InsaneJournal

Who: Percy Weasley and Sam Winchester
When: After this post
Where: Sam’s place
What: Drinking
Rating/Warnings: Probably mentions of unsavory things, cursing, drinking, so... adults, please.
Status: Complete


Sam was already tipsy when Percy showed up at his place. He was on the sofa, nursing the bottle, and the place was pretty dark. Only the kitchen light was shining, casting long, dark shadows over things. It was very, very depressing. Sam was feeling depressed. He couldn’t seem to get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

“Sam?” Percy had taken the note that the door would be unlocked and let himself in without knocking (unusual, for him, but this seemed to be a fairly unusual situation). It was very dark, and he had to resist the urge to pull out his wand in order to brighten the place up a bit. Or just turn on a light switch, for that matter.

“Goodness,” he said instead, squinting as he walked into the living room to find Sam on the couch. He gave a tiny sigh, and then turned toward the kitchen to retrieve a glass for himself. “You’re having a hard time of it,” he said, loudly -- pointedly.

Sam gave a little nod. He hadn’t so much been hit by it in the face over one night, but the accumulation of the dreams was wearing him down. It was hard to see past it now. He didn’t really have an outlet--no one to talk to about these things. And he didn’t want to confess to Deryn, for fear he’d terrify her about all of this. “...I can’t get the taste of blood out of my mouth.” He said, then lifted the bottle to pour some into Percy’s glass.

Percy waved a hand when his glass was half full, and then settled himself onto the couch, faced toward Sam. His expression was one of vague interest, a little wary. “You’ve never said much about your dreams,” the redhead noted, prompting for more without actually asking. He didn’t really need to ask -- this was why he was here in the first place.

Sam poured his own glass again, nearly to the brim, then set the bottle down on the coffee table and took a long pause. He gulped from his glass once, not even wincing anymore as the liquid burned its way down to his belly.

“They’re not good, Perce. Not good at all.” He said, shaking his head. He sighed and leaned said head back against the top of the sofa to stare up at the ceiling. “...My brother and I hunt demons, ghosts, vampires, that sort of thing. And when I was a baby, a demon fed me his blood so I’d be... something of a super soldier.” He sipped again, wanting to just get through it, get it off his chest.

“As an adult I was... I found out that I could do things with the power of my mind--I mean, real X-Men stuff. But I had to drink demon blood to do it.”

Percy blinked, took a sip from his own glass, and did wince as he swallowed. He wasn’t generally one for drinks of these sorts beyond the occasional finger of brandy. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, he supposed.

“And if your mouth tastes of it,” his tone was politely curious (it was a tone he had mastered long ago), “I assume that means it’s something you got up to -- in your dreams.” It was a rare day when someone’s dreams sounded stranger and more fantastical than his own -- Percy wasn’t sure what to say.

"Yes." Sam said, without taking his eyes from the ceiling. He swallowed. "It happened a lot in my dreams. Something I knew was wrong, something I knew I shouldn't be doing, but I couldn't stop."

Percy dragged a finger around the rim of his glass, tracing the circle there. He was thoughtful for a moment, worrying on his bottom lip in a way which he usually might not. “Sam,” he said, after a beat of silence. “Can you -- do things here? Things you shouldn’t be able to?”

“No.” Sam said, giving his head a little shake. He was staring up at the pattern that the paint made on the ceiling. He couldn’t discern any shapes, it was like a really, really boring Pollock painting. “Not that I’ve been able to figure out. I think it requires the Demon Blood. That just doesn’t exist in this world.” Not that he’d drink it if he had the chance. Cough.

No Pollock was a good painting, Sam. Know that.

“And yet you taste it. How odd.” Percy glanced down at his glass, but did not take another drink. He had to pace himself, as he had no interest in sleeping on Sam’s couch as opposed to in his own home with James.

He looked back up, lips a thin line. “What’s the real problem, Sam?”

Boring doesn’t always mean bad, and not boring doesn’t always mean good. Sam was still staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern the little lines and splotches of the eggshell on eggshell as he thought about Percy’s question.

“What if I’m turning into him?” He asked after a long moment.

“Into your dream self?” Percy asked, looking for concrete clarification before moving on with his train of thought. It was important he knew for sure what was on Sam’s mind, after all.

