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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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774
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1/1
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The Real Reason Dean Owns the Impala

Summary:

Title: The Real Reason Dean Owns the Impala
Author: Linda Atkinson
Pairing: Dean/John a little rough language.
Warnings: Probably not as funny as I think it is, but what the hell.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Dean sat in the shot gun seat pouting. He bit his lower lip and glanced over at his father. "Dad, I want to talk about the car..."

"All you want to talk about is the car. Look we don't need another car. This one is just fine." John said gruffly. He pulled the car into the road, flinging gravel in its wake. Dean slunk down in the seat, staring out the window.

"This is humiliating, Dude. A twenty-two year old man should not have to ride with his Dad." John rolled his eyes, and Dean growled. His father smiled happily winking at Dean and running his tongue over his lower lip.

"Oh please, don't think that flirting with me will work. I have the market cornered on Winchester charm."

"Who do you think you got it from?" John asked smugly. It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. Leaning over Dean glanced at the speedometer. John was exceeding the speed limit by at least twenty miles per hour. With a sly grin Dean reached down casually and turned off the police scanner John habitually kept tuned into the highway patrol.

"Tell you what; John my lover, light of my life, who ever gets the next speeding ticket gives up the car. If I get a ticket while I'm driving I'll stop asking about you giving me the Impala, and if you get a ticket you buy yourself that huge-assed truck we saw at Bobby's and give me the pink on this bad boy."

John cast his glance over at his son's smug face, and felt a momentary flicker of unease, but he had the scanner on so what the hell. Taking one hand off the steering wheel he offered it to Dean. "Okay, deal."

They shook on it.

As if by magic the air was cut by the sound of a police siren, and blue lights painted their rear window. John frowned he should have been able to hear that coming on the scanner. Dean cocked an eyebrow at John's dark expression.

John pulled the Impala over onto the gravel, and rolled down the window. The cop opened his cruiser door, and walked up the shoulder pulling out a pad and pen. He leaned down looking at John through the window.

"May I have your license and registration, please?"

He waited while John fished the registration out of the glove compartment, and then fumbled in the cup holder to retrieve his wallet. He passed his i.d. out the window, and the cop compared the picture to John's face.

"Do you know how fast you were going, Mr. Winchester?"

"Ah, no I wasn't really paying attention, officer." John said with a sheepish grin. Dean looked right at the cop and shook his head.

"Come on, Dad. You know you were going twenty over, you usually do. You said so."

John shot him a look that could have frozen a lava flow.

"Shut the hell up, Dean."

The cop flinched and Dean shrugged.

"Mr. Winchester, twenty miles is really dangerous. You should be careful. And you don't even have your seatbelt on." He flipped the ticket book closed as if John's answer would determine whether or not the ticket was actually written. John patted his shoulder.

"I had it on, but I took it off so I could get my wallet out of my pocket." John said lamely, praying that the cop hadn't seen his wallet lying on the cup holder.

Dean grunted and both his father and the cop looked over at him. "Dad, you know you never wear a seatbelt."

"God damn it, Dean. Shut the hell up." The cop glared at John flipping the ticket book open again. John was fuming now, glaring at his son. Who merely sat there with a grin on his face.

"Mr. Winchester, how have you managed to keep your license so far?" the cop said tucking the aforementioned license into the ticket book.

John shrugged. "This is really not normal for me. I was just in a little bit of a hurry. "

Before John could continue Dean piped-up. "I guess it was too bad your scanner was turned off, huh?" The cop leaned down looking a John, whose face was slowly going an alarming shade of crimson.

"I said shut the hell up, boy, and I mean it." John snapped. The cop looked over at Dean who sighed as if he was the most put-upon person in the world.

"Does your father always talk to you like this, son?"

Sliding his gaze back to his father's face, Dean winked. "Naw, only when he's drunk."

The End

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Linda Atkinson.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.