Dean Barrett (oddsagainst) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2022-05-03 11:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | #june 2018, bailey, bailey x dean, dean |
Who: Bailey and Dean
When: evening, Thursday, June 28
Where: the carnival, Bailey's place
Warning: turns NSFW
Status: complete, Part 1
Maybe it was stupid to go back to the carnival the night after he’d spotted Rory DeAngelo, but part of Dean wanted to run into him again. He’d made some phone calls back home the night before, and he’d found out that Rory was indeed on the run from not only his own family, but the Genovese family too. That spelled big trouble for him, Dean was sure. He hadn’t been able to get a real clear answer of why the DeAngelos’ favorite son had gone on the lam, but it couldn’t have been something small, which meant Rory was probably in more trouble than he was. That put Dean at the advantage, especially since he hadn’t even given Rory his real name.
Dean had to think about it some more and do some planning. But until then, he felt like he could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel. This was an ace up his sleeve he hadn’t even known he would get, and it had just landed in his lap. He had to work out how to use it to his advantage, maybe get his debt forgiven and the target off of his back.
Feeling lighter than he had in quite a while, Dean risked it and went back to the carnival. He’d been having fun drinking and playing games before Rory derailed his evening, and he wanted to get back to that. He was in a pretty peppy mood as he walked down the wide row of games, a beer in his hand, and his mood shot up higher when he spotted a familiar face. It was probably weird of him to be chuffed to see the officer who’d arrested him only a week ago, but he was. “Hey! Officer Jansen,” he said as he approached the blonde woman at one of the game booths.
Bailey's first night out at the carnival had been abruptly derailed too, thanks to Kane's word vomit about Adrian Moretti. Her brother had left her a rambling apology on her voicemail, but Bailey had yet to respond beyond texting a quick okay. She knew she needed to say more, wanted to say more, but she was still angry. Angry at Kane for making dumbass decisions and angry at herself for being angry. It was Kane's life to live and it wasn't like they had grown up being BFF. They still didn't know each other all that well and Bailey honestly didn't think she had any right to be upset about what he was doing. So instead she was focused on work and when she wasn't working, she was out doing something. And now she was at the carnival on her own, blowing her money on rigged games and beer.
She was currently trying to throw a basketball into a hoop that was likely a quarter of an inch too small, her nearly empty cup of beer resting on the wood ledge beside her. It took her a second to register someone calling her name and Bailey sighed with mild annoyance as the basketball bounced off the rim again, onto the net beneath it.
"I'm off duty," she said before looking over to see who was approaching her. Dean Thomas Barrett. The Sheriff's brother. Bailey grabbed another basketball. "Hey, it's you. You look different without all of the swelling. Feeling better?"
She looked even cuter out of uniform, even with a dour expression on her face. That was okay, Dean’s smile was sunny enough for the both of them. So he liked to think, anyway. He stepped up next to her, glancing between her nearly-empty beer, her face, and the net she was trying to toss a ball through. “Hey hey, it’s me,” he agreed with a little laugh. Dean nodded and shrugged at the same time. “Yeah, well, I’m not in handcuffs and nobody’s punched me yet tonight, so ... definitely. How’s it going? Won anything yet?”
"The night's still young." Bailey smirked faintly and lifted the ball to try and focus. She wasn't drunk yet, or even buzzed, but she felt personally slighted that she had blown almost thirty dollars on this game and hadn't even walked away with something as stupid as a plastic duck. "No winnings. Just emptying out my wallet. I know how to throw a fucking basketball, but I swear to god they're too big for the hoops." It was the only reason she hadn't made a basket yet. It had to be. She was never on any school teams back in high school, but she knew how to play basketball. She even knew how to hit a damn baseball. But those skills weren't helping her now. "You alone?" Bailey asked, glancing at Dean before she threw up the basketball. It hit the rim and bounced away to the net. "Fuckers!" She grabbed her beer to finish it off. "Fucking fuckers."
Dean managed not to laugh, but he did have to grin at the colorful language, his eyes ticking to the guy manning the booth. He was staring out into some middle distance, seemingly not even paying attention to them, certainly unfazed by Bailey’s insults. It gave Dean a bit of a weird feeling, but he was about to try to start flirting with a lovely lady, so he couldn’t devote much brainpower to it. He tsked. “Too bad,” he said to her about her failed shot, shaking his head. “But yeah, I’m alone ... don’t think they sell whiskey sours here, but you want another one of those? Since you’re off duty and all.” That had been what she’d said, right? If he ever caught her out when she wasn’t working, he could buy her a drink? Dean had been pretty tipsy that night, but he was pretty sure he remembered that part.
With one hand on her hip, Bailey glanced at Dean just as she drank the last of her beer. He remembered she liked whiskey sours. He must have really appreciated the fact that she hadn't taken him to the station that night. With her cup now empty, Bailey turned and tossed it towards the nearest trash can. When it fell in, Bailey threw up her hands. No prizes for nailing a trash can shot. "Of fucking course. But yeah, since I just blew most of my cash on this damn game... I could use another drink." And she knew exactly where the booth was for it too, so Bailey motioned for Dean to follow as she walked away from the game. She was determined now to win something tonight. She was not going to let this carnival win. "What're you doing here alone?" Bailey asked, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
He made an appropriately impressed noise when Bailey made the trashcan shot, then chuckled as he fell into step beside her. “Enjoying the festive atmosphere, just like you, I guess,” Dean answered with a lazy grin and a shrug. “You know how rare it is that something like this rolls through town. Grady’s working and my niece had other stuff to do, so here I am solo.” It was probably just as well that Jen had already had plans, Dean wanted to drink tonight, and he couldn’t be the best uncle when he was drinking. While they made their way to the drinks booth, he polished off his own beer and tossed the empty into a bin as they passed it. It was time for another one.
Bailey wasn't going to judge because she was there alone too. It was probably sad and pathetic, but she honestly didn't care. She did a lot of things alone. That didn't mean she wasn't occasionally looking around, half-expecting to see Kane with Adrian Moretti, even if she knew that wasn't likely to ever happen. She could barely imagine Kane at a carnival, let alone with some guy he was... fucking? Whatever it was that was happening there. Bailey took a deep breath and refocused on Dean. "No childhood friends to pal around with?" she asked, more than ready for another drink. It was a shame they weren't serving hard liquor here. "Too many standing grudges?"
