cloudy_fic | FIC: A Car Story, PG-13, Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel

Title: A Car Story
Author: CloudyJenn
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count:
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Warnings: Utter crack
Summary: Dean doesn't even realize he's lonely until the other car shows up in his garage.
Author's Notes: This story was written for

c00kie for her birthday. Happy Birthday!

Dean doesn't mind being the only car in the garage.

There's a cute little VW Beetle he sometimes sees when his owner visits the grocery store who talks non-stop about this big strapping SUV who lives with her. According to the Bug, there's nothing quite like finding that one perfect car to complete your life. The way she describes being parked so close by his side at night, how she can feel the heat from his engine even hours after his owner shuts him off, finally being saved from making conversation with the lawnmowers and weed whackers in her garage...well, Dean has to admit, it doesn't sound so bad.

But Dean's a classic car. He's getting on in years and not once did his various owners ever store him with another vehicle. What was the point? Dean's powerful and beautiful enough to satisfy any owner. He's lasted all these thirty-one years without a partner car. He can't exactly miss something he's never had and truth be told, Dean enjoys having the exclusive attention of his owner.

Okay, so his current owner isn't exactly great with cars. Sam inherited Dean from his father, John, who was a very attentive owner. But what Sam lacks in knowledge, he makes up for in affection. Sam practically grew up within Dean's careful metallic embrace. Dean is his home and Dean loves Sam very much. He enjoys being Sam's only mode of transportation, even if it means that sometimes Sam neglects to replace a bad part for too long.

Sam lives alone in a moderately sized brick home he purchased when he began working at his law firm. His garage is more than large enough for Dean and the various other machines Sam keeps. Sam parks Dean close to the door to his house, so Dean's not annoyed at night by Chuck the lawnmower's snoring or the constant complaining of Ruby the buzz saw.

For the most part, Sam is the only person who rides in Dean. Sometimes he'll pick up his co-worker Victor on the way to the office or drive his friends to a bar on the weekend, but Sam never lends Dean out. Dean is too special to risk another person driving him. At least that's what Dean likes to think. In return for this courtesy, Dean is sure to stay as steady as he can on the roads and to protest loudly if any of his parts begin to wear out in a dangerous manner.

Occasionally, Sam has a human partner. It doesn't happen as often as Dean would think, considering that Sam is a very nice human. He thinks maybe Sam works too much to find time for meeting other humans. When Sam does find humans to date, he favors males, who are generally very impressed by Dean's complete awesomeness. This leads to lengthy discussions on the way to their dates where Sam expounds on the various reasons why Dean is awesome.

Dean likes it when Sam has dates.

Unless Sam decides to have sex in his backseat. That's just gross.

Still, Dean wants Sam to be happy and so, when he begins going out with the same guy over and over again, Dean is pretty happy about it. The guy in question, a short mouthy little shit named Gabriel, isn't the world's most pleasant human, but for all his flippancy and smart-ass remarks, he treats Sam well. It's not long before Dean realizes that Gabriel is making Sam feel pretty good about his life and so he doesn't mind so much when Sam leaves him in the garage in favor of going places in Gabriel's car, who Dean's never met.

Until one night when the garage door opens and a strange car slides into place next to him.

Surprise and a quiver of worry worms into his spark plugs at this new invader. The car is oddly flat and silver, somewhat younger than Dean, but with an air of power about him that Dean can't help admiring. Then the new car's doors open. Upwards from his center.

It's a fucking DeLorean.

Dean can't help it. He snickers.

The other car doesn't say anything as Sam and Gabriel stumble out of his interior and struggle to get inside Sam's house without stopping kissing. His silence only lasts until the humans are finally gone.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Dude," Dean says. "You have wings."

He senses irritation boiling off the other car.

"I have gull-wing doors," the car corrects in an arch tone that grates on Dean's wiring. "That's hardly comedic."

"That's the very definition of comedy," Dean argues. "Plus...you're a DeLorean."

That really should explain everything. But the DeLorean apparently doesn't agree. He huffs and shuts down completely, refusing to speak to Dean again that night. It's awkward being pressed close to a strange car for an entire night. Dean even considers striking up a conversation with Rufus, the leaf blower, but the inevitable argument is probably a worse fate than the strained silence.

The following morning, Gabriel bounds out to his car and hops in, clearly in a very good mood and soon enough the stuffy DeLorean is gone.

Dean's windshield wipers release in relief.

