748. it's always darkest before dawn

[mememaker]

HURT & COMFORT RP [EXPANDED 2.0]
Hurt/Comfort - Hurt/comfort is a fan fiction genre that involves the physical pain or emotional distress of one character, who is cared for by another character. The injury, sickness or other kind of hurt allows an exploration of the characters and their relationship.

- Post with Character Name | Series in the subject

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Dean Winchester | Supernatural | Open

[hunting_trip]

Prefer Dean to be the victim/injured party.

Take a spin of the wheel, and This girl would be happy to help.

[straightfromthe]

Aw yeah, let's do some 13. Not much of a stretch.

[hunting_trip]

[Dean would never admit to using alcohol as a crutch, much like he would never actually use crutches. Whether it was denial or he was just a stubborn jackass, though? Well, really, that was up in the air.

Either way, the fact of the matter was he'd been getting plastered. Absolutely plastered on a nightly basis. Sam gave up when he got a pretty neat albeit drunken punch to the jaw. He was dealing, alright? He hadn't fucked up the hunt, nobody died, just because he'd been half-lit at the time didn't mean he didn't get the god damned job done. Sam could fuck off. He said as much.

And Sam did.

And now he was alone in a motel room, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed because he fell off, knees drawn up to his chest and a rather sizable half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him.

And he absolutely wasn't an alcoholic.]

Sounds good. <3

[straightfromthe]

Sam didn't have the luck helping him because Sam was two-buckets of crazy on his own, plus, had a "drinking" problem he'd mastered by sheer...other people forcing him to. But alcohol is different. Alcohol is something Jo understands like the back of her hand, and alcoholism is something she unfortunately gets to see on a nightly basis. She didn't mind coming in when Sam had called and asked for help; no one could stop her from coming to Dean's rescue, and this wasn't likely to get her killed.

She unlocks the door to the motel room, having talked to the man in the office that she was looking for her boyfriend, and lets herself in. She sees him on the floor, and swallows a lump in her throat, sighing softly as she shuts and locks the door behind her.

"You are in one sad state of affairs, Dean Winchester," she murmurs, picking up first, the remote to the tv and turns it off, before the bottle, and sets it down next to the tv. Finally, she moves to kneel in front of him. "Look at me."

[hunting_trip]

He didn't hear her come in- or if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. Either way, it can be blamed on the alcohol, and isn't a very good state for a hunter to be in. She could have been a demon or the queen of fucking England for all he knew. Though, the salt at the door and the hex bags cut down on the former possibility a little, and why would the Queen pop 'round for a visit?

"Why'd you-" He protests indignantly, sadly. It takes him a second to look up. She turned off the tv. Why would she turn off the tv? Doesn't she understand- he doesn't like the silence. He doesn't want to be alone.

And she took his bottle. Why the hell- what right does she have to come in here and--

Oh, right. It's Jo. She could kick his ass until next week. Better not risk it. Because he's drunk- he's really really drunk, and she knows it, and now he looks pathetic, and Sam's gone, and Dad's gone, and... God

[straightfromthe]

Jo rolls up her sleeves, and is glad she's packed enough stuff to stay for a while. The state of him; well, it's just not...ideal, is it? This isn't "the" Dean Winchester she idolizes, and has always wanted to prove her mettle to. No, this was just a guy that'd seen and done too much---lost too much. And she---no, she wouldn't pity him. He'd hate her for that.

"No, you aren't," she answers, voice colder than she'd ever want it to be. "Your brother called, and he's dumped your sorry ass on me. Said somethin' about bein' wasted, and well, I think that's an understatement. Get up. I ain't leavin' until you're useful to someone again in your own fuckin' right."

[hunting_trip]

He'd be ashamed of tarnishing his image to her, he really would, except she never should've idolized him in the first place. Nobody should- how did they not get that by now? Those Supernatural fangirls, the ones that followed Chuck obsessively, they just... they just didn't get what a piece of shit he was. They just never got it. He shouldn't be looked up to- he should be put in a freaking mental ward.

He was shit.

Her voice snapped him into gear- evidently he was expecting a little pity, because the sharpness in her tone made him look up with a pitiful expression. He felt like a kid being chastised by mom, in that whole 'I'd have felt better if she beat the shit out of me' way. This was the equivalent of a disappointed head shake, and it made his chest tight. He was absolutely not going to have a breakdown in front of her. No way.