Dean cocked his head and gave her a look that was both amused and slightly confused. “Are you trying to make me feel bad about my social life, or ...?” he asked lightly, not really sounding offended. She’d been on duty the night they’d met, so being a hardass then seemed appropriate, especially since he’d been drunk and disorderly. But Dean was wondering now if Officer Jansen was just a mean girl by nature. Or if this was how she flirted. “I’ve got friends, just none I felt like calling up tonight. It’s not illegal to enjoy your own company, right?” They arrived at the drinks booth and got into the short line, and Dean pulled his wallet out. “Another beer? Or one of those Merry ... things?”
Bailey couldn't help but grin up at him. She certainly wasn't trying to be mean, or even flirt. But she had met him on the pier while in a fight with... old grudges. Maybe it was just curiosity. Sheriff Barrett was... well, Sheriff Barrett. Standing there with his brother, she was wondering just how different they were. "It's definitely not illegal, considering I'm here alone too. Myself and I get along really well." She didn't even have old grudges to avoid in town. Her friends were her colleagues and she couldn't even say they were really friends. Kane might be the closest thing to a friend she had, and he was her brother and that shit was complicated too. It took her a minute to realize what the Merry... thing... was. Some specialty drink. It looked fruity but it had rum. "I think I'll take one of those Merry things."
“You got it,” Dean said, flashing her a grin back. She was gorgeous when she smiled, but he got the impression she didn’t do it terribly often. Once it was their turn, Dean paid for their drinks -- a Merrymaker for Bailey and just another beer for him. He eventually had to drive out of there. As they stepped away from the booth, Dean kept both drinks in his hands for a moment. He arched a brow at Bailey and held up her Merrymaker. “So I kinda lied, this actually does come with a price,” he said, his tone slightly teasing. Dean just eyed her for a beat, then went on. “A request more like, maybe ... What’s your first name? Or do you want me to just keep calling you Jansen? Lady-Officer-Ma’am-Jansen, maybe?”
Bailey was about to reach for her drink when Dean spoke and she lifted her gaze to his face. She eyed him back with curiosity and amused suspicion. For a moment she really thought he might push his luck with her and she was prepared to knock that drink from his hand. But then he asked about her name and Bailey realized that he only knew her as Officer Jansen. "Let's keep Lady-Officer-Ma'am Jansen to when I'm on duty." Bailey definitely didn't want him to just call her Jansen, given it was Pierce's last name and she suffered through it enough. "My name is Bailey, so you can call me Bailey." She lifted a brow and held out her hand expectantly, another smile playing at her lips. "Drink?"
“Bailey,” Dean repeated, testing how it rolled off his tongue. He smiled and passed her drink over to her. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dean.” She already knew that, of course, unless she’d forgotten his name already, but Dean got the feeling she hadn’t. It wasn’t every day you partially-arrested your boss’s brother. He kept his eyes on her as he took a sip from his beer, then turned to start ambling away with her. “Did you grow up here?” he asked, his tone curious. “I don’t think I remember that name from school ... Bailey Jansen. But it’s been a lot of years and a lot of drinks since then, so ... apologies if I’m forgetting.” He let out a chuckle.
Oh she remembered his name. She could even remember how he said his name, with that subtle expectation that she would put two and two together and realize who he was related to. She also remembered that smile. The one that spelled Trouble. No doubt he used it successfully to get things he wanted, and often. "Dean Thomas Barrett," Bailey said before taking a sip of the drink in her hand. It was tasty for sure, though she probably would have liked some more rum. Bailey wasn't sure where they were walking to, but it didn't really seem to matter. There was plenty to look at. "I grew up here," she confirmed. "Owen is my maiden name. Bailey Owen. I don't know if you remember Pierce Jansen, or not. But he's my husband... ex-husband. It's kind of funny though, how small that damn school is and I don't remember a lot of people either."
He was mildly impressed that she remembered his full name, but maybe that was her cop brain at work. Or maybe she’d been ridiculously attracted to him despite her hard exterior, but Dean didn’t want to get too cocky yet. He tried to remember the name Bailey Owen from school, but so much from high school was kind of fuzzy for him. It had been a long time, and he’d done a lot of partying back then, and the two of them obviously hadn’t known each other well. It was so easy to forget the faces on the fringes. Dean did remember Pierce Jansen though, and his stomach gave a brief drop at the word ‘husband,’ but then Bailey corrected herself. Not that he’d known Pierce to be a bad guy, he was just relieved that she wasn’t still married. “High school is such a weird time. And it’s farther back than I like to think about. I do remember Pierce, actually,” Dean told her with another little grin. “So congrats on the divorce.” Dean had no bad memories of the dude, but dunking on someone’s ex was always kind of fun.
Before she could stop it from happening, Bailey laughed. It didn't surprise her that he remembered Pierce. They were probably closer in age after all and she didn't blame Dean for not remembering her. She didn't remember a lot of people from high school either. Shit had been weird back then... hell, it was weird now. And Bailey hadn't exactly been a social butterfly anyway. "We were married for a long time," she admitted before taking another sip of her drink. Bailey wasn't usually one for fruity drinks but this one was pretty damn good. "Bounced around the country before I wised up. Or before he wised up. I'm still not sure what happened there, only that it did. You been married?" she asked, glancing at Dean. She was guessing no there, but people could be surprising.
It was a very cryptic divorce description, and while Dean was curious about what exactly had happened, he knew it was very much none of his business. He could just be a nosy bastard sometimes. Still, he felt chuffed to make her laugh, because he got the sense that wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to do. “Me? Fuck no,” Dean answered easily enough, lifting his beer again. “I thought about it once or twice, but ... just never seemed like a smart idea.” He shook his head, paused, then added, “For me, anyway. Other people can do whatever with their lives, I just know it’s not for me.” He made too many decisions that he knew any sensible woman would leave him for, so it was better not to make those kinds of commitments. He made a disappointing enough boyfriend for most, he would completely fail as a husband, he was pretty sure. “You ever see yourself doin’ it again?” he asked Bailey, smirking faintly.
