why_me_why_not (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
why_me_why_not) wrote2009-11-15 08:14 pm
why_me_why_not) wrote2009-11-15 08:14 pm
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I think this is going to be a fic-dump kind of night. I apologize in advance.
Title: Waking Up in the Past
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural, gen
Rating/Word Count: Teen for language, 1164 words
Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters, sadly enough.
Summary: “I don’t think we’re in the 21st century anymore, Toto.”
A/N: Inspired by the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cliche_bingo prompt of time travel. I could not find confirmation of Bobby's wife's name or the year that she died, so I made it up.
Dean opened the door of their hotel room, hoping some fresh air would clear out his head a bit and maybe he’d remember why they had rented a room in a cell phone dead zone with no television. And, if Sam’s bitching was any indication, no hot water. He stopped short as soon as he stepped outside. “Ah, fuck! Not again!”
Sam stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off. “What?” He glanced past Dean, getting a clear view of the empty parking space in front of their room. “No way. Someone stole our car?”
Dean could already see the wheels turning in Sam’s head, building up to a freakout about the weapons cache in the Impala and how they were going to make it to Bradenton to follow up on the reports of a nest of vampires.
“No, Sam. Worse.” He knew Sam was about to start asking questions about what could be worse than someone stealing Dean’s car, so he motioned for Sam to come closer to the door.
“What the—“ Sam trailed off, staring out the door in bewilderment.
“I don’t think we’re in the 21st century anymore, Toto.”
“Where are we?” Sam asked, looking bewildered.
Dean glanced at the row of cars parked in front of the diner across the street. “South Dakota.” For someone who was smart and psychic, Sam wasn’t all that observant, especially before he’d had his morning coffee. “I think the better question would be when are we? Fucking time travel.”
“Only one way to find out,” Sam said, retreating into the room and pulling on some clothes.
Dean stepped back into the room as well, throwing everything haphazardly into the duffle bags. He was usually a lot more organized about this shit, but he’d been thrown off but the whole going back in time thing. He was afraid they weren’t actually registered to this room and wanted to make sure they took all their belongings with them just in case.
Sam was at least looking a little more alert when they walked into the diner, all smiles and charm when he asked the waitress for the largest cup of coffee they had before snagging a booth in a far corner of the room. Dean slid in across from him and said, “Poor Sammy, having to drink real coffee instead of that fancy cappuccino bullshit.” Like he wasn’t the one who regularly drove out of their way to hit up a Starbucks for Sam.
Sam glared at him and picked up a menu from the corner of the table. He was still studying his choices – probably looking for something healthy, like he’d find that in a roadside diner – when the waitress came back.
Dean watched her approach, thinking she was kinda cute and that he might actually hit on her if she wasn’t old enough to be his mother. Time travel really fucked with his head.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said with a wink, turning on his own charm. “Why don’t you bring us a couple of the breakfast specials, extra bacon with mine, and keep the coffee coming.”
She smiled in acknowledgement and nodded, about to turn away when Sam looked up.
“Excuse me, miss?” Sam was always so ridiculously sweet and polite to waitresses. And always, always overtipped. Dean knew part of that was because Jess had been a waitress when they met, but it had started way before that. He was probably going to ask for fruit or something instead of what Dean had ordered for them. Pansy.
The waitress turned to Sam with a brighter smile than the one she had given Dean. Figured.
“I’m sorry, but would it be possible for us to see today’s paper?”
“Sure thing, darling.” The sashay she added to her step when she walked away was wasted because Sam wasn’t even paying a bit of attention. He was staring out the window, watching a pretty young woman jumping out of a pickup truck. Her hair was tied back with a bandana that matched her waitress uniform, and she was laughing at whoever was driving the truck, seeming far too happy for someone who was coming in to work. She blew a kiss over her shoulder before she bounced into the shop.
“Sharon Singer, where have you been?” the waitress called out. “You’re nearly an hour late!”
The woman – Sharon – just laughed and grabbed an apron from behind the counter. “Blame it on my husband.”
Sam was still staring.
