Summary: AU Latin Ballroom isn't meant to be dangerous. Dean just wants to meet girls. Girls who disappear. Until tough guy Sam arrives with a shotgun and a sneer, ready to kick ass. Whoa!
BadassLoner!Sam Dancers!Dean+Ruby2 mild slash

Dangerous Ballroom by frostygossamer

The next morning Sam emerges from the basement bruised, bitten, bloody and beat. He barely gets back to his motel in time to crash out on his bed, and he's snoring before his head hits the pillow.

He dreams about Troglodytes, big trogs, small trogs, guy trogs, chick trogs, trogs in sequins, trogs in lame, trogs tripping the light fantastic on the dance floor, trogs gyrating erotically together. Gross! He wakes up in a cold sweat.

God, that's freaking obscene. So he tries to go back to sleep, thinking of something more appealing than the Slag Brothers' samba, like that foxy chick Ruby.

Ruby has a beautiful face. In fact she's devilishly gorgeous head to toe, and sexy, sure, and flexible, very flexible. They're both so damn flexible, supple, pliable, bendy even. How the hell did that guy get so bendy? That guy Dean, he's got a wicked goddamn smile...

Sam sleeps like a rock until noon. Then he packs up and jumps into his Impala ready to hit the road once again. Another job well done. Another bunch of innocents saved.

That is his lot, after all, to fight evil alone, to turn up in some God forsaken town, gank the monsters, exorcise the phantoms and leave without pay, without credit, even without thanks. Such is his lonely life.

There's not much beauty in Sam's life, not much companionship, not much love. He's always known there's no place in a hunter's life for some delicate little female. And that sucks!

But maybe it doesn't have to be that way?

.oOo.

Sam pulls over and fishes Ruby's number out of the glove compartment, where he tossed it yesterday. He takes out his cell phone and makes a call. Minutes later he's pulling the Impala up outside her motel. It doesn't take long for his ears to locate her room.

"All year I've been training for this damn championship, and rats, goddamn oversize mutant rats, close the place down in the first week", Ruby's shrill voice rings across the parking lot. "Nothing like this EVER happened to me when I was dancing with Damien. You are just bad luck, Dean."

"If I'm such freakin bad luck then you know where to go, baby. Just boogie your sweet little ass back to Damien and his daddy's money. Like I give a damn", comes Dean's reply from inside the room, followed by Ruby's suitcase flying out the door.

"Oh, you're gonna be sooo sorry you said that, Dean Smith. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't've been in this damn competition anyways. Who else would put up with you? You... you flake!"

"Trust me, I can take my pick of the chicks any day, bitch", he retorts. "And I usually do."

"Jerk!", Ruby mutters, dragging her battered case and stumbling across the lot to the office, where Sam is standing beside his Impala waiting. A sweet smile lights up her lovely face when she sees him.

"Oh Sam, you came. Gonna give me a ride back home, honey? Looks like my 'chauffeur' kinda quit on me", she giggles, fluttering her eyelashes.

Sam considers the attractive little minx in front of him and shakes his head.

"Sorry, babe", he says. "It's not you I came back for."

Ruby shoots him an acid look and staggers on past into the office. Meanwhile Dean shuts up his motel room and swings his duffel bag onto his shoulder. He saunters over.

"Hi, man", he says. "Everything done?"

"Yeah", Sam replies wearily. "Another nasty goddamn infestation stamped the hell out. Just another day at the office, for a hunter."

"Sounds like fun", Dean remarks.

"Fun's not what I'd call it exactly. But it's a calling, I guess. "

"So how does someone get to be a 'hunter'?", Dean asks, leaning nonchalantly against Sam's car.

"Tragedy usually", Sam answers honestly. "Me, I was born to it. My dad was a hunter. It's the family business."

Dean smiles sadly. "Oh yeah? So I guess this is goodbye then?"

He holds out his hand for a shake. Sam takes it, shakes it, but he doesn't let go.

Dean grins. "Maybe you can give me a ride someplace?", he suggests. "Ruby can keep the wheels. It's a piece of crap anyways, not like this classic", and he pats Sam's Impala appreciatively.

Sam agrees, "OK Sure", then casually leans closer and does up three buttons on Dean's shirt.

They both climb into the Chevy. "So where you wanna go?", Sam asks, as he starts the engine.

"Anyplace you're going's peachy with me, Sam", Dean replies. "Take me someplace they've never heard of ballroom, and you can teach me to be a hunter", and he slides his hand onto Sam's thigh. "You can teach me anything you want. OK?"

Sam feels a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth. He's had a bellyful of hunting alone anyways. So why the hell not? Dean's fast, he's handy with a gun and he's, well, fit. Plus he's got that sexy damn smile...

"OK, Dean", he says. "Let's hit the road."

Who says a hunter can't have it all.

.oOo.

Later that night, Sam's sleep is interrupted by his cellphone. Reluctantly, he reaches over to the nightstand and picks it up.

"Yeah, Bobby", he sighs. "Whaddya want?", he adds curtly.

This irks the old hunter. "Hi there Sam. Glad to hear you too. Just wanted to check in after yesterday's rumble. See ifn you ready for another job yet."

Sam exhales slowly as he feels a hand snake around his waist from behind. He rolls onto his back.

"Figuring on taking a couple rest days, Bobby", he says. "Could use a little R&R right now."

Dean leans over him and plants his lips on Sam's mouth.

"Oh sure", Bobby replies. "Take as much time as you like. You deserve it. Thinking 'bout coming down my way for a stopover any time soon? Been a while since we had us some one-to-one time, boy."

Sam disengages his mouth from Dean's for a moment.

"Actually, Bobby, I was thinking of taking a little one-to-one time", he explains. "Only you're not the 'one'."

Bobby hears someone snicker quietly in the background.

"Oh yeah?", he chuckles knowingly. "Pick up some dancer chick, huh?"

"Not exactly", Sam replies with a satisfied smirk. "But you could say I picked up some new moves."

That leaves Bobby puzzled, but Dean reaches across and slides the phone from Sam's hand, snapping it shut and tossing it on the nightstand.

"You wanna learn some new moves, Sammy", he whispers seductively. "We can start with Queer Tango."

.oOo.

Yeah, my name is Bobby Singer and it's been my privilege to know the greatest hunter of them all. That Winchester guy is one goddamn hero, and the world would be a far scarier place without him.

But sometimes I think the world would be a damn sight safer if there were two of 'em.

The End

A/N: I seem to have a thing about competitive events. It's Bonfire Night tonight and fireworks are exploding all over the street. I've had my bangers and jacket potatoes and now I'm off to bed.