“Yeah.” Sam said, eyes still on the ceiling. “I feel like I’m becoming more and more like him every day. I’m stronger, faster, I know how to do things no person should know how to do.” He swallowed, feeling like he might get emotional. His voice might break. He didn’t like that so he lifted his head to have another gulp from his glass.

“Having the skill set of your dream self doesn’t make you him,” Percy pointed out, not unkindly. “I can do things I shouldn’t be able to here as well. But I’m not the person from my dreams, even when I feel very similarly. There are too many factors at work here to make that even remotely possible anyway.” Of course, he wasn’t a demon blood drinking monster slayer, either. But the fact remained.

Sam may not have been a demon blood drinking monster slayer in this world, but the stuff that felt like it was bleeding over was terrifying him. The taste. The hunger. He gulped from his glass again. "What can you do from your dreams?" He asked, jumping on the change of subject.

Percy glanced up at Sam over the rims of his glasses, looking a bit shy about this topic, himself. He was used to the magic now, and really quite adept at it. But he hadn’t exactly told many about it - only people from his dreams and Wilson. But it seemed fair here - to help Sam out a bit.

“Magic, actually. As crazy as it sounds.”

"Magic." Sam repeated. He didn't think it sounded crazy, actually. After all, he was a demon blood drinking monster hunter. "I've dealt with witches. You one of those?" He'd met good and bad ones. Mostly bad, but he wasn't judging.

“Technically that’s the female version,” Percy said, because he absolutely had to correct mistakes, even now. “But yes. A wizard. I know some magic.” And as if to prove his point, he pulled out his wand, murmured something under his breath and created a little orb of light to brighten the room up a little. That was much nicer. “But the point is, I’m still me. Here. No one else.”

“Oh.” Sam said, feeling the alcohol making him a little slow and stupid. But the orb of light, that was damn cool. He couldn’t help break into a little smirk as he watched the light illuminate the room. “Wow. I never knew you could do … that.”

“Well, no.” Percy said, a little primly, as he tucked his wand back away again. “It seems a little strange to talk about.” It might not have been obvious, but Percy did try his hardest to fit in.

“It is. How long have you... had this power?” Sam asked. He wasn’t sure whether this was a relief or even more terrifying. Concrete proof that things from the dreams became real. But as far as he knew there were no demons in this world for him to … drink.

Probably there were, actually. But Percy wasn’t going to say so. Anyway, he firmly believed that just because he dreamt one thing didn’t mean he had to fashion his life like it. “Oh.” he sounded thoughtful. “Since -- well. February, about.” More or less a little after he and Sam had originally met.

"And... wait, February? After the blue flu?" Sam asked, trying to put that all together in his drunken mind.

“Yes.” Percy looked back down at his glass, holding it in two hands. “We didn’t know each other particularly well then. But -- I can admit I had a very hard time of it. Very hard.”

Sam paused for a long moment, looking over at Percy and watching him stare into his glass. "What changed?" He asked, finally. "What brought you out of that hard time?"

Percy shrugged-- just a tiny gesture that hardly suited him. "Well. I ignored it. Threw myself into work and studying -- for the bar exam. That helped a bit." He paused, looking up at Sam. "And then I met James. He helped immensely. I'm not even sure he knows how much."

"Huh." Well, that wasn't going to help Sam. He'd already met Deryn. It wasn’t as if he could meet her all over again, fall in love all over. If that was what would help, he was sure it wouldn’t happen. Actually, this was likely to be the end of them, if he told her. He assumed, anyway.

“I suppose it might be easier if you can do cool things like light up dark rooms.” Sam’s special power was forcing demons out of people. Not exactly all that special. Especially when he didn’t know anyone with a demon in them.

Percy hadn’t meant to suggest that Sam meet someone to deal with the issues. Having someone was more what he’d been implying. Then again, Sam was very drunk, and sometimes Percy was very bad at saying what he was thinking - particularly when it came to emotional things.

“I think what can be done means very little,” the redhead said, trying his hardest not to be offended. What Sam considered cool, Percy had considered utterly unacceptable. At the time. Now he liked it, but that was hardly the point. “It isn’t as if you have to attempt using what you dream about.”

