† FIVE [voice]

[upstairsbrain]

"Porcupine, to a prince," huh? [ Good morning to you, too, Siren's Port. There's a definite smile in Sam's voice, though you can't hear him scrub a hand over his chin, as if he's seriously considering "Chafe-Away." ] Say what you want about this place, but... man. The ads are almost worth it.

[ Sort of sarcasm. He's in a good mood, today. ]

I'm not going to bring up the candy corn stuff. So, now that we're past all that, anyone want to... I dunno, take a walk around the city? I feel like getting out today.

Comments

action;

[upstairsbrain]

[ CHRIST ON A BIKE, DEAN, DID YOU REALLY

JUST

... NOPE.JPEG ]

Something like what I went through with Madison. [ The anger is tangible, released in every heavy breath, the slight baring of his teeth. ] Yeah, like he was there, like he knows what that was like. Look, maybe you believe him about that crap-- you would. But, I know better. It's been this way forever. Black and white, no grey area. That's just--

[ Fucking stupid. He doesn't say it, though, and instead turns on his heel, a hand over his mouth. ]

He's not protecting anything but his own stupid, die-hard stigmas. Old, pathetic generalizations that he can't let go of.

action;

[mulletrock]

[Dean bristles. Sam can't ever step back and look at both sides of something unless it's a mythos or something out of a book. He's hard headed, stuck to his own opinions. Just like Dad.

But Dean knows. He knows that John loves them. Because he remembers how consumed with guilt and worry he was when Sam left for Stanford and when they were going toe to toe with Meg.

He wasn't perfect. Far from it, but he'd die before he let either one of them suffer.]

Whatever, man.

[Dean's not going to argue. Not with either of them. It's not worth it. They'll never get it or listen to what he's trying to get across.]

I'll just stay out of it from here on out.

action;

[upstairsbrain]

Fine. [ He says it quickly, and too roughly for the brother he knows, deep down, he knows is only trying to help. Sam's bristled, too, half-pacing, hands squared on his hips. And then there's the knock, and he knows it's John. He just shoots Dean one last look, half angry, half... regretful, maybe? And then heads out, snapping the door shut behind him. ]