The Father of My Twins (Dean Winchester Love Story)

Chapter 3 (The Bar)

[Big] Dean's POV

I frowned at her. "Yeah?" Was there something wrong with my name?

Her face grew red and she clenched her hands in little fists at her sides. Then she started running at me. "Deanna, don't you dare!" Vanessa ordered loudly. But the little munchkin kept coming. "Oh sh-" Deanna drew a leg back and kicked me -hard- in the crotch.

****

"Dean, you freaking idiot." Sam laughed, but I just grimaced.

"That girl could really kick," I muttered under my breath. He just shook his head and laughed more. "So she just ran at you when she heard your name?" He stopped pacing around and looked at me. "Yep, pretty much." I half shrugged, repositioning my ice pack. "Wow." Sam grabbed two beers and tossed one to me. I caught it, cringing at the thought of it hitting...

"You have no idea."

Vanessa's POV

"Mom! I could've taken him!" Dean shrieked at me, obviously PO'D. "You can't just gang up on some random man!" I shouted back. "He left you! He left us." Deanna argued, her brows furrowed.

This was unfair- two against one. I opened my mouth, then closed it, unable to find the right answer. "That still doesn't give you any right to do what you did." I finally replied.

Deanna rolled her eyes and put her hands on her bony hips. Dean shoved his hands into his jean pockets. "Whatever," both kids answered quietly.

"Go to your room," I snapped, crossing my arms. They huffed and stomped down the long hallway. "Don't you dare slam that-" Dean pulled the door to their bedroom in and caused it to bang. "Door," I sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter.

I closed my eyes and tried to get a moment's peace when my cell phone rang. My hand quickly ran over the cool granite and found it. I looked at the screen.

'Rhonda calling'. I slowly pressed the answer button and raised the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I asked tiredly, making sure it wasn't one of those drunk guys that took Rhonda's phone while she got them a drink. "Hey girl!" I heard Rhonda's New Jersey accent chirp from the other line. "Hey," I brightened up slightly. She was my manager at the bar down the street, where I had my second job.

"Do you mind comin' down to the bar tonight?" She said loudly. "Sure," I replied, "do you want me to wear my uniform?" Some overtime payment might help with the rent.. I could practically hear her shake her head.

Looks like I'm not getting paid today, I thought to myself. "Wear something nice," She whispered. "Why are we whispering?" I asked her quietly. I heard her laugh. "Oh you. Just dress nice and be down her at 9." Rhonda hung up the phone.

"Oh dear," I let air out of my cheeks. Rhonda's dictionary was a bit different than mine. Her definition of wearing something "nice" was very, very... slutty.

[Big] Dean's POV

I drummed my fingers on the bar counter and smiled at the plump woman. "Are you absolutley sure you didn't see anything?" I asked her again. She shook her head. "One of my workers did, though," she said thoughtfully.

So she was the manager of this place.. "I'll call her up if ya want," she added. "That'd be great." I glanced at Sam, who was looking for any sulfur or ectoplasm. I turned my attention back to the manager, what was her name? Rena? She held the phone in her hands. I watched as she dialed and lifted it to her diamond -fake diamond- studded ear and waited for the other person the pick up.

"Hey girl," She smiled slightly. "Do you mind comin' down to the bar tonight?" There was another pause as she waited for a reply. She shook her head, oblivious to the fact that the waitress on the other end couldn't see her.

"Wear something nice," She whispered, putting emphasis on the word 'nice,' eyeing me. She laughed. "Oh you. Just dress nice and be down here at 9." She hung the phone back on the wall. "She'll be here soon," She said reassuringly, looking at Sam, who was bent over. I stifled a laugh. She was checking him out. "Can I get you a drink?"

Vanessa's POV

Nice. Nice. Find something nice, I chanted in my head, searching through my small closet. "Here we go," I pulled out a silver miniskirt and a low neck, flowy purple shirt. I quickly put on the outfit, looked in the mirror, and asked, "Rhonda, what do you say about this?" In my best impression, I answered myself. "Needs a push up bra and heels." I'm going crazy.

With two "I love you"s and a "Don't answer the door," I was out of the house. I started to walk towards my car, but turned around and locked the door. Double checking by trying to turn the knob several times, I was satisfied at last and got into my beat up car.

I buckled up, even though the bar was 3 blocks away. You can never be too careful in this town, I guess. Before I knew it, I was at my destination. I pulled into the parking lot and stopped my car, wondering why Rhonda called me here on my night off.

I pulled my keys out and gently closed the door, trying not to damage the old thing any more. I didn't bother locking it, there was no reason to try and steal my piece of crap car.

I fixed my really short -too short- skirt and adjusted my top. "Here goes nothing," I said to myself, looking around to make sure no one had heard me. I pushed open the door and saw the last person I'd expected to be sitting there.

"Son of a bitch."

***************

SO I'M EDITING THE STORY AND IT REALLY SUCKS. LIKE WTF WAS WRONG WITH ME