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Tweak says, "It's raining men.."

winchester, sam. (ex_demonbloo908) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2011-10-02 15:03:00

Entry tags:

kat warbler, sam winchester

WHO: Sam Winchester and YOU?
WHAT: Someone has been nine kinds of paranoid lately. Time to double up on security.
WHEN: Afternoon.
WHERE: Wal-Mart. ~~He wants to be on peopleofwalmart.com, okay?!~~
RATING: PG.

Carts filled with food, clothing, and home decor whizzed past one another, creating the perfect combination of a prime example of ordinary routine. Normal people, getting normal things for their homes and lives. It was something that Sam had once yearned more than anything in the world and now, as he was pushing his own shopping cart, he couldn't help but pity them. Being oblivious to the terrors that were really out there was probably a nice sort of thing, but it didn't stop the monsters from coming. It didn't stop the world from flipping upside down and inside out to the point where it took everything you loved away and threw it back in your face, all fucked up and more confusing than ever. Sam bit down on his lip and peered into his cart. It was filled with rock salt, lighters, and empty kerosine containers. Stuff for the house. Stuff to keep them safe. More importantly, stuff to keep her safe.

It was common knowledge that, after a while, if a person kept up with the hunting gig long enough, they'd start veering off the deep end. Sam didn't think he was crazy, but he was pretty aware that he was going from cautious to paranoid in the blink of an eye. It made him think of Bobby, who always poured holy water into every drink offered. Or Rufus. Bastard was so paranoid, half the time he wouldn't even open his front door unless he knew for sure who was standing on the other side. And even then, he'd have had a shotgun in his hand to be sure. Sam was starting to feel that way. He had to double check everything, he had to make sure every inch of his home was contained and secure, and he had to start taking control of things again, because god only knew how long he'd gone without the steering wheel under the palms of his hands.

Not since the demon blood. That's when you lost control of everything, a mocking voice challenged in his head. Sam tightened his grip on the cart and veered his way toward the front of the massive store. He needed to get home. There were a few places he needed to reinforce with more salt and Sam really didn't want to leave Ruby alone more than he had to in order to take this trip. He'd been hovering - a lot - since she had gotten back. Sam was afraid if he left her alone for too long, she'd vanish. Just like she had before. Then once she was gone, everyone else would be, too. Dean. Mom. Adam. Everyone. Sam didn't think he could do it again.

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in ur game, stealing ur ota

sharkswithguns
2011-10-03 07:55 pm UTC (link)

So far, freelance photography in Lawrence was working out fine - the newspapers were willing to pay her to get decent photos, giving a couple of assignments here and there already. It was working, but that didn’t mean it was a well-paying gig. She was used to not making much - hell, back home she’d had rent to worry about, too, so she’d had even less money on-hand, but at least there she’d had years to get herself established. Here, she needed to buy all new... everything, really.

Kat had been putting off shopping for a while now - making due with one or two outfits bought quickly from the second-hand store not that far from the complex, doing laundry way more often than she’d have liked to, and just generally avoiding the issue. She really was not a big fan of shopping, okay? It was like every time she went into a store, the most annoying people ever happened to be in the same areas as she was. And, really, was there some kind of unwritten rule that women in the clothing department had to talk to each other, even if they were strangers? Kat didn’t exactly enjoy being harassed by some blond fondling pink miniskirts, asking her what she thought of this ‘ohmygosh so super cute’ top.

Seriously, she was pretty sure she’d much rather run into Lucifer himself.

...which maybe she would, who knew? It was Wal Mart after all, and pretty much everyone said the place was evil, so whatever.

Annoying blond woman turned away by a couple of biting remarks about how the pink from her top clashed a bit with the orange of her fake tan, Kat grabbed some clothes and high-tailed it out of there before the woman started crying or something. Normally achieving crying was sort of her goal in situations like that, but apparently it was a lot less fun crushing people’s spirits without someone to brag about it to. She couldn’t call her sister or Ethan, and tell them about it - they weren’t here. And, sure, she had the neighbor kid to harass, and Epiphany was pretty cool, but it wasn’t quite the same thing.

After she got out of the clothing area, she made a few stops (coffee, some mugs, a hammer and some nails, a couple dozen of those free paint-sample cards, and a couple tiny bottles of pepper spray, on a whim) and then headed off towards the front of the store, planning on grabbing some chocolate or something before she left, because, really, it was probably lunch time by now, and chocolate bars were totally acceptable lunches as long as they also had peanuts or something. She wasn’t really paying a whole lot of attention to her surroundings, just sort of darting out of one aisle into another, and narrowly avoided a proper collision as she completely obstructed the walkway. Definitely her fault.

“Hey, buddy, watch where you’re going.”

Of course, she wasn’t going to apologize for it.

On second glance, he was sorta familiar. Like, his face, she was pretty sure she'd seen him before somewhere, or whatever. But more important than that, he looked like he was trying to be a tree or something. Seriously, Kat was pretty sure there was no way it was safe to be that tall.

