#tractor trailer mattress

[mymegumi]

03:47 ෆ ITADORI YUUJI

⠀ for: @driaswrld sorry pookie for the emotional dmg (-ω-、)

“yuu,” you grunt, hands flailing out in the darkness as you try to push your lug of a boyfriend away from you, “stars, you need to stop eating so much, you weigh as much as a tractor trailer.”

the response you get is a long snore, followed by the soft smacking of his lips.

normally, you wouldn’t complain about your sweet boy’s body weight or the comforting pressure of his limbs draped over you, but currently, you’re facing a singularly unique experience that no one has ever seen happen before—you need to pee. badly. yuuji has been bulking lately, meaning for dinner you have to make about three servings of food, all for him, and then a fourth serving for yourself (of which he usually finishes off for you if you can’t manage to eat it all).

not to say you dislike watching your boyfriend’s gym experiences, or even that you discourage them, but you’re just annoyed now that he’s gained about 5-10 pounds of muscle mass that you can barely manage to push him off of you.

he’s not a gentle sleeper. in fact, he’s single-handedly the most violent sleeper you’ve ever met and the first time you’d stayed over at his apartment, he scared you awake at least three or five times. now, you’re so used to his sudden spasms and uncontrollable snoring that it hardly phases you, or you can just ignore it and fall asleep again, but the discomfort of needing to pee has taken precedence over anything else.

yuuji is truly lucky you love him more than anything else, right now, because he’s star-fished himself across your queen-sized bed, an arm over your stomach and his legs flung over both of yours while the blanket is tangled between both of your bodies. he is happily snoozing away, blissfully deep in dream world as you continue trying to push him off.

this wouldn’t be an issue, because despite his bulking and the near constant complaint of ‘yuu, you weigh too much for us to wrestle properly because you always win!’, normally, you can at least shove him off enough to scramble out of the tangle of limbs.

tonight is an issue because he’s clingy.

yuuji is a stage-five clinger in his sleep only a third of the time. most of the time you’re free to come and go as you please, but sometimes, on rare occasion, he can psychically know you’re trying to leave the bed and stop you in his sleep. he’ll grab your waist and shove his face in your neck, he’ll snag a wrist and interlace your fingers, and on the one rare time, he’ll somehow hook his foot around your leg and make you fall back onto the bed. it was insane, the lengths he would go to to make you stay in the comfort of your bed—all while miraculously asleep.

so, you’d tried to sneak out of bed to pee and he’d grabbed your hip, forcing you back into bed with the grip of a man desperate to keep you by his side. you’d find it endearing if you weren’t about to pee your pants.

“i love you,” you whisper, turning your head to press your nose into his cheek and trying to burn a hole in his head, “but i’m gonna murder you if you don’t wake up and let me leave.”

“s’love you.” he mutters. he tilts his head towards you and presses a kiss to your nose.

you narrow your eyes. “what’s megumi’s middle name?”

“francis.”

he’s not awake. the poor boy wouldn’t have lied so easily if he was awake, and you are left to flop against the mattress helplessly.

you hate waking him up because he always looks like someone kicked a puppy in front of him and then told the dog it sucked. it just wasn’t nice and he deserved all the nice things in the world. you also hate waking him up because he is somehow such a deep sleeper. you’d have to be screaming your lungs off at an intruder for him to wake up in perfect lucidity.

you’ll have to find another plan to sneaking away from him and going to the bathroom. you wouldn’t give up, but you’d bide your time. eventually he’d have to move away from you and then, that’d be your chance to slip away.

(you end up falling asleep in his embrace and running to the bathroom frantically when the sun rises.)

[detectivebambam]

things I've seen in America since living here my whole life that I feel are strictly American things

parking old semi trucks in fields and hanging banners up on the side as advertisement

yellow school busses ?

frat parties

beer pong

discount stores like Ross and Marshalls ?? not thrift stores, actual discount stores

thrift stores come to think of it

Malls ?

boys throwing balls at each other in the middle of class

motorcycles ??? idk I've never been outside of America guys

having to stop your car to let cattle cross the street

deer crossing signs

"share the road" signs with the silhouette of the man on the ATV

tailgate parties

the white unfoldable tables

coolers. like the boxes you put drinks in

motorhomes ??

tadpole hunting. yknow when you and your friends walk barefoot and shirtless down to the creek with your green plastic net thingy. and catch tadapoles. i can't see a European doing that

Mattress stores.

riding your horse to and from school

riding your tractor to and from school

riding your four wheeler/ATV to and from school

trailer parks

7/11 especially slushies. US of A i feel is the only place you can get slushies

I've heard s'mores and PB and J is strictly an American thing

having two safes in the house, one for confidentials and one for guns

having two fridges, one inside as a regular fridge, and a cheaper one outside for drinks and party food storage

eggnog ?

actually just four wheelers in general. especially learning how to ride one when you're like 4 years old

Mason Jars, specifically using Mason Jars to drink out of

shelves and shelves of canned/pickled food in the pantry/garage

hunting trophies on the wall?? yk like deer mounts

^ hanging Christmas ornaments on the antlers of the elk trophy

gun ranges? the little warehouse looking things in the old fields where you can practice shooting??

Hunter's Safety Classes that everyone takes when they're ten or younger. with the vending machine where you can get cookies

for reference my family has been US. based for hundreds of years, I have never been outside the US, so this could be completely wrong but these are my thoughts

[mitchipedia]

The Sorta Kinda Life Changing Bliss of Walking Solo. By Craig Mod.

Folks seem scared of solitude but solitude is a superpower when used well. Alone, in your basement, it breeds anomie, but out in the world, moving through the world, step after step, clear goal in mind, I’d argue that a solo walk during which you are engaged — paying attention, with your phone turned off, no headphones, no podcasts, no escape routes — is the quickest way to elevate a human. Basement solitude — isolated without serendipity, static, stagnant, stuck with your face in a screen, manipulated by the algorithms — is the death of the soul. The solo walk outdoors, in the air, beneath the sun, the rain, the snow, bumping into drunken horse betters, kind gardeners, farmers covered in blood, women beating mattresses at dusk, tractor trailer drivers leaning against their cabs for a smoke, is the opposite, the antipode, the physical palinode to basement solitude and the death of the mind and body.

I walk the dog more than three miles nearly every day, and that counts as walking alone. But I’m almost always listening to podcasts.

I sorta kinda remember who the author, Craig Mod, is—I think he’s a travel writer, currently living in Japan, and from this essay I gather his daily walks are part of his work. He seems to photograph and video the things and people he sees, and interviews the people, publishes the results on the web, some by subscription only, and sells it in books. Very different from my life (though it sounds appealing). He walks 12-45 km per day (that’s about 7.5-30 miles), carrying 12 kilos of photo and video equipment (26 pounds.

The walk, he says, is his work platform, the way the computer and Internet are mine.

[wabashmfginc]

Purchase Wholesale Truck Washing Pump High Pressure To Deep Clean Any Floor

It principally implies that each time you employ your brakes, pressure drops and when it is low sufficient the truck will not transfer. After a quantity of seconds you'll discover the gauge climbing above purple pressure truck and you may be good to go. Typically, industrial truck-bus tires are usually Load Range F-L. Ply rating is an older terminology used to characterize the tire’s load carrying capacity.

Allow us to help put your concerns to mattress by serving to you file an harm declare. "Tires are porous," explained Daniel Mustafa, director of technical service at Travel Centers of America. "Just as we sweat through our pores, a tire loses a small quantity of air right via the rubber that makes up the tire." Pressure or pumping trucks are a part of the daily used on an Oil & Gas well site. We can provide the stock trucks when you want the trucks urgently. The front excessive pressure cleaning system consists of three cleansing racks, can kind a whole cleaning plane.

If the tires are not accurately inflated, they will put on a lot faster and must be replaced. The cost of tires could presumably be fairly substantial and pointless pressure truck put on will scale back the lifetime of the tires and improve the cost accordingly. “The maximum load capacity is only that if the tire is inflated to its most air pressure.

Some automotive models even place the stickers on the trunk lid, in the console or on the fuel door. For best outcomes, search for a placard on the inside of the driver’s door, like the example in the picture under. If you had been to pour oil on an inclined floor, it will flow downhill due to the pressure of gravity.

As a outcome, even when the vehicle bears an amazing weight, it is unfold to a number of tyres with smaller weight, avoiding a flat tyre. Heavy vans like hearth engines, buses, tractor-trailers, tankers, U-Hauls, flatbeds, and cement mixers are designed to take care of heavier workloads. Their tires are additionally pressure truck specialised to deal with rough terrain. These vans are often used for building and delivery, and can travel lengthy distances. Souza's Tire Service is a pillar of the Auburn CA community.

Few things are more essential to the security of your loved ones and your truck than your tires. The bother is, there is plenty of misinformation and complacency out there. Few individuals actually know the right tire pressures required and even fewer folks verify them on a daily basis.

[virginlomo]

Front load garbage truck

#Front load garbage truck drivers

#Front load garbage truck driver

#Front load garbage truck manual

Premier has the largest in-stock selection of automated front end loaders available now. If workers are able lift them into the container, the truck will take care of the rest.Įfficiency: Their efficiency comes from the speed at each stop since the arm does not have to dump in the body at each house - it instead can dump several totes into the Curotto-Can once the Curotto-Can is full, it then dumps into the body. Some municipalities may prefer touchless pickup while others may offer to pick up furniture or old mattresses that cannot fit into a tote. This means fewer injuries and off-job time for overburdened employees.īulk pickup: Anything that can fit into the front container can fit into the truck. Less strain on workers: Workers are not required to physically load totes or trash into automated front end loaders and most of the work is done with robotic arms. Drivers can see what’s going into the truck and be alerted of immediate issues, unlike with a rear or side loader. Increased safety: With an automated front loader, everything, including the arm and can, is right out in front of the driver’s line of vision. The automated arm is there every day ready to work! In a labor shortage or economic downturn, companies with automated front loaders don’t need to worry about hiring more than one person per route.

#Front load garbage truck manual

There are several benefits to using an automated front loader, including:ĭecreased need for manual labor: Residential waste has been picked up for many years using a rear loader, which takes a minimum of two people to operate. As employees wanted to protect their workers from handling waste, they began searching for automated, touchless pickup options. Residential front end loaders have been steadily growing in popularity over the years, but they really found their footing following the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. Why should I use a residential front loader? Some companies have been using them for years while others are just catching on to this super efficient residential waste management tool. Residential front loaders are also called “RESIs,” trash grabbers or automated garbage trucks.

