I Have Two Faces; Blurry is the One I'm Not

|three|

Three-twenty rolls around and the crowd begins to trickle out, both the drunk and the designated drivers stumbling out in droves. Austin steps out of the kitchen, removing his grimy, grease-spattered apron, eyeing Sam and Dean. "Ten minutes, then you guys-"

"We're waiting on Sabby," Dean says gruffly, tapping his empty bottle on the counter, "right?" He turns his head to look at me, offering me a dazzling white smile.

I finish drying a glass and set it on the shelf. "Yes sir, Mr. Winchester." I glance at Austin, laughing, and then wink at Dean. Sam groans.

"I'm nauseated." He grumbles, whipping his Samsung out of his pocket and fiddling with it, refusing to look at his brother.

Austin laughs good-naturedly before watching the final patron - with the exception of the Winchesters - leave the bar. The second the door closes behind her, Nikki removes her name tag and nearly skips over to Austin, pecking him on the cheek. "We made good money." She grins wickedly at me. "Who got more tips tonight?"

"At the same time." I chuckle, grabbing at my tip jar under the register. "One, two, three-"

"One fifty-two!" Nikki crows after she finishes counting the tips she stores in a pouch strapped to her thigh.

"Two hundred, even." I giggle, putting my jar up on the counter. Nikki crosses her arms as I throw my head back and laugh loudly.

Inside, Blurry laughs as well, if even for a second, which is a relief. When He is happy, he stays gone longer.

Dean stands up and I step back a little. He's taller than I expected. "Well, a pretty, ringless, girl like you..." He murmurs, staring directly into my eyes, his hazel gaze amused.

"I'm flattered." I reply, breaking eye contact as my face flushes. I glance at Nikki, who makes a barely noticeable kissy face at me. "Fuck off," I mouth.

She cackles and Austin nudges her ribs before tossing me the keys to the bar. "Lock her up." He says slyly as he and Nikki waltz out of the bar, leaving only Dean, Sam, and I.

"So, uh, what'd you need to talk to me about?" I ask, taking my purse out from under the counter, my pulse quickening to the point where my veins were throbbing so intensely that it felt as if my bracelets were constricting my blood flow.

Sam fiddles with his still unopened bottle - what is up with this guy? - while Dean locks his fingers together, his eyebrows nearly mimicking the gesture, as if he's thinking hard. "We uh, I uh, I don't remember."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow and step out from behind the bar, the little half-door swinging to its magnetic close once more.

Dean leans around the counter and stares at my legs. "Oh, I remember now."

Unfortunately, there is no way to say '???,' so I opt for, "What?"

"What're you doing tomorrow?" He asks slowly and deliberately, Sam audibly sighing.

"Really, Dean?" He complains. We lock eyes momentarily as I notice him pocketing his beer. "I paid for it-"

"I know," I assure him, waving him off, before returning my attention to Dean. "And uh, I'm a tad preoccupied," I internally cringe at the thought of therapy tomorrow, "until around one tomorrow-"

Dean pulls a sticky notepad and pen out of his pocket and slides them toward me. "I'll text you. I think we can work something out." He half-smiles as he says this, his lips barely parting, just a sliver of his pearly whites exposed.

I scrawl my number down on the pad as neatly as I can before sliding it back. He nods approvingly at it before tucking it away into an inside pocket of his dark brown leather jacket, his eyes only leaving my face to smile knowingly at Sam, his nose scrunching up as he grins widely - a picturesque 'cheese.' He even squints his eyes. My heart flutters a little bit in my chest.