John/Dean/River
After hearing what Sam had to say, and talking to Alice, John needed to confab with his eldest son. He headed across the hall, tapping on the boys' door, figuring if Dean wasn't there, Sam might be, or vice versa. It did him good to think his boys were together again, despite it leaving the field to Yellow Eyes at least for the moment. His sons just worked their best when they were together.
Dean turned off the television, walking to the door in already boot-clad feet. He opened it cautiously, but when he saw it was his father, flung it wide. "Hey. Everything all right?"
"Yeah, fine. Just had to ask you some things." John walked inside, closing the door. "I met up with Sammy," was all he said at first, knowing his eyes were probably betraying just how relieved he was that that had gone well. He felt like he should thank Dean for something, though Sammy would have found him anyway. Still. Who the hell knew.
"He said you'd talked to one of the girls - women" - whatever - "that's kind of new here. She wouldn't say a damn word to me."
Dean blinked. "Which one? I only know Wendy and River." He motioned his father inside, gesturing to an empty chair. "They're both in your dossier, aren't they?" Dean didn't have to say how glad he was to have Sam around. Just looking over at Sam's messenger bag next to his bed calmed Dean down.
John blinked. Wendy? Damn. "I haven't met a Wendy yet. But River's the one I mean." He took the empty chair, sitting with his weight pushed forward, as was his unconscious habit. "Met her in the hall, but apparently I freaked her out or something." He shook his head. "All I know is her name, but Sammy said she seemed to know you."
"I taught her how to swim, actually. Well. Sorta." He shrugged. "We were exploring and we found the pool." He cocked his head to the side, rethinking the situation through. "Actually, when you come to mention it, we did sort of hang out for a while. She's a sweet kid. Why?"
John shrugged. "Just want to know. I want to fill out the dossier. She looks so delicate, I'm not sure she'd be of any help in getting the hell out of here. But we have to look into every possibility, of course." He remembered what Sam had told him. "Sammy said when he told her he was your brother, she got all pissy with him."
His hands suddenly seemed really interesting. "Her brother isn't here yet. She's got some sort of condition, and he's a doctor, and he looks after her. And she promised she'd look after him too." John, of all people, should understand how that could tear someone up.
He did, and his tone was just a little quieter when he answered. "I see." Hm. "So she's handicapped in some way? Alice has met her too, I guess, but she couldn't really tell what the girl's deal was." If the brother showed up, it'd make a difference, obviously. He didn't want to pump his son for information too hard, but still. He had to know.
"She's not really handicapped. She says she's from the future. And she's smart, she just takes everything really literally. I think it's 'cause the language has changed or something. I said I had a lead stomach and she worried about me dying of lead poisoning." It was almost charming, and he chuckled at the recollection.
John nodded, sitting back in the chair a little. "That's less weird than it would have been, and that's weird in itself." He sighed. "But okay. She's just a little ... strange, then." Interesting. Why had she run away from him, then? Maybe he reminded her of something?
"She's skittish, too. Keeps worrying about people treating her like a doll. Maybe there's some sort of past trauma." To Dean, she seemed less mentally retarded and a lot more like some of the trauma victims he'd met. "Dunno how useful she'd be, but she's plenty interesting."
John nodded absently, half lost in thought. She did interest him. It was something to tax his brain over. "I asked her what her name was, and she told me, and then took off down the hall like a rabbit." Annoying, to be damn sure. "But okay. Thanks. I'll write out some more on her page." His back ached suddenly, a twinge making its way upward toward his shoulder blades. "Is there a gym or a place to work out here, you have any idea?"
"Not that I know of, but we could go outside. We can't leave the grounds, but we could go and jog or something." He stood up and stretched a bit himself. "I know how you feel. Too many years of walking around all the time. Hurts to just stop."
"Yeah, I've been jogging around, but I think I need to really get a good workout in." John cracked his back as best he could, watching his son. He actually tried to joke a little - he wanted them both to laugh more. "Bet I could still whip your ass."
Dean smirked. "Wanna put some money on it?" He pointed to his wallet and shrugged. "Money's not really good for much anyway." He shrugged off his leather jacket and reached for his money. He handed his father a fiver.
John raised an eyebrow, amused. "Only five?" But he came to the same conclusion; what did they need money for here. "All right, fine. We just have to find a place to spar."
