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avandell2007-04-18 04:55 pm
theladyscribe) wrote in avandell2007-04-18 04:55 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Talkin' Bout Love (TNverse)
Title: Talkin’ Bout Love
Characters: Dean, OFC (Dean/OFC)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 417
Summary: And then one night, she's off work early and walking down the street to Joe’s and there it is.
Notes: Written for thespn_het_love challenge: These Are a Few of My Favorite Things. Also a part of my TNverse and a companion piece to Kate (although you don't have to be familiar with it to enjoy the fic). And yes, I know I broke the word count rule. I tried to shorten it, I really did, but I just couldn’t. Title is from Led Zeppelin’s “Trampled Underfoot.” X-posted like crazy.
Characters: Dean, OFC (Dean/OFC)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 417
Summary: And then one night, she's off work early and walking down the street to Joe’s and there it is.
Notes: Written for the
spn_het_love challenge: These Are a Few of My Favorite Things. Also a part of my TNverse and a companion piece to Kate (although you don't have to be familiar with it to enjoy the fic). And yes, I know I broke the word count rule. I tried to shorten it, I really did, but I just couldn’t. Title is from Led Zeppelin’s “Trampled Underfoot.” X-posted like crazy. Talkin’ Bout Love
She sees it the first night he rolls into town – it’s hard to miss, with its rumbling engine and the thumping bass. The gleaming black car turns heads; the man who steps out of it keeps them from turning away. Kate can’t wait to learn more about both of them.
She hopes he’ll take the car to the weekly car shows, but she is disappointed. The man never shows any interest in local events, guarding both himself and his car with a wall of stoicism and mystery. She wonders about this apparent recluse, what his secrets are. But she shakes it off – after all, he isn’t the only one hiding in plain sight.
And then one night, she’s off work early and walking down the street to Joe’s and there it is. That big black car sits in the lot, begging to be touched. Kate willingly complies. She runs her fingers along the sides of the gleaming beast, reveling in the smooth black, the shining chrome.
Her revery is broken by a barked, “Can I help you?”
Her head shoots up. “She yours?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.
“Might be. Why?” His question is defensive, deflecting.
Kate takes a deep breath and plunges forward. “She’s gorgeous. You’ve kept her in wonderful condition for such an old model. Sixty-seven, Detroit steel, right? They just don’t make them like they used to. Now it’s all fiberglass painted over tin cans. But this… She’s beautiful,” she finishes, out of breath and wistful.
His face breaks into a grin, and Kate can’t help but smile back. “She’s got a V-6 engine. Reworked it myself about five years ago.”
“I bet the mileage still sucks.”
He shrugs and says, “Can’t have everything,” and his smile recedes just a little, as if something bothers him.
“I’m Kate, by the way,” she says, and she sticks out her hand.
“Dean. You know cars pretty well?”
“My dad taught me everything. Only child, and he raised me on his own, so I had a well-rounded childhood. Took more bribery to get me to prom than to get me hunting.” She grins. “Where’d you learn?”
“My dad, too,” he answers, but his breath rattles a bit, and she wonders about his family. “He taught me everything I know.”
“Cool.” She pauses. “I’d invite you to get a drink with me, but it looks like you’ve just come from getting one. So, see you around I guess.”
“Yeah,” he says, “see you around.”
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A/N: Because this song should be retitled "The Love Song of Dean Winchester and the Metallicar," here are the lyrics to Trampled Underfoot.
She sees it the first night he rolls into town – it’s hard to miss, with its rumbling engine and the thumping bass. The gleaming black car turns heads; the man who steps out of it keeps them from turning away. Kate can’t wait to learn more about both of them.
She hopes he’ll take the car to the weekly car shows, but she is disappointed. The man never shows any interest in local events, guarding both himself and his car with a wall of stoicism and mystery. She wonders about this apparent recluse, what his secrets are. But she shakes it off – after all, he isn’t the only one hiding in plain sight.
And then one night, she’s off work early and walking down the street to Joe’s and there it is. That big black car sits in the lot, begging to be touched. Kate willingly complies. She runs her fingers along the sides of the gleaming beast, reveling in the smooth black, the shining chrome.
Her revery is broken by a barked, “Can I help you?”
Her head shoots up. “She yours?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.
“Might be. Why?” His question is defensive, deflecting.
Kate takes a deep breath and plunges forward. “She’s gorgeous. You’ve kept her in wonderful condition for such an old model. Sixty-seven, Detroit steel, right? They just don’t make them like they used to. Now it’s all fiberglass painted over tin cans. But this… She’s beautiful,” she finishes, out of breath and wistful.
His face breaks into a grin, and Kate can’t help but smile back. “She’s got a V-6 engine. Reworked it myself about five years ago.”
“I bet the mileage still sucks.”
He shrugs and says, “Can’t have everything,” and his smile recedes just a little, as if something bothers him.
“I’m Kate, by the way,” she says, and she sticks out her hand.
“Dean. You know cars pretty well?”
“My dad taught me everything. Only child, and he raised me on his own, so I had a well-rounded childhood. Took more bribery to get me to prom than to get me hunting.” She grins. “Where’d you learn?”
“My dad, too,” he answers, but his breath rattles a bit, and she wonders about his family. “He taught me everything I know.”
“Cool.” She pauses. “I’d invite you to get a drink with me, but it looks like you’ve just come from getting one. So, see you around I guess.”
“Yeah,” he says, “see you around.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Because this song should be retitled "The Love Song of Dean Winchester and the Metallicar," here are the lyrics to Trampled Underfoot.
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Although, really, I think it should be:
Dear Mr Kripke,
Next season, Dean's clothes are torn to shreds by an angry banshee. For the whole season.
Love,
Abby
... Don't give me that look! You want it too!
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