Fic: Gas Station (SPN)
Genre: Sick!fic, oneshot
Category: Gen
Rating: M (adult themes)
Characters: OFC, Dean, Sam
Warning: This has swearing.
Word Count: 1404
Disclaimer: They're pretty, but they're not mine.
Summary: Just a quick one shot from an outsider POV, Sam and Dean stop at a gas station while on the road. Dean's a mess. And maybe she has a little sneeze!kink, or maybe she just thinks he's too hot to care that he's sick... either way.
A/N: Okay, I know there's other things I need to be finishing! But this just came to me and I couldn't ignore it. I wanted to see Sam and Dean, doing what they would do every single day but that they hardly ever put in the show, just a normal brotherly moment, of them stopping for gas and snacks etc while on the road to their next destination. I also have never written an outsider POV before so go easy on me please. I thought it'd be fun to try.
A/N 2: Also, present tense. Sorry if you don't like that sort of thing.
Gas Station
"Can you watch the counter?"
"Why? Where are you going?"
"To have a smoke."
"Urgh... smoking kills, you know?"
"You know, I must have missed that bulletin. Thanks for telling me."
"No worries... Don't take all day."
She grabs her lighter and pack of smokes, shooting the asshole a dirty look as she pushes through the door. It wasn't enough that she worked in the dodgiest little gas station for miles, the closest thing down the road being the next gas station, she had to work with dick heads too. All because that was the only place to work when you lived at the corner of nowhere and barren desert.
It was hotter outside, which was almost hard to believe. The kind of heat that sticks to you, wraps around you, making everything... moist.
She hears the car before she sees it.
Damn, what is that? Chevy... Impala? Nice... '67 by the looks of it.
As it comes into view she notices the thick layer of dust on it, courtesy of this shit hole dry weather, but under that she can tell it's mint.
It pulls in. She's too busy admiring the car to notice how smoking the guys are that climb out of it. They're both over 6 foot tall, shoulders just as broad. These guys are fit. The one with the shaggy hair stretches his arms up over his head, taking in a big breath.
The one on the driver's side is moving a little slower, leans on the door as he gets out. She hears him grumble something, and sneeze messily into his sleeve.
"Bless you," says long hair, "Should have let me drive that last," he consults his watch, "7 hours. Geez, Dean."
Dean. God, even the name's sexy.
Dean coughs into his shoulder, leans even more against the door. "Whatever," pulls his coat on tighter.
She looks down at her cut off jeans and tank top. How can he even wear that in this heat? His buddy seems to notice.
"Dude, it's like a hundred degrees, you running a fever?" The big one starts filling her up, eyeing Dean, who wobbles, clutches the door with both hands and sneezes towards the ground.
"Probably," he groans, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "You can drive, Sammy."
Sammy and Dean... in a '67 chevy, mm. I'd take either of that, she thinks, looking Dean up and down, even with the flu.
"Maybe you should go and get some medicine," Sammy says, leaning over the trunk.
"Nah," Dean shivers, closes his door and almost loses his balance, "We've still got some painkillers, yeah?"
"You took the last ones this morning."
"Oh."
He takes out his wallet and starts looking through, like he's checking he has his card, puts them back and stuffs the wallet back in his back pocket. He turns away from the car, both hands cupped over his mouth and nose and let's out a powerful triple, then coughs for a bit, spits onto the ground. He mumbles an obscenity, and she can't help but smile.
"Alright," he says, his voice even more scratchy now, "you want anything?"
"I'll come in too," he says, hooking the pump back up, "Needa stretch my legs."
Dean heads her way, as he gets closer she can see how much he's sweating. She feels bad for him, summer colds are the worst. She drops the butt of her cigarette and stamps in out, she looks up and sees Dean running his eyes up her legs.
"Hello sweetheart," he grins. He's panting through his mouth.
"Nice ride you got there," she nods towards his car.
He glances back at it, smiling proudly. "Yeah, she sure is."
"'67?"
"Best year," he's looking at her again, his eyes a little glassy.
She nods, "You need help finding anything? We haven't got much in the way of medicine."
He raises an eyebrow.
She mentally kicks herself, "Sorry. Overheard."
Sammy's coming over now. Dean clears his throat, swallows like there's an apple stuck in there.
"I'll call if I need help," he says, winking. Oh, God, even a sneezing feverish mess, and he could still charm the pants off her, literally.
His friend catches up with him and they go inside.
She scuffs her shoes on the ground, looks down at her feet. Then lights another cigarette and waits for them to come back out.
They take longer than she thought they would, although Dean didn't look like he could move very fast at the moment. They come out with a couple of bags in their hands.
"Why'd you have to buy all that crap?" Dean grumbles.
"Cause it's been a week and I think now's the time you tried modern medicine."
Dean slaps him in the back of the head. Sammy laughs. Dean stops where he is, he hasn't seemed to notice her this time, which means she can go on observing. He cocks his head looking at the car.
