Fic: Of clothes and slow moving traffic 1/1 SPN/PTL
Title: Of clothes and slow moving traffic
Author: jenab
Rating: PG
Summary: Deane’s stuck in traffic and bored
Pairing: Deane Winchester/Nick Boyle
Fandom: Supernatural/Poltergeist: The Legacy
Disclaimer: All characters and property of Poltergeist: The Legacy belong to Richard Barton Lewis and MGM. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Date: March 2007
The sun was shining brightly and traffic was moving well. Deane had the radio turned up loud, and the windows rolled down, letting in the warm, afternoon sun. Life was good.
Her cellphone rang. Glancing at the number in the display, Deane grinned.
“Hey, Nick.”
“I’m putting locks on my drawers the next time you visit.”
Deane laughed, Nick Boyle’s aggravation and ticked off mood rolling right off her.
“I swear I lose half my clothes every time you leave.”
“What can I say, Nick. You have excellent taste in clothes, and Dad always taught me to take advantage of any situation to get what I need.” Deane tapped the steering wheel in time to the radio, still grinning.
“I think that only applies to hustling and credit card fraud.” Exasperation filled Nick’s voice, which came in clear through her cell. “I’m starting to think you only come to see me when you’re in need of new clothes.”
“Your wardrobe is only a really nice benefit to seeing you, Nick.” Deane’s voiced dropped lower, becoming a little husky.
Nick snorted. “Uh huh. Where are you now?”
A row of brake lights ahead of her had Deane tapping the brakes lightly. The Impala slowed to a crawl along with the rest of the traffic.
“Just came back from seeing Sam at Stanford. I’m on my way to Nevada to meet up with Dad.” Deane poked her head out the window, trying to see why traffic was down to a standstill. When she couldn’t see anything, she laid on the horn. The guy in the car in front of her flipped her off.
“Problems?”
Deane growled. “Traffic’s stopped.” Nick laughed, knowing how much she hated driving in the bigger cities. Deane mentally flipped him off. She hated driving in this kind of traffic. Too many cars, too much congestion. Give her the back roads and wide open highways of middle America anytime.
“So what are you wearing?” Deane moved forward a foot then stopped again. She shifted the cellphone into a better position. It looked like she was going to be here awhile.
“Isn’t that suppose to be my question?”
“You already know what I’m wearing. One of your t-shirts and jeans.” The shirt had been still warm from Nick’s body when she put it on earlier today. Now it held just the faintest trace of Nick’s smell. His jeans were baggy on her with the cuffs rolled up several times.
“I know.” Nick grumbled. “I had to do laundry today because you swiped most of my clean clothes.
“Ah, poor baby.” Deane crooned. “Come on, Nick. Traffic is going nowhere and I’m bored.”
“Really?” There was a tone in Nick’s voice that had her on alert. She knew that tone. It usually meant Nick was up to no good.
“I’m wearing my oldest pair of jeans and nothing else.” Nick’s voice was suddenly husky, sending a shiver down her spine.
She knew exactly what jeans he was wearing. They were faded almost white with wear and really showed off Nick’s ass. And his ass was very fine.
“I’m in the control room, and the House is completely empty today.” Nick was still talking, drawing Deane away her contemplation of his ass to the image of him sitting in the control room. To the way the jeans would stretch over his thighs and the way the muscles of his chest and stomach would flex when he moved. Or the way the scattering of dark hair on his chest narrowed down to a line disappearing beneath his jeans.
That scene had her shifting in the seat, remembering how warm Nick’s skin was under her hands. Through the cell, she could hear the squeak of Nick’s chair as he settled back.
“Exactly how empty is the House? Not even a servant around?” Deane was pleased at how normal her voice sounded.
“No one is around. Just me. Which means I can do this and not have to worry about being caught.”
This was the quiet rasp of a zipper being lowered. Deane bit her lip, her thighs pressing tightly together. She could see Nick sprawled out in the chair, one hand stroking himself slowly. She wanted to pull over someplace, turn off the car and join him.
“Bastard.” Nick chuckled, the sound making her squirm even more. He was tormenting her, knowing there was nowhere for her to get off the freeway and find a secluded place to park.
“Remember that the next time you go stealing my clothes, Winchester.” The phone went dead in her ear, leaving her turned on and unable to do anything about it.
