(Untitled)

[wegotwork]

Sam Winchester is behind the bar at the Luna, cutting up a series of lemons to garnish various drinks with. One thing the plagues have been good for is business. He's not about to complain, since that's the only source of money he and Dean have coming in, but he's still trying to wrap his hand around everything that's happened and what it all

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[thehandsomeone]

Dean doesn't have to work tonight, but at some point he might stop over at the bar, just to get on Sam's nerves or whatever it is he does. For now, though, he's roaming the halls of the Conrad, thinking about everything that's happened over the past few weeks.

It's kind of like going out for fresh air, except, Chicago being in the state that it is, this way seems less dangerous. So he's just walking, whatever, when he catches the scent of fresh paint from one of the rooms. The door's half open, and he stops when he sees a familiar face.

"Hey, Fred," he says. "You doing some redecorating?"

[doneanddoner]

Fred's got a decent half of the wall covered over in a fresh coat of paint by the time she sees someone stopping outside the room.

Well, she doesn't see him so much as spot some movement out of the corner of her eye, but still, it's enough to get her attention so she's not so startled when he actually talks to her.

"Oh. Hey, Dean."

She smiles brightly.

"Yeah. Just thought it was a good time for a change, y'know, after what's happened."

[thehandsomeone]

"Right."

Dean's pretty sure she means the plagues, but this being Chicago, he guesses she could mean any number of things.

He smiles back, even as he gazes at what has yet to be painted over.

"You seem like you made it out okay, yeah?"

[doneanddoner]

"'Bout as okay as anyone who made it out alive did, I s'pose."

She dips the roller into the paint, and with another swipe, another series of numbers vanishes under the mint green color.

"You and Sam are doin' okay?"

[thehandsomeone]

"Right," Dean says again. "That's good."

"Okay as ever," he says, shrugging. They both made it out just fine, sure, but Dean's pretty sure the whole final plague thing made him even less okay with being away from Sam for more than a few hours at a time. 'Cause what Dean really needed was more codependency.

"Going to see him pretty soon, actually," he adds. "We both work over at the Luna Bar, but I got the night off."

[doneanddoner]

"So Sam's workin', I presume?"

She turns away from the wall to avoid paint fumes by default, but also to continue to face Dean during their conversation. The dripping roller's placed down to avoid getting any part of the uncovered carpet wet.

"I haven't had as much luck with findin' a job," she admits.

[thehandsomeone]

"Sure is," Dean agrees.

"That's too bad," Dean says. "Sam and me pretty much stumbled into this one." Almost literally, at that. "You got any special skills?"

Then he gestures to the wall, curiousity getting the better of him. It's all symbols and numbers and it looks, he's not gonna lie, a little crazy. "So what's all this?"