[ Watching Sam work through something allows enough of a reprieve from the emotions trying to claw their way back up his throat, and he breaks his line of sight by looking back down at his bowl of stew. Being able to cook like this in a nice kitchen? It's brought him more joy than he can really - or wants to - explain to anybody. ]
Cas - other Cas - has run outta juice.
[ That he discovered back when he'd asked for something from the angel for the first time here, and it had turned out to be a weird conversation. What's new, honestly? ]
... Is knowing the other Cas is out of juice supposed to make me feel better?
[He rubs a hand over his face, and sighs. But.]
Alright. It's not like I can keep you guys from getting into trouble around here, I know.
[He pats his hand on the counter top mindlessly, working his aching lip between his teeth; became a bit of a painful habit of his. He's still trying to decide if eating food'll be worth it, or if his confused body'll try to chuck it back up. Especially after this talk of flesh caves.
[ It's a fair point. One that Dean frowns at lightly and then raises his eyebrows in reluctant agreement. ]
We're not lookin' for trouble. But if what we think is down there is down there, it's gonna help all of us.
[ It's the whole point of this probably ill-fated expedition. Get the umbilical cord and test out if it actually does heal injuries. Hell, between the three of them they could do with a whole pile of them.
He watches on concerned as Sam takes a bite - it's pathetic, but at this point it's the first goddamn thing Dean has seen him eat - and nods slowly. ]
[ Sam's right and they both know it. So the corner of Dean's mouth lifts up into a strangely soft and lopsided smile. Whatever. He can stop bringing gross topics to the kitchen table. ]
Official house rule it is. No talking about gross things at the dinner table.
[ Because they have one of those now and the novelty still hasn't set in. ]
Not like either of us got good practice at those but... we have one now, Sam. An actual honest to god dinner table.
[Sam's had one before — one he picked out himself, back in Stanford days. Back when he had a pretty lousy apartment, up until Jess was open to moving in together in a better place. They bought the cheapest table money could afford at Walmart. Ha.
It was a great table, always covered in plants, keys, and mail. He's not sure they ever actually ate at it.]
A lot better than a half-table in some seedy motel, huh?
Not a cigarette butt or questionable stain to be seen.
[The self-doubt is so heavy, in the back of his mind.
(Why would they let him sit at this table? Why are they being nice to him, after everything? Why is Dean acting like this can be normal? Aren't they worried he's going to lose it? Aren't they distrusting? Shouldn't he just go back to the basement, instead of letting Dean's words motivate him to stay?)
But it's an honest to god dinner table, and Dean's smiling a little bit, and he couldn't bring himself to retrace his steps back into the dark even if he tried.]
[ Knocking on that kitchen island they're sitting at, he finally gets up and claps Sam on the back. It's hard to really let this all sink in, and he's just as wary as Sam is that it's not going to last. But for right now? He just wants to appreciate what they have. ]
Better than what we had in camp too.
[ Dinner time at camp had been a little less formal. There was some community spirit, but the longer he was there the more Dean started to pull himself away from it. Sequestered himself into his own darkness, alone with everything he knew he had to do.
He forces a brighter smile and rounds that island to pull the stew pot away from the stove. There's enough left for Cas whenever he wants it. Enough to transfer over into tupperware and that's almost as weird as the whole dinner table thing. He's a tupperware guy now? ]
Movin' up in the world.
[ There's a moment where he's hoping that kind of comment will just get left alone for what it is. This isn't their world and there's so much they're up against. But just for this moment in time? Dean's going to enjoy it. ]
I was thinkin' about firing up the grill tomorrow for burgers. You in?
I can stomach it. When have you ever known me not to be game for a burger?
[ Somebody's playing a dangerous game because his future holds nothing but grossness and the inability to eat meat for a couple days after the sinkhole adventure. But of course he's leading with some meat-eating macho bullshit.
And a small smile.
Yeah, Dean knows which way he's hoping it'll go. Hanging with Sam sounds like a good way to end the day. And he doesn't even care if he's leaning into territory that makes him sound like a 50s housewife, he just wants to feed the guy up. Put some meat back on those bones. ]
I'm gonna go work on Baby. She's still not fixed up and I want her back on the road. I hate walking. It's so pedestrian.