#Front load garbage truck driver

The cab in a residential front end loader has two steering wheels, but only one driver is required to operate. An arm on the container extends to pick up each tote, dump it into the front container, which is then raised and dumped into the hopper behind the truck cab. They pick up residential trash in standard sized totes. Newer equipment with in-house shop that keeps it well maintainedResidential front end loaders are garbage trucks that combine the arm technology of a side loader with the efficiency and might of a front loader.

#Front load garbage truck drivers

We have openings for Class A CDL Regional, Full and Part-Time drivers.ġ2 months tractor trailer experience neededĪverage income of drivers is $68,000-$90,000 per year We do not haul any hazardous loads or any that require placards. We also haul cocoa butter, cream, chocolate, and water treatment products. Soybean Oil accounts for eighty to ninety percent of what we haul. Joseph, MO, is one of the trucking industry s leaders in liquid food bulk transportation. $7,500 SIGN ON BONUS & PAY INCREASE ON MULTIPLE LANES! EARN $68K-$90K YEARLY!Įxcellent opportunity for CDL A Truck Drivers on Multiple runs delivering food grade liquids between Missouri to Arkansas! CDL CLASS A REGIONAL TRUCK DRIVERS - $7500 SIGN ON

[buttonmains]

Price of new frifght liner cascadea evolution

#Price of new frifght liner cascadea evolution driver

#Price of new frifght liner cascadea evolution upgrade

View Mattress Size Guide Why Sleep on a SleepDog Mattress in Your Freightliner Cascadia? If you have questions about which mattress is the best fit for your semi-truck sleeper, a SleepDog Mattress sales representative would be happy to assist you. Two replacement options include the Bigdawg Mattress ™ and SleepDog, A Trucker’s Best Friend ™ which are made to give you the best rest possible on the road. We want to make sure that you get the right fit for your sleeper trailer. SleepDog Mattress makes it easy to get the right size mattress for your sleeper, whether it is for a top or bottom bunk because each of our mattress lines are offered in multiple sizes. If your truck can come equipped with multiple bunks, like the Cascadia can, then you should measure before buying a replacement mattress to ensure a good fit. The OEM mattress in Freightliner Cascadia is a 36-inch by 80-inch mattress, which is a common size for truck mattresses. Shop Semi Truck Mattresses The Mattress that comes with the Freightliner Cascadia SleepDog mattresses come in standard sizes, so you can be sure to find an exact size replacement for the stock Cascadia mattress, while also getting a more comfortable and reliable sleeper mattress.

#Price of new frifght liner cascadea evolution upgrade

SleepDog offers a variety of quality aftermarket mattresses which upgrade the comfort and support of the bunk in your sleeper cabin with better supporting memory foam, cooler material, and thicker, more comfortable padding. While stock mattresses from the manufacturer can get the job done for a while, they are prone to some typical wear points and might not have the comfort you are looking for on those long hauls. On the Freightliner Cascadia website, you can actually build your own customized cabin using a selection of features to find the right combination of comfortable amenities.Īs with any tractor trailer sleeper, Cascadia or otherwise, you may want to consider replacing the OEM mattress with an upgrade.

#Price of new frifght liner cascadea evolution driver

Much of the interior of the Cascadia was designed with driver relaxation and downtime in mind. The Cascadia also comes with a choice of high-top interiors, offering enough space for overhead storage or even a second bunk. In terms of rest and relaxation, the Freightliner Cascadia has a lot to offer, including sleeper cabins that can extend up to six feet beyond the day cab. The Freightliner Cascadia has a well-earned reputation as a flagship tractor trailer, so it is no wonder it remains as one of the most popular tractor trailers. All of these features were greatly improved over older Freightliner models. Freightliner’s design took fuel efficiency into greater consideration, as well as several other features including powertrain offerings, sound dampening, safety systems, and overall mechanical reliability. The Cascadia has several standard features that make it a popular semi-truck. Out of all the popular sleeper tractor trailers on the road today, the Freightliner Cascadia tends to be a favorite among truck drivers. What size mattress fits in a Freightliner Cascadia?

[sleepdogblog]

If you enjoy traveling, driving over-the-road in a semi-truck can be an ideal life. But without the right equipment, there may be times it’s not as comfortable as you would like. When you spend most of your time on the road, nothing is as important as making sure that your rest and relaxation time is comfortable. Thankfully, there are several ways to make your experience on the open road more enjoyable and relaxing.

[sleepysera]

6.28.22 Headlines

WORLD NEWS

Colombia: Prison riot sparks deadly fire (BBC)

“A fire during a prison riot in south-west Colombia has killed 49 inmates and injured at least 30 other people, including prison warders. The national prison authority said the fire in Tuluá, in Valle del Cauca, was started by prisoners in the early hours of Tuesday morning. According to officials, the inmates set fire to mattresses in a bid to stop guards breaking up the riot. They say the blaze has now been controlled, and no prisoners escaped.”

Mexico: Networks ramp up help for US women seeking abortions (AP)

“Abortion pills smuggled into the United States from Mexico inside teddy bears. A New York home used as a pill distribution hub. A small apartment just south of the U.S.-Mexico border converted into a safe place for women to end their pregnancies. Networks of Mexican feminist collectives working with counterparts in the United States are ramping up their efforts to help women in the U.S. who are losing access to abortion services to end their pregnancies.”

Ukraine: Macron says Russia can’t win after strike on mall (AP)

“France’s president denounced Russia’s fiery airstrike on a crowded shopping mall in Ukraine as a “new war crime” Tuesday and vowed the West’s support for Kyiv would not waver, saying Moscow “cannot and should not win” the war. The strike, which killed at least 18 people in the central city of Kremenchuk, came as leaders from the Group of Seven nations met in Europe.”

US NEWS

Immigration: 50 migrants die after trailer abandoned in San Antonio heat (AP)

“Fifty people died after being abandoned in a tractor-trailer without air conditioning in the sweltering Texas heat, one of the worst tragedies to claim the lives of migrants smuggled across the border from Mexico. More than a dozen people — their bodies hot to the touch — were taken to hospitals, including four children.”

Abortion: Ban takes effect in Tennessee, paused in Texas (AP)

“A federal court Tuesday allowed Tennessee to ban abortions as early as six weeks into pregnancy, while a Texas judge temporarily blocked enforcement of that state’s ban on virtually all abortions, in a flurry of activity set off at courthouses across the U.S. by the overturning of Roe v. Wade. Statewide bans or other restrictions that were either left on the books for generations, tied up by legal challenges or specifically designed to take effect if Roe were to fall are now in play as a result of last week’s Supreme Court ruling eliminating the constitutional right to terminate a pregnancy. Roughly half the states are expected to prohibit or severely limit abortion now that the high court has left it up to them.”

Flint: Court kills Flint water charges against ex-governor, others (AP)

“Charges against former Gov. Rick Snyder and others in the Flint water scandal must be dismissed after the Michigan Supreme Court said Tuesday that a judge had no power to issue indictments under a century-old, rarely used law. It’s an astonishing defeat for Attorney General Dana Nessel, who took office in 2019, got rid of a special prosecutor and put together a new team to investigate whether crimes were committed when lead contaminated Flint’s water system in 2014-15.”

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.12 SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st 12:40 PM

Warren County, Illinois

Officer Swain pulled the hood of his rain slicker over his head and resumed motioning the tow-truck toward him. The rain had not returned thankfully, but the temperature continued to drop and Swain could feel the thin skin on his ears growing frigid. Yesterday felt like summer, now it's 'Hello Fall'. He thought.

Larry Danielson backed his tow-truck, containing the charred and twisted remains of an ambulance into the tight spot that Swain had designated for it. This was the same ill-fated ambulance that had met a fiery end with the trailer of Gabriel Couture's semi. For the time being it would rest silently between the blood stained remains of an orange Ford Mustang that had once belonged to Brad Doyle and an equally blood-stained carcass of Booger McFarlane's white truck.

Larry D., as the townsfolk called him, hopped from the cab, grabbed the levers of the wench, and began rocking the hulk of the wreck off the rollback and toward the weedy ground littered with bits of rubber, glass, and plastic. Swain looked around. He had never seen the police salvage lot look so full.

Larry D whistled. “Man I ain't worked this hard since Brackett sent me to go work that big pile up on I-90, remember that?”

Swain wasn't really listening, he pointed to a strip of gravel at the far end of the lot near two large green dumpsters. “You think there's enough room for that tractor trailer?”

Larry D spit a muddy brown wad of chewing tobacco on the ground and nodded, “Probably,” he said, “then it's 'all she wrote' right?”

Swain rubbed his forehead, “Well, that Agent McGrath says we need to impound all the cars that belonged to victims whether they were involved in the crime scenes or not. But Meeker said we can just use the High School parking lot for sure.”

Larry D spit again, “Well, all I know is I gotta get some lunch after we tow the tractor trailer back here.”

“Fair enough,” Swain said and sat down in his cruiser and shut the door. Larry D turned toward his tow-truck and, as he did, nearly ran into a woman.

“Whoa!” Larry said, rocking back on his heels.

The woman gave a small startled scream. She was short, Asian, and very attractive, with long black hair but cute little bangs to frame her round face. Her dark slanted eyes glistened as she smiled. “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

“That's okay ma'am. Can I help you with something?” Larry asked, adjusting his belt.

“Yes,” the woman pulled a small wallet out of her gray pantsuit and displayed a laminated badge. “I'm Samantha Nguyen of the Federal Bureau of Investigation office in Champagne. I spoke to Deputy---Miller?”

“Meeker?” Larry glanced at the badge with a smile and looked up and passed Sam, waving to Officer Swain as he pulled his police cruiser out of the gravel lot.

“Meeker, that's right,” Nguyen replaced the wallet in her pocket, “he told me I could find you here, you are Larry D correct?”

“In the flesh,” Larry replied and offered his hand.

She shook it with a smile, “Oh good. I'm in the right place.”

“Yes ma'am. What can I help you with.”

This time she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her other pocket, “I'm looking for a trailer that was towed here yesterday morning, around six-ish?”

