somebody tryin&#39; just to stay alive

[Santana still found it strange that Kurt ever worked in a garage. And she could tell what he was doing, so WATCH OUT. You may find yourself tripping. Down the stairs.

Aaaand she jumps in before Dean can answer.]

I've seen his car. It's huge. Some people would say that's overcompensating for something, but I never would. [Except for how she just did. But she sounds sincere!]

Edited Date: 2010-11-01 03:01 am (UTC)

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A Lincoln Navigator?

[Dean rubs his chin, smiling a little.]

Lincolns have bad reps, I'll give you that, but they're not bad cars. Don't have one myself, but I know a few people who have. S'pretty fucking huge, though. Like a tank. Good that you can get your hands dirty; no offense, you don't exactly look the type.

[For dramatic effect, Dean pauses before elaborating on his own motor vehicle.]

My baby's a 1967 Chevy Impala, smooth black, with the damn nicest leather interior you ever touched. Purrs like a kitten.

[He quirks a little flirtatious grin at Santana, waggling his eyebrows.]

Few things I like better than gettin' greased up and sweaty, workin' for somethin' so sexy.

[He isn't really sure himself whether or not that was a deliberate euphemism for something else entirely. Probably so.]

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[]

Oh, well, you know. It gets me around Lima with its plush interior and spinning rims. []

And I suppose I can forgive that. Most people tend to make blatant assumptions based entirely on my voice, appearance, and excellent sense of fashion. Besides, I have a pair of coveralls, so it isn't as though I would be working in this.

[]

An Impala, hm? You must be a vintage car man, I suppose. I'll have to take your word for it, but it's a shame I can't see it for myself. I'd love to hear it purr with my own ears.

[]

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His coveralls have glitter on them. It's very pretty. [I HATE YOU KURT. YOU STOLE MY LINES.]

God, these stairs take forever.

[She keeps her focus on Dean (and the steps. She doesn't want to fall), smiling at him yet some more. It's more than she's smiled in the entire time she's been stuck there!]

Your car sounds super hot. I bet you look good all sweaty, too. Not a lot of guys can pull that look off, you know. And I love leather seats. [Not that she has a lot of experience in the backs of cars with leather seats. No, seriously. They're usually cloth.]

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[Still grinning about being able to rattle off about the Impala, Dean nods in agreement with Kurt. It isn't easy to find people who share his passion for automobiles, particularly if they're younger.]

The Metallicar's been in the family since my dad got it in '73. [He looks ridiculously proud of this fact. It's a sweet ride and still badass at forty years, goin' strong.] Damn shame it couldn't've been thrown into this clusterfuck with the rest of us.

[Santana's getting pretty close to him over on one side. He's had plenty of experience on those leather seats - IF CARS COULD TALK - and the look she's giving him is more than suggestive. It's like an invitation.

...and Hell, he is sexy when he's sweaty and covered in car oil. He will accept that compliment.]

And thanks. [Offers her another one of his signature smiles, figuring that a little light flirting can't hurt for the time being. Particularly when these stairs take FREAKING FOREVER. The older man takes a moment to mumble.]

All this might be worth it, too, if the kitchen's gotta pie and a cheeseburger with my name on 'em.

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They are not glittery. There's no point to that if they're just going to get covered in oil and grease! []

[]

Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to find something there. You can find almost anything there, with little to no effort involved whatsoever. []

[] I agree though - it's a shame it couldn't have come with you. But unfortunately, I wasn't just being facetious when I said there was no where to go. There's forest, an ocean, hills, and miles of fence surrounding this place, and there aren't any roads to be found. It would wind up sitting stationary, and that would be a real shame, since you must have put so much effort into its upkeep.

[] ...Well, maybe if we had a garage it might be worth it. []

[]

Edited Date: 2010-11-01 05:57 am (UTC)

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[SHE KNOWS YOU'RE GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY, KURT. That's all that matters.]

I wonder what would happen if we did try to drive away. Like, would the Queen stop us, or is the fence electric or something? [Hey look, she was distracted from flirting for a second! That won't do at all.]

Anyway, I totally agree. It would be worth it in the end. There are things you can do with a car even if it's not being driven.

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[Stepping out onto the ground floor, he isn't surprised to see that it looks exactly like the tenth floor. Fucking brilliant. Everything's identical. Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckles a little at Santana's comment.]

