Running Up That Hill Δ SPN [2]

023. DATING APP

The four Winchesters sit at a restaurant and are eating. Dean is looking at his phone and Sam is reading a newspaper.

"What? This? Um, cattle deaths a few towns over? A demon possibility or something?" Sam asks.

"No, it says right there. It's probably just cause of the drought." Dean says, putting his phone on the table.

"So, what are we doing here?" Sam asks.

"Uh, reason's right on your plate." Dean points to Sam's plate. "Lizardo's porterhouse -- U.S.D.A. prime. It's the only place between Connecticut and the bunker you can get a decent steak under 10 bucks."

"I still don't see why you didn't wake us up to figure out rich family's drama." Ophelia says.

"Because you two just looked so peaceful." Dean says, pinching her cheek making her push his hand away.

"Dude, you are blowing up. Who is that?" Sam asks, referring to Dean's phone that has dinged at least six times in the last minute.

"Ah, it's just, uh, you know, these alert thingies." Dean says, scrolling through his phone.

"For what?" Sam asks as Dean puts his phone face down on the table.

"You know, monster... stuff." Dean says. Sam and Ophelia share a look. Ophelia grabs the phone, giving it to Sam. "Hey, hey. Unh-unh. No. Give it back." Dean orders, holding his hand out.

"What? Wh-why?" Sam asks, holding the phone against his chest.

"Because privacy... and stuff." Dean says.

"Oh, priv--" Sam stops when he looks at the phone screen, Ophelia leaning over to see it.

"Oh, my God." She laughs.

"You're on a dating app?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, and you know what? Don't knock it until you try it." Dean says. Ophelia looks at him. "You are never trying one."

"Mm-hmm. Right. Sure." Ophelia nods, pretending she believes him.

"Nice screen name, Dean-- Impala67." Sam says the screen name in a deep voice making Ophelia laugh.

"All right, give it back. Come on." Dean says, reaching for his phone.

"Shaylene, huh? Dean, there are like a million messages here." Sam says, scrolling through them.

"Yeah, uh, check out her pic." Dean smirks.

"Uh... oh. Wow. Okay." Sam says. "Um, okay. She's hot. But..."

""But," what?" Dean asks.

"But she seems, um... kind of... available. Like too available. "Oh, baby, whatever you want. I'm burning up just thinking about you."" Sam reads a message.

"Okay. No. Ew. Fun's over. I'm... I'm not hungry anymore." Ophelia fights the urge to vomit.

"Yeah. Uh-huh. That's what you get for being a misfit." Dean says.

"Misfit?" Ophelia asks.

"It's the first thing that came to mind, leave me alone." Dean says. He turns to Sam. "They get raunchier."

"Ugh, gross." Ophelia grimaces.

"Yeah. Yeah, I-I see that. It's like a, uh... like a Penthouse letter." Sam says.

"Yeah. Is that bad?" Dean asks.

"No, it's not bad, Dean. It's too good to be true." Sam says.

"I'm sorry, is it-- is it so hard to believe that an attractive, red-blooded American female could be interested in someone like me?" Dean asks.