Ficlet - Baby Just Give Me One Reason
Title: Baby Just Give Me One Reason
Pairing: teen!Dean/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: for purple_carpets, a teeny little ficlet about Dean getting laid at Lilith Fair. Hope you like it, sweetie.
Regardless of its name, even Winter Park, Colorado was hot as hell in the middle of July. But they were holed up here for at least three weeks, so Dean figured he might as well make the best of it. Dad hadn’t taken him along on this hunt, leaving him instead to look after his younger brother, who was recovering from a broken left wrist. He didn’t really even mind being left behind, considering he’d been the one to accidentally cause Sam’s injury in a sparring session. He felt bad, honestly, though Sam hadn’t been angry and even their dad took the time to try convincing Dean that incidents like this just happened sometimes, and that he shouldn’t feel guilty.
A week of waiting on his not-so-much-a-baby-anymore brother hand and foot had pretty much erased most of his guilty feelings. Sam was clearly milking this shit for all it was worth, and Dean was bored beyond belief with sitting around their week-to-week motel room all day and night.
Today was going to be different. This was definitely one of his most ingenious or most stupid plans to get laid ever, but when opportunity knocked, he wasn’t one to ignore the call.
Three days earlier, he’d walked into a local store advertising that it bought and sold used CDs, cassettes, and albums. Browsing through the cassette section, he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation going on by the register. A teenage girl was asking the scruffy guy at the counter if she could put a sign in the window saying she had a ticket to the Lilith Fair she was willing to sell for $20. Scruffy guy was droning a monotonous line about how that wasn’t allowed, and Dean sized the girl up in less than a minute. Junkie. He’d bet anything she’d sell a hell of a lot more than a concert ticket for twenty bucks, but that was most certainly not his thing. Eighteen-year-old libido aside, fucking a drug addict was out of the question, and paying for sex was inconceivable, considering how easy he’d found it to get into the panties of just about any chick he set his sights on. Anyway, this girl looked like she was barely older than Sam, and that got his brain going in a different direction. A girl that young, her arms all bruised from shooting up or (possibly and) being tossed around…aw, fuck. Less than three minutes later, he was walking back to the motel, twenty dollars lighter and studying a printed ad about the concert he’d just purchased a ticket for. He’d never heard of 99% of the featured artists, but what the hell.
This place was going to be crawling with chicks. A whole entire day of performances, all female acts, ticket money all going towards women’s charities. Sam’s ridiculous taste in music had been useful for once, giving him a little information about Tracy Chapman and Fiona Apple. And you can shut up about how he was even kind of looking forward to seeing Emmylou Harris live, that woman was tough as nails from what he knew and made some pretty fucking good music, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone else.
Well, he might admit it to someone today. No fucking way was he going to walk into a venue filled with open-minded young women reveling in their independence and girl-power and not end up getting at least one of them naked. Or, you know, naked enough.
The sun was beating down hard and Dean wiped the sweat from his brow as he moved in on a girl who was standing alone and enjoying Juliana Hatfield in the second-stage part of the event. He chatted her up for a while, inwardly thanking Sammy for the intel about how great the Indigo Girls’ first album had been.
“They won’t be on for a while, I think”, he told the girl, Kristen, Kristy, something like that. “I don’t want to miss them. And you know, I’m not leaving until Sarah McLachlan comes on.” (Whoever the hell that was) The young lady looked up at him with admiration, clearly sensing his sincerity in enjoying empowering and female-centric music. “Maybe we could sneak off for just a bit, what do you think?”
Score. Kris-whatever was more than happy to seek out a secluded spot (so romantic, right behind the long line of blue Port-A-Johns that had been set up) to get up close and personal with Dean. She wasn’t wearing any panties under the little sundress she had on.
He threw his used condom to the side, kissed the girl one last time and told her he’d look for her later. Wandering back over to the other side of the park, he listened to Emmylou for half an hour, then headed out of the venue as someone whose name was Jewel (seriously?) was being announced.
Walking back into their motel, Sam looked up from his battered copy of Lord of the Flies. “So, best music you ever heard, right?” he asked with a typical eye-roll.
Dean smiled, big and sincere and a little smug. “Best lay I’ve had in at least six months, that’s for sure.”
