Baby's Got a Temper
Summary: She'd have gone with him through Hell and back if that would've been possible – but this? Even her patience has limits... Some Impala love for Impala lovers :-)
A/N: Hey, Maingirlwrites, this one's for you – it's just fair since it was your drabble that inspired my little story of love and jealousy :-) Hope you like it. A girl has to dream sometimes, right?
She listens to the soft murmur, the soothing rumble of his voice, full of laughter and joy and excitement, as it hasn't been for ages, and she feels the slight touch of a small hand gliding over the dashboard, hears the right amount of awe in that string of chiming bells, and if she could she would stiffen with indignation, cause how the Hell she dares, that little doll that knows nada about her boy…
"That's a nice car" Dolly chirps, "really… comfortable", and her little hands are long gone from the dashboard und busily engaged in exploring the territory that is Dean Winchester – the strangely exciting maze of his scars, the solid surface of his chest, the surprising softness of neck, the magnetic field his lips seem to enfold…
A sudden blare of Led Zeppelin's "The Queen of Light took her bow" tears them apart, and Dolly-Doll hits her cute head at the window, squealing.
"Not sexy", she thinks with a huge sense of satisfaction. Now go and get her out of our living room.
"What the Hell", Dean mutters, turning off the music that he's never switched on in the first place.
"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" he asks, hiding his grin as perfectly as the fact that he can't remember her name. Cheryl? Sharon? Shannon? Who cares, she's sweet and he's lonely and it's warm and cozy in here…
He offers her his flask again, what's left, anyway, and though at first she has complained about the strange aftertaste (because yeah, of course there's a healthy bit of holy water in the whisky, he won't take the risk of finding himself on a ride with a demon nowadays) she grabs it gratefully and makes herself comfortable on his lap, and Goddamn, he can't think of the last time something has felt so good and promising and utterly natural when he lets his hands drift tenderly beneath her shirt and she literally purrs under his touch...
The sudden blast of cold and stale air against her flesh makes her jump again – and now she's officially pissed, he can tell.
"Jeez, what's wrong with that crappy car of yours – it ain't haunted is it? Kill the friggin' aircon before the goosebumps are going to kill me, will ya?"
"Gotcha, poppet. Nobody calls me crappy, not in the presence of Dean Winchester" she triumphs, shooting another blast of chill towards the insulting female intruding her private space before his fumbling fingers are ending her attack.
He ponders for a moment, puzzlement written allover his face. Then he chuckles, throatily.
"Honey, how about a nice little... picnic... under the stars, huh? I've got some blankets in the trunk, and lots of" – he whispers something in her ear that makes her melt like cheese in the sun and she hops out of the car giggling.
"Come on baby" he breathes in the empty space, gently caressing her soft leather, "you know there's just one girl I love like family. That cutie? She'll be gone tomorrow. But you'll be with me till the end of times."
And she shudders, feeling silly all of a sudden. Because of course she knows – and really: what's wrong with sharing every once in a while... he earns all the happiness he can get. And more!
A/N2: Hope you enjoyed the ride – I loved the idea to write about a jealous and pissed off Impala... actually I think she could've gone a bit further, maybe there will be another story, some day, where she gets the role she deserves – part of the hunt... Hm... **smiles**