title: ain't no good life (supernatural)
Oct. 6th, 2006 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsostitle: ain't no good life (r)
author: troll princess
spoilers: "everybody loves a clown"
word count: 1,000 words, give or take
author's note: where the fuck did all my capital letters go?!
real author's note: ash fic. just 'cause.
** ain't no good life **
you can't really shoot pool well on the table no more unless you're at the roadhouse all the time because of the groove his body's worn into the felt.
nothing you can see, mind you, but you can spot it in the way the ball curves just so when you thought you'd shot it straight, the way it weebles and wobbles and spins towards the wrong pocket like a drunken ballet dancer. you aim for the corner but there it goes, the eight ball twirling in a dizzy twist towards the side pocket, and there he is, with that told-you-so grin with a toothpick in the corner.
you gonna stop picking on the customers anytime soon?, jo asks.
he gives her a smack on the rump and gets an equally hard smack across the back of the head in return, but his fingertips leave a blue-chalk wake along the curve of her ass.
on spring breaks when he was still in school, the real geeks stayed behind while most of the students went someplace sunny and bright and brilliant.
he came back home, back to the roadhouse. he left behind his hair bands and baseball caps and let himself be mothered and coddled as much as ellen ever did for anyone. he rebuilt motherboards for half a dozen hunters and fucked with their gps sytems. he took bets on what random objects he could turn into emf meters and won every time.
he fucked one of the women hunters who passed through and nearly dislocated a shoulder in the process. he drank a lot. he only fell asleep in a bed one time.
there's something comforting about coming into the roadhouse and seeing him sprawled all over the bar, slumped against the jukebox, curled up in the corner.
one night, the place is packed for once but there he is behind the counter, head resting against the register like it's a fucking down pillow.
ain't you gonna do something bout that boy takin up like that all over your damn bar?, one hunter asks ellen.
she swipes his empty bottle of bud and replaces it with another, gives him a hard look that'd cut glass. kid's comfortable, eddie, she says. you lay off that kid or you'll be getting your beer elsewhere, you hear me?
at school, he scared off three roommates before he finally struck gold with elmer, who wore thick coke-bottle glasses and had gotten used to the glue jokes. elmer shouldn't have put up with his shit nearly as well as he did, but elmer also muttered to himself a lot and ate sunflower seeds and orange juice for days before tests because he claimed they were brain food.
their second week of rooming together, they taped an outline of a body on the floor of the dorm room and made everybody who came in guess who'd been murdered and who had done it. the only clue they gave was that a giant robot was involved. they didn't have to buy their own beer for weeks.
their fifth week of rooming together, he tumbled into the dorm room in the middle of the night with a girl in tow and woke elmer up in the process.
hey, elmer, he said, this is sandra. she's ... adventurous.
sandra had big tits and an even bigger brain, long red hair and a thing for smart guys. he was pretty sure elmer was a virgin from the start, and when sandra climbed into elmer's lap and elmer flinched, he was sure of it.
their seventh week of rooming together, elmer's parents came to visit and meet their son's roommate. he told them his parents passed on, let the drawl slip in all sweet and charming like a gentleman at Sunday church services. elmer's mother sent them an apple pie a week later, although how she managed to ship the damn thing was a mystery unto itself.
their eighth week of rooming together, elmer's body was found on campus, torn apart by something not human.
two days later, there was this fight.
the roadhouse is a place where you never shoot pool with someone you've never met before and you never play darts with someone with that look in their eyes. the air is mostly cigarette smoke and turning on the jukebox means you plan to be the one unplugging it when that damn thing don't shut off.
he knows where all the guns are, what he can grab onto and turn into a weapon in a fight, where he's spilled his blood on the floor from knuckles or lips or chin. he knows ain't no one here to give him shit about his hair, to cringe when he plays skynyrd or creedence or widen their eyes when he pops in johnny cash. he knows the grooves in the floor, he knows the sound of ellen's voice waking him up every so often and the playful tease of jo's hips when she catches the beat.
he offers to jerry-rig ellen a security system, something with lasers, and she refuses.
he begs to organize her files, fix her car, give him something useful to do.
don't you have a job to go?, she says.
he shrugs. they ain't missin' me, he says, because you can't miss someone who's never missed a day and knows more'n you ever will. just because he didn't finish school don't mean he's not getting paid.
at the end of the night, ellen finds him sleeping on the pool table again, and smiles.
author: troll princess
spoilers: "everybody loves a clown"
word count: 1,000 words, give or take
author's note: where the fuck did all my capital letters go?!
real author's note: ash fic. just 'cause.
you can't really shoot pool well on the table no more unless you're at the roadhouse all the time because of the groove his body's worn into the felt.
nothing you can see, mind you, but you can spot it in the way the ball curves just so when you thought you'd shot it straight, the way it weebles and wobbles and spins towards the wrong pocket like a drunken ballet dancer. you aim for the corner but there it goes, the eight ball twirling in a dizzy twist towards the side pocket, and there he is, with that told-you-so grin with a toothpick in the corner.
you gonna stop picking on the customers anytime soon?, jo asks.
he gives her a smack on the rump and gets an equally hard smack across the back of the head in return, but his fingertips leave a blue-chalk wake along the curve of her ass.