"Yeah, only five. I'm cautious." He opened the door and gestured for his father to leave first, heading down the stairs. He wandered around in the lobby, trying to lead John to where he thought he'd seen the door that led outside. What he did find scared him more. "Uh. Was this here before?"
John followed his elder son, looking around in mild confusion at the seemingly never-ending doorways. "Damned if I know." He looked confused for a second, though. "We're near the outside door, right? By the lobby?"
"Thought we were, but this room wasn't here before..." Dean's voice trailed off as he went inside. It was everything they'd need to spar. Son of a... is this here 'cause I wanted it to be? Is River right? Did I fucking wish Sam here?
Damn if John's blood didn't run cold. (It was still a little weird that he had blood. It hadn't been that long.) "You're serious," he said dully, looking around. But it did look like it'd been fully stocked just for them - knife sheaths on a table, mats, everything.
Dean shook his head. "This is weird, even for us." But his hands were almost magnetically drawn to the knives and their leather sheaths, stroking the fine grain. "It's like it's alive or something."
"I wouldn't be surprised." John said grimly, looking around. "It would definitely explain some of the weird shit going on lately. But his own eyes surveyed the equipment. "It looks all equipped, though."
As much as it irritated him, he figured they might as well use it. "We're here. Shall we?" Dean stretched a little, his arms over his head, his legs. "Go easy on me, old man. You know how I feel about hitting you."
John raised an eyebrow - Dean was getting a little bit lax, clearly. "Go easy on me, what?" he prompted, taking one of the knives and making sure it was securely sheathed. Stabbing Dean wouldn't exactly be high on his list of experiences.
Dean took one of the knives and tested it for weight. He was pleased with how it felt in his hand, how the weight of the pommel balanced against his wrist. "Go easy on me, please, Sir." He moved away from his father, dropping to a fighting stance, left foot ready to balance his weight so the right could kick.
Better. "You don't need to tell me I'm old, Dean," John managed, dropping into a defensive stance on instinct. "I damn well know that." But he parried the first kick well enough, sidestepping, keeping his weight moving.
Dean slashed and went for John's legs, starting out on the offensive. "Term of endearment, Sir." He grunted when he felt John parry hard, a firm deflection that sent bone rattling against bone.
That made John chuckle, wheezing out a surprised breath at the impact. "Ow." It was more surprise than pain, but still. He switched to the offensive while he could, aiming a leather-covered slash toward Dean's shoulder while balancing his weight against his left foot. If done right, his son would duck the slash and come right into contact with John's balanced hip.
Dean knew what was supposed to happen there; his father had taught him that feint well enough. Instead, he moved forward to tackle the older man. Fighting fire with fire sometimes worked. Instead, he came more into contact with his shoulder, but it was a blow he could shake off more easily. He grunted slightly at the pain, but kept moving.
Huh. A damn good job. John caught the brunt of Dean's tackle, but managed to stay on his feet, though he staggered back a step or two. While Dean was fairly prone, he angled a knee up, trying to catch his son in the chest long enough to wriggle out of the hold.
That sent Dean flying. Dean was raw power and youth, but John had years of strategy on his son. He grunted as he flew back, coughing a little. It hurt like hell, and he'd be bruised in the morning, but he loved it. Sparring was one of his favourite things as a teenager. Still was.
While he was off balance, John feinted left, then tried to knock Dean off his feet with a solid forearm. It stung as Dean's weight connected, and his son didn't even leave his feet. Damn it. "You're stronger than you were," John managed, breathing a little hard, but nothing critical.
River had been drawn by the sounds coming from the room she would have sworn wasn't there before. She just figured it had gotten up and moved, though, so it was no consequence. She walked inside, looking around, noticing it was designed for fighting. Two men were in the middle of the room, grappling in what looked like an ancient style. Such children.
She walked closer to the mats, surprised to realize it was Dean and the older man she'd seen before. It looked like an even fight, but they both had weaknesses. She would just watch for a while.
Dean wanted to pause when River entered the room. He'd seen her out of the corner of his eye, but he knew that if he did, his father would take the opening and milk it for all it was worth. Instead, he hoped his father would be surprised and feinted right.
John didn't notice her, but was still surprised. He couldn't restrain the loud grunt as Dean's weight connected with his shoulder again, but half the fun of this was trying to remember strategy. His son's weight was all angled forward - John simply hooked a leg around Dean's left leg, trying to knock him off balance and send him flying to the mat.