“The one we pulled from the truck stop? The one that belonged to that guy who got...you know.” Larry trailed off.

“Yep. Star Transport trailer with Nebraska plates, tag number UVB760” She nodded.

“Walk this way,” Larry said.

They began walking toward the far end of the lot, passing Brad Doyle's mustang and a yellow and black Taxi cab with LITTLE EGYPT CABBIE CO painted on the side with a nice drawing of a Sphinx. CALL 999-9999, FIRST MILE FREE.

“What do you want with the trailer?” Larry asked.

“We're gonna pop it open.” Nguyen remarked.

Larry stopped, “You gotta have a warrant to pop the seal on a commerical trailer.”

She handed him the paper, “Right here.”

“And you spoke to the distributor...whatever you said... Star Transport?”

“Yes sir.”

They arrived at the rear of the trailer. Nguyen pulled out her cellphone and snapped a picture of the tag and then another of the unbroken seal. She put her finger through the blue plastic loop and then cut a glance back at Larry. Larry had been admiring the young woman's figure as her back was turned and now abruptly adverted his eyes. She pretended not to notice.

“Got a knife?” She asked.

Larry pulled a pocket knife from his dirty Wranglers and flicked it open. Nguyen stepped aside for a moment and Larry D slit the little plastic band in one neat surgical swipe. Larry folded his knife and replaced it in his pocket and then popped the handle of the trailer up with the palm of his hand and pulled open the door.

The first thing that hit them was the smell.

Shit and vomit...maybe a little sweat.

There were two rickety looking benches, one on each side of the trailer running the length of it's walls. Upon these benches, fifteen to each side, was an assortment of female human beings. Some looked to be as old as fifty, some maybe as young as twelve. Sweat glistened on their skin, their eyes were tired, their faces haggard, their clothes stained with sweat and dirty. They all simultaneously squinted as the light of day hit their faces and then, as their eyes adjusted, they looked at Larry D and Nguyen with empty expressions. Most looked of hispanic descent, there was one black woman who looked about thirty years old, and two young Asain girls, no more than seventeen.

Down the center of the trailer, between the benches were two rows of air mattresses with some assorted blankets and pillows. Between the mattresses were six or seven large white buckets, the kind that commercial painters use for paint. Flies buzzed around these buckets and Larry knew immediately this was the source of the smell. These ladies had been forced to use these buckets as a toilet during their ordeal in the back of this trailer. Littered among these items were rolls of cheap toilet paper and plastic gallon jugs of drinking water. Most were empty.

“Holy shit,” Larry breathed.

Nguyen snapped a picture.

NEXT>>

[aleidawrites]

Baby Animals Are Romantic

A gift for @semicolonsandsimiles who gave me the prompt “post-canon/established relationship” for the @pynchpromptweek​ Pynch Secret Santa 2020. Have some of Ronan and Adam being soft and going on dates with each other!

Title: Baby Animals Are Romantic

Word Count: 3301

Summary: Adam had never been to the county fair before, so when Ronan suggests they go he figures this is a farming thing. But Adam's eager to spend time with his boyfriend, even if he also has to listen to an auctioneer trying to sell steers. Or, in which Ronan just wants to take his oblivious boyfriend on a date and maybe hold hands on the Ferris wheel.

Read on AO3

Ronan approached him a couple of weeks after they had finally discussed the dream-goop. It felt like they had progressed to a new stage of their relationship, with Ronan dedicated to his dreaming again and Adam figuring out what school was going to look like. Adam was bent over one of his many lists (this one a bulleted list of all the work study opportunities on campus) when Ronan rested his shoulder on the door jam to the study where Adam had taken up residence. 

He liked the large wooden desk.

“You know, the fair’s coming up,” Ronan muttered.

“The what?”

Adam looked up from his list — the best chance for steady hours was working in the campus cafeteria but the assignment at the library would let him do surreptitious homework on the job more often — and frowned at Ronan. He could remember a school fair in elementary, but Ronan wouldn’t have those same memories. 

“Wait, the county fair?” Adam laid his pen down carefully on the desk and leaned back. 

The county fair took place every August at the fairground, which was just another field north of Singers Falls. Aglionby never paid much attention to the county fair, with the ruckus of the Fourth of July always outshining anything else that happened during the summer up until last year. Adam vaguely remembered some of his classmates in elementary school talking about their 4H projects or art submissions with markers and crayons.

“I’ve never been to the fair,” Adam said slowly. Ronan stood up straighter, pushing himself off the door. “What’s even there?”

“Y’know, competitions and shit, who can grow the biggest pumpkin, who’s got the best pig.” Ronan slumped fully into the room to lean against Adam’s desk, like standing straight was a hassle for him. “There’s rides they set up for kids, like those tiny airplanes that you get in and spin around.”

Adam didn’t say that he had never been in those rides as a kid. He knew Ronan wasn’t bringing that up to remind Adam of what he hadn’t had. They just had different perspectives of what kids had. Adam had a mattress on the floor of the double-wide, and Ronan had a dad who created magical things from dreams.

“And the auctioneer will come by to sell off livestock and shit,” Ronan said, speaking faster. “Steers and stuff for farmers. Sometimes there’s baby animals from the stock.”

Oh, so that was a thing. Adam leaned his elbows on the desk so that he could be closer to Ronan’s downturned face.

“You wanna go?”

Ronan’s shoulders slumped so fast that Adam barely noticed how high they had been before. But Ronan’s face relaxed at the same time, and that was more fun for Adam to watch.

“Shit, Parrish, don’t act like you're doing me a favor or anything,” Ronan drawled.

Adam rolled his eyes. For everything that had happened over the summer, Ronan was still shit at asking for what he wanted. He could’ve just asked Adam to go with him to the county fair auction.

“Fine.” Adam hid his smile in his shoulder and picked up his pen again. “When’s the auction?”

“Friday afternoon,” said Ronan. “You just have the factory shift on Friday, right? You’re free after that.”

Ronan asked like he didn’t have Adam’s whole work schedule memorized. Adam looked up and didn’t bother concealing his smile at Ronan.

“Yep.”

To Adam’s delight, the tips of Ronan’s ears turned pink as he nodded as if nothing was unusual about that.

“Good.” Ronan turned on his heel and marched back out the door. “Hey, brat, what’re you doing with that?”

Adam left Ronan to manage Opal on his own, but he was still smiling when he hunched back over his lists.

…

They left Opal with the Fox Way ladies on Friday, something Opal herself had mixed feelings about, but she seemed happy enough with all the various herbs the women let her chew on. Ronan drove the two of them back through Singers Falls and up to the fairgrounds.

Adam had only ever seen it when it was an empty field, mostly mowed down grass with patches of dirt or mud, depending on the season. Ronan kept vibrating in the driver’s seat, shifting so aggressively that Adam wondered if he should’ve offered to go “driving” with him before going to the fair. Or instead of it.

When they finally got to the fair, just after lunch, the field was already half full of cars on one side of the skinny two-lane road. The field on the other side of the road was full of white tents and footpaths around the various attractions. Rows of red and yellow and green tractors stretched out from one side of the fair into the empty trimmed field. True to what Ronan had said, there were a few carnival rides for kids, including a full sized Ferris wheel near the center of the fair.

“There’s a lot of people here,” Adam noted as they parked and got out of the Beemer. Lots of people was typically not Ronan’s jam.

“Don’t be a wuss, Parrish,” Ronan said. He hurried around the car to stand close to Adam’s side. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed at Adam’s hand and jerked him towards the road. Adam went. It was hard not to follow Ronan Lynch when he was this much like Ronan Lynch, a black T-shirt covering his shoulders while the wicked curves of his tattoo peeked out at the base of his neck.

For a minute as they crossed the road, Adam wondered if he should be more careful, if he should take his hand away from Ronan’s. His parents weren’t generally fair-goers, so he didn’t expect to see them or anyone else from the trailer park here, but farmers were their own kind of people. What would they think about two boys holding hands as they ran to the admission booth? But as soon as they pulled up to the ticket window where a gray-haired lady with a straw hat sat taking money, Ronan let go of Adam’s hand to dig in his pocket.

“I could’ve got that,” Adam protested, mostly because he could.

“So, you can buy us lunch,” said Ronan as he folded his wallet and shoved it back into his jeans.

The lady gave a string of pink paper tickets to Ronan, who tore it in half and gave one half to Adam. He took them and frowned at them. They looked like raffle tickets, but Adam wasn’t sure what purpose they served here.

“C’mon,” Ronan said and walked through the gates.

Inside the fairgrounds were full of lines of people grouped and moving like pods of fish. The packed squadrons of bodies all moved the same way, like rush hour traffic with bodies instead of cars. Ignoring everyone, Ronan pulled Adam to a stop in front of a fork in the dirt path and tilted his chin up towards the open sky.

“The games are that way.” Ronan pointed to the right.

Adam saw the pointed tops of colorful booths painted in reds and oranges and mechanical spires that — sure enough — propelled tiny metal airplanes up with kids strapped in and screaming in delight.

“I wanna know if they have the stupid carnival shooting games,” said Ronan. Adam rolled his eyes, but Ronan’s eyes went yet another direction. “There’s the Ferris wheel.”

Adam followed Ronan’s finger to the large white and purple wheel at the other side of the fairgrounds, straight ahead of where they were.

“Yeah, looks kinda cheesy.” Adam had only seen those kinds of things in movies. But it wasn’t what Ronan was here for, and in lieu of a responsible farmer, Adam supposed he could nudge Ronan towards the actual prize. “Where’s the animals? You said there would be babies.”

A frown darted quickly across Ronan’s face as he turned to Adam, but then he softened into something private, something reserved for Adam and the Barns. It was the kind of look that made Adam think they could survive a few years of long-distance, as long as Ronan always looked at him like that when he came home.

“Yeah, sure, Parrish, let’s go look at the babies,” said Ronan.

Slipping his shoulder behind Adam’s back, Ronan nudged Adam forward and down the left-hand path. They navigated around the people walking the opposite direction, and Adam felt Ronan’s hand pressing against his back, just below his shoulder blades where Ronan’s body blocked anyone looking closely at the two boys. Adam’s skin felt hot under his T-shirt.

