(Untitled)

[steel_singer]

Bobby hadn't been as shaken up as he was by yesterday's discovery in a long god damn time, includin' all the shit he'd been through with the Winchester boys. Now there was a little mound of earth in front of his hut that concealed somethin' he never thought he'd be seein' again, and never would if he could help it. It'd be a long damn time 'fore he

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[transgenic_alec]

It's about the fourth time in the past hour alone that Alec's heard that damn jukebox burst randomly to life. From what Alec's been able to tell, everyone else is used to it, but it's making him seriously contemplate the value of taking it apart piece by piece and selling the parts.

'Course, that'd probably be more useful if this place actually had any kind of decent currency. Figures.

When it starts up yet again, Alec doesn't bother suppressing a groan, his head falling back against the arm of the couch where he's currently sprawled, left arm still in a sling and some pre-Pulse issue of National Geographic balanced on his chest.

"Oh, come on! Give it a rest already."

[steel_singer]

Bobby's eyebrows shot up at the sight of the sling. What the hell'd that kid been up to since yesterday caused him to be wearin' a god damn sling now?

"Boy, what the hell you been doin' now that you're havin' to wear a-" he started sharply, then cut himself off abruptly when he got a closer look at the kid. He was a dead ringer for Dean, but a much younger Dean, and it was like lookin' back in time. Bobby'd known the Winchester boys since they were knee high to a grasshopper. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, tone noticeably softer. "I'm guessin' this ain't the first time you've been mistaken for someone else."

[transgenic_alec]

The Beatles are still blasting loudly, but Alec figures it could be a lot worse when he lowers the magazine to look at the guy who's obviously talking to him.

"Great," he mutters, rolling his eyes and letting out a sigh as he turns his attention back to the article on the mating habits of pandas. "Yeah, no. Looking for some good-looking guy named Dean, right?"

[steel_singer]

It was goddamn strange, hearin' that kinda cheek comin' from someone who looked so much like John Winchester's eldest, and Bobby nearly told him to watch his damn mouth. After a moment to curb his initial reaction, though, he just nodded. "You look just like him," he said, and he knew people had clones on the island but he'd never had this close of a brush with one. "But you musta already knew that."

[dumbassbastards]

"Shooting it doesn't do any good," says Rollie between sips of his coffee. Not that the guy has a gun out or is making any indication he wants to draw one. Rollie just knows that long-suffering look when it comes to the jukebox. "Entertaining watching people try, though."

[steel_singer]

"I wouldn't waste a bullet," Bobby said with a dry laugh, lookin' over at Rollie. "How you been, Rollie?" he asked, perfectly fine with gettin' on a subjec that wasn't his birthday. "Haven't seen much of you since I got my Jack Daniel's back in January."

[dumbassbastards]

"Well, if you ever want to find me, just look for a grubby five-year-old with blue hands and a small horse and you'll probably find me trailing behind," he says ruefully. "Though seriously, there's been a lot of work for combat-trained doctors lately, sad to say."

[steel_singer]

"So it seems," Bobby agreed somberly. "Hope it doesn't become a common occurrence." He and the Winchesters might end up havin' more work on their hands than they'd reckoned on here, if that was the case.

[weary_head]

"Hey Bobby." Dean's voice was quieter than usual, though not quiet enough to arouse outright suspicion. Unless one were naturally distrustful. Or crotchety.

The irreverent thought gave Dean strength, and he walked forward, pushing a parcel against Bobby's chest with an air of challenge. It was wrapped loosely in construction paper, and whatever was inside it was soft.

[steel_singer]

Bobby reached up automatically to take the parcel, looking down at it, then back up at Dean with an expression that managed to be both puzzled and annoyed. "What the hell's this?"

[weary_head]

"What it looks like," said Dean. When another glance at his carefully wrapped package revealed it to be a lumpy smattering of colored paper taped together, he added, "It's a present."

[steel_singer]

Bobby kept his trap shut on the reply he wanted to give, which was somethin' along the lines of good, 'cause I was about to ask you why you were givin' me an elementary school art project and simply raised an eyebrow before pulling it open and setting the paper to one side.

His expression softened when he saw what it was, and he unfolded the shirt and held it up. "Zeppelin Rules," he read aloud, and the smile he turned on Dean was small, but genuine. "Thankya, son. It'll be a nice break from all the old guy shirts."

[milfweed]

Nancy was sitting on the couch, her shoes safely on the floor, legs curled up underneath her. She had been reading a rather trashy romance novel, and frankly, enjoying the hell out of it. When she heard the jukebox start playing the Beatles song, she glanced up and lifted her eyebrows at Bobby. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't think anything of it," she said, "but given the particular quirks of that jukebox, I'm guessing I owe you a happy birthday. It's Bobby, right?"

[steel_singer]

"Yeah, to both," Bobby said resignedly, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "I guess I shoulda known better than to come into the rec room when I was tryin' to let my birthday pass by without recognition."

[milfweed]

"I promise I won't say a word," Nancy said. "Trust me, I understand all too well." She lowered her voice and offered, "I'm turning forty next month."

[steel_singer]

"Hell, I wish I was turnin' forty," Bobby replied with a dry laugh. "Today's my fifty-eighth."

[great_thief]

The sudden onslaught of music is jarring, and Bela instinctively looks up from her magazine to determine the source of the jukebox's attention. Smirking, she lays the June 2001 issue of Vogue aside and smoothes her palms over her thighs.

"Nice t-shirt," she observes with an arch of one aristocratic eyebrow.

[steel_singer]

"I ain't lookin' to win any beauty contests," Bobby replied gruffly, but his tone lacked the sharpness it once might've held when talkin' to Bela.

[great_thief]

Putting two and two together is easy enough. "Is it impertinent to ask how old you are today?" Bela asks as she settles back in her chair with a slow smile. "Or shall I simply say you look good and leave it at that?"

[steel_singer]

"Fifty-eight," Bobby answered, readily enough. It ain't like he was tryin' to hide his age, not with the ever-increasin' gray in his hair and beard. "Let's say I look old and leave it at that."