Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1508324.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Jo_Harvelle/Dean_Winchester
  Character:
      Jo_Harvelle, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Pre-Canon, Loss_of_Virginity, Virginity, First_Time, Age
      Difference, Fingerfucking, Cunnilingus, Blow_Jobs, Oral_Sex, Stranger
      Sex, Vaginal_Sex, One_Night_Stands
  Collections:
      Supernatural_Kink_Meme
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-04-22 Words: 4542
****** Another Blonde, Another Bar ******
by agirlnamedtruth
Summary
     Years before Dean steps into Harvelle's Roadhouse with Sam, it's just
     another bar with another blonde.
Notes
     Written for this_prompt on the SPN kink meme. I actually started this
     way back in December '12 but I'm trying to get all my unfinished fic
     finished so over a year later, here it is.
See the end of the work for more notes
He had really been looking for a motel. The car was stuttering along like Dean
was choking every mile out of it a yard at a time. He missed the smooth purr of
the Impala and the soft leather seats. That was a car that had been looked
after, loved and nobody had ever loved the Plymouth that was currently running
on nothing more than a wing and a prayer.
He’d already driven all day and well into the night, the same as the day
before, he was thoroughly sick of the road and the last road sign had only
offered him the promise of a hot meal and a hard drink but he followed it
nonetheless.
He’d left Sam at Stanford three days ago and his father back at Green Bay,
Wisconsin a week before that. They’d been checking out a supposed haunting when
Sam finally worked up the balls to ask for a ride to California. After hours of
kicking and screaming, Dean had stolen a car and declared he’d take Sam,
leading to yet more shouting and a promise that if Dean wasn’t back by the time
the hunt had played out, John would move on to the next one without him.
Now Sam was settled and his father hadn’t called to tell him otherwise, so he
was heading back up to Green Bay, with the car threatening to stay in Nebraska.
He had half a mind to stay himself, for the rest of the night at least.
The promise of a hot meal led him to what looked like a large wooden shack,
dark and shadowed despite the neon sign on its roof. Harvelle’s Roadhouse. The
name lingered in the back of his mind, kicking up dust like he should remember
it. He shrugged to himself; they’d been back and forth through Nebraska so many
times he’d probably been here before.
There were several classic cars sharing the parking lot with his borrowed and
beaten up Plymouth, not to mention a line of bikes standing out front. This
would be the type of place where nobody would know the name of the guy next to
him, but everyone would know the barmaid’s name, everyone would offer her a
drink.
He was proved right when he walked through the door. No-one spared him a second
glance, not even when he pulled up a bar stool and sat down. He quickly
surveyed the crowd, just out of habit and found it to be made up of gruff men
and hardened looking women, the kind that would take your head off if they
caught you sneaking a look down their blouses, if their husband didn’t deck you
first.
The only easy smiles seemed to come from the staff, three women, all of whom
looked out of their depth busy but used to it, like they worked that hard every
night. They seemed to form a triangle of a waitress (redhead, mid-twenties and
curvy) and a duo on the bar (one brunette, slim but heavy on top, screaming
MILF and a younger, petite blonde, screaming jailbait). Each one graced him
with a smile as they passed by but they were the smiles they were giving every
customer, the I’ll be with you in a minute smile. He noticed rings on the
waitress and the older barmaid and admonished himself for even looking; he
didn’t have time to start anything, not even a one night stand.
“Can I get you something?” the young blonde asked him, pulling his attention
back to the bar.
“Sure.” Dean gave her a smile with the same low level flirting that he always
had on standby. “I’ll take a beer.”
“I.D?” she asked, her own smile flickering nervously like she was wary of
asking. “It’s nothing personal, just you look... young. Younger than most round
here.”
Dean nearly laughed at the hilarity of being told he looked young by some girl
that looked barely legal. She had to be though; the state law for selling
liquor put her at 19, minimum. Only three years younger than himself, he
reassured himself despite his earlier vow not to think like that.
“No problem.” He gave her another smile as an attempt to put her back at ease.
He took a card out of his wallet at random, it didn’t matter which one, they
were all fake.
“Thank you,” she said as she took it, glancing up with a curious, almost amused
look in her eyes. “Detective?”
