![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyTitle: Under The California Sun (impalas and big trucks)
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean, Sam, OMC
Rating: various by chapter, NC-17 overall
Word Count:1089
Summary: I wondered what happened to those Lodi boys, too
Under The California Sun (impalas and big trucks)
"Dean, hang on there a few more days, son. I'm pretty sure it's a nest of harpies--"
"Harpies? A nest? How is that possible? It's like--all built up around here. They don’t hang out in the suburbs…unless they're living off all those fat Paris Hilton dogs--"
"What--? No, you know what, never mind. Just—do what I ask."
"Sorry, sir." Dean apologizes automatically, not really feeling remorse, but since Sammy left, it's like their roles are chiseled in stone. Dean kind of needs it that way. Not that he was falling apart without Sam. That would be stupid. It was just…he was used to someone needing him. Dad doesn't need him quite the same way, still it's better than nothing….
Dean's mind is slogging through the stew of odd conflicting emotions that thinking about Sam always sinks him in.
That fucker better be happy, Sam and his Jess, whoever the hell she was, that's all Dean had to say about it.
~~~o0o~~~
Dean's sitting on a bench back in the shadows of a bunch of huge pine trees. Everyone looks so fucking healthy and tan, so it makes him feel better seeing some faces that are obviously strained to the breaking point. Good. Fucking pansy-ass college boys driving around in cars their parents gave them, getting fucked up on Daddy's dime-- "Oo-kaay…" He rolls eyes at himself. Knows he's just being a dick now. Probably plenty of them sweating for it just like Sam….
He feels an itch between his shoulder blades and looks off to his left and. And there he is, walking with--hunh--a hell of a good looking girl. He wonders if this is 'Jess'. Pastor Jim'd said that last time he'd spoken to Sam, the boy mentioned a Jess. Of course. Knew the kid had just been going through some sort of freaky phase. That whole fucking summer was a freakin' mess…not that he remembered all that much about it.
Sam bends over the girl and hugs her. She leans back in his arms and giggles. They're both smiling like happy assholes. Dean huffs. Well…Sam does look good. He looks—shit, he looks giant. He's grown some. Still skinny as hell. Dean frowns and examines Sam through the Corporal's eyes. He's not been training. Sam should know better than that.
Sam is talking to the girl, he gathers up her hair, thick waves of dark brown, and holds it in a ponytail for her. She laughs and bats at his hand. Dean feels a sharp pain in his chest, rubs it away. Serves him right for eating suspect food off a cart.
There's a tickle of unease worming up his spine…he looks around and slips off the bench. It feels better to move deeper into the shadows. Meanwhile, Sam's hefted the girl's bag, grabs her hand and they head off to a covered walkway. Dean gets glimpses of Sam as they pass archways, he flashes in and out of the sun's light and Dean relaxes. Sam…Sam really does look happy. Fine. When he's out of state, he'll give Sam a call, or leave a message on his phone.
Sam comes to a stop in one of the archways--his head turns from side to side, his body language radiates tension. A flutter in Dean's chest makes it hard to breathe for a moment.
Shit. Dean knows Sam can't possibly see him but it *feels* like Sam's looking right at him. The boy steps through the archway and Dean wheels around and strolls casually away. He's not really worried that Sam will recognize him, not from that distance, and certainly not khaki sporting, robin's-egg blue polo shirt wearing Dean.
Dean gets hit on twice before he's off campus. Assholes.
~~~o0o~~~
"He looks good, Dad. Looks like he does have a girlfriend. She's about big as a minute—they look hysterical together." He grins at Dad's sharp snort of laughter. "She's pretty though, real pretty," Dean says and feels that sharp spike again. He better not be coming down with something.
"Yeah. Well, make sure you send him the money, Dean. If I know Sam, he's not getting enough to eat." There's a long silence that Dean knows is full of the man's self recrimination. "Okay. I'll be in touch. Take it easy until I get there—trying to make it as fast as I can. And Dean. Stay out of trouble."
"Sir? Trouble…?" Dean says in a voice dripping with offended innocence. Dad snorts again and hangs up.
Trouble, Dean smiles…might have to revisit that bar.
It doesn't quite work out like that.
~~~o0o~~~
Patrick stares at the yuppie looking guy walking purposefully away from the trees, double takes when he nails the ID…hunh.
So, he was right. Fucking Dean Winchester, he thinks. The guy who made him realize that he was gay…one of the brothers who trampled his heart.
He smiles a little. It's funny really, what were the odds that on one of his few and fucking far between visits here, Dean would show up too. He glances over at Sam and wonders, with just a thin edge of bitterness, who the girl is. Looks like he and Dean were right…little Sammy must have been going through a phase. Patrick doesn’t let his thoughts linger too long on Dean either. He glances over and huffs in irritation tinged amusement.
Dean hiding in the shadows was about as inconspicuous as a stripper in church. No doubt he's here for the same reason Patrick is: spying on Sam. Looking out for him...
He sees Dean backpedal deeper into the shadows, and turn about to walk away. Patrick snorts, and walks off himself, not checking to see what direction Dean is headed in—doesn't matter. He doesn’t want to talk to either Winchester. Sam…well, he just needs someone to keep an eye on him from time to time. Patrick sighs—yeah. Sam looked happy, he thinks. Sweet, just like he did at fourteen. Giant now, Patrick thinks, but probably still a sweetheart like he'd been back then…well, when he wasn't being kinda bitchy, he smiles.
