26: [Action] Dazed and Confused

[dashboardlite]

[ Dean is only a little twitchy.  He never really feels like he needs things, but right now he's lacking.  Something.  Something big.  It's not starvation, because when he's hungry, he gets food.  When he wants sex, he finds Cas.  Dean doesn't get cravings because he's always well-fed.

But what he needs right now is people.

So Dean is wandering

Comments

[sadfreezingbrit]

[ Well, Dean. Prepare for an a-maze-ing encounter, because somebody here is not afraid to brace the hedges without a sugary guide.

...Although he is quite surprised to meet Dean at the exit once he returns from his walk. ]

...What are you doing here?

[ Since their last encounter Philip's sunglasses have been replaced with a considerably smaller eyepatch, but the sling around his arm is still intact. ]

[dashboardlite]

[Dude, you don't know what could be lurking in that maze. Dean has read the Greek myths. He knows the stories.]

What's it look like I'm doing, pickin' daisies?

[And no, there are no daisies about, in case you were wondering.

It's kind of nice to see Philip again, even the two of them resemble some manner of mismatched comedy duo with their fanciful eyepatches and comically surly expressions.]

I'm-

[He nudges a stick with his shoe and sighs in a put-upon fashion. Oh, the life of Dean Winchester is so hard. So hard.]

-wandering?

[Good answer.]

[sadfreezingbrit]

You're. Wandering.

[ Really, Dean? Because coming from the hunter that sounds about as plausible as picking daisies. ]

[dashboardlite]

...yeah?

[He grins sheepishly, totally convincingly, and shoves his hands in his pockets. Rocking back on his heels, Dean rolls his eyes up to the sky and then back to Philip.]

Nah, not really. 'M just- [That gravel there? Oh man, it is so being kicked into the hedges.] ...I feel weird. Like I need somethin'. Dunno what it is, but,

[Shrug.]

I sorta feel better now.

[Now that you're heeeeeeeeeeee~re with meeeee~eeee!]

[timisnotme]

*If Dean ventures too close to the hedge maze he'll hear the sounds of chaos as Masky works off his frustrations by tearing that shit apart. He's a few rows in and he has a pretty savage looking machete, and he's chopping the fuck out of those hedges.*

[dashboardlite]

[Dean wanders a few tentative rows in, peering around a massive hedge to witness-

...well. That isn't something you see every day.]

Dude. You got a bee in your bonnet or somethin'?

[timisnotme]

Have a what? No.

Told Mark wouldn't stab people.

Am killing the hedge.

[dashboardlite]

Killing the hedge.

[Right, because that's...normal.]

What'd it do, insult your girlfriend or somethin'?

[out_of_minutes]

Castiel is himself heading to the kitchen. He's feeling... strange, restless today, like he needs something. A sort of hunger. And he has discovered a fondness for peanut butter, so he's trying that first. Granted, he rather suspects it won't suffice, but it certainly won't hurt, so it's as good an aim as anything.

When he gets there, he sees that he's been preceded.

"Dean."

He notices Dean isn't quite his usual self either. It's only small things, but they add up: a tension in his shoulders, the way he handles the cooking utensils a little less graceful than his wont, the way he's humming songs but keeps changing the tune like he can't make up his mind.

Castiel's own worries are momentarily disregarded. "Are you alright?"

[dashboardlite]

"I'm fine," Dean replies curtly, even though he's not. Admittedly, he felt a whole lot better after talking to Philip, but he still has the sense that he's missing something. As a result, he's a bit jumpy. Fuck you, spatula. You belong in the sink now.

Sighing and rubbing both hands over his face, Dean turns to look at Castiel apologetically.

"...sorry," he mutters, a smile twitching on his face. He meanders over to the angel and looks him over quickly. Looks like he isn't the only one with problems today.

"What's up, Doc?"

[out_of_minutes]

Cas internally flinches a bit (the only outer reaction is a blink) at Dean's terse response. Even if Castiel were in the habit of reading thoughts, there would be no need in this situation: it's obvious that Dean is not fine.

He half-smiles at Dean's immediate apology, and decides not to point out that he isn't a doctor, as he suspects Dean doesn't mean it literally.

"I feel... strange. Unsettled."

More to the point, he feels. Which is nothing new, but the direction of these feelings is. He has never felt a particular urge to have someone to hate, for instance.

That's different from smiting, shush.

[dashboardlite]

"Unsettled like how?"

Dean is lucky. He's got all of his quadrants filled, sure, even if he hasn't gone out and confronted them personally. He hasn't taken into account the fact that Castiel might be wanting for anything, but the added pressure of feeling tense thanks to this event has set him on edge regardless.

And he's totally fine. Totally. It shows in the rigid body language and anxious shifting.

( action; )

[sunflowersunday]

[ Oh look there is someone breathing outside your window clutching a bag like the Santa Claus of nightmares.

WHAT'S IN THE BAG? A SHARK?

Actually yes.

It is irrelevant whether Dean is on the ground floor or not. Seething hatred for all things American does not need gravity. It only needs rope. ]

( action; )

[dashboardlite]

[Well that is the most fucking terrifying thing he has witnessed in days, thank you very much, well done. Dean finishes choking on his whiskey long enough to glare at the creeper questioningly.]

...the Hell do you want?

[He has the vaguest inkling that he's seen this guy before, but can't remember where.]

( action; )

[sunflowersunday]

[ BREAAATTTHHHINNGGGG AGAINST THE GLASS. ]

Have a present! For Americans!

( action; )

[dashboardlite]

...yeah?

[Call him suspicious, but the dude with the Russian accent is kind of sketchy.]

What is it?