Warning: if you feel offended by gay sex, this is not the story for you.
This bar would be as good as any other. The fact that there was a motel just nearby only confirmed Dean Winchester in his decision to stay here and have a few drinks.
He parked the Impala in the dark, gravelly area behind the uninviting building and drew in a deep breath, rubbing his dry, itching eyes. His shoulders, along with the rest of his body, were tense and he was tired. Once again, he was in search for Sam and he had been on the road for numerous hours too long. If he was honest, all their lives it had been one brother in search for the other, rescuing each other out of the hands of demons, devils or otherworldly entities, bargaining for their lives with their souls or tricking or killing their butts out of dangerous situations.
Rare were the moments of complete peace and rest, and though he always claimed otherwise, it was those Dean longed for most.
So here he was, driving through the country to find Sammy, his little brother, the only one who gave him stability in this ever-changing world and after the deaths of many, the only one he had left.
I’ve been thinking about Magnus (again) and felt the need to put him into a peaceful surrounding… Which ended up as a free morning at home enjoying a cup of coffee and solving quizzes (Detective Martinsson is on the case!) while sharing a spot in the sun with Kurt, the cactus. ;)
Roberta Modin sat taping on her iPhone case in irritation as she watched the new, pretty secretary at the police station. The woman looked to be in her thirties and had dark black hair pulled up in a bun. It wasn’t Ebba, the one she met when she had been arrested. Either they worked shifts or Ebba had left for some reason or other. Maybe it was simply because the policemen wanted a pretty lady to gawk at. She thought of Detective Wallander, the man that had called her in. He might gawk, but he’d be polite about it… Could a person be polite when staring at someone?
She shook her head, nope, probably not. She had impolitely starred at that one detective’s head of curls, when she told her parents about how she had been arrested, she had called him “noodle head” (and it wasn’t just because his name escaped her memory). Despite being a holding cell for over twenty four hours and trying to find some entertainment, she never learned any of the officers’ names except for Wallander, Ebba, and the curly-haired man whose name started with an ’M’- Martinsson, that’s his name. She convinced herself that it was because they were afraid she’d steal their identities.
Robbie started tapping out “Lights” by Ellie Goulding onto her phone case and the secretary glared at her, so she stopped. Getting yelled in police station would only make her reputation at the station even worse- Not that she really cared (okay, maybe she did…a little). She pushed her glasses up her nose and scanned over the little waiting area, watching for Wallander. He had specifically requested that she come and help on a case. It made her self-esteem soar through the roof and she felt confident as she sat there waiting. When she was just about to continue tapping, the curly-haired Detective Martinsson appeared and since she was the only one in the room, she stood up and gave him a small smile. The last time she had seen him, he had probably saved her life as well as Wallander’s.
“I’m Roberta Modin, the girl Detective Wallander requested.” She picked up her two computer bags so that one was in each hand. They had already met before, so she assumed they wouldn’t have to shake hands.