“You can’t stay a couple hours?” Bobby didn’t want to be alone, not like this.

Dean sighed, guilt eating at the edge of his conscious. “Alright, sure, a couple hours,” he conceded. “But then I seriously gotta hit the road.”

Bobby tried to make the best of the hours, not wanting the time to end but eventually dean wouldn’t be put off. He’d tried a couple times to tell him, to explain why he needed company, but how do you tell a hunter that your scared of the demon you become?

Dean plopped down on the chair across from Bobby, kicking his boots off. “Might as well get comfy, huh?” he offered a small smile, wondering if Bobby would bring up whatever was clearly on his mind. If not, Dean would have to pry, and he hated prying.

“You know I ain’t been straight with you about me being topside.” It wasn’t a question. “About how I got back and why things just seem off...” he took a drink of his scotch. “I-was brought back dean, it weren’t a deal, but I came back—wrong.”

Deans eyes narrowed, thinking of all the different things Bobby’s words could mean. His thoughts drifted to a handprint scar on his own arm. “Wrong how?” he said softly.

“Constance,” he picked up the cell phone. Bobby sometimes gave out his number when it was too tetchy for him. “Where should I meet ya?” It was an old hunter friend of Bobby’s and like most, they didn’t like talking cases over the hone.”

“There’s a bar - The Island, near our place. Cheesy name I know,” he chuckled quickly, “but they pour heavy and they’re dirt cheap. When can you be there?”

“Gimme an hour Luv, I gotta change can’t miss me I’m the only Liverpool bloke in the place,black pants, white shirt, tan coat.” He needed a whiskey, a fag, and a steak, preferably in that order. He got himself showered and changed before picking u his bag. “Toredzou” he muttered as he lifted it, making it light for him and immovable for others.

The enochian word not only made it light, it made it harder to see. So with his flask in his pocket, song with his lighter, and two or three spells at the ti of his tongue he went out to meet with the hunter.

He stepped into the bar, his bag stowed away, chaz waiting in the taxi. He walked to the bar and flirted with the barkeep, getting one of the three things he needed. He’d bum a fag later.

From a back corner table, Dean recognized the man almost the instant he entered the dimly lit bar. No one else in town matched this man’s description, except maybe Cas, Dean noted with a chuckle. Something told him the comparison stopped with their fashion choices. Dean took another sip of his old fashioned before raising a hand at the stranger, flagging him over to his table. 

He finished his drink and hurriedly got another before bringing it to the table. He did stop long enough to look the man over, check the room with a glance for infernals, and then walk over to the table. Constance, I didn’t catch your name.” He sat down with a huff of pain. “What does a golden boy need with a wanker like me?”

“Name’s Dean,” he said, taking a slow drink as he carefully appraised the man in front of him. “My, uh, usual team is spread a little thin currently, and I didn’t want to put anything else on their plates. Bobby said I could trust you,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. It was sort of a question, but not really. If Bobby said it, Dean was inclined to believe it. 

“Constance,” he picked up the cell phone. Bobby sometimes gave out his number when it was too tetchy for him. “Where should I meet ya?” It was an old hunter friend of Bobby’s and like most, they didn’t like talking cases over the hone.”

“There’s a bar - The Island, near our place. Cheesy name I know,” he chuckled quickly, “but they pour heavy and they’re dirt cheap. When can you be there?”

“Gimme an hour Luv, I gotta change can’t miss me I’m the only Liverpool bloke in the place,black pants, white shirt, tan coat.” He needed a whiskey, a fag, and a steak, preferably in that order. He got himself showered and changed before picking u his bag. “Toredzou” he muttered as he lifted it, making it light for him and immovable for others.

The enochian word not only made it light, it made it harder to see. So with his flask in his pocket, song with his lighter, and two or three spells at the ti of his tongue he went out to meet with the hunter.

He stepped into the bar, his bag stowed away, chaz waiting in the taxi. He walked to the bar and flirted with the barkeep, getting one of the three things he needed. He’d bum a fag later.

From a back corner table, Dean recognized the man almost the instant he entered the dimly lit bar. No one else in town matched this man’s description, except maybe Cas, Dean noted with a chuckle. Something told him the comparison stopped with their fashion choices. Dean took another sip of his old fashioned before raising a hand at the stranger, flagging him over to his table. 

“You can’t stay a couple hours?” Bobby didn’t want to be alone, not like this.

Dean sighed, guilt eating at the edge of his conscious. “Alright, sure, a couple hours,” he conceded. “But then I seriously gotta hit the road.”

Bobby tried to make the best of the hours, not wanting the time to end but eventually dean wouldn’t be put off. He’d tried a couple times to tell him, to explain why he needed company, but how do you tell a hunter that your scared of the demon you become?

Dean plopped down on the chair across from Bobby, kicking his boots off. “Might as well get comfy, huh?” he offered a small smile, wondering if Bobby would bring up whatever was clearly on his mind. If not, Dean would have to pry, and he hated prying.

“Constance,” he picked up the cell phone. Bobby sometimes gave out his number when it was too tetchy for him. “Where should I meet ya?” It was an old hunter friend of Bobby’s and like most, they didn’t like talking cases over the hone.”

“There’s a bar - The Island, near our place. Cheesy name I know,” he chuckled quickly, “but they pour heavy and they’re dirt cheap. When can you be there?”

“You can’t stay a couple hours?” Bobby didn’t want to be alone, not like this.

Dean sighed, guilt eating at the edge of his conscious. “Alright, sure, a couple hours,” he conceded. “But then I seriously gotta hit the road.”

Crowley lifted his eyebrows, pushing past Dean ever so slightly and reaching down and grabbed the item to show Dean. ‘’Come, now. We’re besties, Squirrel.’’ A dramatic pause added for good measure--- 

‘‘Now SPILL.”

Dean rolled his eyes and yanked the small box from Crowley’s hands. “Don’t open that!” 

He sighed, realizing that not telling Crowley might just be worse than telling him. Curiosity and the cat, and all.

“Ok, ok, fine. Sam found some lore, blah blah blah, and um, we think...we found Pandora’s Box.”

Platonic Requests for Affection

worried starters

“You haven’t slept for days, have you?” “Are you eating properly? You don’t look it.” “Why do you keep stumbling over your words? Just how tired are you?” “You need to think about yourself every once in a while.” “I know your work is important, but you’re going to end up in hospital if you go on like this!” “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” “You look so… empty. I’m worried for you, please talk to me.” “Are you alright in there? You’re so quiet.” “How did you get these bruises? Please don’t lie to me.” “There’s something bothering you that you’re not telling me and I can see it slowly destroying you. What happened?” “You’re sleep deprived and you haven’t been eating. Why do you think you’re feeling dizzy?” “I can give you some pills to help you sleep. They aren’t healthy, but this is even less healthy.” “If you didn’t just blink I would’ve sworn you were dead, that’s how sickly you’re looking. Go to bed, please!” “Have you drank all of these bottles in one weekend?!” “I know you don’t want this, but it’s for your own good. Sign the papers so they can pick you up tomorrow and you can get clean.” “What the hell are you doing?! Did you do that to yourself?!” “When was the last time you left the house? Or opened the curtains for that matter.” “Here, just keep breathing. It’ll be okay. Better out than in…” “This can’t go on like this! You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, you barely talk!” “I’m sorry. I went through your room and found this. Explain what the hell this is doing in your room!” “I thought you’d quit! How long have you been lying to me?” “I’m only trying to help and right now I think I have a much better idea of what you need than you do.” “Did you take anything? Why are you passing out? Hey! Stay with me!”

“It won’t happen again.”

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