It was instructive, watching them. River blinked widely, surprised at the sheer savagery of their fight. Yet their knives were sheathed; they weren't fighting to the death.
Just in case, she'd help Dean. She knew Dean. "Balance your weight," she said, loud enough to be heard. "He'll take you off balance."
It worked, but Dean knew enough to reach out to try to grab his father to take him down with him. When Dean's back collided with the mat, he looked over at River. "Thanks, but, I think I know how to - " He interrupted himself by rolling away from his father's weight.
John didn't know why the girl was here, and why she was talking to Dean, but he'd take the distraction. Besides, she was fucking right. It was the simplest way to take down his eldest son. He landed hard on his ass, but he still had enough breath to get up and try for another lunge at his son's midsection.
River stayed quiet during the slash, but she watched his arcing arm movements and sighed. "He's trying to get you off balance." It was so obvious - Dean would step back, and back, and back, until the older man would simply drop the knife and tackle.
Dean paused, throwing his hands in the air. "River, I'm going to be fi- " He stopped talking and could hardly breathe when his father tackled him. It hurt, and he grit his teeth at letting a pretty girl distract him so much, but he justified it with curiosity. How did she know so much?
John wound up on top of his son, and had to focus all his energies to get Dean to stop wiggling. "I pinned you," he said, trying to press down. "C'mon, admit it." His legs were folded under him.
"Take his knees," was all River said. She was only trying to help, after all.
Dean grumbled. "You had help." He waited for his father's weight to get off of his chest before standing up and dusting himself off. He pointed at River.
"You talk an awful big game, missy. Are you tryin' to say you've done something like this before?" He couldn't see it.
River raised an eyebrow as both men turned their eyes on her. She resisted the urge to run away from the older man's dead glare, though, to answer Dean's questions. "Such fundamentals come early. And yes, I have been in altercations."
Dean couldn't help smirking. She used words like 'altercation' in everyday language. It was almost cute. "Fundamentals? Come early where? Were you in boot camp or something?" He looked at her, saw how she was visibly shrinking away from his father.
He went over to her and let his hand rest on her shoulder. "River, have you met my dad?"
His father? River blinked, feeling his hand hitting her shoulder, and turning toward the other man. "Your father," she said dully, shaking her head. "No. Looked in his eyes. That was enough."
John blinked, not quite sure what the hell she meant by that, but still trying to be nice. "Hi, River." She nodded and smiled wanly at him, but she still looked freaked out.
"Huh?" Dean squeezed a little. "His name's John. You can call him John, if you want. He's nice, I promise. Not going to... what was it you were scared of? He won't hurt you, no matter what you were scared of." Dean squeezed her hand a bit, having learned from experience that tactile contact calmed chicks down.
River nodded. "Eyes," she explained, still looking at Dean. "Windows to the soul. Never seen one refurbished before." She couldn't adequately explain it - there seemed something different about him. His eyes didn't look the same as everyone else's.
Still. She liked Dean. He was kind. If he vouched for his father, she could try. She held out her small free hand, and John shook it gently, still trying to put her at her ease.
Dean chuckled. "You're the most observant thing ever." He looked at his father, and motioned at him. "She's nervous 'cause you're... well. Not dead." It spoke for itself, and he shrugged. It would've upset his calm too, but he didn't get how she could tell.
John blinked. "She knows how to fight and she's that observant?" His first reaction would have been 'okay, creepy', but somehow he didn't want to say it. Dean clearly thought she was sweet, and it would have been pointless to piss him off. Or her, for that matter.
River shrugged. "I see things." It was so obvious to her. The glints of light in pupils. The way a body held themselves.
Dean popped a shrug. Maybe they all learned how to fight at young ages where she came from. He didn't notice when he stood almost protectively in front of River, not until his shoulder came into contact with her tiny body. "River's smart."
John wasn't an idiot; he knew when to back off. "Didn't say she wasn't." His tone was half frustration, half placating. He looked at the girl. "Sorry, don't mean to talk like you're not here."
River shrugged. It had happened often enough to her before. "Used to being part of the woodwork. Just tried to help when you fought. Glad it wasn't to the death."
