affectingly (affectingly) wrote in 4tires4walls,

Ficlet: Shotgun Greeting (PG, Sam/Dean, 500 words)

[Shotgun Greeting (PG, Sam/Dean, 500 words)]

The living room is warm, bright with the sun and Dean's smile. Gravel crunches in the drive and both Sam and Dean stand up and go to the window.

It's a car Sam doesn't recognize, all sleek silver and brand new, twinkling in the sunlight and windows tinted too dark to see inside.

"You expecting anyone?"

Dean shifts from foot to foot. "No."

"Me either."

They watch the car for several long minutes, but no one gets out.

"What the hell? Did Christine come for a visit?"

Sam snorts. "Unlikely. Steven King's a hack."

Dean elbows him in the ribs. "You're such a bitch."

Rolling his eyes, Sam sighs. "Yeah, yeah, come on. Let's go find out who the fuck is out there."

Dean nods, picks up one of the shotguns propped up next to the door and Sam does the same. It's been about a month since they officially retired, but that doesn't mean they walk around unprepared. Dean opens the front door and Sam clicks the safety off on his gun.

Aiming at the driver's side of the vehicle, Sam walks out onto the porch, Dean behind him with his own gun slung over his shoulder waiting until he assesses the situation.

"Get out of the car with your hands up," Dean calls out. It would probably be more effective if he weren't laughing.

"What is so funny?" Sam hisses at him as he walks down the front porch steps into the driveway.

"I was just thinking, what if this is just a neighbor come to visit the new guys in town and we're greeting them with shotguns."

"Yeah, that would be, um, awkward." He walks closer to the car and shakes his head. "I don't think it is, though. Look at the plates – Michigan."

"Do we know anyone from Michigan?"

"No, I – wait, yes we do. Gordon."

Dean's gun immediately comes off his shoulder, smile wiped away as he pumps it once and takes aim. "Stay back, Sam. Cover me, and I'll approach."


"Shut up and do what I say."

"Fine." He steps back, moves to stand behind a tree while he watches Dean, his own gun still raised and ready to fire if anything goes wrong. They're prepared to fend off any manner of demon, spirit, or supernatural creature, but humans are a different matter altogether. How the fuck Gordon had found them is a mystery unto itself, but even more troubling to Sam is why he's even bothering.

His throat burns with guilt, and he tries to swallow it back. There is no way in the world Gordon is here because of that. Sam shakes his head and concentrates on the task at hand.

Dean reaches the door, extends his foot and kicks it. "Get out, right the fuck now, or I start shooting up your pretty car, Gordo."

At first, nothing happens, but then Sam sees it. The driver's side window is coming down. There's a pause and then Dean's gun drops. "You?"
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