Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

Sorrow's Company

Dean Winchester X Reader

Synopsis: After a long day, you're at a bar, when you see a person who seemed to have it worse than you.  Set in season three, close to the the finale.

"A jack and coke please." You told the bartender as you tapped your fingers nervously against the bar. Glancing around, you stared at each male body in the room, making sure it wasn't the familiar, linebacker build of your ex, John. You had broken up with him the night before, after two years together, and he didn't seem to be taking it to well. So well in fact, that he had been threatening you all night, and at work today. 

After your drink was placed in front of you, you kept up your perusal of the bar patrons, feeling a little foolish for doing so. This wasn't your usual bar, in fact it was on the other side of the town. But with his creepy texts looming on your mind, you couldn't be too careful. 

"Rough day?" A deep timbered voice said from the bar stool next to you, and you jumped, almost knocking your drink over in the process. 

"You could say that." You mumbled, tilting your head down so your hair covered your face, trying to cut off the conversation before it could even start.

"Tell me about it." He muttered, getting the hint and leaving you to your drink. Your hand shaking, you lifted it up, taking a sip before once again checking to make sure John hadn't shown up while you were preoccupied. When it was deemed safe, you turned your attention on the man sitting next to you, staring, looking him over out of the corner of your eye. 

While not as buff and big as your previous boyfriend, this man was tall, and his shoulders hiding underneath that drab olive coat showed that he could handle himself. His hair was short and spiky, a brown from what you could tell in the dim bar light. As you stared, he ran his hand through it, making the already short strands stand even more on edge. His shoulders were slumped, his long and slender fingers holding tightly to a glass of whiskey. You could barely make out the bruised knuckles on his hand. 

From what you could tell, and the bar light was not flattering, was that this was a handsome man. A man who was used to getting his way, or any girl he wanted. A lot like John, and that thought had you wanting to scoot your chair farther away. You were done with men like John, men that treated you like crap, and expected you to be grateful for it.

"You know, if you wanted to stare at me, all you had to do was ask." The man said, in his smooth and enticing voice, turning in his seat to stare your way. The shadows shifted, and you could make out a mean slice on his cheekbone, and the darkening signs of a black eye. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You apologized, starting to feel even more nervous and unsure. Setting your empty glass on the counter, you moved to stand up, freezing when you felt his hand on you. 

Noticing how tense you had become, he released his hold on you quickly, apologizing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stop you. But I thought maybe I could buy you a drink. At least as an apology for bugging you. I didn't mean any harm. I just came here to drink, and forget about what lays ahead. It would be nice to have a drinking companion."

There was something in his tone of voice, in the sincerity of his eyes that had you sliding back into your seat. His eyes were a green, but they were so full of pain. Eyes that probably matched your own e/c eyes. Instantly you had a feeling he wasn't there to play games with you, to hurt you or torment you. He just really wanted someone to sit and drink with him. To maybe share a conversation with, and then go your separate ways. 

"What were you drinking?" He asks as he signals the bartender. After ordering a new drink for you and him, the two of you sit there quietly for a moment, and you chance another quick look around the bar. "I don't know what you keep looking for, but are you sure you'll find it in a cheap, tasteless bar like this one?"