Dad's on a Hunting Trip...
Genre: Canon-verse Drabble?
Summary: Before Dean goes to get Sam at Stanford
The vending machine rattled in response to Deanβs fist, which he pounded against the side in frustration. βCome onβ he said, his eyes fixed on the little yellow bag of peanut butter M&Ms. The metal coils that cradled the candy remained defiantly still. Turning to lean his shoulder against the defective vending machine, Dean fished his cellphone out of his front jean pocket and flipped it open. No messages, no voicemails, no missed calls.
California is about a three-day drive from New Orleans if you didnβt dick around too much or rush like your ass was on fire. It had already been two weeks since dad left to check out that case of missing dudes on that west coast highway, ten days since Dean left him a voicemail that the job they had come here to work on together βthat ended up a solo gig for himβ was done. He should have heard something by now, received an order on where to head next so they could meet up. Maybe he was in trouble. Maybe he was hurt and needed help. Thumb slipping away from the speed dial number he had set to βDadβ, he flipped the phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket. That wasnβt true though, of course. Dad could handle himself; Dean knew that. Heβs the best damn hunter in the world, no question that the man didnβt need his son worrying and calling him every hour like some hysterical chick.
Straightening up, the young hunter shot one last dirty look at the machine that stole his money, just in case it had changed its mind. It hadnβt, so he gave up on second breakfastβthe first having been a leftover taco from the night beforeβ and made his way back to his motel room to watch whatever came on after The Price is Right.
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