Fic: Fast Cars, Sweet Deals and Lust at First Sight (1/1) A Chance Winchesterverse Story
Fic: Fast Cars, Sweet Deals and Lust at First Sight (1/1) A Chance Winchesterverse Story.
Summary: Chance wants to know how his parents met.
Author: pen37
word count: 1,375
Fandoms: Supernatural/Smallville
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: pg for language
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge.
Prompt #29 Birth.
The table is here.
As promised, I've included the winner of the
winchullivancommunity Icon Challenge in this fic.
nelliewu, this is for you.
“Dad, how did you and Mom meet?”
Dean glanced up from packing rock salt into shotgun shell casings and then down to the floor, where six-year-old Chance Winchester was hard at work making a valentine.
“Why do you ask?” He looked down at Chance.
Chance looked up at Dean with the same serious expression that Dean had seen Chloe give him on multiple occasions.
For the most part, everyone said that Chance was his spitting image. But occasionally, Chance would look at him that way, and there could be no doubt - at least in his mind - that the kid was half Chloe. The brainy half, anyway. If the kid ever became a criminal genius, it would be all her fault.
He noted that Chance had misspelled Lena Luthor, and made a mental note to lock the kid up until he was thirty.
“You love Mom, right?”
“Of course.” Dean nodded his head. Chloe and he argued all the time, but it was never serious. He'd chase her around the house, she'd let him catch her, and they'd make up. They had the making up part down to an art form. Making up was how they'd gotten Chance in the first place.
“Did you love Mom right away?”
Dean shrugged. “Well, she drove me crazy right away.”
“What happened?”
Dean put down the rock salt and shell wadding, and scooped Chance up. “I guess it started with her car.”
* * *
He couldn't help but be a little bit proud of the sign over the door. Winchester Auto Body. Given his record, he had been pretty certain that he'd have to use an alias. But Ellen still knew some of Ash's old college buddies. After all they'd been through together, now that they'd agreed to cut the hunting back to part-time, she'd called in a favor to a girl named Nelliewu. Within a few hours, it was safe for the Winchester boys to use their real names again.
It was amazing what you could do with computers. You didn't even have to make documents vanish. You could just wrap them up in so much red tape that no one would ever find them. So Sam Winchester was pursuing that law school degree at Met U, and Dean was opening his own business - both under their real names.
He was just thinking about giving Ellen a call, when she pulled up. It was lust at first sight.
She looked like eight kinds of trouble. He could just tell by looking at her. Maybe it was those gorgeous green eyes. Or all that blonde hair. Or that figure that was just designed to leave him tripping all over himself.
Or maybe it was the fact that her car looked like it had been chewed up and spit out by a dinosaur.
“What the hell did you do to your car?” He looked at it in astonishment.
“It was chewed up and spit out by a dinosaur,” she said with an eye roll.
He blinked at that. “Come again?”
“Never mind,” she said with a huff. “Just fix it. I don't care what it costs.”
Dean grinned, and with those magic words the estimate for fixing her little foreign jobber tripled.
* * *
A few weeks later, when she came back to pick up the car, he expected her to raise holy hell over the bill. Instead she looked at it, and then gave him a yeah right expression.
“Can we find some way to tack on another couple of hundred dollars?” she snarked.
“You said I don't care what it costs, didn't you sweetheart?” He smirked at her lazily.
“Sorry. I didn't know you wanted my arm and my leg. Would you also like my firstborn son?”
“Cute,” he rolled his eyes. “This is what you get for having a foreign car, darlin'. I had to special order some of these parts.”
“It's a Yaris, not a Ferrari.”
“Now if you had a classic, Detroit made beauty like that --” He pointed to the Impala.
“I wouldn't be able to find a parking space,” she interrupted. “It's like a rolling battleship. Why would you ever need that much trunk space? For moving a body?”
Dean bit back his retort that Yes, as a matter of fact, he'd moved bodies with it before and it did a damn fine job. No need to freak out the civilian.
She grumbled the whole time she'd paid the bill. When she left, he thought that was it.
Until the next morning, when she turned up with the car. Somehow it looked worse than before.
“What did you do?” He stared at it incredulously.
“A gargoyle fell on it,” she said.
“A gargoyle?” He looked at her suspiciously. “What do you do for a living?”
“I'm a reporter for the Daily Planet.”
He nodded. “Have you ever considered living in Metropolis and just walking to work?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Driving relaxes me.”
* * *
Over the next few months, the blonde - whose name was Chloe -- continued to bring her car to him - with increasingly far-fetched stories. The car had been driven into Crater Lake, buried by a disgruntled source, turned into a giant meca-war suit, and half-eaten by irradiated slugs.
