[ It makes perfect sense right now. But he's also too drunk to care about fighting to argue his case, which is probably another point in the 'not okay' category. ]
considering how many low points i've hit over the past few years. this is practically a vacation by comparison
are you on your way or what
[ Not that sobriety is making an appearance for him anytime soon. ]
[ He's practically merged with the couch. Going out was never a part of the plan. When Dean does arrive he'll find Sam sprawled out across a corner of it, wearing one of his older t-shirts and jeans, and flipping aimlessly through channels on the tv. It's more for background noise than because he has any real interest in watching anything. The empty whiskey bottle - which did have quite a lot left in it before he got his hands on it earlier - is sitting in front of him along with a similarly empty glass.
It would have been more constructive to find some work to do. Or hell, even to call up one of the numbers in his phone for some company, it's not as if he's lacking in options there, but he ended up doing neither. ]
[ Booze isn't the most subtle smell, but Dean isn't really as bothered by it as he pretends when walking in and letting the apartment door close behind him. There's a bag in his hand, and it isn't a difficult job to guess what's inside.
Dean knows this show, he's been the star many times. Sam's running, and alcohol is his vehicle of choice. Concerning, but not unheard of.
[ It's not that bad, or at least Sam is convinced so, but he just gives Dean a dry, vaguely irritated look at the observation. As if his brother could be one to judge, even if it does. When it comes to trying to drink their problems away, there's a clear winner and they both know it.
The bag gets a much less withering look, though he's not jumping at it as if he desperately needs it. No, he'll casually pull out the bottle and open it to pour himself another two fingers of whiskey, clearly not entirely steady, but at least he doesn't miss the glass. It might have made sense to get another glass for Dean, but he's capable of handling his own, so Sam sets the bottle back down with a dull thud against the table before turning his attention to the question.
Of course Dean was gonna ask. ]
Aside the usual crap, you mean?
[ Like they don't have a few reasons to drink on a 'normal' day around here. But the real answer to the question is kind of a rabbit hole that Sam's not sure he wants to go down, even if getting it off his chest might help. ]
[ The alcohol around Dean smells, too, when he drinks too much. As people have pointed out, on occasion. If you let yourself drown it, there are signs.
Just as idly but with more grace as he's currently the sober one, he grabs his own glass and sits down beside Sam, silently pouring his own. ]
The normal crap didn't have you downin' this much stuff yesterday so yeah, besides the usual crap.
[ Because anything could be happening here, and that's horrifying. Sam's a big guy who can usually defend himself, but they've both lost a fight in their lives. Had something sexual happened? Or, had the city of perverts made him do something? ]
[ It's definitely been a while since he had this much to drink in one evening, and the hangover in the morning is going to make him regret this, but all of that seems like a long way off right now. Sam just lets the room tilt around him for a minute until he forces his gaze to focus on his brother, frowning as he considers how to respond to that. Dean really has no idea, and that's probably a credit to how good the 'little' brother's gotten at repressing things. He's had some damn good teachers, after all.
He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, pointedly not knocking back the whole glass. ]
It's not about what happened today.
[ Which isn't exactly completely true, but he's focusing on the 'not' part right now. ]
It's just... getting to me, I guess. This place. Being stuck here like rats in a maze. No monsters, no ghosts, no hunting. That should be a good thing. I'm a freaking lawyer, Dean.
[ Dean knows that Sam is about as okay as he is, which is to say he isn't okay at all. But drinking is a low he rarely reaches, unlike Dean himself.
But he always feels so useless when Sam needs him like this. If he needs somebody to have his back in a hunt, Dean's there. If he needs somebody to stop yet another self-sacrifice, Dean is there. Emotional comfort? He doesn't know how that works. They were men, they picked themselves up and pushed on. It's unhealthy, Dean knows that. He's come to realize that no matter how much he loves John, his teachings weren't perfect. But even realizing that it would be better to address these emotional issues, he's ill-equipped. ]
It ain't easy just turnin' it off. We're hunters, Sam.
[ Which, admittedly, may not be the most comforting thing to hear, but Dean's trying to say he understands. Even when he 'quit' hunting, the flashbacks came daily, the muscle memory never faded. ]
But that don't mean you don't got a place here. People still need us. That family motto... [ The one they hadn't used in...how long? ] Saving people, huntin' things. That stands, Dude. Even here. Maybe what we hunt is different, but there's still people in need of savin'. You need a break, I get that. We'll drink until we can't drink no more, hate ourselves for the hangover, and get back up. But it ain't gonna be because nobody needs us because they sure as hell do.
