Filled: A Quiet Night (1/2)weestaOctober 9 2011, 01:53:25 UTC
It was a quiet night, but not one of those nights that Bobby would qualify as “almost too quiet”. Waiting for a Leviathan or some other creature to come out of the dark coupled with pain medication and the knowledge that his ability to make a fast getaway was seriously hampered had Dean as jumpy as a cat, but the quiet wasn’t the kind that raised his hackles or set off any alarm bells. He was between pills, but the pain wasn’t so bad that he was desperate for another one; he was almost relaxed.
It wasn’t the kind of quiet that indicated that Sam was having a bad night either. It wasn’t one of the now familiar, scary silences filled with Dean’s repeated and increasingly insistent pleas for Sam to respond. Sam hadn’t been “absent” for almost six hours - that was some kind of record. Bobby hoped Sam could make it until he turned in for the night, but that was a few hours off and anything could happen.
They had fallen into a routine of sorts in Rufus’ cabin now that both of the boys were upright and semi-mobile. Bobby would shoo them out to the living room after dinner grumbling about cleaning their dirty dishes but happy enough to have someone left to cook for, even if it wasn’t in his own kitchen. Depending on who was feeling better, it was up to the boys to entertain or distract the other, at least long enough to leave Bobby in peace for a little while or until it was time for Dean to take another pill.
Bobby kept half an ear on the rustling from the other room. The downside to Dean being able to tolerate longer stretches without medication was that his natural restlessness kicked in and the enforced immobility made him cranky. Bobby didn’t catch who had the idea, but a little while later, with a great deal of assistance from Sam, Dean was seated, leaned back against the Impala’s windshield with his leg propped up on some couch cushions, beer in hand, looking happier than a pig in shit. Of course, he was on the driver’s side. It was really no surprise when Sam climbed up and sat down next to him.
The boys were quiet for a long time; they both seemed so comfortable with it and that surprised Bobby. He wasn’t exactly eavesdropping when they started talking; there was just nothing else to listen to.
It wasn’t the kind of quiet that indicated that Sam was having a bad night either. It wasn’t one of the now familiar, scary silences filled with Dean’s repeated and increasingly insistent pleas for Sam to respond. Sam hadn’t been “absent” for almost six hours - that was some kind of record. Bobby hoped Sam could make it until he turned in for the night, but that was a few hours off and anything could happen.
They had fallen into a routine of sorts in Rufus’ cabin now that both of the boys were upright and semi-mobile. Bobby would shoo them out to the living room after dinner grumbling about cleaning their dirty dishes but happy enough to have someone left to cook for, even if it wasn’t in his own kitchen. Depending on who was feeling better, it was up to the boys to entertain or distract the other, at least long enough to leave Bobby in peace for a little while or until it was time for Dean to take another pill.
Bobby kept half an ear on the rustling from the other room. The downside to Dean being able to tolerate longer stretches without medication was that his natural restlessness kicked in and the enforced immobility made him cranky. Bobby didn’t catch who had the idea, but a little while later, with a great deal of assistance from Sam, Dean was seated, leaned back against the Impala’s windshield with his leg propped up on some couch cushions, beer in hand, looking happier than a pig in shit. Of course, he was on the driver’s side. It was really no surprise when Sam climbed up and sat down next to him.
The boys were quiet for a long time; they both seemed so comfortable with it and that surprised Bobby. He wasn’t exactly eavesdropping when they started talking; there was just nothing else to listen to.
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