More than Magic

[lovestheimpala]

Once upon a time, there was a species of supernatural beings who liked to watch over the ones with deep desires in their hearts. If they were good, they would grant them wishes, and help them on the way to finding true love and happiness.

In the old days, they were so loved and revered that stories would be told of them. But the fairy godmothers, as they were known amongst those who held them dear, grew to be more and more presumptuous about the wishes of their wards. In short, they got cocky and more and more of the granted wishes backfired. It got so bad that people stopped loving them, stopped telling stories about them, and when they finally stopped making wishes to them the species started die out. Without the wishes giving them the power, there was nothing to keep them in existence.

But of course, some stories alive and there was always the occasional wishes dropping in from little children that had yet to stop believing, so a few stayed a live. A handful at first, then only a couple, and finally just the one.

The very last of the fairy godmothers is a mess to behold.

He's fading, there's no doubt of that, and his once gloriously sparkling gown hangs in tatters. His beautiful mane of silver and cream has lost all luster and is falling out by the handfuls. His wings barely function anymore, and he's generally had one too many hits of Mumbo Jamma Juice. Bothering with wishes isn't really a thing anymore. Occasionally, he will come across something that catches his attention enough that he uses the last drops of his power to try to grant it.

Sadly, he rarely gets it right.

Like when he comes across this semi-young hunter with a plethora of the most sore and sad wishes in his scarred and broken heart. The hidden longing for love and family and home, reminds the fairy godmother so much of the princesses he used to cater to thousands of years ago, that he can't resist the need to want to bring just those things to the hunter.

Except, again he gets it wrong. He gets those wishes all garbled up and can't differentiate between love and home and safety, and he thinks the best thing he can do for this one called Dean is to turn his beloved car into a human. And the face the old fairy picks, is the first one he can pluck out of what lies in Dean's heart.

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[lovestheimpala]

While Baby battles the concept of undressing, Dean does as requested and wipes up the mess around the toilet and then goes over everything with bleach-soaked paper towels. That's good enough in his book, and he's busy scrubbing and double-scrubbing his hands clean when Baby finally finishes.

He has to be excused when he turns to look and finds a very familiar sight that he's all sorts of hooked on. He clears his throat and looks away, nodding and coughing out a "Y-yeah. That's right. Now you can turn the water on."

Oh man, he really shouldn't look, but his eyes are already sneaking glances.

[james_kirk]

Baby rights himself, keeping hold of the shower wall when he realizes the floor is a bit slippery, and then he turns the water back on. He was getting cold there, he realizes, when the warm water hits him and feels so very nice.

"Now I can clean?" He holds out the loofah in question. Obviously, Dean is supposed to be washing him, but then he scrunches his face up because he knows he's forgetting something. "Soap?" He doesn't see any bottles that look right.

[lovestheimpala]

Is it a bad thing that he fully and instantly gets why Baby is expecting him to wash him?

Of course that's what the Impala would expect. That's what Dean's done for... as long as he can remember. Since before he was old enough to reach up to the hood, he's been cleaning and polishing and loving on that car.

But it's because he's drunk that he nods and slips out of his shirt and jeans so he can step into the shower and actually help clean him.

"We need to find you some soap that smells right." Something with new car scent, or something. Something that smells like leather and motor oil and metal.

[james_kirk]

Baby doesn't think there's anything weird about Dean taking his clothes off. He's seen Dean naked before. "Smells right? Why?" Baby doesn't think he needs to smell like anything. Or has that always been something Dean's done?

He's never been able to smell things before. He doesn't know what the soap used to smell like.

He doesn't know what Dean smells like, either, so he turns around and leans in, pressing his nose against Dean's shoulder while he sniffs. "Huh." Then he sniffs again, trying to commit that smell to memory so he doesn't forget.

[lovestheimpala]

"Hey hey, don't get weird on me," he says and rests his hand on Baby's chest to gently nudge him back a little.

"You can't just stick your nose on people and smell them. Dogs do that. Not people. You might get in trouble if you do that to people."