Sam was very drunk. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open now, and the taste of blood was gone from his mouth. Both were fairly good things, though he was a little terrified that if he fell asleep he’d be in his dreams doing terrible things again.

“Well, it’s one thing to be dreaming about rainbows and unicorns and another to be dreaming about sawed off shot guns and demons,” Sam argued, though that wasn’t really what they were talking about, was it? “Why couldn’t I be from Deryn’s dreams? Why couldn’t I just... be a fucking pony?”

Percy might have preferred rainbows and unicorns as well, but that hardly seemed the point here. “We hardly get to choose,” he pointed out, sipping at his drink again. Really, he was taking it slow. He wanted to be able to drive home.

“Why don’t you talk to her about it?”

"Because I don't want her to know that I'm a monster." Sam responded, sounding quite bitter about it.

“You do think she’d actually think that?” Percy seemed surprised by that thought; he didn’t think Deryn was the most clever of girls, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think her to be an open minded or accepting sort.

“I don’t know. It’s what I think.” Sam admitted. There weren’t many things that Percy could say to change his mind on that one, really. Sam felt like garbage, and was wallowing in it. Poor thing.

“I haven’t talked to Dean about this. Just mentioned the Dreams once and he thought I was batshit crazy.”

Dean--? Oh. That was Sam’s brother. Percy had nearly forgotten. “Well, maybe he hasn’t dreamt yet,” Percy pointed out -- not very helpfully, but still. He didn’t talk to his own brothers about it, either. “But you know Deryn has.”

“I don’t know. How could she possibly understand? How could anyone possibly understand?” Sam asked. He was definitely feeling sorry for himself now. This was a pity party. Thanks for coming to his pity party, Percy.

This really was a pity party. And here Percy was, without any cake or anything. Sad. Which, he supposed, was the point. He sipped his drink further, rather feeling he needed it now.

“What makes you think she needs to understand as opposed to just empathize?” Which was funny for him to say, because empathizing was something Percy rarely if ever did.

"I... I don't know." Sam said. Big words make brain not work. "I just... I can't turn into that. I can't lose her. She's the best part of my life right now." Y'know, besides the law firm and his relationship with his brother. But really, Deryn was the reason he got up in the mornings sometimes. "I'm terrified to tell her because I just. .. can't lose her.. what if it scares her?" It obviously scared him.

Percy got that. His work drive and ethic was really high, and he enjoyed work probably more than most others. But that didn’t mean he didn’t think his own significant other was more important than all that.

“I don’t know,” he said, moving a little to set his glass down on the coffee table. “But lying and hiding things forever probably won’t keep her around either, I expect.” Percy wondered, absently, when he had become the relationship advice guy. It really didn’t make sense.

Sam gave a little nod. The room swam. He closed his eyes. He’d been tipsy when Percy arrived, but the alcohol was perforating his sasquatch-type body now, and he was bordering on passing out drunk.

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” Sam said, sounding a bit defeated now. “I’ve got to tell her.” She deserved to know. And what Percy was trying to tell Sam was right. Deryn could help Sam work through these things.

Yes, well. He knew he was right. But that wasn’t the point here, he supposed. He nodded, stood up to go get a glass of water from the kitchen for Sam. “You should drink some water before you pass out. You’ll appreciate it in the morning.”

Sam nodded again. He accepted the glass of water when Percy came back into the room, and set the remains of his glass of whiskey down on the table. “Thanks. I’m done drinking for the night. Gonna go pass out as soon as the water’s gone.” That was his drunken plan and he was sticking to it.

And it was a good plan. Percy couldn’t have made a better one, himself. He was glad that Sam didn’t have a very sudden urge to call his girlfriend -- that would just be awkward.

“It’s a fine plan. Do you need anything else? As lovely as your couch looks, I think I’ll sleep at home.”

“No no. If you’re safe to drive, go home. Send my regards to Wilson.” Sam turned to look over at Percy, and actually managed a bit of a smile. “Thanks. I... I really appreciate your coming over.” He was more than willing to let Percy go now. He was just going to curl up on the sofa himself and crash right there.

“I’ll do that,” Percy agreed with a little nod. “And -- it’s not problem. I’d always help if I could.” And then he turned to go -- leaving the orb of light behind. It’d fade out in a half hour or so.

And Sam would be asleep by then, anyway.