Fine Art Of Cocktail Mixing
Title: Fine Art Of Cocktail Mixing
Author xephwrites
Character(s)/Pairing: Dean, Dean/OFC
Theme: spn_30snapshots Table 07 Leave Me Unholy And Dirty And Beautiful
Prompt: # 27 rimming
Rating: pg 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: The line of seasoning on a Caesar is called what??
Warnings: minor swearing, really that's it.
Word Count: 891
Notes: For some reason, I had to go this route with the prompt. I don't have a problem with rimming, even though it's not for me. This fic is a result of a seven hour shift in insane heat with no customers all night long. Trust me, it could be way worse.......
~*~*~*~*~
“So you’ve never worked in a bar before?” The bar manager Sally asked with a raised eyebrow. Dean put on the best innocent face he could muster.
“No Ma’am,” he drawled. He resisted adding a wink. For a woman of forty, she was pretty hot.
“Fine,” she sighed and faced the wall of bottles behind them. “I’ll start you off easy. Just teach you the more popular drinks here.”
“Well, you don’t need to show me what a rum and Coke is,” he quipped. She rolled her eyes. Dean kept quiet. His humor was obviously wasted on her.
She reached up to the row of hanging glasses above their heads. She pointed at one style before removing it from the long wooden slot.
“Caesars are pretty basic,” she said, holding the glass in front of his face. “It’s served in this style glass. The only time you put it in a different glass is if someone specifically asks for it.” She turned on the tiny faucet to the left of the mixing area.
“Why are you washing it,” Dean asked, one eyebrow raised.
“You need to get the top wet so the rimmer will stick,” she said as she shook the excess water off the glass. Dean bit his lip and snorted. She shot him an unimpressed look. He tried another innocent look.
She flipped the lid off of a small round container. Inside was a mixture of different seasonings. She placed the edge of the glass in the mixture and twisted it slightly.
“Give it a little twist, and make sure the edge is evenly covered in the rimmer mix,” she said, holding up the glass.
Dean could not hold back the small bark of laughter. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“How old did you say you were again?” She asked suspiciously.
“Twenty one, Ma’am,” Dean said, trying to stop from smiling. At least this time he was telling the truth.
She shook her head and walked him through the steps of the rest of the drink.
She walked him through the steps of making Margaritas as well. Everything was going well. She ran the fancy stemmed glass under the tap once more and flipped open another rounded container.
“Like the Caesar, you need to make sure that the rimmer is even around the edge of the glass,” she said as she twisted the glass in the salt. Dean laughed again.
Sally placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at him.
“Alright, cowboy. Care to share the joke with the rest of the class?” Her voice was tinted with exasperation. Dean looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well, uh,” he started. “I can’t help but laugh every time you mention the word rimmer.” She rolled her eyes.
“Got that much figured out,” she retorted. “Care to explain why?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her in disbelief.
“You don’t know,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. She shook her head. Dean rubbed his neck once again.
“Uh, well, uh,” he said, nervous laughter sneaking in between words. “A rimmer is when someone, you know, licks your hole.”
She gave him a confused look.
“You know,” he said nervously. “Your asshole.”
“Oh,” she said. Dean watched as shocked realization washed over her face. “OH!” One hand went to her mouth as she started giggling. Dean burst into full out laughter.
“That’s disgusting!” She laughed. “Anyone ever tried that on me, they’d get kicked!”
“I know!” Dean laughed.
Their laughter died down as a customer walked in.
“Showtime, cowboy,” she smiled at him, giving him a playful nudge in the shoulder.
It was a busy night. Dean and Sally kept up a friendly banter all night, both of them giggling every time they made a Margarita or a Caesar.
At the end of the night, Dean waited outside with Sally as she locked the door.
“You got a ride?” She asked. Dean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Nah, gonna walk,” he said. “Staying over at the Willow Branch Motel.”
“Cowboy, I am not going to let you walk four miles at this time of night,” she said. She tipped her head. “I got a couch you can crash on, and you can walk back in the morning.”
Dean shook his head. “Can’t do that,” he said. “Don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not putting me out,” she said. She tugged on the sleeve of his coat. Dean followed her up the metal stairs that ran up the side of the building.
Once in the small apartment, she grabbed a spare pillow and blanket for him.
Dean stood in the living room, jacket off and hands in his back pockets. He had a lopsided smile on his face. She dropped the pillow and blanket on the floor.
“Who the hell am I kidding,” she muttered. She walked backwards towards her bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt.
“Just no rimming,” she said as Dean followed.
“No problem.”
Several years later, Dean and Sam ended up back at that same bar. Dean asked if Sally was still around. She didn’t work there any more, but popped in occasionally.
“I’ll have a Caesar,” Sam said to the bartender. “Light on the rimmer, please.”
Dean burst into laughter.
“For God’s sake, Dean, grow up,” Sam moaned.
