Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or parts of their storyline. They belong to the minds of The Whedon and The Kripke.
Rating: PG (for swearing)
A/N: Just a little ficlet that used to have higher ambitions before crashing and burning into a different series idea. So this is a stand alone now. :)
A/N 2: Entered on Day 16 for the TwistedShorts
August 2012 Challenge. :)
Feedback: Mucho appreciated! :)
Summary: Dean finds some chewing gum in the Impala.
There was something hard and sticky under the passenger’s side seat that his finger grazed on his way to grab the shotgun that he kept hidden in the permanent holster he had installed under there.
“What the hell?” he grumbled, frowning as he leaned over further. He pushed on the little pile of mystery goo, his face melting into disgust when he dug a fingernail into it and it immediately became malleable.
“Oh, hell no,” he said under his breath as he gripped the pile of crap and pulled it out. Looking down at his hands, he made a noise of disgust at the stringy, old, chewed purple gum he had found. “Oh, man, no.”
Reaching back under, he picked off as much as he could but the gum was the crappy kind aka it was the kind that was like rubber cement and only came off in stringy little bits that were now making his fingers stick together. Slapping the seat as he growled at the sticky substance, he pulled himself up, the gum he had managed to scrape off still in his hands, to poke his head around the open car door. The sun glinted off the hood, making him squint.
Closing his eyes, he waited for a response but none came and he took an aggravated deep breath.
“Buffy!” he yelled, louder and more urgent and he finally heard a distant, annoyed, “What?”
Rolling his eyes at her tone, he stood up but didn’t move any closer to her voice. It sounded like she was in the backyard but he wanted her to walk her skinny little ass right out to the driveway and explain this crap.
“Come here!” he yelled back, his voice betraying his level of anger.
There was a pause before he heard a faint, “I’m busy.”
“The hell you are,” Dean Winchester growled, moving back and slamming the passenger side door shut and stalking into the open garage. He dodged her dulled orange Dodge Charger sitting in there while his baby sat outside – something he still griped about – before grabbing the backdoor of the garage and swinging it open. The gum was still sticky on his fingers when he found her in the back, rifling through the shed where they kept the majority of their shared weapons. She turned around when she heard his boots destroying the beautiful grass he had spent hours fixing up but he didn’t care about that.
There had been gum. In the Impala. Gum. In the Impala.
She was holding a mean looking dagger, her face taking on the picture of confused innocence, as she watched his approach but it did nothing to deter him. That didn’t mean he didn’t notice the extreme set of Daisy Dukes shorts she was sporting and the thin slip of a red tank top that was riding up around her waist, showing her taut stomach that had grown tan with the hot summer sun. That her hair was down in a tangle around her shoulders, her sunglasses pushing the strays out of her face where they rested on her head, her face clean and gorgeous.
No, no. There was gum.
“What. Is. This?” he snapped at her, shoving his hand in her face, the purple gum bright against his grimy fingers and Buffy Summers dodged his hand, her eyes trained on the lump of gum.
“This,” Dean replied, pointing at the gum with his other hand, “This was in baby. What the hell was this doing in my baby?”
Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. Why are you chewing purple gum?”
Dean ground his teeth together. “I don’t chew gum.”
“You think I did that?” Buffy asked incredulously, pointing at the gum herself. She made a face. “Please, I’m not the only one who gets into that car.”
“That car?” he replied, mocking her derogatory tone, his eyes narrowing. “Did you put this in her on purpose? I know you chew this crap.”
“I don’t chew purple gum,” Buffy replied matter-of-fact before turning back around and setting the dagger in its rightful place on the wall. Dean rolled his eyes, turning with a huff to head back to the car before changing his mind, shaking his head as he turned to stare at her back.
“Buffy,” he said, calmly. “Just tell me if you-“ And then he watched her back stiffen, her hands suddenly stopping their actions where she had bent over to pick up a few dirty rags. She stood, her back still to him and Dean could practically see the guilt stamped all over her sexy little ass. “You did!”
Buffy whipped around, her hands up. “Well…” She shrugged. “Dawn gave me some purple gum last week...” Dean opened his mouth, his eyes turning murderous and she continued in a rush, “It was after those onion rings we had at that stupid little bar you love and I wanted to kiss you but I had no gum and I didn’t want to gross you out and…”
She paused in her ramblings as he just glared at her. She shrugged again, helplessly. “I was mad,” she replied meekly.
