[ 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. ]
Believe it or not, Sam, I don't just go around knockin' on doors, and go in for sex with whoever answers.
[ Dean doesn't plan as much as Sam in their fighting life - there are a few he's been proud of - but when it comes to relationships, he can make plans for the next day, just like the rest of them. ]
This part of your plan? Eatin' grilled cheese and hopin' your head's not gonna explode in the mornin'? It will. The hangover is gonna suck.
[ And Sam knows. Boyscout he can be, Sam has had run ins with alcohol before.
The sound of something frying wafts through the apartment as he finally adds the sandwich to the pan. ]
[ Said in deeply condescending tones, as if it's an incredibly immature assumption to make. Around here it really isn't. Sex is rarely the last implication on anyone's mind. Right now it's nothing but an annoyance that Sam doesn't want to be reminded of. If the city wasn't so hellbent on making it such a constant - and central - thing he wouldn't be dealing with half as many problems as he currently has. ]
I know it is.
[ He's resigned to the hangover. He'll chug as much water as he can stand before he finally passes out, but nothing would stop the inevitable. He'll probably wish he could die in the morning, but of course he'd never be granted anything so easily. ]
But I'm hungry.
[ One grilled cheese definitely won't do it. If that's all Dean's planning on, he'll just ransack the kitchen for more things to eat that don't require cooking. ]
What kinda plans are you even talkin' about? Movies? Takin' them to the spring dance? Look around, Sam. This place don't really give you the fancy options.
[ But he does spend time with girls that don't involve sex. He and Raven went swimming once. He taught her how to swim. She was nearly naked and he was still a good boy. So, he pats his own back. ]
Food's not done and you're already complainin'? It's not like we really stock up in here. [ Maybe they should buy more groceries. He'd found a certain pride in it when they'd first arrived at the bunker, but there's not a lot of pride to be found in Duplicity. ]
I'll make you more than one, but don't blame me if you lose all of it tonight. And you're cleanin' it up.
I was thinking about back when we used to be hunters.
[ He almost regrets admitting it the moment the words leave his mouth, even if it's not meant as an irritable barb aimed at his brother. In the contrary, it's a bitter sentiment that's equally applicable to both of them, and one that is at least a significant part of why Sam's gotten so deep into the whiskey this evening. He doesn't want to drag Dean into depression right along with him.
It was one thing back when Dean had Lisa and Ben, and maybe even that wouldn't have lasted had it been given a real chance. Sam would like to think that it is, but in what life are they ever going to stay out of hunting for good? But here they have been. They haven't had a single reason to break out Dad's old journal except for nostalgia, and if it's proven anything to him it's that he really can't go back to the kind of life he wanted when he was a kid.
Sure, this place is fucked up, but in as many ways as it's chaos, there are more days when he's working nine to five, and it feels eerily like the short stint he had in tech support thanks to Zacariah. ]
I'm not gonna get sick.
[ Not today anyway. But he's aware that any hangover symptoms will be all his to deal with. ]
Sammy, we're still hunters. Maybe there's nothin' takin' bites outta people's necks around here, but the hunter, that don't just leave. Ever.
[ Which could be good or bad, depending on your view. Once, Dean hoped it never would. During another part of his life, he wished it would. Now? He doesn't know. Probably, he's accepted this as his life and works to find pleasure in it.
Not in this city. This city has to go down. ]
Oh, Dude, you're gonna be so sick, and you're all in charge of cleanin' it up so enjoy tonight. Mornin's a bitch.
[ The smell of butter and cooking cheese soon flows from the kitchen to contaminate the living room. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ Dean doesn't plan as much as Sam in their fighting life - there are a few he's been proud of - but when it comes to relationships, he can make plans for the next day, just like the rest of them. ]
This part of your plan? Eatin' grilled cheese and hopin' your head's not gonna explode in the mornin'? It will. The hangover is gonna suck.
[ And Sam knows. Boyscout he can be, Sam has had run ins with alcohol before.
The sound of something frying wafts through the apartment as he finally adds the sandwich to the pan. ]
no subject
[ Said in deeply condescending tones, as if it's an incredibly immature assumption to make. Around here it really isn't. Sex is rarely the last implication on anyone's mind. Right now it's nothing but an annoyance that Sam doesn't want to be reminded of. If the city wasn't so hellbent on making it such a constant - and central - thing he wouldn't be dealing with half as many problems as he currently has. ]
I know it is.
[ He's resigned to the hangover. He'll chug as much water as he can stand before he finally passes out, but nothing would stop the inevitable. He'll probably wish he could die in the morning, but of course he'd never be granted anything so easily. ]
But I'm hungry.
[ One grilled cheese definitely won't do it. If that's all Dean's planning on, he'll just ransack the kitchen for more things to eat that don't require cooking. ]
no subject
[ But he does spend time with girls that don't involve sex. He and Raven went swimming once. He taught her how to swim. She was nearly naked and he was still a good boy. So, he pats his own back. ]
Food's not done and you're already complainin'? It's not like we really stock up in here. [ Maybe they should buy more groceries. He'd found a certain pride in it when they'd first arrived at the bunker, but there's not a lot of pride to be found in Duplicity. ]
I'll make you more than one, but don't blame me if you lose all of it tonight. And you're cleanin' it up.
no subject
[ He almost regrets admitting it the moment the words leave his mouth, even if it's not meant as an irritable barb aimed at his brother. In the contrary, it's a bitter sentiment that's equally applicable to both of them, and one that is at least a significant part of why Sam's gotten so deep into the whiskey this evening. He doesn't want to drag Dean into depression right along with him.
It was one thing back when Dean had Lisa and Ben, and maybe even that wouldn't have lasted had it been given a real chance. Sam would like to think that it is, but in what life are they ever going to stay out of hunting for good? But here they have been. They haven't had a single reason to break out Dad's old journal except for nostalgia, and if it's proven anything to him it's that he really can't go back to the kind of life he wanted when he was a kid.
Sure, this place is fucked up, but in as many ways as it's chaos, there are more days when he's working nine to five, and it feels eerily like the short stint he had in tech support thanks to Zacariah. ]
I'm not gonna get sick.
[ Not today anyway. But he's aware that any hangover symptoms will be all his to deal with. ]
no subject
[ Which could be good or bad, depending on your view. Once, Dean hoped it never would. During another part of his life, he wished it would. Now? He doesn't know. Probably, he's accepted this as his life and works to find pleasure in it.
Not in this city. This city has to go down. ]
Oh, Dude, you're gonna be so sick, and you're all in charge of cleanin' it up so enjoy tonight. Mornin's a bitch.
[ The smell of butter and cooking cheese soon flows from the kitchen to contaminate the living room. ]