Fic'ing to Christmas - Day One - FIC: Parking Lot Horrors
Title: Parking Lot Horrors
Prompter: sarah_p
Prompt: When Dean HAS to park in the parking lot of a megastore, Dean HATES IT, and always picks the last spot that’s a zillion miles away.
Rating: PG-13
Betas: kaylashay81 and avamclean
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc., The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
All fics by authors participating in this year's Wishlist challenge, can be found here: wishlist_fic
My Masterlist is here: Fic'ing to Christmas
The Impala idled, a familiar rumble that was a constant in Dean’s life, had been since he could remember. The noise did little settle his agitation as he eased his foot off the brake and gave the Impala a little gas. She moved forward, slowly making her way forward toward the stream of people in the crosswalk that separated the store from the parking lot.
He applied the brake again to avoid an elderly woman blindly marching forward with her shopping cart. Pedestrians may have the right of way, but some didn’t have the sense to look out for themselves; blue-haired old ladies being at the top of his list of offenders.
Beside him Sam shifted, the leather groaning slightly underneath him. “You could just run her over,” Sam suggested as Dean continued to inch up.
“And put a ding in my baby?” he immediately responded, eyebrow going up in shock. “No way. He didn’t mean it baby,” he spoke to the car, and ran his hand around the steering wheel in a caress.
Sam snorted beside him. Honestly he didn’t expect any less, Sam had never loved the Impala as Dean had. Dean turned up the first aisle, letting the car remain in the center of the row while he drove.
“You missed a spot,” Sam pointed out, commenting on the prime parking spot he had passed. It was only three spots away from the main doors but it was in-between an Expedition hugging the line and a beat up S10 covered in dings and missing paint. No thank you. There was no need to subject his baby to crowded parking spaces and the potential other car doors to be slammed into his.
“I’ll get the next one,” Dean said instead.
“Well you just missed that one too,” Sam grumbled, pointing to the empty spot next to the cart corral.
Dean was barely able to contain the shudder at the suggestion. Obviously Sam knew nothing about the lazy shits that just gave their cart a push toward the corral and never bothered to make sure it went in. If he closed his eyes he could still see the dent in the back of his baby from a shopping cart mishap at the Albertson’s in Billings, Montana. No, there was no need to have that happen again. Besides Sam obviously didn’t see the shattered glass bottle up near the curb. Dean didn’t bother to justify driving past the spot.
He was about halfway down the aisle when a minivan threw on their reverse lights and came out of a parking spot at him. He slammed on the brakes and the horn at the same time. Sam jerked forward at the abrupt stop, his seatbelt caught, and he grunted as the air left him. Normally Dean would have laughed, but he was too busy cussing the stupid bitch soccer-mom. When he was sure that she was stopped and not moving again, he let off the brakes and slowly crept by her. His eyes almost bugged out of his head when he glanced over at the van and saw several kids pressed up against the glass, proudly waving around their middle fingers at him.
Sam shook his head and stared as they moved past. Finally he looked over at Dean. “Did they really just flip us off?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice.
“Yeah, gotta love today’s parenting,” Dean replied.
Finally they broke free of the rows of parked cars and Dean relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He drove past six or seven empty spots before he pulled the Impala into a spot on the right, a few from the end of the aisle.
“You really are going to park all the way out here?” Sam asked, looking around at the empty spaces surrounding them as Dean put the car in park and cut the engine.
“Quit your bitching Sammy. You should be thankful I didn’t park in the empty lot across the service road,” Dean replied with a tilt of his head toward the lot another two hundred feet away. “Come on, gotta salt and burn this Casper before Black Friday, otherwise Wal-Mart will have more to deal with than crazed shoppers.”
Prompter: sarah_p
Prompt: When Dean HAS to park in the parking lot of a megastore, Dean HATES IT, and always picks the last spot that’s a zillion miles away.
Rating: PG-13
Betas: kaylashay81 and avamclean
Fandom: Supernatural
Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, etc., The ideas and concepts in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission.
All fics by authors participating in this year's Wishlist challenge, can be found here: wishlist_fic
My Masterlist is here: Fic'ing to Christmas
The Impala idled, a familiar rumble that was a constant in Dean’s life, had been since he could remember. The noise did little settle his agitation as he eased his foot off the brake and gave the Impala a little gas. She moved forward, slowly making her way forward toward the stream of people in the crosswalk that separated the store from the parking lot.
He applied the brake again to avoid an elderly woman blindly marching forward with her shopping cart. Pedestrians may have the right of way, but some didn’t have the sense to look out for themselves; blue-haired old ladies being at the top of his list of offenders.
Beside him Sam shifted, the leather groaning slightly underneath him. “You could just run her over,” Sam suggested as Dean continued to inch up.
“And put a ding in my baby?” he immediately responded, eyebrow going up in shock. “No way. He didn’t mean it baby,” he spoke to the car, and ran his hand around the steering wheel in a caress.
Sam snorted beside him. Honestly he didn’t expect any less, Sam had never loved the Impala as Dean had. Dean turned up the first aisle, letting the car remain in the center of the row while he drove.
“You missed a spot,” Sam pointed out, commenting on the prime parking spot he had passed. It was only three spots away from the main doors but it was in-between an Expedition hugging the line and a beat up S10 covered in dings and missing paint. No thank you. There was no need to subject his baby to crowded parking spaces and the potential other car doors to be slammed into his.
“I’ll get the next one,” Dean said instead.
“Well you just missed that one too,” Sam grumbled, pointing to the empty spot next to the cart corral.
Dean was barely able to contain the shudder at the suggestion. Obviously Sam knew nothing about the lazy shits that just gave their cart a push toward the corral and never bothered to make sure it went in. If he closed his eyes he could still see the dent in the back of his baby from a shopping cart mishap at the Albertson’s in Billings, Montana. No, there was no need to have that happen again. Besides Sam obviously didn’t see the shattered glass bottle up near the curb. Dean didn’t bother to justify driving past the spot.
He was about halfway down the aisle when a minivan threw on their reverse lights and came out of a parking spot at him. He slammed on the brakes and the horn at the same time. Sam jerked forward at the abrupt stop, his seatbelt caught, and he grunted as the air left him. Normally Dean would have laughed, but he was too busy cussing the stupid bitch soccer-mom. When he was sure that she was stopped and not moving again, he let off the brakes and slowly crept by her. His eyes almost bugged out of his head when he glanced over at the van and saw several kids pressed up against the glass, proudly waving around their middle fingers at him.
Sam shook his head and stared as they moved past. Finally he looked over at Dean. “Did they really just flip us off?” He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice.
“Yeah, gotta love today’s parenting,” Dean replied.
Finally they broke free of the rows of parked cars and Dean relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He drove past six or seven empty spots before he pulled the Impala into a spot on the right, a few from the end of the aisle.
“You really are going to park all the way out here?” Sam asked, looking around at the empty spaces surrounding them as Dean put the car in park and cut the engine.
“Quit your bitching Sammy. You should be thankful I didn’t park in the empty lot across the service road,” Dean replied with a tilt of his head toward the lot another two hundred feet away. “Come on, gotta salt and burn this Casper before Black Friday, otherwise Wal-Mart will have more to deal with than crazed shoppers.”