Supernatural Fic
Dec. 5th, 2010 10:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluehwysFor the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fic_promptly prompt: Supernatural, Dean, back on the road in his baby
Kick the Dust from My Heels
It’s been too long since he had her under his hands; he’d forgotten how responsive she is. Used to the truck, he presses too hard on the accelerator and she leaps down the driveway and nearly into Mrs. Kracinsky’s minivan before he stomps on the brakes (again, too hard) and is thrown into his seatbelt with enough force to knock the air from his chest. He sits there a moment getting his breath back while his baby idles angrily at him for the manhandling.
He runs his hands around the steering wheel and over the dash, murmuring apologies and soothing words before gently easing her out into the street. It goes smoother this time, only a minor hiccup with the clutch when he shifts - the clutch in the truck sticks sometimes – and then he’s in town and then out of it, opting to stop down the road to fill the tank and get ice for the cooler because he doesn’t want to run into anyone he knows. They’d ask questions, and right now he doesn’t have the patience to fake normality.
It’s easier than he thought it’d be, slipping into old routines on the open road, like falling off a wall. His baby helps, the soothing rumble of her engine a sense memory bringing it all back. He finds himself driving automatically, correcting the slight pull to the left she has that he’s never been able to get rid of, and pulling into cheap diners and even cheaper motels without making the conscious decision to do so. It’s only difficult at night, when he calls Lisa and Ben, and when he lays down to sleep without Lisa’s warmth next to him, and in the morning when he reaches for her before coming fully awake. But a few miles down the road and it’s all Metallica and Sabbath, checking maps and the gas gauge, talking to locals and impersonating government officials.
The leather of the seats molds to his body again, and the familiar debris of life on the road builds up in the backseat.
It won’t be too long before he’s caught up with Sam, and then it’ll be the three of them again, doing what they do best.
fic_promptly prompt: Supernatural, Dean, back on the road in his babyKick the Dust from My Heels
It’s been too long since he had her under his hands; he’d forgotten how responsive she is. Used to the truck, he presses too hard on the accelerator and she leaps down the driveway and nearly into Mrs. Kracinsky’s minivan before he stomps on the brakes (again, too hard) and is thrown into his seatbelt with enough force to knock the air from his chest. He sits there a moment getting his breath back while his baby idles angrily at him for the manhandling.
He runs his hands around the steering wheel and over the dash, murmuring apologies and soothing words before gently easing her out into the street. It goes smoother this time, only a minor hiccup with the clutch when he shifts - the clutch in the truck sticks sometimes – and then he’s in town and then out of it, opting to stop down the road to fill the tank and get ice for the cooler because he doesn’t want to run into anyone he knows. They’d ask questions, and right now he doesn’t have the patience to fake normality.
It’s easier than he thought it’d be, slipping into old routines on the open road, like falling off a wall. His baby helps, the soothing rumble of her engine a sense memory bringing it all back. He finds himself driving automatically, correcting the slight pull to the left she has that he’s never been able to get rid of, and pulling into cheap diners and even cheaper motels without making the conscious decision to do so. It’s only difficult at night, when he calls Lisa and Ben, and when he lays down to sleep without Lisa’s warmth next to him, and in the morning when he reaches for her before coming fully awake. But a few miles down the road and it’s all Metallica and Sabbath, checking maps and the gas gauge, talking to locals and impersonating government officials.
The leather of the seats molds to his body again, and the familiar debris of life on the road builds up in the backseat.
It won’t be too long before he’s caught up with Sam, and then it’ll be the three of them again, doing what they do best.