"He's my dad. I'm sure as hell not going to kill him. We were just practicing. You've sparred before, right?" He figured if she knew technique, there had to be a reason. "And have you been keeping up with the swimming?"
River nodded, on both counts. "Was more serious than sparring. And the water and I are friends again."
John raised an eyebrow, and walked over to the knives. Might as well check them out and let the girl talk to Dean. She seemed a hell of a lot more comfortable around him.
Dean blinked. "More serious? You mind talking about it? You don't have to, if you don't want to." He did smile a little at her being 'friends with the water' again. But he was curious. River had never gone into specifics about her past. Well, except the whole being from the future thing.
River shook her head firmly. "Talking about them gives them life again." It wasn't that she didn't think he could handle it - he was reminding her an awful lot of the captain, and the captain hadn't been too afraid of the Reavers. But the captain had been afraid.
Still, she could explain some. "Not just sparring. Been in a fight."
He smiled a little, imagining her in some barfight on a distant planet. If they had bars on distant planets, which he wasn't entirely sure about. But she seemed worried, so he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I know it doesn't mean much, but me and my brother and my dad are all pretty good at keeping people safe. We'll try, okay?"
She understood he meant to be kind, and indeed she smiled at him for it. Still, she didn't want him to worry. "I could handle you." River's voice was even, but if he'd known her better, he might have known she was trying to make him laugh. It was rare.
Dean's eyebrows shot up, and he chuckled. "Y'sure about that?" He figured she meant it in a fighting type situation, but she was observant. She had to have picked up on the fact that he thought she was cute.
River knew Dean seemed to be interested by her, but she thought nothing of it; she was interested in him. His past, his planet. And he was kind, and seemed to be willing to tell her things.
Still, she nodded. "Could kick you right there." She pointed to his squarish jaw, at a spot about two inches to the left of his chin.
He snorted. "You're too short." He tried not to think about her kissing that spot, and shook it off. He'd just gotten laid. Instead, he dropped into a defense stance. "C'mon, short stuff, let's see what you got."
Now he was mocking her, but she could hear his tone. River nodded, figuring she'd warned him. The tricks and the style just came back to her - they were still buried in her damaged brain.
She stepped into the area where Dean and his father had been fighting, and waited. She figured he'd come at her upper body first; most big men did when they saw how small she was. But that played right into her proverbial hands.
Dean predictably figured he'd just jump on her and pin her. He didn't know what she was capable of, and that was a problem. At least after this, he would. It solved a couple of problems. If he could beat her, it'd fix his wounded pride, and then he and Dad would know exactly what River could do.
He got her in a neck hold, and she struggled, surprised at his strong arms. Still, of all times, she could paradoxically keep calm very easily in a fight, and did just that. She squirmed, manoeuvring until most of his weight was concentrated on her left side. Then she simply adjusted her own weight, and let her leg fly. It connected solidly with what she assumed was his jaw, and the hold dropped away.
He stopped holding her long enough to rub his jaw and blink. "Ow." He grunted and reached out for the leg, hoping he could grab, twist, and drop her. "Okay, Gumby, point proven."
She didn't know what a gumby was, but she anticipated the leg hold. He grabbed and twisted, and she squeaked as she started to fall backward, but she reached out with her own leg, hooking it solidly at the back of his knee. She certainly wasn't a pushover.
He grunted when he went down on one knee, but he'd pulled her down with him. He tried to move onto his hands fast enough so he could grapple her with both legs. Dean almost forgot his father was in the room.
John couldn't help but watch, of course. Both for sheer shock, and the practical implications of seeing this tiny girl more than hold her own against Dean, who'd been scrapping since he was six years old. She wasn't doing too damn bad so far.
River's eyes went wide when his legs tried to wrap around her, and she did the only thing she could think of. He was on his hands and knees, which meant his midsection was in the air. She rolled as best she could as he tried to find enough purchase to pin her, and guessed he'd go left (how maddening it was to have to guess! With the whispers, she'd have had him unconscious in ten seconds. Not that she wanted that). But she'd been right - he went left - and her bony knee connected solidly with his dangly bits. That move was usually effective when she didn't have to guess. At least she'd guessed right.
Dean's eyes widened. He felt like all of his midsection had just been dropped into a fire, or molten lava. He had two options: subdue her to avoid further testicular harm, or curl into a ball and never hear the end of it from anyone ever again. Dean chose the first option, flopping onto her and leaning on her with all his weight. "Pinned ya. Say I did so I can let you up and die, please?"