I don't feel like I'm saving anyone. Just like I'm going in circles.
[ He helps them, sure. He sorts out contracts, gets people out of bullshit charges that they never should have had to deal with, some of them on his own time rather than the firm's. It just seems like it's all ultimately pointless when the city grinds on the same, and no one here really has a choice. They're all trapped, and so far no one's found anything like a way out. The only way out seems to be to wait around long enough for the city to get bored of them. It's not a great plan.
It's more than that though. There's just no real 'hunter' work here. Unless ghosts start popping out of the woodwork, which wouldn't exactly surprise him, all things considered, but he's been here for months and so far he's seen nothing. A couple of vampires, a few assorted non-humans, all of which are just newly arrived citizens like they are, and none of which seem hellbent on causing problems.
And then there's his personal life, that he never expected to have when he showed up here.
He downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass. ]
Emma's dead ex... something showed up here in the city a few days ago. [ He snorts humorlessly. ] Apparently I'm good at bringing those back from the dead for everyone but myself.
[ He didn't bring Amelia's husband back from anything, but he was supposed to be dead, and it's still a hell of a coincidence. ]
[ Yeah, he's thought about that. He's not sure how he would feel about Dad being stuck with them in this sex-driven city, aside from awkward, but he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't be glad as hell to see him. They would all drive each other insane, just like they always did, obviously. He'd still take it.
He shakes his head at his brother, not exactly arguing, not exactly agreeing. Amelia didn't dump him either. He's the one who left. It wasn't just about her husband, not really, but he's been thinking about those reasons and how many of them are still relevant. Or that should be. ]
I know. She... just wants things to go back to normal now, I guess.
[ He makes a slightly unsteady grab for the bottle of whiskey, focusing harder than necessary to pour more into his glass. He can feel Dean's eyes on him, but he's not returning the look. ]
That's one way to put it.
[ It's a well past 'like' at this point, and Sam knows it. ]
[ So, Sam's spoken to her about it, and that was his answer. Ouch. Or, is he assuming? He's a smart ki -- No, kid can't be used for him, not any longer. He's smart, but he can also be stupid about relationships. It's why Dean took it on him to help his little brother out.
But now? Now this is more complicated. ]
Yeah? You talked to her about it already? Cause Emma, she gets a say in this, too. Normal's not gonna happen here, not for any of us. [ It isn't that he doesn't get wanting a piece of what was, but Duplicity isn't known for offering that to its citizens. ] You get all caught up in that head of yours, makin' decisions for her, you're just goin' to miss out on somethin' she still might want to give.
[ Dean doesn't even mean sex. He's not the lustful idiot he once played. There's a lot more to a loving relationship than what happens between the sheets. ]
[ Confusion furrows Sam's brows, but he finishes his drink of whiskey before frowning over at his brother. It's hard to argue with the overall gist of it, he's not at all surprised that Dean could hit the nail on the head like this, though that's something they just went through. He hadn't mentioned any of that conversation to anyone else, but it's like Dean was there.
Of course it's not like these tendencies are news to him. He knows how easily his little brother gets caught up in overthinking everything. And in thinking that he knows better than everyone else. But that's not what he's doing this time. ]
It's not like that. She knows I'm here for her, she knows and I told her that, but she doesn't want me getting all clingy. That's why I'm here and not over there with her.
[ He gestures toward Dean with the hand holding his glass, barely avoiding spilling it. ]
And before you say anything, I'm fine. She wants space, I get it.
[ It's a humorless laugh. They don't even really pretend to believe the word anymore. When one of them uses that specific phrase, it's actually code for 'I'm shitty, but what are you going to do?' They had faced a lot of situations in which words couldn't sooth the wounds so can anyone really blame them for wanting to keep things inside?
It sucks. Sam losing Emma. He knows it likely seems like everyone Sam loves either leaves or gets taken from him. Hell, maybe it's the curse of the hunter.
Dean takes another drink himself. ]
I guess I don't really know her. When she's here, you two are pretty much connected like you're tryin' to be some kind of gross blob thing. But yeah, it's probably a bitch for her, too. I think you're right. She just needs time. But you're already decidin' you're the loser. Dude, you're a Winchester.
