Knight in Shining Armor
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. It's probably a good thing. Right now, if they belonged to me, I'd have them out cleaning my garage. What a mess!
Lightly beta'd by the divine Ms. Muffy. All errors belong to me.
AN: WTH? Okay, so I understand sibling rivalry, but really, Dean. Five a.m.? First person/present tense? Outsider PoV? Overkill, much? Now, leave me alone. I need sleep. Chowderhead.
Rain. Perfect. I'd only been in the store for twenty minutes and now it was coming down in buckets. "Stupid freakin' weather," I mutter, placing the bags quickly in the trunk of my soon-to-be ex-husband's, no-nonsense, family friendly, Honda Accord sedan. Boring car, it suits him, I snort. But then, that's my life, or was until Chas was cliché enough to have an affair with his secretary. "Bastard."
I slide into the car with blessed warmth being the highest priority. Quickly adjusting the defroster and heat setting, I push the key into the ignition and turn it. Nothing. It doesn't even try to turn over. "No," I whisper in disbelief. Even my life does not suck this much. I turn the key again. Still nothing. "No, no, no."
I check the lights, but they aren't on, so I don't see how I could have run down the battery. I try again. Third time's the charm, right? Slumping my shoulders in defeat, I flop back against the seat. Thirteen years of marriage and it had dissolved to this. A broken down car, two beautiful children at home waiting for the frozen pizzas I had in the trunk, and a tub of slowly melting rocky road ice cream. "Son of a bitch!" I shout, slamming my hands against the steering wheel.
The knock on my window sets my heart racing. I should have known. I can't even have a breakdown with dignity. All I can see through the rain-streaked glass is jeans and leather jacket. Perfect. Some macho man thinking I'm a damsel in distress. I really don't need this. I laugh as the full irony of that thought sinks in. I am a damsel in distress, at least today.
I crack the window and he leans closer. "Are you okay?" he asks. I'm momentarily stunned into silence by captivating green eyes and a set of killer lips. He has to be great at kissing with lips like that.
"I, uh, the car won't start," I stammer, sounding like an idiot. Nice to know my college education wasn't wasted.
"Do you want me to take a look at it?" He nods towards the hood, rain dripping off his nose. He could be inside already, not standing out in the rain trying to help a middle-aged woman with her car. Deciding, perhaps stupidly, it means he can't be a serial killer I pop the hood.
"Thank you so much," I say as I climb out of the car. "It was working fine and now it just won't start."
His response is muffled by the hood, but his ass is sticking out from under the leather jacket now that he's bent at the waist, emerged inside my car. Not bad. I guess he caught me staring because when he stands, the smirk on his face could melt butter. "Would you try starting it again?"
"Sure," I say, hope flaring anew. Twisting the key in the ignition I pray to all that is holy it starts. It doesn't. I jump when the hood slams shut. He's by my side before I have to time to recover. "Thanks anyway for trying."
"Hey, I have a couple more tricks," he coos.
I'll just bet you do, I think. His face lights up and the crinkles around his eyes deepen slightly. I sigh. I must have said it out loud. "This isn't some elaborate plan to steal my car, is it?"
He smiles and God help me if it doesn't add to his charm. "She's not really my type." He points over to a huge black car two spots away from mine. I don't know anything about cars, but I can tell it is old, a classic all-American car. Nice.
"I guess not," I say. "She's a beauty." With as much remaining pride as I can muster, I slip from the car and he takes my place behind the wheel.
He couldn't have been in the seat for more than thirty seconds when he says, "I think I found your problem, ma'am."
Ma'am? Well, if that didn't just squelch any fantasies I was dreaming up. He does something I can't quite see and the blasted thing starts. "Wha..?" He looks up at me, grinning, then exits my car. "What did you do?"
"I put it in Park," he says simply. "It won't start in Drive."
I'd left it in Drive? Inwardly I groaned. I have a brain somewhere around here, I know I do. "Thanks, uh…?"
"Dean," he supplies. His attention is diverted when a very tall, also 'too handsome to be in this sleepy hamlet' man walks by. "I'll be right there, Sammy," he says, tossing the other man a set of keys. Sammy deftly catches the keys and rolls his eyes at him, but shakes his head with a grin.
Dean watches the taller man walk away. It's just for a moment, but that's all it takes for me to see the affection, the love in his eyes. I may not have seen it directed at me for awhile, but I still recognize it when I see it. Figures, all good men are either married or gay. These days, it's sometimes both. "Well, thanks." I give him a polite smile and he seems to pick up on the change.
It's his turn to roll his eyes, but it's directed at me. "Sam's my brother."
"Why do people always think…" his voice trails off as he realizes he's wondering aloud.
I could tell him why. How the lethal combination of stereo-typical male, combined with looks almost too pretty for a man, and a gaze he gives his brother usually reserved for proud parents adds up to misinterpretation and false assumptions. I decide not to, because really, he isn't asking.
He snaps back to the present with a comical, screwed up, 'what the hell?' face. "I didn't catch your name."
"Charlie." Suddenly, it's hard to concentrate again. I realize, belatedly, it's stopped raining.
"Look, Charlie, I gotta go," he apologizes and darn it if he doesn't look genuinely sorry to leave. "Sam and I are kind of on a deadline here."
"Don't apologize," I say, waving him off. "Thanks again."
"It was my pleasure," Dean says, with a wink and that knowing look. I can feel the blush starting up my cheeks.
I get into my car, the heater having turned it into an inferno in the span of minutes, and shut the door. I watch as Sam says something to Dean that causes him to smirk. Sam's smiles back and dimples sink into his cheeks. Heaven help their mother because she must have had to fight girls off with a stick when they were younger. Metallica beats out of his stereo so loud I can hear the lyrics in my car.
I watch him drive off, sending a little prayer after my good Samaritan. I know how unlikely it is to be rescued by a knight in shining armor, and I don't know what Dean's really like but today, for me, he was a hero.
AN: Subtract twenty years and add one cranky father-in-law and you have the truth. :)
Thanks for reading! I know this is very different from my normal fare. I can't explain it. I'm not even going to try.