[ It's not uncommon for the sounds of banging, welding and cursing to be floating out of the garage. Now that he feels like he needs to do something with his hands, getting that car back on the road feels important for more than just driving purposes. He probably doesn't have to say that though. ]
[The corner of Sam's lips quirks into an uneven smile.]
You know, walking is a good way to clear your mind. Get some exercise.
... Especially since the town's not even that big.
[Is he teasing? He's teasing. Just a bit. And he also takes another bite of his food, apparently warmed up to the idea of eating most of it. When it's your brother making it and not sad convenience store food you'd bought between motels while you're running from your problems, it turns out you don't mind eating as much.]
[ Truth is he went a long ass time without a burger in sight. Apocalypses are bad for diners, and convenience in general. Not that he's planning on dredging that up. The first burger he had here was like porn for his mouth. It was a real special moment, dream or not.
He rolls his eyes all the same, shakes his head 'hell no', and claps Sam on the back on the way past. The mere view of Sam digging into that stew makes him feel like he's done something right. ]
I have no idea what you're talkin' about. I'm in the best shape of my life.
[ Something which he's slowly chipping away at with the addition of burgers back into his diet. Beats canned food but probably not freshly hunted game. ]
[ Stopping in the doorway, he glances back at Sam, eyebrows raised in anticipation. But he stays quiet, patiently waits for whatever it is that his brother's got to say to him.
The thank you is hard to hear, but only because it's hard to see Sam like this, believing he's so undeserving. He nods tightly, and then smiles. ]
This is your house too, Sam. And even when I'm first-thing-in-the-morning grumpy, I want you up here. And I want you to remember that anything you need - anything at all - just gotta ask.
[He's not sure what he did to deserve this, but he'll do whatever Dean asks of him. If that means living here in the moment? Being an attempt at normal in the house? He'll try.
... He'll fistfight a lot of his own ugly thoughts and come out bruised, but he'll try.]
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Cas - other Cas - has run outta juice.
[ That he discovered back when he'd asked for something from the angel for the first time here, and it had turned out to be a weird conversation. What's new, honestly? ]
But no. We're not gonna go unprepared.
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[He rubs a hand over his face, and sighs. But.]
Alright. It's not like I can keep you guys from getting into trouble around here, I know.
[He pats his hand on the counter top mindlessly, working his aching lip between his teeth; became a bit of a painful habit of his. He's still trying to decide if eating food'll be worth it, or if his confused body'll try to chuck it back up. Especially after this talk of flesh caves.
He does eventually take one small, pathetic bite.
Progress?]
Watch each other's backs. Call if you can.
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We're not lookin' for trouble. But if what we think is down there is down there, it's gonna help all of us.
[ It's the whole point of this probably ill-fated expedition. Get the umbilical cord and test out if it actually does heal injuries. Hell, between the three of them they could do with a whole pile of them.
He watches on concerned as Sam takes a bite - it's pathetic, but at this point it's the first goddamn thing Dean has seen him eat - and nods slowly. ]
You know we will.
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... It's pretty good, honestly.
......
So with that in mind, he says with some finality:]
Talk about flesh-themed sinkholes and umbilical cords should probably be off-limits at the kitchen table, for the record.
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[ Sam's right and they both know it. So the corner of Dean's mouth lifts up into a strangely soft and lopsided smile. Whatever. He can stop bringing gross topics to the kitchen table. ]
Official house rule it is. No talking about gross things at the dinner table.
[ Because they have one of those now and the novelty still hasn't set in. ]
Not like either of us got good practice at those but... we have one now, Sam. An actual honest to god dinner table.
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... Yeah.
[Sam's had one before — one he picked out himself, back in Stanford days. Back when he had a pretty lousy apartment, up until Jess was open to moving in together in a better place. They bought the cheapest table money could afford at Walmart. Ha.
It was a great table, always covered in plants, keys, and mail. He's not sure they ever actually ate at it.]