River struggled at first, but it was difficult to argue with such weight solidly on her midsection. "Agreed?" she managed to gasp out, the wind having been knocked out of her by his fall. But why was he talking about dying? Had she hit with so much force?
Dean nodded and rolled off of her, curling into a ball. "Jesus Christ, they're gonna fall off." He squeezed his legs together against the pain, but it did nothing. He prayed to God that his father wouldn't tell Sam.
John had seen them go down, and as River extricated herself, he just saw Dean wince and curl into a ball. He had to work hard to stifle a gasp of laughter, if only because getting kicked in the junk really did hurt. Still.
He walked over, kneeling down next to Dean, smiling, but not laughing. "You okay? What happened? I didn't see." River looked like a puppy that had peed on the carpet, and before John could talk to her, she scampered off without a word. Well, shit.
"Knee. Nuts. Perfect center. Full force. Oh, god, this sucks." He rolled over a little, blinking and trying to stand. "Did she leave?" He didn't understand why, but he figured it out after a while. "She feels bad.'
Okay, John did laugh, but only a little. "Shit. She get you that bad? She's so small." He offered his son a hand, though if she'd hit him that hard, Dean would be woozy for a little while. "I don't know where she went." At this point, he could care less. Clearly she was a hell of a lot more dangerous than she looked.
Dean took it, trying to shake off the blow. He nodded. "She knows what she's doing." He figured his jaw would be swollen enough to prove that. "But she... I don't think she really even wanted to hit me. She seemed so tentative."
"Did she?" John blinked. Dammit, he wished he'd been watching. He helped Dean over to a chair as he heard the door open again.
He looked up, and River was standing there meekly, even apologetically. She held out what looked like an ice pack, eyes firmly on the floor. John smiled a little bit at her. Dean would bitch, but this would actually help. "Thanks," he said, trying to sound nonthreatening.
Dean smiled a bit at her as well. "You got me pretty good. Thanks." He nodded at the ice, letting her know he was thanking her for the ice, and not for the hit to the groin. He reached out, holding up his hand for a high five. "Bet you tore up in the scraps you were in."
River looked confused; she'd expected him to curse at her. She didn't quite understand what he was getting at, but she guessed. Again, guessing. "I kept myself safe." Muscle memory had simply taken over, when he'd tried to pin her down.
"Good." It meant that if he couldn't, for some reason, she'd be okay. He didn't know why he worried about her, but he did. "Wanna get some ice cream while my nuts de-swell?" He figured he'd hobble up to his room and she could join him. Place this snazzy has to have room service.
John had to speak up. "Put the ice on," he directed. He rose, but he wasn't going to go until Dean obeyed.
River nodded when he asked her to get iced cream. She didn't know what it was, but she knew what ice was, and she knew what cream was. It wasn't illogical to imagine an amalgamation of the two.
Dean shoved the bag of ice down his pants, grumbling. "Jeeeeesus." He shook a little, but then offered River a huge grin. It was completely fake, but he hoped she'd take it for what it was supposed to be - a message that he'd be okay.
She wasn't fooled. As he seemed to want to rise, she extended a hand, bracing herself to handle his weight.
John gave his son a you-know-I'm-right look. "Let her look after you or something," he said, a little sternly. Wounded pride was one thing, but if she'd really gotten him that bad, Dean would be dizzy. He wasn't about to let Dean fall or something because he tried to do too much.
Dean nodded, letting himself lean a tiny bit. He didn't want to squash her, but he was feeling a little woozy. "Thanks." He nodded at his dad. "Catch you later?"
John nodded, though he had to look away not to laugh as River squeaked faintly at Dean's weight. Maybe she was dangerous. Maybe she wasn't. Dean would have more of a chance to observe, for what it was worth. He trusted his son. Without saying goodbye to River, John just walked out of the room, wanting to set all this shit down, and then maybe try to find Alice.
River had squeaked, but she shut up as Dean leaned on her. It was like supporting Simon, except Dean was bigger. "Will you recover?" she asked, tone small as if she expected a negative. She'd never cared what happened to any of the people she'd fought before, really.
"Of course I will. I'll just be sore for a while." He staggered up the stairs, glad for her there to balance him. "Can we sit in your room? Sammy might be in mine and I don't want him to laugh at me. 'Cause he will."
