(no subject)
My weekend thus far
Friday night, bed @ 1am. Saturday morning, awake @ 4am and up @ 4:24. Drive parents to airport. 5am, driving back from airport. On the way back from the airport, my brother and I were discussing the new season of Supernatural which lead to the following exchange...
Me: So, like, last season was kinda partly about how Dean was all pissy 'cause Sam was with Ruby all the time and not telling him shit so maybe then this season - obviously, the season will be about them learning to be bros again - but maybe it will be Sam getting all jealous 'cause Dean doesn't trust him the same and 'cause he and Castiel are hanging all the time and like, like...
Him: Bro-in' it up?
Me: Yeah!
Him: All fist pound-age an' shit?
Me: Yeah, an', like, watching SportsCenter and things like that.
Him: And Sam's left out.
Me: Yeah, Sam's all, like, Sad Puppy 'cause Dean's supposed to be his bro. But Castiel an' Dean are having bro-time 'cause Dean's all betrayed.
Which lead to this little mental image on my part:
The sight that greeted Sam when he opened the hotel room door was not entirely unexpected at this point but that did not make it hurt any less.
Sitting next to each other on the couch were Dean and Castiel, both with their feet up on the coffee table although the angel's posture was peculiarly rigid as though he was entirely unfamiliar with slouching. On the screen in front of them, David Naughton and a decomposing Griffin Dunne were watching two Brits grope each other and writhe around. "So you see, Cas," Dean was explaining, "The porn that appears in all of the ads is a movie-within-a-movie. Y'know, postmodern like when Chuck writes about himself writing his book within his book."
"I see," replied the angel, not really looking at the screen but instead seemingly deep in concentration over the chicken wing he held gingerly between two fingers.
"You're supposed to eat it, Cas," Dean says, reaching over.
"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Sam shrieks from the doorway. Dean and Castiel's heads both snap up, Dean's hand frozen on Castiel's wrist. Sam looked at the wrist as though he could set it ablaze with his thoughts. "I don't believe it, Dean! Hot wings? An American Werewolf in London? How COULD you?! Those are supposed to be OUR things. OUR special GUY TIME things! I can't believe you would do this to me!"
"You weren't around!" Dean shouted back, leaping to his feet. "Just like you're ALWAYS not around!"
Sam resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. "I was at the store, Dean. I told you where I was going. Somebody has to do the shopping around here!"
"Oh, poor, suffering Sammy," Dean sneers.
Castiel set down his chicken wing. "Uh, Dean, perhaps I should go."
"Perhaps you should," growled Sam.
"No, Cas, you don't have to leave. Sammy's just being a little bitch," Dean handed Castiel another hot wing, "Here, eat."
"Is that what this is, Dean?" Sam huffed. "You'd rather have some angel to hang around than me? Is that it? Little brother accidentally starts the apocalypse WITH THE BEST OF INTENTIONS and so you have to run off and find yourself an obedient little angel to take his place? What about free will, Dean?"
...aaaaaand that's as far as I let that train of thought go.
And so then I crash around 7:40pm last night, woke around 4-something, then crashed again until sometime around 9:40, 9:45. Now I'm still feeling tired and ugh and on top of it I'm STILL sick (the meds from Dr. Douchebag did nothing) so I've gotta go to the doc again tomorrow and get a for reals diagnosis and some meds that will actually help.
Friday night, bed @ 1am. Saturday morning, awake @ 4am and up @ 4:24. Drive parents to airport. 5am, driving back from airport. On the way back from the airport, my brother and I were discussing the new season of Supernatural which lead to the following exchange...
Me: So, like, last season was kinda partly about how Dean was all pissy 'cause Sam was with Ruby all the time and not telling him shit so maybe then this season - obviously, the season will be about them learning to be bros again - but maybe it will be Sam getting all jealous 'cause Dean doesn't trust him the same and 'cause he and Castiel are hanging all the time and like, like...
Him: Bro-in' it up?
Me: Yeah!
Him: All fist pound-age an' shit?
Me: Yeah, an', like, watching SportsCenter and things like that.
Him: And Sam's left out.
Me: Yeah, Sam's all, like, Sad Puppy 'cause Dean's supposed to be his bro. But Castiel an' Dean are having bro-time 'cause Dean's all betrayed.
Which lead to this little mental image on my part:
The sight that greeted Sam when he opened the hotel room door was not entirely unexpected at this point but that did not make it hurt any less.
Sitting next to each other on the couch were Dean and Castiel, both with their feet up on the coffee table although the angel's posture was peculiarly rigid as though he was entirely unfamiliar with slouching. On the screen in front of them, David Naughton and a decomposing Griffin Dunne were watching two Brits grope each other and writhe around. "So you see, Cas," Dean was explaining, "The porn that appears in all of the ads is a movie-within-a-movie. Y'know, postmodern like when Chuck writes about himself writing his book within his book."
"I see," replied the angel, not really looking at the screen but instead seemingly deep in concentration over the chicken wing he held gingerly between two fingers.
"You're supposed to eat it, Cas," Dean says, reaching over.
"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Sam shrieks from the doorway. Dean and Castiel's heads both snap up, Dean's hand frozen on Castiel's wrist. Sam looked at the wrist as though he could set it ablaze with his thoughts. "I don't believe it, Dean! Hot wings? An American Werewolf in London? How COULD you?! Those are supposed to be OUR things. OUR special GUY TIME things! I can't believe you would do this to me!"
"You weren't around!" Dean shouted back, leaping to his feet. "Just like you're ALWAYS not around!"
Sam resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. "I was at the store, Dean. I told you where I was going. Somebody has to do the shopping around here!"
"Oh, poor, suffering Sammy," Dean sneers.
Castiel set down his chicken wing. "Uh, Dean, perhaps I should go."
"Perhaps you should," growled Sam.
"No, Cas, you don't have to leave. Sammy's just being a little bitch," Dean handed Castiel another hot wing, "Here, eat."
"Is that what this is, Dean?" Sam huffed. "You'd rather have some angel to hang around than me? Is that it? Little brother accidentally starts the apocalypse WITH THE BEST OF INTENTIONS and so you have to run off and find yourself an obedient little angel to take his place? What about free will, Dean?"
...aaaaaand that's as far as I let that train of thought go.
And so then I crash around 7:40pm last night, woke around 4-something, then crashed again until sometime around 9:40, 9:45. Now I'm still feeling tired and ugh and on top of it I'm STILL sick (the meds from Dr. Douchebag did nothing) so I've gotta go to the doc again tomorrow and get a for reals diagnosis and some meds that will actually help.