Highway to Hell: One Shots: "Old Yeller"
Highway to Hell : One Shots
Old Yeller
Chapter Wordcount: 2117
Rating: NC17
A/N: Title from...well, my van
Dean at least had enough decency to turn down the volume on the television when Monte’s phone went off.
She grumbled some curses; carefully putting down the small plastic engine she had been gluing together for a model and snatched up her phone, sparing a glance at the caller I.D. before opening it.
“Hey Travis, what’s up?”
“Not much, same old shit, how you doin’ hun?”
“Not bad, considering.”
“Listen…I’ve got a uh, a car build, I kinda want you to see…any chance you can come by?”
“Oh geez Travis I dunno, that’s only like a thousand miles away.”
“I know, I know, but you know damn well I wouldn’t call unless it was important. I can run this shop fine without you, you know.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Travis laughed over the line, “You know I’m kidding Monte, you know I got your back when it comes to this shop.”
“Yea, I know…so it’s that important huh?”
“I’d really like it if you could come by.”
Monte sighed, looking over at Dean, who was listening attentively trying to figure out the conversation.
“Alright, sure, give us a couple days.”
“Awesome…see you soon.”
“Alright, bye babe.”
She clicked the phone shut, tossing it on the coffee table and sighed.
“And that was?”
“Travis.”
“Travis…”
“My best guy buddy from high school. Co-owner of my shop and the guy that has been keeping it running since I ditched Georgia.”
“Everything alright?”
“Yea, he’s just got a car he wants me to come see. Must be something, he knows how damn far away I am,” she said getting up and walking to their bedroom, Dean following.
“So we’re going back to Georgia?” he asked carefully, leaning against the doorjamb. They hadn’t been back since the fight with her brother had gone down.
“Yea, looks like we are.”
Dean nodded, walking over to the closet to grab his duffle, letting his hand skim across her back in a silent comforting gesture as he passed.
Travis walked out, wiping greasy hands on an equally as greasy red shop rag when the Monte Carlo came rumbling straight through the shop’s open garage door.
“Whooee, if it ain’t Rina.”
Dean grinned both from the thick drawl and from the death glare that Monte was now shooting in Travis’ direction.
“You better watch it before you end up a couple ball bearings short of a smooth ride.”
Travis just shook his head with a smile before pulling her into a hug.
“Missed you hun.”
“Missed you too,” she said softly, pulling back to motion towards Dean.
“Dean, Travis…Travis, Dean.”
They shook hands and said their hellos before Monte went walking through the shop, eyeing the customs they had lined up that they were working on.
She saw a 442, a matching duo of Chevelles, a custom pickup in the back corner and the tail end of what looked to be a Barracuda out the back door.
“What’s under the tarp?” she asked, pointing over to the one car covered in the corner. “That what you drug my ass all the way back to Georgia for?”
Travis chuckled, walking over to the covered vehicle.
“Actually, no, but since you’re here I’ll show it to you, was going to e-mail you some pictures of it once we got it back from the paint booth anyways,” he said, peeling back the car cover and revealing the black Australian Ford underneath.
“Well if you had to bring a Ford into my shop, at least it’s one that’s worthy,” she smiled, taking a peek through the window.
“That’s not…” Dean trailed off, confusion on his face.
“Mad Max’s V8 Interceptor?” Travis said with a smile.
“No it’s not Dean,” Monte smiled, “It’s just a damn good clone.”
He smirked.
“So what exactly did you drag my ass down here for?”
Travis grinned.
“Come on, it’s in the garage out back,” he said, walking out the back door.
He yanked up on the steel roll-away door and smiled when he heard Monte gasp behind his shoulder.
“Travis…”
“Thought you oughta see it in person,” he grinned.
Dean looked at the yellow and white monstrosity sitting all alone in the dead center of the garage before looking at Monte, who was damn near close to tears.
She walked over to the old Chevy Van, running her hand over the short hood and up the oversized CB Radio antenna. She stared down the side before walking all the way around it and stopping again at next to Travis.
“You guys have been busy as hell,” she whispered, Dean distinctly hearing the waver in her voice. “How the hell did you finish it?”
