20: [Video/Action] Open Arms

[dashboardlite]

Dean is slumped in one of the easy chairs in his room, seemingly completely oblivious to the camera he's left on the bedside table.  It's at enough of an angle that half his face is obscured by the shadows in the dimly-lit room, and the only sources of illumination are the floor lamp off in the far corner, and the soft electric glow of the radio's face.

The only thing it's been playing today are Journey's greatest hits, but it's been stuck on a loop of Faithfully and Open Arms, which made Dean think, and thinking is always a bad idea when he's convinced that he's fucked up almost every close friendship - or relationship - he's had with anyone since coming here.

Dean is starting to see a pattern, and if the expression of grim pain on his face isn't enough of a giveaway that something is wrong, then the beer bottle dangling from his fingertips over the left arm of the chair ought to be.  Reaching down, he tugs off one of his heavy biker boots and chucks it at the radio, which clatters to the floor and fizzles out of whatever reception it was getting.

He knows he should be happier.  His brother is here.  Sam, Sasquatch that he is, is here - albeit older - the the guilt he feels over moping when he should be catching up with Sam is...really awful, actually.

But everyone has those days, right?

Right?

Comments

[VIDEO]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ The corner of Philip's mouth twitches briefly. It sounds like another one of Dean's 'feeling useless' moments and Philip doesn't particularly subscribe to those at all. ]

Did you ever try?

[ It doesn't sound accusatory, but thinking about it Philip doubts that Dean would be unable to find any job whatsoever.

Now to find a job he wants to do, that is a different thing entirely... ]

[VIDEO]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[You got him, there. Dean purses his lips, thinking. No, he can't remember ever trying something else. He supposes that he could work happily in an auto garage, but being static makes him uncomfortable. Having people know him makes him uncomfortable.

Hell, he feels uncomfortable now, with Philip forcing him to think about things he hasn't thought about before. Grudgingly, he replies,]

...no. I did impersonate a priest for a week for a case once. Played CIA agents, FBI agents...I guess not much about me's real anyway, huh?

[Dean laughs lightly.] I'm off the system, too. According to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, I'm dead. [GRIN.]

If you got any job choices you think I should check out, you lemme know.

[VIDEO]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip thinks Dean could do better than just impersonation. Remembering (too late) how Dean used to talk about a normal life Philip also thinks they should probably not delve into that particular scenatio further. ]

Well, for example if she has a job I could just picture you as the perfect stay at home father.

{ }

[ On platform 3, conversation train leaving Serious Suggestions Town now. ]

[VIDEO]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[He's not even going to say anything.

This is the look that speaks for itself. It says:

You're lucky we're separated by a communicator or your nose would be broken.]

1/2

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ And so the tables have turned, Mister Winchester. *pets goldfish* ]

2/2

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip smiles sheepishly, then clears his throat. ]

So... you're officially dead. Do I even want to ask how that happened?

1/2

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[ What's that, you say? You wanna lose the other eye, Cyclops? ]

2/2 This is the gayest Dean icon I own.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

It's a fun story.

Oh don't say that. You're a beautiful princess, Dean.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

{ }

[ Philip is doubtful that Dean's and his own definition of funny story match, but by this point he's certain that he's heard worse, at the very least. ]

Let's hear it then.

I know where you live. >8I

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Sam and I'd been under surveillance by an FBI agent named Henrickson. He thought we were, uh- [Dean uses fingerquotes.] -"Satan worshipping nutbag killers", 'cause we dug up bodies to salt and burn the remains, and we were sorta shitty about covering up our tracks.

[He snorts.] I mean, we tried explainin' everything to him, multiple times. Ran into him more than once, got chucked into prison more than once. Last time we saw 'im, though, got shoved into a county jail. Place got run over with demons tryin' to get to us, finally he had no choice 'cept to admit we weren't crazy, and that he'd been following us for no reason at all. [Dean rolls his shoulders in a shrug.]

Saved his ass and whoever else was there. Let us walk free after clearin' us right off the records.

[HUGE SMILE. See, he makes friends all the time. Totally.]

;__;

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip shakes his head. ]

What has this world come to when an honest citizen can't even desecrate a grave in peace?

[ And that joke is coming from the guy who saws off people's hands on a regular basis and runs around with a head in his rucksack. ]

...Glad to hear it worked out though.

[ Because it didn't even occur to him what a problem the law would be for Dean, given the things he probably has to do for his "job". And because it's nice to hear about one of his victories after the Apocalypse will happen sounded a little like an all too depressing defea. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Yeah.

[Dean's smile suddenly falters as he remembers what had happened after he and Sam were wiped off the charts. The entire police station had been razed to the ground. By Lilith. Nancy, the sweet, poor girl who hadn't even gotten laid. Henricksen, the FBI agent who was just as lonely as Dean, and not nearly as big a douchebag as he'd made himself out to be. Six others. Dead, and they couldn't have stopped it.

Happy memories? What are those, anyway? Dean hasn't had a happy memory since he was twelve.]

...yeah, it worked out.

[Pull yourself together. That was months ago.]

And grave desecration is hard work, man. Do you have any idea how long it takes to unearth one body?

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Philip's smile slowly follows in faltering as he wonders whether Dean's change in expression should be subject to further enquiry. Does he want to know? Probably, yes. Should he ask? Probably not at all, no. ]

...I haven't given the matter all that much thought, no.

{ }

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[It's best not to ask, really. The less Dean thinks about how many people die in his wake, the better.]

A while, dude. Tough stuff. You try diggin' up six feet of packed dirt, gettin' four hours of sleep, and looking as good as I do. And the drives to get there are-

[He stops, groaning suddenly.]

...oh, god damn it.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

...What?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

My car.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

What about it?

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

I can't believe I haven't even thought about her for...shit, Phil, like a month.

[He's been a little distracted.]

She's my baby, man.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ Cue Ohhh, I get it now! expression. ]

Well. Wonderland isn't exactly a heavy traffic area and you were a little busy. [ Dying. Banging angels. You know... stuff. ]

...So what kind of car is i-- ...she? [ Small smirk. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[All right, yeah, so he's been a little busy. Saving people. Humping things.]

She, [Dean points to Philip, making sure he's got it downpat.] -Is a 1967 Chevy Impala. Smooth black, purrs like a kitten.

[He, uh. May be besotted with his car a little.]

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

And how long have you two been together?

[ It's clearly in good humour; Philip is happy to talk about any subject that does not involve trauma on either man's part. Besides, better to date a car than that bloody angel. ]

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

[Can they actually hold a conversation about something not related to trauma? Let's find out!

Dean holds his hand over his heart, clearly playing along, and makes a simpering expression.]

Since high school, man. I grew up with her. Everyone loves a classic lady, right?

This is the only happy icon I have *sob*

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

And they say true romance is dead.

{ }

GET MORE. MORE, I SAY.

[dashboardlite.livejournal.com]

Ours is a love for the ages, baby.

[sadfreezingbrit.livejournal.com]

[ He smiles, then pauses for a moment. ]

So... what now?

[ After having established that he has a lovely lady he should be thinking about more often, that is. ]

Are you going to put up a picture of her over your bed, or...?

[ Have a minute of silence for her every day? Or... dare Philip suggest it? Find a replacement? ]