( continues...) music was loud. A bouncer came up to them from out of the shadows, a big body-builder type with a shaven head. He stared at Dean and Sam and looked like he couldn't decide between frowning and grinning. "You boys lost?"

Dean glared at him--up at him, dammit, the bouncer was Sammy's height. "Don't think so. There a problem?"

The bouncer smirked. "Cover's five bucks."

"You take cards?"

"Nope."

"I've got it," Sammy said quickly, reaching into his pocket. "Is there a drink minimum?"

"Nope." The bouncer took the money. "Enjoy your stay at the Fabulous Ladies Night Club, gents." He snickered as he left.

A drum roll came over the speakers, and a shriek came from the audience. Dean looked around quickly. "Those are some damned high-pitched voices."

Sam suddenly started laughing. "Dean, I don't think those women we saw were lesbians."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Because--" He couldn't talk for laughing and pointed at a poster on the wall behind him. Before Dean could look, a spotlight hit the stage and the pole.

"Welcome to another night at the Fabulous Ladies Night Club," said a smarmy voice on the speaker. "Starting off tonight, one of your favorites, Bob the Cowpoke!"

As the women cheered, a grinning blond guy in a ten-gallon hat, a leather vest, shiny pants, leather chaps, and bare feet sauntered out from behind the curtain.

"Oh my fucking God," Dean gasped. The guy started shimmying across the stage, his hands tucked suggestively in the waistband of his pants. Dean shook himself. "Don't look, Sammy!" He reached up to try and cover his little brother's eyes. Sam wheezed in helpless laughter and slid down the wall to the floor.

---

It was long and black and had fins. It might have teeth, too, behind that grill. The windows were blacked out. It was a car with secrets, probably nasty ones. Dean looked over his shoulder, suddenly feeling a little guilty at ogling another car in front of his baby.

And I'm laughing like a loon, here on the east coast.

---

He was weirdly reluctant to leave the Impala and the--he looked again--the DeSoto alone together. It looked like a scene from West Side Story waiting to happen, the chrome glinting in the glare of the street lights coming on above. He felt like he'd hear switchblades opening if he turned his back.

Oh, LOVE!

---

Dean looked over his shoulder, suddenly feeling a little guilty at ogling another car in front of his baby.

Dean, you don't look at other cars in front of your car. It's rude. And funny.

"Don't look, Sammy!" He reached up to try and cover his little brother's eyes. Sam wheezed in helpless laughter and slid down the wall to the floor.

So cute.

---

Sam looked in the direction the women had gone in. "They didn't look like lesbians."

Dean raised both eyebrows. "You've met enough to judge?"

Sam grinned. "College, you know. You learn stuff."

Sam is definitely the type to have volunteered to help hang up the Feminist Rally banners for his female friends....

---

"Don't look, Sammy!"

BWAH!

---

Dying of laughter over here.

---

Poor Dean, no naked ladies and his car caught him looking at another set of wheels.

---

Oh, Connie, that's JUSt fucking made of awesome! I'm reading it with my morning coffee....LOVE!

---

So, yeah, another story. Mostly, I got caught up in writing action scenes. Because I am like that.

Breathe On, Sister

Really, truly going outside now. (It's a gorgeous day.)

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