(Untitled)

[wegotwork]

Sam Winchester is behind the bar at the Luna, cutting up a series of lemons to garnish various drinks with. One thing the plagues have been good for is business. He's not about to complain, since that's the only source of money he and Dean have coming in, but he's still trying to wrap his hand around everything that's happened and what it all

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[ohboythepipes]

Danny's running through the park from some beast or another. He's lost it. For now. Not that... Danny would ever run from a monster. He's actually trying to lead it out so he can kill it.

He's distracted by the sight of a fellow angel pacing though, and he stops in his tracks right in front of her and smiles.

"Hey, what's got your panties in a bunch?"

Feel free to punch him, Teddy. He usually deserves it.

[callmeteddy]

She stops. Her jaw starts to work tightly, and her hand clenches into a fist.

Slowly, slowly, she relaxes it.

"Don't have time for you," she mutters.

Sirius isn't here and she can't find him anywhere and it's pissing her off but mostly she's just really, really worried and all of it is serving to definitely put her metaphorical panties in a bunch but she really does despise that term of phrase.

[ohboythepipes]

"Yeah, well, did you ever think I could be the one to help you untwist those panties of yours? Or at least help provide a distraction from the fact that your panties are all in a bunch," Danny says, rolling his eyes at her because what the fuck is up her ass? Yeesh. "So you can either keep on pacing around in your land of la la or tell me what the fuck's goin on. I'm an archangel here. Maybe I can offer you some assistance."

It's really okay to hit him.

[callmeteddy]

Teddy's look of warning lasts about five more seconds.

Danny's face, prepare to meet her fist in five, four, three--

(And she packs a hard punch.)

--two, one.

"No," she mutters, "thanks." No one ever said she didn't have her moments of politeness.

[thehandsomeone]

Dean doesn't have to work tonight, but at some point he might stop over at the bar, just to get on Sam's nerves or whatever it is he does. For now, though, he's roaming the halls of the Conrad, thinking about everything that's happened over the past few weeks.

It's kind of like going out for fresh air, except, Chicago being in the state that it is, this way seems less dangerous. So he's just walking, whatever, when he catches the scent of fresh paint from one of the rooms. The door's half open, and he stops when he sees a familiar face.

"Hey, Fred," he says. "You doing some redecorating?"

[doneanddoner]

Fred's got a decent half of the wall covered over in a fresh coat of paint by the time she sees someone stopping outside the room.

Well, she doesn't see him so much as spot some movement out of the corner of her eye, but still, it's enough to get her attention so she's not so startled when he actually talks to her.

"Oh. Hey, Dean."

She smiles brightly.

"Yeah. Just thought it was a good time for a change, y'know, after what's happened."

[thehandsomeone]

"Right."

Dean's pretty sure she means the plagues, but this being Chicago, he guesses she could mean any number of things.

He smiles back, even as he gazes at what has yet to be painted over.

"You seem like you made it out okay, yeah?"

[doneanddoner]

"'Bout as okay as anyone who made it out alive did, I s'pose."

She dips the roller into the paint, and with another swipe, another series of numbers vanishes under the mint green color.

"You and Sam are doin' okay?"