Pairing: teen!Dean/OFC
Rating: R
Summary: for purple_carpets, a teeny little ficlet about Dean getting laid at Lilith Fair. Hope you like it, sweetie.
Regardless of its name, even Winter Park, Colorado was hot as hell in the middle of July. But they were holed up here for at least three weeks, so Dean figured he might as well make the best of it. Dad hadn’t taken him along on this hunt, leaving him instead to look after his younger brother, who was recovering from a broken left wrist. He didn’t really even mind being left behind, considering he’d been the one to accidentally cause Sam’s injury in a sparring session. He felt bad, honestly, though Sam hadn’t been angry and even their dad took the time to try convincing Dean that incidents like this just happened sometimes, and that he shouldn’t feel guilty.
A week of waiting on his not-so-much-a-baby-anymore brother hand and foot had pretty much erased most of his guilty feelings. Sam was clearly milking this shit for all it was worth, and Dean was bored beyond belief with sitting around their week-to-week motel room all day and night.
Today was going to be different. This was definitely one of his most ingenious or most stupid plans to get laid ever, but when opportunity knocked, he wasn’t one to ignore the call.
Three days earlier, he’d walked into a local store advertising that it bought and sold used CDs, cassettes, and albums. Browsing through the cassette section, he couldn’t help but overhear a conversation going on by the register. A teenage girl was asking the scruffy guy at the counter if she could put a sign in the window saying she had a ticket to the Lilith Fair she was willing to sell for $20. Scruffy guy was droning a monotonous line about how that wasn’t allowed, and Dean sized the girl up in less than a minute. Junkie. He’d bet anything she’d sell a hell of a lot more than a concert ticket for twenty bucks, but that was most certainly not his thing. Eighteen-year-old libido aside, fucking a drug addict was out of the question, and paying for sex was inconceivable, considering how easy he’d found it to get into the panties of just about any chick he set his sights on. Anyway, this girl looked like she was barely older than Sam, and that got his brain going in a different direction. A girl that young, her arms all bruised from shooting up or (possibly and) being tossed around…aw, fuck. Less than three minutes later, he was walking back to the motel, twenty dollars lighter and studying a printed ad about the concert he’d just purchased a ticket for. He’d never heard of 99% of the featured artists, but what the hell.
This place was going to be crawling with chicks. A whole entire day of performances, all female acts, ticket money all going towards women’s charities. Sam’s ridiculous taste in music had been useful for once, giving him a little information about Tracy Chapman and Fiona Apple. And you can shut up about how he was even kind of looking forward to seeing Emmylou Harris live, that woman was tough as nails from what he knew and made some pretty fucking good music, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone else.
Well, he might admit it to someone today. No fucking way was he going to walk into a venue filled with open-minded young women reveling in their independence and girl-power and not end up getting at least one of them naked. Or, you know, naked enough.
The sun was beating down hard and Dean wiped the sweat from his brow as he moved in on a girl who was standing alone and enjoying Juliana Hatfield in the second-stage part of the event. He chatted her up for a while, inwardly thanking Sammy for the intel about how great the Indigo Girls’ first album had been.
“They won’t be on for a while, I think”, he told the girl, Kristen, Kristy, something like that. “I don’t want to miss them. And you know, I’m not leaving until Sarah McLachlan comes on.” (Whoever the hell that was) The young lady looked up at him with admiration, clearly sensing his sincerity in enjoying empowering and female-centric music. “Maybe we could sneak off for just a bit, what do you think?”
Score. Kris-whatever was more than happy to seek out a secluded spot (so romantic, right behind the long line of blue Port-A-Johns that had been set up) to get up close and personal with Dean. She wasn’t wearing any panties under the little sundress she had on.
He threw his used condom to the side, kissed the girl one last time and told her he’d look for her later. Wandering back over to the other side of the park, he listened to Emmylou for half an hour, then headed out of the venue as someone whose name was Jewel (seriously?) was being announced.
Walking back into their motel, Sam looked up from his battered copy of Lord of the Flies. “So, best music you ever heard, right?” he asked with a typical eye-roll.
Dean smiled, big and sincere and a little smug. “Best lay I’ve had in at least six months, that’s for sure.”