demonicbeauty | Deer Country Inbox

[ He stiffens for a moment, because he's so rarely touched or hugged ( or was that other him who didn't like it, who didn't like being surprised with affection - or, more accurately, didn't know what to do with it after not having it for five years? ) -- but he immediately sinks into it, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck.

Fuck, he didn't realize how upset he really was. Not being able to talk to Sam, not really having anyone else...

It hurts. His heart hurts, and he's tired and maybe Cas is right - maybe they should just go home. ]

[She feels the way his attitude changes, his body stiff, then gentle. There's something going through his head right now.

Maybe something he needs to talk about. But she's not going to push it. Dean is still a snarly male, whether he lets her hug him or not.

Still, she lingers as long as she dares, before pulling back to arm's length, keeping her palms on his shoulders.]

Do you want to come inside? Sit down?

[Talk about it?]

[ She isn't wrong, there's a lot going on. He's...yeah. He's hurting. ]

Yeah, I think that would be nice. If you don't mind.

[Ariadne loops her arm through his elbow, gently leading the way into her little shop.

Past the herbs and the high windows from Deerington.

Up the spiral staircase.

And into her little nest above, a small room filled with pillows of every conceivable color, mobiles of colored glass drifting lazily in the breeze coming through one of the windows.]

Would you like some tea?

[ He lets himself be led, too mentally worn out to argue or do anything except go along with her.

And really - what he really wants is to drink himself into fuckiong oblivion so he doesn't have to think, but instead he finds himself nodding, taking in the area around him. It's pretty. Very her. ]

Yeah. Sure, thanks.

[She immediately goes to her little kitchenette. Dusty and unused though it is, she knows how to boil water for tea. She even owns a tea kettle, which is nothing short of miraculous.

She puts the kettle on, before turning to look at him again.

There really is something different about him. His face seems...almost like a smooth mask of his own face. Like a stone that a river's run over.]

I would offer you something to eat, but I don't have much besides bread and chocolate.

[ He feels like a zombie, a facsimile of who he was before. He feels strange in his own skin, and isn't sure how to process it. ]

...That's all you have for food? You should've told me, I'd have brought you something.

Well, it's not all...

[She gives him a timid, little shrug.]

I have plenty of fruit. But I don't think that's your favorite. Or has that changed?

No, it hasn't. Is this all you're eating? Bread, chocolate and fruit? That's it?

[ The focus is shifting straight to her as his concern rises. What the hell, Airy. ]

Somehow, I don't think you came here to talk about my diet.

[And while she's perfectly happy to let Dean steer the conversation, the last thing she wants is for it to become about her.

It's not about her.]

No, but now I'm worried about you. Are you getting enough? You know Sammy and I keep a full pantry.

[ Dean - endverse, anyway and now he supposes he, too - was a hoarder by necessity. An apocalyptic world rife with a raging virus and dwindling supplies? Yeah. Their basement looks like the canned section of a grocery store. ]

[She walks over to him, kneeling down on one of the pillows on the floor.]

Dean, I grew up in a rain forest. Right now, I have more food than I imagined existed, when I was a little girl.

And yes, I've seen your pantry.

Okay, but this doesn't seem like a balanced diet--

[ This, coming from mister cheeseburgers and pizza and apple pie. ]

So you know if you need anything, we got you.

[She smiles, tilting her head to one side.]

Of course I know that.

Why would I ever doubt you?

[ He flashes a smile, slightly tentative, lifting a shoulder in a tired shrug. ]

Just making sure. You worry me sometimes.

You're worrying me right now.

[What is going on in that head of his?

The tea kettle whistles on the stove, so Ariadne gets up to take care of it. She has a couple of mismatched mugs handy, quickly pouring two cups and adding the leaves to steep.]

What's troubling you, Dean?

I think, uh.

[ He rubs the back of his head, collapsing a little onto a pillow without grace. ]

I think Cas and I are done. Or--if we ever...were. I don't know what counts anymore.

[She nearly drops one of the mugs, gasping softly.]

No...

[And if she looks horrified, well. A part of it might be because she blames herself.

That stupid conversation. Why did she have to bring it up?]

[ He can immediately sense where her head goes, and he shakes his head. ]

No, it isn't your fault. It's ours. Mine. I wanted to...really see if Sam's soul was gone, and we screwed up the spellwork.

[ His face screws up, looking tired and drawn. ]

Remember the other Dean, the one who was here? The younger one, more of an idiot, kinda rude?

[Sam's soul? Well, that sends a chill down her spine.

She picks up the mugs and carries them over to Dean, setting them down on the floor.]

Yes, of course.

[ He stares down at the mug but doesn't pick it up. ]

I-- we both...shifted back into the original timeline. I'm...him, in a way. The other Dean. And Cas is...

Not a junkie anymore, let's put it that way.

[Wait. What?

Ariadne looks at him, a little line of confusion forming between her eyes.

Until something suddenly sparks with her.]

You...I thought that you looked...different.

Yeah, I'm about five years younger. Give or take a few months, I guess.

[ And he looks massively unhappy about it. ]

There aren't as many lines on your face.

[No offense.

She sits down next to him, gently taking his chin in her hand, turning his face toward the light so she can look him over.

Yes, fewer worries. Even if he seems incredibly worried right now.]

But you still remember everything? The life you had for those five years?

[ He lets her, expression tired, eyes red rimmed, like he's done his share of tear shedding before coming over here. ]

Yeah. I remember it all. It's...hard to pick apart what's real and what was...him.

[ Or if it was all real. He doesn't know. ]

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