19: [Action] American Pie
Jan. 27th, 2011 11:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dashboardlite[ooc; Just for Dean and Dickface Karofsky, guys. c: ]
"A long, long time ago...'nd I can still remember, when that music used to make me smile..."
Dean is usually singing, or humming, something from his "headbanger repertoire", as Sam so aptly tends to put it. Metallica isn't on his mind today, though - most of the mullet-rock isn't, as a matter of fact. He's feeling rather Don McLean, and that tends to happen when Dean's hungry, just as a general rule.
Meandering down to the kitchen in search of the ever-elusive perfect slice of pie, he sidles into the empty room on a mission from God, Hellbent - Well, isn't that ironic? - to procure some quality comestibles to keep his stomach from digesting itself. Deftly sliding open a drawer and whipping out a fork, he scrutinizes the majestically magical food-cabinet carefully, considering his options. He usually gets apple.
Time to be adventurous.
Thinking really hard about a steamin' hot slice of peach pie, he's pleased to find as much when he opens the little door, and Dean leans up against the counter in the far corner of the kitchen, digging in.
"A long, long time ago...'nd I can still remember, when that music used to make me smile..."
Dean is usually singing, or humming, something from his "headbanger repertoire", as Sam so aptly tends to put it. Metallica isn't on his mind today, though - most of the mullet-rock isn't, as a matter of fact. He's feeling rather Don McLean, and that tends to happen when Dean's hungry, just as a general rule.
Meandering down to the kitchen in search of the ever-elusive perfect slice of pie, he sidles into the empty room on a mission from God, Hellbent - Well, isn't that ironic? - to procure some quality comestibles to keep his stomach from digesting itself. Deftly sliding open a drawer and whipping out a fork, he scrutinizes the majestically magical food-cabinet carefully, considering his options. He usually gets apple.
Time to be adventurous.
Thinking really hard about a steamin' hot slice of peach pie, he's pleased to find as much when he opens the little door, and Dean leans up against the counter in the far corner of the kitchen, digging in.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:16 am (UTC)"Okay," he says again. There's no intent behind the word, no meaning at all, but again, he has to say something.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-01 01:28 am (UTC)Dave doesn't appear to believe anything, though, so that doesn't particularly surprise Dean. The hunter leans back on the kitchen table and surveys his handiwork: Busted lip, reddened ear, black eye. The blood is starting to pool under Dave's skin, and Dean knows that shiner's gonna last at least a few weeks.
That oughta knock him off his high horse.
"...I'll see you around, Dave," Dean finally replies gruffly after a few beats, using the kid's real name for the first time. He pushes away from the table, turns, and walks - calmly - out of the kitchen, without looking back.
And whistles the riff to "Only the Good Die Young".