Saturday night I posted fic:
it’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage(Sam/Dean; NC-17; 5,115 words)
Nearly twenty years later and they’re men now, with real jobs, real kickass jobs, greying hair, and yep, they’re totally mature now. ‘Cept where Dean’s rockin’ the Indiana Jones flair as a film professor (glasses included) and Sam’s in artifact
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Groups of people strung out along the footpath and dawdling really gets on my tits! My god, I just want to kick the bloody lot of them. I usually end up barging through them with a shouted, "Excuse me!".
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I don't know WHAT motivates people to just stand there! Chatting! ON CELLPHONES. And other stupid things. Uh, hey, there's a wall over there, go stand there instead and get out of my way. It's just common sense. Argh.
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