River nodded, bracing herself on the banister as their feet hit each step. "Heavy." Thump. "Won't tell the greedy giant."
Dean grunted with the movement, going to her doorway and leaning against the doorframe. "Thanks. And sorry I'm so heavy." He lifted his shirt to look at his stomach. Maybe he was gaining a little weight.
River shrugged, unlocking her door. There was nothing in her room that Dean couldn't see. "I'm small. You're not." It wasn't a matter of gaining in the belly, as he seemed to think. She looked down at his stomach after she unlocked the door. "Strong," was all she said.
Dean grinned. "Glad you think so." He flopped down on her bed with a groan, careful to avoid putting his boots on her bedsheets. "You're really... neat." He blinked a little. Her room was the opposite of his.
River just laughed; she'd cleaned up her research the night before. That was the only reason her things were in order. The only things visible were her knife on the bedside table, and her keepsakes on the desk. The pages from Shepherd Book's symbol that had turned into paper, and the notes Simon had given her to hold. Without a word she closed the door and sat on the end of the bed to pull his boots off. It wasn't perhaps necessary, but it was tit for tat, given she'd hurt him.
He blinked a little, then smiled. "Thanks." He reached over for the phone, dialing zero for the hotel desk and the creepy Bellboy. He asked for room service, and was transferred to someone eerily cheery who informed him that yes, two ice cream sundaes with the works would be up shortly.
He leaned back on the bed, sprawling out comfortably now that his shoes were off. "C'mere?"
At first she didn't understand, but eventually she nodded, crawling up the mattress to sit next to him, folding her legs underneath her. She kept waiting for him to get angry at her, but he seemed calm. It was hard to understand. "If you hurt me, you'd have your insides on your outsides," she managed, looking down at her lap. "But my innards are still my innards."
He chuckled. "We were just practicing. It's understood that someone'll get messed up. It happens. Not your fault." He rest his head against hers. He nodded toward the television remote. "Anything you wanna watch?"
He was being ... sweet. It was unusual. River blinked, feeling his head briefly against the side of her own. "I don't know how to access the holovid library," she said truthfully, as much as it grated. Yet another thing she had to admit ignorance of. "Need to find this world's secrets. This place is as shifty as the bastard of a Companion and a snake."
He sat up and grabbed the remote. "This controls it. We call it a remote, or a remote control." He pointed out the various buttons. "This one turns it on and off. This changes the channels. See, there's lots of different things playing at the same time, called channels. This lets you flip through them until you find one you want." There was a knock at her door, and he left the remote in her tiny hands to answer it.
She shook her head and pushed him back down, hand in the middle of his chest. "Your father said to sit," River lectured. "He'll come back and take my soul for his own." She got up and opened her door, blinking at the Bellboy standing there. In his hand he had a tray with two of the most odd looking things she'd ever seen. Whatever they were, she'd accept them, so she took the tray and shut the door. "What are these."
Dean laughed at that, motioning for her to bring them and sit down. "You don't have ice cream in the future. Um. Basically, they take cream and ice and flavorings and put 'em in a bucket and..." His voice trailed off when he realized he wasn't a hundred percent clear on how it was made. "It turns into ice cream. So, this is an ice cream sundae." He pointed out the parts. "That's a scoop of strawberry ice cream, then chocolate, then vanilla. The white stuff on top is whipped cream, the things on the side are bananas, those little brown dots are chopped walnuts, and the red thing on top is a cherry."
Oh. This was ice cream. River looked at it with something near wonder in her eyes - it was new, after all. Something more to learn about. "Unacquainted with vanilla. And bananas. And how are the strawberries made into iced cream? And chocolate - rarer than gold on Osiris." She felt a pang of what she assumed was loneliness as she mentioned her world, but she forced it down.
"Bananas are a fruit. Vanilla's a... bean, I think. And you smush it up and mix it into the cream before you... ice it." He reached out, took a fingerful of whipped cream, and put it on her nose. "Eat a bite of everything by itself. And there should be some hot fudge in here... yep, under the whipped cream." He couldn't help grinning. He'd say a lot about the hotel, but at least it made a good looking sundae.
