly with the contact. Shit, he was so turned on.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against her lips. “Fuck, fuck fuck.”

She bit down on his lip hard, causing him to let out another groan. “Did you bring your car?” she asked breathily, sucking his swollen bottom lip into her mouth.

In response, Dean hauled her up with the hand on her ass. She responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, her lips leaving his to scrape her teeth across his jaw line.

“Thought you said you didn’t want to fuck,” he grunted, shuffling as fast as he could over to his black Impala. Setting her down a tad roughly, he shoved her into the door, practically pouring his body over hers. She threw her head back with a soft moan, exposing her neck. He promptly took the opportunity to latch his mouth onto it, trailing hot, wet kisses all over the creamy skin.

“Thought you didn’t either,” December Rae gasped, wriggling against him sinfully. “Backseat?”

“Read my mind, sweetheart,” Dean kept his mouth pressed to her neck as he fumbled with the car door handle. She ground her hips against his again, and he nearly whined with need.

“Got it,” he rumbled, his hand finally grasping the handle firmly. He went to pull it open when..,

“Well this is a very interesting turn of events.”

They both froze instantly, Dean with his mouth still on December Rae’s neck, her hands still tangled in his short hair.

“Backseat of the car? Very classy. In a bar parking lot, no less.”

Anna. Shit, Anna was here. And he was, he was-

Oh fuck.

He sprang away from the car, his abrupt movement causing him to stumble a little. He felt as if he’d just been hit over the head with sobriety. The fog lifted from his brain, and he grasped just what he had been doing.

“Oh shit,” he whispered, chancing a look at the ruffled brunette leaning against his car. She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide with horrified realization.

“You…me…what…” she managed to stutter out, her face draining of its color. “We, no, we, I can’t believe, oh shit, shit shit…”

“Are you two okay?” Anna asked, concerned etched across her pretty face.

“Take me home, please Anna,” December Rae composed herself, her face becoming a mask. She threw Dean a stony look. “Please, I want to go home.”

“Of course dear,” Anna sighed, stepping forward to take December Rae’s arm kindly. “Of course I’ll take you home.”

Dean stayed rooted to his spot, his mouth still hanging slightly agape as he watched the woman he had been practically mauling the moment before not spare him a second glance as she walked away. Anna, however, turned back and gave him an almost sympathetic half smile.

“Goodnight Dean,” she called softly. “Please don’t drive home.”

And then they were gone, disappearing into the inky night. Dean finally regained his motor function, taking two large steps towards the car and leaning heavily against it.

He’d kissed her. He’d fucking kissed her. He couldn’t believe it. A few shots too many and he was ramming his tongue down her throat. What was wrong with him? He’d spent hours convincing himself he was not into her in the slightest, and then he goes and pulls a shit stunt like that.

Blame it on the alcohol, his brain screamed. You were drunk. You were both drunk. She’s a decent looking girl. It’s natural.

But it hadn’t felt natural. It had felt like nothing else he’d ever felt before. Never had he been so turned on by just a little mouth action. For pete’s sake, he hadn’t even gotten any groping in! He should not have had a reaction like that. And that scared the absolute shit out of him.

She kissed you back, a tiny voice piped up from somewhere deep inside him. She kissed you back. Don’t forget that. She kissed you back with those soft, pink, absolutely-

“Shut up,” he smacked a hand to his head, begging his train of thought to stop. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He slumped down to the ground cradling his now aching head in his hands. Closing his eyes, he willed his mind to clear.

He was met with the image of glassy blue eyes, blown wide with want, staring up at him.

He groaned. “Son of a bitch.”

He was in trouble now.