voice - un: nightmoves

[ruinously]

[ sorry, everyone - Dean is...very drunk. Very, very drunk. There's a lot of reasons for this, but most notably, it's a Monday and that's what matters, right? It's not like it's his birthday and no one gives a shit again, for the thirtieth? thirty-first? time...

does he even age, here? Is it even really January? Cause it was May for him when he got here, and then suddenly they've skipped months and it was Christmas and now it's January or some shit, he doesn't know. ]

Guys, is it just me or does anyone else just like...not give a shit anymore? Like this is crazy, right? Weeks and weeks of bullshit, mission after mission, same story different folks, more investigating these damn people who just parrot the same friggin' story over and over, like we're eating snakes, man, that's just--

[ a breath, steadying; ]

That's just not right. And all for what? Cause we might get to undo a regret? Cause we fucked up so monumentally in our own worlds that we gotta sign some weird sleep paralysis contract that's probably gonna backfire in our faces - cause lemme tell you from firsthand experience, deals always have a price - and feed friggin' alien orbs our goddamn souls? Or whatever the hell it is you magic people have I dunno, I'm useless there.

Man, fuck this. I'm out. I don't care anymore.

Comments

damn my inability to toggle accounts

[ruinously]

I think other people might think it's weird, but I don't.

[ He peers down at her, a brow lifted, smile pulling at his lips. The world is still fuzzy from booze, harsh lines blurred into something softer, a little more rosey.

Like his cheeks, because that's where half the alcohol has gone, right to his face to flush and bring out all his freckles. ]

I'm fifty fifty on it, I think. One one hand it's like hell yeah, be your authentic self, screw everyone else.

But then it's kinda like well...why bother? Y'know?

[bossily]

[That smile on his lips and the way he's looking down at her puts a smile on her face in return. The flush on his cheeks is precious, enough so that she's lifting an arm up so she can press her palm against his warm skin. Her fingers splay against his cheek, thumb running along his lips.]

The day you stop being yourself is the day it's not worth being here any longer. Don't lose sight of yourself, Dean. You're too good of a man, and I won't stand by and watch you waste away to nothing.

[ruinously]

[ Were it anyone else, he'd probably hit on her, or take the flirt for something more than it is.

Like, he wouldn't say no to a fun romp, but. He'll let her make that call. ]

Well, when someone like you thinks so highly of someone like me, it gives a guy some confidence.

[bossily]

[Now that makes her take pause and she finds herself looking up at him with a quiet thoughtfulness. She remembers what it was like when she first came back to the station, knowing her fate. Dean knows he's going to hell, and there isn't likely to be any escape. He doesn't see the point in forming connections, and yet here he is, still desperate to have one anyway.]

I can't be the person you want me to be.

[She tells him in a whisper, her hand dropping away.]

But I'll be who you need right now. A friend that's going to stay the night.

[There's a pause, and she quickly adds on -]

Fully clothed, I might add. So keep that confidence in check, would you?

[ruinously]

I don't expect you to be anyone other than who you are.

[ Whatever that means to her, whoever she may be under the flirty veneer, whatever pieces of herself she may be hiding. He's certainly bared himself, reopened old wounds, but there's always secrets, always something held back. ]

Ah, and I was so close to feeling like a smug asshole.