"Fudge." She remembered that. "Is it not rare here?" She looked up at him as she wiped her nose. The whipped cream was light and slightly sticky. But she took a fork and took a hesitant bite of the pinkish flavour he said was strawberry. She blinked in surprise as it melted in her mouth. " ... How are the fruits compressed into this?" It tasted so much like the Shepherd's strawberries it made her chest tighten.
"Nah, fudge is pretty readily available here. And they smush the strawberries with a blender. Um. A blender's a blade on a high speed motor designed for squishing food." Dean was at times both frustrated with his inability to describe what he considered really standard stuff, but at the same time, was sort of amused by it.
"So, the strawberries get blended liquid fine, and then poured in with the cream and sugar, and there you have it." He smiled at her. "Good, huh."
It was logical. She nodded, eating more of the strawberry. "All that's missing is the shape. Even its juices melt in my mouth." She smiled stickily. "We're all cannibals at heart." She hesitantly did as he'd done and dipped a finger in the whipped cream, licking it gently. It was even sweeter than the ice cream itself.
Dean hadn't even started eating his own yet. He was having way more fun watching her eat her own. "Try vanilla. It's weird, it doesn't taste like anything you've ever had. Vanilla tastes like... well, vanilla." He looked down, and found his own was melting. He took a spoonful of chocolate, hot fudge, and whipped cream, and let it run down his throat, groaning.
She wasn't sure what that groan was, though she assumed it was contentment. She felt her face go hot, and blinked. "Atmospheric reaction," River murmured under her breath, obediently taking a spoonful of the vanilla. It was so cold, her skin was likely increasing its heat retention in order to keep her inner temperature at an appropriate level. Strange malfunction. She cocked her head to one side as she tasted the vanilla. "It's creamy," she said. She licked her lip idly. "Like an ice ball, on Beaumonde. Like you're drinking from a cow and chasing it with sweet tea."
He chuckled a little, grinning. He was glad that she was finally relaxing. "Think you'll like the chocolate. Then you have to have a bite with it all together." He took his cherry off the top, rest it between his lips for a moment before munching it thoughtfully. "This is pretty much the best food I can think of."
"I know chocolate. And cherries." River nodded. She just skipped the last two bites, taking a bite of the entire thing except for the banana. That would be last. The result was an interesting mix of tastes that River decided she approved of. "Wasn't sure they'd get along," she murmured around a mouthful of the stuff.
"You'd be surprised. Vanilla plays nice with everyone, and strawberry and chocolate are buddies." He ate his own, only pausing to lick his fingers when chocolate sauce dribbled down the spoon.
"And bananas?" River took another bite, and another. The ice cream was rapidly disappearing.
"They kinda sit to the side, waiting for you to eat 'em last, 'cause they're only there to keep the ice cream from sliding around." He couldn't help watching her while he ate. She was so innocent. He hadn't seen anyone so genuinely happy to eat in a very long time.
"I see." River nodded around her mouthful of ice cream. "They must get bored." She blinked as her teeth crunched around something small and hard, but she remembered he'd called it a walnut. Some peculiar variety of bezel nut, likely. The shape and texture appeared the same.
"Yeah, but they've got an important job." He realized that she still had the whipped cream on her nose. He risked leaning forward and kissing it off her nose. I don't think she'll hammer my nuts again, but we'll find out, I guess.
Her eyes went faintly wide at that, but she didn't object. It was a kind gesture. Almost brotherly. "You're not Simon," River murmured, itching her nose after the faint pressure of his lips. But there went that strange bodily reaction malfunction again - she was flushing hot and probably piquantly red.
"Nope." He leaned back and munched on some more of his sundae again. He liked watching her. She was different. After nights and nights of uninteresting women, it was nice.
She decided to ignore her cheeks' disobedience, and finished the ice cream. She took a hesitant bite of the banana, finding it also delectable. "Mmm."
She looked over at him, and saw him looking at her. "Yes?" But before she could pursue it further, something went cold in her brain. She yelped, dropping the empty dish, her hands flying to her temples. "Ow."
"Oh, you've got a little bit of brain freeze. Here." He moved her hands, letting his thumbs rub her temples. "You just ate too fast. It'll go away in a minute."
She bit her lip, looking over at him and trying to keep her thoughts flowing freely. "Nothing without my brain. Stumbling in the dark - " She cut herself off with an effort, feeling the creeping sensation start just barely to give way. "It will go away?"
