That Au where everyone is invited, Tag: EVERYONE

[Dean Winchester]

(Parker wondered how many people would fit into the Impala. The conversation kind of devolved from there.

Challenge:

Parker: We should see how many we can fit into a thread.
Dean: I like this idea.
Parker: I know right. Most pointless thread ever.
Dean: Challenge accepted.)

----


Date: March 2, 2012
City: A big field
State: A really big field.
Synopsis: Dean is fixing up the Impala on the side of the road somewhere. Possibly there are lemonade and cookies.



Dean looked over the engine, wondering why the Impala was telling him she was hurtin'. He checked over everything, the carburetor, the igniter, fanbelt, everything that he could see. Everything looked good, but Dean knew there was something wrong with her somewhere. He was gonna look and feel around her until he found it.

Humming a Metallica song under his breath as he worked, he didn't hear anyone approaching until they made a sound to get his attention. He jumped and banged his head on the hood. Cursing, he rubbed the spot that ached, promptly getting grease in his hair. Well, he didn't much care; he was a grease monkey through and through. He could always enjoy a hot soapy shower later.

Turning to face the person who had startled him, he made a face. "Thanks, I needed a new bump on the head," he complained. He was totally allowed. Someone had startled him, okay. Getting startled always made hunters cranky, and Dean was no exception.

[Jo Harvelle]

((Dean, the words "hot soapy shower" are from now on banned. Jesus.))

"It's not like it hurt anything," Jo shot back, giving Dean a bright grin. She honestly hadn't meant to sneak up on him, but now that she had, she certainly wasn't going to drop it. "Do they take away hunting licenses from people who can't even hear someone like me coming up behind them? Honestly, how do you function?"

Picking up a cookie from the mysterious cookie plate, Jo wandered over to the car. She leaned against it, popping bites of cookie into her mouth as she absently started humming the same Metallica song she had heard Dean humming moments before. Idlely, she looked over the engine. This was one field she admitted defeat on easily, but everything looked normal.

"Soooo. Car doesnt look broke Dean," she remarked, mostly to have someting to say. Another grin appeared on her lips. "Unless...am I interrupting something? Is this, like, your special alone time with the impala? Hope you bought her a drink first."

[Parker Dorian]

((Crack thread is crack.))

"Jo, you know Deanna's too cheap to buy drinks." Parker said from the other side of the car, leaning under the hood next to Dean. "Hey, Princess. Car troubles? Move over."

Hip-checking Dean as hard as she could (which, given her size, was somewhat laughable), she looked around, occasionally tightening a valve here and poking at a hose there. Growing up with a mechanic for a father, Parker Dorian knew her way around a car engine like a pro. Which made it all the more embarrassing when she realized that she had absolutely no idea what was wrong with it.

Not that she was going to tell Dean that. Blaming him would be so much easier.

"Dude, what did you do?" She asked, giving Dean her best you're-a-moron look. "Did you flood the engine again? You're screwed."

She straightened, only to spot the oddly placed card table stacked with cookies and ice cold glasses of lemonade. Huh. That was kind of weird. Still, she walked over and grabbed a cup.

"So, this is... nice." She said absently as she looked around at the field on all sides.

[Bela Talbot]

Her brow quirked, Bela couldn't help but let the smile grow as she watched Dean attempt to fix his car. "Need a tow, Dean?" She knew he'd recall which incident he was referring to. Walking around to glance at the engine, Bela shrugged her shoulder knowing she wouldn't be of any help in repairing the vehicle. It was why she didn't go with classic cars, bloody men and their egos landed them with the pieces of junk that needed to end up in a scrap yard.

Following Parker's gaze, Bela tilted her head to the side in confusion at the table complete with lemonade and cookies. Seeing both Jo and Parker partaking in the provisions, Bela picked up a glass of lemonade and sniffed it before taking a gulp. "It's simply wonderful being stuck in the middle of nowhere with hunters." She was about to make another snark filled comment when the thief heard a bang coming from the back of the Impala. Turning towards Dean she placed a hand on her hip and gave him a look.

