Prompt fic number three! 'Billion Dollar Baby'
Finally, i know! I wanted to go in order, but the Dawn/Connor prompt from menomegirl is eluding me, so i had to skip to the next one. Soon, though, i promise!
too_rational asked for several things, but a timestamp for Generation Landslide is what caught my eye.
"You're kidding me, right?" Dean said, and Jamie looked up at him with that wide-eyed freakin' anime stare that beat Sam's best innocent look all to hell and gone.
"But these are the only ones that fit right. And they're the only dark ones. I can't wear acid washed jeans, Dad."
"They're thirty fuc- freakin' dollars!"
Jamie looked down at the jeans folded over his forearm and sighed. His shoulders sagged a little. "Yeah, okay. I can patch my other ones again. It's no big." He turned around and shuffled away. There was skin showing through a tear in the thigh of the faded jeans he had on, and the hems were a good three inches off the ground.
Over in the underwear aisle, Sam shot Dean a look that clearly said 'For fuck's sake, what is wrong with you?'
Dean spread his hands and widened his eyes, jaw clenched. 'Thirty fucking dollars! For jeans!'
Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head and went back to searching for underwear that wasn't striped or checked or spotted, his stiff neck and rigid shoulders clearly communicating 'You are one tight-fisted jackass'.
"Oh fuck me," Dean snarled, and a hippie-wanna-be chick with the cart full of kids gave him a considering look from behind a rack of pajamas. "Was not talking to you," Dean snapped, and stomped after Jamie.
His kid was dolefully re-hanging the pair of jeans and Dean reached over his shoulder and grabbed them - grabbed another pair for good measure, glancing to be sure the size was right. "You know what? Fine. You need jeans, I'll get you jeans. Me and Sam dressed out of the Goodwill store and it never hurt us but whatever, no problem, we don't need food or anything, we've got a whole trunk full of MRE's, thank you very fucking much, Bobby, so why not blow everything on designer jeans?!"
"They're buy two get one half off," Jamie said, and Dean glared for a long moment before reaching over and yanking one more pair of jeans off the rack and shoving the crumpled pile into Jamie's arms.
"Happy now?"
"You're the best, Dad." Jamie grinned, wide and white and that little dimple, not quite Sam-sized but close, and Dean turned on his heel and stomped away, toward the Auto Zone.
"Dude, I thought you'd lost him with the buy two thing," Sam said, appearing out of nowhere, and Jamie shook the three pair of jeans straight and draped them over his arm.
"I figured he was so pissed already, anything else would just send him right into La-La land and he wouldn't know what he was doing. Worked, too."
"You learn well, Padawan."
"Learned from the master," Jamie said, and held up his hand for a high-five.
too_rational asked for several things, but a timestamp for Generation Landslide is what caught my eye.
"You're kidding me, right?" Dean said, and Jamie looked up at him with that wide-eyed freakin' anime stare that beat Sam's best innocent look all to hell and gone.
"But these are the only ones that fit right. And they're the only dark ones. I can't wear acid washed jeans, Dad."
"They're thirty fuc- freakin' dollars!"
Jamie looked down at the jeans folded over his forearm and sighed. His shoulders sagged a little. "Yeah, okay. I can patch my other ones again. It's no big." He turned around and shuffled away. There was skin showing through a tear in the thigh of the faded jeans he had on, and the hems were a good three inches off the ground.
Over in the underwear aisle, Sam shot Dean a look that clearly said 'For fuck's sake, what is wrong with you?'
Dean spread his hands and widened his eyes, jaw clenched. 'Thirty fucking dollars! For jeans!'
Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head and went back to searching for underwear that wasn't striped or checked or spotted, his stiff neck and rigid shoulders clearly communicating 'You are one tight-fisted jackass'.
"Oh fuck me," Dean snarled, and a hippie-wanna-be chick with the cart full of kids gave him a considering look from behind a rack of pajamas. "Was not talking to you," Dean snapped, and stomped after Jamie.
His kid was dolefully re-hanging the pair of jeans and Dean reached over his shoulder and grabbed them - grabbed another pair for good measure, glancing to be sure the size was right. "You know what? Fine. You need jeans, I'll get you jeans. Me and Sam dressed out of the Goodwill store and it never hurt us but whatever, no problem, we don't need food or anything, we've got a whole trunk full of MRE's, thank you very fucking much, Bobby, so why not blow everything on designer jeans?!"
"They're buy two get one half off," Jamie said, and Dean glared for a long moment before reaching over and yanking one more pair of jeans off the rack and shoving the crumpled pile into Jamie's arms.
"Happy now?"
"You're the best, Dad." Jamie grinned, wide and white and that little dimple, not quite Sam-sized but close, and Dean turned on his heel and stomped away, toward the Auto Zone.
"Dude, I thought you'd lost him with the buy two thing," Sam said, appearing out of nowhere, and Jamie shook the three pair of jeans straight and draped them over his arm.
"I figured he was so pissed already, anything else would just send him right into La-La land and he wouldn't know what he was doing. Worked, too."
"You learn well, Padawan."
"Learned from the master," Jamie said, and held up his hand for a high-five.