she's not just four wheels and engine

[venatoris]

WHO: Deano & Roofus
WHEN: before the mission
WHERE: All over
WHAT: dean gets to show off his car
NOTES\WARNINGS: nah


So Dean gets the impala and he can't geek out enough over it. First thing he does is wash her fifty times, cruise around where he can with the windows down, savoring the scent of a full tank of premium fuel, blasting Night Moves from the tape deck. It's what was in the car last he saw it, and hey - Bob Seger is one of the greatest rock writers of all time, so he ain't mad about it.

He does, however, miss having someone to share it with. Sam's usually shotgun, sometimes Cas, but right now the passenger side is empty and he isn't about that life.

So he makes the decision to go snag a friend, because what's life if you can't share the things you love? So he pulls up to the ridiculously big building that might be compensating for something, and just starts laying on the horn.

Get your ass out here, bro.

Comments

[unionized]

[Here's a fact that one might not guess about Rufus Shinra, just from a glance at his posh rich-kid exterior: he likes classic cars as much as he does cutting-edge ones. There were always models on display in the showcase at Shinra Headquarters — luxury limousines and four-door family wagons and stubby-nosed utility trucks and sporty little coupes. They were rare and curious in the way that they weren't all sleek and streamlined aesthetic like the rest of the hypermodern building. They stayed there preserved as a piece of history.

Maybe that's why he'd liked them, subconsciously: because they were important enough to be forgiven their imperfections, their lack of modernity. They weren't discarded just because something better came along; they didn't always have to compete to be the best, lest they be deemed obsolete and unnecessary.

Or maybe that's just a lot of psychological bullshit, but still. They were fascinating cars, nevertheless.

And so is the one that pulls up outside of the tower — boxy, heavy, missing all the hallmarks of sleek modernity in favor of something sturdy and timeless, but polished to a shine and clearly beloved. The horn is definitely functional, too. Functional and fucking obnoxious.]

Can't you get arrested for disturbing the peace around here?

[So he says when he eventually exits the building — having stopped off at his quarters to leave Darkstar in his room, as a quiet courtesy to the person he correctly assumed would prove to be the driver — with his coat thrown on over a dark turtleneck and slacks, and a wryly curious expression on his face.]

Or have you just gone hard of hearing in your old age?

[venatoris]

[ Dean remembers the day he'd talked his father into buying this car over a stupid VW bus. His mother had wanted it, and he'd already started negotiations but...it was the wrong choice and Dean knew that, knew the second he saw John in that lot.

He'd been back in time, desperately trying to change the past to escape the future, but the only real change he'd made was that. Maybe that was the most important of all. Baby was home, and he can't imagine any other vehicle providing the same level of comfort. Besides, she's the kinda car you'd lock your doors at seeing upon pulling up next to it at a stoplight. You can hide a body in that trunk, and he definitely has.

He pops a finger up from behind the door, flashing a grin before leaning on it with his elbow. She's rumbling under the hood, idling as they speak. ]

What took you so long to get down here? Your knees getting bad, kiddo?

[unionized]

I was looking for a pair of earplugs.

[There's one thing that needs no explanation: it's more than just that Dean loves this car. The emotion he's radiating isn't mere approval or even excitement; if anything, he looks the way Rufus had felt when they'd opened the door to his room in the tower for the very first time, and he'd heard the familiar jingle of a chain collar he'd know anywhere.

Lucky for him, he's considerably less afraid of a vehicle than Dean seems to be when Darkstar's around.]

Gonna take me for a ride? Or do I get to drive?

[There is absolutely no way he is going to get to drive. The grin on his face shows he knows it.]

[venatoris]

Get in, you big wimp. And no one drives my baby but me.

[ And Sam, rarely. If he's feeling magnanimous and generous, which isn't all that often. They might've grown up together in the car, but she's always been Dean's, even before their old man properly gifted it to him on his 18th.

It's why he's so delighted to have it, all waxed and pristine. Last he'd seen her, she'd been smashed up because of friggin' werepires. While he loved nothing more than solidly focusing on working on her, repairing, meticulous maintenence, sourcing pats, etc - it was a pain in the ass and time consuming, and taking one of the other cars in the bunker (which now resemble oversized tonka toys, which isn't his favorite) was usually out of the question. ]

[unionized]

Your baby.

[But it's not as though being chauffeured around is unusual to him, for all that he might equally enjoy being in control behind the wheel. So maybe he doesn't usually have to open his own doors, but you know what, today he can be a man of the people.

So around he goes, without further comment, and adjusts the sunglasses he's been wearing for slightly better coverage of the black eye he's still sporting. It's one thing to keep it concealed from a distance, but within the close confines of a vehicle? He'll be lucky if he escapes notice — particularly given that Dean is assuredly a lot more observant than he pretends to be.]

There's a story to her, I'm sure. So what is it?

[venatoris]

She's a lady.

[ There's about zero chance Dean isn't gonna notice the result of what looks like a solid facer, but for the time being, he doesn't comment. Give him time, though. It's a-comin'. ]

Oh, there's a story alright. [ Long, kind of weird. Complicated.

He doesn't offer anything up just yet, just puts the car in drive and peels out, heading to whatever main drag the city has to offer. Tires squealing, dust flying, the scent of rubber and fuel in the air. ]

She was my dad's first, got her in '73 before I was even born. He was about to buy one of those awful Volkswagon bus things, but, uh - I happened to be around and convinced him otherwise. [ Around before he was born, what a concept. ]