“Wasn’t that hard,” he winked.
Monte pulled him into a hug before his phone went off in his pocket.
She waved him off as he answered and retreated back to the main shop building.
“Babe?”
Monte smiled at Dean.
“I’m alright.”
“’Kay,” he said slowly, “Mind telling me why a shaggin’ wagon brought you to tears?”
She laughed, “That ‘shaggin’ wagon’” she said, gesturing to the big van, “is Old Yeller…I grew up in the back of that van. It had started getting beat up and just plain tired when everything went to hell. I had had full intentions to restore it, so I brought it in when I sold the house and told Travis to have the guys work on it whenever they could. I didn’t think they’d finish it this fast though,” she added quietly.
Dean just stood quietly beside her until she walked around to the back and opened the double doors wide, smiling from ear to ear.
He had to admit, it was pretty sweet.
Speakers swept up from the floor to the ceiling on the small portions of wall that framed the back doors, the largest at top and bottom, reducing in size to the smallest right in the middle.
The seats were wrapped in black denim and tan suede, two settled towards the front of the rear portion of the van.
Soft lush carpet flowed across the floor only to be mirrored by two strips that ran the length of the ceiling on either side. The walls and roof were all paneled in, surprisingly, real wood. The sweet heady smell, mixed with a little metal and oil lightly scenting the interior.
Monte crawled across the floor, sitting by one of the twin benches that had been built around the wheel wells, concealing them.
She lifted up the top and laughed. Two of the fluffiest pillows on earth and a big ass blanket were tucked inside.
Dean couldn’t help his curiosity and checked out the other side, a small entertainment system that no doubt connected to the small drop down screen mounted on the ceiling and much to his amazement, a built in cooler, wrapped around the opposite well.
“He’s got good taste,” Dean smiled, walking hunched over towards the front, taking in the custom dash and stereo before settling into one of the rear seats to watch Monte.
“Travis had nothing to do with this. I had this all planned out from the get-go. He just followed my designs.”
Dean grinned.
“I’ve had this baby built in my head since I was sixteen.”
Dean smiled when Monte looked over at him, her happiness shining in her eyes. He had a feeling they were going to be driving two vehicles on the trip home.
She smiled, before getting out and walking over to the door of the garage, pulling it closed. Dean stood with a suspicious arch of his brow by the back doors of the van.
She passed him with a smirk before crawling back inside the van and pulling out the two pillows from their hiding spot.
“You gonna get in or not?” she grinned.
Dean wasn’t about to say no.
He climbed in, slamming the door shut behind him as she laid back on the pillows, allowing him to crawl over her.
He dipped down, kissing her slow and soft, her fingers buried in his hair, cradled between her knees.
He felt more than heard her hitch of breathing and sigh as he trailed light kisses down her neck. She had been a bundle of nerves and emotions since they had hit the Georgia border and he reveled in the chance to take that all away, erase the pain from her eyes, the tremble from her voice, even if just for a moment.
His finger slipped in the fold of her shirt, popping buttons loose as he slid down, pushing it off her shoulders when it was free.
“Dean…”
“Sshh baby, I’ve got you.”
She whimpered as he kissed her soft again, his hand cradling the swell of her breast in his palm.
She closed her eyes with a moan and tilted her head back as he sat up on his knees, releasing the buckle of her belt and easing open the button and zipper of her jeans, kissing her hip softly as he eased the material off her.
She inhaled sharp when he mouth suddenly returned to hers, his tongue begging for access and taking control but still somehow managing to be tender at the same time.
She had lost herself in the feel of his mouth on hers, heat of him above her radiating into her when he gently slipped his finger between her legs.
She broke from his kiss, hips stuttering against the slow slide of his fingers.
He bent down, kissing between her breasts, sucking a perfect red spot that would last for days while he finally entered her body.
She arched against him, forcing her chest against his face and frantically grabbed at his clothes.
He watched the flush spread across her neck and cheeks as he stroked softly, circling with his thumb in slow measured movements.
“Oh god, Dean…”
He sped up his movements, concentrating on the erratic roll of her hips, the way her skin and muscles fluttered under his touch until he just knew she was teetering on the edge before removing his hands all together.
