Actions

Work Header

Going My Way?

Work Text:





Dean resisted slamming down the hood, but only barely.  There was nothing wrong that he could see.  Nothing.  Spark plugs, engine, starter, transmission, oil, all of it was fine.  Yet Baby was refusing to start.  


He gave a frustrated growl.  He had built this car from the ground up.  He knew her.  Inside and out.  He should be able to tell what is wrong.  


"Dean, just give up and call a mechanic."


"I am a damn mechanic!"  Dean snarled, leaning around the hood to glare at Sam.  


Sam flipped Dean off.  ”Then call someone with a working car who can tow us to a damn garage and you can figure out what is wrong without you getting heatstroke!” 


"If I can’t find anything wrong a mechanic certainly-" Dean was cut off by the roar of another car heading down the highway.  He stopped and stared, a shiver crawling up his spine.  He might have been partial (okay, EXTREMELY partial) to Baby, but that car?  Holy shit.


"Dean you’re drooling."  Sam called, waving his hand at the incoming car.  At the very least they could borrow a phone.  


Dean bit his lip and watched as the red and white 1955 Buick Special pulled closer.  ”Sam, you don’t get it, that car, it’s…”  He swallowed.  She was GORGEOUS.  Chrome gleaming in the sunlight.  She was a lady, a proper lady, just like the Impala.  He gave a low whistle.  ”That’s a guy who knows how to take care of his car.”  


Two seconds later, when the Buick pulled to a stop, Dean prayed that Sam hadn’t heard, because there was Gabriel, grinning from the seat.  


"Well, well, well.  My two favorite pretty boys.  Need a lift?"  Gabriel raised an eyebrow.  


Sam was standing next to the Buick with a pleased smile in a second.  ”Absolutely.”  


Dean let his eyes sweep over the car again.  Damn.  Why did Gabriel have to have excellent taste in cars?  He didn’t want to like the guy.  ”She’s gorgeous.” 


Gabriel’s eyes snapped to Dean and he gave a smile, a genuine one.  ”Thanks kid.  Hop in.  Where we going?”  


Sam opened the front door and then jumped back when loud barking started up from the front seat.  ”What the-“


"Spot, behave!  The boys are our guests!"  Gabriel grinned at Sam.  "Sorry kiddo.  He’s a little possessive of shotgun."  


Sam watched the Jack Russell terrier gave another growl, bearing his teeth before he curled up again. “You named your dog Spot?”


"Seemed better than Jack!"  Gabriel shot back, pointing to the backseat.  "Climb in Sasquatch.  I’ll take you guys wherever you need to go, and I’ll make sure your baby shows up there too."  


"I’m not going to leave her here!"  Dean grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  


Gabriel looked at Dean for a long moment, then softened.  ”I’ll make sure she arrives hale and hearty.  If you’re lucky, I might even help you find what’s wrong.”  


Dean huffed and looked back at his Baby.  He didn’t even know what was wrong.  ”I’ll let you under her hood if you let me under yours.”  


Gabriel waggled his eyebrows.  ”As flattered as I am Dean-O, I’m carrying a bit of a torch for your brother.  I’ve got a little brother who might be pissed if you start looking under my hood.  Now my baby?  Of course you can get under hers.”  


Sam rolled his eyes and eyed Spot again, wondering if he could scoop him up and toss him into the back seat.  ”Can you get your dog into the back seat Gabriel?”  Spot started to growl again and Sam kept a close eye on him. 


"Just hop in the back Sasquatch.  You’ll fit, I promise."  Gabriel winked at Sam.  


"Seriously Gabriel, you can’t put your dog in the backseat?"  Sam huffed and slid into the back, and he was surprised to find that he had MUCH more leg room than he should have had in a car like this.  


Gabriel looked in the rearview mirror and smirked.  ”See?  Told Ya.  Come on Dean-O, get in!”  


"You’re never going to fit two six foot dudes in the back seat of this car."  Dean said, rolling his eyes.  


"Trickster and Archangel~" Gabriel said, his voice sing-song.  "Come on Dean, get in before I change my mind and leave you both stranded here."  


Dean sighed and resigned himself to an afternoon of squished legs and Sam pressed up against him.  He climbed into the back and settled in and blinked.  ”What the hell?”  


"Trickster!" Gabriel said, raising his hand to snap.  The Impala disappeared.  "She’s safe Deanster, don’t worry.  Parked in Rose’s spot even."  


"Rose?"  Dean raised an eyebrow, surprised when Led Zeppelin came on the radio.  


"You think you’re the only one who can name their car?"  Gabriel dropped a hand to Spot’s neck, scratching behind his ear.  


Dean looked around the car, then down at the legroom and space that he and Sam should DEFINITELY not have.  He relaxed and leaned back against the bench seat.  ”What have you got under the hood?”  


Sam settled in against the window, closing his eyes as Gabriel lit up and he and Dean began discussing different engine types in classic cars and proper restoration methods.  With some Zeppelin on the radio…it was almost like home.




 

And if, after they finished their case in Nebraska, Gabriel invited Dean back to his garage to restoration car heaven, and he and Dean spent hours getting dirty under the hoods of cars, trying to educate Cas on some of the finer details….


And if, maybe, he didn’t have a bedroom separate from Gabriel’s any longer?  If he felt like the bedroom done in garish reds and golds was a little bit his…?


If, after some coaxing (and lots of treats), he realized that he might have the dog that he had always wanted…?


And if…Sam was starting to think that ‘home’ might be a slightly-messy apartment that had self-filling bowls of skittles, M&Ms or KitKats (Sam’s favorite, and he noticed that the bowl appeared only after he arrived), depending on the mood of the Trickster who lived there….?


Well.  Dean was happier than he’d been in a long time.  So was Cas.  Maybe home was whatever they made it.  Together.


And if that home was here?  Well.  That was his little secret.  His, Gabriel’s, and a little trickster magic that made sure the Impala wouldn’t start.