quotethis_muses"Boy with a coin he found in the weeds, with bullets & pages of trade mag
People will either congratulate us or think we're totally effing insane >> Eric Kripke
(OOC: Please note that this is a Twiglet fic/scene. This is an AU 16 year old Alec Winchester. He is very much a child and a cat. Dean (fullonobiwan) and John (innomine-patris) used with permission.)
Dean Winchester, international man of mystery (If you count that highway he liked to use in Canada and that one time in Tiajauna. He had never been so drunk in his entire life and didn’t remember part of it. Which he thought might be a real shame.) sat on the hood of his '67 Chevy Impala reading Maxim.
To be fair he had a flair gun sitting on the hood next to him. Never let it be said that he was unprepared. The venue was a quiet pull off just a mile or two north of the popular but currently close camp ground. Why else would Dean be there? He hated camping.
Not to long after a large black GMC Sierra (Okay, lets be honest. The things was huge. Like the driver had to compensate for something. Not that anyone in their right mind would ever say that to the owner. Because he clearly didn't need to compensate. And he was more than capable of kicking your ass.) pulled up next to the Impala.
John Winchester unfolded from the cab of the truck and crossed the short distance to stand next to his oldest son. "What are you doing?" His tone was dry and a little short, so, in other words normal.
Dean held up the flair gun with out looking up from his magazine. "Hunting Wendigo."
"Huh" John sat on the hood of the Impala next to his son.
"Yeah." After a couple of minutes he flipped the pages of his magazine. John settled in to watch the forest, arms resting on his thighs, hands loose between his knees.
It was another hour at least before something melted out of the tree line in front of them. A twig snapped and it felt deliberate. Both men looked up to see Dean's twin aproaching. At least, Dean's twin if he was ten years younger, with a feral grin spread across his face and lighting up his eyes. It was akin to the look kittens get when they've pounced their first cricket. The kid was bouncing. Bouncing, vibrating, and nearly whirling with energy. If they didn't know that he's just single handedly taken out a Wendigo with nothing by his bar hands and a single flair gun he would have been cute.
"That was fun! Is there another? I want another. Can I play with another? Pleeeeaaaase?" Dean laughed as he bundled his kid brother into the car. Alec would be curled up in the seat power napping by the time they hit the main road.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 425
Open to RP
(OOC: Please note that this is a Twiglet fic/scene. This is an AU 16 year old Alec Winchester. He is very much a child and a cat. Dean (fullonobiwan) and John (innomine-patris) used with permission.)
Dean Winchester, international man of mystery (If you count that highway he liked to use in Canada and that one time in Tiajauna. He had never been so drunk in his entire life and didn’t remember part of it. Which he thought might be a real shame.) sat on the hood of his '67 Chevy Impala reading Maxim.
To be fair he had a flair gun sitting on the hood next to him. Never let it be said that he was unprepared. The venue was a quiet pull off just a mile or two north of the popular but currently close camp ground. Why else would Dean be there? He hated camping.
Not to long after a large black GMC Sierra (Okay, lets be honest. The things was huge. Like the driver had to compensate for something. Not that anyone in their right mind would ever say that to the owner. Because he clearly didn't need to compensate. And he was more than capable of kicking your ass.) pulled up next to the Impala.
John Winchester unfolded from the cab of the truck and crossed the short distance to stand next to his oldest son. "What are you doing?" His tone was dry and a little short, so, in other words normal.
Dean held up the flair gun with out looking up from his magazine. "Hunting Wendigo."
"Huh" John sat on the hood of the Impala next to his son.
"Yeah." After a couple of minutes he flipped the pages of his magazine. John settled in to watch the forest, arms resting on his thighs, hands loose between his knees.
It was another hour at least before something melted out of the tree line in front of them. A twig snapped and it felt deliberate. Both men looked up to see Dean's twin aproaching. At least, Dean's twin if he was ten years younger, with a feral grin spread across his face and lighting up his eyes. It was akin to the look kittens get when they've pounced their first cricket. The kid was bouncing. Bouncing, vibrating, and nearly whirling with energy. If they didn't know that he's just single handedly taken out a Wendigo with nothing by his bar hands and a single flair gun he would have been cute.
"That was fun! Is there another? I want another. Can I play with another? Pleeeeaaaase?" Dean laughed as he bundled his kid brother into the car. Alec would be curled up in the seat power napping by the time they hit the main road.
Muse: Alec McDowell/X5-494
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 425
Open to RP