Well, at least he was pretty self-aware to recognize that he didn't want to get married. If Bailey knew then what she knew now, she would have never done it herself. But Pierce had promised to get her out of Point Pleasant, and so she went. Live and learn, she supposed. Dean's question prompted Bailey to huff in amusement. "Fuck no. Once was enough. You're smart to avoid it. My marriage was a disaster, but I've seen a hell of lot more that were practically horror films. That's one of the perks of being a cop. You get to see the shitty side of everyone and everything." Why was she talking about any of this? She didn't like talking about her marriage and she rarely talked about her job, unless it was in some official capacity. Not to mention she barely knew this guy. Bailey took another drink to try and stop her mouth, refocusing on something else. "Look at you, getting roped into such cheery company. Why're you back in town, anyway? I mean, really."
It was always both kind of sad and extremely validating when someone who’d been married -- or who was currently married, those were worse -- told him he was smart for not wanting to. It was rare for Dean to meet people who were happy in their marriage. Which sucked for them, but made him feel more solid in his permanent bachelorhood. Hell, even his perfect older brother who did everything right had ended up divorced. If Grady couldn’t make it work, who could? Definitely not Dean. He chuckled faintly over her description of being a cop, thinking of the way they met -- she’d definitely seen a shitty side of him. Though it hadn’t been the worst side, fortunately. “Hey now, I volunteered for this company,” he reminded her with a smile. “No regrets so far, I’m always down to listen to complaints about exes. And jobs. Makes me feel better about never going into law enforcement, I grew up watching my dad see the shitty side of everything.” He gave a shrug and sipped from his beer again. “I’m, uh ... back in town because right now it’s the best place for me.” He knew that was vague and she would probably say so, but Dean wasn’t eager to dive into all of his bullshit with her. He would just prove to her again that people were shitty.
Bailey recalled pulling up Dean's record while she had him in the back of her cop car. It was so strange to think of him as the Sheriff's brother. But she could understand that desire to go down a different path. She and Kane certainly had. Bailey wondered what Kane would think or say if it was her fucking some guy who'd nearly killed her before. Sipping more of her drink, she eyed Dean with subtle amusement in her gaze. "Ooh, elusiveness. I like it. It really adds to the whole... mysterious, heartbreaker persona you've got working for you." It was fine if he didn't want to delve into personal shit. They were at a carnival, after all. This place was supposed to be fun. "I do have to say, if Point Pleasant is the best place for you... I shudder to think about what's going on outside of this town. I came back because my mom was dying. I thought I would come back, take care of her until she was gone, then get the fuck out again. But she's still around. I don't know many people on their deathbed for four months, but she's definitely going for some kind of record." Fuck, she really needed to shut up. Bailey glanced around quickly and spotted a game booth. It was one of those water gun games, where you had to shoot the water right into the target hole and hope it moved your duck above it to the finish line first. Bailey touched Dean's elbow and gestured to the booth with her drink. "Want to play? We can wager."
Dean was well aware of all the implications when he said that Point Pleasant was the best place for him. Considering there were several men who wanted him dead, it felt true enough. This was his home turf, he knew the lay of the land, his brother was the sheriff here ... and he knew where he could disappear to, if he needed to. He was more than fine with Bailey thinking he was just in town so his brother could keep him in line or something though. It amused him to be called elusive, and doubly so when Bailey called him a mysterious heartbreaker ... was he that? Maybe occasionally, but Dean tried not to string anybody along who might have expectations of him. When Bailey went on to talk about her dying mom, it killed the jokes he intended to make about her choice of words and he looked a little startled as he looked at her face. Dean got awkward about a lot of Serious Adult Things, but grief was really a big one, and he had no idea how to respond for a moment. Luckily Bailey found a distraction for them herself, and he tried not to show all of his relief. “You mean, do you want to lose?” he challenged with a bright grin. The very suggestion of a wager made Dean’s insides prickle, even if he knew how stupid that was. He just loved betting. “So what’s on the table, then? I was gonna buy you drinks all night anyway, so ...”
Bailey did not like how loose her tongue seemed to be tonight. She had only two drinks before Dean showed up and bought her another, so she certainly wasn't drunk. She barely knew Dean and she barely spoke about personal matters to people she did know. Bailey had to deal with grief and anger and all kinds of emotion because of her job, but that didn't mean she enjoyed it. Compartmentalizing was something Bailey had gotten really damn good at over the years. Focusing on a silly carnival game would distract her brain for a while, surely. Besides, Dean was a stupidly attractive man. Stupidly attractive with a cocky vibe about him. Trouble. But when had Bailey ever avoided that? "Don't underestimate my ability to shoot a water gun," Bailey warned him. "And for the record, you have my permission to keep buying me drinks. Let me start out with the boundaries of our wager. Do you want something tame? Or are you all in?"
He still vaguely felt like he should say something about her mother, some sort of condolences or whatever, but Dean was bad at stuff like that and they were moving on anyway. He tucked it away in his mind until he found his moment to be sensitive. It was so much easier to flirt when things were light and fun. Dean would just have to make sure he stayed light and fun if he started losing. “Oh I’m all in, baby,” he said with another rakish smile. Dean set his beer down on the ledge of the booth and rubbed his hands together as he glanced over at the carnie manning the game. He didn’t even seem to be looking at them, just staring into some middle distance. Dean tried not to worry about it and refocused on Bailey instead. “Hit me with it, what do you want?” He quirked a brow at her that was only slightly suggestive, a smirk still playing with his lips.
Bailey really preferred Dean not say anything about her mother, especially since she had no idea why she had brought it up anyway. She didn't want sympathy or condolences. She had no use for them and they would only make her uncomfortable. Right now she was drinking and having fun and she wanted to win this game, only because Bailey loved to win and she hated losing more than anything else. It had just been a while since she had been able to do anything competitive. Bailey set her drink down as well and stretched her arms over her head before cracking her knuckles to warm up. "Let's see... you're all in... okay... I say we go best two out of three, to make it fair. You're all in, so I say... loser cooks the other person dinner." She arched a brow, her own smirk curving at her lips. "Naked."
