SORRY I'M LATE. *runs in with papers flying*surfaceshineMay 6 2011, 04:33:18 UTC
Dean noticed, too; he's basically going out of his mind trying to notice everything at once, mind you, but he had already known the time was getting close when it happened. And yeah, he knows the past couple of years have sucked ass like crazy - he was there, after all, more or less - and this one is weirder if not worse, so he's making extra special effort today to not be wrestling with his own problems
( ... )
THE PARTY'S STILL ON *hands out party hat*precognitioningMay 6 2011, 05:29:46 UTC
And he was kind of hoping it would pass by without incident and he could brood in peace. Oh, Sam.
Sam is at least halfway distracted, but he probably could have moved out of the way - doesn't this time, though, but he does toss a half-hearted grimace Dean's way. Because it's expected. On the other hand, his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead at the tone and the grin, because...that's different.
And the bleak and broody part wonders how long it's going to last.
He takes in the towels, though, and the garb, and says, "You're shitting me."
AWESOME. *blows noisemaker*surfaceshineMay 6 2011, 22:58:08 UTC
Dean's middle name is actually Incident, and he is shocked and offended that Sam would think he wouldn't happen today. And he is hellbent on happening, believe you us. He has locked the angst in a tiny, steel box and left it back in the room for the day. If he's lucky, maybe someone will steal it while they're gone.
Dean gives him a completely straight face in return for that comment, thank you very much.
"You gone deaf all of a sudden? C'mon - you won't melt, I promise." He claps his hands, loudly, like Dad used to do to drive his sleepy sons out of bed before dawn, then hikes a thumb over his shoulder towards the lake. "And I've already commandeered the biggest boat I could find, so we're good on that score."
He seems to have rediscovered his Force of Nature aspect. He's already turning to continue on his previous course.
WE'RE HAVING CAKE TOO.precognitioningMay 7 2011, 06:14:01 UTC
Yes, but what if it comes back. Not that he wouldn't appreciate that box being gone, and hey, if someone can wrestle Sam's away we will count it as a bonus.
Sam's expression is briefly pained, but he knows a Dean it's relatively futile to resist when he sees one, and it doesn't quite seem worth digging in his heels. Which doesn't mean he doesn't drag them.
He glances at what's left of his beer and has a few more swallows before setting it down and getting up, brushing off his jeans. "Not deaf, just incredulous," he comments, and makes a face. Dean does the weirdest things.
OMG WHAT NO PIE?surfaceshineMay 8 2011, 01:09:24 UTC
If it comes back, Dean will give it Stern Face and send it back to their room. He's serious, he means it, no angst. That doesn't always mean anything, but he's determined that today it will, goddammit.
"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the AWESOME that today is gonna be." Dean turns in place without breaking stride, walking backwards so he can pelt the towel he brought for Sam at his brother's face. "Unless you forgot how to swim when we got kidnapped to FaerieElvenLand, anyway. I tried to find some of those arm floaty things, but they don't make 'em in gigantor size."
SORRY DEAN, TYPIST PREFERS CAKEprecognitioningMay 9 2011, 01:31:50 UTC
Typist wonders what their interactions have been like post bar-not-fight. At any rate, though, Sam grabs the towel out of reflex and scowls, but it's a little less of a serious one and a little more 'Dean-cut-the-crap-and-be-serious.' Probably familiar. "I know how to swim, Dean. I thought we talked about this being a bad idea, though."
But it's his TRUDGE OF BROODING don't interrupt it.
WHAT ABOUT CHEESECAKE? IT'S LIKE A COMPROMISE.surfaceshineMay 10 2011, 01:25:40 UTC
Probably nearly nonexistent; but typist has a plan to backdate a post for that, just as soon as she has the goddamn energy, time, and motivation all at the same time. =/////
It is Dean's birthright to interrupt the Brood wherever he finds it, however he can. He counts the scowl as a win, just so you know Sam, and continues to walk backwards while he talks with his hands as much as his mouth.
"You talked, I listened. And now we're going swimming. Remember? I'll kick as much ass as I have to to keep you safe, pumpkin, so don't you worry." At last he turns back around, his voice carrying back over his shoulder in thoroughly pleased musing. "Do sharks even have asses? Well, anyway, we'll kick 'em. How's your Gaelic, just in case Nessie is here?"
CHEESECAKE IS GOOD. WE'LL ACCEPT CHEESECAKE.precognitioningMay 10 2011, 02:48:34 UTC
Awww. The typist is thinking of you with good time-management thoughts? Which she...doesn't have herself. Oh dear.