on spring breaks when he was still in school, the real geeks stayed behind while most of the students went someplace sunny and bright and brilliant.
he came back home, back to the roadhouse. he left behind his hair bands and baseball caps and let himself be mothered and coddled as much as ellen ever did for anyone. he rebuilt motherboards for half a dozen hunters and fucked with their gps sytems. he took bets on what random objects he could turn into emf meters and won every time.
he fucked one of the women hunters who passed through and nearly dislocated a shoulder in the process. he drank a lot. he only fell asleep in a bed one time.
there's something comforting about coming into the roadhouse and seeing him sprawled all over the bar, slumped against the jukebox, curled up in the corner.
one night, the place is packed for once but there he is behind the counter, head resting against the register like it's a fucking down pillow.
ain't you gonna do something bout that boy takin up like that all over your damn bar?, one hunter asks ellen.
she swipes his empty bottle of bud and replaces it with another, gives him a hard look that'd cut glass. kid's comfortable, eddie, she says. you lay off that kid or you'll be getting your beer elsewhere, you hear me?
at school, he scared off three roommates before he finally struck gold with elmer, who wore thick coke-bottle glasses and had gotten used to the glue jokes. elmer shouldn't have put up with his shit nearly as well as he did, but elmer also muttered to himself a lot and ate sunflower seeds and orange juice for days before tests because he claimed they were brain food.
their second week of rooming together, they taped an outline of a body on the floor of the dorm room and made everybody who came in guess who'd been murdered and who had done it. the only clue they gave was that a giant robot was involved. they didn't have to buy their own beer for weeks.
their fifth week of rooming together, he tumbled into the dorm room in the middle of the night with a girl in tow and woke elmer up in the process.
hey, elmer, he said, this is sandra. she's ... adventurous.
sandra had big tits and an even bigger brain, long red hair and a thing for smart guys. he was pretty sure elmer was a virgin from the start, and when sandra climbed into elmer's lap and elmer flinched, he was sure of it.
their seventh week of rooming together, elmer's parents came to visit and meet their son's roommate. he told them his parents passed on, let the drawl slip in all sweet and charming like a gentleman at Sunday church services. elmer's mother sent them an apple pie a week later, although how she managed to ship the damn thing was a mystery unto itself.
their eighth week of rooming together, elmer's body was found on campus, torn apart by something not human.
two days later, there was this fight.
the roadhouse is a place where you never shoot pool with someone you've never met before and you never play darts with someone with that look in their eyes. the air is mostly cigarette smoke and turning on the jukebox means you plan to be the one unplugging it when that damn thing don't shut off.
he knows where all the guns are, what he can grab onto and turn into a weapon in a fight, where he's spilled his blood on the floor from knuckles or lips or chin. he knows ain't no one here to give him shit about his hair, to cringe when he plays skynyrd or creedence or widen their eyes when he pops in johnny cash. he knows the grooves in the floor, he knows the sound of ellen's voice waking him up every so often and the playful tease of jo's hips when she catches the beat.
he offers to jerry-rig ellen a security system, something with lasers, and she refuses.
he begs to organize her files, fix her car, give him something useful to do.
don't you have a job to go?, she says.
he shrugs. they ain't missin' me, he says, because you can't miss someone who's never missed a day and knows more'n you ever will. just because he didn't finish school don't mean he's not getting paid.
at the end of the night, ellen finds him sleeping on the pool table again, and smiles.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 09:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 10:17 pm (UTC)You did good. :)
he knows ain't no one here to give him shit about his hair, to cringe when he plays skynyrd or creedence or widen their eyes when he pops in johnny cash. he knows the grooves in the floor, he knows the sound of ellen's voice waking him up every so often and the playful tease of jo's hips when she catches the beat.
I love the weird little homes in this fandom. A shack of a bar, or a vintage impala.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 10:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 10:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 11:15 pm (UTC)Fun stuff.
:)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 11:20 pm (UTC)i stole yor capslock, ahaha.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 12:02 am (UTC)Yes. Exactly. That's Ash right there.
You rock. ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 12:38 am (UTC)I love him already an squee-d when I saw someone had already written fic. IMDB has him at least in one more episode, I really hope they flesh him out, I also really wish they give us the backstories of these interesting characters!
Ahh thank heaven for fanfic!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 04:41 am (UTC)Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 07:23 am (UTC)two days later, there was this fight.
*Awesome.*
no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 11:05 pm (UTC)their second week of rooming together, they taped an outline of a body on the floor of the dorm room and made everybody who came in guess who'd been murdered and who had done it. the only clue they gave was that a giant robot was involved. they didn't have to buy their own beer for weeks.
is pure MIT.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 09:43 am (UTC)I so hope Ash will be a recurring character!
And the Roadhouse? Sounds like just my kind of place. I might drop in from time to time.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-17 12:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-23 10:38 am (UTC)Love it. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-24 05:28 am (UTC)but then again, i just love ash. totally and utterly. and i don't know if you read these comments, but it would be awesome if you'd post a link to this story at
crack-addictedcool, ash-lovin' kids hang out. if you don't want to join the comm to post, i would be more than happy to put up the link for you. [/pimp]anyway, now i must go and re-read. because, ya know, ash.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-12 03:16 pm (UTC)Suddenly I remembered the last episode.
I'm crying all over again.
Damn.