I wrote another fic!
Yay! I did it! And I'm fairly proud of my work. Hope you enjoy my little story! I wrote this for doylescordy's prompt on hoodie_time's Dean-focused hurt/comfort comment-fic meme (#4): Gen. Dean gets injured in the stupidest, most ridiculous way ever, and it's not even on a hunt.
And major thanks to shallowz for the quick beta. *hugs*
Outsider POV. 850 words.
Never mess with a Dodge Ram man
Driving through town gave me lots of opportunities to show off my new beauty. This was the first somewhat warm day we've had after several weeks of snowstorms, sending everyone flocking outdoors. I could see the heads of all my neighbors turning to watch my new Badass Black Dodge Ram as I made my way down Main Street to the local hotspot, Jilly's Diner. I waved coolly to a few of my buddies hanging around outside the hardware shop and wolf-whistled at the Miller lady as she slogged down the sidewalk in her tight jeans and red snow boots. Yeah, she wants me.
I pulled my new Dodge Ram into the diner parking lot, slamming through patches of slush and ice. I even managed to soak that Thomas kid standing at the corner bus stop. Pleased with myself, I parked my beauty next to an old, worn-out-looking black muscle car covered in mud and muck from the recent nasty weather we've been having. Out-of-state plates, I noticed when I got out and started toward the diner. Geez, that thing looked like an antique. I sneered at the piece of junk as I passed it. Probably driven by some old geezer who could barely see over the steering wheel while he sped down the road at a whopping 20 mph.
Without even thinking about it, I slid in under the side of the awning fronting the place, careful not to hit the support pole, because everyone knows that walking under the front of the slanted awning after a heavy snow means getting hit by run-off as it all thaws. The door jangled as I entered and took a deep sniff of Jilly's home cooking. She might be a stuck-up, frigid bitch, but she could cook up a meatloaf that'd make a grown man cry. Ignoring the "Please wait to be seated" sign at the door, I sauntered toward my usual booth in the corner.
Jilly nodded at me from behind the counter before coming out with a cup of coffee. She set the coffee in front of me with the barest acknowledgment and a mumbled "be right back", then turned to the booth across from me to wait on the pretty boys sitting there.
Pretty boys smiled winningly at her and placed their orders; Sissy Britches chose a salad while Playboy got a burger and a side of fries. As Jilly turned back to me, the dazzling smile she must'ave been flashing those losers fell from her face. I wanted to show those jerks that they weren't the only ones who could work a smile, so I turned on the charm. I should'a known better than to try it with Jilly, though, 'cause she just repeated my order, rapped her pencil against her order pad, and returned to the counter.
Playboy grinned at me, flashing his teeth in a way that made me want to knock them out of his mouth. I growled a threatening "what're you looking at?" at the guy and Sissy Britches interrupted, putting up his hands in apology and mouthing something about how his buddy didn't want any trouble. Playboy just kept grinning at me, even after Jilly came back with our plates.
Seething, I focused my attention on my meal, ignoring the way Jilly's voice lilted and her hips swayed for these two punks. Damn, and I was in such a good mood earlier.
I could hear'em talking about their next job and how next time Playboy should let Sissy Britches do all the talking and plans for a roadtrip or something. What a couple of jackasses.
We ended up paying our bills at the same time and they walked out the door ahead of me, still elbow-deep in their stupid conversation. That's when I saw my chance to really get these punks. Making like it was an accident, I bumped into the awning support pole… just a nudge, really, but that's all it took. That awning wobbled, sending a soggy slab of ice and slush crashing down on top of Playboy's head, causing him to lose his footing and fall on his ass with a muttered "son of a bitch".
Of course, I pretended to be all apologetic, offering the guy a hand to help him up. Dude just glowered at me, told me where to stick it. Suited me just fine. I cackled at him and headed out to my truck. Behind me, I heard Sissy Britches say something about a concussion and broken wrist. Looking back, I saw Sissy Britches helping his buddy up and supporting him as they limped into the parking lot. A trail of blood streamed down the side of Playboy's head and he held one of his arms close to his body like he was afraid to move it. Oh, yeah, I got him good.
