The dusty old impala, that the boys knew too well, wheeled up to the only bar in the little town in Utah. They hopped out and began walking up to the dingy, washed-up bar.
“Puzzle’s? Who names a bar Puzzle’s?” Sam questioned noticing the large, obnoxious neon sign plastered to the front of the building.
“Maybe that’s the puzzle.” Dean answered with a playful smirk dancing on his lips, Sam rolling his eyes. Sam reached for the door and held it open for his brother.
“Ladies first.” Sam chuckled. “Shut up.” responded Dean, although he didn’t really care because he was older and that’s all that mattered.
The boys plopped themselves in front of the counter. They ordered their usuals; Rum and Coke for Dean, just a beer for Sam. Everything was going as it always had, it was just the normal bar scene, nothing fancy. That is, until Dean spotted a dark-haired girl from across the room. But this girl wasn’t any normal girl sat alone at a bar. This girl had brown eyes like a teddy bear that a child holds close in the night but if you pissed her off, those eyes became the lightning in the heart of a storm. This girl had fire in her soul; fire that could bring cities falling to their knees. But Dean didn’t know any of this…yet.
“Hey Sam, 10 o’clock.” Dean whispered. “Dean, don’t, after that Amazon girl, you shouldn’t be taking any chances.” “I’m doing it Sam.” “Dean-“ but Sam was cut-off my Dean’s abrupt departure.
Dean waltzed right up to the counter by the unnamed girl and took a seat next to her, as confident as can be.
“So, what’s such a nice lady like you doing in such a dirty mind like mine.” Dean asked her. Nice one Dean, real smooth.
“Skip the bullcrap. The name’s Pierce. Caspar Pierce.” Dean was taken aback by her abrupt “no bullshit” attitude.
“James Bond reference eh? I like it. Dean McCartney.” Dean replied holding out his hand. She gladly accepted and gave a small smile. “Alright Dean, so tell me, why are you, an obviously important man judging by the suit, in a shabby little bar in the middle of Utah?”
“Im working a case down here about the four women that went missing last week. And for the suit- F.B.I.” Dean said before finishing his drink. “What are you doing down here?”
“Been here all my life. Dental hygienist, house in the middle of nowhere, two dogs. Pretty average life out here.” Caspar responded flatly, almost disappointed. “Hey, some people dream of an average life.” Said Dean, trying to comfort her. He motioned to the bartender for another drink.
“Yeah, I bet they do.” Answered Caspar, now just messing with the empty glass in her hands. “So, where ya parked for the night?” “Little motel just off the highway.” Responded Dean receiving his second rum and Coke, and taking a sip. “Now then, why don’t we skip all this stupid small-talk and you drive me back to this motel room of yours like we both know we’re dying to?” Choking on his drink, Dean stumbled out his words,
“Uh… yeah, let’s go. My… um… car is… in the back” Let’s just say it had been a long ass time since a girl had made Dean trip over his words. As Caspar got herself ready to leave, Dean looked back to his brother and shot him an “I-really-didn’t-mean-for-this-to-happen” face, while Sam shot back an “I’m-really-fucking-annoyed-but-I-don’t-care-enough-to-stop-you” face. The car ride back was quiet and seldom. It was a mere thirty-four degrees outside but the sexual tension in that car could have fogged up the windows by itself.
As they arrived at the road-side motel, Dean, like the gentleman he is, opened the door for Caspar. He took her hand to help her out, intertwining their fingers. They were practically running to the room. They stopped outside room twenty-eight, and Dean jammed the room key into the lock, eventually forcing it open.
The musky scent of cigarette butts, dusty décor, and regrets filled their noses as they flew into the room. But this time Dean wanted to take it slow. He missed that. Caspar began to unbutton his shirt, before he grabbed her wrists and lowered them to her sides. He placed one had on her cheek and the other on her waist. Dean stared into her eyes, his emerald ones laced with fiery lust. He brought her closer to him, close enough to feel her hot breath on his lips.
“Dean?” Caspar whispered.
“Yes?”
“There’s just one problem. I don’t kiss on the first date.” With that, Caspar was already halfway out the door, leaving Dean speechless. Caspar turned back to him, “I know who you are… Dean Winchester.”
