[ Where's the pomp and circumstance? Where's the confetti and the ribbons here? Dean Winchester wakes up brainless and half-dead, walks "home" in a town he doesn't remember to a house he doesn't recognize, he deserves like a medal or a stripper or some kind of bacon platter where the bacon's arranged into a smiley face and the eyeballs are made of eggs, and what he gets instead is nagging.
Well, how-de-freakin-do to you too, stranger. He pulls a disgruntled face, he can't help it, taken aback and affronted by Mr. Who-in-the-Hell and his audacity to preemptively know Dean's inclination toward walking home and then give him shit about it. Take a walk yourself, pal. It's only because there's some clear underlying concern and care layered in there that he doesn't take up an immediate defensive, in fact somehow it makes him more inclined to tolerate the berating.
He's not quite down with that hand on his shoulder just yet, and rather than move into some kind of mutual embrace like this guy might be expecting, he just gives it a sort of wary, perturbed glance. Stiff, not withdrawing but definitely not engaging. ]
I'll be sure to line-item that on the apology letter.
[ He rasps out frankly, finally, because how do you start a conversation about not knowing the name of someone giving you down the road over your life-choices? ]
They definitely missed the memo, nobody could even tell me what the hell happened, alright, so cut me some slack.
[ Like, a lot of slack. So much slack, because if this guy knows Dean at all he's going to have alarm bells going off pretty quick that something's off from whatever rapport they might normally carry. ]
screeching noises
Well, how-de-freakin-do to you too, stranger. He pulls a disgruntled face, he can't help it, taken aback and affronted by Mr. Who-in-the-Hell and his audacity to preemptively know Dean's inclination toward walking home and then give him shit about it. Take a walk yourself, pal. It's only because there's some clear underlying concern and care layered in there that he doesn't take up an immediate defensive, in fact somehow it makes him more inclined to tolerate the berating.
He's not quite down with that hand on his shoulder just yet, and rather than move into some kind of mutual embrace like this guy might be expecting, he just gives it a sort of wary, perturbed glance. Stiff, not withdrawing but definitely not engaging. ]
I'll be sure to line-item that on the apology letter.
[ He rasps out frankly, finally, because how do you start a conversation about not knowing the name of someone giving you down the road over your life-choices? ]
They definitely missed the memo, nobody could even tell me what the hell happened, alright, so cut me some slack.
[ Like, a lot of slack. So much slack, because if this guy knows Dean at all he's going to have alarm bells going off pretty quick that something's off from whatever rapport they might normally carry. ]