Deerington Inbox.

[endoftheverse]

 

[A general automated voicemail plays.]
 

Comments

[venatoris]

Damn. A miracle is what I could use. The state of this place is worse than the hotels we used to crash in.

[endoftheverse]

Does your place also share the amount of rats we used to deal with growing up, too?

OMW, so don't go getting the bubonic plague if there are any of those skittering around.




I guess you could use the company there, though.

[venatoris]

No rats, thank God.

You're funny, you know that? Absolutely friggin' hilarious.

[endoftheverse]

I know I am.

[No he doesn't. But if Dean says so, even sarcastically, he'll take it.]

I'll see you soon.
Try not to fall through the floorboards.

[You'll likely see (1) oversized fellow making his way down the trail. He's got a toolbox, which he really hopes will be enough to, uh... help with whatever shitshow he's about to walk in on.]

[venatoris]

[ Hilarious. You are just HILARIOUS, dickhead.

But, you know, he's there, on a ladder, hammering away at the siding of his house, because he's discovered a frickin hole where he's pretty sure critters are actually sneaking in. Not rats, not yet, but he's a little worried there's a raccoon that's trying to make a nest and he'd like to nip that in the bud, as quickly as possible.

Dean's house is kind of a wreck ngl, but it's his, apparently, and...well. When's the last time he had a true home? ]

[endoftheverse]

[Sam of course stops under the shade of Dean's busy work, looking up (for once in his life) and observing for a critical moment; apparently, it will just become Sam's fate to wander up to Dean while he's on a ladder and nudge it with a foot.]

Let me guess — you're scared there's a serial killer raccoon sneaking in your place, now.

[venatoris]

Oh, you're funny.

[ You like making him jump, don't you - little brother, gonna be the cause of the elder's heart attack. He can already tell. ]

But it's a hefty probability. You see this dump? Talk about radioactive.

[endoftheverse]

[Snort.]

We've stayed in worse.

What's the next problem you need to fix up?

[Sam's ready to sink his teeth into some work, here.

Of course, it's more than just a good distraction. It's doing something good for Dean.]

[venatoris]

[ That's...okay that's true. They've squatted in some seriously questionable locations. It's a miracle they never ended up with friggin' tetanus. He glances down at Sam, arm resting on the top of the ladder. ]

The staircase is the biggest problem. Every time I go up to bed I'm afraid I'm gonna break my neck.

[ He's started just...sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace. Yeah, a mattress is nice, but he's slept on the floor so many damn times that it just doesn't bother him.

But it would be nice. ]

Most of the steps seem fine, just loose, but there's a few boards that need replacing. There's a pile of lumbar out back, I guess Sodder decided to throw me one single bone.

[ They're out back alright, right next to Baby's rusted frame. ]

[endoftheverse]

[Sam is practically wincing at the thought of those stairs, because they must be pretty bad if Dean isn't willing to play Tarzan across them. Adjusting his grip on his toolbox, he itches a brow that raises high.]

Well, I guess I might as well, uh... fit the lumberjack look properly.

I'll go start chopping wood, and you keep the forest animals from getting into your walls, huh?

[venatoris]

[ They're...not safe. It's like a pole vault to get up the stairs and it's just so much easier to sleep on the floor. ]

Yeah, okay Paul Bunyon. You go do that. Axe is by the woodpile, holler if you cut your hand off.

[endoftheverse]

Right. I can't wait to get a pirate hook for a hand.

[He starts toward the back of the place, and if Dean looks, he'll see the flash of a fond smile before Sam's gone. It doesn't take him long to get right to work; he's a pretty good worker, probably because he can do it without eating or resting for a long time compared to usual. You can thank being possessed by an archangel for that. Wouldn't want his vessel to collapse and die, you know.

He gets so lost in the work that he spaces out, and soon enough he's got enough wood stacked up to build a very fancy doghouse; it's hard not to lose himself in time, most days; it's this whole... being in charge of yourself thing. Fighting to stay in charge. Whatever.

He snaps out of it long enough to start the tedious task of sawing down wood into cleaner, thinner strips while the sun begins to set in the distance. It's kinda beautiful. Makes you forget Deerington's a nightmare more than a dream, most days.]

[venatoris]

[ Quite a chunk of time goes by before Dean heads out to check on him. The wall he'd been working on now properly fixed, he hops down from the ladder and heads out back, squinting in the setting sun. ]

Sammy? How's it hanging? You good? Still got all your limbs?

[endoftheverse]

[Sam doesn't seem to hear him... Lost in his own little world, it seems. His shoulders are relaxed, and he just — looks off into the distance, gaze pinned to the sky beyond. For a concerning moment, it almost seems like he's slipped into one of his strange disassociation moments that he juggles at least a few times a day-

But then he says, in that stupidly soft way Sam Winchester sometimes speaks:]

... It's been months since I woke up here, but it still doesn't even feel real.