“Yep.” Dean nodded, kicking himself for not checking it in case she expected
him to elaborate with a name to go with the rank.
She nodded to herself and handed back the card. “Are you with the local
Sheriff’s Department?” She asked as she turned, reaching down into a low fridge
to get his beer.
“Uh...no, I’m a specialist. Between cases,” he said, averting his eyes from her
ass as she looked back at him over his shoulder.
“Oh yeah? What do you specialize in?”
Dean took a second to scan the I.D he’d given her, just to make sure he wasn’t
going to contradict what it said. It also helped that now he had a name to give
her if she asked.
“Gruesome deaths,” he said with a bitter laugh, he wasn’t exactly lying there.
“Oh, really? That must be difficult, intense.” She straightened up and twisted
the cap off the beer bottle with her palm. An impressive trick for a petite
girl, a trick that had taken him a fair few broken bottles and sore hands to
master.
“Yeah, well, I’m a tough guy, I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can. Tell me, detective, do you hunt?”
“What, deer and stuff? No, not my thing.” Dean noticed a shadow pass over her
face, like she was studying him, looking for something and for a second; he was
worried she knew what he really did. Or perhaps she was some demon or fanger,
looking for revenge. She brought her hand up to her neck, toying absently with
a silver crucifix like she was reading his mind.
“Huh, you look the type.” She dropped the hand and held it out to him. “Two
twenty five.”
He took out a five and dropped it in her hand. “And one for yourself.”
“I would love to but I can’t be drinking ‘em as I’m serving ‘em.” She turned
towards a till, ringing up just the one beer.
“What about after?”
“I’m closing up tonight.”
“After that?”
“Can’t drink in a closed bar.”
“You can if you’re on the inside.”
“You don’t quit, do you?” she laughed, slipped the change into her apron and
started towards the other end of the bar. “I’ll think about it.”
-x-
Jo ran a cloth over the bar, wiping away a nights worth of split drinks and
ring marks. It was winding down now, the casual drinkers had gone home and the
drunks had been chucked out. Only the few with nowhere better to go were still
nursing drinks. And the supposed detective was one of them.
She knew he was a hunter; he had it written all over him, just like every other
hunter that walked into the place. She’d been more confused about why he’d
pulled the fake name and the pretend cop act with her. Perhaps he didn’t know
their rep.
Jo smiled to herself, glancing up at him again. If he didn’t know about the
Roadhouse, maybe he didn’t know about her, maybe he didn’t know about her
mother and her strict rules. That would be good. Every local boy was too scared
to give her the time of day because of her mom. And the ones that weren’t
scared of her mother were scared of jail time.
But this one, he was from out of town and he’d been awfully keen on buying her
a drink. Maybe he hoped it’d get her out of her pants. Maybe it would. He
didn’t need to know she was just a little shy of seventeen with a mom that
would geld him for so much as looking at her too intently.
“I’m heading up now, you’ll be ok?” Ellen asked, her voice close to Jo’s ear,
making her jump guiltily.
“I’ve closed a hundred times, I’ll be fine,” Jo turned to kiss her mother
goodnight. “Besides, anyone tries anything; I’ll kick their ass so fast they’ll
see little birds.”
“Alright, night.”
-x-
Just over an hour later, he was still sat there, only on his second beer but he
was sure making them last. She considered going over to him then, offering him
another but closing time was in twenty minutes, she decided to let it play out
instead.
She walked over to the bell, taking the rope in one hand and swinging it, the
clanging almost deafening her. “Last call, gentlemen.”
She waited for the short burst of activity to die down as everyone got in one
last beer or shot and headed back to their tables before she approached the
guy.
“One for the road?” She set two tumblers on the bar, not quite as subtle as
she’d have liked to have been but the last few customers were drifting out, not
really paying attention to her now she was no longer serving.
“I had hoped to avoid the road for a little longer,” Dean said but took a glass
anyway.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Jo took a bottle from the shelf behind her and started
pouring, measuring out a double Scotch by eye. Dean looked her over again, she
looked young, unbelievably young but she knew what she was doing like she’d
been pouring drinks for a decade. He almost asked before he stopped himself,
asking things like that usually pissed girls off and he liked his chances.
“I don’t know, everyone else seems to have left.” Dean gestured round the
recently empty tables.