“Dean,” she groaned, the sound less menacing than she would have liked, but the anger leaving either way when she saw him discard his own jeans, growling when the pressure was finally eased.
Her hands slid over the smooth expanse of his chest as he leaned back over her, one hand bracing himself as the other cupped her flushed cheek, bringing her mouth to his, stealing her breath once again.
He buried his nose in the crook of her neck when she threw her head back at his slow entrance into her.
She had been so close to begin with that feeling his hard length slide into her, feeling the way he trembled under her hands, restraining his need, the way he was being so goddamned gentle with her sent her crashing over the edge and she arched against him, legs tightening around his waist as her world whited-out around her.
The next thing she was able to comprehend was Dean whispering something into the soft skin of her neck, his words lost in the rumble of his voice as he eased out of her only to rock back into her.
Her hands shook as she turned his face back to hers, blue eyes locking with jade, and despite all the emotion and love and tenderness that was literally swirling in the air she somehow managed the thought of this being the first time she was actually ‘shagged’ in her ‘wagon,’ and she chuckled, making Dean’s brow furrow in confusion, his steady rhythm slowing.
“Babe…”
“I’m okay,” she smiled, kissing him, her hand sliding down to cup the swell of his ass.
He moaned into her kiss and sped up his movements, his own control starting to slip through his fingers like water through a net, despite how hard he tried to grasp at it.
“I love you,” she whispered against his spit-slicked lips and he blinked, frozen for a split second before rumbling it back only to lose his last shred of restraint and spilled himself deep inside her.
When his own white-out receded from the edges of his vision she was curled up next to him, the blanket from the cubby-hole spread across them as their nerves singing beneath their skin started to calm and the heat of the moment started to cool.
“You know…this is actually the first time I’ve done it in a van,” Dean said, a smile evident in his tone.
Monte grinned against his chest, her previous thoughts coming back to her.
“Me too,” she grinned, meeting his eyes and smile before coming together in a slow kiss.
Previous: Backseat Love | Next: Red Line
Highway to Hell Master Post
Old Yeller
Chapter Wordcount: 2117
Rating: NC17
A/N: Title from...well, my van
Dean at least had enough decency to turn down the volume on the television when Monte’s phone went off.
She grumbled some curses; carefully putting down the small plastic engine she had been gluing together for a model and snatched up her phone, sparing a glance at the caller I.D. before opening it.
“Hey Travis, what’s up?”
“Not much, same old shit, how you doin’ hun?”
“Not bad, considering.”
“Listen…I’ve got a uh, a car build, I kinda want you to see…any chance you can come by?”
“Oh geez Travis I dunno, that’s only like a thousand miles away.”
“I know, I know, but you know damn well I wouldn’t call unless it was important. I can run this shop fine without you, you know.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Travis laughed over the line, “You know I’m kidding Monte, you know I got your back when it comes to this shop.”
“Yea, I know…so it’s that important huh?”
“I’d really like it if you could come by.”
Monte sighed, looking over at Dean, who was listening attentively trying to figure out the conversation.
“Alright, sure, give us a couple days.”
“Awesome…see you soon.”
“Alright, bye babe.”
She clicked the phone shut, tossing it on the coffee table and sighed.
“And that was?”
“Travis.”
“Travis…”
“My best guy buddy from high school. Co-owner of my shop and the guy that has been keeping it running since I ditched Georgia.”
“Everything alright?”
“Yea, he’s just got a car he wants me to come see. Must be something, he knows how damn far away I am,” she said getting up and walking to their bedroom, Dean following.
“So we’re going back to Georgia?” he asked carefully, leaning against the doorjamb. They hadn’t been back since the fight with her brother had gone down.
“Yea, looks like we are.”
Dean nodded, walking over to the closet to grab his duffle, letting his hand skim across her back in a silent comforting gesture as he passed.
Travis walked out, wiping greasy hands on an equally as greasy red shop rag when the Monte Carlo came rumbling straight through the shop’s open garage door.
“Whooee, if it ain’t Rina.”