"Now stand still," he adds as he lathers up that loofah and starts scrubbing Baby clean in much the same circular motion he'd use if he was soaping up the car.

He'll work his way all over him, and take the chance to really look at this body and make sure it's fully human, and see if it's really FDR's body or not.

Which is not as easy as it should be, because the vain bastard won't let there be a mark on his skin- Still, there's that one little dent in the flawless veneer that Baby should have if he's a true copy. That's what Dean keeps an eye out for as he crouches down to do the car's legs.

[james_kirk]

Baby doesn't move unless instructed. It's not as if he moved while being washed before. This time, though, it feels much nicer. Not that it wasn't nice before, but now there's the light scratching of the loofah and the smell of the soap and the warmth of the water.

He can sense all of these things and it makes him rumble happily, closing his eyes to rest them while Dean gets him all washed up, shiny and new. "You smell nice," he says after a while. His brain tells him that if anything is going to smell nice, it would be Dean.

[lovestheimpala]

There's a few thoughts going through Dean's head once he has finished cleaning Baby and he steps out to get a towel for him.

First of all, that's definitely FDR's body. Whoever did this didn't just give the Impala a familiar face, but copy pasted a whole person, and Dean's a little worried as to why.

Secondly, he's thinking that he definitely and abso-freaking-lutely needs to drag Frank into the shower at some point and give him a once over like this, because that crap was a little kinky and he's actually really proud of himself for managing to stay calm and not get... worked up about it.

"Turn the water off before you step out," Dean says to Baby and holds the towel open for him so he can dry him off. And once he's dry, there's not a single second where he stops to question the fact that he instantly reaches for the lotion. He never washes him without following with a coat of wax. That dulls the shine.

[james_kirk]

Yep. There's definitely a happy rumble coming out of him. He's always liked it when Dean pays attention to him, and now that he can really feel all of it, he's even happier.

He turns off the water and comes out to the towel, contentedly letting Dean dry him off. This is part of the ritual. They've done this a million times before, so he's also thoroughly expecting the lotion.

"Does it smell right?" He doesn't know if Dean has a specific smell in mind for him. What does a car smell like? He wouldn't know. He was sleeping the whole time he was in the trunk.

[lovestheimpala]

"Nope," is all he says. He has to focus a little when he massages that lotion in all over a body that his hands are getting to know so damn well. Just so he doesn't get distracted and have too much fun with it.

And again he's kinda proud of himself for not reacting. Not that he doesn't have an endless arsenal of dick withering thoughts to draw from when need be...

With the Impala cleaned and "waxed", Dean wraps him in a guest robe, and then has the clarity to take off his own wet boxers and wrap a towel around his waist before leaving the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go get you some clothes," he explains before he goes in search of FDR. There's no way he would raid the guy's closet without asking first. He's not stupid.

But he is stupid enough to come up behind the angry lion and wrap his arms around his waist.

[bigvessel]

He's busy fixing his hair in the mirror, and for all the trembling anger he had displayed earlier, he's all calm and collected now. To the point there's only a soft smirk when he spots Dean's reflection in the window and he doesn't stop him from wrapping his arms around his toweled waist.

"Guess you already showered." He muttered, never one to miss the blatantly obvious. "Bathroom still in one piece?"

[james_kirk]

Baby lingers behind. He's gotten a little distracted. He's back to looking at himself in the mirror, and now that comes with touching his skin. It's so soft now, but it also feels weird. Is that because his fingers are all wrinkly?

It's also weird that he looks like Frank. Why does he look like Frank? Did Frank turn him into a human? Why would Frank do that?

He shuffles around in the bathroom after his existential quandary, just looking at the various things in it. So many glove compartments in here and Baby's going to root through every one of them.

[lovestheimpala]

"Nah. He needed help washing, so I gave him a soap-and-wax job like always. Didn't wanna get my pants wet."

He's very relieved that FDR seems to be in a better mood, and he's a little dizzy so he rests his head on the back of the other one's shoulder.

"I looked him over. It's definitely a true replica. He's even got-" Ahem. Nevermind that bit. "Anyway, he needs some clothes and I thought I'd ask before raiding her majesty's closet."