All the while, Dean was discovering more and more about her. After the slug incident, he'd thought that maybe she was a hunter. A really, really bizarre hunter.
Then after he found the leather get-up in the trunk, he'd weaseled a confession out of her. She was the communications expert for the Justice League of America. And knowing that was enough to get her to come over for pizza dinner and hold the flashlight for him while he worked on the Impala.
She hadn't even complained - which gave Dean the impression that maybe she liked him a little bit.
“So what does the communications expert for the JLA do?” he asked her as he wrestled with the distributor cap.
“Think of me like a den mother,” Chloe said “I make sure that they're all marching in the same direction, and occasionally keep them from tripping on their own capes.”
Dean grinned. It was kind of funny to think of Superman tripping on his cape. But that didn't answer the question he wanted to know most.
“So why not make Batman or Green Arrow or whoever buy you a new car? Why keep bringing the trashed-out one to me?”
She grinned at him. “If I did that, then I wouldn't get to see you all the time.”
Dean found himself grinning back. “So do I get to see you in uniform?”
“That depends on whether you're going to charge me for this latest fix?”
He glanced over at her wrecked car - this time Superman had thrown Bizarro into it. It had the man-shaped, caved-in dent in the roof to show for it.
“Well, there are all kinds of ways to pay, darlin',” he grinned lazily at her. “We should probably talk about this upstairs.”
“You're encouragable.”
“You're encouraging.”
She rolled her eyes, and then, with a good-natured smile, leaned forward and kissed him.
They never really got the Impala back together that night.
* * *
“So you fell in love with mom because Uncle Clark and Uncle Ollie kept wrecking her car?” Chance asked with a look of confusion.
Dean looked down at his kid, and figured that there were things about love - and lust - that a six-year-old wasn't ready to know.
“Close. I fell for your mom. I just got to know her because your aunts and uncles kept wrecking her car,” Dean said.
“Oh,” Chance nodded. “But you guys knew you were going to have me all along.”
“We did?” Dean looked at his son and wondered what piece of irrefutable, six-year-old logic Chance was going to use on him.
Chance gave him a well duh look. “You told me that mom said so.”
“I did?”
“Yeah Dad,” Chance said as he rolled his eyes. “Mom said: ‘Why don't you just take my firstborn son?’ Isn't that me?”
Dean let out a chuckle, and pulled Chance into a hug. “You know what? You're right. And it was the best deal I ever made.”
Summary: Chance wants to know how his parents met.
Author: pen37
word count: 1,375
Fandoms: Supernatural/Smallville
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: pg for language
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge.
Prompt #29 Birth.
The table is here.
As promised, I've included the winner of the
winchullivancommunity Icon Challenge in this fic.
nelliewu, this is for you.
“Dad, how did you and Mom meet?”
Dean glanced up from packing rock salt into shotgun shell casings and then down to the floor, where six-year-old Chance Winchester was hard at work making a valentine.
“Why do you ask?” He looked down at Chance.
Chance looked up at Dean with the same serious expression that Dean had seen Chloe give him on multiple occasions.
For the most part, everyone said that Chance was his spitting image. But occasionally, Chance would look at him that way, and there could be no doubt - at least in his mind - that the kid was half Chloe. The brainy half, anyway. If the kid ever became a criminal genius, it would be all her fault.
He noted that Chance had misspelled Lena Luthor, and made a mental note to lock the kid up until he was thirty.
“You love Mom, right?”
“Of course.” Dean nodded his head. Chloe and he argued all the time, but it was never serious. He'd chase her around the house, she'd let him catch her, and they'd make up. They had the making up part down to an art form. Making up was how they'd gotten Chance in the first place.
“Did you love Mom right away?”
Dean shrugged. “Well, she drove me crazy right away.”
“What happened?”
Dean put down the rock salt and shell wadding, and scooped Chance up. “I guess it started with her car.”
* * *
He couldn't help but be a little bit proud of the sign over the door. Winchester Auto Body. Given his record, he had been pretty certain that he'd have to use an alias. But Ellen still knew some of Ash's old college buddies. After all they'd been through together, now that they'd agreed to cut the hunting back to part-time, she'd called in a favor to a girl named Nelliewu. Within a few hours, it was safe for the Winchester boys to use their real names again.
It was amazing what you could do with computers. You didn't even have to make documents vanish. You could just wrap them up in so much red tape that no one would ever find them. So Sam Winchester was pursuing that law school degree at Met U, and Dean was opening his own business - both under their real names.
He was just thinking about giving Ellen a call, when she pulled up. It was lust at first sight.