And yes, this is true. And he's actually pretty good at it, with a little bit of a grimace at 'pumpkin' because really. "No, they don't," he says, matter of factly, "And my Gaelic's at least better than yours, not that that's saying much."
Fingers crossed when they are not typing over here as well, then.
And oh great, says Sam, now his involuntary facial spasms are reasons for nicknames. Fabulous. (Ignore him, he'll just have to deal with a new one. The typist is delighted.)
Sam would also like to note that there's nothing wrong with liking swimming. The place that Dean has scoped out is also, Sam grudgingly admits, nice. Grudgingly. (It's a Sam bad mood, okay, if they went away easily...)
Hanging back a little still, though he's holding his towel over his shoulder rather than as uncomfortably as he was earlier, Sam raises both eyebrows at Dean, skeptical to the last. "If you get bit do I still have to pay up?" He drawls.
"Double if I kick its ass, yeah." Dean would argue that it's not just Sam's bad moods that linger like old farts - all the Winchesters have a knack for keeping up grudges and funks for years, though this seems to be more of a Sam and John specialty than Dean's (current funk notwithstanding - Hell is always an exception, dammit). Must be genetic. Dean grins his best Trust Me, I'm Trustworthy smile and drops his arms.
"And I came prepared." He tilts his head deliberately over towards the base of the rock, behind a smaller one and visible only once a person has come in to stand where Dean is, he has appropriated two six packs of beer and a stack of sandwiches. Because swimming also makes him hungry, and no outing would be complete without proper liquid emotional buffer.
Nice analogy, says Meta!Sam. And this is true. Ah, Winchesters. A family with character. We are not falling for that smile, Dean, we know better - although it does get another tiny mouth-twitch. "Right," he says, still dryly. "I'm betting on a kraken, then, but fair warning I don't have any cash."
Liquid emotional buffer is a necessity, especially since Sam left his back there. He examines the sandwiches and the rock and the beer and finally Dean, and says, "Regular boy scout today."
Still not on tune. It's okay, we'll get him there.
"Dude, not deep enough for a kraken; I'm hoping like dropsy for freaking selkies." Dean claps his hands again and rubs them together, ignoring Sam's less than impressed reaction to all of it. Even he has to admit it's kind of pathetic, but hey, he's working with what he has here. Never mind. Dean crosses to the beer, twists two out of the plastic rings and tosses one of them to Sam more gently than he did the towel.
"No, you were the boy scout. I'm just awesome." He pauses a moment to squint up at the sky, trying to figure out if it's really going to stay this nice for a prolonged period of time; anyone's guess, though, even if back home he would've said they were in the clear for the next twenty four hours. He drops his own towel onto the rock and finally, finally relents as he cracks open the beer.
"You don't have to go in if you don't want, I guess. But there's fuckall for shade out here, dude."
Sam considers that. "All right," he allows, "Selkies wouldn't be half bad." He was being a bit sarcastic about the kraken. Selkies would be more interesting anyway. And it's okay, Dean, it's not about your pathetic. Once he comes around, he'll be touched that you bothered at all.
Sam drops the towel to catch the beer and pops his open as well, has a quick gulp, and finds a tree to lean up against, eying Dean for a long moment.
Finally, he lets slip a tiny smile. No dimples, and it's a little weak, but it's still there. Apparently he's decided to at least make an effort. "Someone's got to make sure you don't run off after a selkie, right?"
Dean knows he was being sarcastic - he just chose to ignore it. Selective acknowledgment and all that. He's switched his attention to the lake itself while sipping his beer, dropping the song and dance for a couple moments and revealing the calculating side that few people know exists in him at all; finally he nods to himself, having apparently decided something, and grins back at Sam.
"Fuck yeah, selkies for the win. As if you could stop me." Purely joking, the grin says, as Dean reaches down to prop his beer against the rock and, after considering for a moment, removes the Colt from his waistband and wraps it in the towel.
Fair enough. Selective acknowledgment is a good strategy, isn't it! And we are curious what decision he came to, but for the moment Sam finds a place to set down his own beer. "You know what they say," he says, still a little too dryly, but it's a move in the right direction. "If you can't stop your brother from doing stupid things...join him. Or something like that."
Another one of those quick, almost wary smiles. Like it's not sure if it's welcome yet or not.
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Sam is at least halfway distracted, but he probably could have moved out of the way - doesn't this time, though, but he does toss a half-hearted grimace Dean's way. Because it's expected. On the other hand, his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead at the tone and the grin, because...that's different.
And the bleak and broody part wonders how long it's going to last.
He takes in the towels, though, and the garb, and says, "You're shitting me."