They walked together to a long barn with a shiny metal roof, and Ronan shifted to take the lead up the incline to the end of the barn where the main doors were standing wide open. Adam recognized the smell immediately: hay and warm bodies and corn. But this was different from the Barns in a way that Adam could only attribute to the dream quality of Ronan’s home. Even once everything was awake again, there was a sense of peace over the whole thing, a wildness that the cows, the deer, Opal, and Ronan himself all were a part of.

But Ronan looked happy enough to be in his natural environment. The thought of teasing Ronan that he belonged in a barn made Adam’s mouth quirk up. Ronan grabbed his hand before he could say anything and pulled Adam towards one side of the barn.

“Look,” Ronan pointed into the pen.

People were pressed up against the wood of the pen, but Ronan just elbowed a man out of the way and ignored the glare that he received in turn. Adam scoffed but walked up beside Ronan and looked inside the wooden pen. Two lambs sat in the pen next to the back wall while a third lamb walked around on spindly legs, jerking its way back and forth from the many outstretched hands of the people crowding the pen then darting back to the safety of the other lambs away from people.

Adam rested his elbows on the top of the pen and watched the lamb dance back and forth adventurously, nipping at the outstretched fingers of a kid who had climbed up the rungs of the pen and then hopping back out of reach of all the adult hands that stretched out to pet the animal. Beside him, Ronan sighed and leaned down over the closed pen, nearly folding himself in half. He let his hand dangle loosely near the fluffy bedding lining the pen and ignored the rest of the people clamoring to see the baby lamb and entice them closer. Adam watched as one of the lambs from the back of the pen got up on its own shaky legs and nosed its way closer. Ronan wiggled his fingers and let the lamb approach him and sniff cautiously.

Adam leaned harder onto Ronan and watched the lamb lick at Ronan’s fingers, wary but eager for something that Ronan had. Adam could sympathize.

Ronan glanced up.

“Wanna pet him?” he asked softly, his voice toned down from his usual boisterous shredding of the English language.

Adam scooted closer to Ronan and leaned down with him, letting his fingers dangle just like Ronan had instead of thrusting his hand out in beckoning motions like the rest of the people. The lamb moved from sniffing Ronan’s fingers to seeking out Adam’s. It’s tongue tickled the tips of his fingers, and Adam stretched his hand out a little further and gently patted the top of the lamb’s head. He turned to see Ronan grinning at him.

“C’mon,” said Ronan. “I bet there are some calves they got further down.”

…

They passed through the other end of the livestock barn, where Ronan had stopped by pretty much every pen to see the baby animals and try to entice each one closer. Every time he had gotten an animal to come close to him, he offered petting privileges to Adam, which he appreciated. But Adam liked seeing Ronan’s unique magic with barns and baby animals even more than touching them himself. For all his dangerous appearance, Ronan was most at home being soft around animals.

After the barn, Ronan dragged Adam — fairly willingly but still — down the continuing path that looped back around to the carnival games that were all grouped together, next to the mechanical toy rides. Adam beat Ronan in a game of “shoot the water gun at the target,” which won him both an oversized red foam cowboy hat and a heated look from Ronan. It was only when Ronan had a bizarrely large stuffed giraffe under his arm that Adam thought he might be missing something.

“We should get food,” Ronan said. “You’re buying, right?”

Adam glanced down at the beaten watch on his wrist, still able to tell him when he was about to be late for a shift.

“What about the auction?”

Ronan frowned at him.

“Why would you wanna see an auction?” he demanded. “It’s just a bunch of people yelling about cows.”

“You yell about cows on a regular basis, Lynch.” Adam rolled his eyes. Ronan was probably just protesting too much and didn’t want to go to something that he was being forced to.

“Those’re my cows, though,” Ronan said into Adam’s good ear. “Special breed.”

Adam felt his cheeks flush and tried to brush the blush away with the back of his hand.

“Let’s do whatever you want,” he tried. “Where d’you want to go?”

Ronan stopped in between a booth with a ring toss and the back of a food cart that smelled like hot oil and sugar.

“I brought you to have fun, Parrish,” he said. “Are you that much of a workaholic? We talked about this.”

Adam bristled. He breathed in deeply, almost matching Ronan’s smoker-inhale, and told himself to be calm.

“Excuse me for trying to make sure you get what you need outa this,” he muttered lowly.

“Excuse you?!” Ronan’s eyebrows flew up.

Adam grimaced. The words had slipped out. Fighting with Ronan was still a charged activity for the both of them. Adam was still getting used to softness, from both himself and from Ronan Lynch.

“Look, I’m trying to be considerate of you here,” Adam explained very calmly.

“Well, don’t feel like you have to spare my fucking feelings!” Ronan bit out.

Adam threw his hands into the air, funny cowboy hat and all.

“You wanted to come!”

“I wanted to go on a date with you!” snapped Ronan.

Adam blinked his way out of his sudden anger and felt his stomach sink in its absence. Ronan looked suddenly sheepish and angry that he was sheepish. His jaw ticked like he was clenching his teeth, like he was trying to hold his words back from where they could do the most damage to Adam.

“I can do better than just driving in cars,” Ronan said. “This was gonna be fun. Way to ruin the day.”

Adam’s stomach turned to lead. He hated the idea that this was all ruined because of him. Part of his mind argued that going to the county fair was a weird idea for a date, but he recognized the defensive part of himself, the part that constantly looked for ways that he could get hurt so that he knew where to protect himself.

But the larger part of him saw Ronan’s jaw clench the same way it did when he was trying not to let his lip tremble, trying not to show how much he felt.

Adam thrust his red cowboy hat into Ronan’s hands and shoved him towards a wooden table in front of the food truck.

“Wait there,” he ordered. “I’ll get us lunch.” Ronan glowered at him unconvincingly. “Just wait there—” Adam just needed a couple of minutes to get his brain in order. “—I’ll be back.”

He marched off, trying to see what looked like actual food in this place.

…

Adam returned with a paper plate damp with grease and soaked in powdered sugar. Ronan was still sitting at the wooden picnic table, his head resting on his folded arms on the table. Adam slid the fried pile of dough toward Ronan and sat next to him. Sitting across would be too far away.

“I bought a funnel cake,” he said.

Ronan lifted his head and stared at the deep fried treat. It wasn’t real food, but Adam had thought it smelled good and was the kind of thing Ronan would enjoy stuffing his face with.

“I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I didn’t know this was supposed to be a date. I thought you were just looking for more animals for the farm.”

Ronan snuffled into his bare elbow and then rested his chin on his arms.

“You’re a real romantic, Parrish.”

Adam bent his head and leaned into Ronan’s shoulder so that he could hide the small smile that threatened his mouth. Ronan was at least willing to forgive him, which made the shameful tightness in his belly abate a little.

“You like baby animals, though.” Adam pressed his head against Ronan’s stubbled skull. “I knew you wanted to come here.”

Ronan shifted beneath him like he wanted to sit up straighter but didn’t want to actually lose Adam’s touch.

“So, you didn’t wanna come?”

“I didn’t say that,” Adam said quickly. He drew his head back so that he could wrap his arm around Ronan’s waist cautiously, still aware that they were surrounded by people who had probably grown up like Adam’s parents. “I liked seeing you with the lamb. That was cute.”

Ronan’s ears turned bright pink, and he turned to hide most of his face against Adam’s neck.

“Shuddup.”

Adam grinned.

“I’m just saying.” He shifted his hand up to cover Ronan’s ribs. “I would’ve come even if I didn’t know it was a date. I like being with you.”

Ronan relaxed into him, and Adam held his breath like he always did when he had to remind himself that this was his now. He wasn’t being selfish for having this.

“So, next time I should spell things out for you,” Ronan murmured into his neck.

“Might be good.” Adam knew his own weaknesses, and he was prone to not communicating. He was working on that.

Then Adam straightened, shifting so that Ronan’s head rolled off his neck.

“Or I could ask you,” Adam said to Ronan’s confused (and slightly disappointed) look. “Ronan Lynch, do you want to ride the Ferris wheel with me?”

The brief glance of Ronan’s wide eyes made Adam smile through his heated cheeks. He knew he was blushing, but Ronan’s cheeks were fully pink now.

“I can try to bribe the guy to stop us at the top,” said Adam. “Like in the movies.”

Ronan inhaled his smoker’s breath and leaned so close that he nearly headbutted Adam.

“Thought that was cheesy.”

“I don’t need a replay of what I missed out on, Lynch.” A bit of leftover shame curled in Adam’s stomach before he smothered it entirely. He focused on softening his face, and he took Ronan’s hand tentatively. “But if you want to show me your favorite stuff, I can get behind that.”

Ronan threaded his fingers through Adam’s.

“I wanna be with you,” he said. “The rest doesn’t matter so much.”

Adam grinned.

“So, come on.” Adam pulled Ronan until he followed Adam to his feet. “Let’s go.”

“What about the funnel cake?” Ronan protested. Adam didn’t think he really meant it.

“That’s barely food, Lynch.” He rolled his eyes anyway. “I’ll buy you some real food after the Ferris wheel.”

“Fair food is a time-honored tradition, you pleb.”

Adam grinned all the way through Ronan’s complaining as they walked hand-in-hand through the fairgrounds.

[salexectrian-heir]

Loki: Chapter 13

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*

Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly.

Chapter 13

It had been the single most perfect Valentine’s Day she had ever had. The dinner, the candles, the bath…

Ar lath ma.

The admission had been a whisper against her skin. She thought she might have even made it up, hearing things she wanted to hear, so desperately. Her heart beat took off in a rapid staccato, spurring her to wrap her arms around his neck and slate her mouth over his. His confession had tasted even sweeter on her lips. Had felt more steady than the way he carried her out of the bath. Had been more intoxicating than the pleasure he gave her over and over in his bed that night. 

And yet it got caught in her throat when she tried to return it.

But that was why she was here now, outside his apartment. If she couldn’t say it yet, then she would show it. And then try to figure out why. 

A small voice hissed at the back of her head that she knew the reason, that she was just a coward. 

Nothing good lasts forever. Look what happened the last time a man told you that. Screaming matches, a family feud, heartbreak, a broken engagement, and running away.

She let out a sharp exhale, and quickly rolled her shoulders to chase away the fear. This time it would be different. She would be different. She had grown from that, and would shake off hold it had on her heart.

