What you were was a prim and proper lady, raised by your parents to drink with your pinky out and say ‘how do you do’, you just never expected to fall for what they called riff-raff. You fell for Dean Winchester, a man with a disarming yet dizzying smile, rugged personality— oh, yeah, and he was a frequent visitor in an underground swing club in Harlem. You didn’t expect to fall head over heels for this kind of guy, and in vice versa as well, but he was a new thrill in the mundane.

Wow.

He’d taken you to the swing club, and it looked so damn happy, with people all around that seemed to know him well, music that got you smiling playing in the background. It was a whole new world for you, Dean knew, and he’d sure be happy to be your entourage in this sparkly new world.

Your look of wonder wasn’t lost on him, and it was pretty swell, how the hoity-toity from the higher-up neighbourhoods managed to be enamoured by a swing club. It was a place where you could say au revoir to whoever you were on the outside — maybe that was it — and you just needed to have your wild child side brought out. Well, if that’s the case, Dean ain’t one to shy away.

“S’ amazin’, ain’t it?” He grinned, guiding you in by the small of your back and keeping close— his presence so close by dizzied you, it always did, he was a right damn good charmer. And he prepared to taint’cha, as his lips brushed your temple with a hum.

“C’mon, baby.” Dean coaxed you to dance, lip then caught between his teeth, the all-you-can-drink booze making him feel drunk already, even more so how fuckin’ gorgeous you looked. Especially when he was gonna have this opportunity with you— he should’ve dragged your pretty lil’ ass here before.

This place was like the eighth wonder in the world, and by the end of the night, you’d be just like him.