into the breach with me, dear friends. i got that job as a canvass director for senator obama, and went door-to-door for four hours yesterday. this is some crazy stuff! there are people who see fresh-faced youngsters with clipboards and say, "honey, give these kids some money," before we can even get into the spiel, and other people who yell at
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Ahahaha. Too perfect.
Dean nods his head with exaggerated care, and then weaves both hands over his stomach and sucks in his gut, slackens his jaw and hollows his cheeks and lets his eyes roll back so he looks gaunt and fragile.
I'm kind of loving mute Dean.
Their waitress from yesterday sends them a filthy look when they walk in, and Sam elbows Dean, but Dean misses it because Dean's oblivious and only sees what he wants.
I think you just distilled Dean down to his essence. Haha.
"You remember how she asked us to mind her flowers as we were leaving?"
Dean nods again, but it's jerky and uncertain and Sam knows he doesn't remember any such thing.
Sam sighs. "Dean. Did you mind the flowers when we went around back?"
Dean's face is blank for a moment, and then it washes over dark and furious.
Haha, oh Dean.
Sam is every mother's dream. By all means, invite him and his ( ... )
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I especially enjoyed the way Dean was communicating without words. And the writing on skin part was a great way to end the story.
Thanks for sharing : )
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glad you liked it; i sense that we are winning you over to the evils of the 'cest, which makes me happy as dean with candy.
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I think you miiight be right! (Nooooo not the Wincest!) I've been reading a lot of thought-provoking Wincest meta recently. This was a particularly "eye opening" one.
Also, what is the state of the Munson/Chavez? :P
(Also I was very amused people kept mistakenly replying to my comment. Ha.)
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(i might have started another spn fic instead.)
dude! it's not my fault! it's all DEAN WINCHESTER'S FAULT.
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Nooo! Tell Dean he has to share!
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