The key to his apartment was warm in her hand. Correction, now her key. She had been holding it tightly for the last five minutes standing outside his door, not quite ready to let herself in, mind revelling in the memories. If being honest, she was still not entirely over the fact that he gave her it in the first place. She had made him swear not to get her any gifts for Valentine's day on their date a week ago. She didn’t need chocolates or flowers (though she really did love getting flowers), and didn’t want him to feel like he had to buy her things just because some holiday dictated it. She would much rather receive a gift spontaneously, because he thought of her in the moment. And he listened. He did not give her his key on Valentine’s day. Instead, he waited until they had gone to bed. 

“It is 1:03 AM,” he had said, reaching over her body to open the drawer of his bedside table and to take something out. 

“Yeah, so?” She twisted beneath him, trying to get a better look at what he was doing.

 “It’s no longer Valentine’s Day. I can now give you a gift.”

“Oi,” she had begun to protest, “I said we’d split this date evenly, and you already broke that rule.” Her attempt to pin his arm back down had been easily thwarted, “and now you’re about to break--” he interrupted with a kiss to her lips. Then to her nose. Then to her cheek, trailing down her jaw to her neck. Needless to say that distraction worked. While preoccupied with his mouth, he had pressed something into her the palm of her hand in the darkness. The shape was unmistakable.

“It is not much, but I figured it would be wise if you had a key to my place. That is, if you ever wanted to come over, even if it is three am after your shift when I am not away, or--”

Anise had not been so chaste in her interruption. Not at all.

“I said no presents,” she had said between kisses, “you lied to me.”

“Only by omission.”

She turned the key over in her hand. She was here to show her love, to fill his fridge with groceries so he would have something to eat when he got in tonight because she knew he would be too tired to go to the store himself before coming home.

The lock came open with ease, and the light from the hall trickled in as she opened the door. 

In the dark, his apartment screamed ‘I’m lonely’. Flicking on the hall light didn’t do much to help, now it screamed ‘I’m lonely’ but with a fluorescent twist. She made a mental note to get him some better mood lighting. Candles seemed to be his go to, which are fantastic and romantic, but not always practical. And the amount of time he spent staring at his computer screen and doing paperwork… his eyes would thank him for it. 

She loaded his fridge with the essentials for breakfast she knew he liked. Almond milk, berry yogurt, eggs, granola for his pantry, a few boxes of protein bars. And a few things he could make for a later meal, fresh vegetables and fish. On a notepad she found on the counter she left him a note about what he would find, a little heart. 

On her way out, she paused by his bedroom door. His bed was immaculately made with not a wrinkle in sight. Like they had never spent nights together in it together. Like it had never been slept in at all. Heat rose rapidly in her cheeks at the idea her mind conjured staring at his bed. She shifted her weight as she stood in the doorway, debating whether or not to follow through on it. 

“Why the hell not,” she thought and walked towards the bed, pulling her hair out of the bun that had kept it piled on top of her head. 

She tossed back the comforter and broke the seal on the neatly tucked sheets. Phone in hand, she pulled her t-shirt over her head, left her bra and yoga pants on the floor, and climbed into his bed. She arranged his gray sheets over her body, pulled out her phone and laid down, her red hair spilling onto his pillows. With the front facing camera, she took a picture and sent it to Solas. quickly following up with a text of “i miss you”. He was most definitely on his flight by now, and most likely wouldn’t get it until he landed, and she would be well into her shift.

She didn’t fix his sheets before she left.

***

The first on-call room she tried to open she was met with a chorus of shocked outbursts. She slammed the door shut before she could see anything she would later regret. 

“Locks exist for a reason,” she snapped at the couple through the door, pounding her fist on it for good measure. 

The next one over was, graciously, empty and she quickly flopped down onto one of the beds. She needed just ten minutes to herself. The moment she had arrived at the hospital it had been chaos. A tractor trailer crashed into the bus that ran between downtown Haven and the suburbs on the highway, causing the ER to flood with bodies. She immediately started her shift scrubbing into an emergency surgery to assist Vivienne. Normally, the opportunity to scrub in with the Chief was well fought over by the residents, but no one protested when Vivienne called on Anise. There hadn’t been time for petty in-fighting this afternoon. 

Their patient, the bus driver, suffered several ruptured organs in their abdomen causing massive hemorrhaging, and a few broken ribs. In the end, their spleen had to be removed but their liver was salvaged and the perforations along their intestinal track repaired.

The vibration of her phone trapped between her thigh and the firm mattress ultimately stirred her from the depths of her mindlessness. A smile formed her lips when she saw she had a text from Solas. The perfect distraction.

 [Vhenan]

Thank you for the groceries. You are too kind. 

[10:03pm]

 A few seconds later, he sent another.

 [Vhenan]

 [Image]

Why are you not still in it?

[10:04pm]

It was a picture of his empty, ruined bed. Her smile broke into a full grin. 

[Anise]

 duty called, and it has been non-stop.  but i just so happen to have some free time on my hands right now

[10:05pm]

[Vhenan]

 Wasted, granted you are not here. I could think of many things to do to you with your hands in that free time

[10:05pm]

 Heat pooled in her belly, trickling down to ignite that oh so sweet sensation between her thighs.

 [Vhenan]

 Though, I should not distract you from your duty. That would be unkind.

[10:05pm]

[Anise]

 You. Tease.

[10:06pm]

[Vhenan]

 Come over after your shift ends. Whatever time that is. I will make it up to you.

[10:06pm]

 The sudden opening of the on-call room door startled Anise, and she dropped her phone right onto her face. 

“I didn’t...interrupt something… did I?” Hawke said, hesitating in the doorway.

Anise’s already flaming face burned even hotter. 

“No,” she said defensively, scrambling to sit up and stash her phone in her lab coat pocket.

“You aren’t really selling it.” Hawke kicked the door shut behind her and face planted on the bed on the opposite side of the room. Her voice came out muffled. “I’m laying down here anyway. Now spill it, Spice.” 

Anise rubbed her face with both hands. Hawke wasn’t going anywhere, and she had been dodging her for weeks about her personal life, after she overhead Dorian’s well-intentioned teasing of her extracurricular affairs. So she decided to be honest. 

“Well, I… started talking to someone.”

Hawke’s head immediately shot up. “Ooh, can I guess?”

Anise crossed her arms. “They don’t work here, so no.”

“Damn,” Hawke said, rolling over to face Anise, “you were able to meet someone outside of work? Where are you getting your free time, I would like some of that.” 

With a dismissive wave of her hand Anise said, “It was more of an accident. Chance encounter type thing.”

There was no way in hell Anise was going to tell Hawke she only met Solas because her kitten stole his underwear. Nope, not ever. Hawke would never let her live it down.

“Lucky you, I take it that’s why you were grinning all doe-eyed at your phone?”

“I was no--”

“Oh, come on,” Hawke teased, and made a cheesy, hopeless romantic facial expression, “total lovestruck doofus.”

Anise grabbed her pillow and lobbed it at Hawke’s face for a direct hit. “Ass.” 

“You got it bad, Spice,” Hawke cackled as she put the second pillow under her head, watching Anise stand and head to the door. “By the way, the new rotation schedule is up.”

Anise paused, her hand on the handle and looked over her shoulder. Hawke’s face broke into a shit-eating grin. 

“Judging by your smugness, you got what you wanted. Ortho?”

“Hell yeah I did.” Hawke’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “You on the other hand…”

“Oh no, I don’t like that look…Hawke, just tell me. What’s my verdict?”

“You’re on Cardio.”

Anise gulped.

“Good luck dealing with Fenris.”

Hawke’s snickering followed her out the door.

***

Anise gasped and shot up in bed, fingers digging into the center of her chest, scratching at the skin and bone barrier that separated her lungs from the oxygen she so desperately lacked. It was only a small relief to find as she raked her fingernails down her sternum that her chest cavity was not in fact split open, but wholly sealed and unbroken.

Firm hands yanked her own away from her body, and pulled her forward into a tight embrace as she continued to get down as much air as she could. He cradled her head under his chin and held her close to his body.

“I’m right here.” His voice cut through the static buzzing in her head and she latched onto it. “Okay?”  The familiar and comforting scent of him washed over her in seconds, and she began to relax in his arms. The steady rise and fall of his chest against her shoulder grounded her, and she tried to sync her own in time with his. 

“Nightmare,” he said more so than asked, after a few minutes had passed and her breaths came at less labored pace.

She nodded.and shifted so she could face him. “I was in the OR for open heart surgery.”

A hand rubbed at her back in slow circles down her spine. “Aren’t you always?”

“Yes,” she laughed, but it was mirthless. More of a slight gasp. “But I was on the operating table. Awake,” she said, knuckles digging into her breast bone again, feeling its solid resistance against her touch. The beat of her heart was still a little too fast to be normal. “It felt so real, I could feel everything. I–I couldn’t tell it was a dream. How do I know this isn’t? And it’s not the anesthesia kicking in and–”  

“Anise.” He entwined the fingers of his free hand with hers and guided it away from her body again. “Do you have a history of heart problems?”

Since I met you, perhaps.

“No,” she said instead, and felt more of the tension bleed out from her body. 

“You’ve been working too much.”

As he said it, it clicked. 

“I just found out I’m on cardio rotation next week, that has to be why.” 

The cardiothoracic attending was a bit of a nightmare himself, to say he was impossibly judgemental and incredibly intimidating would have been an understatement. And on top of that, there was some kind of unspoken feud between him and Anders, which made it difficult to get to know him. Seeing as she was friends with Anders, he didn’t really give her the time of day.

She sighed. “I just can’t shake how… how real it was.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain we are awake now, half-dressed, in my bedroom.”

That made her truly laugh, and chased away the remaining fear that had been lingering in her body. “Only reasonably certain?” She traced a path long his bare thigh with her fingertips, enjoying the way he tensed at her touch.

His exasperation was evident in the sharp exhale he let out against the top of her head. 

“Forgive me for my poor choice of words.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “But if I am being honest, you continue to surprise me every time you wish to stay.”

She turned her face so that it was only inches away from his own. 

“I sometimes believe you are a figment of a dream I created and expect to wake in an empty bed.”

“So dramatic,” she said, and tilted her face so that she could capture his lips before he could pull away.  “Am I everything you dreamed I would be?” 