[ Grinning, he wiggles his eyebrows playfully and takes another drink. ]
[ Yeah, 'fine.' It's ceased to mean anything like it's supposed to between the two of them, and honestly Sam can't be bothered to pretend otherwise right now. Emma's suffering, likely finding some way to distract herself right now. He could call her, he always does before the night is out anyway, but usually not this early. She's probably busy. It's easier not to know for sure.
Dean pulls him from those thoughts and it finally occurs to him, very belatedly, that this is exactly what that looks like. And yeah, he would have to admit that he's probably guilty of thinking too much about how this could end up changing things for them, but it's not like that.
Even if it would be pretty damn amusing to hear Dean build him up like he's a 'catch.' ]
Really, man? Since when?
[ He's shaking his head as he sinks back against the couch, but at least it got a smile out of him for a second. ]
Things have been pretty good lately, aside this guy showing up, anyway. She seems happy. Maybe I shouldn't be trying to rock the boat.
See, you're doin' it again. Dude, overthinkin' doesn't help anybody; not you, not her. Emma's a grown woman so stop treatin' her like she can't make this call. Give her time, give her space, but don't pretend like you're some kinda mind reader. I've seen you in action, and your game would be way better if you could read minds.
[ It's a quick change from calling him a catch, but Dean can't get too sappy on him. There's some kind of rule in the sibling's playbook. ]
And turn off your device before you end up drunk dialin' her and embarrassin' both of us. [ Dean would get some second-hand embarrassment. ] You're too drink to be tryin' anything tonight. Might as well make the hangover worth it and try again when you're not dancin' with Dr. Whiskey.
[ Not what, about her? It is, just not like Dean's implying. He knows she'll work herself out, and there's no reason to feel like she's shutting him out in the process. She wants a distraction, he has distractions of his own, he's not judging. His personal dilemma hasn't really changed at all. The only thing that's different now is that he has unplanned time to stew on it.
It's hard to give up the urge to argue, but whether or not he could steer it around to what's really bugging him, it wouldn't help. Dean couldn't possibly have any easy answers for him, so what's the point in giving him more things to worry about?
He snorts over the drunk dialing comment, taking another drink of his whiskey and pulling said device out of his pocket. ]
I'm not calling her right now. [ But he's defiantly refusing to turn it off anyway, rolling his eyes at Dean as he flicks through a few of the most recent notifications. ] Maybe I should call somebody who's not gonna just lecture me on how I think too much.
[ Honestly he likes having Dean's company, but that won't stop him from being contrary. Where would they be without pointless drunk arguments? ]
Good luck with that. Don't think there's anybody who wouldn't see you think too much.
[ Dean's eyes flickered toward the phone, assuring he wasn't actually calling Emma. Sam might be confident in the drunk version of himself, but Dean wasn't. Drunk people were often honest, too honest, and said thinks that their sober selves often regretted. By keeping an eye on Sam, Dean was doing him a favor. ]
You hungry?
[ When Dean fails to see him actually dialing any particular number, he pushes himself off the couch and heads for the kitchen. ]
[ At first the way Sam's poking through his phone is more out of a petulant defiance, almost daring Dean to try to take it away from him, but once he's not being closely scrutinized, he turns to the texts and starts tapping more methodically at the screen. It's not to Emma, though, he's not going to text her while he's a drunk mess like this. She'll call later. She always does.
In the meantime it's not as if he's going anywhere, and texting seems like a fantastic way to pass the time, though whether or not it'll pull him out of his sullen mood is another question.
Food sounds even better. ]
Yeah, sure.
[ He knows he shouldn't, but he pours himself another glass of whiskey anyway. He doesn't plan on sobering up too soon. ]
I don't need a babysitter. [ He calls back toward the kitchen rather than trying to push himself up from the couch. ] If you've got plans, don't let me ruin 'em.
Maybe you do a babysitter, but it ain't me. If you're goin' with the babysitter idea, good on you, but I'm leavin' when she shows up.
[ A joke as he pulls out the ingredients for the simple meal. This really is more of a hangover dish, but Dean needs something to distract Sam.
Turning the stove on to heat, he looks back toward the living room, if only to keep talking while he idly does the tasks that require less concentration. ]
'Course I got plans. I always got plans. But I can change 'em. A good drink, a hot grilled cheese, that's a plan, too.
