>"Look around you Dean. You really think I'm going to bring you beer?"
Dean lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug, gesturing vaguely - flippantly - with the opposite hand a little. “Would’a been nice, is all.” If there was one thing Dean Winchester was good at (and there were many things he was good at), it was acting - it didn’t matter how upset he was, how sore and tired and worn thin, because he wasn’t going to let any of it show if he had a say in it, and he wasn’t too far gone right now to have lost that say. So there was a defiant set to the tilt of his chin, a casual flippancy in his movements as he drummed the fingertips of one hand against his thigh, a defensiveness to the way his shoulders were rounded, like he was waiting for this to turn into a fight, but pretending that he felt completely unthreatened.
>"What do you think you're accomplishing by doing this sacrificial bullshit Dean?"
He wasn’t an idiot - there were several things he wasn’t going to say, things like so it’s okay for you to be all self-sacrificial, send yourself to Hell for just my life, but I can’t save everyone’s lives when we don’t even know anything will happen to me? It was a question that had been bothering him for a while, everyone’s dismissal of this option had fueled it and built it up to the point where it was frustrating, felt like they were completely overlooking the whole point of all of this. Saving people, wasn’t that what they did? Every day they went out hunting something, they were putting their lives and well-being on the line. So what if this one had a slightly higher chance of biting him in the ass? If it worked, that was good enough for him - shouldn’t that be enough?
But it wasn’t, and it wasn’t going to be, and he wondered - not for the first time - what they’d say if he let them stop him, and he turned out to be right. How much they’d blame him for not doing this sooner, how much they’d blame themselves for stopping him when they did. He wasn’t going to wait around to find out - as soon as he could get in contact with Zachariah, he was going to say yes, and they weren’t going to be able to do anything about it. They’d thank him later, whether he survived or not.
Dean laughed slightly, didn’t take the time to be lost in his thoughts, letting out a quick breathy sound that was somewhere between a scoff and an unspoken this is ridiculous, barely a laugh at all, hands spread, arms out as if to say isn’t it obvious? “I don’t know, Dad. Saving the world..?” Smart-assery was not something he usually ever used with Dad, so the implied duh? in the tone was probably not ever going to not feel wrong, pointed towards his father.