"What's up?" Sammy looks back at him.
"Should put some air in the tyres..."
"I'll do it," he hands Dean the bags.
Dean throws them in the car, slouches into the passenger seat with his legs out, feet on the ground. He coughs into his hand, growls in plain annoyance. Sammy is starting on the back tyres.
"Take some of that cough syrup!" He calls out.
"Yeah, yeah!" Dean scrapes out, coughs again as he rummages through the bags.
He's really sweating now.
He gulps straight from the bottle, pushes the bags away from him as he struggles to rip his jacket off.
"Fuck, it's hot," she sees him say to no one in particular. He bundles up his jacket and uses it to wipe the sweat off his face. Sneezes into it for good measure. Poor fella is so congested, and his skin sickly white.
Sammy moves onto the front tyres.
"You're disgusting. I bought tissues for a reason."
"What, to waste money? Don't need tissues, Sam."
"Yeah cause that roll of toilet paper you stole from the motel is doing great. Trust me, Dean. You'll thank me later."
Dean stares straight ahead, his brow furrowed like he's annoyed. He starts rummaging in the bags again and pulls out the box, tearing it open and ripping five tissues out.
He sits staring at them, sniffs, his nose twitching. Then his head tips back and he whips it forward again sneezing seemingly endlessly into the great wad of tissues.
Sam stands up, looks through the car, "You alright?"
Dean blows his nose noisily, gurgling up a lot of crap. Then sits there, panting, as if spent by the task.
"That was... awesome." He groans and lists sideways into the bench seat.
Sammy puts the air tube back on the hook, notices her staring at him and gives her a smile and a nod, before getting in the driver's seat.
Dean still seems to be passed out with his legs out the side, door open.
Sam puts a hand on his shoulder, Dean starts upright and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"What's with this fucking heat?" He whinges, pulling the shirt off. His grey v-neck underneath has sweat patches under his arms and around the neck. He bends forward and she sees the shirt sticking to his back too.
"Thought you were cold?" Sammy says, pulling on Dean's shoulder again, trying to get him back in the car.
Dean just sniffs, leans his head back on the seat and lazily pulls his legs in.
"You gonna get the door?"
Dean evil stares Sam, leans out to grabs the door and almost falls out of the car, but Sam's got him by his belt, pulls him back in as the door shuts. Dean quickly winds the window down.
"We're stopping at the next motel," Sam says.
Dean leans forward, coughing into a fist.
"Got another 5 hours to Bobby's," Dean growls, his voice low and husky. "Just drive through. I'll be fine."
Category: Gen
Rating: M (adult themes)
Characters: OFC, Dean, Sam
Warning: This has swearing.
Word Count: 1404
Disclaimer: They're pretty, but they're not mine.
Summary: Just a quick one shot from an outsider POV, Sam and Dean stop at a gas station while on the road. Dean's a mess. And maybe she has a little sneeze!kink, or maybe she just thinks he's too hot to care that he's sick... either way.
A/N: Okay, I know there's other things I need to be finishing! But this just came to me and I couldn't ignore it. I wanted to see Sam and Dean, doing what they would do every single day but that they hardly ever put in the show, just a normal brotherly moment, of them stopping for gas and snacks etc while on the road to their next destination. I also have never written an outsider POV before so go easy on me please. I thought it'd be fun to try.
A/N 2: Also, present tense. Sorry if you don't like that sort of thing.
Gas Station
"Can you watch the counter?"
"Why? Where are you going?"
"To have a smoke."
"Urgh... smoking kills, you know?"
"You know, I must have missed that bulletin. Thanks for telling me."
"No worries... Don't take all day."
She grabs her lighter and pack of smokes, shooting the asshole a dirty look as she pushes through the door. It wasn't enough that she worked in the dodgiest little gas station for miles, the closest thing down the road being the next gas station, she had to work with dick heads too. All because that was the only place to work when you lived at the corner of nowhere and barren desert.
It was hotter outside, which was almost hard to believe. The kind of heat that sticks to you, wraps around you, making everything... moist.
She hears the car before she sees it.
Damn, what is that? Chevy... Impala? Nice... '67 by the looks of it.
As it comes into view she notices the thick layer of dust on it, courtesy of this shit hole dry weather, but under that she can tell it's mint.
It pulls in. She's too busy admiring the car to notice how smoking the guys are that climb out of it. They're both over 6 foot tall, shoulders just as broad. These guys are fit. The one with the shaggy hair stretches his arms up over his head, taking in a big breath.
The one on the driver's side is moving a little slower, leans on the door as he gets out. She hears him grumble something, and sneeze messily into his sleeve.
"Bless you," says long hair, "Should have let me drive that last," he consults his watch, "7 hours. Geez, Dean."
Dean. God, even the name's sexy.
Dean coughs into his shoulder, leans even more against the door. "Whatever," pulls his coat on tighter.
She looks down at her cut off jeans and tank top. How can he even wear that in this heat? His buddy seems to notice.
