sadfreezingbrit_archive | one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]

[ It's been almost a week since ex-mafia!Philip had a very unfortunate event run-in with still-mafia!Dean. The result? His previous Wonderland lives are still intact, but he's down one eye and his arm isn't doing so well either. And that's the understatement of the day.

So. It's been almost a week. Hardly enough time to heal all wounds (or any of them for that matter), but time enough for Philip to get over the worst and out of his room. Or try to, in any case.

Right now (now being 11 in the morning) he's standing in the kitchen, arduously slaving over his attempt at late breakfast. The injury to his right shoulder is difficult to hide, what with his arm in a sling. But at least his left eye (or lack thereof) is cleverly concealed behind a pair of sunglasses.

To reiterate: Kitchen. Breakfast. 11 o'clock. Right arm in sling. ~~Ridiculous~~ Fashionable sunglasses. Shattered glass.

...Shattered glass? ]

Jesus, not again.

[ Stepping aside Philip looks at the mess. After six days improvements are coming along at last, but missteps (or misgrabs, as it were) still happen all too often. Oh depth perception, he never knew how much he loved you until you were gone.

And yet the milk keeps dripping on the floor; cold, cruel and undeterred by his struggles and frustrations.

To continue: Paper towels. Broom. Scoop. New try. Deep sigh. ]

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[ More than anything else Philip wants to reassure Dean that he's perfectly fine. Needless to say that bending the truth is required to achieve this goal.

Needless to add that there are currently certain aspects of the truth that refuse to be bent or shifted in any way, aspects that are still screaming, "HEY DEAN, REMEMBER HOW YOU SHOT ME AND STABBED MY EYE OUT".

That involuntary flich was only one of them. One Philip sincerely wishes Dean hadn't noticed, especially since he can only guess all too well what it translates to in his friend's mind. ]

It wasn't me.

[ Much as Philip loves avoidance as a coping tool, there's an elephant in the room and he's playing guitar hooked up on a speaker system. ]

You attacked Clarence, not me.

[ He turns to look at Dean. ]

You know that, right?

{Really now? When did that happen? Pretty sure I was out for your little mafia party. }

[It wasn't him. It was Clarence.

He wants to bite back with a "But I still hurt you" sort-of retort, but that wouldn't help anybody. He's learning to curb that much more wicked tendency to snarl at everything.

Somehow, Philip's reassurance isn't as reassuring to Dean as it ought to be.]

Yeah, sure.

[Yeah, right. There isn't a fine line between convincing and unconvincing when it comes to Philip. It's all about as obvious as being hit in the face with a brick. They've gotten a little too good at gauging each other's feelings, now. Damned manly bonding time.

Dean nods, because he knows it'll make Philip feel better, and it sort of makes himself feel better as well. Delusion is the way to go, right? Right.]

That event was all screwed to Hell, anyways.

[Dean winces. Nice allusion, buddy.]

[ That was about as convincing as an ode to Octopussy as the best James Bond movie.

And Philip really wants to keep digging, because it doesn't make him feel bad, it makes him feel angry, because after everything Dean told him the hunter just doesn't have the right to--

He shouldn't be allowed to feel bad. And he definitely shouldn't be allowed to drop the distinction between Philip and Clarence to do so. ]

[ But Philip is in no condition to slam Dean against a door in the vicinity (and let's be honest, two good arms probably wouldn't improve those odds either), so all he can do is force himself to remember the view from the other side and hope that Dean knows how to deal.

Delusions it is. At least that way is easy enough... ]

Well, what did you expect from an event with a permanent voiceover?

Woulda been cool if I hadn't been a douchey hitman.

[The problem is that Dean forgave Philip. A while ago. Back before the vampire event. He got over it - he told himself he did, because it had been Clarence. The repercussions on Philip had been only mental at the time, and now there they were, clear as day, gashes on his face and arm.

Dean had let that grudge go.

Obviously it hadn't been gone long enough. Stayed dormant, maybe, but if there was some part of Dean that even he wasn't aware of, something vengeful and dark- Hell, he already knew it existed. There was always the potential. It just decided to rear its ugly head now. And Dean can't exactly forgive himself for that.]

Look, dude, I-

[I'm tryin' this new thing out. It's called talking to people about my damn problems. Like a What Would Jesus Do? Only it's a What Would Sam Do? It's really friggin' hard and I ain't good at it, but I'm trying, okay?]

...I'm sorry, man. I know what you're gonna tell me, 'cause I told you the same damn thing the last time, but just- [Forcing. The words. Out.] -hear me out for a second?

...Sure.

[ Philip's look says that Dean has his full attention, but the teeth biting down on his lower lip say that it was a close call, that he almost denied the request, because that should be all there is to it. ]

[He gets the hesitation, because guys like them don't share feelings. It's just how the world works. Wonderland, on the other hand, works differently, and it's obvious that Dean isn't enjoying saying what he needs to say just as much as Philip isn't enjoying listening in.]

I get how you felt, okay? And it sucks, and I'm- I'm tryin' not to let it get to me, and take my own advice, and I've never been good at takin' advice from anyone.

[Unless it was Dad.]

So...I'm just tryin' to say that I'm really sorry that we both look like friggin' pirates, and getting back to things like me making fun of your lady-friends would be easier, but if I've learned anything it's that not many people here...have close...friends.

[Jesus, that was a painful sentence to say. Avoiding eye contact makes this considerably easier.]

And...you're my friend, so.....thanks.

[ Philip tenses and waits for the inevitably but, an objection to any and all attempts at alleviating Dean's guilt.

But the accusation never comes and the actual conclusion prompts as much surprise as it does relief. ]

Dean, if--

[ Philip wonders just how to word what seems so obvious beyond discussion to him. ]

If it wasn't for you I'd... I would have frozen to death, probably had my head split open by a pickaxe and-- [ Hesitation. ] And God knows what else, so...

[ A smile of the genuine kind appears on his face. ]

So don't mention it.

{ Seriously, don't. 'Cause I'm gettin' internal bleeding from all the sap. Didn't think that was a thing? Go figure! }

[ Translation of the above minus Clarence commentary: I strictly platonically guy-love you too. ]

[Don't mention it? Don't mention it. Glad we came to that little agreement there. Dean doesn't usually consider "saving people" as a kind of social nicety - it's his job, so he doesn't expect thanks most of the time. He doesn't really expect thanks ever, actually, but hearing it is nice all the same.

It never crosses his mind, then, that maybe there are people out there who are grateful for his assistance. Strictly platonic guy-loves or not.]

Cool. Well, uh.

[So wrap up the afternoon soap moment, Laverne and Shirley.]

...that was...real graceful of me, so I'm gonna make a motion for a shot of liquor and some sleep.

[ A smile. Tolerance aside, there is only so much booze and painkillers the physicist mixes willingly. ]

I think I'll need to pass on the liquor today, but-

[ Philip stands up. ]

-knock yourself out.

[ He certainly will. Just as he'll actually be taking his leave now. ]

I'll call you later.

Later.

[Dean gives a short wave and turns back to his coffee. Knocking himself out sounds like the best plan yet.]

one attempt at one-eyed brunch [21/??? artefacts collected]

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