~*~*~*~*~
Comments are loved!
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Author xephwrites
Character(s)/Pairing: Dean, Dean/OFC
Theme: spn_30snapshots Table 07 Leave Me Unholy And Dirty And Beautiful
Prompt: # 27 rimming
Rating: pg 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: The line of seasoning on a Caesar is called what??
Warnings: minor swearing, really that's it.
Word Count: 891
Notes: For some reason, I had to go this route with the prompt. I don't have a problem with rimming, even though it's not for me. This fic is a result of a seven hour shift in insane heat with no customers all night long. Trust me, it could be way worse.......
~*~*~*~*~
“So you’ve never worked in a bar before?” The bar manager Sally asked with a raised eyebrow. Dean put on the best innocent face he could muster.
“No Ma’am,” he drawled. He resisted adding a wink. For a woman of forty, she was pretty hot.
“Fine,” she sighed and faced the wall of bottles behind them. “I’ll start you off easy. Just teach you the more popular drinks here.”
“Well, you don’t need to show me what a rum and Coke is,” he quipped. She rolled her eyes. Dean kept quiet. His humor was obviously wasted on her.
She reached up to the row of hanging glasses above their heads. She pointed at one style before removing it from the long wooden slot.
“Caesars are pretty basic,” she said, holding the glass in front of his face. “It’s served in this style glass. The only time you put it in a different glass is if someone specifically asks for it.” She turned on the tiny faucet to the left of the mixing area.
“Why are you washing it,” Dean asked, one eyebrow raised.
“You need to get the top wet so the rimmer will stick,” she said as she shook the excess water off the glass. Dean bit his lip and snorted. She shot him an unimpressed look. He tried another innocent look.
She flipped the lid off of a small round container. Inside was a mixture of different seasonings. She placed the edge of the glass in the mixture and twisted it slightly.
“Give it a little twist, and make sure the edge is evenly covered in the rimmer mix,” she said, holding up the glass.
Dean could not hold back the small bark of laughter. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“How old did you say you were again?” She asked suspiciously.
“Twenty one, Ma’am,” Dean said, trying to stop from smiling. At least this time he was telling the truth.
She shook her head and walked him through the steps of the rest of the drink.
She walked him through the steps of making Margaritas as well. Everything was going well. She ran the fancy stemmed glass under the tap once more and flipped open another rounded container.
“Like the Caesar, you need to make sure that the rimmer is even around the edge of the glass,” she said as she twisted the glass in the salt. Dean laughed again.
Sally placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at him.
“Alright, cowboy. Care to share the joke with the rest of the class?” Her voice was tinted with exasperation. Dean looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well, uh,” he started. “I can’t help but laugh every time you mention the word rimmer.” She rolled her eyes.
“Got that much figured out,” she retorted. “Care to explain why?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her in disbelief.
“You don’t know,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. She shook her head. Dean rubbed his neck once again.
“Uh, well, uh,” he said, nervous laughter sneaking in between words. “A rimmer is when someone, you know, licks your hole.”
She gave him a confused look.
“You know,” he said nervously. “Your asshole.”
“Oh,” she said. Dean watched as shocked realization washed over her face. “OH!” One hand went to her mouth as she started giggling. Dean burst into full out laughter.
“That’s disgusting!” She laughed. “Anyone ever tried that on me, they’d get kicked!”
“I know!” Dean laughed.
Their laughter died down as a customer walked in.
“Showtime, cowboy,” she smiled at him, giving him a playful nudge in the shoulder.
It was a busy night. Dean and Sally kept up a friendly banter all night, both of them giggling every time they made a Margarita or a Caesar.
At the end of the night, Dean waited outside with Sally as she locked the door.
“You got a ride?” She asked. Dean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Nah, gonna walk,” he said. “Staying over at the Willow Branch Motel.”
“Cowboy, I am not going to let you walk four miles at this time of night,” she said. She tipped her head. “I got a couch you can crash on, and you can walk back in the morning.”
Dean shook his head. “Can’t do that,” he said. “Don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not putting me out,” she said. She tugged on the sleeve of his coat. Dean followed her up the metal stairs that ran up the side of the building.
Once in the small apartment, she grabbed a spare pillow and blanket for him.
Dean stood in the living room, jacket off and hands in his back pockets. He had a lopsided smile on his face. She dropped the pillow and blanket on the floor.
“Who the hell am I kidding,” she muttered. She walked backwards towards her bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt.
“Just no rimming,” she said as Dean followed.
“No problem.”
Several years later, Dean and Sam ended up back at that same bar. Dean asked if Sally was still around. She didn’t work there any more, but popped in occasionally.
“I’ll have a Caesar,” Sam said to the bartender. “Light on the rimmer, please.”
Dean burst into laughter.
“For God’s sake, Dean, grow up,” Sam moaned.
~*~*~*~*~
Comments are loved!
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