She looked like she was getting ready to box, and Dean found it hot and funny at the same time. It made him want to see her at a real gun range sometime, handling her weapon like a pro. Why were dangerous women so hot? It had gotten him into trouble once or twice, and might just do it again. Dean got a fun jolt through his body at the last word, and he chuckled. There it was, that spark of interest, that was all he needed to know. “Two out of three, okay, okay,” he said, nodding a bit. “I’ve got a couple questions though, let’s be clear about parameters here.” Grinning, he crossed one arm over his chest, stroking his beard thoughtfully with his other hand. “Number one, are aprons allowed? Number two, can the winner also be naked, or is this purely a voyeur sort of prize? Number three ... are we talkin’ tonight or to be redeemed another time?”
Bailey wasn't surprised when he agreed. Considering how good looking he was, she didn't think she was really his type, but the promise of sex tended to get most men interested. Hell, her brain tended to work the same way too. "Okay..." She rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. "Aprons are allowed, but only to protect various body parts. The food has to be served without it though. Winner gets to choose whether or not they want to be naked too, or fully clothed... or partially clothed. There're plenty of options there. And... I think by the time we're done drinking here, I won't want to go anywhere near a stove, so why don't we say redeemed at a date in the near future?" That all sounded reasonable to Bailey, although she had no idea what normal parameters would be for naked cooking.
Dean made a pleased sound at the nudity options of the winner, then laughed a bit at the end. Not doing it tonight made him think it might not actually happen, but he was definitely game to find out, and it was a fun way to flirt in the meantime. “Sounds good to me,” he said, flashing Bailey a bright grin. He extended his hand so they could shake on it like a gentleman’s agreement, though he really just wanted to touch her. Outside of his natural drive to win at everything he played, he found that he really didn’t mind the thought of being the one in the apron -- and out of it. “No promises on the quality of my cooking, though, you get what you get,” he added, amused.
Bailey shook his hand, enjoying his grip. God, she hoped he knew how to use his hands properly elsewhere. "I never said the food had to be gourmet. Just edible... edible enough, anyway." Was she flirting? Was that a question she was really asking herself after deciding on nude cooking for a carnival game bet? Logically Bailey knew this was a very bad idea, but when did she ever make good choices outside of work? And maybe it was nice to have a good looking guy show her some attention. And he had such nice hands. Fuck, it would be a miracle if she didn't drag him off somewhere quiet later, bet or no bet. "You ready?" she asked, finally pulling her hand from his to pay for the game.
He couldn't miss how she held on for a bit longer than was necessary. Dean didn’t mind in the slightest. There was strength in Bailey’s grip, probably at least partly due to working with firearms for a career, and he found that super hot. Maybe she was going to kick his ass at this shooting game, but it wasn’t like squirt guns and real pistols were the same. His eyes still twinkling at her, Dean nodded and turned toward the game. “Start us up, my good man,” he said jovially to the silent carnie behind the booth. Dean reached for one of the water guns and got a good grip on it, changing his stance to start shooting when it was time.
Bailey had noticed that the guy behind the counter seemed... blank, both in the face and demeanor, but she was too focused on what was about to happen to really put a lot of thought into it. She picked up her own water gun and got into the proper stance. It would be just like the shooting range. Except with water instead of bullets. And a wooden yellow duck instead of a target poster. The loud ringing bell signaled the start and Bailey fired, trying not to laugh when the ducks began to wiggle and move. Laughing would shake her hands. She didn't even want to glance over to see how Dean was doing. It would ruin her focus. "Have you ever fired a real gun before?" Bailey asked, pleased to see her own duck moving smoothly toward the finish.
“Of course I have,” Dean answered with amusement in his tone. Shooting this water gun was nothing like shooting a real gun, but it was kind of funny she thought he might not have ever done that, growing up with a father and brother both in law enforcement. Of course their dad had taken them shooting as boys and teens, he’d wanted his sons to grow up capable. Little had he known that Dean would take that skill forward to use it for crime instead. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as he kept firing the jet of water at his target, his own little duck hurrying to catch up with Bailey’s. Just to mess with her, Dean angled himself a bit closer to bump his hip into hers, hoping to screw up her aim just enough.
Of course he had. Bailey wasn't surprised by the admission at all. "A man with a gun is one of my biggest turn ons," she admitted, not quite registering what she was saying, as she was so focused on shooting her little duck. Her mouth had been running away from her all night anyway, so whatever. Not expecting the hip bump, Bailey's aim shifted slightly from the target, letting Dean's duck catch up. She grinned, but planted her feet more firmly into the ground in case he tried it again. "Don't tell me you're the kind who's gotta cheat to win," she said, taking her gun in one hand to keep aim and reaching up to push Dean's arm. More flagrant than a hip check, but if he could play dirty, she could play dirty too. And it worked because her duck reached the bell first, some bizarre quacking coming through the rusted speaker behind it. She put her arms up in a victory "V". "If you're going to play dirty, then you've got to play dirty."
Dean laughed as she shoved at his arm. It threw his aim off enough that Bailey won the race, but he knew it would’ve been a close call anyway, so he didn’t feel too cheated. Especially not since he was the one who started the dirty play. Speaking of which, he was finding the way Bailey said ‘dirty’ to be pretty fucking hot. He laughed a bit more at her victory display, grinning brightly. Why did it always take some of the sting out of losing when he was losing to a beautiful woman? “Funny, women who can kick my ass at a wooden duck racing game are one of my biggest turn ons,” Dean teased her, though he definitely tucked that tidbit about Bailey’s gun fetish away for later. “Don’t count your ducks yet, we said best two out of three.” He watched as the racing ducks reset at the starting line, and Dean started to take aim again.
