[It's in Dean's nature to figure out what's going on, too; not that he always gives in to it these days, but it's there. He gets it. Hard to solve what is still a mystery, after all.
It hadn't been a picnic for anyone, but Dean had come alive for a few days; even bedridden now, even with his assortment of cuts and injuries - many of which only just missed being serious - he'd been better off, there. He'd understood the world and his place in it exactly, had an outlet and a target for his anger, had a way to be useful. Now...
Now Stiles offers him 7UP and for several moments Dean just stares at him. It's not that he doesn't recognize why it's being offered, isn't even that it never occurred to him, but it's something almost from another life for him. It's a small comfort, more placebo and home remedy than anything, and it is what mothers do for their sick kids, what brothers do for their sick brothers, it is mundane and simple and no one has offered anything like it for Dean since he was old enough to unscrew the top of a 2 liter by himself.
He just barely stops himself from shaking his head.] Anything but water's coming right back up. [And sometimes water, too, but Dean has survived worse. He'll get over it or he won't, and he's not particularly bothered by the latter option as most might be; not his ideal choice of a way to go, of course, but he's long since stopped expecting to get his preference.
He needs to move this along before Stiles starts honing in on figuring out what's going on with him, though. He has the perfect target.] Who was the woman?
no subject
It hadn't been a picnic for anyone, but Dean had come alive for a few days; even bedridden now, even with his assortment of cuts and injuries - many of which only just missed being serious - he'd been better off, there. He'd understood the world and his place in it exactly, had an outlet and a target for his anger, had a way to be useful. Now...
Now Stiles offers him 7UP and for several moments Dean just stares at him. It's not that he doesn't recognize why it's being offered, isn't even that it never occurred to him, but it's something almost from another life for him. It's a small comfort, more placebo and home remedy than anything, and it is what mothers do for their sick kids, what brothers do for their sick brothers, it is mundane and simple and no one has offered anything like it for Dean since he was old enough to unscrew the top of a 2 liter by himself.
He just barely stops himself from shaking his head.] Anything but water's coming right back up. [And sometimes water, too, but Dean has survived worse. He'll get over it or he won't, and he's not particularly bothered by the latter option as most might be; not his ideal choice of a way to go, of course, but he's long since stopped expecting to get his preference.
He needs to move this along before Stiles starts honing in on figuring out what's going on with him, though. He has the perfect target.] Who was the woman?