“Give it up,” Dean said, kicking his brother under the table. “She’s hot, but she’s married.”
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. “Did you see her husband?”
“Checking out the guys now, Sammy?” Dean smirked. “Or are you just thinking she’s too hot for him. Because I have to tell you, Jess was too hot for you. So was Sarah. And Meredith, but she was also a werewolf, so that whole situation was fucked.”
Really, one of these days Sam was going to do more than just glare at Dean, but riling him up was just so much fun.
“Dean, her husband is Bobby.”
“Bobby? Bobby who?”
“Our Bobby. Bobby Singer.”
“You know my husband?”
Dean looked up at Sharon as she slid a newspaper in front of Sam. Up close, he could recognize her from the pictures in Bobby’s office.
“No, not exactly.” Sam recovered first. “Someone told us that he was the man to see if we needed a car.”
“Please, feel free to take one of those clunkers off our hands; they’re killing my grass! Honestly, I think Bobby just does it so he doesn’t have to mow the lawn.”
Dean laughed. Bobby was a genius sometimes. “Would you mind giving us his number? Or calling him for us?”
Sam turned all charming again. “Our car finally kicked the bucket for good about three towns back, so we’re hitching. But we have cash. We’d be grateful if you and your husband could help us out.”
“I’m Joe,” Dean interrupted. “Joe Jonas. And this is my brother Nick.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Joe and Nick. I’m Sharon.”
“So, Sharon, will you help us?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, stepping back so their original waitress could slide a couple of plates of greasy, delicious diner breakfast food in front of them. “If you leave Regina here a good enough tip.”
Dean finished off his food and started stealing bites of Sam’s while Sam flipped through the newspaper. He was going for the bacon on the end of Sam’s plate when Sam smacked him with a fork. Dean kicked him again and took the bacon anyway.
“Dean, just because it’s 1982 doesn’t mean you need to act like you’re three years old.”
Dean ignores him in favor of dunking his bacon in syrup. “So, college boy, anything in that newspaper clue you in to why we’re here?”
“No,” Sam answered with a sigh, “but I have a bad feeling I already know why we’re here.”
Title: Waking Up in the Past
Fandom/Pairing: Supernatural, gen
Rating/Word Count: Teen for language, 1164 words
Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters, sadly enough.
Summary: “I don’t think we’re in the 21st century anymore, Toto.”
A/N: Inspired by the
cliche_bingo prompt of time travel. I could not find confirmation of Bobby's wife's name or the year that she died, so I made it up. Dean opened the door of their hotel room, hoping some fresh air would clear out his head a bit and maybe he’d remember why they had rented a room in a cell phone dead zone with no television. And, if Sam’s bitching was any indication, no hot water. He stopped short as soon as he stepped outside. “Ah, fuck! Not again!”
Sam stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off. “What?” He glanced past Dean, getting a clear view of the empty parking space in front of their room. “No way. Someone stole our car?”
Dean could already see the wheels turning in Sam’s head, building up to a freakout about the weapons cache in the Impala and how they were going to make it to Bradenton to follow up on the reports of a nest of vampires.
“No, Sam. Worse.” He knew Sam was about to start asking questions about what could be worse than someone stealing Dean’s car, so he motioned for Sam to come closer to the door.
“What the—“ Sam trailed off, staring out the door in bewilderment.
“I don’t think we’re in the 21st century anymore, Toto.”
“Where are we?” Sam asked, looking bewildered.
Dean glanced at the row of cars parked in front of the diner across the street. “South Dakota.” For someone who was smart and psychic, Sam wasn’t all that observant, especially before he’d had his morning coffee. “I think the better question would be when are we? Fucking time travel.”
“Only one way to find out,” Sam said, retreating into the room and pulling on some clothes.
Dean stepped back into the room as well, throwing everything haphazardly into the duffle bags. He was usually a lot more organized about this shit, but he’d been thrown off but the whole going back in time thing. He was afraid they weren’t actually registered to this room and wanted to make sure they took all their belongings with them just in case.
