Justice Is Served

30th of November/1st of December

Dean
Dean Winchester downed his whiskey, the sensation of the alcohol burning his throat. He knew it wasn't a good idea to spend what might be his last night of freedom in a bar, but the desire for some excitement had drawn him. He should have listened to his brother Sam who was representing him and stayed at home running over his statement. His trial, that felt as if it had been looming forever, was tomorrow.

He spun round in his stool, allowing his eyes to rove the crowd of moving bodies, it was unusually packed that night. A woman caught his eye at the edge dance floor. She was dressed in a tight black jeans and a low cut camisole partially covered by a leather jacket that matched in colour. She had wavy brown hair that swept down to the middle of her back. She looked bored and ready to leave, Dean felt the urge to go and talk to her.

He ordered a beer for the woman and left the bar, making his way over to her. He had an idea, before he approached her he spoke to the guy on music. He requested a song and handed him a 10 dollar bill. Feeling confident, he went to talk to her.

"Hey there, I couldn't help but notice you standin' around. With a face like that you shouldn't be frowning." He flashed her his most charming smile. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"You were watching me?" Dean knew she was going to try and play him out to be a creep but he was prepared.
"Couldn't help myself." He handed her the drink, she accepted.

"I'm surprised you didn't order me some girly drink with an umbrella and a pretty straw." She quipped.
"You don't look like a typical woman." He replied.
"You've got a good eye." She admitted. The song Dean had picked, Cherry Pie by Warrant, began to play.

"I asked them to play this song, it'd be a waste if I didn't get to dance to it with you." He held a hand out to her. She looked at it for a moment then said
"You got good taste." And took his hand. They weaved through the moving bodies to the centre of the floor.

She could definitely move. Dean rest his hands on her hips and she hung hers over his shoulders, careful not to spill the drink on him. They swayed their bodies together, getting dangerously close. They were practically nose to nose when the song came to an end. They laughed breathlessly and went to get another drink.

Another drink turned into 5 and when they got back on the dance floor, they were significantly less sober. They were also significantly less polite, as Dean's hands strayed lower than before and she had tangled her hands in his hair. Their bodies were flush against each other as they danced, they began kissing heatedly.

As one might expect, they hadn't stayed very long after that. Back at Dean's apartment, their encounter had ended with a flurry of removed clothes and not much more need be said after that.

Dean woke at 6am to the sound of his alarm wailing incessantly. He rubbed his throbbing head and rushed to the bathroom as a familiar sick feeling rose from his stomach. He groaned as he turned on the shower, Sam was going to kill him. He hadn't planned on getting so drunk the night before, he racked his brains in an attempt to remember what had happened. Nothing resurfaced, he showered quickly and began getting dressed.

As he rushed out of his bedroom his phone began buzzing, the caller I.D. read "Sammy", he answered immediately.
"Dean, please tell me you're leaving and not still in bed." His brother's worried voice came through the receiver.
"Have a little faith Sammy, I'm on my way out the door now." He snatched his keys from the hook on the wall when he spotted something on the floor. A leather jacket. His evening came flying back all at once, he could hardly hear his brother talking.