Unfortunately, the car returns to Dean's garage the very next night.

Tense quiet falls over the garage once more when the humans are gone. Anger curls in Dean's engine. This is his garage, damnit. This stuck-up 1980s piece of junk has no right to make him feel uncomfortable in his own home. Screw him, Dean thinks as he turns to the DeLorean and flips his front left light at him.

"So, travelled through time lately?"

The DeLorean wheezes lightly.

"No," he says blandly, obviously having heard that question a lot. Dean shifts on his axis a little, amused beyond belief.

"I thought that was the only reason people bought DeLoreans," he says.

That earns him a short indignant horn blast and the DeLorean's sudden intense focus, his front lights shining brightly in Dean's windows. Dean feels exposed under all that powerful focus, as if the DeLorean could see below his frame right to his very engine.

"My owner purchased me because he enjoys my design and dependability," the DeLorean growls. "What I don't understand is why any human would continue to drive a boat like you."

Dean's own lights flare up. Oh, it is so on.

"I'm a classic, buddy," he says, leaning the other way on his axis, looming over the DeLorean. The boxy short sports car is no match for Dean's size and length, but to Dean's chagrin, the DeLorean doesn't back down. Instead, he puffs himself up just as much and even slightly opens his wing doors in a menacing fashion. Dean's not exactly proud of the way it makes his suspension quiver.

"You are unnecessarily large and arrogant," the DeLorean shoots back. "Just because you are considered a classic by some does not mean that you aren't clumsy and inefficient."

"Look who's talking," Dean barks, annoyed and confused by the way he's reacting to the other car. "You have fucking wings for doors. At least I'm good-looking."

"How-"

"Oh my god, get a room!"

The new voice belongs to Jo, the resident weed-whacker. Dean and the DeLorean's lights snap to her position on the hook Sam put up for her.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Dean growls.

"Oh please," Jo says, snorting lightly. "You could cut the tension with a knife. You're just mad at him because you always pictured yourself with a sleek sexy German model and instead you're attracted to this box with wings." Her gaze transfers to the DeLorean's windows. "Don't know your issue, but I'll tell you this much. You might as well give up now because when Dean wants something, he's damned persistent."

"I am not attracted to that," Dean says, opening his door in the DeLorean's direction. Unfortunately, he opens it just far enough to graze the DeLorean's silvered surface. At the warm smooth touch, Dean's suspension bucks and he can't help the way his engine revs faintly.

Jo snorts again.

"Whatever, Dean."

He turns to gage the DeLorean's reaction, but like the night before, he's shut himself off.

Dean's wipers lift weakly.

This is not good.

*******************

The DeLorean does not return the following night, which gives Dean time to think about what Jo said.

For much of the night, he tells himself that she's crazy. The DeLorean is hardly a handsome car. His squared edges lend it no elegance or true beauty. The fact that his body is unpainted doesn't help matters. Surely he was built by someone lacking emotion or creativity. He is nothing, but cold stainless steel and ugly construction and stupid wings.

Dean can't possibly be attracted to him.

Every time he nearly has himself convinced, Dean remembers the way it felt to touch the DeLorean's surface, the way he'd felt under the DeLorean's heavy bright gaze.

There'd been nothing cold about touch, nothing emotionless about that stare.

And the worst part is that Dean can't help wanting them both again.

He leans on his front right tire. This is such a mess. He knows nothing about the DeLorean, not even his name. For all he knows, Sam will stop dating Gabriel and Dean won't see the DeLorean again. Plus, talking to the DeLorean makes Dean want to blow a gasket. It doesn't matter that Dean keeps musing on the VW Beetle's words. It's best to just keep himself to himself and not think about the DeLorean at all.

His plan pretty much fails spectacularly the following night when Sam drives him to a strange garage and parks him alongside the DeLorean. This garage is even smaller than Sam's. When Sam steps out of Dean and reaches back into him for a bag of groceries, he leaves Dean's door pressed against the DeLorean's wing door. Heat spreads from that point of contact all along his body, warming his leather seats and making him think inappropriate thoughts about the DeLorean's trunk.

When Sam finally shuts his door, Dean is so relieved that he coughs before Sam even has a chance to leave. His owner eyes him with concern, but when Dean stays quiet again, he shrugs and opens Gabriel's side door with a key of his own.

Interesting. Dean hadn't realized their relationship had progressed so far.

