A video camera, recording, is propped up on Dean's bedside table, giving any viewers a wide frame of his torso and head. A bottle of Scotch sits next to it, half-empty. The Doors'
Touch Me is playing in the background, fairly quietly as Dean's music goes. He's thumbing through an automobile magazine, predictably, and humming along (a wee bit off
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"Dean, why are you drinking. It's 9am." Dean has schooled him well in the Etiquette of Booze, and he's pretty sure one is supposed to wait until evening. Or at least late afternoon.
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"Because, my nerdy friend," Dean grabs the bottle, lifting it in a mock toast before taking a swig. He coughs at the spicy liquor and chuckles a little. "It's my birthday."
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There's a pause while Cas holds the smile stiffly, then asks, "...should I be drinking too?" Is it a birthday rule or something?
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"...you don't have to. I figure I'll get something from the kitchen to celebrate."
Dean snaps the magazine shut and tosses it to the foot of his bed, uncrossing his legs and getting to his feet. "You wanna come? I was thinkin' of makin' some pie."
While he could ask for some, it's never quite the same as homemade, and it's one of the few things he could probably wrangle up on his own.
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And granted, he actually is in a fairly good mood for a change, so now is as good a time as any to make sure he doesn't break off contact with his new acquaintance. Neurotically worried because Dean didn't get back to him for over a week? Him? No way! ]
Hey... [ SMILE. ]
Happy birthday!
...Did you actually just almost forget about that? Your own birthday?
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And then there was that thing where Dean went hunting the Operator with very little information to back him up, and he got disemboweled and Cas put him back together.
But Dean shrugs off any spiteful comments in favor of accepting the birthday wishes, and he cracks a smile, rubbing the back of his head.]
...yeeeah, sorta. In my line of work, we don't exactly find time to celebrate a buncha stuff. But thanks, man. Feels kinda weird to be so close to thirty, but...eh. What're you gonna do, right?
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...It's really not that bad once you get past it.
{ You tell him, grandpa! }
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That ain't exactly the issue. [He quirks a wry grin.] In my reality, I'd be dead right now. I wasn't gonna live past twenty-nine no matter what.
[Angels be damned, Castiel can talk about the Apocalypse all he wants, but Dean is pretty set on the fact that he's going to Hell and nothing's going to bring him out of The Pit.]
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