Boyle was so dead the next time she saw him.
Author: jenab
Rating: PG
Summary: Deane’s stuck in traffic and bored
Pairing: Deane Winchester/Nick Boyle
Fandom: Supernatural/Poltergeist: The Legacy
Disclaimer: All characters and property of Poltergeist: The Legacy belong to Richard Barton Lewis and MGM. Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Date: March 2007
The sun was shining brightly and traffic was moving well. Deane had the radio turned up loud, and the windows rolled down, letting in the warm, afternoon sun. Life was good.
Her cellphone rang. Glancing at the number in the display, Deane grinned.
“Hey, Nick.”
“I’m putting locks on my drawers the next time you visit.”
Deane laughed, Nick Boyle’s aggravation and ticked off mood rolling right off her.
“I swear I lose half my clothes every time you leave.”
“What can I say, Nick. You have excellent taste in clothes, and Dad always taught me to take advantage of any situation to get what I need.” Deane tapped the steering wheel in time to the radio, still grinning.
“I think that only applies to hustling and credit card fraud.” Exasperation filled Nick’s voice, which came in clear through her cell. “I’m starting to think you only come to see me when you’re in need of new clothes.”
“Your wardrobe is only a really nice benefit to seeing you, Nick.” Deane’s voiced dropped lower, becoming a little husky.
Nick snorted. “Uh huh. Where are you now?”
A row of brake lights ahead of her had Deane tapping the brakes lightly. The Impala slowed to a crawl along with the rest of the traffic.
“Just came back from seeing Sam at Stanford. I’m on my way to Nevada to meet up with Dad.” Deane poked her head out the window, trying to see why traffic was down to a standstill. When she couldn’t see anything, she laid on the horn. The guy in the car in front of her flipped her off.
“Problems?”
Deane growled. “Traffic’s stopped.” Nick laughed, knowing how much she hated driving in the bigger cities. Deane mentally flipped him off. She hated driving in this kind of traffic. Too many cars, too much congestion. Give her the back roads and wide open highways of middle America anytime.
“So what are you wearing?” Deane moved forward a foot then stopped again. She shifted the cellphone into a better position. It looked like she was going to be here awhile.
“Isn’t that suppose to be my question?”
“You already know what I’m wearing. One of your t-shirts and jeans.” The shirt had been still warm from Nick’s body when she put it on earlier today. Now it held just the faintest trace of Nick’s smell. His jeans were baggy on her with the cuffs rolled up several times.
“I know.” Nick grumbled. “I had to do laundry today because you swiped most of my clean clothes.
“Ah, poor baby.” Deane crooned. “Come on, Nick. Traffic is going nowhere and I’m bored.”
“Really?” There was a tone in Nick’s voice that had her on alert. She knew that tone. It usually meant Nick was up to no good.
“I’m wearing my oldest pair of jeans and nothing else.” Nick’s voice was suddenly husky, sending a shiver down her spine.
She knew exactly what jeans he was wearing. They were faded almost white with wear and really showed off Nick’s ass. And his ass was very fine.
“I’m in the control room, and the House is completely empty today.” Nick was still talking, drawing Deane away her contemplation of his ass to the image of him sitting in the control room. To the way the jeans would stretch over his thighs and the way the muscles of his chest and stomach would flex when he moved. Or the way the scattering of dark hair on his chest narrowed down to a line disappearing beneath his jeans.
That scene had her shifting in the seat, remembering how warm Nick’s skin was under her hands. Through the cell, she could hear the squeak of Nick’s chair as he settled back.
“Exactly how empty is the House? Not even a servant around?” Deane was pleased at how normal her voice sounded.
“No one is around. Just me. Which means I can do this and not have to worry about being caught.”
This was the quiet rasp of a zipper being lowered. Deane bit her lip, her thighs pressing tightly together. She could see Nick sprawled out in the chair, one hand stroking himself slowly. She wanted to pull over someplace, turn off the car and join him.
“Bastard.” Nick chuckled, the sound making her squirm even more. He was tormenting her, knowing there was nowhere for her to get off the freeway and find a secluded place to park.
“Remember that the next time you go stealing my clothes, Winchester.” The phone went dead in her ear, leaving her turned on and unable to do anything about it.
Boyle was so dead the next time she saw him.