"Please do not tell me you locked last nights shag in the trunk to bring along for a round two?" Moving to the back of the broken down piece of crap, she placed her ear to the car and listened, jerking back when the trunk jumped with another bang. Reaching into her pocket, Bela pulled the spare key to the Impala from it and slid it into the lock, listening as it popped open. Taking a step back, Bela let everyone see what Dean had hidden inside.

[Rivera Alcazar]

If there was a way to anger Alcazar, insult her Latina heritage. You wanna make it really stick, make sure she was good and drunk when you did it. That had been over an hour ago and Alcazar was now sedated. Sorta. She was more irrated that she was stuck in the trunk. Her frustration had grown after she had slept it off on the weapons, part of the reason she didn't move too much, but it was growing rather uncomfortable having a shotgun poking one's butthole.

Running a hand through her dark hair, Alcazar rolled her eyes before looking around her. She'd get destructive in a few moments of silent if she couldn't find her cell phone. It would be the only way for her to get out of the damn fucking trunk. Alcazar just needed it to call those in the car and she'd be free. Better then putting a hole in the trunk. She didn't want to repair it for him.

Fumbling for her purse, Alcazar was still for a moment not finding it. “DID YOU LEAVE MY PURSE!” Alcazar shouted to no one but the weapons. “So help me God. My purse is gone, I'm gonna crack some ones head!” She felt the car she was in slowing down and voices. Fuck yes! They had heard her. Well her mama had always taught her to have a big enough mouth and she'd get what she wanted. For her that was no problem.

But no one came to free her. At first it seemed haha funny. But the more everything went on Alcazar wasn't laughing. Hearing a new voice, Alcazar waited for a moment before slamming her fist into the trunk. “Winchester! Let me fucking out of this trunk or I swear to God I'm gonna blast a hole in her!” Alcazar shouted, not even knowing Bela's ear was near by.

“I'm gonna count to five!” She took a deep breath and began "ONE! TWO!" That was when the trunk opened and Alcazar blinked. "About fucking time. Where is he...I'm gonna kill him."

[Jessica Moore]

Well, this was getting vagely annoying. She'd thought Dean was supposed to be good with cars. He seemed to be getting nowhere and no one else seemed to be able to help. Jess leaned against the table of cookies and nudged the plate as if to offer it to everyone. She jumped at the banging from the trunk and looked at Bela as she made her comment.

Jess pushed away from the table to investigate as the trunk was lifted and a woman was revealed to be lying among the weapons. She put on her best "awwww" face and looked up at Dean.

"Congratulations, you two. It's a girl. You must be so proud. What are you going to name her?"

She'd seen and heard the way Dean was about his car, and so it seemed like a natural enough reaction. She moved back around to stand next to him. "If I had a cigar, I'd offer you one. But I don't. Here," she offered, pulling a rather large sugar cookie with pink frosting out of nowhere. "Next best thing. Healthier for you too. Sort of."

[Ben Braeden]

The murmur of voices had gradually been increasing in volume over the course of the past few minutes, almost like they were trying to compensate for the loss of the engine’s purr, the steady hum that had put Ben to sleep a few hours ago. Whining at the noise he pushed the heel of his palm again his right eye, rubbing sleepily and rolling over onto his back, or trying to anyway. Seeing as car seats aren’t all that wide, Ben yelped a moment later as he almost fell off the leather and onto the floor.
Reflexively, Ben grabbed the first thing he could, the back of the driver’s seat. It wasn’t until he’d steadied himself that he noticed that there wasn’t actually a Dean in that seat… and the car wasn’t moving.