“That and more,” he said without missing a beat, laying her back down with a kiss and pulling the covers back over their bodies. 

His hands continued to hold her as one kiss turned into another, and another...

Eventually, he drifted off into sleep. Her head tucked neatly under his chin, arms wrapped loosely around her body, and a thigh resting between her own. She was on the verge of joining him, but wanted to stay awake just a little longer in the comfort of his embrace.

Ar lath ma was her last conscious thought.

[trailersblog]

Choosing Between an Open and Enclosed Trailers

Choosing Between an Open and Enclosed Trailers

Gooseneck trailers and fifth wheel trailers have many advantages over the other sorts of trailers. They are not commonly utilized used enclosed gooseneck trailers for sale by towers though. These kinds of trailers are able to shoulder the burden of the trailer. The trailers are additionally protected throughout towing.

Fifth wheel trailers have a design that has the pivot level positioned over the rear axle of the automobile instead of behind it. A gooseneck trailer is subsequently a fifth wheel type. The difference between a fifth wheel trailer and a gooseneck trailer is of their cargo flooring.

A fifth wheel cargo ground extends over the body of the tractor whereas the gooseneck cargo flooring ends behind the bumper. The gooseneck is type of similar to different bumper mount trailers in that their cargo flooring additionally ends behind the bumper. In a gooseneck trailer hitch, the trailer kingpin mounts at a long truss's finish instead of below the body like a fifth wheel trailer. That's the reason why the gooseneck can work with the truck mattress of a typical choose up as an alternative of the flatbed required by the fifth wheel.

The reasoning behind the configuration of a fifth wheel it is on the effect the trailers' tongue weight has on the tractor. The physique of the truck acts like a seesaw when load is positioned on the rear bumper.

This pushes the doorway wheels up whereas the fulcrum is represented by the rear axle. You remove the seesaw impact for those who transfer the load's contact point over the rear axle straight. This permits the weight of the trailer, to be compressed by the springs of the rear axle instead of the truck nostril lifting. Extra weight distribution is achieved when further weight is at the front. This brings about dealing with that's safe and predictable.

The workings of a seesaw are that when one facet has extra weight, the other facet goes down. This is essential during heavy load towing. A trailer solely compresses the springs at the rear axle a variety of inches when the load is full. When the heavy load is applied to the bumper the rise prime drop needs to be added due to the fulcrum affect.

This may trigger hitch to highway contact. It is because a traditional Reese hitch receiver has two to a few inches hanging beneath the bumper. This causes improve of the fulcrum impact Read our Blog over bumpy roads. This might probably be worse if a trailer that tilts forward has further of its weight being transferred to the hitch amplifying the affect extra.

If you place the trailer's pivot close to the center of the automobile parking and backing are affected. The trailer pivot acts as a steering axle. When you place the trailer pivot away from the steering axle of the tow rig it responds slowly whereas backing on the steering inputs. This can mean that it's important to back the tow rig further.

You have to additionally steer it harder to be able to get the similar trailer rotation if the pivot stage is near the front. Fifth wheel trailers do that very effectively, making parking and backing a simple maneuver. Larger than any bumper-mount trailer.

Whenever you point out trailer hitch most people consider the ball model and although common for some sorts of hauling the gooseneck trailer hitch is way stronger and far more maneuverable. Gooseneck trailers are very common in trailers used to haul livestock.

In reality it is a widespread occurrence on for horse trailers. The sort of hitch is discovered within the truck bed above the rear axle. The trailer is then secured to the hitch. Right Clickl here for Wikipedia here is a few issues it's best to learn about this kind of hitch.

A gooseneck hitch just isn't a fifth wheel although it is commonly mistaken as such. Although very like a fifth wheel they are actually second in towing capability Social Network here. The gooseneck is certainly more durable to install than a fifth wheel and their efficiency is kind of restricted.

A gooseneck cannot be put in in all trucks. The truck you select should meet the burden 24 foot gooseneck trailer necessities for the trailer you'll be towing.

There are professionals and cons to each gooseneck trailers and fifth Wheels. A gooseneck has a tube that hangs down from beneath the bunk which hooks to a heavy obligation 2 5/sixteen" ball mounted in the truck's bed. It takes up little or no room nevertheless to ensure that you to be able to use the whole deck you can purchase a fold down ball set.

The drawback to t the gooseneck is the hook up could possibly be a little bit of a pain. You must place the ball instantly underneath the hitch which is not that simple. And also you additionally must crawl into the sector to hook up the security chains which might be quite an annoyance.

A 5th wheel in addition to being the strongest hitch system may be the very best to hook up and use. The fifth wheel hangs beneath the bunk and there's a larges metal plate with a 2 inch pin that nearly aligns itself. All it's trailers123.com a must to do is back up and get shut and it'll actually join itself. You do not have to crawl round hooking up safety chains infact there aren't any. A fifth wheel can be a one man band. Two can really be a crowd.

The disadvantage is that it prices a great bit and it is a little bit of a truck mattress hog taking over almost half of your mattress. There is a removable kind however it's heavy and awkward.

No matter what kind of hitch you may be utilizing hooking up your trailer and driving off into the sunset is considerably of a fable. There are a variety of rules that it is essential perceive and modify to before you start towing whether or not you're utilizing a gooseneck hitch, a fifth wheel hitch or widespread ball hitch.

Gooseneck trailers are a terrific determine for livestock and if you wish to enjoy some leisure time have in mind fifth wheel trailers - every good selections.

[webcricket]

Paradise

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Jack Kline and the Winchesters Word Count: 1764 Summary: Before he was born, Jack Kline showed Castiel a vision of the future; in it, the seraph saw paradise. Returning to you and Jack after a hunt with the Winchesters, Cas apprehends that the future is now. Please note, this is written with early season 14 powerless Jack in mind. Introspective angel. Fatherly fluff. Family.

“I saw the future. I saw a world without pain or hunger or want. I saw the world that this child… that your child… will create. And it is a world without fear and without suffering and without hate… I saw paradise.”

[Castiel, 12X23 All Along the Watchtower]

***

Interconnected by a network of river-like asphalt crevasses threatening to part and swallow a mis-stepping wanderer seeking sanctuary from the stormy night whole, inky rainwater ripples a sea of potholes spanning the parking lot. Swirling about a motel – the building a comparatively sunny island oasis in the murk – whose pallid green peeling façade has been moldering since it’s late 50s interstate-side family-fun road tripping hey-day, an ethereal fog faintly reeking of highway exhaust and weighted with the musk of damp earth rises from paved ground where the heat of day absorbed by blacktop thwarts the cooling effect of the downpour. Oily darkness seeps unhindered into the perimeter of pock-marked pavement; the crimson glare of a vacancy sign and choked yellow light blurring the nicotine-tinted windows of the motel’s main office fail, for the most part, in their combined effort to keep at bay the incursion of night; the artificial gleam coalesces – eerie influence heightened now and then by lingering lightening lashing the horizon – to illumine Castiel’s aspect with a celestially subversive hellish hue.

Hands pushed into his pockets out of habit more than to protect against the dank atmosphere, the rain-spattered host of Heaven treads carefully, pausing to let pass a plump earthworm making its way across the roughened concrete walkway; the simple creature toils – a ringed tube of muscle pulsing as its body stretches opaquely pink then contracts again to the color of mud – to Chuck only knows what terminus; and Cas, knowing we all have somewhere special we long to be on tempestuous nights such as these waits so as not to impede its slimy progress.

Standing thus, sodden chestnut curls crushed into the permanent tracts of worry etching his brow, the angel glances upward to determine the source of a steady streamer of droplets smattering his trench coat lapel. Focus following the roof edge, he tarries for a few of his vessel’s heartbeats to appreciate the rhythmic drip-drop-drip sputter of an overworked gutter; the mournful bellow of a fly-by-night tractor trailer interrupts the melodically and moistly saturating song.

That, and the argumentative tones carried in the muggy air of two brothers as they plod, battle-weary and bloodied, bickering over who called dibs on a shower first. The younger concedes to the elder with a sweepingly derisive gesture indicating defeat on account of sheer exhaustion. The elder, ever happy to accept a win – any win – grunts in smug satisfaction and flashes his teeth.

At the sight of them safe – unperturbed, presently anyway, by anything supernatural – the angel permits the subtle softness of a smile to smite some of the usual seriousness squaring his jawline; he keeps an affectionately tempered watch on the men until they reach their destination.

The humidity-swollen door of suite 11 gives way to the ungentle nudging of Dean’s shoulder; the pitch within engulfs his bow-legged form.

Trailing behind his brother, Sam braces a palm to the threshold. Swiping the other across his forehead, he smears at the wet of rain and caked sweat collected there that trickles to sting his vision. Sensing the concentration of a gaze at his back, he turns to peer at the sentry-like seraph situated along the opposite row of rooms; he offers him a tired smile and a courteous nod, the micro expressions a summary of thankfulness they made it through another day – together, and mostly unscathed – and a sincere wish for a goodnight.

Cas lifts a hand from its pocketed confines to acknowledge Sam’s unspoken sentiment before the hazel-eyed hunter, too, disappears from view. Gaze falling to his water-specked boots, seeing no sign of earthworms laboring near the soles, he shifts his attention to the closed door at his right marked 23.

The door appears utterly unremarkable, like any of a thousand other doors; and yet, the two beings lodged behind the wooden barrier – a soul resplendent with a love he strives in all he does to deserve whose fitful breathing pattern he recognizes for one of tenuous slumber over the din of a television left on for distraction in his absence, and a son, not of his conception, but nonetheless his progeny by providential circumstance, choice, and a reciprocal devotion too deep to be anything less than a bond between father and son – are to him of paramount importance.

Superficially speaking, he notes the paint eroded around the knob with repeated use – a once bold hue faded to grey; studying the lock scarred by countless misaimed keys, he sifts through his trousers to locate the puzzle piece of notched metal required to garner entry. Key eluding him, likely long lost in the late kerfuffle with several lately departed demons, he concentrates his intent on the bolt and flicks two fingers to free the mechanism; the latch relents to its divine undoing with a muffled click and the door swings inward.

