7x18 Comment-fic Meme
Hello! lazy-daze and I have decided that the time for comment-fic is now. In this past episode, Sam and Dean get shwasted Dean says, "I miss these talks." However, we do not see said talk on-screen.
AND THUS, THE INCEPTION OF:
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AND THUS, THE INCEPTION OF:
( Read more... )
It is, which is why Dean keeps it in his wallet. Duh.
It is ten years old, and obviously well-thumbed, the size of a playing card, the jack of hearts. Dean has lost everything in life at some point, but never his wallet. It's nothing but a stack of fakes - fake IDs and all ill-earned money - so it is only just, only poetic Sam would call it, probably, that the picture Garth pulls out of Dean's wallet is of his brother wearing a shocking shade of lipstick.
“You can't just-“ Dean says. Because what guy grabs another guy's wallet off the counter and looks at everything?
But it's already too late. Dean watches, sidelong, as Garth examines the photo. He whistles and Dean rubs a hand over his mouth and says, “Yeah, well.” wondering how good Garth really is.
“Damn, she's got a pretty smile. Optimism.”
“Yep,” Dean grits out. “A real dreamer.”
He makes an attempt to grab the photo but Garth holds it casually out of reach. He leans against the center island, and meets Dean's eyes with an earnest quality that is very misplaced in this situation. Dean wants to tell him, you don't wanna know, but he doesn't say anything, and Garth gives him a supportive hand to the arm. “Hey, man. Don't gotta be ashamed. I know how it is.” Dean pulls his arm away, slowly. Garth smiles, “You know, I've got a special-“
“Yes, special lady friend, I know, Jesus.” He feels an itch under his skin and a low-grade headache building at his temples. Sam is taking a long time, and now this. “Can I have my picture back?”
“Life on the road,” Garth says in wistful tones, like they're not just living the grind, they're turning it to legend. “Yeah, I know how it is. Your girl, waiting for you back at the old homestead. Well, busy with her own thing - twins and the CIA, in my case - but you make it back there every other month and she's real happy to see you.” He sighs, clutching the picture to his chest. Dean can't tell if he's fucking with him.
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“So,” says Garth. “This girl. You guys the real thing?”
“Gimme that.”
Dean grabs for the picture but Garth holds it out of his way. “Ah ah ah-“ he smiles. “Something tells me, you don't do bonding too often. Just spill. Just you and me, buddy.”
“You're right.”
“Ha!”
“No,” Dean rolls his eyes. “You're right that I don't wanna talk about it.”
“Not good enough, bro. And imagine if she heard you now, not able to admit it.”
Dean feels somewhat cowed. Sam doesn't really give a shit about this stuff, but Dean occasionally wants to give him nice things, like hair ties or a public declaration, out of earshot of course.
“Okay, all right,” he says. “We're the real deal.”
“Aw!”
“Shut up.” Dean gets the picture this time, and experiences an alarming level of panic when there's some tug, and he thinks it might rip. But it doesn't tear, it's survived this long. He wedges it back in place, behind his fake coffee stamp card. He shoves his wallet back in his pocket, as deep as it will go. Never leaving it out again.
“Now that wasn't so hard,” Garth says. “You gotta open up. Feel okay about this. This job might mess you up for life if you let it. You start to get all secretive about everything, and it's easy to feel like your whole life is shameful. And believe me, chicks do not want you to be ashamed of them.”
“Look, Garth. I appreciate it, I really do. And you're a great guy. Great hunter, even- clumsy, yet surprisingly effective.”
“Thank you.”
“But I don't do this.” He gestures between them. “I don't talk about- Well, I just don't do heart to hearts.”
“Not even with Sam?”
Dean's smile is all chagrin. “Well that's a different story.”
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“Agent,” Dean nods.
“Oh my-” Garth says.
Dean sends him a bland look. “Garth and I were just talking girls, weren't we, Garth?”
Garth says, “Sure....”
Sam snorts, like the idea is completely laughable, which Dean could resent. Instead, he watches Sam take off his suit jacket, then unbutton his shirt and fold it as he steps over to their bags. Dean watches him bend over.
Garth watches him watching, until Sam says, “Miss me or something?”
“Miss you? I'm not a girl, dude.”
Garth says, “Okay then!” with an edge of something in his voice. “You know, how about you two go get a Crème brûlée, and leave me to my hot tub.”
“Really?” Sam says. “Crème brûlée? It's ten at night.”
“It's the little things,” Garth tells him.
Dean stands. “Come on Sam, don't deny a man his pleasure. Date with the hot tub, don't judge.”
“Consider them both dates, then.” Garth has a look in his eye that he means business, like he'll keep talking if Dean doesn't beat it.
“Fine,” Dean says.
They step out, Sam in a t-shirt and pulling on a pink flannel over it. He looks at Dean as he buttons and asks, “What's his problem?”
Dean shrugs. “Drowning his sorrows.”
Sam throws an arm around his shoulders and tugs Dean to him. Dean suffers a kiss to the cheek but swoons against Sam's side rather shamelessly.
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GARTH KNOWSSSSSSS
AND HE DON'T CARE
LOVE IT
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Love your Garth-voice, very IC. This made me grin the whole way through.
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Also. Shameless swooning. Dean, you little hussy ♥____♥
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