“Oh my God you are freakishly tall.”

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ex_demonbloo908
2011-10-04 07:44 pm UTC (link)

Sam didn't notice the tiny woman veering his way until it was too late. He had tried to avoid collision by pulling back on his cart (which resulted in one of the wheels rolling back and up the front end of his foot - ow), but the effort really hadn't been much use on his part. Bar the newly discovered foot pain, that was. Fortunately, the woman was a lot quicker on her feet than he was, so rather than making one hell of a mess in the middle of the aisle, Sam was instead coping with an irritated person. He hadn't been paying much attention to her before she'd rolled on by, so Sam didn't even think twice about it being his fault. It probably had been.

"I -- yeah, sorry," Sam tried, sheepishly looking down at the handle of his cart. Awesome. "I didn't mean...I wasn't paying attention. Sorry." He'd hoped to drop it at that. Maybe she wouldn't make such a fuss or say anything worthy of giving him a headache bigger than the one he already had. Maybe she'd let him walk away and go back to his house, where he'd slip into his newly found routine of patrolling the property with a shotgun in one hand and a bag of salt in the other like a crazy person.

Whatever. Crazy people had the right idea. They were usually the ones that survived longer than anyone else, right? Again: look at Rufus and Bobby. Crazy and paranoid were probably good things.

Just as Sam was beginning to push off to do just that, the woman started to speak again. Finally, Sam looked over at her, taking her in fully for the first time (he'd been too embarrassed to make eye contact before).

Sam ignored what she said about his height. He couldn't help it. It was her. Well, him. The him-her, even! "...dude, why are you a chick again?" First the chipmunk routine, now this. Oh god. Wait. Was he still a man? Sam looked down at his hands and then reached up to check his hair and face to be sure.

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sharkswithguns
2011-10-06 03:46 am UTC (link)

He was apologizing - score! Getting people to apologize when it wasn’t their fault was wonderful, made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Some people said that was where she was supposed to be feeling guilt, but apparently her guilt gland or whatever didn’t work the way most peoples’ did, or else guilt was a warm, fuzzy feeling. Whatever, she was counting it as a win, and she probably would have been content to let him move on, to go on her way, but then he was looking at her with a weird confused-worried sort of expression.

Did she have something on her face or something?

Whether she did or not, he was, like groping his face or something after he asked why she was a chick, and, what? Seriously?

“I really hope you don’t just walk up and ask other women that... or, no, I hope you do, but I want to see it happen. Five bucks says you get slapped.” It took her a second, but the familiar face, plus the weird stuff in his cart (no one buys that much salt all at once if they're not either a freak or trying to protect themselves against demons, right?), plus the question of why she was female all added up, and she remembered the dude from the boards, with the I.D.s and stuff...

Of all the people she runs into at the store, it’s the weirdo who thinks she’s his brother? Yeah, okay, obviously Lawrence was a weird place, but someone mistaking her for their brother? Wasn’t exactly a good thing; it couldn’t ever be called a compliment, she was pretty sure. And if it was, he’d have to have a damn good looking brother.

“Dude. I'm gonna say this for the last time, okay? I’m. Not. Your. Brother.” Hopefully that would be the last time, but she had a bad feeling that it wouldn’t be. That would just be her kind of luck.

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ex_demonbloo908
2011-10-09 09:52 pm UTC (link)

The way she was looking at him, like there was something medically wrong with him or something, made Sam realize that he was probably way in the wrong on this one. It was only then (okay, and after she pointed out that she was, in fact, not Dean), that Sam realized that this was that girl who had showed up shortly after the whole gender swap debacle. She was the not-Dean. Which was probably a good thing, since that meant that (a) Sam wasn't going to have to wake up worrying about figuring out his bra size again tomorrow and (b) Dean wasn't a chick. After everything that they had to put up with lately, Sam wasn't sure if he could handle adding that to the top of his list again. “Oh – uh, sorry. I was just – it's kind of weird seeing someone with the face that he was wearing back when...yeah.” Walking up to a woman and declaring that you thought that she was the female version of your brother probably was the textbook definition of social suicide. It was probably a good thing he wasn't in school anymore. And that this was Lawrence, Kansas, where people acted like freaks on a regular basis.

“I'm not really all that together up here today,” Sam confessed, raising a hand to point at his head to clarify as to where he wasn't together in the first place. “It's just been – well, you know. You've been keeping up with the crazy, right?”

Of course she'd been keeping up with the crazy. It was probably hard not to, being suck here in Lawrence and all. Sam awkwardly cleared his throat and looked down at the toes of his worn out boots. Right. He nearly plowed this poor chick over with his cart and had falsely accused her of being a man. What did people normally do in this kind of situation? Because, ah, awkward. “There's...a sale. On rock salt. Back that way.” Sam pointed over his shoulder, back toward the far corner of the store. “In case you wanted to stock up or anything. I usually tell people to, just in case.”

Yep, he was definitely making with the textbook definition of social suicide. Extreme social suicide.

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