Bailey was going to make a quip about how she could probably kick his ass at just about everything, but then the game was being reset and she snorted at his joke before lifting her water gun again. Best two out of three. She would win this one and tell him to start planning her non-gourmet meal. Or maybe she would just take him to her car and drive somewhere private and break the law. The annoying bell rang again and Bailey began to fire - or rather, shoot - water into the duck. She wondered if Kane was around, strolling through the carnival with the guy who'd stabbed and drugged him. Wouldn't that be a funny sight? Probably just as funny as Bailey playing such a ridiculous game with a guy she'd almost arrested, her lower lip caught lightly between her teeth in concentration. At least she was having fun now, which was all she'd wanted when she and Kane came together earlier in the week. But no, Kane had to ruin it. And why was she thinking about any of that again? Bailey's duck had taken the lead, which pleased her immensely.
He tried to win this round fair and square for at least half of the race, Dean really did. He was honestly not opposed to being the one to cook Bailey dinner in just a tiny apron he would have to shed once the stove was off ... but he did love to win. Her shit talk about playing dirty flashed through his mind again, and Dean was suddenly struck with an idea that he impulsively acted on without giving it a second thought. Abandoning his duck, Dean half-stepped into Bailey’s space and darted in to kiss her on the lips. He knew it was a risk, it was possibly unwelcome and would end with a fist in his stomach, but it felt worth it, especially as that thrill of first contact shot through his body. He’d been so preoccupied with not being murdered that it had been a while since he’d kissed a woman, even longer since it had been a stranger. Dean kept it chaste so he wasn’t forcing his tongue into her mouth, and he could only last a handful of seconds before he had to grin a bit. How was that for playing dirty?
This time Bailey was fully prepared for Dean to try something. A push, a bump, even spraying her with the water gun itself. What she wasn't prepared for was for him to kiss her. It was startling and for a second Bailey couldn't even decide if it was welcome or not. The brief physical contact certainly convinced her body that it was welcome, but her brain was slow to catch up. It took some balls to kiss her like that and had he been anyone else... or maybe if they had been anywhere else, she might have grabbed his balls and tugged. But Dean was good-looking and cocky and Bailey had no doubt that plenty of women fell for that grin. Impulse was something Bailey understood though and she reached up to grip his shirt in her fist, keeping him there as she pulled back from his mouth and peered around him just enough to see her stalled duck. She pulled the trigger on her water gun again and didn't let up until the bell rang and the quacking began again, It hadn't taken long. "You owe me a dinner," she murmured before bringing her gaze back up to his face. "You want a ride home?" She had no real intention of taking him to Grady's, and she hoped he could read between the lines.
Dean stayed put while Bailey looked around his head to win the game, his own squirt gun practically forgotten in his hand. He really liked the way her hand felt fisted in the front of his shirt. He half expected the guy working the booth to yell at them or something, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Bailey’s words made him smile all over again. He could tell that she wasn’t talking about his home, since he was currently living with his brother. It made Dean wish he’d secured an apartment for himself already so they could have some privacy without imposing on her place, but oh well. It was too late now. “I brought my car, so ... I can follow you?” he suggested, cocking an eyebrow at her. Dean didn’t think she was dangerous to him, but he still liked to have his vehicle with him wherever he went, just in case.
There was relief when he said he brought his car, because that meant she wouldn't have to drive him home later. The less time she spent outside of the Sheriff's house, the better. "Yeah, you can follow me." Tugging at his shirt once more, she finally released him and set the water gun back down, grabbing her nearly empty cup from the wooden stand to finish off before they left. This was potentially a stupid idea, but Bailey had never let that stop her before. Dean definitely didn't strike her as the type to want to cuddle after, and there were zero "clinger" vibes at all, which was even better. "You sure you don't want to take a ride on something before we go?"
At least she didn’t have some weird fixation on driving him herself. As much as Dean enjoyed fooling around in cars, that nostalgic thrill wasn’t worth all the back-and-forth to retrieve a vehicle from across town when it came time to part company. That drive back to the others’ car could be awkward as fuck, and he wanted to avoid awkward. Dean got a happy little thrill at the shirt-pull and he let out a low laugh at her question. “Plenty of riding to be done elsewhere,” he murmured with that cocky little grin. He wasn’t going to postpone getting laid for the sake of some dumb carnival rides, that was for sure. Dean picked up the last of his own beer to drain as they walked away from the game booth. “This way I can scope out your kitchen too, see what I’ll be working with when I cook for you.”
Bailey knew all about awkward car rides and she was grateful that she didn't have to worry about that later. Even better that he didn't have his own place, because that meant Bailey wouldn't have to get dressed and drive home either. "You're extremely confident, aren't you?" she asked, nearly done with her drink now. This was only the second time they had spoken to one another, but it was a very different experience than the first encounter. "I know that has nothing to do with cooking, or my kitchen... just an observation. As for that part of it, you've reminded me that I should probably go grocery shopping." There was a very real possibility that they would fuck tonight and never talk again, so Bailey may not even get that dinner. But if it ended up still being on the table after tonight...literally...she would at least make sure she had something decent for him to prepare.
Dean supposed he was pretty damn confident, though there was some percentage of it that was bravado. That wasn’t something he was going to admit to out loud though. “What? No, if I’m cooking, I’m bringing the groceries too,” he said, lightly tsk’ing at her. Dean tossed his empty cup into a waste bin as they passed it. “Not that I don’t trust you to pick out a decent steak, but ... seems only fair since I’m gonna make a mess in your kitchen and not clean it up.” Dean grinned over at her. He wondered if she would want him to do the dishes too ... if this victory dinner even happened. Who knew if Bailey would want to exchange numbers or anything, or if this whole little competition was just a way to express interest in fucking him. Dean kind of hoped for the former, because god knew he could use some regular stress relief while he was in town.
Bailey finished off her drink and tossed it into the nearest garbage can. "I guess it's only fair that you cook and I clean." She had a dishwasher, though she never used it. Living alone meant she didn't make a huge mess and she tended to hand wash everything. Most of the time she ordered take out anyway, so anyone using her kitchen to cook would be a change from the norm. "Although I'm guessing you would look just as good in yellow rubber gloves as you would in an apron. I should've woven that into the wager." She shook her head. "Live and learn." Bailey had no idea what would happen later. She rarely tried to look ahead unless it was for work. She had taken Max home ages ago and hadn't really seen him since, but for catching a glimpse of him in town. Whether or not she would want to see Dean again, or vice versa, was really up in the air. "Seems like you've forgiven me for putting you in the back of my cop car."