"Hey- I'm perfectly fucking useful, alright? Just... step off." He thrust out a hand, ran the other through his hair. "Jesus Christ, you're scary. And Sam's a pussy."

[straightfromthe]

Shouldn't have, should have...it doesn't matter. They are where they are, and they are who they are. And right now, she feels like it's her turn to save his ass, like all the times he's bailed her out of bad situations. And dealing with drunks is something that she does; it also helps that she has a fairly good idea where to apply pressure.

She crosses her arms over her chest, and rocks back on her heels a little. Goddamnit, getting a contact high just from smelling him talk...

"Damn right I'm scary," she answers, before batting at that hand. "And right now, you're the drunk fuck that can't even stay in bed. I'd take Sam the Pussy over this shit."

[hunting_trip]

They are who they are, and right now, Dean's a mess. He's too tired to give any fucks, and he's face to face with one of the people that makes him. God bless her, at least she's not Ellen or she'd have smacked him across the face so many times by now.

Jo's not supposed to be here.

His mind keeps going back to that fact, an endless loop thanks to alcohol, stuck on repeat, and he's being treated like one of the regular assholes at her bar. That's not the same- that's not even remotely the same.

She just picked Sam over him. What- that's not- that's not how that's supposed to go. They're supposed to have, like, a thing. Some weird kind of... thing. This is bullshit.

"Jo- what the hell do you want from me? I'm done, alright? I'm just so... freaking done." Done with Hell, done with demon blood. Done with the lies, done with people dying. "So just... take your Strong Woman m.o. and peddle that crap somewhere else."

[straightfromthe]

She's tempted to start 'layin' on of hands' as her mother likes to call it now. Because if there's anybody that needs a good smack around, it's Dean. She wonders if it's mostly because he grew up with his Dad, rather than his mother like she did.

And she hates what she's having to say to him. The lies taste a little bitter; the harsh words taste worse. But if it gets out of him what she needs, well, she's willing to sacrifice the thing they have in order to get him to be able to function---to move on, and to save the world, because damn if that's not more important than her. Even if she'd rather him stay with her...that their thing was a little more normal; that she could actually give enough of herself without fear.

"So, you rather be left alone?" she asks, an eyebrow lifting. "Rather be left on the floor of some stinkin' fuckin' motel with nobody but yourself? That's fuckin' pathetic. You're a fuckin' child."

[hunting_trip]

God help him if she starts 'layin' on the hands'. Even if he were sober, he wouldn't try and defend himself from a waylaying Jo- let alone lay hands on her. Whatever she's hitting him fore, nine times out of ten he deserves to be hit for it. Right now is no exception.

He contemplates the question- wants to snark back hell yes, I'd rather be alone, but even drunk- especially drunk, he knows it's not true. He doesn't do alone. He tried, once, when Sam went to college. It... it wasn't good. He wasn't good.

His voice is low, cracked when he answers, "I know."

It's true. He's pathetic- a fucking kid right now. "I get it, okay? You're right. I get it. You win. I give up. Whatever you want."

[straightfromthe]

She doesn't want to have to hit him. Hell, even when he deserves it, she doesn't really like to...even if she feels vindicated occasionally for his trespasses against her.

Jo sighs a little, and shakes her head, before she stands and starts to try to haul him back into bed. "'Course I'm right. Do you know who I am, Winchester? I'm Jo Fuckin' Harvelle...Queen of the fuckin' Universe. Please tell me you don't havta pee."

[hellunbounded]

Is it okay for me to tag?

[hunting_trip]

Fo sho, absolutely! Come at me, bro, any time!

[hellunbounded]

Awesome! I got 4 (ouch, boys) - you wanna set it up? :3

o7

[hunting_trip]

[Well, on the bright side, it all started out okay. The leads were solid, the case was easy, it took all of a day to track down the nest of vamps and less than two hours to start dispatching them. Turns out, they'd been holing up in the sub-basement of an old apartment building, slowly sucking the life out of the tenants through a series of ventilation shafts that heated the bedrooms. It was an older building, the heating was... wonky.

He tracked the last one down to the in-house launderette and was about two swings with a machete away from beheading it when the smarmy bastard lobbed bleach at him like that dick in Karate Kid did with the sand.

He totally Mister Miagi'd that bastard, but he got a pretty good eyeful of Clorox.

And he's not ashamed to admit he yowled. Screamed, almost, because holy Jesus was that just the most painful thing he'd ever experienced. The blade slipped from his hand and he half-staggered into a washing machine, hit his knees, slammed his fist into the floor.]