DO's AND DONT's


Story type: Triple Drabble (Word count: 3 x 100) | E/O Challenge | Challenge is to end the story with this line: "I'm driving."

Genre: General

Characters: Sam, Dean

Timeline: Can be any season

Rating: K

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Experimenting again. You know me, right? I haven't written a drabble for a long time, but this challenge really got me, so: thank you Enkidu and Onyx for the idea!

This is a triple drabble – three drabbles with exactly 100 words each - and in this case every part ends with the challenge line, "I'm driving." I hope you like it! Actually, I wanted to post only the first part but then it just bit me and I decided to write a three-part-story.

Enjoy!


Sam watched the men unload the trunk – their guns, their knives, everything found it's way from the Impala into their enemy's truck.

"What is this about?" Dean spat, his brother's stance mirroring his, hands raised, every muscle tense, irritation and anxiety written all over his face.

"We just want a word with you two." The bearded guy waved his gun in a playful manner. "You can hop right in."

Sam's eyes widened. "What? Into the trunk?"

The guy nodded and held out his hand. "Keys, please." He smiled a toothless grin. "I'm driving."


"Dean...stop wriggling..." The next elbow connecting with Sam's ribs would have serious consequences for his brother, prisoners in their own car or not.

"Shut up, I'm not wriggling, I'm trying to reach the secret compartment..."

Oh yeah, Dean was pissed. As if it wasn't wicked enough to be trapped in a trunk with his height, being trapped with an agitated and pissed off Dean was pure torture.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch", Dean continued his rant, struggling and wriggling on, much to Sam's dismay, "Who does he think he is, 'I'm driving.'?"


Three mistakes. One – Don't mess with Winchesters. Two – Never forget the shackles. Three – Don't. Touch. The. Impala. Period.

The moment they heard the key turn in the trunk lid lock, the brothers sprung into action, using the moment of surprise and the spare guns Dean always hid in the trunk. It was over before it had even begun.

With their opponents on the ground, unarmed and not-so-cocky anymore, Sam stretched his muscles and got their weapons back while Dean crouched in front of the bearded guy, snatching the Impala's keys.

Dean cocked his head. "I'm. Driving."


The end.