eve11 | Ficlet one: Out of the Mouths (SPN, Gen)

For

lomer, Supernatural, ~1000 words

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"That's a hell of a car you've got there." Daniels probed the back seat of the Impala with his flashlight, but all he got was a glare off of the interior seats, reflected again off the pitch dark windows on the isolated road. "You don't see many of these that can go anywhere at all, let alone sixty-five in a thirty-five mile zone."

"Yes, sir." The driver squinted up at him through the window, sporting the usual guilty frown of those who knew they'd been tagged but good. He was a big guy-- Daniels would put him at six-four. His brown hair looked disheveled, but there was no alcohol on his breath. The man gave a quick glance at the passenger seat, and then put on a charming, very polished smile, especially for 3am on a Wednesday. "I am sorry about that, officer. I was in a hurry to get the little one here home. I guess I didn't realize how fast I was going."

The guy was pretty young to be a dad, Daniels figured, but the child in the passenger seat said different. Eerie kid, seemed no more than five. Daniels thought he'd slept through the stop, but when he swept the light past he saw the boy was just sitting, very still, staring at him and frowning. He gripped a sack or something in his near hand-- on further inspection Daniels realized it was a dead-eyed burlap doll.

Damn creepy, that's what it was.

"Up late, isn't he," Daniels studied the license again, "Mr. Fogerty?"

"Yeah." Fogerty ran a hand through his hair. "We're coming back from the airport, we had a really long day and it's way past B-E-D-T-I-M-E."

Apparently, the little one could spell, because he took that moment to pound the doll into the seat back. "God, we don't--!"

"Dean!" the driver warned.

The kid thunked his head back against the seat and let out a child-timbred sigh. Fogerty glared at him, and then looked back up at Daniels through the window. "He's... he's real cranky. Please, can you give me a break here? I swear it won't happen again."

Daniels bristled, and made a point of tapping the ticket pad against the window before opening it. "Ask yourself, son," he said, copying down the registration information. "What kind of a role model are you setting for this boy? What would it say to you if I let things slide this once? You've got the most important thing in your life on that seat there, and you're driving like a bat out of hell, like your child's safety means nothing at all."

Fogerty backed off, holding his hands out passively. "No, you're absolutely right, officer," he said, but Daniels could tell he was antsy, because his eyes kept straying to the watch on his wrist. "Just... I'll take the ticket. We'll be on our way, slow and sure."

Daniels filled in the usual fields on the yellow slip, but only got halfway through before the ink in his pen gave out. "You know, I've got children myself," he said, patting down his pockets. "In my line of work you see some terrible things happen because of neglect and recklessness. You wouldn't want to know the half of it--"

"Just write the god damned ticket already."

It was no louder than a murmur, barely audible, catching Daniels off-guard as he'd looked down to search his utility belt. Daniels whipped his head up in time to see Fogerty's eyes riveted on the passenger seat, and to hear a swift "shut up!" spat out between clenched teeth at the child, who was scowling openly now.

Cocky son of a bitch. Some people just shouldn't be parents. Daniels smacked the pad down against the top of the door under the open window.

"Hey! You're lucky I'm just writing you a ticket!" he said. "You know a child that small shouldn't even be in the front seat?"

Fogerty kept his hands in view, giving a strained laugh. "He pitches a fit if I put him in the back. Hell, if his feet reached the pedals I'd have to let him drive."

"That is not funny!" cried the boy, slamming the doll into the seat with enough force to propel him forward.

Daniels blinked. There was something at the small of the kid's back, something with a familiar, if hugely-proportioned, bulge to it.

"What the hell is going on?" he said, pointing his light into the car. "Is that a--?"

He didn't finish the sentence, because the kid leaped across his father's lap and bit him, full force, in the finger.

"Jesus Christ!" Daniels dropped the light, beams caroming wildly in the small space. Someone grazed the horn, which blared out into the dead night as the car was instantly filled with a chaos of voices.

"God! OW!"

"Holy shit, Dean!"

"Sam, we don't have time for this!"

When everything settled again, a vise grip held Daniels' wrists. Fogerty had him pinned to the inside of the door, and his kid was aiming a pristine nine mil right at his face. Damned thing didn't even waver.

"Dean." Fogerty let out a hiss of breath through his teeth. "What did I say about guns?"

"I can't help it, I feel naked!"

"God--"

"Fourteen minutes and counting, Sammy."

In unison, they turned their attention to the window. Daniels tried to protest, but he couldn't string more than a few random sounds together. He was still in shock from being held at gunpoint by a toddler.

"Sorry pal," the kid said. "Got a date with a dead cat and a one-legged pauper's grave on the new moon. And I am not spending another six weeks with a johnson half the size of a green bean."

When Daniels woke up-- groggy and muddled, but alive-- gray dawn was misting through the trees. His squad car was still flashing, muted in the morning gloom, and the Impala was gone.

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(request was: Dean pisses off a witch and is cursed. To Sam's horror, Dean shrinks to a four year old. (Mentally four, or physically four, or both, whatever. *g*) Hijinks ensue!)

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From:

lomer.livejournal.com

Oh my god I love you so much. So. MUCH! Poor cop has no idea what's going on. And I adore the creepy dead eyed doll held by an equally unnerving mini!Dean. No wonder the poor cop was out of his element.

And Dean had a gun! I love that detail so very much. And of course Sam is just trying to tread water. This story is fan-freakin-tastic!

From:

complete, compact and asymptotically normal

Ficlet one: Out of the Mouths (SPN, Gen)

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