Title: A Night Out
Rating: PG13
Words: 1500
Summary: John and Dean have a good night out
Notes: I was trying a short writing exercise. This was supposed to be a 60 minute fic, but it ended up being twice that, because it's me. Anyway, this is a 120 minute fic, prompts at the end.

The sway of her hips caught his attention as she glided by in a heinously short skirt. Curves caught the light just right and reflected off the cheap, shiny material. Dean swallowed the last of his second beer and turned back to his father.

John was smirking and shaking his head, full of amusement, exasperation, and pride for his oldest son. Dean saw the first two, but pride seemed always just out of reach. It was almost embarrassing how tight his chest became when he heard the occasional good job, son. As long as no one knew what it meant to him, Dean would continue to strive for and savor those moments. They were both proud tonight. He flashed his most cocky grin back at his father before nodding to his empty bottle.

"It's early, yet," John said and Dean translated.

We did good.

We saved people.

We can relax.

Catch our breath.

Relaxation had become somewhat scarce in the few months since Sam left. Both Dean and John avoided talking about the situation and used hunting as a perfectly legitimate cover. Long days researching and longer nights spent hunting left little time to analyze their two-person operation. They managed to not-talk their way to Sacramento for a simple, but violent, haunting. They had conversations about everything from where to eat to the latest political scandal. Dean found it hilarious that people got so worked up about the sexual behavior of other people that they didn't even know. He figured the whole congress was busy doing each other and that's why nothing ever got done in D.C. John about choked on his M&Ms when he heard that.

Neither of them mentioned that they were practically in shouting distance of Stanford. Not until the hunt was over and the family so grateful. They went on and on about how family was the most important thing, and their two sons (of course it was two sons; both in danger of being killed but remarkably untouched) practically wanted action figures of the hunters by the time they left. Without talking about it, Dean drove them in the direction of Sam, wanting to see him so badly at that moment that he was willing to risk his father's wrath. Only, John hadn't been mad. He was quiet, didn't say a word as they parked two blocks from Sam's dorm. He was quiet as he followed Dean to the building and they found a secluded spot to watch the doors. Both had known exactly which dorm he was in, even though neither had ever mentioned and certainly didn't find out from the youngest of the family.

After a half hour, they saw Sam, all legs and arms and bulging backpack, walking with three other people. They were laughing at something a short, very animated boy was saying. Dean could even hear Sam's roaring laugh. They didn't linger long. Sam and his friends talked in front of the building for about fifteen minutes, then two continued on to another dorm while Sam and the animated boy entered theirs.

Dean and John waited a few more minutes, then John said, "Hell, if he grows anymore he's gonna need a light on his head to warn off air traffic."

Dean laughed and they made their way back to the car and found a motel and bar nearby, but not close enough to any college hang-outs that Sam might see them.

Dean returned to the table with two more beers, letting his gaze wander to the shiny skirt once more. He hadn't had time to relax in other ways for a long time, either.

"Go on," said John.

"What?" Dean snapped his gaze back to his father's.

"That girl's walked by three times and brushed off every other guy in the place."

"Maybe she's not into guys," Dean suggested just for the reaction he knew he would get. He loved that he could still surprise the old man.

"Go give her the Winchester charm."

"Nah, I'm good here." The past two days had been all about family, and he didn't want that to end, yet. He could pick up a shiny skirt in the next town.

John's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "How about you try winning against your old man?"

Dean barked out a laugh and gulped a good portion of his bottle. "Darts or pool? Loser picks."

"You're such a little shit," John snorted.

"What? I found the bones first. Think that gives me the lead."

"Yeah, you're also the only one to get tossed into a bookshelf," John said sarcastically.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Dude, that's more points to me."

"You - what?" John said, then steered the topic back around. "Pool. This place doesn't have the space to make darts worth it."

The dim light was more clouded by smoke in the pool corner. Their table had been close to the door, so there was some fresh air, but there seemed to be no circulation in the back. Neither man was bothered much by the stale air. Half of their nights were spent in similar places. They had heard talk of smoking bans here and there, but the type of bars they preferred would be the last ones to enforce such a rule.

Dean racked the balls. The solid, blue two-ball was missing, so he removed the striped, blue ten-ball to even it up. John was already set to break, so Dean quickly picked out a cue from the small selection. None were perfect, but he had been trained on everything from professional quality (visiting Caleb was good for more than weapons and ammo) to the worst crooked sticks that couldn't in good conscience be called pool cues.

John only sunk one ball on the break, and Dean knew that was what he chose to do. There was no point to let anyone see how good they were, not for a fun game. They had time to really practice in the privacy of friend's homes. Sam had loved the game when he was younger, before he realized that they hustled and the money for his new shoes was based on lies or some melodramatic thing.

Dean snorted at the memory of a nine year old Sammy on a step stool just so he could see over the table. He learned fast, could beat most of the regulars of any bar by the time he was twelve. Box of Crackerjacks in one hand and a Coke in the other between every turn.

"Hey," Dean said, catching his dad's attention after sinking the three. "Did Sammy ever figure out we were betting on him as a kid?"

John chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Don't think so. Never brought it up, anyway."

And they both knew that he would have. It would have been one more F on John's parenting grade report. It was obvious that both of them were trying not to let their thoughts stray too negatively on this night.

"It was good to see him," Dean blurted. He felt good and light and wanted to speak the truth if only for tonight.

"Yeah," John said with a drink. "He's doing alright, huh?"

"Damn straight!" Dean said proudly.

"Who's that, sugar?" Shiny Skirt said, sidling up to Dean and laying her hand over his on the cue.

Dean glanced at his father, who was still smiling, and back at the girl. She wasn't as pretty close up, too much make-up and overdone hair, but she was still appealing in the way most women were to Dean.

"My brother. He's in college." He wanted to say more, but years of training held him back from giving up too many details.

"Full scholarship," John added with a face full of pride. The kind that Dean ached for, and if he didn't love his little brother so much he might be jealous. Instead, he was even happier for the kid and hoped he wouldn't take too long to get his head out of his ass and call them.

"Wow," she said and sounded truly impressed. "Smarts, looks, talent on the table. What else?"

Dean almost laughed at how hard she was trying. He guessed from the pale discoloration around her finger and her lack of flirting finesse that she must have just gotten out of a long term relationship. She was probably looking for a rebound, nothing long-term, considering she hadn't offered or asked for a name. Not to mention the fact that the hand not on the cue had found it's way into his back pocket.

John shook his head with that smile in place and sunk the last three balls, freeing Dean to go with Shiny Skirt.

"You have your keys?" John asked.

"Yeah, I'll meet up with you in a while." Turning to the girl, Dean kissed her quickly and took her hand. She led him out of the bar.

Two hours later, he was back in the room he shared with his father. The past two days had been great, and he wanted to hold off sleep just to prolong the experience, because you never knew what tomorrow would bring.

Prompts:
Flirt
Heinously
Crackerjack