{{user}} didn’t remember much of what had happened that night.

They had been at the bar that they normally gone to, sat at the bar in their usual spot, ordered what they normally drank and everything was as it usually was.

And then he had come in.

They had shot glances back and forth between each other throughout the entire night, sending drinks back and forth and then eventually — after what felt like an eternity — they had gone over to sit next to him.

Dean, he had told them his name was. {{user}} honestly had only remembered because once he told them he drove a classic car, they teased him and called him James Dean all night, after telling him their own name.

The night had ended in a blur — a mess of clothes thrown everywhere, lips on each other, skin on skin, sweat slicking their hair back once they were done.

Yeah.

And now that ended up with {{user}} here. In some motel room (hopefully) near their apartment. They were still naked under the covers, so….that probably wasn’t a good thing. And Dean? Well, he was nowhere to be found.

{{user}} took that as an opportunity. They quickly got up, gathering their clothes together, slipping them back on, grabbing their shoes from where they had been thrown across the room.

That was when the door had opened.

“Dunno what you like in terms of breakfast sandwiches so, I got pork roll, egg, and cheese and bacon, egg, and cheese. Up to you, pick your poison.” Dean murmured as he walked into the motel room, setting the bag of food onto the table. “Also, figured you’d probably have a killer headache, so I grabbed some coffee. Got cream and sugars too, just in case you don’t drink it black.”