SPN FIC - Well-Traveled
Life's all about the little things, Dean figures -- in this case, a cold beer, a little downtime, and some good conversation.
CHARACTERS: Dean, OFC
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 545 words
WELL-TRAVELED
By Carol Davis
"So," she says as she skates a fistful of damp rag along the pitted surface of the bar. "How many you been to?"
He remembers Sammy solemnly informing him and Dad how many millions of bacteria lurk in one of those rags. It was during Sam's Bacteria Phase, a good three days of non-stop fun that ended (as most things did) when Dad slammed the door on it.
To Dean's mind, if it's not visible, it's not a problem.
"Lower forty-eight," he shrugs. "All of 'em."
"Really."
They've got a local brew on tap. It's all kinds of awesome, and he suspects he must look a lot like a cat basking in a sunbeam as he takes another long pull from his mug. Life's all about the little things, he figures. Beer and a bowl of peanuts. Inside his head, Sam's voice says something about his sodium intake, but he ignores it. "Flipped over the last one when I was fourteen, I think. M' dad traveled a lot. For his job."
"No Alaska? Hawaii?"
"Can't drive to Hawaii. And Alaska's too friggin' cold."
She gestures for him to lift his elbow so she can swipe that part of the bar. "Looks kind of nice in the summer. I saw it on Discovery Channel. Lots of wildflowers."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Other countries?"
"Mexico. Canada."
"Because you can drive there?" she guesses.
"You got it."
"National parks?"
Like she had to go there. Sam used to entertain himself in the car by rattling off the list of parks. That one Dad okayed, as long as Sam could do it silently. Flipping up a finger for each, forehead knitted into a frown, Dean says, "Carlsbad. Everglades. Joshua Tree. Rocky Mountain. Badlands."
When he runs out of fingers on his beer-free hand, he's stuck.
"Grand Canyon?" she prompts.
That's a sore subject. So's Yellowstone.
Death Valley's a situation all its own.
"Got a few places left on the list," he admits. "Figure I'll get around to 'em sooner or later. Ever seen the world's largest ball of twine?"
"I have not," she says.
"Carhenge? Gravity Hill?"
"Booger Hollow Trading Post," she says, like it's a trump card and he might as well give up and fold. "Home of the Boogerburger."
"Seriously."
"America the Beautiful," she grins.
It is, he thinks. If you ignore the blood and the crazy and the frustration. The motels with no water pressure and the diners with shitty coffee. Country's full of little out-of-the-way spots that'll take your breath away.
Or make you laugh till you puke.
"Gotta go," he says as he slides off the barstool, draining the last little bit of that awesome local brew from the mug. There's a couple of crumpled dollars left in the pocket of his jeans, and he lays those on the bar for her in thanks for good service, good company. "Got somebody waiting for me."
He doesn't bother to elaborate. If she thinks the somebody's female, no harm done. This wasn't going anywhere anyway; there's a ring on her left hand, and she's betrayed no sign of being unhappy with that situation.
"Safe travels," she says as she gathers up her tip.
"Yeah," he nods as he steps away from the bar. "You too."
* * * * *
CHARACTERS: Dean, OFC
GENRE: Gen
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: None
LENGTH: 545 words
WELL-TRAVELED
By Carol Davis
"So," she says as she skates a fistful of damp rag along the pitted surface of the bar. "How many you been to?"
He remembers Sammy solemnly informing him and Dad how many millions of bacteria lurk in one of those rags. It was during Sam's Bacteria Phase, a good three days of non-stop fun that ended (as most things did) when Dad slammed the door on it.
To Dean's mind, if it's not visible, it's not a problem.
"Lower forty-eight," he shrugs. "All of 'em."
"Really."
They've got a local brew on tap. It's all kinds of awesome, and he suspects he must look a lot like a cat basking in a sunbeam as he takes another long pull from his mug. Life's all about the little things, he figures. Beer and a bowl of peanuts. Inside his head, Sam's voice says something about his sodium intake, but he ignores it. "Flipped over the last one when I was fourteen, I think. M' dad traveled a lot. For his job."
"No Alaska? Hawaii?"
"Can't drive to Hawaii. And Alaska's too friggin' cold."
She gestures for him to lift his elbow so she can swipe that part of the bar. "Looks kind of nice in the summer. I saw it on Discovery Channel. Lots of wildflowers."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Other countries?"
"Mexico. Canada."
"Because you can drive there?" she guesses.
"You got it."
"National parks?"
Like she had to go there. Sam used to entertain himself in the car by rattling off the list of parks. That one Dad okayed, as long as Sam could do it silently. Flipping up a finger for each, forehead knitted into a frown, Dean says, "Carlsbad. Everglades. Joshua Tree. Rocky Mountain. Badlands."
When he runs out of fingers on his beer-free hand, he's stuck.
"Grand Canyon?" she prompts.
That's a sore subject. So's Yellowstone.
Death Valley's a situation all its own.
"Got a few places left on the list," he admits. "Figure I'll get around to 'em sooner or later. Ever seen the world's largest ball of twine?"
"I have not," she says.
"Carhenge? Gravity Hill?"
"Booger Hollow Trading Post," she says, like it's a trump card and he might as well give up and fold. "Home of the Boogerburger."
"Seriously."
"America the Beautiful," she grins.
It is, he thinks. If you ignore the blood and the crazy and the frustration. The motels with no water pressure and the diners with shitty coffee. Country's full of little out-of-the-way spots that'll take your breath away.
Or make you laugh till you puke.
"Gotta go," he says as he slides off the barstool, draining the last little bit of that awesome local brew from the mug. There's a couple of crumpled dollars left in the pocket of his jeans, and he lays those on the bar for her in thanks for good service, good company. "Got somebody waiting for me."
He doesn't bother to elaborate. If she thinks the somebody's female, no harm done. This wasn't going anywhere anyway; there's a ring on her left hand, and she's betrayed no sign of being unhappy with that situation.
"Safe travels," she says as she gathers up her tip.
"Yeah," he nods as he steps away from the bar. "You too."
* * * * *