[ It should feel familiar, cooking a quick bite of food while Sam sits in another room. As children, it was easy dishes, but he offered something better here and there as adults. But it doesn't feel the same. Normally, Sam isn't as drunk. ]
[ Sam snorts, looking up from his phone. He has a glass of whiskey, but he's mostly just holding onto it rather than actually drinking it. He knows he's skirting the line of how much he can have before he just passes out entirely, and he's not ready to turn in and wait for the hangover to hit him just yet. And eating something should help alleviate some of the inevitable pain. ]
If I'm gettin' a babysitter, I'm going over to her place.
[ Dean's probably noticed that Sam doesn't invite people over for anything other than platonic terms, aside from Emma. It does help cut down on the awkward situations they run into here, but he's gotten a lot less awkward about it in general. If Dean wants to bring someone in while he's here, he doesn't care. It's a big apartment, and the walls are notably not at all thin.
He's gotten used to a lot of things he never thought he would have to deal with. ]
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[ What else would he have done with it? ]
I'm fine by the way
[ He knows what kind of face Dean's making at him right now. ]
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[ But Dean doesn't mind. ]
yeah sure you're are. we're always fine.
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it doesn't help
[ Flawless logic. ]
anyway what have I got to complain about that everyone else doesn't?
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[ The book of wishful thinking? ]
we got a pretty long list
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considering how many low points i've hit over the past few years. this is practically a vacation by comparison
are you on your way or what
[ Not that sobriety is making an appearance for him anytime soon. ]
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it takes time to buy stuff and then ride up. i'm coming so stay there
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[ He's practically merged with the couch. Going out was never a part of the plan. When Dean does arrive he'll find Sam sprawled out across a corner of it, wearing one of his older t-shirts and jeans, and flipping aimlessly through channels on the tv. It's more for background noise than because he has any real interest in watching anything. The empty whiskey bottle - which did have quite a lot left in it before he got his hands on it earlier - is sitting in front of him along with a similarly empty glass.
It would have been more constructive to find some work to do. Or hell, even to call up one of the numbers in his phone for some company, it's not as if he's lacking in options there, but he ended up doing neither. ]
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[ Booze isn't the most subtle smell, but Dean isn't really as bothered by it as he pretends when walking in and letting the apartment door close behind him. There's a bag in his hand, and it isn't a difficult job to guess what's inside.
Dean knows this show, he's been the star many times. Sam's running, and alcohol is his vehicle of choice. Concerning, but not unheard of.
He plops the bag down in front of Sam. ]
You wanna tell me what's really goin' on now?
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The bag gets a much less withering look, though he's not jumping at it as if he desperately needs it. No, he'll casually pull out the bottle and open it to pour himself another two fingers of whiskey, clearly not entirely steady, but at least he doesn't miss the glass. It might have made sense to get another glass for Dean, but he's capable of handling his own, so Sam sets the bottle back down with a dull thud against the table before turning his attention to the question.
Of course Dean was gonna ask. ]
Aside the usual crap, you mean?
[ Like they don't have a few reasons to drink on a 'normal' day around here. But the real answer to the question is kind of a rabbit hole that Sam's not sure he wants to go down, even if getting it off his chest might help. ]
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Just as idly but with more grace as he's currently the sober one, he grabs his own glass and sits down beside Sam, silently pouring his own. ]
The normal crap didn't have you downin' this much stuff yesterday so yeah, besides the usual crap.
[ Because anything could be happening here, and that's horrifying. Sam's a big guy who can usually defend himself, but they've both lost a fight in their lives. Had something sexual happened? Or, had the city of perverts made him do something? ]
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He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, pointedly not knocking back the whole glass. ]
It's not about what happened today.
[ Which isn't exactly completely true, but he's focusing on the 'not' part right now. ]
It's just... getting to me, I guess. This place. Being stuck here like rats in a maze. No monsters, no ghosts, no hunting. That should be a good thing. I'm a freaking lawyer, Dean.
[ Except... ]
But I'm not. Not really.
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But he always feels so useless when Sam needs him like this. If he needs somebody to have his back in a hunt, Dean's there. If he needs somebody to stop yet another self-sacrifice, Dean is there. Emotional comfort? He doesn't know how that works. They were men, they picked themselves up and pushed on. It's unhealthy, Dean knows that. He's come to realize that no matter how much he loves John, his teachings weren't perfect. But even realizing that it would be better to address these emotional issues, he's ill-equipped. ]
It ain't easy just turnin' it off. We're hunters, Sam.
