Summary: Crossover – SPN/Dukes of Hazzard – "Nice car," Dean commented as he stared at the orange Charger. "Yours, too," the dark-haired guy returned, staring with equal appreciation at the black Impala.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: None for either Supernatural or Dukes of Hazzard
A/N: A story born of the drabble challenge for "kick". Set in season two of SPN.
Just good ol' boys; wouldn't change if they could. ~ Waylon Jennings
"This place kinda reminded me of the Roadhouse," Dean commented as he and Sam exited the bar.
Sam nodded his agreement, glancing over his shoulder and squinting in the afternoon sun as he looked up at the sign that read "Boar's Nest", complete with a snorting boar – mad as hell and kicking up dust to prove it – between the two words.
"And did you see that chick with those shorts?" Dean asked, smiling appreciatively as the image still lingered in his mind – short shorts, short tight shorts – and then looked over at Sam, waggling his eyebrows. "I think she liked me."
Sam rolled his eyes as they continued to cross the parking lot. "You think they all like you, Dean."
"Because they do, Sammy," Dean replied confidently and smiled as Sam rolled his eyes again, always getting a kick out of annoying his little brother.
There was a beat of companionable silence between them.
"You know..." Dean began as they approached the Impala but then stopped – stopped walking and talking – as an orange '69 Dodge Charger rolled into the bar's lot, gravel crunching beneath its tires.
Sam arched an eyebrow at Dean's silence and awestruck expression and followed his brother's gaze.
But Sam frowned at the sight of the Charger.
Because that was what had left his brother speechless?
Sam frowned and tilted his head as he continued to stare at the car, wondering if he was missing something.
Because the Charger looked like any other muscle car to Sam – like one they could probably find back at Bobby's if they searched the yard – and certainly not something that would make him literally stop and stare.
...like Dean was doing.
Sam grinned. "Dean..." he called, a hint of amusement in his voice; clearly getting his own kicks from his brother's sudden enthrallment with another car.
Dean shook his head at Sam, indicating now was not the time to talk while he remained completely focused on the Charger as it made its way across the gravel parking lot; its tires kicking up dust much like the boar on that bar sign.
Dean smiled, taking in the Charger's open windows and the number "01" painted boldly in black on its orange side; wondering vaguely if it was a racecar – either in the past or even now – and then noticed the edges of a Confederate flag painted on the car's roof and the words "General Lee" over its door.
Dean nodded his approval; because every car should have a name, whether it borrowed the name of a Confederate General or was known less officially – and more affectionately – by a term of endearment.
Dean smiled again and patted the roof of his own car as he stood next to her. "Don't be jealous, Baby. I'm just lookin'," he quietly assured the Impala.
Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes, leaning against the Impala's hood as the Charger came to a stop a few cars down from them; knowing his brother well enough to know that Dean would want to talk to whoever was driving the orange Dodge.
In the next second, the Charger's driver and passenger simultaneously reached out of the car's open windows and grabbed the edge of its roof; pulling themselves out of the car without opening its doors.
Dean beamed, once again nodding his approval as he glanced over at Sam. "Now that's how you get out of a car," he told his little brother wisely; his expression saying the rest.
Sam shook his head; his bitchface making an impromptu appearance at what Dean was suggesting they do. "We are not doing that, Dean."
Dean didn't respond; only continued to smile in that way that told Sam that was exactly what they were doing the next time they got out of the Impala.
Sam shook his head again; already imagining the looks they would get if they really did that; already hearing Bobby call them idjits if the older hunter ever saw them trying to exit the Impala through her windows.
Dean chuckled as he watched his brother – always amused when Sam was in one of his prissy, I'm-not-doing-that diva moods – and then directed his attention back to the two guys who had just gotten out of the Charger.
"Wow..." Dean commented under his breath as he finally got a good look at them – because they both looked like members of the Sam Winchester Hair Club with their ridiculously long, floppy hair.
Dean's gaze flickered between them and his brother. "Friends of yours?" he asked Sam, knowing the kid would recognize the good-natured barb.
Sam scowled, self-consciously brushing his bangs from his eyes. "Shut up, Dean."
Dean chuckled again and then refocused on the Charger's driver and passenger as they approached.
"Nice car," Dean called, inwardly cringing at how lame that sounded; like an overused pick-up line.
The guys paused, glancing at each other; then at Dean; then at Sam; and then finally at the Impala.
There was a beat of silence.
"Yours, too," the dark-haired one replied, his eyes appreciatively crawling over every inch of Dean's Chevy. "Sixty-seven was a good year for the Impala."
Dean nodded his agreement as well as his thanks. "Sixty-nine was a good year for the Charger."
The dark-haired guy returned the nod and then glanced at the blond-haired guy standing beside him, both guys smiling back at Dean as Dean smiled at them.
Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes; feeling like he was witnessing a first date or something – everybody equally impressed with everybody; like there was some instant, deep connection just because they both recognized and appreciated each other's cars.
Dean nodded toward the Charger. "You race him?"
The blond-haired guy shrugged. "Not so much anymore. Mostly just outrun the law."
The dark-haired guy snorted.
Dean chuckled. "I hear that," he agreed; because the Impala had aided him and Sam numerous times in doing the same.
"Name's Bo, by the way..." Bo commented casually, stepping forward and extending his hand to Dean.
"Dean," Dean replied, shaking Bo's hand and then glancing over at Sam. "That's my brother, Sam."
Bo nodded at Sam and then glanced at the dark-haired guy beside him. "My cousin, Luke."
Dean nodded and shook Luke's hand as he extended it; not surprised, but a little disappointed that the guys weren't also brothers.
"Y'all new in town?" Bo asked, his tone open and friendly as he stood across from the Winchesters; his hands on either side of his belt.
Dean shrugged. "You could say that," he allowed. "Just passing through."
"Well, that's too bad," Bo returned. "Could use more people in this town who appreciated badass cars."
Luke nodded his agreement.
There was more silence.
"So..." Luke finally sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y'all comin' or goin' right now?" he asked, indicating the bar.
"Well..." Dean glanced at Sam. "We were actually leaving, but – "
"But we've got a few more hours before we have to meet our uncle," Sam interrupted, holding Dean's gaze and shrugging; seeming indifferent but giving nonverbal support to what he knew Dean wanted. "We could stay for a little while."
Dean smiled at his brother.
"Good," Bo praised and turned to walk toward the bar. "Let's get out of this heat."
Luke nodded and followed his cousin, glancing at Dean and Sam as they fell in step beside them. "Did you say you had an uncle you're meeting up with?"
"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "Our Uncle Bobby."
Luke nodded again. "He an older guy with a beard and wearing a grungy old hat?"
Sam exchanged glances with Dean and smiled. "Yep. Sounds like him."
"You talking about that guy we saw over at the courthouse earlier?" Bo asked his cousin over his shoulder.
"Yeah," Luke answered and then directed his attention back to the Winchesters. "Hard to miss new folks around this town," he further explained. "Plus, he kinda looked like our Uncle Jesse – beard, grungy hat, and all!"
"Small world," Dean mused, glancing at Sam; knowing his brother hadn't felt a connection with these guys over the cars but sensing the kid coming around now that it seemed they also had similar uncles.
Companionable silence settled between the brothers and the cousins as they approached the bar's door and entered.
Dean immediately scanned the tables, nudging Sam when he saw the girl with those short shorts.
Bo noticed the gesture and arched an eyebrow, glancing at Luke and then back at Dean.
Luke smiled. "I see you've met Daisy," he commented casually, winking at Bo.
Sam narrowed his eyes but felt his own lips twitch in a smile, sensing a punch line.
Dean nodded. "Oh, yeah," he agreed distractedly, watching as the girl – Daisy, apparently – finished wiping down one of the tables and turned toward the door.
An expression of surprise and excitement crossed her face at the sight of him, and she offered a quick wave before walking in his direction.
"We've definitely met," Dean further confirmed, already imagining the scene about to take place; hoping these cousins were prepared to take notes on how to interact with women.
Sam watched as Daisy approached; his gaze flickering from her to Bo and Luke; realizing what Dean did not – that she was looking and smiling at them, not at Dean.
Sam quirked a smile. "Do you know her?" he asked the cousins, already suspecting the answer.
Luke nodded. "You could say that," he replied vaguely.
Dean frowned, not liking the way that sounded. "Meaning?" he prompted.
Bo laughed loudly, unable to keep the secret any longer. "Meaning she's our cousin," he revealed and then laughed again as Luke and Sam joined him.
"Cousin?" Dean repeated, glancing back at Daisy and realizing – to his embarrassed horror – that she wasn't looking at him but was looking past him; was smiling at her cousins and not at him, the handsome drifter who had returned just for her.
Sam, Bo, and Luke continued to laugh.
"Don't worry," Luke soothed good-naturedly, patting Dean's shoulder as though they had known each other for years. "We'll put in a good word for you."
Dean scowled, wanting to be pissed but feeling himself begin to smile as well.
Sam's smile widened, leaning over toward his brother. "And I promise not to tell Jo," he teased quietly, receiving a punch in the arm.
"Shut up," Dean growled, irritated with Sam's new favorite hobby of bringing up that other bar chick that obviously did have a crush on Dean.
Sam chuckled, completely unfazed by his big brother's annoyance, and returned the punch to Dean's arm.
Dean cut his eyes at Sam even as he smiled. "Bitch."
Sam grinned, dimples and all. "Jerk," he replied.
And both knew what that exchange meant, even if the cousins standing beside them looked confused.