Riding the Fence (A Supernatural FanFic)

Part Two

Dean took a deep cleansing breath, straightened his back and held his head high as he approached the shop on his too-short crutches. He was expecting a tongue lashing from Bobby and was prepared to meet it head on. After all, he’d asked for a minute and had taken more than twenty and that just wasn’t acceptable in Dean’s book.

But Bobby didn’t give Dean a hard time. The boy walked in and was greeted with a genuine, ‘Glad you could join me,’ and handed a clipboard with a few simple tasks printed out on invoices in Bobby’s block style writing.

“Everything you need; parts, tools, all of it is on that wall,” Bobby instructed pointing to the inner wall of the shop. “You get these done, call the owners. Use the shop phone. I’ll be in and out, but you need somethin’, holler. Alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer, probably because he knew he wouldn’t get one. Instead he just cuffed Dean lightly on the shoulder before he turned, leaving the young man to it.

It wasn’t as though this was Dean’s first time in Bobby’s shop. He’d been in there plenty over the years, working on the Impala with his father, but this was official, Dean realized. Bobby was assigning him work and responsibility and was expecting results. It was an attempt at keeping Dean’s hands busy and his mind occupied and he was grateful for the effort; however, a few small-time jobs weren’t going to hold Dean’s attention for long.  Replacing a few sparkplugs and changing out an air filter was old hat for a young man who had worked beside his father since before he’d been able to read.

John - who was meticulous in the care of his ’67 Impala - had instilled the same thorough attention to detail in Dean, teaching his son everything there was to know about cars. He’d also ingrained the notion of taking your aggressions out in your work, which explained why Dean had quickly stripped out the socket in one of Bobby’s wrenches.

Five cars into the day and working on a particularly care-worn Buick, Dean came across a nut that just wouldn’t be loosened. On the fourth crank, the wrench had slipped and Dean, who was standing on one foot, was caught off balance and propelled forward, catching himself on the headers but not before gouging his right arm painfully on a metal hose clamp. Dean clasped his arm, biting back the cry of pain and frustration; the worthless wrench dropping down through the engine compartment, landing useless and forgotten on the dirt floor beneath the car.

He spun around, knocking into his crutches and toppling them over and out of reach, then hobbled over to the workbench and snatched up a rag, dabbing at the blood trailing down his forearm and applying pressure to stem the bleeding. He scanned the workspace for something to cover the wound, finally deciding to make a makeshift bandage out of blue shop paper towels and a roll of black electrical tape.

And this is how Bobby found him, stripped down to his t-shirt, sweating profusely from the early summer heat and the exertion; frustrated beyond belief by the awkwardness of using his left arm to spool black tape around his right arm multiple times and attempting to tear it off with his teeth.  At twenty, Dean was still a skinny kid and without the trademark over shirt to camouflage this fact, Bobby was reminded of how young the boy really was. He stood in the doorway, silently observing, having decided that his interference would not be well received. Until Dean cried out angrily; the bandage having slipped and fallen from the wound for a third time. He whipped the roll of tape across the room where it bounced harmlessly off the side window of the accursed Buick that had started the whole thing. Bobby was in front of Dean so quickly and quietly that it startled the young man into momentary silence.

“Here, let me help,” Bobby offered. The request was gentle, with just a hint of ‘don’t argue with me, boy’. Moving in closer, Bobby took a hold of Dean just above the elbow and directed him carefully backwards onto a stack of car tires and then he began to peel away the paper towels and twisted up, useless tape.