“I’m drunk” you sighed, resigned, leaning forward on your bar stool and clumsily letting your jaw come to rest on your hand, propped up by your elbow.
“I know, princess” Dean agreed, tilting his head and matching your agreement with his polite smile.
“Now, you-” lazily swinging your head to face Dean, you jabbed a finger a little too close to his face. “Don’t call me that.”
He flinched slightly, ever so slightly. “Why not?”
“Because you- you know Dean. You know it’s unfair” you slurred that last word, whining it a little.
“Unfair?” now there was genuine confusion on his countenance.
“You- you see, you call me princess, sweetheart, sugar- whatever takes your bloody fancy” your rolled your eyes vigorously, but it was apparent that that was more to get your point across effectively than to have malicious intentions. “And then you- then you have to be so beautiful, with those- you know, with those hands, and lips and stupid shitting hair and arms and- and you’re so lovely, and then, Dean then” you wagged that same finger at him right under his nose.
His mouth was opened and he followed your finger with his eyes.
“-you have to go do the- you have to go sleep with some really pretty- really- r-really beautiful girl- then you’re back to calling me sweetheart again the next day” you finished, now in even more emotional despair than before.
Dean swallowed, and looked at you. He just… looked. He was fascinated; this was more truth than the amount you’d ever told him, put together, and he… he wanted you to go on. More than wanted.
“I don’t get it, Dean. You know, occasionally when you- when you tell me I look nice and start blushing or call me one of those stupid names… I think you might actually think I’m something… something more than just another hunter. Something- someone- pretty. Maybe even beautiful. And then you just- you just take it all away because, you, Dean” this time, it was a rather sharp poke in the chest that Dean evidently chose to ignore. “You always have to be so goddamn beautiful, and like people so much more goddamn beautiful than me” you shook your head, widening your eyes at him and turning up the corners of your mouth in a strangely fond ‘oh, you’ gesture.
There was a miniscule moment of silence, while you just looked at each other, searching each other’s eyes, searching for something to say… and that was when a woman - a very lovely looking woman, you internally remarked - approached Dean, ready to hit on him like a piñata at a kids’ party.
“I’ll- I’ll leave you to it, then, sweetheart” you drawled before giving Dean an opportunity to react to either of you, abruptly rising from your bar stool and strolling off, dragging your fingertips along the bar top as you went.
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