"Yeah. Brain freeze isn't really what happens, it's just what everyone calls it. I don't know why it happens, it's just what happens when you eat too much of something cold too fast. Your brain is fine." He smiled a little. "Would I lie to you?"
"Unknown." Though she doubted that he would. Still, she looked at him until her brain began to relax. It was only when she felt absolutely normal that River let her eyes close, breathing out a sigh of relief.
"Good?" He leaned back. "You've just got to pace yourself. "If your mouth feels too cold, just stop eating for a while." He rubbed her back and ate a bit of his banana.
She smiled a little, nodding and looking at the empty dish, except for the banana sitting there in a lonely fashion. She held it up, eyeing it, noting its curvature and soft texture. "What a strangely shaped fruit." She didn't think it would cause the same reaction, but just to be sure. "Won't send inappropriate impulses to my neurons?"
"No, it's not cold." It'll probably make me all inappropriate. He reached over for the remote, flipping on the TV. It would distract him.
River jumped at the sudden sound of the holovid player, but once she realized what it was, she turned her attention back to the banana. She ate about a third of it, cocking her head to one side as she chewed. "Mmm. I approve."
He tried not to watch her too closely. She was too young, too sweet. He needed to go find someone boring. Someone generic. Or even someone who was interesting but not so fucking sweet. He closed his eyes, sighing a little. He hated feeling out of control.
River finished the banana, wiping her hand on her skirt, and folded her legs beneath her as her eyes turned to the holovid. "What is this?" she asked. It appeared to be some kind of gunfight, and she wondered if it was a play or if the citizens of Earth-that-Was really recorded combat like she'd read in her books.
"Um. Gunsmoke, I think." He changed the channel, but figured he was being rude. He handed her the remote, showing her which button to hit to change things. "You can pick what you want to watch."
River nodded her thanks, hitting the button to flip through the holovids. She saw a thousand different worlds, and figured they were theater - some were too outlandish to be news. "Is only theatre available?" she asked. She hadn't turned on the holovids before. "No news to tell us where we are?" She didn't like that, if such was the case.
He shook his head. "Yeah, there's... I couldn't find anything current either. It's mostly old stuff." He grumbled a little bit and shrugged. "I don't like it either." He patted her hand a little.
River nodded. "What type of holovid do you like to watch?" she asked, adjusting her legs under her skirt. "Serenity didn't have many. Cap'n Reynolds liked war movies." She rolled her eyes to convey her judgments on that.
He didn't mention that he liked war movies too. "Um. Cartoons are good. They're drawn by people. They're funny." He moved a little bit closer to her, wrapping an arm loosely around her shoulders.
River didn't answer - things drawn by people could be dangerous, because they came to life. But when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she let him. She was cold. She kept changing the holovids, stopping when she saw a man and a woman standing in front of a table, talking toward the camera. There was a timer in the corner of the screen, and she blinked at it. "Two minutes and seventeen seconds until what?"
Dean blinked, and couldn't help laughing. "Um." It was the Home Shopping Network. He knew that if they tried to order any of the stuff, it probably wouldn't work, but he was amused that he could watch the knife shows. "Oh, their set is going to explode." He hoped the sarcasm shined through.
Her eyes went wide. "And this is on holovid for anyone to access? How barbaric." She turned her eyes back to the screen. "Why don't they flee?"
Dean couldn't help laughing hard, snorting a little bit. "Um. I was joking. This is the shopping network. Those people show you stuff you can purchase, and you call them with the telephone and tell them you want it. They transfer your money electronically. The timer is how long they're going to keep on selling whatever's on screen. That looks like... a pan or something."
"Oh." River thought for a minute, then turned her head back away from him, getting more comfortable. "I like my interpretation better." She watched the clock tick down - it was under a minute now.
"Wanna pretend?" He laughed a little. "I think that your way is funnier, too. Run, you idiots! You’re gonna diiiiiiie!" He flailed a little bit for effect.
She bit her lip as the clock ticked down, not sure what would happen. On instinct, she buried her head in the nearest surface, which happened to be Dean's shoulder. But she didn't hear any explosion - she looked up and found that it had simply switched to a different couple, talking amiably about something else. She shook her head. "I hope it was painless."
Dean couldn't help laughing and petting her hair. "Me too." He couldn't help rubbing her shoulder a little bit. He was so screwed.