Dean grinned both from the thick drawl and from the death glare that Monte was now shooting in Travis’ direction.
“You better watch it before you end up a couple ball bearings short of a smooth ride.”
Travis just shook his head with a smile before pulling her into a hug.
“Missed you hun.”
“Missed you too,” she said softly, pulling back to motion towards Dean.
“Dean, Travis…Travis, Dean.”
They shook hands and said their hellos before Monte went walking through the shop, eyeing the customs they had lined up that they were working on.
She saw a 442, a matching duo of Chevelles, a custom pickup in the back corner and the tail end of what looked to be a Barracuda out the back door.
“What’s under the tarp?” she asked, pointing over to the one car covered in the corner. “That what you drug my ass all the way back to Georgia for?”
Travis chuckled, walking over to the covered vehicle.
“Actually, no, but since you’re here I’ll show it to you, was going to e-mail you some pictures of it once we got it back from the paint booth anyways,” he said, peeling back the car cover and revealing the black Australian Ford underneath.
“Well if you had to bring a Ford into my shop, at least it’s one that’s worthy,” she smiled, taking a peek through the window.
“That’s not…” Dean trailed off, confusion on his face.
“Mad Max’s V8 Interceptor?” Travis said with a smile.
“No it’s not Dean,” Monte smiled, “It’s just a damn good clone.”
He smirked.
“So what exactly did you drag my ass down here for?”
Travis grinned.
“Come on, it’s in the garage out back,” he said, walking out the back door.
He yanked up on the steel roll-away door and smiled when he heard Monte gasp behind his shoulder.
“Travis…”
“Thought you oughta see it in person,” he grinned.
Dean looked at the yellow and white monstrosity sitting all alone in the dead center of the garage before looking at Monte, who was damn near close to tears.
She walked over to the old Chevy Van, running her hand over the short hood and up the oversized CB Radio antenna. She stared down the side before walking all the way around it and stopping again at next to Travis.
“You guys have been busy as hell,” she whispered, Dean distinctly hearing the waver in her voice. “How the hell did you finish it?”
“Wasn’t that hard,” he winked.
Monte pulled him into a hug before his phone went off in his pocket.
She waved him off as he answered and retreated back to the main shop building.
“Babe?”
Monte smiled at Dean.
“I’m alright.”
“’Kay,” he said slowly, “Mind telling me why a shaggin’ wagon brought you to tears?”
She laughed, “That ‘shaggin’ wagon’” she said, gesturing to the big van, “is Old Yeller…I grew up in the back of that van. It had started getting beat up and just plain tired when everything went to hell. I had had full intentions to restore it, so I brought it in when I sold the house and told Travis to have the guys work on it whenever they could. I didn’t think they’d finish it this fast though,” she added quietly.
Dean just stood quietly beside her until she walked around to the back and opened the double doors wide, smiling from ear to ear.
He had to admit, it was pretty sweet.
Speakers swept up from the floor to the ceiling on the small portions of wall that framed the back doors, the largest at top and bottom, reducing in size to the smallest right in the middle.
The seats were wrapped in black denim and tan suede, two settled towards the front of the rear portion of the van.
Soft lush carpet flowed across the floor only to be mirrored by two strips that ran the length of the ceiling on either side. The walls and roof were all paneled in, surprisingly, real wood. The sweet heady smell, mixed with a little metal and oil lightly scenting the interior.
Monte crawled across the floor, sitting by one of the twin benches that had been built around the wheel wells, concealing them.
She lifted up the top and laughed. Two of the fluffiest pillows on earth and a big ass blanket were tucked inside.
Dean couldn’t help his curiosity and checked out the other side, a small entertainment system that no doubt connected to the small drop down screen mounted on the ceiling and much to his amazement, a built in cooler, wrapped around the opposite well.
“He’s got good taste,” Dean smiled, walking hunched over towards the front, taking in the custom dash and stereo before settling into one of the rear seats to watch Monte.
“Travis had nothing to do with this. I had this all planned out from the get-go. He just followed my designs.”
Dean grinned.
“I’ve had this baby built in my head since I was sixteen.”
