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
[ 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. ]