Dean Winchester (rambledon) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-12-15 21:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !thread, dean winchester, sam winchester |
Who: Sam & Dean
What: receiving Christmas presents from the tesseract.
When: December 15th
Where: Dean’s apartment.
Warnings: feels? otherwise TBD.
Status: thread; in-progress.
Sam was right in the middle of his final exams, but with the LSAT behind him, he’d started to feel that he was on the home stretch. That maybe he really would complete everything, finally manage to graduate, and that this time next year, he’d be in law school. Of course, he knew better than to count on that before it actually managed to happen-- and even if it did, he might well be alone in this universe at that point, which would make it significantly less enjoyable-- but nevertheless, he was enjoying the hope of it at the moment. It was the holidays. He was allowed to hope, right? He got back to his apartment to find that there was a box outside his door. He immediately checked it over, and then opened it carefully-- to find that there was a large, old binder inside. When he opened it up, the first page revealed that it was in fact from the Men of Letters’ records, and as he flipped through it, he found that it detailed the wards used on the bunker, many of which he’d never even seen before. He closed it and looked at the box it had come in, noticing the SHIELD stamp for the first time. Had this really come through the tesseract, like the things he’d noticed other people mentioning on the network lately? Instead of going inside to his own apartment as he’d planned, he headed down the hall to where he’d originally stayed with Dean. He was about to open the door with his key, and then noticed a much smaller box sitting on the ground, this one addressed to his brother. Picking it up, he unlocked the door and stepped inside, carrying both boxes. “Dean?” he called out, announcing his presence. “Looks like we’ve got presents from the tesseract.” --- He seemed to be on the brink of a new beginning. It was rare that he could look upon his life and see the future as though he had a say in it. Usually, it came and went according to newspaper clippings, rare sightings, weird talk -- things that kept him on the road, coming and going, until it all settled down to one thing. His life didn't "belong" to him. That he had never seen his life beyond hunting had never bothered him. His younger brother was the one with the plans, the dreams, the goals. Dean had his family, what remnants were left of it, and hunting. But what he had witnessed of his life back home, of what was to come, he didn't know if he could face that with his usual reckless abandon. He was scared, and worried, and a little bit uncertain. They had fought demons, witches, werewolves, and even heaven's hosts. But themselves? How the hell did you expel an angel from your brother, without that angel's awareness? He couldn't see how the two of them were going to get out of this. Or, any of it, really. The whole heavenly hosts expelled to earth was the worst. He hadn't told Sam that he had caught up on their "show." He hadn't seen Sam in a few days. He had suspected that his brother had exams, and a life outside of worrying about the future. As hard as it was for him, he had accepted that his brother had found a life outside of their "lives." He was glad that Sam had found that. And maybe, in the past week or so, he'd been seeking his own life outside of "life." He had had a few interviews in the Bronx, mostly with chain service stations that were only looking for entry-level general technicians, but what the hell. If you were going to do something, you may as well be optimistic about it. Which was why, in spite of all the shit back home, things were looking up. There was a special swing in his step, his favorite Led Zeppelin album turned all the way up, as he destroyed Luigi in Super Mario Kart. It was one of those days when he was free from everything that had plagued him, everything, including his past life of sins, and torment, and torture. He didn't hear Sam's key in the lock, or even notice his brother until he was standing directly in his line of sight. "Sam!" he said, reaching for the remote, and shutting off the music. "What's up?" The last time his brother had showed up unannounced, they had had a pretty intense conversation about the merits of their work, and he wasn't exactly prepared for another one of those. --- Sam could tell, just looking at his brother, that he was in a good mood. He was glad of it, because it had been a rough time of it lately for Dean: coming out of purgatory and adjusting to semi-normal life, feeling somewhat helpless to stop the fear gas here and the future they had at home, losing friends through the tesseract, struggle to find some kind of meaning in the life they had here so that things made sense to him. Apparently something had been working out, and the obvious difference in the way Dean was carrying himself made Sam smile. “Presents,” he repeated, holding out the smaller, unopened box that had arrived outside Dean’s door, labeled with his name. “From the tesseract. That one’s for you,” he continued, and then held up the binder, “And this one came for me, but it’s for both of us. For the cabin.” He opened it up to show Dean a glimpse of the blueprints inside, warding sigils marked in the corners and in different patterns around the foundation and under the floors. “I don’t even recognize half of these, but we should put them in, don’t you think?” --- When Sam mentioned presents, Dean's mood brightened further. In spite of everything that had happened to them over the years, the holidays were his favorite time of year. He had already decorated his apartment in three layers of garland and Christmas balls, most of which he had found at the local thrift store. And he intended to do the same at the cabin, as soon as he was able. That a mystical blue box had agreed to take part in the festivities only added to his joy (and his suspicions - was this a coincidence? or was the Tesseract more sentient than they realized?). He took his gift from his brother, weighing the box in hand. It wasn't heavy enough to hold a knife or a weapon, both of which would have been superfluous in this world. They didn't hunt in this world and, even if they did, he suspected that their weapons would be useless. Supervillains didn't fear bullets, did they? Ignoring his own gift, he looked at the book Sam was holding. He didn't recognize most of the sigils, either. "What are those from?" he asked. "They're not anything we've used before." Not that they'd ever had a place to use them in his timeline. He hadn't lived long enough to see the bunker, or the Men of Letters, but it was nice to know that eventually they had a home (even if it sucked). |