I was still laughing as I climbed into my truck. Backing out alongside those two jerks, I let my wheels spin, drenching them in grungy slush before peeling out. Yup, that did wonders for my mood.
I drove back down Main Street to show off my truck again.
~End~
---
And major thanks to shallowz for the quick beta. *hugs*
Outsider POV. 850 words.
Never mess with a Dodge Ram man
Driving through town gave me lots of opportunities to show off my new beauty. This was the first somewhat warm day we've had after several weeks of snowstorms, sending everyone flocking outdoors. I could see the heads of all my neighbors turning to watch my new Badass Black Dodge Ram as I made my way down Main Street to the local hotspot, Jilly's Diner. I waved coolly to a few of my buddies hanging around outside the hardware shop and wolf-whistled at the Miller lady as she slogged down the sidewalk in her tight jeans and red snow boots. Yeah, she wants me.
I pulled my new Dodge Ram into the diner parking lot, slamming through patches of slush and ice. I even managed to soak that Thomas kid standing at the corner bus stop. Pleased with myself, I parked my beauty next to an old, worn-out-looking black muscle car covered in mud and muck from the recent nasty weather we've been having. Out-of-state plates, I noticed when I got out and started toward the diner. Geez, that thing looked like an antique. I sneered at the piece of junk as I passed it. Probably driven by some old geezer who could barely see over the steering wheel while he sped down the road at a whopping 20 mph.
Without even thinking about it, I slid in under the side of the awning fronting the place, careful not to hit the support pole, because everyone knows that walking under the front of the slanted awning after a heavy snow means getting hit by run-off as it all thaws. The door jangled as I entered and took a deep sniff of Jilly's home cooking. She might be a stuck-up, frigid bitch, but she could cook up a meatloaf that'd make a grown man cry. Ignoring the "Please wait to be seated" sign at the door, I sauntered toward my usual booth in the corner.
Jilly nodded at me from behind the counter before coming out with a cup of coffee. She set the coffee in front of me with the barest acknowledgment and a mumbled "be right back", then turned to the booth across from me to wait on the pretty boys sitting there.
Pretty boys smiled winningly at her and placed their orders; Sissy Britches chose a salad while Playboy got a burger and a side of fries. As Jilly turned back to me, the dazzling smile she must'ave been flashing those losers fell from her face. I wanted to show those jerks that they weren't the only ones who could work a smile, so I turned on the charm. I should'a known better than to try it with Jilly, though, 'cause she just repeated my order, rapped her pencil against her order pad, and returned to the counter.
Playboy grinned at me, flashing his teeth in a way that made me want to knock them out of his mouth. I growled a threatening "what're you looking at?" at the guy and Sissy Britches interrupted, putting up his hands in apology and mouthing something about how his buddy didn't want any trouble. Playboy just kept grinning at me, even after Jilly came back with our plates.
Seething, I focused my attention on my meal, ignoring the way Jilly's voice lilted and her hips swayed for these two punks. Damn, and I was in such a good mood earlier.
I could hear'em talking about their next job and how next time Playboy should let Sissy Britches do all the talking and plans for a roadtrip or something. What a couple of jackasses.
We ended up paying our bills at the same time and they walked out the door ahead of me, still elbow-deep in their stupid conversation. That's when I saw my chance to really get these punks. Making like it was an accident, I bumped into the awning support pole… just a nudge, really, but that's all it took. That awning wobbled, sending a soggy slab of ice and slush crashing down on top of Playboy's head, causing him to lose his footing and fall on his ass with a muttered "son of a bitch".
Of course, I pretended to be all apologetic, offering the guy a hand to help him up. Dude just glowered at me, told me where to stick it. Suited me just fine. I cackled at him and headed out to my truck. Behind me, I heard Sissy Britches say something about a concussion and broken wrist. Looking back, I saw Sissy Britches helping his buddy up and supporting him as they limped into the parking lot. A trail of blood streamed down the side of Playboy's head and he held one of his arms close to his body like he was afraid to move it. Oh, yeah, I got him good.
I was still laughing as I climbed into my truck. Backing out alongside those two jerks, I let my wheels spin, drenching them in grungy slush before peeling out. Yup, that did wonders for my mood.
I drove back down Main Street to show off my truck again.
~End~
---