[bigvessel]

There's an easy difference between actually being in a better mood and pretending to be in one, and he's had enough alone time to settle into the second one. Which is the only reason there's nothing more than a twitch of a brow when Dean tells him he just lotioned up some naked guy, and examined him closely enough to confirm they're xerox copies. And saying its 'just his car' doesn't help at all, because he knows how Dean feels about his car.

But for now he's done being riled up about it.

"Yeah. Just stay away from the suits." Like he even needs to say that.

[lovestheimpala]

"Right. Like I'd put one of your suits on a guy who hasn't yet understood the concept of peeing. We could put you in one of those leather pants, though. And the jacket, too. That would look amazing..." Dean lets out a low whistle against FDR's skin.

[bigvessel]

His lip twitches downward, and for just a brief second he looks furious, but then it's gone with a shrug of his shoulders. "I've got some sweats in the dresser. Better hurry before he starts drinking toilet cleaner in your absence."

[lovestheimpala]

It's shitty luck that just as that infuriated look flashes over FDR's face, Dean is looking at him in the mirror to see what the reaction to his suggestion is.

So of course he's not gonna let it go. "What's that look about?"

[bigvessel]

"What look?" It's knee-jerk, to deny it ever existing in the first place, and suddenly Dean's arms around his waist feels more like a weight than a comfort, just because he knows how these moments go. So he slides out of it before Dean can hold him still and demand an honest answer.

"I'll go see what I've got." He's not retreating. He's just...diverting and he heads over to the dresser himself to dig through casual t-shirts and sweat pants.

[lovestheimpala]

He lets FDR physically escape, but he follows and has no plans of letting this go. He's got every understanding that some times, some things are best left unquestioned.. but this is not one of those times.

"That look on you got. Like for a second you were contemplating killing me, and Baby, and the whole block. That look. What was that about?"

[bigvessel]

"He peed on my stuff, Dean. I'll get over it." And he threw the shirt in Dean's face before the black sweat pants followed. "You should grab something to wear too. You do realize you're literally standing around in soggy britches, right?"

Just. Pointing that out.

[lovestheimpala]

"That's such a load of crap," Dean says and grabs the shirt, and then the sweat pants. "And I'm not. I took my boxers off. I wouldn't be stupid enough to go dripping all over your apartment and piss you off even more. See?" He takes the towel off and throws it at FDR to prove that he is indeed naked and dry.

"Now talk to me."

[bigvessel]

Well, that's a dirty tactic and he stares at the nude man in front of him with an appreciative glance that hasn't faded since they started consistently fucking.

But he shakes his head and takes his time to fold up the towel in silence.

"There's nothing to talk about." And he shoots Dean a look that warns him to drop it. That annoying persistence isn't going to get him anywhere this time.

[lovestheimpala]

And now that nude man is blocking the way out of the closet.

"There's something to talk about because you're being so stubborn about it. And you're making me feel like it's my fault, so I think I got a right to know what I did to piss you off so bad."

[bigvessel]

"It's not your fault." And there's some truth to that. Mostly. He's still pretty sure Dean is to blame for his car turning into an image of him, but if it is, Dean is good at playing ignorant.

"Now, get out of the way, before I make you."

Pick your battles, Dean. This is a losing one.

[lovestheimpala]

"You're getting pretty aggressive for someone who's not pissed at me," Dean says, clearly not believing that for a second. But still, he shrugs and moves out of the way to go get himself a pair of boxers. He might not keep clothes here, but he knows where to find what he needs and he's got no issues helping himself.

"If you feel like cutting the crap at some point, you know I'm always willing to listen."

[bigvessel]

"It's the situation, not you." he clarifies, and that's ALL he's clarifying before he grabs his own suit on the way out of the closet and starts to dress himself, even if his eyes linger on the way Dean easily moves around his closet, aware of where everything is.

When had he gotten so damn familiar with all of his stuff?

"What's the next move, anyway?"

Yeah, ignoring that open door policy, thanks.