Dean had never literally put on yellow rubber gloves in his life, and he didn’t plan to start anytime soon. He would clean, but if his hands ended up rough and dry from cleaning chemicals, so be it. Wearing an apron while he cooked naked was enough potential humiliation, and that was more of the fun kind. Dean wondered if Bailey even had one or if he was going to have to buy one himself, maybe something a bit frilly just for the fun of it ... “Eh, I know you were just doing your job,” Dean said easily. He felt miles away from the anxiety attack he was having in the back of Bailey’s cruiser, and he didn’t want to think much about it at the moment. “I see me being a drunk and disorderly case didn’t turn you off too much,” he added, shooting her a cheeky smirk. “I maintain that I didn’t start that shit, nor did I run, so I’m far more law-abiding.”
Bailey laughed. "You weren't a sloppy drunk and disorderly, so that worked in your favor. It was kind of cute, actually, that tone of your voice when you told me your name. Instead of do you know who I am? it was more... do you know who my brother is?. I appreciate the law-abiding part, though. I really fucking hate breaking up fights. I guess you got unlucky because you were the only one who didn't run." It didn't matter now. She hadn't actually arrested him and as far as Bailey knew, Barrett had no idea his brother had ever been in her cruiser. "Maybe that's just my thing. Being attracted to guys I've put handcuffs on."
Dean didn’t really feel unlucky, since Bailey had ended up letting him off. He doubted that any of those other schmucks could’ve managed that, but he had the benefits of being charming and being the sheriff’s younger brother. Dean chuckled over her comment on his tone, rolling his eyes a bit to himself. “Do you know who my brother is -- story of my life, lemme tell ya,” he said with a good natured laugh. It was much less of a thing in his adult life than it had been when they were younger, but Dean wasn’t above name-dropping to keep himself from getting arrested. “Handcuffs, men with guns ... you just like those bad boys, don’t you?” he teased Bailey instead, grinning at her.
"Oh believe me, if you ever want to compare brother-issues, I'm your woman. Throw in a dash of daddy issues and we could be kindred spirits." Knowing the Sheriff the way she did, it was hard to imagine them having a shitty father, but she could see where Dean might have problems, trying to live up to Grady. Bailey's issues with Kane weren't really about success or ambition. She didn't really know what they were about or why she cared so much. Trying to stifle the urge to laugh again, Bailey groaned instead. "But god, you're making me sound like a cliche. The bad boy attraction is supposed to end in high school. Except I married one... you'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now. You may be too charming to be a bad boy, though. Bad boys are supposed to be stoic and borderline mean. My car's just over there," she added, gesturing down the second aisle of the makeshift parking lot.
He had plenty of daddy issues, though Dean was willing to bet his were a different flavor than Bailey’s. Michael Barrett hadn’t abused his boys, he’d just had very high expectations that only one of them could reach. Dean was the disappointment, and some days he thought he’d accepted that, and other days it still got under his skin. It definitely wasn’t stuff he wanted to delve into right here and now with Bailey though. She was definitely more talkative than he would’ve guessed, maybe because she had a few drinks in her now, or she was just cooler out of uniform. He was enjoying it though, especially when she called him charming. Dean knew he was, but it was always nice to hear out of someone else. He kept strolling along with her toward her car, intending to walk her there before he veered off to get into his own. “See, there’s where you fucked up, bad boys aren’t for marrying,” he said, his tone still light and amused. “I think the stoic, mean-mugging ones are just trying too hard to look like bad boys.” They’d reached Bailey’s car, and he stepped in closer and reached for her waist. Dean turned her to face him and leaned in to lightly pin her against the side of the trunk. “I can be plenty bad,” he murmured, his eyes ticking between hers before he leaned in to kiss her more properly this time.
Bailey had no idea why she was so talkative tonight. Even when she was drinking she preferred to keep most of her thoughts to herself. Maybe it was because she had enjoyed herself, or maybe Dean was charming on a level even Bailey couldn't deny. That possibility made her want to find someone to slap her, because she was usually put off by guys like Dean. It was just an anomaly. A product of being in Point Pleasant too long, where it was fucking with her head. Maybe that's what was happening to Kane too, but at least Dean hadn't put Bailey in the hospital yet. A laugh caught in her throat when he pointed out that bad boys weren't for marrying. Wasn't that the fucking truth. Whatever response had formed on her tongue was forgotten as soon as she felt his hands on her waist. He had already kissed her once, though she knew that was more playful, something to fuck up the game. She hadn't kneed him there and she definitely wasn't going to now. Bailey parted her lips to sink into it, her hands gripping his waist before she could really register anything that was happening. Bailey knew she could be unapproachable and standoffish, so maybe she appreciated it when a guy actually took initiative. Or maybe she had to be in the mood for it. And she was certainly in the mood for it now.
It was always a relief to take a chance and not get pushed away -- or worse, and Bailey struck him as the kind of woman who would do worse to him if she didn’t want his advances. Dean could respect that, and honestly it was refreshing when women were bluntly honest, even with their fists and knees. He was generally pretty good at reading people, especially women, so that type of pushback rarely happened to him, but Dean still liked knowing for sure where he stood. And it seemed that Bailey was as into him as the other way around, at least for tonight. That was about as far ahead as Dean liked to think, too. Everybody really only had the moment they were living in, didn’t they? He wanted to enjoy as many of them as he could. Dean slipped one hand around to press against Bailey’s back, his tongue slipping past her lips to get a taste of her. It gave him all of those clenchy good feelings in his stomach, and his cock started to tingle, so he knew the chemistry was definitely there. Dean lingered at Bailey’s mouth for another moment or two, then pulled back enough to smile, drawing in a deep breath. “So I’ll follow you,” he murmured.
