FAST TRACK

WOW: Compete. Winning a gold medal is easy; you've just gotta have the right, uh, motivation.

Just had to throw in another Olympic themed drabble before it all ends *sob*

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I don't own any gold medals either.

xxxxx

One hundred metres in three seconds

At least, that's what it felt like.

Dean swayed giddily, gun slipping from his sweaty fingers as he gasped for breath.

Well, suppose it could've been nearer four.

Heart pounding, he doubled over, convinced his lungs were exploding.

Okay, let's say five seconds, just to be sure.

It should be him standing proudly up there in London, blubbering along to the Star Spangled Banner with a gold medal round his neck.

He could easily compete with those fit dudes.

Especially when he'd just had three hundred pounds of mangy, slavering waheela snapping ravenously at his ass.

xxxxx

end