Warmly caressing the two precious sleeping figures within, a rush of sultry air surges along with the seraph’s irrepressibly welling grace – an angelic greeting of sorts he cannot suppress that swathes your bodies, reassuring him directly of your well-being. Irises sparkling blue, their shining surface reflecting the black and white Western ambling across the television screen, fix on Jack in the nearest bed, and you beyond, curled into yourself and clutching a pillow in lieu of your preferred bed partner, as he endeavors to quickly re-secure the door without disturbing the prevailing peace.

Feeling the familiarity of his grace smooth every inch of your skin, a small sigh of delight escapes your lips as your respiration settles to a restful regularity; even in unconsciousness, you sense the seraph’s energetically charged arrival and respond with relief.

Carpet discoloring where it drenches beneath his feet as though he is a vagabond washed ashore by the tide from a long and aimless voyage at sea, Cas divests himself of his signature – and by convenient chance, weather appropriate – coat, casting it aside to dry on a chairback, before drifting further into the room. Fingers slackening the knot of his tie and unfastening the topmost buttons of his shirt, each initial step inward liberates boots and socks and lightens his heart with the emotion of a homecoming where you discover what you remember with especial fondness endures outside the bounds of time itself. It matters not to him that only a few meager hours have passed apart which may seem to some no time at all; the iterant angel cherishes every minute fortune blesses him with a family; and not just any family – his family – the one he forged and fights for on an unshakeable foundation of faith and fidelity.

Rounding Jack’s bedside, Cas’ regard lands on a comic book loosely hanging from the boy’s grasp; the colorfully graphic pages poise in a precipitous gravitational battle between insensate fingertips and the floor. He collects the comic, reads the title of Constantine plastered across the cover, and stares for a moment at the sight of the trench coat clad centric-character. The soft smile Sam caught a glimpse of earlier eases roundness into the angel’s cheeks and fractures the flesh cornering his blues in a charming chaos of creases.

Setting the comic on the side table for safekeeping, Cas reaches down to lightly comb the hair from Jack’s cloistered eyes; stooping, he tenders a kiss to the bared forehead. “Sweet dreams, my boy,” his lips brush the gravelly murmured hope into the Nephilim’s mind, crowding out the doubt Cas knows dogs him therein; knowing well that very same pain, it hurts the angel’s heart witnessing Jack struggle to find his way in the world – between worlds – just as he did. Cas is grateful he’s here to help him navigate, to pick him up with unfailing belief and forgiveness when he falls down because he understands from experience that is what it takes to go on when it’s so much easier to give in.

A static tingle of awareness runs his vessel’s spine, climbing all the way to pill the hair peppering his nape, a sure indicator of clandestine observation. Steeped in sentimental thought, he missed the signs of you rousing. Straightening, moving with deliberate slowness of action to relish in the escalating uptick of your heartbeat as you eagerly wait for him to turn, he tugs the blanket over the boy’s shoulders and tucks him in.

As soon as the angel’s chin slants in your direction, your eyelids squeeze in a mockery of sleep; you cannot, however, repress the waking of the smile curving your mouth. Swiftly, he’s on you. Arms caging, lips seal over yours to quiet a giggle; unable to subdue the gladness of greeting where mouths meet, the shared smiles meld into something even sweeter.

It’s you – always you, human frailty an affront to the unending potential of angelic passion – that begs mercy for a breath first; pardoning yourself from the kiss to pant into the collar of his shirt, you embrace him round the neck, demanding with gentle insistence he join you in the bed.

He surrenders to the promise of loving comfort without struggle; clambering over you to collapse on the vacant side of the mattress, he notches himself in the welcoming fold of your arms.

Fingers tangling his still damp hair, you draw his head to rest on the cushion of your bosom.

Serenity, safety, and love sheltered within these walls, evenness of your breath calming, he gives himself permission to fully relax. The spectral silhouette of wings unfurling dances upon the wall in the TV's undulant light; blanketing you, the feathery tips stretch across the gap between beds to shroud, too, his son. Contentment hums in his throat.

“You guys take care of those demons?” The hushed query echoes through the laddered rungs of your ribs and into his ears.

“Mm-hmm.” He vibrates in answer.

“Sam and Dean, they’re okay?”

“They’re Sam and Dean,” he teases, volume equally low so as not to wake Jack, “they manage to be fine in spite of themselves and just about everything else that tries to prove otherwise.”

Your chest bounces in a silently contained laugh. “And what about you, angel?”

The question needs no consideration. He’s never been better. This is the future – the paradise – Jack showed him once upon a time: a present without the pain of doubt, the hunger to belong, or the want of purpose. Castiel sees now that paradise isn’t a place you go to, it’s the people you’re with – the people you love and who love you in return. Outside a storm rages and darkness forever encroaches; in here, he nestles nearer, tells you he’s, “Good,” and means it.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy    @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity  @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx  @moon-and-stars-cas  @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt  @jessikared97  @let-the-imaginationflow  @warriorqueen1991   @sebastianstanslefteyebrow   @hisnameisboobear  @kristendanwayne  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75  @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @passionghost  @sherlockedtash88  @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim  @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson  @iminlokisarmysofi  @pixiedusts  @spookysculderfiles  @laqueus-ludovicus  @missjenniferb @lexininja  @jessiekay2010   @skrratata  @rhiannonj79  @calicat79

[axel-fics]

Could I get a request for Axel/Lea taking care of his S/O that has gotten sick?

Fighting the Flu

Ever hear the phrase: “I feel like a tractor-trailer ran me over”? Multiply that by three, and that’s about how you felt right now. 

What started off as a mild stomach ache a few days ago fully bloomed into the flu. At first, you thought it was just something bad you ate and passed it off as a twenty-four hour stomach bug, but when you woke up a second day feeling worse than ever, you knew instantly that wasn’t the case. All the energy in your body was drained, leaving you confined to your bed for hours. Barely any food stayed in your system for long. You felt so cold that you were violently shaking despite the 101 degree fever you’ve been running for three days straight. What made matters worst was coming down with a cold on top of everything: stuffy, runny nose, terrible cough, the whole nine yards. Miserable didn’t even begin to cover how lousy you felt. 

Axel has been a godsend from the moment you fell ill. He made sure to keep you hydrated with plenty of water, fed you soup and crackers, and carried you to the bathroom when your vomiting spells hit. He even stayed home from his training sessions just to keep an eye on you, despite the fact that more than half the time you were asleep (or at least trying to sleep). Every few hours Axel would wake you up and give you some more water, a couple crackers to try and digest, and some medication he picked up from the pharmacy down the block. Compared to a couple days ago, you were definitely making some progress but not yet out of the woods. 

You felt bad that Axel spent every night since you got sick on the couch, but you also didn’t want him catching your illness. Honestly, it was a miracle he hasn’t caught it yet since he’s been cooped up in your tiny apartment this entire time. You could just picture his long legs hanging over the side of the small couch; he must have looked ridiculous and cute at the same time. If you had the energy, you would have giggled at the thought. 

Dozing in and out of consciousness, you heard Axel rummaging through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. A few more moments of silence passed until you felt a warm hand press up against your forehead. Stirring from slumber, you shifted your position until you were facing Axel. 

“How do you feel, babe?”

“Same as before…” you mumbled. 

“You’re still really warm. Open up,” Axel said as he placed the thermometer under your tongue. A few seconds later, the thermometer beeped softly, and Axel removed it from your mouth. “Still at 100. We gotta break this fever of yours.”

You groaned in response, too exhausted to keep your eyes open. Axel handed you some water, which you reluctantly drank, and wrapped a third blanket around you like a cocoon. It didn’t really do much difference for you as you were still shivering pretty badly. Unbuckling his belt and stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers, Axel climbed into bed next to you and spooned you close to him. 

“What are you doing? You’ll get sick,” you whispered. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he said softly. “Breaking your fever is most important right now. I’m going to try warming you up myself.” 

Cuddling up to him, you honestly weren’t going to argue any further. The lack of physical contact over the last few days has been rough. You missed his arms around you every night, the feeling of his warm hands resting on your bare tummy soothing you into a deep slumber. His warmth enveloped you like a burrito, and soon enough the shivering started to subside and you once again drifted off into a deep sleep. 

When you awoke again hours later, the room was completely dark. You were completely delirious from the heat combining with whatever medicine you were on that you couldn’t tell if it was late at night or very early in the morning. Your entire body was drenched in sweat; your hair clung to your forehead and neck, and your long pajama t-shirt was soaked. Despite feeling grossed out, you actually felt a lot better for the first time.

Axel’s arms were still wrapped around your torso, his chin resting on your shoulder and slept peacefully. Desperate to change out of your wet clothes, you gently unwrapped his arms from your stomach and carefully lifted yourself off the bed, your legs feeling like Jell-O from not walking in a good twenty-four hours. Stripping off your t-shirt, you jumped in the shower to rinse off the salty sweat from your body and rinse your hair with some shampoo.

Walking back into the bedroom, you quietly opened one of your dresser drawers to change into a new t-shirt. Your stomach grumbled for the first time, signaling your hunger. 

“I heard that,” Axel mumbled. He sat up in bed and gave you a sleepy smile. “Sounds like your getting your appetite back.”

“I just hope I can keep it down,” you laughed. 

“Come lay back down, I’ll go make you something,” he said and patted your spot on the mattress next to him. Even though you’ve been laying down for days, your body still ached to be in bed. Climbing back in, Axel got up and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you, Axel, for everything,” you smiled. 

“Hey, I’m always going to take care of my girl, got it memorized?”

You nodded as he turned to leave the room, but he suddenly stopped in the doorway. Before you could ask what he was doing, Axel let out not one, but three loud sneezes. 

Oh, no… 

[halleehalfgallon]

my husband’s childhood home is going on the market next week. the only house he’s ever lived.

seeing it so empty makes it seem a whole new house to me. a beautiful place instead of a scary one (ask me about the ghost stories sometime). here are my favorite rooms/parts of it.

1. to the left is the window to the room where I spent many days waiting. waiting for our cabin to be done enough so that we wouldn’t have to depend on Logan’s parents, waiting for me to get enough driving hours under my belt so that I could choose to go somewhere and do something while Logan was at work. when I wasn’t a bookseller I was shut away in that room watching Gilmore Girls.

the room itself holds no real space in my heart, but the window was a reminder that there was an outside. the neighborhood where they lived used to be a quiet and inviting place, and in the past I might’ve had the chance to go outside and enjoy a world outside of Logan’s bedroom. by the time I was introduced to the house, though, the road was a major route, and the window panes shook violently when a tractor trailer wound through at 50mph. I didn’t want to be outside there, but it was good to know that life was not limited to that old house.

