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Fic: Like Father, Like Son
Title: Like Father, Like Son
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Cain, Adora, Adora's father, Jeb, DG and Ahamo
Rating: PG
Summary: The Cain men have a way...
Warnings: pre-series and post- Possibly in the same verse as Not to Worry *Written for the Fall/Winter Seasonal Challenge at tm_challenge. Inspired by Dirty Girl by Terri Clark. (Lyrics not included in word count)
Prompts: Natural, Sense, Plunge, Texture, Dilapidated, Respect, AC: Maybe and Stained
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
Like Father, Like Son | Not to Worry | Ahem
Four wheels churnin' up a fresh green pasture, throwing mud pies everywhere
I'm beside you yellin "faster faster!"; wind whippin' through my tangled hair
And you know, there's nothin like it in the world
when you're out there, underneath the sun, and I'm a dirty girl
NATURAL
"How did I get myself into this again?" Wyatt asked, pulling a cornstalk from between the rotors of the tractor.
"You volunteered," Adora said from the seat, smiling as she looked out over the field.
"I was tricked," he claimed, tossing the stalk away and giving another look at the axle.
"I told you I'd see you after my chores were done," Adora informed him as Wyatt climbed back up to the seat. "You just couldn't wait," she added with a shrug.
Wyatt smiled and reached for a stray twig, which had managed to settle in her hair.
"You're right."
SENSE
Adora's father watched from the porch as his daughter passed the Cain boy a pitchfork and smiled, pointing to the barn. He sighed at the look on the boy's face and knew that it was hopeless; he was no longer the only man in her life.
Wyatt Cain was a good man, he was certain; Adora wouldn't have chosen him otherwise.
And his wife kept reminding him that they were once like that.
But Adora was still his little girl... his princess.
All he could do now was hope that, one day, his grandchildren would make the boy's life Hell.
PLUNGE
Wyatt shoveled two more loads of hay over the edge of the platform before setting the pitchfork down with a thunk and leaning on the handle. He glanced down and breathed heavily, catching Adora's eye.
"I quit," he said simply, giving her a nod. Adora cocked her head slightly and her eyes went wide a moment later as he let the pitchfork fall to his side and then leapt from the platform to the hay pile below.
"No, Wyatt!" she shouted and dove for the spot he'd just fallen. "If you just killed yourself, I will kill you," she grumbled.
TEXTURE
Adora found Cain in a sea of straw and grabbed hold of his arm. She tried to turn him over, but he was dead weight and panic set in. She finally managed to roll him over and placed a hand on his neck.
How he held still as long as he did would always be a mystery to him, but he finally smiled and she slapped him across the chest. "Ow," he laughed and grabbed both her wrists, pulling her down next to him as he rolled over and pressed her into the hay with his weight.
"Enough work," he said quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to the bare skin of her neck. Adora clenched her jaw and breathed heavily, trying not to let the man get the better of her. Which prompted him to press another kiss here, then one there.
"In the barn?" she finally asked, leaning back into the hay. "With the smell and the... cows?" she asked, nodding to her right.
Wyatt glanced over to the cows and shrugged. "I could send them outside, if you'd like," he teased. Adora slapped at his arm and pulled pieces of hay from his hair.
"You're filthy."
I like it when we get cleaned up on Sunday
Feel my skin against a string of pearls
And, when we hang out, it's just a fun day
You know I love it when I get to be a dirty girl
DILAPIDATED
"That's not gonna work," DG supplied in a sing-song, rotating a machine part in her hands. Across the room, Jeb Cain made a face as he leaned over the engine of the vehicle.
She'd skipped out of her lessons that afternoon and wandered down to the part of the stables that doubled as a garage and found Jeb tinkering under the hood of an old truck.
"What could you possibly know about this?" he asked, pushing away from the truck with a sigh.
DG raised an eyebrow and pushed away from the bench. "Give me the wrench and pay attention."
RESPECT
"Where did you learn to do that?" Jeb asked, leaning back and eyeing DG apprehensively. DG rolled her eyes and reached for the red scrap of cloth Jeb was using as a rag.
"I wasn't always a princess, Captain," she informed him.
"But you're a girl," Jeb replied, not intending it to come out sounding as it had. Closing his eyes, Jeb cursed himself for not stopping himself before he spoke and missed the smile on DG's face.