If there was something Bailey had always enjoyed, it was kissing. Yes, she loved sex too, but there was just something erotic about a kiss. A good kiss. Where the fluttering started in her stomach and warmth spread between her legs. Dean was a good kisser, but Bailey had already figured he would be. Her tongue enjoyed the soft pressure of his and her fingers curled more tightly into his shirt. For a moment, she forgot they were standing in a parking lot with the happy noise of the carnival behind them. As Dean pulled back, Bailey opened her eyes and tried to refocus. She had to drive now? Thank god she didn't live too far away. "Yeah, follow me," Bailey said before clearing her throat and releasing Dean so she could get her keys out of her bag. "If we get separated, I'm at Haven Park." She had to assume he knew where that was.
Dean stepped back so Bailey could get her keys out without him all up in her space, sliding his fingers into his front pockets. “Haven Park, got it,” he said, one corner of his mouth still turned up. This was going to be a lot of fun, he had a feeling. “Give me two minues, I’m parked a few rows that way.” Dean made a gesture in the right direction and backed up a few more paces, his eyes raking down over Bailey with no effort to hide it. Without another word Dean turned to jog off toward his car, eager to get going and reach Bailey’s apartment. It was going to be beyond fucking nice to have some real privacy, even if the space wasn’t his own. Within a couple of minutes he was circling his car back around to where Bailey had parked, ready to follow her home.
As soon as Dean headed off to his car, Bailey let out a long breath and watched him go. Then she climbed into her car, reaching for her cigarettes. After a brief hesitation, she decided to forgo a smoke on the drive home, not wanting to smell like nicotine when he kissed her again. Post-coital cigarettes were better anyway. As soon as she spotted Dean's car, Bailey headed off towards her apartment. She didn't think much on the way there, too eager to just get home and get Dean inside where there was privacy. Maybe later she would cringe at everything she had said to him earlier in the night, but for now, Bailey was focused on one thing and one thing only.
Finally she was pulling into her usual spot in the apartment's parking lot and she grabbed her bag before climbing out of the car. She waited for Dean before leading him to her apartment, her keys in her hand to make quick work of the door. "Do you want a drink?" Bailey asked as she unlocked the door and stepped into her apartment, moving out of the way for Dean.
Dean turned his music up while he was driving, his imagination already jumping ahead to all of the delicious things this evening might hold. Bailey was hot and a good kisser and fun to be around so far, so he could only imagine this encounter going well from here. After they’d parked at Haven, it took him an extra minute or two to get out of the car. He bent to reach under the seat to where his pistol was stashed, unloaded it and left the clip in the console, and tucked the gun into one jacket pocket. He just thought that if Bailey was a cop who liked men with guns, maybe she would like to see his. Dean climbed out and followed Bailey to her door, stepping in when she made room. “Yeah, I’d love one,” he answered, flashing her a smile over his shoulder as he walked further into her apartment. “Anything you got, I’m not picky.”
"Well, thank god for that," she quipped before closing the door and tossing her bag onto the chair nearby. Her apartment wasn't nearly as sparse as it had been when she brought Max home, but it still wasn't very cozy in the way it probably should have been, given how long she had been back in Point Pleasant. But it had the essentials and that's all she really needed. At least the space was tidy enough. Bailey headed for the kitchen and gestured to the couch. "Have a seat, if you want." He was there for a very specific reason but Bailey could still be hospitable. She thought about just grabbing a couple of beers, but instead, she poured them each a bit of scotch that she had shoved away in a cabinet. When she returned, she handed Dean his glass and then sat down to get her shoes off. "Feel free to take a look around the kitchen. Make sure you're acclimated with the oven." She grinned as she tugged one of her shoes off.
It looked like a nice enough apartment to Dean, but if he had his own place there wouldn’t be much to it either. He slipped out of his jacket before he sat down on the couch, draping it over the arm, then accepted the scotch with a murmur of thanks. “Oh I’ll get a good look before I go,” he told her with a little grin. “Make a game plan for next time.” Assuming that Bailey wanted a next time, of course. Dean felt a little like he was at an audition for his sexual prowess, though he was sure she wasn’t thinking of it like that. “Here, before it gets too weird, I brought this in to show you ...” Dean slipped his free hand into his jacket pocket to pull the pistol out, making sure to handle it by the barrel so Bailey didn’t think he was pointing it at her. “Clip is out, chamber’s empty,” he said as he offered it over. It was a nice handgun, a Barretta he’d bought a year or two back, and it had served him well. “Most cops I know are gun nerds.”
With her shoes off, Bailey took a drink from her glass, one brow arching as Dean pulled out a gun. It was instinctive to want to go on the defensive and her hand tightened briefly around her glass, prepared to bash him in the face with it if she needed to. But he wasn't pointing it at her, nor was he holding it in a threatening way so she very quickly relaxed. "I would rather be called a gun connoisseur than a nerd," she said, amused as she took the gun from him. It wasn't loaded either. She appreciated that he had taken all the right precautions to bring it into her place. "A Barretta. Very nice. You carry this around with you all the time?" Bailey asked, gripping it tight in her hand. It occurred to her then that he might have brought it in to show her because she had admitted that men with guns turned her on. Well, it was true, at least and she couldn't help but smile a little as she held it in her hand, wondering if he had ever had to use it, or how often.
Dean just grinned a bit, not inclined to retract his nerd statement. He was a nerd about a lot of things too, so he didn’t feel it was really an insult. “Mmhmm,” he confirmed as he took another sip of scotch. “Well, it mostly stays in my car right now. My niece is a teenager and Grady’s taught her gun safety and shit, but it still doesn’t feel right to have it in his house when I’m like, crashing there as a favor. But I carried it on me a long time in New York.” He wasn’t eager to get into the Whys of all that, so he hoped Bailey didn’t grill him about it. It was just a dangerous city, especially when one was involved in the businesses Dean was involved in. “Did you come from a law enforcement family, or ...? Just felt the calling to serve and protect?” He lifted his glass again, eyes on Bailey’s face.