Scrunching up his face into a frown, Ben’s eyes travelled around trying to figure out what was going on. He winced as the sunlight stung his eyes but soon enough he got his answer. With the amount of people crowding around the front of the impala and the hood open, it made much more sense why the car was off and there was no Dean inside. More than it had a few seconds ago anyway.
Groaning, Ben pushed himself up, sitting properly before fumbling for the door handle and climbing out of the car. The change of temperature hit him hard and he blinked again, still trying to get a grasp of being conscious. This was something to get him going though, curiosity was peaking while he glanced over curiously at the amount of people that seemed to have come out of no where.

”Did she break?” Wandering up to the front, he glanced at Dean before looking down at the engine like it would give him an answer. He did like cars, but it wasn’t as if he knew a great deal about how they worked or anything. He’d helped Dean before but he’d always been there to point out what needed to be done next and how to do it.
Taking a deep breath, another attempt to wake up, Ben paused and his head turned when the unmistakable smell of cookies wafted right under his nose and instantly those big brown eyes lit up. ”Aw, sweet!” Grinning he lost interest in the situation at hand to reach over and grab a cookie that he instantly started to munch on. Now he was finally awake, and starting to actually glance around at the crowd of people, he knew a couple... some of them peaked his interest though.

[Hank Flynn]

If it hadn't been for a case, he'd never be out on the road. Flask hidden in the glove compartment, the once cop was alone for the most part. There was some kind of song about it really. Life is a high way and he wanted to ride it all night long Well the only thing Hank wanted was his bed. That was it. He didn't care about trying to avoid breaking the speed limit.

Continuing to drive, Hank saw the black spot off in the distance and at first thought it was a simple mirage. After all it wasn't the type of road many people stopped on. He wasn't even sure it was a car until he got closer. Close enough to see that yes it was a car and yes there were people. A lot of people around it.

The private investigator slowed his car and got out. Sunglasses protecting his eyes and the fact that he was hungover from the night before of drink the man looked at the group of people. "How many people does it take to fix a car?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow. Counting them all Hank was surprised. "That many and only a few to fix it."

Eyes falling on Bela as he stood next to her, Hank was admiring the amount of people who had been in the car. "You know it's illegal to drive with this many passengers. Not enough seat belts. Unless you strapped some to the roof." Hank raised an eyebrow. "Which is possible some times...just not wise." Hank added. "I might have a few tools if you need them in my trunk. Looks like your trunk is full too."

[James Francis Henderson]

Across the field from the one with the cookies and lemonade, a lone figure slowly jogged his way toward the broken down Impala and the growing crowd of people surrounding it. Another vehicle approached and stopped while Francy watched. As he came closer, it became more apparent that he was a soldier of some sort, given that he wore camos and his face was darkened with black substance and dirt. He wore some kind of webbed gear and carried a rather futuristic looking gun.

As he drew even more closer, it became more clear there were little light bulbs on his shoulder pads, chest plate, a matching plate on his back, and two more on his thighs. They were not lit. The futuristic gun became clearly made of plastic and had a long, coiled cord attaching it to the chest plate. He looked like a guy who had gotten lost from his method game of laser tag.

He finally crossed the road and made a beeline for the lemonade. He came to a stop and pulled off his sunglasses, looking for permission. Another glass appeared, and it was the exact replica of Francy's favourite Harvelle's Roadhouse glass he had ordered off www.saltnburn.com a few months ago. Shrugging, he picked up the glass, and filled it with lemonade. He offered a silent toast to the group of people into whose midst he had stumbled, and drained the glass. Thirst quenched, he picked up a donut and looked around.

"Huh." he said, accepting and calm. Last thing he knew, he had been test running the Danger Room scenario in the building adjacent to his comic book shop. He liked to come up with new and different adventures with the laser tag, keeping things fresh and exciting. He had a lot of loyal customers he definitely wanted to keep entertained. Possibly, but unlikely, he had stepped into a translocational rift that had transported him from Pasadena to wherever he was now. He hoped it had been translocational. If it had been transdimensional, well, then he would be in a bit of a pickle.

"James Francis." he introduced himself with a small, brief wave.