2. I don’t know what you would call a spot like this. I just know that if it were mine, I’d put a pile of quilts down in it and write there all day long, suspended there like that.

3. I have always wanted a window seat. the cabin is much too small for one, but I got my fix when I stayed here. if ever I did venture down the stairs to get something to eat, lounging here was my first choice. the house was naturally cool year round but the sun came in through the glass so kindly. there was a mattress and pillows and throw blankets and a place to set your tea.

I’ll be sad to see the old house go. I hope so sincerely that they don’t just knock it down.

[asupernaturalgirl]

Back to Hunting: Part 2

A/N: Woohoo! I’m really pleased with the feedback from the first part and so I think I’ll continue writing. I’ll try to post 1-2 per week, but for right now there really is no schedule. I hope you guys enjoy this part!

Description: Y/N has been out of the hunting life for many years, but after a run in with a supernatural creature, she’s forced to call some boys she hasn’t seen in a while. The Winchesters. 

Warnings: trashy motels (and everything that comes with that), financial issues, car problems.

    Winter in Wisconsin was never easy, but somehow, walking out in that cold weather to get to your car was even worse at the moment. Knowing you were completely alone, no dog, no family left, sent chills up your spine in the first place. The chilling wind was not making it any better. Sticking the key into the ignition, you turn it and the car rumbles a few times, unhappy to start in the freezing climate. It was a piece of crap anyway. The only thing you could afford. This was not the time for it to be testing you, but it proves you wrong when the engine finally comes to life and you can relax.

    You know where to go, having pictured it in your mind. There was an old motel just a few miles outside of town. It seemed to be made for prostitutes and tractor trailer drivers, but it was nothing you weren’t used to. Just like Sam and Dean, you’d almost grown up in motel rooms like that, too young to follow your father on difficult hunts. You followed the road by memory, not remembering what the exact name of the place was.

    Just ahead, you could see the red flashing sign in front of the raggedy building. When you saw the name “The Red Barn,” you cursed yourself for ever forgetting it. The idea of the name was completely random though, as nothing on the motel was red or looked like a barn. You pulled into a parking spot and grabbed your phone from the book bag next to you, creating a contact for Dean Winchester and beginning to type out you text for him. “Motel is called The Red Barn. It’s in Platteville, Wisconsin.”

    You stuff your phone in your pocket and climb out of the car, throwing the book bag over your shoulder and making your way into the small office in the front. An old woman who looked like she could fall over dead at any moment sat at the desk, writing something in an old book. She looked up as the bell over the door rang. Her face was grim and she didn’t greet you in any way. “What do you need?”

    “Can I have a two twin bed room for 2 nights?” You asked. It made since for now to book the room for two days. If more time was needed, you could buy it later on. You also wanted two beds for the boys when they got here. If you needed to, you’d sleep on the floor. It was a big favor of them to come help you and you wanted to pay them back.

    She snatched your credit card out of your hand and swiped it into a machine, pushing a few buttons before standing slowly and grabbing an old key from the cabinet behind her. “Your in room 130.”

    “Thanks,” You groan, taking the key and leaving the smoky office. You hated how familiar this felt. It was almost like going home. For some reason, you’d expected it to feel more unnatural, like you’d forgotten what those 18 years of your life was like.

    While you were no longer a hunter making absolutely no money, a starting receptionist in small town Wisconsin didn’t make much more than one, so even though you would have loved to stay in a Holiday Inn, this was still all you could afford. As you approached your room, you stuck the key in and opened the door to the strong smell of cigarettes and booze. The sheets in the room were outdated and faded and the wallpaper was brown, but seemed to have been white at some point. It was disgusting, but you had no other choice.

    You throw your things on the bed and sit down, burying your face in your hands. How could this have happened to you once again? There were people who went their entire lives without knowing about the Supernatural but you somehow seemed to be some sort of magnet to it. Now your dog was dead and you were forced back in.

    Tears pricked at your eyes and you let out a cry, trying to wipe the wet drops from your eyes before they even existed them, to no avail. You needed to keep your mind busy, doing something. It was 8 o’clock at night, but you didn’t want to settle down yet. Instead, you decided it would be best to go to the grocery store and pick up some food for the brother when they got to the motel.

    You start the car once again and pull out of the old parking lot, making your way to the local grocery store where you would try to guess what the brothers ate these days and picked up the one thing you were sure of. A hunter loves beer and you happened to know these boys were no exception to that rule.

…

    A loud knock at the door startles you awake, your heart beating quickly. Disoriented, you turn to alarm clock to see that it was just past 4 in the morning. You groan slightly and sit up, wiping the sleep from your eyes and pushing your feet over the side of the bed. Your back aches from the cheap mattress and your hair was a complete mess. Somehow you’d forgotten what had happened yesterday and it took you a full minute to piece the events back together in your mind. Suddenly, it occured to you that the Winchesters were here and you jumped up, rushing to open the door.

    You couldn’t help but smile as you took in the Winchester brothers and all their glory. The boys stood there, smiles on their faces as well. “I’m sorry I look so bad, guys. I completely forgot to set an alarm last night. Didn’t know what time you all would get in.”

    They seemed to have grown to the height of two full humans stacked on top of each other from the last time you saw them. Both the brothers were older than you, but you can still remember how young Sam was the last time you saw him. He was in college the last time you’d spoken, happy to get out of the life just like you. Dean hadn’t changed much other than a few more lines on his face. He looked more like a grown man. While you’d always found him handsome, he was even more so now than ever.

    Sam steps forward and gives you a side hug. “We don’t care. It’s good to see you, Y/N. We were surprised to hear from you.”

    Before you can answer, Dean pulls you in for a hug as well. You could feel his strong arms around you as he patted your back slightly. “Long time now see, Y/L/N. Shouldn’t have gone this long without talking.”

    “Yeah,” You pull your hair back in a ponytail as you pull back from Dean. You step aside to let them in. “I didn’t want anything to do with the life anymore. I was done with it. Everything was almost normal again, until this happened. Didn’t even want to accept that I had to call you for something.”

    Dean and Sam set their bags on the ground and cross their arms over their chest, watching you explain. “You got rid of all your stuff?”

    “It had been years since I even heard from someone in the life. I thought I would be fine. I figured once I left, it would leave me,” You shrug your shoulders and roll your eyes. “I should have been less stupid as a former hunter.”

    Dean and Sam both furrow their brows and shake their heads. Sam speaks up. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. You chose to leave, you get to throw away the stuff. We’re hunters for a reason. We help people when they can’t do it themselves. And sometimes when they can.”

    You nod your head and look down to the ground at your toes. “It just happened so fast. I worked quickly but by the time I got out in the yard, the dog was already dead. It was just so quick, I couldn’t even save him. He was so solid, but warm. It was like he was paralyzed.”

    Dean and Sam both bite their lips and look at each other, a brotherly look. Sam pulled out his computer and began to type in some things on a search engine. Dean turned to me. “Are you okay?”

    “Me?”

    He nodded and you shrugged your shoulders. It had been a while since anyone had asked you that and you weren’t used to the question. “Yeah, I guess so. Charlie was all I had but he’s a dog. I can only get so upset.”

    He bit his lip and gave you a slightly smile before clapping his hands together. “So, we’ll need to get back to your house and check everything out. Do you want to lead us there in your car and I’ll follow in Baby?”

    “Baby?” You questioned, furrowing your eyebrows.

    Sam gave you a look that said, “Don’t ask,” but Dean seemed to be quite offended. “I know you remember those nights driving home in the Impala, Y/N. She’s mine now. And she’s still a beaut.”

    You chuckled lightly and shook your head in disbelief. “You really are something, Winchester. You guys can follow me.”

    Both the brothers walked out of the door with you and you locked it behind, turning to your car. Dean and Sam moved to the old Impala you knew so well and you tried to start the car, only to have it stall once again. Groaning loudly, you bang your hands against the steering wheel and attempt to start it again, to no avail. Dean looks over before getting out of his car. Your face blushed furiously, embarrassed your car was taking this time not to start. You didn’t want them to know you were this bad off. Making minimum wage wasn’t easy on your transportation situation.

    Dean walks to your side and opens the door, his brows furrowed as Sam gets out of the Impala as well. “What’s going on with the car?”

    “She’s got a mind of her own sometimes, doesn’t like to start when I really need her,” You get out and pop the hood. You knew absolutely nothing about cars in general and didn’t even know what could be the issue.

    “That can’t be safe, Y/N. You live on your own in a town where you don’t know anyone else. If your car stalled out or wouldn’t start, you’d be stranded. Have you taken it to a mechanic?” Sam asks, concern in his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

    “No,” You admit, trying not to make eye contact with the brothers for the moment.

    “Why not?” Dean asked, looking in the engine for anything he could see outright without having to search around.

    “I work as a receptionist in small town Wisconsin. I’m not afforded such luxuries,” You smiled, embarrassed. Both the brothers looked at you for a moment, surprise you just admitted your financial struggles. You hated the look of pity on Sam’s face. He was planning on going to law school the last time you’d spoke. He was the people you worked for.

    “Well, lucky for you, Dean Winchester happens to be a guy who knows a lot about cars and I’ve got a flat rate for any fix,” He grabbed your key out of your hand and opened the driver’s door, getting in and attempting to turn the key. “A beer.”

    You’d remembered this about Dean. He’d always been generous to people that he knew and cared about. If they were friends of family or family in general, he was always there to help them and this was no exception. “Dean, you don’t have to do this. I’ve been saving up some money to get it fixed.”

    “Sweetheart, don’t worry about it,” He said, not even bothering to look at you as he started down at the dashboard. He turned the key a few more times, but nothing happened. Realization crossed his face. “It’s a bad alternator. We can get it fairly cheap online and have it here by the time were finished with the case.”

    His generosity almost brought tears to your eyes and you gave him your most sincere smile. “Thank you, Dean. This means so much.”

    “Don’t sweat it,” He shrugged his shoulders and got out of the car, locking the door behind him. “Climb into baby and you can just tell me where to turn. Let’s get this show on the road.”