Bailey could understand not wanting to tote his gun around Grady's house and she didn't think there was anything strange about having a gun in New York. The world was a dangerous place. Who was she to judge how people chose to protect themselves? Maybe she was curious as to where and why he had fired said gun, but that wasn't really any of her business, even if she could turn off the cop side of her brain. The mere thought of her family being in law enforcement prompted Bailey to laugh as she offered the Barretta back to Dean. "I came from a shitty family with a dad who hated law enforcement. When he found out that I had entered the police academy he called to ask why I wanted to join the pig pen. I'm not sure how my mom felt about it, because we barely spoke. And... that's not what you asked." Bailey shook her head, annoyed with herself all over again. "Long answer short, I just felt the calling to serve and protect. I wanted to do the opposite of what my dad did with his life. Fuck, it really sounds like I need therapy, doesn't it?" She chuckled and took another drink.
Dean took the pistol back and set it down on the coffee table, muzzle pointed away from them. He knew it was empty, but good habits were good habits. Maybe later in the evening she would ask him to pick it up again and do something kinky with it, who knew. Dean enjoyed women who embraced their freaky side. Everyone had one, in his opinion. He listened and returned his curious gaze to her as she talked about her family -- there were those daddy issues peeking through. Then Dean chuckled along with her and shrugged. “Man, the older I get, the more I think everyone needs fucking therapy,” he said, bemused. “Nobody gets through this life stuff unscathed, you know? I can relate, I wanted to be the opposite of my dad too. He just happened to be one of those in the pig pen.” Dean snickered at the phrase, sure it would irritate the shit out of his old man, and probably Grady too. He took another swallow from his glass, the stronger alcohol finally starting to make him feel loose and warm inside. “I think it’s admirable, though. The people like you who wanna be like ... good cops, to help people. I couldn’t do it, that’s for damn sure.”
Bailey found it amusing that Dean had shifted away from law enforcement because of his father and Bailey had been driven towards it because of hers. Dean's brother was an upstanding citizen too, and Bailey's... well, Kane was at the opposite end of the spectrum. Yet it seemed like they were both dysfunctional in their own way. Shrugging one shoulder lightly, Bailey drew her leg up onto the couch, relaxed now that she was drinking what she preferred. "Do you mean you couldn't help people for a living? Or just in general." She wasn't going to judge either way. Some people weren't cut out for the good samaritan bit. Some people looked out for themselves, something Bailey could understand. She may have been a good cop, but she wasn't a saint by any means.
“I couldn’t deal with the general public for a living in any capacity,” Dean answered with a laugh. “Much less when they’re all at their worst, you know? I’ve been a waiter a few times in my life, that was bad enough.” Maybe being a cop wasn’t such a hassle in a town this small ... but Dean knew as well as Bailey did that Point Pleasant came with its own unique set of challenges. He didn’t want to deal with any of that bullshit either. He could see how it was aging his brother as the sheriff, and Dean was sometimes tempted to try and talk him into leaving this fucking place again. But he wasn’t anybody to listen to for life advice. “So here’s to you patient motherfuckers,” he murmured, lifting his glass to Bailey before he downed the rest of it in one go.
Bailey lifted her glass and finished off the rest of her scotch as well. Dealing with people was difficult, but it was easier coming at it from a position of authority. Not everyone respected her, or treated her civilly, but she rarely let that bother her unless she was in a pissy mood. Bailey woke up, went to work, did her job, and went home. She wasn't trying to befriend the entire town and she didn't care if anyone liked her or not. Thank god she wasn't dependent on tips. Reaching over, she set the glass on her coffee table before reaching down to grip the hem of her shirt to pull up and over her head. Talking to another human being who wasn't a colleague or her brother was nice, but at some point talking could get her into trouble. And Dean had come home with her for a reason. Bailey would've been lying if she said she wasn't wanting to kiss him again, preferably with less clothes on.
That was a pretty quick way to make Dean forget the rest of the world existed at all. His eyes swept over Bailey’s body as she took her shirt off, lingering on the way her bra hugged her breasts. He supposed that worked well enough as a segue into the point of this visit, and he smiled lazily at her. “You tryin’ to seduce me, officer?” Dean murmured teasingly as he reached up to the back of his collar to grab his own shirt. He tugged it over his head and off, passing one hand over his hair as he tossed it on top of his jacket. “‘Cause it’s working.” Assuming this meant she wanted to get busy in the living room, Dean toed his shoes off under the coffee table as he reached for Bailey’s hand to pull her in closer with a soft “c’mere.”
Bailey let Dean pull her closer without hesitation. Her hands were already itching to touch him because his body was a thing of beauty. What she had seen of it so far, anyway. "I've found that showing my tits is the most effective seduction method I've got," Bailey said, shifting in even closer so she could kiss him properly now, one hand lifting to press against his chest and slide up to his shoulder. The alcohol was swimming wonderfully through her, leaving her relaxed and aroused rather than overwhelmed by self-loathing and loneliness. Dean's mouth tasted amazing to her and she already knew that he knew how to kiss. This was a hell of a lot better than anything she would have done with the rest of her night had she stayed alone.
Once she was close enough, Dean put both hands on her hips and pulled Bailey into his lap, guiding her to straddle him, wanting to feel her body closer to his. He was sure she was just being overly modest, because he’d been seduced even before he’d seen her tits, but his mouth was too busy to argue with her. He slid his hands up the sides of her thighs, squeezing here and there as he went, until he was finally caressing the bare skin above her jeans. She was so warm and soft, it hit him instantly how much he’d been missing this kind of contact. As he parted his lips to kiss Bailey deeper, he felt his cock start to tingle and swell inside his pants. He trailed his fingertips up her spine until he hit bra, then easily undid the hooks -- he’d had a lot of practice at that, at least.
Dean's hands felt so good on her body. As much as she loved sex, Bailey didn't generally think it was something she missed when she wasn't having it. But then she was kissing someone with strong hands on her skin and she wondered how she could go more than a few days without it. Bailey settled comfortably on his lap, enjoying the feel of his crotch nestled between her thighs. His tongue in her mouth sent fresh waves of arousal through her and she was glad that she didn't have to stop kissing him to get her bra off. Once it was out of the way, Bailey ran her hands down his chest, wanting to explore his body just a bit more before they got rid of their jeans.