11:00AM | Blue Diamond Cafeteria ( open | Duffy )

[Dean Winchester]

The bell over the door rings and hoo. Dean’s suddenly out of the cold and inside where it's warm, not too bright. Yeah, he needs it. Light breeze of Glenn Miller swirling the room, smooth trumpets to cover the white buzz of all that sweet diner chatter. Nice.

Six hours. Oh boy. Six just to get back in to town from the stupid, rat infested motel they found upstate. But they’re in Hollywood, Dean’s had his shower and shave and man, is he feelin’ twinkle toe’d tonight.

He brushes the snow off his coat and takes himself a big, old seat at the counter and he’s right behind her. Man, he’d know that perfect figure anyplace, those blonde curls and crooked little pokey-out ears. Dean smirks and shovels the salt shaker across the counter, one hand to the other, “Got any specials?”

[Buffy Summers]

Every time that bell rings it's just the badly lit diner's queue to roll out the red carpet for one more rude customer who won't tip, and one more time Buffy has to smile and wave and be the dutiful waitress.

She's refilling the last of the salt shakers, her back facing the counter where a small but stupidly noticeable board listing the specials lies above her head. Is it really that hard to look, she asks herself for the umpteenth time, about to turn around and make with the welcoming just like she'd rehearsed before suddenly and unexpectedly being struck by the nostalgia bus.

Buffy can see him now, even with her back to him. Gorgeous green eyes, an infectious grin all topped off by the smug-est of smug looks in all of smug-land. "Well, that depends..."

She knows how to play it cool, too. Turning around with one very ladylike hand on her hip, while the other's reaching for her pad and pen. "How much pie you planning on ordering, Winchester?"

[Dean Winchester]

Ya know what else was better in Dean's day? Dresses. Yeah he likes a tight waist on a girl but where's the shimmy? Right, okay. He was just a kid in the twenties but dammit, he remembers!

Would Buffy ever look good in a shimmy dress. Would she, ever. Kapow!

Dean's just staring like a frickin' letch. Watching her turn around, wetting his lips. Then he looks up at her beautiful face and, oh man. She does not look thrilled with his grand entrance. He's been gone awhile. Wow, makes sense.

With a nervous chuckle, Dean passes the salt shaker from one hand to the other and shrugs at her, "Awright, okay. I deserve that but I told you I was coming back, right? Ah? So, man of my word."

[Buffy Summers]

"After establishing a big case of radio silence?" Buffy not one to hold grudges, unless of course you're Faith, but she's not one to let things slide, either. Waltzing into somebody's work to make with the big surprises after disappearing into the ozone might score high on the chart for most girls, but trust this one when she says she's happy to brush him up on his Buffy 101. "You don't write, you don't call. Doesn't really rank high in the woo category."

She drops the pad and pen onto the counter, exhaling a casual sigh and there's nothing external giving away the fact she might just be happy to see him. "So, just decided to stop by? Is there some kind of nasty evil brewing, should I beware?"

[Dean Winchester]

What the heck. Where the hell is his great big kiss? There ought to be a law cause oh boy, she's really beating him up. Oh yeah. Whatever. Dean deserves that too. Heck, he deserves more than that but he's not charmed by it. Dammit, nobody wants what they deserve.

He leans on the counter and moans at her, "Come on, Babe. Don't be that way, hah? I said I'd be back, I'm back." Oh boy, does he ever mean business, "You know I had a family emergency."

[Buffy Summers]

"Right, emergency." Buffy remembers the drill, but what she's getting at is a little more cryptic than that. When you spend the whole summer with a girl, the least you can do is pick up a sodding phone just to give the heads up that you're okay or I don't know, alive. "Well, in my world those are taken a little more seriously. You should have called."

In diner terms, a Buffy special. Smart-ass-ery with a side of having a point. She's jotting something down onto the padded paper, but it's not Dean's usual order. Nope, just her new address and flat number because it's feeling like a generous kind of morning. She rips it off and holds it out for him to take with that small twinkle in her eye. "But luckily for you, I kind of enjoy being owed favours. It's good to see you, Dean."

[Dean Winchester]

"Yeah, called where? Hard to keep tabs on you, Babe." Aw, dude. Dean's in so much freakin' poop for this. He knew he should've sent a goddamn post card but then again... Maybe Buffy likes the disorganized mess type. She sure as hell has a crap load of patience.

Dean only gives the pies a passing glance. Hey, Buffy's a beaut and he's real gone on her but they got Dutch apple and he's only human. He drums on the counter and takes the note, shoving it in his coat pocket with such a fuckin' smirk. Then he goes and winks with the wrong damn eye, "Brazen hussy. When you get off tonight?"

[Buffy Summers]

"Actually, i'm..." Buffy's about to explain her double shiftiness when one more hillbilly interrupts asking for the specials. She supposes she should swallow her pride along with her frustration, but between that, the crazy health code violations and Mr tall, dark and available, those extra shifts were just gonna have to find a way to work themselves. "You know what? Ask the manager." She lifts her apron off over her head, tossing it aside before grabbing her jacket and pointing towards the board with all the specials on written in white chalk. "And while you're at it, tell him to make a bigger sign."

Heading towards the exit and about to pull open the door which signals the ring of a bell and her resignation, Buffy realises she's a party of one and turns towards Dean with a little smugness on her behalf. "You coming?"

[Dean Winchester]

Dean's face is comically amused whenever his lady bucks the human world system for her own pleasure. He gives the guy sitting next to him the raised eyebrow routine and kicks off the counter at a comfortable jog. He's getting pretty damn lucky, on account of he's about one of the only hunters in L.A. who knows what Buffy is and that earns him some wiggle room. Man, oh man, he loves being the only game in town.

He's up for a night on the town and, oh boy, is he ever up. Buffy feels good when he tucks her against him, wraps her up in one arm and they're out the door, "You're a damn pistol, Babe." he kisses those words against her hair, finding the handle to squeal the car door open for her, "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

[Buffy Summers]

If someone told Buffy early hours this morning she’d blow off a 14 hour shift to go hang out with Mr tall, dark and handsome, she’d probably of remembered to bring a change of clothes. Or at least a lipstick to touch up. Anything to relinquish that over-worn tired waitress look, but by the feel of things, she wouldn’t be needing it.

“You sound surprised.” She pauses at the foot of the passenger door, taking a moment to gaze at Dean and there’s an added playfulness to her smile, as if hinting there was a lot more than where that just came from. But as for the mystery that is Buffy? Well, that was just something he was going to have to stick around for. “So, now you’ve finally got my attention. Where exactly do you plan on taking me?”