That will make things more awkward. But Meg steps forward anyways.*
Hey Sam I need to talk to you and I promise it isn't to yell at you again so Dean could you not glare at me but maybe give us a minute s'il vous plait?
His hair's still wet, and there's a towel draped around his neck, but Sam makes it to the door fast.
"No that's okay!" he breaks in, hastily. Very hastily. "Feel free to stick around, man. I'm sure whatever Meg's got to say can be said to both of us, right Meg?"
He catches his brother's eye, then flicks a pointed glance at Dean's jacket pocket, the one where the bottle with the last bit of perfume is.
- no, *Meg says, rather apologetically, and does her very best to look small and harmless.*
It sort of can't. I mean it's sort of private. - not for me. For a friend. If it was just me it would be really fine, but it isn't, so - but I promise my motives are all very selfless!
"No problem. Dean's good at keeping secrets, aren't you, Dean? So there's nothing to worry about."
Except for whatever it is that Meg's there to talk to him about, but there's only one way to find that out. Sam steps to the side and waves her into the room.
There's another open bed, as well as a couple of chairs pushed in at a desk. Sam snags one of these, turning it around backwards so that he can straddle it.
Dieu, *Meg says, rather frustrated,* what are you, worried I'll jump him or something?
*She shakes her head, and raises her hands to push long blonde hair back from her face.* This is going to be awkward enough as it - I mean, I'm here to make sure somebody doesn't get their heart crushed into tiny smithereens, all right? Satisfied?
Look, *she bursts out, finally,* you've got a responsibility, all right? It's at least in part due to you that he's alone now, and if he's imprinted - it's not fair if you're just going to, to abandon him. Even if you're not interested in him like that.
"Dude, I cannot believe you're so freaking worried about saving money. It's not like room service here's that expensive."
By the time he's finished that sentence, the hall is beginning to smell faintly floral.
It's the granny kind of floral, even.
Dean's kinda stopped noticing it. Frickin' love juice shit.
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"So yeah, we've got to watch it, don't you get that?"
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- and Dean.
(And . . . a flower monster?)
That will make things more awkward. But Meg steps forward anyways.*
Hey Sam I need to talk to you and I promise it isn't to yell at you again so Dean could you not glare at me but maybe give us a minute s'il vous plait?
*Charming smile.*
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Dean looks a little taken aback for a second.
"I was gonna go get some food, so if you--"
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"No that's okay!" he breaks in, hastily. Very hastily. "Feel free to stick around, man. I'm sure whatever Meg's got to say can be said to both of us, right Meg?"
He catches his brother's eye, then flicks a pointed glance at Dean's jacket pocket, the one where the bottle with the last bit of perfume is.
Just in case.
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It sort of can't. I mean it's sort of private. - not for me. For a friend. If it was just me it would be really fine, but it isn't, so - but I promise my motives are all very selfless!
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Dean's giving Meg a once-over, now, frowning.
"Sure. Your friend. Uh. Right."
It's not that he doesn't believe her, just--
He doesn't believe her.
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Except for whatever it is that Meg's there to talk to him about, but there's only one way to find that out. Sam steps to the side and waves her into the room.
"So-- come on in."
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Step into my parlor, much?
But she ducks her head in a nod and accepts the invitation, stepping into the room.*
It's not that - I mean, vraiment, it's not that I'm worried that he'll gossip or anything. Only that -
*She turns to give Dean a rather quelling look.*
It's something that it's really important that it be taken seriously. For my friend.
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"I'm not that much of an asshole, Meg."
Um.
Yeah.
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There's another open bed, as well as a couple of chairs pushed in at a desk. Sam snags one of these, turning it around backwards so that he can straddle it.
"What's up?"
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*She shakes her head, and raises her hands to push long blonde hair back from her face.* This is going to be awkward enough as it - I mean, I'm here to make sure somebody doesn't get their heart crushed into tiny smithereens, all right? Satisfied?
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Dean shrugs, rucking up the ugly-ass cover on the bed.
"Been kind of a day for it, you know?"
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Sam sounds concerned, and has leaned forward on the back of the chair, watching her.
"I mean, believe me Dean's got a point there, but --
Anyway, what's got you so worried?"
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Look, *she bursts out, finally,* you've got a responsibility, all right? It's at least in part due to you that he's alone now, and if he's imprinted - it's not fair if you're just going to, to abandon him. Even if you're not interested in him like that.
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Dean turns his head to look at Sam, one eyebrow going up.
"You been flirting with guys behind my back? Sam, I'm ashamed of you."
Dude, Dean would've been looking for guys to push him towards, too.
Coulda made his job twice as easy.
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