"And who taught you how to do this stuff?" she asked, waving to the engine. Jeb bit his lip.
"My mother, actually." DG smiled and stepped around him. "I apologize," he continued. "I didn't mean-"
"It's okay," DG informed him, putting a hand on his arm. "I used to creep out the boys in shop,” she said, smiling at the memory. Sighing, DG shook her head and twirled the wrench in her hand. "So, what else is wrong with this thing?" she asked, nodding to the truck.
Jeb shifted his arm to grab her elbow and pulled her back to the engine. "Everything, it seems," he sighed.
"Spark plugs? Dead battery? Gas in the tank?" DG asked, starting with the obvious issues.
You'll be workin' on that El Camino, bustin' knuckles with a monkey wrench
I'll come sneakin' up and whisper, real low, "What you really need's a 3/16ths."
And you know that there's nothin like it in the world
When we're underneath the hood and I'm a dirty girl
MAYBE
Maybe it was the smell of oil and gasoline.
Maybe it was the proximity.
Maybe it was the rush of satisfaction that she'd shown him up.
Maybe it was that he'd played dumb, just to see what she'd do.
Maybe it was the fact neither of them had been in that position in a while.
Maybe they should both walk away, then and there.
Maybe they should take one step closer to the edge, just to see if they could handle it.
Maybe it was because he was actually nervous and she wasn't.
Maybe it was meant to be.
Maybe.
And, you know, that there's nothin' like it in the world
It might be axle grease or Mississippi mud, but when you touch my cheek and leave a little smudge
I'll be your dirty girl
STAINED
Ahamo moved across the grounds at a slow pace, but his steps had purpose. He was met halfway by Wyatt Cain, who had just come from another direction, also with a purpose to his steps. They met and shook hands, offering greetings to each other and laughing when they realized they were both in search of someone.
They stopped at the window, seeing their children through the glass.
DG's arm was draped around Jeb's neck, her hand barely holding on to the wrench. His fingers were on her neck, grease smudged on her cheek.
Neither father was ready for this.
the Big Damn Prompt table
Author: Erin (erinm_4600)
Characters, Pairing: Cain, Adora, Adora's father, Jeb, DG and Ahamo
Rating: PG
Summary: The Cain men have a way...
Warnings: pre-series and post- Possibly in the same verse as Not to Worry *Written for the Fall/Winter Seasonal Challenge at tm_challenge. Inspired by Dirty Girl by Terri Clark. (Lyrics not included in word count)
Prompts: Natural, Sense, Plunge, Texture, Dilapidated, Respect, AC: Maybe and Stained
Disclaimer: The original characters belong to L. Frank Baum and their respective actors. The current characters belong to Sci-Fi, the movie folks and their respective actors. The OCs are mine.
Like Father, Like Son | Not to Worry | Ahem
Four wheels churnin' up a fresh green pasture, throwing mud pies everywhere
I'm beside you yellin "faster faster!"; wind whippin' through my tangled hair
And you know, there's nothin like it in the world
when you're out there, underneath the sun, and I'm a dirty girl
NATURAL
"How did I get myself into this again?" Wyatt asked, pulling a cornstalk from between the rotors of the tractor.
"You volunteered," Adora said from the seat, smiling as she looked out over the field.
"I was tricked," he claimed, tossing the stalk away and giving another look at the axle.
"I told you I'd see you after my chores were done," Adora informed him as Wyatt climbed back up to the seat. "You just couldn't wait," she added with a shrug.
Wyatt smiled and reached for a stray twig, which had managed to settle in her hair.
"You're right."
SENSE
Adora's father watched from the porch as his daughter passed the Cain boy a pitchfork and smiled, pointing to the barn. He sighed at the look on the boy's face and knew that it was hopeless; he was no longer the only man in her life.
Wyatt Cain was a good man, he was certain; Adora wouldn't have chosen him otherwise.
And his wife kept reminding him that they were once like that.
But Adora was still his little girl... his princess.
All he could do now was hope that, one day, his grandchildren would make the boy's life Hell.
PLUNGE
Wyatt shoveled two more loads of hay over the edge of the platform before setting the pitchfork down with a thunk and leaning on the handle. He glanced down and breathed heavily, catching Adora's eye.