Sam was at least looking a little more alert when they walked into the diner, all smiles and charm when he asked the waitress for the largest cup of coffee they had before snagging a booth in a far corner of the room. Dean slid in across from him and said, “Poor Sammy, having to drink real coffee instead of that fancy cappuccino bullshit.” Like he wasn’t the one who regularly drove out of their way to hit up a Starbucks for Sam.
Sam glared at him and picked up a menu from the corner of the table. He was still studying his choices – probably looking for something healthy, like he’d find that in a roadside diner – when the waitress came back.
Dean watched her approach, thinking she was kinda cute and that he might actually hit on her if she wasn’t old enough to be his mother. Time travel really fucked with his head.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said with a wink, turning on his own charm. “Why don’t you bring us a couple of the breakfast specials, extra bacon with mine, and keep the coffee coming.”
She smiled in acknowledgement and nodded, about to turn away when Sam looked up.
“Excuse me, miss?” Sam was always so ridiculously sweet and polite to waitresses. And always, always overtipped. Dean knew part of that was because Jess had been a waitress when they met, but it had started way before that. He was probably going to ask for fruit or something instead of what Dean had ordered for them. Pansy.
The waitress turned to Sam with a brighter smile than the one she had given Dean. Figured.
“I’m sorry, but would it be possible for us to see today’s paper?”
“Sure thing, darling.” The sashay she added to her step when she walked away was wasted because Sam wasn’t even paying a bit of attention. He was staring out the window, watching a pretty young woman jumping out of a pickup truck. Her hair was tied back with a bandana that matched her waitress uniform, and she was laughing at whoever was driving the truck, seeming far too happy for someone who was coming in to work. She blew a kiss over her shoulder before she bounced into the shop.
“Sharon Singer, where have you been?” the waitress called out. “You’re nearly an hour late!”
The woman – Sharon – just laughed and grabbed an apron from behind the counter. “Blame it on my husband.”
Sam was still staring.
“Give it up,” Dean said, kicking his brother under the table. “She’s hot, but she’s married.”
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. “Did you see her husband?”
“Checking out the guys now, Sammy?” Dean smirked. “Or are you just thinking she’s too hot for him. Because I have to tell you, Jess was too hot for you. So was Sarah. And Meredith, but she was also a werewolf, so that whole situation was fucked.”
Really, one of these days Sam was going to do more than just glare at Dean, but riling him up was just so much fun.
“Dean, her husband is Bobby.”
“Bobby? Bobby who?”
“Our Bobby. Bobby Singer.”
“You know my husband?”
Dean looked up at Sharon as she slid a newspaper in front of Sam. Up close, he could recognize her from the pictures in Bobby’s office.
“No, not exactly.” Sam recovered first. “Someone told us that he was the man to see if we needed a car.”
“Please, feel free to take one of those clunkers off our hands; they’re killing my grass! Honestly, I think Bobby just does it so he doesn’t have to mow the lawn.”
Dean laughed. Bobby was a genius sometimes. “Would you mind giving us his number? Or calling him for us?”
Sam turned all charming again. “Our car finally kicked the bucket for good about three towns back, so we’re hitching. But we have cash. We’d be grateful if you and your husband could help us out.”
“I’m Joe,” Dean interrupted. “Joe Jonas. And this is my brother Nick.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Joe and Nick. I’m Sharon.”
“So, Sharon, will you help us?”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, stepping back so their original waitress could slide a couple of plates of greasy, delicious diner breakfast food in front of them. “If you leave Regina here a good enough tip.”
Dean finished off his food and started stealing bites of Sam’s while Sam flipped through the newspaper. He was going for the bacon on the end of Sam’s plate when Sam smacked him with a fork. Dean kicked him again and took the bacon anyway.
“Dean, just because it’s 1982 doesn’t mean you need to act like you’re three years old.”
Dean ignores him in favor of dunking his bacon in syrup. “So, college boy, anything in that newspaper clue you in to why we’re here?”
“No,” Sam answered with a sigh, “but I have a bad feeling I already know why we’re here.”