weirddreams | (no subject)

It had been a difficult few days gathering their friends around the country to the bunker for safety while the British Men of Letters hunted hunters of America. Sam couldn't sleep for more than four between six hours at a time during this. Tonight began even more rougher than past nights as word of mouth (text, calls, etc) began to pour in of hunters being removed from the board as if their lives counted for nothing. Suffice to say, Sam was anxious. Ruby tells him to find a book and take his mind off things before bed as worrying and staying up won't help him be part of the solution. He's looking through some of the publications he's never cracked open before, in his usual spot within the warded library.

Tired as he is, he can tell right away when he footsteps that it's Dean. Not looking over his shoulder, he confesses, "The only thing Toni was right about is that we never read half the wealth of knowledge in here. I don't know about you, but I'm going to start." He's not trying to start another conversation about the Brits, but it won't not be on the top of his mind until it's over. His finger runs between two volumes before he picks the one on the left. It's about dreams and the spaces in between. Sam finally turns to Dean. His brother's body language suggests they do talk about something else. He moves to the table, placing his chosen book down and takes the extra class he sees Dean brought. "What's up?"

Threaded | Flat

Dean is exhausted and he's well aware that Sam is too. However, he suspects that Sam is having as hard a time sleeping as he is, so he doesn't feel too guilty about bothering Sam, especially when he's bringing whiskey which will probably help both of them sleep.

They've lived together their entire lives; Dean would be disappointed if Sam couldn't recognize his footsteps. "You can give me the highlights," Dean says as he sets the whiskey and the glasses down on one of the tables. He doesn't want to talk about the Brits either. Once Sam asks what's up, Dean takes that as his cue to pour a couple of fingers of whiskey into both glasses, passing one over to Sam before taking a sip of his. He sets his glass on a side table next to one of the big, comfortable chairs before dropping down into it. He grumbled and sighed then shook his head. "Just a lot of shit going on. How're you holding up?"

Dean had a purpose and a topic in mind when he walked into this library, but he can't just dive into it like an emotionally well adjusted person.