"Tonight, I'm gonna spoil you, babe." Dean smirks, pulling up to a dirty-looking local bar. The exterior looked rough, like it had been through a few years of wear and tear. The only lit part of the "Open" sign was the "n", if that tells you anything.
You fake gasp while you two get out of the car. "Dean Winchester, don't you dare take me here! This place is too fancy. I feel like royalty."
He laughs, puts his arm around you, and kisses the top of your head softly. "Anything for my princess," he jokes.
You roll your eyes, but can't stop a smile from creeping on to your face. You were used to life on the road, and never having the time - or money, for that matter - to sit down and have a nice, romantic dinner with him. Though you were admittedly sometimes upset by this, you appreciated the effort he always made to make you happy without all the flashy things in life. Him loving you was all you really cared about, anyways.
You enter the bar, taking in the familiar setting. Glancing around the room, you were pleased to find the same stereotypes you saw at every bar: an older woman with bleach blonde hair and huge breasts serving tables, a few intimidating motorcycle gang members playing pool, some drunk perverts searching for their next victim, etc. No matter how far you were, or what state you were in, you always found these types of people, fulfilling their roles in the bar.
You and Dean grabbed two empty seats at the bar. The bartender raised his eyes to meet Dean's, and Dean said, "Two glasses of scotch on the rocks." The bartender looked at you, as if surprised that you didn't order a fruity, girly drink. You give him a half-smile, which he takes as confirmation and begins to make your drinks.
"I'm going to the bathroom." Dean states.
"You do that, big boy." you tease. He shakes his head, smiling, and walks towards the bathroom.
The bartender sets the drinks in front of you, and you immediately take a sip of yours, relishing the delightful burn of the drink. You check your phone for any messages, continuing to sip your drink.
A man sits in the seat beside you, where Dean was sitting. You're startled and about to tell him that the seat is taken, but he beats you to it. "Hello, gorgeous."
You take a moment to glance him over. He has dark blonde hair, perfectly swooped to the right. He has gleaming blue eyes that are almost as bright as his white teeth. He's definitely handsome, you'd give him that.
You smile softly. "Hey. I'm sorry, that seat's taken."
He doesn't hesitate at all, saying, "By who? That pussy who just went to the bathroom?"
You laugh at his audacity. "Pussy, huh?"
"Mhm," His eyes stare into yours, hungrily. "You don't deserve that guy. You need something more than that. And I would be more than happy to show you what you're missing out on." His hand moves to your leg.
"Sorry, not interested." You push his hand away lightly, trying to remain polite. You're very irritated by how this guy is talking to you, and how he's talking about Dean.
When you push his hand away, he seems extremely taken back. You could tell he wasn't used to getting rejected. "Well, why the hell not?"
"I'm taken by the pussy who just went to the bathroom." you answer dryly, taking a sip from your drink.
"Figures," He scoffs. "I could tell you were a dumb bitch who settled for average guys."
Your body tenses, and your jaw tightens. "What did you just call me?"
"Oh, so that gets you going, does it?" The man smiles widely, amused by your anger.
You lean in closer to him and say in a hushed tone, "Listen here, you douchebag. You're going to walk away from me right now, before I punch your goddamn lights out. Understand?"
The guy snorts and begins to stand up. "So you're a dumb bitch and a prude. Guess you can't judge a book by its cover."
"Yeah, well this dumb bitch wouldn't ever go for a prick like you." a voice sounds from behind you. You turn around to see Dean, who is visibly seething with anger but trying to keep his cool.
"You're just in time. She won't put out anyways. You can have her." The man tries to walk away, but Dean grabs his shoulder and yanks him back.
"You're damn right I can have her. She's mine, and she's a million times better than any girl you'll ever get in your pathetic life. I don't want you ever talking to a lady like that again." Dean threatens him.
The man seems unfazed by his threats. "Who said she's a lady? She's exactly what I said: a dumb prude bitch."
Dean lifts his fist to punch the guy, but you jump up and stand in the middle of them. "Dean! Don't!" You turn around to face the man, smiling. "Let me do the honor."
You land your fist right on his nose, causing him to stumble back and clutch his face. When he balances himself, he looks down at his hand, which was splattered with the blood that was running from his nose. "You bitch," he sputters.
"Learn some better insults." you sneer.
"You two need to leave, now!" the bartender exclaims at you and Dean.
"Gladly." Dean responds, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the bar. You two get in the Impala, slamming the doors behind you. The engine roars as Dean starts it up, and he peels out of the parking lot.
"You should've let me punch his brains out, Haley." Dean breaks the angry silence.
"You didn't need to," you say, not looking at him. "I took care of it myself. It was my problem, anyways."
"Like hell it was your problem!" Dean explodes. "It was my problem, too. No one will treat my girlfriend like that. I should've made a goddamn example out of him. You're mine, and no one will challenge that."
You're overcome with silence, letting his words soak in to your understanding. He seemed really beaten up about the situation, and you began to wonder if you should have let him take the guy. He would've done a lot more damage, which the prick surely deserved. After pondering that, your focus turns to his last sentence: You're mine. Your heart leapt at those words. You secretly liked that he was so possessive of you. It was reassuring in a way, knowing that he didn't want anyone else to have you, and that he didn't want anyone else.
You take Dean's right hand off the wheel, noticing that his left hand was gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles were white. You intertwine your fingers with his, running your thumb along his. You see his shoulders relax, and the tension in his neck wash away. You bring his hand to your lips, leaving a quick kiss on it.
"I love you, Dean Winchester." you say softly.
His lips turn up in a small smile, and he kisses the back of your hand in return. "I love you, too, Haley."
(I hope you like it, penguin080512 ! ❤️ )