She looked like eight kinds of trouble. He could just tell by looking at her. Maybe it was those gorgeous green eyes. Or all that blonde hair. Or that figure that was just designed to leave him tripping all over himself.
Or maybe it was the fact that her car looked like it had been chewed up and spit out by a dinosaur.
“What the hell did you do to your car?” He looked at it in astonishment.
“It was chewed up and spit out by a dinosaur,” she said with an eye roll.
He blinked at that. “Come again?”
“Never mind,” she said with a huff. “Just fix it. I don't care what it costs.”
Dean grinned, and with those magic words the estimate for fixing her little foreign jobber tripled.
* * *
A few weeks later, when she came back to pick up the car, he expected her to raise holy hell over the bill. Instead she looked at it, and then gave him a yeah right expression.
“Can we find some way to tack on another couple of hundred dollars?” she snarked.
“You said I don't care what it costs, didn't you sweetheart?” He smirked at her lazily.
“Sorry. I didn't know you wanted my arm and my leg. Would you also like my firstborn son?”
“Cute,” he rolled his eyes. “This is what you get for having a foreign car, darlin'. I had to special order some of these parts.”
“It's a Yaris, not a Ferrari.”
“Now if you had a classic, Detroit made beauty like that --” He pointed to the Impala.
“I wouldn't be able to find a parking space,” she interrupted. “It's like a rolling battleship. Why would you ever need that much trunk space? For moving a body?”
Dean bit back his retort that Yes, as a matter of fact, he'd moved bodies with it before and it did a damn fine job. No need to freak out the civilian.
She grumbled the whole time she'd paid the bill. When she left, he thought that was it.
Until the next morning, when she turned up with the car. Somehow it looked worse than before.
“What did you do?” He stared at it incredulously.
“A gargoyle fell on it,” she said.
“A gargoyle?” He looked at her suspiciously. “What do you do for a living?”
“I'm a reporter for the Daily Planet.”
He nodded. “Have you ever considered living in Metropolis and just walking to work?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Driving relaxes me.”
* * *
Over the next few months, the blonde - whose name was Chloe -- continued to bring her car to him - with increasingly far-fetched stories. The car had been driven into Crater Lake, buried by a disgruntled source, turned into a giant meca-war suit, and half-eaten by irradiated slugs.
All the while, Dean was discovering more and more about her. After the slug incident, he'd thought that maybe she was a hunter. A really, really bizarre hunter.
Then after he found the leather get-up in the trunk, he'd weaseled a confession out of her. She was the communications expert for the Justice League of America. And knowing that was enough to get her to come over for pizza dinner and hold the flashlight for him while he worked on the Impala.
She hadn't even complained - which gave Dean the impression that maybe she liked him a little bit.
“So what does the communications expert for the JLA do?” he asked her as he wrestled with the distributor cap.
“Think of me like a den mother,” Chloe said “I make sure that they're all marching in the same direction, and occasionally keep them from tripping on their own capes.”
Dean grinned. It was kind of funny to think of Superman tripping on his cape. But that didn't answer the question he wanted to know most.
“So why not make Batman or Green Arrow or whoever buy you a new car? Why keep bringing the trashed-out one to me?”
She grinned at him. “If I did that, then I wouldn't get to see you all the time.”
Dean found himself grinning back. “So do I get to see you in uniform?”
“That depends on whether you're going to charge me for this latest fix?”
He glanced over at her wrecked car - this time Superman had thrown Bizarro into it. It had the man-shaped, caved-in dent in the roof to show for it.
“Well, there are all kinds of ways to pay, darlin',” he grinned lazily at her. “We should probably talk about this upstairs.”
“You're encouragable.”
“You're encouraging.”
She rolled her eyes, and then, with a good-natured smile, leaned forward and kissed him.
They never really got the Impala back together that night.
* * *
“So you fell in love with mom because Uncle Clark and Uncle Ollie kept wrecking her car?” Chance asked with a look of confusion.
Dean looked down at his kid, and figured that there were things about love - and lust - that a six-year-old wasn't ready to know.
“Close. I fell for your mom. I just got to know her because your aunts and uncles kept wrecking her car,” Dean said.
“Oh,” Chance nodded. “But you guys knew you were going to have me all along.”
“We did?” Dean looked at his son and wondered what piece of irrefutable, six-year-old logic Chance was going to use on him.
Chance gave him a well duh look. “You told me that mom said so.”
“I did?”
“Yeah Dad,” Chance said as he rolled his eyes. “Mom said: ‘Why don't you just take my firstborn son?’ Isn't that me?”
Dean let out a chuckle, and pulled Chance into a hug. “You know what? You're right. And it was the best deal I ever made.”