“Not everyone. You’re still here,” Jo pointed out, taking a sip from her glass.
Dean watched her lack of reaction at the burn of a neat spirit. She’d
definitely done this before; he was safe he assured himself.
“So I am. And you’re not throwing me out.”
“So I’m not.” She swallowed the last of her drink, giving him a coy smile
before she put the glass down and started walking.
He followed her with his eyes as she walked the length of the bar and then
ducked under it, resurfacing on his side. She didn’t go back to him though;
instead she headed towards the jukebox, hit a few buttons and gave it a good
kick, bringing it to life and filling the air with the opening guitar beat of
Rocky Mountain Way. Dean wondered if that was for his benefit.
Jo made her way round the tables, collecting glasses, four in each hand and
walking in beat with the song, the same thing she usually did when she was
closing up alone.
On her third trip back to the bar, Dean moved to stand behind her, catching her
between his body and the bar. “Now you know you’re being a tease.”
Jo smiled to herself, pleased that it had worked and worked so quickly. She
hadn’t exactly had an open playground in which to practice her seduction
techniques.
“Oh, am I?” She pressed back against him, her hips still swaying with the
music.
She was answered with lips on her neck and hands slipping around her waist and
over her stomach. Her breath hitched and nerves jangled in her belly but she
leaned further back into his body, baring her neck even more, encouraging him.
His hands drifted down to the zipper of her jeans, metal scraping metal as it
came down.
But then he hesitated and for a second, she thought her luck had run out, he’d
come to his senses and realized she wasn’t worth the risk – either that or her
mom had heard them and had her shotgun digging into the back of his skull but
she craned her neck around and saw no-one else.
“You’re up for this?” he asked and she found herself hesitating too. Give any
bloke a free pass at her and they’d have their pants round their ankles so fast
they’d literally trip over themselves to get to her. They’d never risk asking
twice.
“Yeah, course; I let you stay, didn’t I?” Jo said, her mind certain even if her
voice cracked with uncertainty. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, and Lord,
did she want him, she just had nothing to go on. Was she doing this right? Was
there something she was meant to do or say to prove she was ready? Were there
magic words one had to utter other than please, have your wicked way with me,
sir because she didn’t know them.
She kissed him instead, putting her whole body into it, curving against him and
turning in his arms until it was her back against the bar. To her relief, he
didn’t ask again and she didn’t need to tell him what she wanted of him, he
knew. He no doubt wanted the same from her.
She pushed her tight jeans down; finishing the work he’d started, until she
could kick them away with her boots. If anyone came down now, they’d be no
explaining what she was doing but on the plus side, she didn’t need to tell the
hunter either. It was like a glowing welcome sign had been lit above them.
Please come in.
He slid his hands over her skin, grabbing her ass and lifting her onto the bar.
It was still damp and sticky but she didn’t care. She’d sat on it a thousand
times, to put herself on a level with the grownups but she’d never felt so high
as she did now, her legs wrapped around the waist of some out of town stranger
who need never meet her mom or know her name. She was free.
The hunter’s hand slipped up her thigh, the other working on the hem of her
cami top. She wasn’t quite sure where to place her own attention; she felt very
much like she had been served a feast but all the dishes were foreign to her.
She didn’t know where to begin.
It was the hand on her thigh that won out, pulling down her panties until they
dropped off her feet, over her boots. The feel of the bar under her was even
stickier now but she cared even less, the hunter’s fingers were on her clit,
drawing awkward circles where the angle between them was less than perfect. She
pushed herself back on the bar to give him leverage but he reached for her knee
instead.
“How about on the bar?” he asked, gripping her knee to convey what he meant. It
still took her a second to get it. He was suggesting she kneel on the bar,
completely exposing herself. She hesitated, not sure she was that self-
confident but then, screw it, she thought, it wasn’t like she’d ever see him
again.
She drew her legs and feet up onto the bar, the heels of her boots scuffing the
much scuffed wood. The bar was hard on her knees so she spread them further,
opening herself wide and blushing at what he must be seeing. She’d never let
anyone get more that a flash of tit or a quick glimpse up a skirt before. What
if he didn’t... like it, what she had to offer?