But his mouth almost twitches.
IT'S OKAY DEAN typists have lives, we understand.
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Dean gives him a completely straight face in return for that comment, thank you very much.
"You gone deaf all of a sudden? C'mon - you won't melt, I promise." He claps his hands, loudly, like Dad used to do to drive his sleepy sons out of bed before dawn, then hikes a thumb over his shoulder towards the lake. "And I've already commandeered the biggest boat I could find, so we're good on that score."
He seems to have rediscovered his Force of Nature aspect. He's already turning to continue on his previous course.
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Sam's expression is briefly pained, but he knows a Dean it's relatively futile to resist when he sees one, and it doesn't quite seem worth digging in his heels. Which doesn't mean he doesn't drag them.
He glances at what's left of his beer and has a few more swallows before setting it down and getting up, brushing off his jeans. "Not deaf, just incredulous," he comments, and makes a face. Dean does the weirdest things.
But he does start trudging after his brother.
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"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the AWESOME that today is gonna be." Dean turns in place without breaking stride, walking backwards so he can pelt the towel he brought for Sam at his brother's face. "Unless you forgot how to swim when we got kidnapped to FaerieElvenLand, anyway. I tried to find some of those arm floaty things, but they don't make 'em in gigantor size."
That'll teach Sam to trudge, by golly.
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But it's his TRUDGE OF BROODING don't interrupt it.
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It is Dean's birthright to interrupt the Brood wherever he finds it, however he can. He counts the scowl as a win, just so you know Sam, and continues to walk backwards while he talks with his hands as much as his mouth.
"You talked, I listened. And now we're going swimming. Remember? I'll kick as much ass as I have to to keep you safe, pumpkin, so don't you worry." At last he turns back around, his voice carrying back over his shoulder in thoroughly pleased musing. "Do sharks even have asses? Well, anyway, we'll kick 'em. How's your Gaelic, just in case Nessie is here?"
Reply
And yes, this is true. And he's actually pretty good at it, with a little bit of a grimace at 'pumpkin' because really. "No, they don't," he says, matter of factly, "And my Gaelic's at least better than yours, not that that's saying much."
:|
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And oh great, says Sam, now his involuntary facial spasms are reasons for nicknames. Fabulous. (Ignore him, he'll just have to deal with a new one. The typist is delighted.)
Sam would also like to note that there's nothing wrong with liking swimming. The place that Dean has scoped out is also, Sam grudgingly admits, nice. Grudgingly. (It's a Sam bad mood, okay, if they went away easily...)
Hanging back a little still, though he's holding his towel over his shoulder rather than as uncomfortably as he was earlier, Sam raises both eyebrows at Dean, skeptical to the last. "If you get bit do I still have to pay up?" He drawls.
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"And I came prepared." He tilts his head deliberately over towards the base of the rock, behind a smaller one and visible only once a person has come in to stand where Dean is, he has appropriated two six packs of beer and a stack of sandwiches. Because swimming also makes him hungry, and no outing would be complete without proper liquid emotional buffer.
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Nice analogy, says Meta!Sam. And this is true. Ah, Winchesters. A family with character. We are not falling for that smile, Dean, we know better - although it does get another tiny mouth-twitch. "Right," he says, still dryly. "I'm betting on a kraken, then, but fair warning I don't have any cash."
Liquid emotional buffer is a necessity, especially since Sam left his back there. He examines the sandwiches and the rock and the beer and finally Dean, and says, "Regular boy scout today."
Still not on tune. It's okay, we'll get him there.
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"No, you were the boy scout. I'm just awesome." He pauses a moment to squint up at the sky, trying to figure out if it's really going to stay this nice for a prolonged period of time; anyone's guess, though, even if back home he would've said they were in the clear for the next twenty four hours. He drops his own towel onto the rock and finally, finally relents as he cracks open the beer.
"You don't have to go in if you don't want, I guess. But there's fuckall for shade out here, dude."
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Sam drops the towel to catch the beer and pops his open as well, has a quick gulp, and finds a tree to lean up against, eying Dean for a long moment.
Finally, he lets slip a tiny smile. No dimples, and it's a little weak, but it's still there. Apparently he's decided to at least make an effort. "Someone's got to make sure you don't run off after a selkie, right?"
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"Fuck yeah, selkies for the win. As if you could stop me." Purely joking, the grin says, as Dean reaches down to prop his beer against the rock and, after considering for a moment, removes the Colt from his waistband and wraps it in the towel.
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Another one of those quick, almost wary smiles. Like it's not sure if it's welcome yet or not.
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