117. Old people looking on at the two of you fondly. [Dean Winchester]
A/N: Day number 3 of this prompt thing I’ve taken on. Prompt #117.
Word count: 599
Warnings: Mention of sex, otherwise just fluff I suppose
“Say, Marlene, don’t these two remind you of the good old days?” a kind man asks his partner.
“Of course, Fred,” the older woman returns, smiling as she watched the pair fight over who would pay for their dinner. “I’ve been watching them all evening.”
The elderly woman’s gaze directs to the younger couple a few tables away.
“You said last time that I could pay this time!” the girl protests, reaching across the table in a very unladylike manner for the tab that Dean had already picked up.
“It’s called a date,” he tells her, swatting at her hand. “The guy always pays on a date or else it’s not a real date.”
“It’s the twenty first century, Dean! Girls can pay for food too!” she says grouchily, scooting her chair closer to the diner table in an attempt to get a further reach.
“Yeah but you’re not gonna!” he catches the waiter’s eye, gesturing him over.
“Dean, I swear if you don’t let me pay for this, then I’m not going on a hunt with you for two weeks,” she threatens, and he pauses for a moment, trying to judge her seriousness.
Two weeks without her on hunts would make for some long days, that much he knew.
“Look, darling. She just said something that made him second guess what he’s doing,” Marlene nudges the old man beside her. “I remember I used to do that all the time.”
“And more often than not it made me look like a fool!” Fred returns, offering his wife a knowing look. “I can feel for that poor man.”
Once more their gazes travel to the couple.
“Don’t be that way,” Dean remarks, watching her pout. Pouting never worked on him, but every single time he was a few seconds away from breaking when she gave up. “You can get the check next time.”
“That’s what you said last time!” she explodes, shooting him a glare. “And the time before that!”
“I know, Sweetheart,” he says with a mischievous grin as he hands the waiter his card. The waiter takes it and walks away, leaving her scowling after him. “How about I make it up to you when we get back to the bunker?”
“How could you ever make it up to me?” she asks, watching his smirk grow.
“That depends on how you want me to make it up to you,” he returns, reaching for her hand over the table.
She pauses for a moment, weighing her words carefully.
“You can make it up to me by letting me drive Baby,” she says, watching his eyes narrow.
“That’s playing dirty,” he growls, taking his card from the waiter as he returned.
“Or…” she trails off, squeezing his hand. “You fuck me hard in Baby once we get back to the bunker. Your choice.”
He gives her a long look, as if trying to judge her seriousness.
“I’m driving,” he says with a smirk as he stands up, and she rises shortly after him.
He leans down and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek while his hand falls to give her ass a subtle squeeze before he guides her out of the diner.
“Yeah, those two bring back the good memories,” Marlene sighs as she watches the young couple depart.
Fred rises to his feet and offers his wife his hand, as they had already paid their bill.
And in a momentary spur from their youth, he reaches behind and grabs her rear, just as he had seen the young couple do moments before.
“Good memories, indeed, Marlene.”