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whitereflectionFeeling kind of quiet today. :x Sorry for my antisocial hermit-ness.
Have been tagged for that 25-things meme by two people--I promise to do that tomorrow...or later in the week, at least. ^^;
Have managed to screw up baking break-apart cookies. Seriously.
:|
Day 17 11/17/10 12:54-1:47 (distracted repeatedly by mother and a cat)
Dean figured he shouldn't be surprised. This was the way it always went for him and Sam: fix one thing, only for something else to immediately leap up and punch them in the face or kick them in the balls.
Or, in this instance, get Sam's soul back (finally, finally), then, before Sam even got a chance to get all dewy-eyed, bam! Wings growing right out of his back--one white and feathery, one black and leathery.
Motherfucking wings. And freaking cliché ones at that.
Dean sighed deeply, rubbing a tired hand over his face. Still cradled against his chest, Sam huffed a half-hysterical, half-resigned laugh against Dean's neck.
"They are...very symbolic," said Castiel from behind them.
Sam's laughter was definitely full-out hysterical now. "Not a good time to start singing 'Always look on the bright side of life', Cas," Dean grumbled.
"I wasn't--" The angel cut himself off at the expression on Dean's face. "Right," he said after a pause, "I'll get the whiskey."
"That's more like it."
Attempting a wobbly thumbs up in Castiel's general direction, Sam mumbled, "Son of a bitch?" against Dean's shirt, and Dean gave a chuckle despite himself.
"Yeah, Sammy," he said wryly. "Exactly what I was thinking."
(204)
***
Of course today would be the day where Dad would call (see point one). And man, can he chatter.
Have been tagged for that 25-things meme by two people--I promise to do that tomorrow...or later in the week, at least. ^^;
Have managed to screw up baking break-apart cookies. Seriously.
:|
Day 17 11/17/10 12:54-1:47 (distracted repeatedly by mother and a cat)
Dean figured he shouldn't be surprised. This was the way it always went for him and Sam: fix one thing, only for something else to immediately leap up and punch them in the face or kick them in the balls.
Or, in this instance, get Sam's soul back (finally, finally), then, before Sam even got a chance to get all dewy-eyed, bam! Wings growing right out of his back--one white and feathery, one black and leathery.
Motherfucking wings. And freaking cliché ones at that.
Dean sighed deeply, rubbing a tired hand over his face. Still cradled against his chest, Sam huffed a half-hysterical, half-resigned laugh against Dean's neck.
"They are...very symbolic," said Castiel from behind them.
Sam's laughter was definitely full-out hysterical now. "Not a good time to start singing 'Always look on the bright side of life', Cas," Dean grumbled.
"I wasn't--" The angel cut himself off at the expression on Dean's face. "Right," he said after a pause, "I'll get the whiskey."
"That's more like it."
Attempting a wobbly thumbs up in Castiel's general direction, Sam mumbled, "Son of a bitch?" against Dean's shirt, and Dean gave a chuckle despite himself.
"Yeah, Sammy," he said wryly. "Exactly what I was thinking."
(204)
***
Of course today would be the day where Dad would call (see point one). And man, can he chatter.