He's so distracted by this revelation that he doesn't notice the DeLorean's rumbling until the other car's engine hiccups in an obvious attempt to get his attention. With reluctance, Dean swings his headlights to meet the DeLorean's.

"Castiel," the DeLorean says.

"Huh?"

"My name. Castiel," he offers.

"Of course it is," Dean says without thinking. "Because you weren't weird enough before."

When Castiel's headlights glow brighter with irritation and he begins a haughty lecture about the various faults of Impalas, Dean thinks maybe he actually likes provoking Castiel.

***********************

In the following months, not a day goes by without Dean spending the night in Castiel's garage or vice versa. Sam and Gabriel are sitting on Dean's leather seats when they exchange what Dean suspects is their first declaration of love. Their joy and passionate kissing quickly devolves into a fight about who wanted to say it first. The way Gabriel goads Sam reminds Dean strongly of himself and Castiel and so he shuts off for the night rather than have to contemplate it.

Things are actually going well with Castiel though. As they grow used to each other, the need to antagonize mellows into something like teasing. Castiel isn't so bad, once you get to know him. Dean learns that he was born in 1981 in Northern Ireland and that he had seven owners before Gabriel. Almost against his will, Dean is fascinated by Castiel's adventures. After he was purchased new in 1967 by a quiet lawyer looking to impress women, Dean was bought by John and then given to Sam. Besides Detroit, where he was born and Lawrence, where they now live, Dean's never really been anywhere. Castiel, on the other hand, has been driven through three continents and has endless stories about his travels across Europe, Asia and North America.

In comparison, Dean thinks he must be boring, but Castiel actually seems interested in his stories about his owners' lives. Like he's envious of Dean's connection with the Winchester family and when he thinks of it that way, Dean can see why. He'd take being loved for years by the same people over being passed from hand to hand any day.

The only problem with Castiel is the way he stares at Dean. It's the times that Sam parks Dean so close to Castiel that he can feel the vibrations when Castiel revs angrily at him. When their doors touch briefly, sending a flare of lust right down to his very tires.

When Dean realizes his headlights are trailing over Castiel's blocky lines and burnished silver body and he's not at all displeased by what he sees.

"Dean?"

Dean's headlights shift suddenly from Castiel's shapely back tires.

"Huh?"

"I asked you if you heard what Gabriel just said," Castiel says as he peers closely at Dean and opens his door against Dean's. "Are you alright?"

Dean's engine guns and he backs away from Castiel's door.

"Yeah, no, I'm great. Um...what did he say?"

Castiel eyes him with suspicion, but lets it go in favor of whatever he's about to say. Clearly, he's upset about it. Dean can tell by the way he's tipping back and forth on his axis and waving his wipers excitedly. His passion makes his headlights shine nearly white.

"....into Sam's house!"

Once again, Dean has missed what Castiel's saying in favor of leering at his back tires. Feeling somewhat guilty and a lot warm, Dean drags his gaze back to Castiel's headlights, determined to concentrate. This is important.

"What?"

Castiel blares his horn.

"Listen to me! Gabriel and Sam are moving in together! They're going to live at Sam's house." His wipers are practically a blur now. "I'm moving into your garage!"

Shock rolls down Dean's wiring. If Sam and Gabriel are moving into the same home, that means they are really serious about each other. And they are both serious about their affection for their respective cars. Which means that Dean is going to be stuck living with Castiel for a very long time. Only he can't. He can't sit alongside Castiel every night for years on end and not explode with frustration. He'll bust something important and then Sam will have to scrap him or shove him away under a tarp and he'll never see Castiel again. He'll never touch his weird wing doors again or see his big bright headlights or his comforting boxy presence. He'll be alone again like he's been alone for all these years and pretended he didn't hate because it was easier than wanting something he'd never have.

"Don't leave," Dean blurts.

Castiel's wipers pause.

"I didn't say...Dean, I said we're moving in together, not leaving each other," Castiel says in confusion.

"No, I meant..." Embarrassment warms his hood. "I meant, if you move in with me, but not…not with me..."

He feels Castiel shift closer, carefully lifting his tires until his body touches Deans from hood to trunk. It's warmth and safety and Dean feels his suspension relax a tension he never realized he'd been carrying. Castiel turns his engine over and rubs his front tire against Dean's.

"I won't leave," he murmurs. "I promise."

If Dean's horn bleeps against his will, well, he decides the world can't blame him for being happy.