“Mad?” he spat out. “You were mad you ate stupid onion rings and so you stuck your shitty gum in my baby?”
“Oh, stop calling that damn car your baby, you jackass,” Buffy whipped back, throwing her hands on her hips as his face darkened at her words. She glared right back at him. “I was mad because you were flirting with that stupid waitress when you went to pay the tab.”
Realization settled on Dean and he smirked. “You were mad that I was flirting? Right… I remember that night. It had nothing to do with the fact that I took your gun away, right? Because you were complaining about the rats
… About how you were going to shoot
the rats.” His voice was purposely dumbed down, almost as if he was asking, ‘Are you fucking serious?’
“I was not going to shoot the rats,” Buffy replied lamely, remembering her own fuzzy version of that night. She did remember hearing a few things like scuttling underneath the floor but stuff had started to blur after her second shot of tequila... Dean just stared at her and she shrugged again. “I wasn’t.”
Dean, shaking his head in disbelief, turned away from and headed back towards the garage. He heard her following him but he slammed the garage door in her face before heading to the trash cans. He rubbed his fingers on the side until all the gum was all off when he heard her come up behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Dean didn’t reply.
“Dean…” she said, her voice teasing. “Come on, I’m sorry…” He felt her press her face against his shoulder blade, her lips shaped into a full-on pout and he ignored his body’s reaction, ignored the chills falling down his spine, the goose bumps as she wrapped her arms around his chest from behind.
“How old are you?” Dean asked, turning in her arms and glaring down at her, ignoring her pitiful pout, her dewy eyes, the fact that she looked sexy as all hell and felt even sexier as she pressed the full length of her body against his. He glared harder at her. “Seriously… And you’re never getting in her again.”
Buffy rolled her eyes playfully, the pout never disappearing and Dean looked away from her. She pressed her forehead against his chin, the two days old stubble pressing into her, pulling him close. She pressed her lips to his chest before saying, “I won’t do it again.”
“It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean replied, finally bringing his arms up around her, hugging her close and she let out a little sigh. “And then you go and blame the cute waitress.”
Buffy instantly pulled back and Dean smirked at her. She gave him a hard look and he shrugged guiltlessly. “She was cute.”
Buffy let out a little huff, pushing away from him and he let out a full laugh, holding her back by her wrist. He jerked her back into his arms, one hand moving to her cheek while the other grabbed her by the back of her neck. He smiled against her lips before kissing her and she let out a little chuckle of her own before kissing him back.
As always, their kisses were full of heat and never failed to escalate into more. Buffy moaned into his mouth, bringing her hands up to grip the front of his shirt in her fists. A moment passed before Dean pulled away and Buffy let out a wispy breath, biting her bottom lip.
“How do you do that?” she whispered and Dean gave her a self-satisfying smirk before pressing his lips against her nose.
“It’s this stupid crap called love or whatever.” Buffy rolled her eyes again before pulling back. She gave him a knowing half-smile as she turned away and Dean snatched her wrist again. “Whoa, woman, where do you think you’re going?”
Buffy furrowed her brows. “Uh, back to cleaning my knives?”
“Uh, no,” Dean replied, shaking his head. He pointed at his black beauty, sitting in the sunlight on the driveway, all shiny and open and gorgeous.
“You’re going to help me clean up some gum, hot stuff.”
Buffy opened her mouth to argue but Dean pulled her back into his arms. “Uh uh,” he said smoothly, kissing her forehead before pushing her out into the sunlight, towards the Impala. “You’ll probably want to bend over at the hip when you do it… you know,” he said with a dirty smile, “So you can see all the way back…”
Buffy glared at him as she slipped her sunglasses back down, covering her eyes and Dean couldn’t hold back his smile as she turned towards his baby.
But not before flipping him off.
He chuckled, leaning down to the mini-fridge and grabbing a beer. He quickly popped the top and threw it behind him as he ventured out to watch her work. His eyes were glued to her ass as she leaned over, her cheeks poking out even more from the tiny shorts as she bent right at the hip, just as he suggested. He felt his pants getting tight as she peeked at him over her shoulder before looking under the seat.
“You’re such a baby,” he heard her saying, her voice muffled, his thoughts on very different things. “It’s not even that bad.”
Goddamn, the woman infuriated him but goddamn, he loved the hell out of her.