Being able to see the sky like this again.

It's pretty amazing.

[Beautiful, honestly. He can get so lost in it all. The painted reds or star-punched blues... Makes you forget the deep, unyielding dark you get left in, sometimes.]

[venatoris]

[ It's a little alarming, at first, when Sam doesn't reply. Dean is still finding his footing again around his version of Sam, walking on eggshells, tentative but hopeful - and silence, coming from Sammy, can be deafening.

He comes up next to Sam, arms folding over his chest as he peers up, taking a moment to savor this little slice of peace. ]

It's sure something else.

[ Dean honestly cant remember the last time he just stopped and looked up, appreciated the beauty of a color splashed sky. ]

[endoftheverse]

[Sam hums in response.]

Mmm. Yeah.

Even in some kind of nightmare world, where the sky's glitching every other week.

[In fact, some of that weird glitching just adds to it. Those odd patches in the sky where there's no color, it makes it kind of look like a painting. Like the nighttime is punching through the sunset.]

Well. [He holds up one of the planks of wood, turning it left and right to demonstrate.] What do you think? Thick enough to hold your weight?

[venatoris]

You calling me fat?

[ He smirks, reaching to take the plank from his jackass of a brother, inspecting his work. ]

Looks good. Should be able to get them fixed up with all this.

[endoftheverse]

I’m not calling you skinny.

[He probably should be, actually. Between Dean living on very little back in a Croat-infested world and Sam half-starving himself from guilt and literally forgetting to eat as a human fucking being, they’re certainly not gorged on calories these days.

But he’ll still insult his brother anyway. Might as well keep the status quo, even when they’ve long since fucked that up.]

How much am I getting paid for all this construction work again?

[:)]

[venatoris]

Cute, real cute.

[ Yeeeah, the only thing possibly keeping any weight on Dean is the alcohol he drinks. Beyond that, he's probably more fit now than he's been in a long ass time. ]

You're getting paid in gratitude. Now come inside and have a beer.

[endoftheverse]

[Trauma really keeps 'em in shape, huh?

Well, okay, Sam's not exactly what people'd call fit these days. His elbows could probably be used as knives, and his appetite is apparently adamant about gaunt cheekbones. He could use the pounds. So fine, alright. Beer it is.]

... You know, the first time I got a part-time job that actually paid me during college, it felt like walking into an alien world. Who knew you could be paid for something and be a Winchester?

[venatoris]

We got paid, [ he says, leading him in and opening the fridge to hand him a beer. ]

Not sayin' it was honest, but...we got paid. [ pool hustling and poker is totally legit, right? ]

[endoftheverse]

[Sam takes the beer, though he looks a little leery of the bottle. He... kinda was rock bottom alcoholic for a bit, near the end there. But then again, he was rock-bottom alcoholic for a hot minute when Dean was fucking dead and rotting in the ground and he wanted nothing more than to burn in hell instead of him, so — why is he even going to worry about it?

He pops it open and sips.]

You know, I had some jobs after we split. Made life easier to just be paid in cash, so I was a bartender for a little bit.

... Really stupid idea in hindsight, but. Kind of nice while it lasted.

[venatoris]

[ Do you reeeeeally want to talk about rock bottom alcoholic? ]

You? [ He chuckles, moving to sit on his rickety little kitchen chairs, kicking his feet up to rest on the table. ] A bartender? Tell me more, Sammy.

[endoftheverse]

[Well, Dean, that's just a given. Is now a bad time to say you should stop drinking so much?

Sam doesn't even think, when he reaches over and slaps one of Dean's feet off the table. It's just habit, regardless of the time between them; somebody's got to give Dean shit in his own cabin.]

Nothing that exciting to it. Chopped lemons, served beers. Got hit on a lot. [By gals and guys alike. 6'4" handsome guy serving booze to tipsy guests? Yeah, we all know where that heads.] It was a little weird, being on the inside looking out. Usually it's me sitting on the rickety barstools ordering something.

... I mean, 80% of me sitting at a bar in my life was bitterly. But.

[Pretty good job, Dean. He doesn't really talk this much about just about anything these days, not outside of the bare essentials and feeding Lucifer news to you and Cas and the people from home.]

[venatoris]

[ Yeah, can they just...not do that. It's just a given with Dean, okay. ]

Sounds like a good job to me; lemons and chicks. [ chicks because wheeeeeee SOMEONE'S IN DENIIIALLLL ]

Punny, Sam. [ Bitterly sitting on a bar, lemons...ha. Hahaha. It makes Dean chuckle a little. ] Do the rickety chairs we're sitting on count? Or is there a quota that needs to be met?