A lot better than a half-table in some seedy motel, huh?
Not a cigarette butt or questionable stain to be seen.
[The self-doubt is so heavy, in the back of his mind.
(Why would they let him sit at this table? Why are they being nice to him, after everything? Why is Dean acting like this can be normal? Aren't they worried he's going to lose it? Aren't they distrusting? Shouldn't he just go back to the basement, instead of letting Dean's words motivate him to stay?)
But it's an honest to god dinner table, and Dean's smiling a little bit, and he couldn't bring himself to retrace his steps back into the dark even if he tried.]
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Better than what we had in camp too.
[ Dinner time at camp had been a little less formal. There was some community spirit, but the longer he was there the more Dean started to pull himself away from it. Sequestered himself into his own darkness, alone with everything he knew he had to do.
He forces a brighter smile and rounds that island to pull the stew pot away from the stove. There's enough left for Cas whenever he wants it. Enough to transfer over into tupperware and that's almost as weird as the whole dinner table thing. He's a tupperware guy now? ]
Movin' up in the world.
[ There's a moment where he's hoping that kind of comment will just get left alone for what it is. This isn't their world and there's so much they're up against. But just for this moment in time? Dean's going to enjoy it. ]
I was thinkin' about firing up the grill tomorrow for burgers. You in?
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If you can stomach it by tomorrow.
[He absolutely expects Dean to come back traumatized by weird bloated corpse walls.
Burgers? Good fucking luck.
But the question Dean posed to him, short and sweet, needs to be answered. After a moment, he obliges.]
... We'll just have to see.
[Not a yes, but not a no.
That's not too shabby, Dean.]
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[ Somebody's playing a dangerous game because his future holds nothing but grossness and the inability to eat meat for a couple days after the sinkhole adventure. But of course he's leading with some meat-eating macho bullshit.
And a small smile.
Yeah, Dean knows which way he's hoping it'll go. Hanging with Sam sounds like a good way to end the day. And he doesn't even care if he's leaning into territory that makes him sound like a 50s housewife, he just wants to feed the guy up. Put some meat back on those bones. ]
I'm gonna go work on Baby. She's still not fixed up and I want her back on the road. I hate walking. It's so pedestrian.
[ It's not uncommon for the sounds of banging, welding and cursing to be floating out of the garage. Now that he feels like he needs to do something with his hands, getting that car back on the road feels important for more than just driving purposes. He probably doesn't have to say that though. ]
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You know, walking is a good way to clear your mind. Get some exercise.
... Especially since the town's not even that big.
[Is he teasing? He's teasing. Just a bit. And he also takes another bite of his food, apparently warmed up to the idea of eating most of it. When it's your brother making it and not sad convenience store food you'd bought between motels while you're running from your problems, it turns out you don't mind eating as much.]
cw: animal hunting
He rolls his eyes all the same, shakes his head 'hell no', and claps Sam on the back on the way past. The mere view of Sam digging into that stew makes him feel like he's done something right. ]
I have no idea what you're talkin' about. I'm in the best shape of my life.
[ Something which he's slowly chipping away at with the addition of burgers back into his diet. Beats canned food but probably not freshly hunted game. ]
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[He hesitates, though, feeling a little nervous to be on his own in a house that he feels he really didn't earn. Before Dean leaves, he speaks up:]
Hey — Dean.
[A pause. A fidgeting of shaky hands, as he rubs the palm against the knee of his jeans.]
Thank you. For letting me... be here. I mean.
... Up here. In the house. I'll make it up to you guys.
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The thank you is hard to hear, but only because it's hard to see Sam like this, believing he's so undeserving. He nods tightly, and then smiles. ]
This is your house too, Sam. And even when I'm first-thing-in-the-morning grumpy, I want you up here. And I want you to remember that anything you need - anything at all - just gotta ask.
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... You got it.
[He's not sure what he did to deserve this, but he'll do whatever Dean asks of him. If that means living here in the moment? Being an attempt at normal in the house? He'll try.
... He'll fistfight a lot of his own ugly thoughts and come out bruised, but he'll try.]