oh hey writers workshop its been a while (well apparently its the fiction fairground now) anyway ah um i decided to make an epic comeback for the summer and post some of the fan-fiction one-shots i have been working on. this is one of them. none of them are pokemon related unfortunately. i dont really play pokemon anymore and i have long since grown out of it. still, i love the community here, which is why i remain on this site. i also want to spread more of work out.

anyway, here we are, my first dump of fan-fictions of the day. this is a supernatural fan-fiction featuring destiel and the on-going tension between the two characters, dean and castiel. pretty short, less than five hundred words (i hope that's okay to post. generally my one-shots are rather short and sweet). i wrote this about a month ago while driving home from a public reading of fiction and poetry made by my art school in which i am in for creative writing. it was good inspired work and i really like this, despite how short and unresolved the conflict is in this piece.

i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

paper beats rock

by "john"

Drops of crystalline water raced against the windows, entrancing the sky blue irises of a man with a small line for a mouth; blank, lifeless.

All was quiet inside the interior of the night colored 60s muscle car, except for the static sound of a constant weeping sky and the grumbling of a car engine.

The headlights glared down on the never-ending highway, baring its teeth and illuminating a sliver of the pavement, offerng no light to the end of the road. The engine kept on snarling, intimidating the heaps of oil-stained grass and road kill.

A voice from the passenger broke the silence, startling the driver with rusty sunken cheekbones and green eyes with a story to tell.

“Dean, we've been driving since dawn. Let's find a place to stop and rest.”

The driver opened his mouth, stuttering but no words coming out. His lip shivered like a child's when it was left out in the cold.

“N-no. Do you even see any exit or sign of life on this road? We may as well drive through the night.” His voice sounded more aggravated then he meant to sound, and he cursed under his breath for doing so.

“Alright. I'm sorry for asking.” The passenger flinched.

Tension crackled between the two like lightning during a summer storm, and Dean was thwarted with thoughts, close to bursting from everything and nothing, trying to shake off the nagging of an invisible spider on his shoulder, creeping its fangs forward and taunting him, unsure of whether to bite down or not.

There it was, the fear. The aching need to run and hide from the bond about to break; the trust that was too much to swallow.

And then he brought it to reality. He shoved it forward, letting his words carefully unravel, nervous not to tangle the syllables.

“Cas, we have to talk, okay. We... We're losing each other. We are falling apart and we need to stop... We need to stop ignoring the elephant in the room.”

Castiel was silent, his eyebrows scrunched together and furrowing his brow, “Wait, Dean. There's not a large mammal in the car, I don't understand.”

“It's a figure of speech, Cas. It means there's something here that's big and needs to be removed.”

“Oh.” And then there was silence.

It was obvious the fruit of talk was still sour. The wound still too tender to undress. The two let the long night before them unfold into awkwardness and quickly exchanged glances.

But what was the point of talk when the two adults acted like children? They left their business ties at home and chose to dress in hand-me-down clothes, keeping their caps on indoors.

They let the angst of high school take over them, holding grudges and settling issues on a three-round game of rock, paper, scissors. Scissors beats paper, rock beats scissors, but paper beats rock. It goes on and on and on and on.