Live Fast, Die Young, Eat a Lot of Trash (genfic, 558 words, pg-rated)
Written in about twenty minutes yesterday while I was stuck in the car.
Live Fast, Die Young, Eat a Lot of Trash
(genfic, 558 words, pg-rated)
A tiny coda to 3.01, featuring Dean and Bobby.
Dean's in the middle of the pretty successful seduction of a mother-daughter combo when his cell goes. It can't be Sam because one glance tells him Sam's still where he left him: at the table outside, mooching over some book dustier and smellier than the last one he'd got through and drinking some piss-poor excuse for coffee. He apologises to the women for the interruption and pulls the cell out, frowning when he sees it's Bobby.
He weighs his options for a moment. From the signals he's getting, the daughter's sold on the idea. Her mom's not persuaded yet and it's not going to count as a profitable use of Dean's remaining time if he settles for having just one of them. The mom's got class and elegance - not the obvious wholesome prettiness of perky breasts and red lips of her daughter - but a quiet dignity in the way she drinks her coffee, the way she lets Dean flirt while never giving anything back.
But if Bobby's calling, Dean figures there's a good chance he's found some demonic ass for Dean to kick and that's got to be worth losing these two. And if the timetable allows, there's no reason Dean shouldn't be able to fit one activity in before the other.
"Hey, what you got?" says Dean.
"What did you have for breakfast?"
Dean blinks and takes a step away from the mother and daughter, letting their hushed conversation - no doubt about him - get lost in the chatter of the coffee house.
"Uh… what? Are you talking in code? Are you in trouble?"
"I'm asking what you had for breakfast," says Bobby again. "And could you hear your arteries slamming shut as you ate it?"
"You taking over my diet now, Bobby?"
"Why would I? You're doing such a bang-up job of it yourself."
For someone so generally mild-mannered and good-natured, Bobby's sarcasm comes across impressively clearly. Dean sighs and manages to paste a smile back on in time to flash his dimples at the daughter as she glances over at him.
"Is the army of demons running about the place not enough to take your mind off the little things? Seriously, let it go. So I have a cheeseburger for breakfast every day for the rest of my life. It's hardly a long-term problem for you, now is it?"
There's a long pause and Dean knows Bobby too well to think that that's a good sign.
"D'you think if you make enough jokes about it it'll stop being an issue? D'you think Sam and I are suddenly going to see the funny side of the deal you made? Because I'm not seeing it right now. It's just you taking a year to commit suicide and letting your brother watch you slide further and further into the Pit."
"Bobby, I can't-"
Bobby talks over the top of him, raising his voice to do it but without frustration or anger.
"Just do me a favour and go eat a salad or something."
"Bobby…"
"You're gonna want to leave a good-looking corpse, kid, not one with a sagging gut. Now go eat something green and M&Ms don't count."
Bobby hangs up while Dean's mouth is still hanging open.
He rubs a hand self-consciously over his belly and wonders whether it feels a little paunchier than before.
~end
Live Fast, Die Young, Eat a Lot of Trash
(genfic, 558 words, pg-rated)
A tiny coda to 3.01, featuring Dean and Bobby.
Dean's in the middle of the pretty successful seduction of a mother-daughter combo when his cell goes. It can't be Sam because one glance tells him Sam's still where he left him: at the table outside, mooching over some book dustier and smellier than the last one he'd got through and drinking some piss-poor excuse for coffee. He apologises to the women for the interruption and pulls the cell out, frowning when he sees it's Bobby.
He weighs his options for a moment. From the signals he's getting, the daughter's sold on the idea. Her mom's not persuaded yet and it's not going to count as a profitable use of Dean's remaining time if he settles for having just one of them. The mom's got class and elegance - not the obvious wholesome prettiness of perky breasts and red lips of her daughter - but a quiet dignity in the way she drinks her coffee, the way she lets Dean flirt while never giving anything back.
But if Bobby's calling, Dean figures there's a good chance he's found some demonic ass for Dean to kick and that's got to be worth losing these two. And if the timetable allows, there's no reason Dean shouldn't be able to fit one activity in before the other.
"Hey, what you got?" says Dean.
"What did you have for breakfast?"
Dean blinks and takes a step away from the mother and daughter, letting their hushed conversation - no doubt about him - get lost in the chatter of the coffee house.
"Uh… what? Are you talking in code? Are you in trouble?"
"I'm asking what you had for breakfast," says Bobby again. "And could you hear your arteries slamming shut as you ate it?"
"You taking over my diet now, Bobby?"
"Why would I? You're doing such a bang-up job of it yourself."
For someone so generally mild-mannered and good-natured, Bobby's sarcasm comes across impressively clearly. Dean sighs and manages to paste a smile back on in time to flash his dimples at the daughter as she glances over at him.
"Is the army of demons running about the place not enough to take your mind off the little things? Seriously, let it go. So I have a cheeseburger for breakfast every day for the rest of my life. It's hardly a long-term problem for you, now is it?"
There's a long pause and Dean knows Bobby too well to think that that's a good sign.
"D'you think if you make enough jokes about it it'll stop being an issue? D'you think Sam and I are suddenly going to see the funny side of the deal you made? Because I'm not seeing it right now. It's just you taking a year to commit suicide and letting your brother watch you slide further and further into the Pit."
"Bobby, I can't-"
Bobby talks over the top of him, raising his voice to do it but without frustration or anger.
"Just do me a favour and go eat a salad or something."
"Bobby…"
"You're gonna want to leave a good-looking corpse, kid, not one with a sagging gut. Now go eat something green and M&Ms don't count."
Bobby hangs up while Dean's mouth is still hanging open.
He rubs a hand self-consciously over his belly and wonders whether it feels a little paunchier than before.
~end