But she was quickly assured by his hitched breath and a noise that sounded like
his most primal urges were fighting his self-control. She didn’t worry which
would win, he’d been nothing but gentlemanly with her so far and she wasn’t
sure there was anything that would make her push him away now she had him
hooked and landed.
She felt his fingers on her clit again and spread her knees a bit further,
giving him easy access. One finger slipped inside her cunt while his thumb
stroked her clit. It didn’t hurt like some girls claimed but then she’d had
plenty of practice on her own. She watched him over her shoulder and in the
mirror over the bar in turns.
She also caught sight of herself, face glazed over in pleasure and her body
pushing back onto his fingers, feeling them curl inside her, bringing her
closer and closer to climax until she was sure she’d come. But just as she was
thinking it couldn’t possibly get any better, she felt his hand pull away,
coming to rest on her ass instead. For a second she was sure she was going to
get spanked, he gripped her so tightly but his other hand came to rest on the
other cheek and she pushed away the association.
He spread her open, licking along her cunt in broad strokes, never lingering
too long, just enough to keep her swaying on the edge, wishing for more. If the
bar had been sticky and damp before, it was nothing to the feeling of being
eaten out. She could feel her own wetness; she was no stranger to that but to
feel more, the heat of someone’s mouth on top of her own heat, the wetness of
saliva against her own wetness, there was nothing quite so gross sounding but
oddly so hot in world.
She pushed herself back against his face, bracing her hands on the bar. She
needed more. She needed everything. She needed to come. Graciously, he gave it
to her, one rolling wave of pleasure after another, stronger than any orgasm
she’d gotten by herself, for sure.
She sat back for a moment, her ass digging into the heels of her boots and her
fingers curled around the edge of the bar. She waited expectantly, surely it
was the logical step to go from going down on a girl to having sex with her,
what exactly was it they were waiting for?
She straightened her back and looked into the mirror. Her cami top was tight,
hugging her curves. Her hair was down, framing her face. There was a slight
sheen of sweat over her skin but nothing worse than on a hot night. She’d
shaved her legs that morning in the shower. She regularly waxed her bikini
line, just in case. What the Hell was the hold up?
She turned around, trying to stay as graceful as she possibly could. “Is that
it then? Not that it wasn’t great, you know, but I thought we could...”
“The bar is too high,” the hunter said and Jo cocked her head to the side.
“What?” she asked, wondering if there was some scale of prettiness that she
wasn’t living up to.
But the hunter smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to the
edge of the bar. “You’ll have to come back down here.”
“Oh,” Jo said, the realization hitting her on the head with a thump. “Sure.”
She pushed herself off the bar, landing with a clack on the floor. It put her
back at a height disadvantage but when she looked up at him, he swept her hair
away her face and kissed her again, and she decided she didn’t actually mind
all that much being short anymore.
Jo reached for the buckle of his belt; sure she couldn’t go wrong now. Her mind
spun through a cycle of positions she’d seen in movies or read about in her
mom’s old Harlequin’s but she lacked a proper bed or even a strong table, all
the ones in the bar were cheap flat-packed ones that were easily broken and
easily replaced. All that left her was the bar, already ruled out, the walls,
an experience that sounded hot but the more she thought about it, the less it
appealed, and the floor, even less appealing.
She bit her lip. She couldn’t take him upstairs, she was lucky enough for this
all to pass unnoticed in the bar. Making a split second decision, she
remembered the office and the sofa in it. It was more often used by friends and
hunters alike that needed to crash for the night but she was sure there was
nobody in there tonight.
“Come on, I know where we can go,” she said, picking up her jeans in one hand
and pulling the hunter along with the other. The office was locked but she had
the keys in her pocket and it was no time at all before she’d unlocked it,
snuck both of them in and locked it again behind them.
As soon as she was through the door, she resumed her work on the hunter’s belt,
eager to get back to it. She walked backwards towards the couch, sitting down
on it and yanking the hunter’s jeans down with her.
Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the outline of a hard cock right
in front of her but she didn’t slow down, instead she reached out her hand and
ran her fingers over it, getting to know it almost. It was her first after
all... but he didn’t need to know that.
When she felt she’d learned all she could with gentle brushes of her
fingertips, she pulled down the waistband of his boxers, removing the last
barrier between his skin and her touch. She wrapped her hand around it, like
she’d heard she should and moved her fist over the surprisingly silky skin. It
was easy really, though she didn’t doubt that other more experienced girls
might do it better.