"Dude, it's like a hundred degrees, you running a fever?" The big one starts filling her up, eyeing Dean, who wobbles, clutches the door with both hands and sneezes towards the ground.
"Probably," he groans, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "You can drive, Sammy."
Sammy and Dean... in a '67 chevy, mm. I'd take either of that, she thinks, looking Dean up and down, even with the flu.
"Maybe you should go and get some medicine," Sammy says, leaning over the trunk.
"Nah," Dean shivers, closes his door and almost loses his balance, "We've still got some painkillers, yeah?"
"You took the last ones this morning."
"Oh."
He takes out his wallet and starts looking through, like he's checking he has his card, puts them back and stuffs the wallet back in his back pocket. He turns away from the car, both hands cupped over his mouth and nose and let's out a powerful triple, then coughs for a bit, spits onto the ground. He mumbles an obscenity, and she can't help but smile.
"Alright," he says, his voice even more scratchy now, "you want anything?"
"I'll come in too," he says, hooking the pump back up, "Needa stretch my legs."
Dean heads her way, as he gets closer she can see how much he's sweating. She feels bad for him, summer colds are the worst. She drops the butt of her cigarette and stamps in out, she looks up and sees Dean running his eyes up her legs.
"Hello sweetheart," he grins. He's panting through his mouth.
"Nice ride you got there," she nods towards his car.
He glances back at it, smiling proudly. "Yeah, she sure is."
"'67?"
"Best year," he's looking at her again, his eyes a little glassy.
She nods, "You need help finding anything? We haven't got much in the way of medicine."
He raises an eyebrow.
She mentally kicks herself, "Sorry. Overheard."
Sammy's coming over now. Dean clears his throat, swallows like there's an apple stuck in there.
"I'll call if I need help," he says, winking. Oh, God, even a sneezing feverish mess, and he could still charm the pants off her, literally.
His friend catches up with him and they go inside.
She scuffs her shoes on the ground, looks down at her feet. Then lights another cigarette and waits for them to come back out.
They take longer than she thought they would, although Dean didn't look like he could move very fast at the moment. They come out with a couple of bags in their hands.
"Why'd you have to buy all that crap?" Dean grumbles.
"Cause it's been a week and I think now's the time you tried modern medicine."
Dean slaps him in the back of the head. Sammy laughs. Dean stops where he is, he hasn't seemed to notice her this time, which means she can go on observing. He cocks his head looking at the car.
"What's up?" Sammy looks back at him.
"Should put some air in the tyres..."
"I'll do it," he hands Dean the bags.
Dean throws them in the car, slouches into the passenger seat with his legs out, feet on the ground. He coughs into his hand, growls in plain annoyance. Sammy is starting on the back tyres.
"Take some of that cough syrup!" He calls out.
"Yeah, yeah!" Dean scrapes out, coughs again as he rummages through the bags.
He's really sweating now.
He gulps straight from the bottle, pushes the bags away from him as he struggles to rip his jacket off.
"Fuck, it's hot," she sees him say to no one in particular. He bundles up his jacket and uses it to wipe the sweat off his face. Sneezes into it for good measure. Poor fella is so congested, and his skin sickly white.
Sammy moves onto the front tyres.
"You're disgusting. I bought tissues for a reason."
"What, to waste money? Don't need tissues, Sam."
"Yeah cause that roll of toilet paper you stole from the motel is doing great. Trust me, Dean. You'll thank me later."
Dean stares straight ahead, his brow furrowed like he's annoyed. He starts rummaging in the bags again and pulls out the box, tearing it open and ripping five tissues out.
He sits staring at them, sniffs, his nose twitching. Then his head tips back and he whips it forward again sneezing seemingly endlessly into the great wad of tissues.
Sam stands up, looks through the car, "You alright?"
Dean blows his nose noisily, gurgling up a lot of crap. Then sits there, panting, as if spent by the task.
"That was... awesome." He groans and lists sideways into the bench seat.
Sammy puts the air tube back on the hook, notices her staring at him and gives her a smile and a nod, before getting in the driver's seat.
Dean still seems to be passed out with his legs out the side, door open.
Sam puts a hand on his shoulder, Dean starts upright and starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"What's with this fucking heat?" He whinges, pulling the shirt off. His grey v-neck underneath has sweat patches under his arms and around the neck. He bends forward and she sees the shirt sticking to his back too.
"Thought you were cold?" Sammy says, pulling on Dean's shoulder again, trying to get him back in the car.
Dean just sniffs, leans his head back on the seat and lazily pulls his legs in.
"You gonna get the door?"
Dean evil stares Sam, leans out to grabs the door and almost falls out of the car, but Sam's got him by his belt, pulls him back in as the door shuts. Dean quickly winds the window down.
"We're stopping at the next motel," Sam says.
Dean leans forward, coughing into a fist.
"Got another 5 hours to Bobby's," Dean growls, his voice low and husky. "Just drive through. I'll be fine."