He's out from under the trees, and trotting towards where he'd left his car. In the bright sun, the little bit of activity makes him sweat right away. Patrick sweeps his hair off his face and frowns. He peels long strands off his cheek, his lip, and wipes his forehead. Done here so—it was back to the hotel, and then on the road again. He's got no reason to stay now the job's done.
part four
TBC
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean, Sam, OMC
Rating: various by chapter, NC-17 overall
Word Count:1089
Summary: I wondered what happened to those Lodi boys, too
Under The California Sun (impalas and big trucks)
"Dean, hang on there a few more days, son. I'm pretty sure it's a nest of harpies--"
"Harpies? A nest? How is that possible? It's like--all built up around here. They don’t hang out in the suburbs…unless they're living off all those fat Paris Hilton dogs--"
"What--? No, you know what, never mind. Just—do what I ask."
"Sorry, sir." Dean apologizes automatically, not really feeling remorse, but since Sammy left, it's like their roles are chiseled in stone. Dean kind of needs it that way. Not that he was falling apart without Sam. That would be stupid. It was just…he was used to someone needing him. Dad doesn't need him quite the same way, still it's better than nothing….
Dean's mind is slogging through the stew of odd conflicting emotions that thinking about Sam always sinks him in.
That fucker better be happy, Sam and his Jess, whoever the hell she was, that's all Dean had to say about it.
Dean's sitting on a bench back in the shadows of a bunch of huge pine trees. Everyone looks so fucking healthy and tan, so it makes him feel better seeing some faces that are obviously strained to the breaking point. Good. Fucking pansy-ass college boys driving around in cars their parents gave them, getting fucked up on Daddy's dime-- "Oo-kaay…" He rolls eyes at himself. Knows he's just being a dick now. Probably plenty of them sweating for it just like Sam….
He feels an itch between his shoulder blades and looks off to his left and. And there he is, walking with--hunh--a hell of a good looking girl. He wonders if this is 'Jess'. Pastor Jim'd said that last time he'd spoken to Sam, the boy mentioned a Jess. Of course. Knew the kid had just been going through some sort of freaky phase. That whole fucking summer was a freakin' mess…not that he remembered all that much about it.
Sam bends over the girl and hugs her. She leans back in his arms and giggles. They're both smiling like happy assholes. Dean huffs. Well…Sam does look good. He looks—shit, he looks giant. He's grown some. Still skinny as hell. Dean frowns and examines Sam through the Corporal's eyes. He's not been training. Sam should know better than that.
Sam is talking to the girl, he gathers up her hair, thick waves of dark brown, and holds it in a ponytail for her. She laughs and bats at his hand. Dean feels a sharp pain in his chest, rubs it away. Serves him right for eating suspect food off a cart.
There's a tickle of unease worming up his spine…he looks around and slips off the bench. It feels better to move deeper into the shadows. Meanwhile, Sam's hefted the girl's bag, grabs her hand and they head off to a covered walkway. Dean gets glimpses of Sam as they pass archways, he flashes in and out of the sun's light and Dean relaxes. Sam…Sam really does look happy. Fine. When he's out of state, he'll give Sam a call, or leave a message on his phone.
Sam comes to a stop in one of the archways--his head turns from side to side, his body language radiates tension. A flutter in Dean's chest makes it hard to breathe for a moment.
Shit. Dean knows Sam can't possibly see him but it *feels* like Sam's looking right at him. The boy steps through the archway and Dean wheels around and strolls casually away. He's not really worried that Sam will recognize him, not from that distance, and certainly not khaki sporting, robin's-egg blue polo shirt wearing Dean.
Dean gets hit on twice before he's off campus. Assholes.
"He looks good, Dad. Looks like he does have a girlfriend. She's about big as a minute—they look hysterical together." He grins at Dad's sharp snort of laughter. "She's pretty though, real pretty," Dean says and feels that sharp spike again. He better not be coming down with something.
"Yeah. Well, make sure you send him the money, Dean. If I know Sam, he's not getting enough to eat." There's a long silence that Dean knows is full of the man's self recrimination. "Okay. I'll be in touch. Take it easy until I get there—trying to make it as fast as I can. And Dean. Stay out of trouble."
"Sir? Trouble…?" Dean says in a voice dripping with offended innocence. Dad snorts again and hangs up.
Trouble, Dean smiles…might have to revisit that bar.
It doesn't quite work out like that.
Patrick stares at the yuppie looking guy walking purposefully away from the trees, double takes when he nails the ID…hunh.
So, he was right. Fucking Dean Winchester, he thinks. The guy who made him realize that he was gay…one of the brothers who trampled his heart.
He smiles a little. It's funny really, what were the odds that on one of his few and fucking far between visits here, Dean would show up too. He glances over at Sam and wonders, with just a thin edge of bitterness, who the girl is. Looks like he and Dean were right…little Sammy must have been going through a phase. Patrick doesn’t let his thoughts linger too long on Dean either. He glances over and huffs in irritation tinged amusement.
Dean hiding in the shadows was about as inconspicuous as a stripper in church. No doubt he's here for the same reason Patrick is: spying on Sam. Looking out for him...
He sees Dean backpedal deeper into the shadows, and turn about to walk away. Patrick snorts, and walks off himself, not checking to see what direction Dean is headed in—doesn't matter. He doesn’t want to talk to either Winchester. Sam…well, he just needs someone to keep an eye on him from time to time. Patrick sighs—yeah. Sam looked happy, he thinks. Sweet, just like he did at fourteen. Giant now, Patrick thinks, but probably still a sweetheart like he'd been back then…well, when he wasn't being kinda bitchy, he smiles.
He's out from under the trees, and trotting towards where he'd left his car. In the bright sun, the little bit of activity makes him sweat right away. Patrick sweeps his hair off his face and frowns. He peels long strands off his cheek, his lip, and wipes his forehead. Done here so—it was back to the hotel, and then on the road again. He's got no reason to stay now the job's done.
part four
TBC
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
7/1/09 05:07 pm (UTC)