"I quit," he said simply, giving her a nod. Adora cocked her head slightly and her eyes went wide a moment later as he let the pitchfork fall to his side and then leapt from the platform to the hay pile below.
"No, Wyatt!" she shouted and dove for the spot he'd just fallen. "If you just killed yourself, I will kill you," she grumbled.
TEXTURE
Adora found Cain in a sea of straw and grabbed hold of his arm. She tried to turn him over, but he was dead weight and panic set in. She finally managed to roll him over and placed a hand on his neck.
How he held still as long as he did would always be a mystery to him, but he finally smiled and she slapped him across the chest. "Ow," he laughed and grabbed both her wrists, pulling her down next to him as he rolled over and pressed her into the hay with his weight.
"Enough work," he said quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to the bare skin of her neck. Adora clenched her jaw and breathed heavily, trying not to let the man get the better of her. Which prompted him to press another kiss here, then one there.
"In the barn?" she finally asked, leaning back into the hay. "With the smell and the... cows?" she asked, nodding to her right.
Wyatt glanced over to the cows and shrugged. "I could send them outside, if you'd like," he teased. Adora slapped at his arm and pulled pieces of hay from his hair.
"You're filthy."
I like it when we get cleaned up on Sunday
Feel my skin against a string of pearls
And, when we hang out, it's just a fun day
You know I love it when I get to be a dirty girl
DILAPIDATED
"That's not gonna work," DG supplied in a sing-song, rotating a machine part in her hands. Across the room, Jeb Cain made a face as he leaned over the engine of the vehicle.
She'd skipped out of her lessons that afternoon and wandered down to the part of the stables that doubled as a garage and found Jeb tinkering under the hood of an old truck.
"What could you possibly know about this?" he asked, pushing away from the truck with a sigh.
DG raised an eyebrow and pushed away from the bench. "Give me the wrench and pay attention."
RESPECT
"Where did you learn to do that?" Jeb asked, leaning back and eyeing DG apprehensively. DG rolled her eyes and reached for the red scrap of cloth Jeb was using as a rag.
"I wasn't always a princess, Captain," she informed him.
"But you're a girl," Jeb replied, not intending it to come out sounding as it had. Closing his eyes, Jeb cursed himself for not stopping himself before he spoke and missed the smile on DG's face.
"And who taught you how to do this stuff?" she asked, waving to the engine. Jeb bit his lip.
"My mother, actually." DG smiled and stepped around him. "I apologize," he continued. "I didn't mean-"
"It's okay," DG informed him, putting a hand on his arm. "I used to creep out the boys in shop,” she said, smiling at the memory. Sighing, DG shook her head and twirled the wrench in her hand. "So, what else is wrong with this thing?" she asked, nodding to the truck.
Jeb shifted his arm to grab her elbow and pulled her back to the engine. "Everything, it seems," he sighed.
"Spark plugs? Dead battery? Gas in the tank?" DG asked, starting with the obvious issues.
You'll be workin' on that El Camino, bustin' knuckles with a monkey wrench
I'll come sneakin' up and whisper, real low, "What you really need's a 3/16ths."
And you know that there's nothin like it in the world
When we're underneath the hood and I'm a dirty girl
MAYBE
Maybe it was the smell of oil and gasoline.
Maybe it was the proximity.
Maybe it was the rush of satisfaction that she'd shown him up.
Maybe it was that he'd played dumb, just to see what she'd do.
Maybe it was the fact neither of them had been in that position in a while.
Maybe they should both walk away, then and there.
Maybe they should take one step closer to the edge, just to see if they could handle it.
Maybe it was because he was actually nervous and she wasn't.
Maybe it was meant to be.
Maybe.
And, you know, that there's nothin' like it in the world
It might be axle grease or Mississippi mud, but when you touch my cheek and leave a little smudge
I'll be your dirty girl
STAINED
Ahamo moved across the grounds at a slow pace, but his steps had purpose. He was met halfway by Wyatt Cain, who had just come from another direction, also with a purpose to his steps. They met and shook hands, offering greetings to each other and laughing when they realized they were both in search of someone.
They stopped at the window, seeing their children through the glass.
DG's arm was draped around Jeb's neck, her hand barely holding on to the wrench. His fingers were on her neck, grease smudged on her cheek.
Neither father was ready for this.
the Big Damn Prompt table