Yeah, there's more than one thing you can do with a car besides drive i-

[Dean stops short, snapping his mouth shut so fast his teeth click. Wow. Wow, okay. He did not just get some interesting mental pictures. He's gotta concentrate on important things, like cheeseburgers and pie and not sex on leather seats with fogged-up windows and Ramble On playing on the radio. Dean coughs.]

...right. So where's this kitchen, anyway?

[Desperately trying to change the subject, he does hazard to pull out his gun, leaning suspiciously around a corner to make sure the coast is clear.]

And that's bullshit about the place. Why the Hell are we here if we can't leave? What is this, the Hotel California?

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[]

This way. It's not far. []

As for this place, it does tend to be "bullshit", as you so crudely put it. Santana and I have been here for months already, and we still don't have a valid answer to that, aside from the possibility that this place really just enjoys torturing us every so often.

[]

It will be good to have someone like you here though. I haven't known you long of course, but seems like you're prepared for, well, almost anything.

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[~~Or if she's stoned off cupcakes~~ That's still more than YOU eat, KURT. You're the one who should leeeeave.]

It really does. Torture us, I mean. It's been kinda dull lately though, so I don't think you need the gun, but you do look hot with it, so.

Just try not to shoot things that don't need be to shot. [It would suck if he accidentally killed someone and got in trouble. How would seducing happen if he was locked up??]

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Months? I don't freaking have months.

[Dean sighs a little, his shoulders sagging. Just as things seemed to be looking up, he hears this. He recalls it from speaking with Santana earlier, but it's still disconcerting to hear. He raises an eyebrow at the girl, tucking his weapon away.]

...just let me know when we encounter something that needs to be killed, okay? [He growls a little roughly, feeling impatient and on-edge, interested in why they both seem to be flanking him right now. They'd better get to the kitchen soon.]

I ain't prepared for anything, but I can try to handle almost anything. Just practice. [Dean flashes a winning smile.] Can't have either of you getting hurt on my watch, can I?

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Of course not. []

I doubt anyone has months to spare. But if I've understood all the time/space issues correctly, time doesn't pass in our homes while we're here, so you won't actually miss anything.

But don't worry. We'll be the first to let you know if there's any trouble here. []

[]

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[Santana rolls her eyes at Kurt's smitten tone. She's tempted to tell him to just drop to his knees and get it over with.

But she's supposed to be somewhat ignoring him, so she doesn't. You're welcome, Kurt.]

Totally. We would never leave you in the dark. And see, this way you have all your months back. [That being the second time Dean sounded so cryptic, she's kinda wondering if he really is dying.

And with the kitchen in view, she's just going to walk a little faster so she's ahead of them (directly in front of Dean, of course, because she can't resist putting a little swish to her hips.]

Tada! Kitchen.

Edited Date: 2010-11-01 08:41 am (UTC)

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[This is good for him, but he won't admit it. Not out loud. Spending all this time hanging over the shoulders of high school students wouldn't normally be his cup of tea, but Kurt's really starting to remind him of Sammy (What with the similar way they seem to bitch about things), and Santana is-

...we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

But it's still good. Though the two of them are starting to really hedge in on his personal space.]

Time doesn't pass? We're stuck in a loop?

[Well, this shit sounds familiar. This has Trickster God written all over it, Queen Bitch his ass. No doubt the dick thought he could fuck around with Dean's head while they were asleep, or while Sammy was away, or something. The house with this many people doesn't quite seem his style, though; and Dean appreciated the god's style. Emitting a grumpy sort-of huff, he conceded that, at the very least, time wouldn't be stolen away from what little he had left. He doesn't even bother keeping the relief from his voice.]

...Thank God for that.

[Raising his eyebrows in speculative interest as Santana hurries to get ahead of them, Dean offers Kurt an amused, sidelong glance that says "I'm not the only guy she's done this too, am I?" before following after her. Dean chucks his duffel onto the nearest table with a loud thump, clapping his hands together and giving a genuinely happy, eager smile as he looks over the multiple cabinets.

He glances at them over one shoulder, winking.]

I need a cheeseburger and an apple pie, STAT. Love me some pie.

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Something like that. The seasons seem to be changing though, so I guess it does in a way...but everyone here claims that when we go home, no time will have gone by at all.

[]

Both of them at once? [] ...Err. I'm sure you'll find something. It works like the closets do, if you've tried those yet.