It was a simple progression from stroking it to bringing it to her lips. She
wanted to be able to say she’d done it all. Not that she had anybody she could
say it to, only herself. She lapped at it before taking it into her mouth,
experimenting with each often whispered about technique in turn, taking her
cues from what he seemed to like best; the constant easy slide into her mouth.
After a while, though she didn’t want to give up, her jaw began to ache and her
eagerness wavered slightly. It was all well and good but it didn’t seem to be
getting her anywhere and if it did get him off, they couldn’t have sex.
She pulled back slightly, hoping he’d get the message and a gentle hand under
her chin said he did. He bent down to kiss her and stayed bent down, gradually
getting lower and lower until she needed to fall back on the sofa to
accommodate him. She didn’t complain. Rather she pulled him down with her,
knowing this was the moment when it’d all happen.
And it did. After a hasty fumble with a condom he had in his jeans, her legs
easily fell apart either side of his body, one instinctively hooking over his
hip while he slid into her. It wasn’t too bad, she was still wet from before
and his cock was slicked where she’d sucked it. It just felt tight, like she
was clamping down on it, even though she wasn’t.
She knew he must have felt it too because he swore softly into her neck. At the
same time, she knew it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Yes, he might guess she
was a virgin but weren’t men always shouting about how they loved a tight
pussy.
She pushed the thought away. He didn’t seem to be like those men. Or like the
boys she knew. Or like anyone really. He was just a simple out of towner. A
blank slate. A clean canvas. He was anything she wanted him to be and as he
thrust into her, she found herself content with him as he was. She didn’t need
the racy scenes in books or the fantasies of boyband members and tv stars. She
had a hunter, with a hunter’s body and a hunter’s stamina. That was more than
enough to get her hot.
She could feel herself building up again, easier this time. It only took a few
hits to the right spot to start it off, like it had been waiting in the wings
all this time. As his own pace faltered, he reached down between them to stroke
her clit, as if he knew she needed that little push again and he gave it to
her.
When she came back down, she found her hands in his hair, running through it,
not even conscious of what she was doing. He’d finished and was lying on her
chest, holding his own weight so he didn’t crush her. After a moment, it became
awkward. She wouldn’t have minded if he could stay and they could sleep like
that but she knew they couldn’t. To put of the inevitable was torture. She was
more nervous now, about sending him away, than she had been beforehand.
“Uh,” she started, thinking up an excuse. “I really do need to close up the bar
now.”
The hunter lifted his head and nodded. “Oh, right... hold on.”
He managed to get his knees underneath him on the floor and do up his jeans
while she pulled her own on, congratulating herself on bringing them with her
rather than just taking the keys out of her pocket. It was bad enough she’d
left her panties behind, she didn’t think she could manage a walk of shame
butt-naked.
When they were dressed and slightly less disheveled looking, she led him to the
door, dimly aware she was walking a bit funny. She didn’t ask him what he’d
done with the condom; she just made a mental note to check the office before
she went to bed. He didn’t need to know the risks she’d taken or the trouble
she’d be in if all this came out.
He opened the door and lingered on the porch. “Can I get your number?”
Jo stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “You know where to find me. And this
way, we don’t have to pretend you’ll call.”
“What about your name, at least?” he asked again and she swallowed. Sex with a
perfect stranger. He couldn’t even spread rumors around about her that might
get back to her mom.
“Nah,” she decided, feeling much calmer. “Let’s not spoil the illusion. Let’s
just be... this.”
She leaned up and kissed him, leaving him staring at the door as she closed and
locked it.
-x-
Years later, Dean pulled up to the Roadhouse. There was a slight niggling at
the back of his mind but he had too many other things to worry about. He’d
forgotten why he should remember it.
Jo never took it personally; she knew there had been a hundred other bars and a
hundred other blondes after her. There had been another hundred hunters after
him but she never forgot her first.
She never reminded him why he felt like he’d known her for years or his urge to
protect her but she never stopped reaching for another perfect night with him.
When the offer finally came, she turned him down. On the last night either of
them might ever have, she finally realized they’d already had the perfect
night.
End Notes
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