[ Which, admittedly, may not be the most comforting thing to hear, but Dean's trying to say he understands. Even when he 'quit' hunting, the flashbacks came daily, the muscle memory never faded. ]
But that don't mean you don't got a place here. People still need us. That family motto... [ The one they hadn't used in...how long? ] Saving people, huntin' things. That stands, Dude. Even here. Maybe what we hunt is different, but there's still people in need of savin'. You need a break, I get that. We'll drink until we can't drink no more, hate ourselves for the hangover, and get back up. But it ain't gonna be because nobody needs us because they sure as hell do.
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[ He helps them, sure. He sorts out contracts, gets people out of bullshit charges that they never should have had to deal with, some of them on his own time rather than the firm's. It just seems like it's all ultimately pointless when the city grinds on the same, and no one here really has a choice. They're all trapped, and so far no one's found anything like a way out. The only way out seems to be to wait around long enough for the city to get bored of them. It's not a great plan.
It's more than that though. There's just no real 'hunter' work here. Unless ghosts start popping out of the woodwork, which wouldn't exactly surprise him, all things considered, but he's been here for months and so far he's seen nothing. A couple of vampires, a few assorted non-humans, all of which are just newly arrived citizens like they are, and none of which seem hellbent on causing problems.
And then there's his personal life, that he never expected to have when he showed up here.
He downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass. ]
Emma's dead ex... something showed up here in the city a few days ago. [ He snorts humorlessly. ] Apparently I'm good at bringing those back from the dead for everyone but myself.
[ He didn't bring Amelia's husband back from anything, but he was supposed to be dead, and it's still a hell of a coincidence. ]
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[ That doesn't make Sam worry anymore, Dean knows that. Because that's what this is about: he doesn't want to lose Emma. ]
Just because somebody else showed up don't mean she's gonna be dumpin' you. You're her 'somethin', too.
[ Dean takes the first drink, of the night, from his own glass, but all of his attention stays on Sam. ]
You like her, don't you?
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[ Yeah, he's thought about that. He's not sure how he would feel about Dad being stuck with them in this sex-driven city, aside from awkward, but he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't be glad as hell to see him. They would all drive each other insane, just like they always did, obviously. He'd still take it.
He shakes his head at his brother, not exactly arguing, not exactly agreeing. Amelia didn't dump him either. He's the one who left. It wasn't just about her husband, not really, but he's been thinking about those reasons and how many of them are still relevant. Or that should be. ]
I know. She... just wants things to go back to normal now, I guess.
[ He makes a slightly unsteady grab for the bottle of whiskey, focusing harder than necessary to pour more into his glass. He can feel Dean's eyes on him, but he's not returning the look. ]
That's one way to put it.
[ It's a well past 'like' at this point, and Sam knows it. ]
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But now? Now this is more complicated. ]
Yeah? You talked to her about it already? Cause Emma, she gets a say in this, too. Normal's not gonna happen here, not for any of us. [ It isn't that he doesn't get wanting a piece of what was, but Duplicity isn't known for offering that to its citizens. ] You get all caught up in that head of yours, makin' decisions for her, you're just goin' to miss out on somethin' she still might want to give.
[ Dean doesn't even mean sex. He's not the lustful idiot he once played. There's a lot more to a loving relationship than what happens between the sheets. ]
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Of course it's not like these tendencies are news to him. He knows how easily his little brother gets caught up in overthinking everything. And in thinking that he knows better than everyone else. But that's not what he's doing this time. ]
It's not like that. She knows I'm here for her, she knows and I told her that, but she doesn't want me getting all clingy. That's why I'm here and not over there with her.
[ He gestures toward Dean with the hand holding his glass, barely avoiding spilling it. ]
And before you say anything, I'm fine. She wants space, I get it.
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[ It's a humorless laugh. They don't even really pretend to believe the word anymore. When one of them uses that specific phrase, it's actually code for 'I'm shitty, but what are you going to do?' They had faced a lot of situations in which words couldn't sooth the wounds so can anyone really blame them for wanting to keep things inside?
It sucks. Sam losing Emma. He knows it likely seems like everyone Sam loves either leaves or gets taken from him. Hell, maybe it's the curse of the hunter.