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[Santana's been staring-slash-smiling at Dean since she entered the kitchen, so she's also been ignoring what the two others have been saying. Until she realizes what Kurt just said.

What? Are you telling me you can ask for anything and this place will just give it you? Like, specific food things??

[SHE IS GLARING AT YOU SCARILY, KURT.]

No one told me this!

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[Dean rubs his hands together eagerly, casting an interested look around the kitchen and shrugging at Santana's obvious discontent.]

I dunno, sweetheart, but we might as well find out. Let's see what's behind Door Number One...

[Moving in to the first cabinet, he grips the handle tightly and wrenches it open to find - ]

Holy Jesus fuck.

[It's a bacon cheeseburger. And...a whole apple pie. And freaking vanilla ice cream. Dean groans like a man getting head and pulls both plates out, kicking the cabinet door shut behind him with a little snicker and setting his meal on the table. Pulling a chair up and turning it to face the table backwards, he straddles the thing and picks up the burger, admiring it for a moment.]

Oh, baby, I missed you.

[And he started to eat. And it was good.]

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[] I thought you would have known by now.

[]

How can you eat that grease-laden...thing? Ugh. It's a heart attack in a bun!

[]

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[Santana is just...so torn. The sounds Dean's making just makes her imagination run, but. The food. Ewww. As a result, it's possible she looks ridiculous.]

Okay, I can't watch anymore. [she walks past Kurt.] Just shut your eyes, Hummel. It's way hotter that way.

[But! Time to test for herself. She checks a cabinet annnnnd...practically squeals. You saw this coming, don't lie.]

Oh my god, Breadstix breadsticks!

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Yeah, right, like I've got to look out for cholesterol where I'm goin'.

[Snorting in disbelief - What is it with teens these days and starving themselves? - He finishes the burger in a few minutes flat; not exactly a record time for him, but he was pretty hungry nonetheless. And damn, that thing hit the spot. But what he'd really been looking forward to was this. This majestic, glorious, hot apple pie. Sucking his fingers clean with another groan of delight, the older man grapples in a drawer behind him for a fork and a knife, cutting himself a slice and setting it right on top of the ice cream. He admires his masterpiece for a second.]

Gotta enjoy life while you can, Kurt. [It's pretty sage advice, all things considered, coming from Dean. Without any ado, the hunter spears himself a bite of delectable apple goodness and tested the waters, rolling his eyes back into his head and sticking a finger in the melting ice cream, sucking on the tip.]

...and dude, seriously, this apple pie is orgasmic.

[One would be able to gather as much from the expression of sheer bliss on his face and the sounds coming out of his throat.]

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[]

I am enjoying it, thank you. [.] I'm just getting a head start on my peers, who aren't going to start caring about their health until they're in their forties, with unsightly beer bellies to show for all of the abuse they will inevitably put their bodies through in college...

[]

...Mm. It seems that way. []

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[By then Santana's taken a seat, too, if only to get a better view of Dean. She's...vaguely gnawing on a breadstick. She glances at Kurt, who's clearly also enjoying the show.]

Looks that way, yeah.

[Staaaare. And hey, she's not exactly bashful, so:]

So, Dean. Is this how you are in bed? Cause you kinda look like you wanna be fucking that pie. [And it's hot, RIGHT KURT?]

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[He's happily eating in his own little world, and actually chokes on a piece of apple at Santana's abrupt, prying question. Eyes widening, Dean smoothes a hand over his neck and swallows, gasping and staring at her.]

...damn. [He's hoarse now, and clears his throat with...slight nervousness?] Come on any stronger, sweetheart, and I'll hafta get a restraining order.

[Leaning back, he scrutinizes the both of them carefully. It doesn't take too long to compose himself, but...really. Teenagers these days. Dean couldn't remember being that vulgar - then again, he was being a pretty awful role model right now.]

And no, [With a chuckle, he twists the fork in his hands, making eye contact with the her.] This is not how I am in bed. First I would sweet-talk the pie into taking its clothes off; but then that's only with cherry pie.

[Oh, two can play at this game. Dean cranes back to the table again, sliding one finger through melted vanilla ice cream, sucking on it with apparent relish before pulling it out of his mouth with an obscene, audible POP.]

You'll have to excuse me, since the last time I had an apple pie this good I was about to be sacrificed to a pagan harvest god.

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[]

Well. Just imagine. Pie that glorious whenever you want, with no sweet-talking whatsoever.

[]

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