Dean smiled when Monte looked over at him, her happiness shining in her eyes. He had a feeling they were going to be driving two vehicles on the trip home.
She smiled, before getting out and walking over to the door of the garage, pulling it closed. Dean stood with a suspicious arch of his brow by the back doors of the van.
She passed him with a smirk before crawling back inside the van and pulling out the two pillows from their hiding spot.
“You gonna get in or not?” she grinned.
Dean wasn’t about to say no.
He climbed in, slamming the door shut behind him as she laid back on the pillows, allowing him to crawl over her.
He dipped down, kissing her slow and soft, her fingers buried in his hair, cradled between her knees.
He felt more than heard her hitch of breathing and sigh as he trailed light kisses down her neck. She had been a bundle of nerves and emotions since they had hit the Georgia border and he reveled in the chance to take that all away, erase the pain from her eyes, the tremble from her voice, even if just for a moment.
His finger slipped in the fold of her shirt, popping buttons loose as he slid down, pushing it off her shoulders when it was free.
“Dean…”
“Sshh baby, I’ve got you.”
She whimpered as he kissed her soft again, his hand cradling the swell of her breast in his palm.
She closed her eyes with a moan and tilted her head back as he sat up on his knees, releasing the buckle of her belt and easing open the button and zipper of her jeans, kissing her hip softly as he eased the material off her.
She inhaled sharp when he mouth suddenly returned to hers, his tongue begging for access and taking control but still somehow managing to be tender at the same time.
She had lost herself in the feel of his mouth on hers, heat of him above her radiating into her when he gently slipped his finger between her legs.
She broke from his kiss, hips stuttering against the slow slide of his fingers.
He bent down, kissing between her breasts, sucking a perfect red spot that would last for days while he finally entered her body.
She arched against him, forcing her chest against his face and frantically grabbed at his clothes.
He watched the flush spread across her neck and cheeks as he stroked softly, circling with his thumb in slow measured movements.
“Oh god, Dean…”
He sped up his movements, concentrating on the erratic roll of her hips, the way her skin and muscles fluttered under his touch until he just knew she was teetering on the edge before removing his hands all together.
“Dean,” she groaned, the sound less menacing than she would have liked, but the anger leaving either way when she saw him discard his own jeans, growling when the pressure was finally eased.
Her hands slid over the smooth expanse of his chest as he leaned back over her, one hand bracing himself as the other cupped her flushed cheek, bringing her mouth to his, stealing her breath once again.
He buried his nose in the crook of her neck when she threw her head back at his slow entrance into her.
She had been so close to begin with that feeling his hard length slide into her, feeling the way he trembled under her hands, restraining his need, the way he was being so goddamned gentle with her sent her crashing over the edge and she arched against him, legs tightening around his waist as her world whited-out around her.
The next thing she was able to comprehend was Dean whispering something into the soft skin of her neck, his words lost in the rumble of his voice as he eased out of her only to rock back into her.
Her hands shook as she turned his face back to hers, blue eyes locking with jade, and despite all the emotion and love and tenderness that was literally swirling in the air she somehow managed the thought of this being the first time she was actually ‘shagged’ in her ‘wagon,’ and she chuckled, making Dean’s brow furrow in confusion, his steady rhythm slowing.
“Babe…”
“I’m okay,” she smiled, kissing him, her hand sliding down to cup the swell of his ass.
He moaned into her kiss and sped up his movements, his own control starting to slip through his fingers like water through a net, despite how hard he tried to grasp at it.
“I love you,” she whispered against his spit-slicked lips and he blinked, frozen for a split second before rumbling it back only to lose his last shred of restraint and spilled himself deep inside her.
When his own white-out receded from the edges of his vision she was curled up next to him, the blanket from the cubby-hole spread across them as their nerves singing beneath their skin started to calm and the heat of the moment started to cool.
“You know…this is actually the first time I’ve done it in a van,” Dean said, a smile evident in his tone.
Monte grinned against his chest, her previous thoughts coming back to her.
“Me too,” she grinned, meeting his eyes and smile before coming together in a slow kiss.
Previous: Backseat Love | Next: Red Line
Highway to Hell Master Post