Dean takes another drink himself. ]
I guess I don't really know her. When she's here, you two are pretty much connected like you're tryin' to be some kind of gross blob thing. But yeah, it's probably a bitch for her, too. I think you're right. She just needs time. But you're already decidin' you're the loser. Dude, you're a Winchester.
[ Grinning, he wiggles his eyebrows playfully and takes another drink. ]
We're catches.
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Dean pulls him from those thoughts and it finally occurs to him, very belatedly, that this is exactly what that looks like. And yeah, he would have to admit that he's probably guilty of thinking too much about how this could end up changing things for them, but it's not like that.
Even if it would be pretty damn amusing to hear Dean build him up like he's a 'catch.' ]
Really, man? Since when?
[ He's shaking his head as he sinks back against the couch, but at least it got a smile out of him for a second. ]
Things have been pretty good lately, aside this guy showing up, anyway. She seems happy. Maybe I shouldn't be trying to rock the boat.
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[ It's a quick change from calling him a catch, but Dean can't get too sappy on him. There's some kind of rule in the sibling's playbook. ]
And turn off your device before you end up drunk dialin' her and embarrassin' both of us. [ Dean would get some second-hand embarrassment. ] You're too drink to be tryin' anything tonight. Might as well make the hangover worth it and try again when you're not dancin' with Dr. Whiskey.
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[ Not what, about her? It is, just not like Dean's implying. He knows she'll work herself out, and there's no reason to feel like she's shutting him out in the process. She wants a distraction, he has distractions of his own, he's not judging. His personal dilemma hasn't really changed at all. The only thing that's different now is that he has unplanned time to stew on it.
It's hard to give up the urge to argue, but whether or not he could steer it around to what's really bugging him, it wouldn't help. Dean couldn't possibly have any easy answers for him, so what's the point in giving him more things to worry about?
He snorts over the drunk dialing comment, taking another drink of his whiskey and pulling said device out of his pocket. ]
I'm not calling her right now. [ But he's defiantly refusing to turn it off anyway, rolling his eyes at Dean as he flicks through a few of the most recent notifications. ] Maybe I should call somebody who's not gonna just lecture me on how I think too much.
[ Honestly he likes having Dean's company, but that won't stop him from being contrary. Where would they be without pointless drunk arguments? ]
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[ Dean's eyes flickered toward the phone, assuring he wasn't actually calling Emma. Sam might be confident in the drunk version of himself, but Dean wasn't. Drunk people were often honest, too honest, and said thinks that their sober selves often regretted. By keeping an eye on Sam, Dean was doing him a favor. ]
You hungry?
[ When Dean fails to see him actually dialing any particular number, he pushes himself off the couch and heads for the kitchen. ]
I'm starvin'. Grilled cheese?
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In the meantime it's not as if he's going anywhere, and texting seems like a fantastic way to pass the time, though whether or not it'll pull him out of his sullen mood is another question.
Food sounds even better. ]
Yeah, sure.
[ He knows he shouldn't, but he pours himself another glass of whiskey anyway. He doesn't plan on sobering up too soon. ]
I don't need a babysitter. [ He calls back toward the kitchen rather than trying to push himself up from the couch. ] If you've got plans, don't let me ruin 'em.
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[ A joke as he pulls out the ingredients for the simple meal. This really is more of a hangover dish, but Dean needs something to distract Sam.
Turning the stove on to heat, he looks back toward the living room, if only to keep talking while he idly does the tasks that require less concentration. ]
'Course I got plans. I always got plans. But I can change 'em. A good drink, a hot grilled cheese, that's a plan, too.
[ It should feel familiar, cooking a quick bite of food while Sam sits in another room. As children, it was easy dishes, but he offered something better here and there as adults. But it doesn't feel the same. Normally, Sam isn't as drunk. ]
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If I'm gettin' a babysitter, I'm going over to her place.
[ Dean's probably noticed that Sam doesn't invite people over for anything other than platonic terms, aside from Emma. It does help cut down on the awkward situations they run into here, but he's gotten a lot less awkward about it in general. If Dean wants to bring someone in while he's here, he doesn't care. It's a big apartment, and the walls are notably not at all thin.
He's gotten used to a lot of things he never thought he would have to deal with. ]
You don't do plans. I do plans.
[ Except when he gets impulsive. ]
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