014: [visual] picking fights with vampires again, Dean?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

The tablet clicks on as it hits the couch in Bobby's house rather violently. The way it landed, on it's side, lets the viewer have a clear visual of Dean throwing himself into the chair opposite the couch, nursing a bloody nose, several nasty looking bruises and a wounded ego. He's irritated because of the fight he'd gotten into with Cian, and he's still not willing to think that there are actually good vampires, so he's ignoring the fact that Cian didn't kill him and drink his blood, preferring to sulk over his injuries.

When he finally looks up from rubbing tenderly at his head and sees the tablet recording, he jumps up and rushes to grab it. Those same viewers can probably hear Dean cussing under his breath as he turns the visual function off.

Comments

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Sam's messing with the first aid kit, yeah. Not much he can do for a concussion though.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Jeez. Trouble just follows you around, huh. [quiet because he wants to know... but doesn't... bah.]

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

You've got no idea. [Pause. Sigh.] Or maybe you do.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Not to your extreme, man. [pauuse] So does Sam know what to look for to make sure the concussion's not too severe?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

[Dean's zoning slightly. His answer comes a little late.] We've got pretty much basic first aid knowledge, dude.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

[And you guys do this for a living? Fffffffff.] ... Okay... you having trouble concentrating, by any chance? [B| he knows you are. Toby's actually getting ready to head over whether Dean likes it or not.]

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

[Well, they do go to the hospital sometimes.] ... Sort of. [Dean admits grudgingly.]

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Headache, dizziness, things getting blurry? [uuugh, why think of Frank /now/...] Do you remember everything that happened?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

[Oh, fun, interrogations. Dean grumbles:] Headache. Dizzy. A little blurry. [Pause.] I remember what happened.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Alright. [pause - oh right, this is Dean he's talking to] You been drinking anything since?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

[Answers are taking a little more time than they should.] No, I haven't.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

[Huuuurrying.] Hey. Dean. Stay with me, 'kay?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

What? [Blinkblink awake.] 'm awake. Swear.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Yeah, well let's keep it that way. Just keep talking, 'm almost there.

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Right. [He's drifting, just a little.] ... Hey, you talked to Sam, right? Sam's not here. Went out. But he's in Taxon.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

[talking louder than usual to KEEP HIM AWAKE, HI DEAN] He left? [whaaaaat] Okay. Know where he went?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

[ACK hello there loud Toby voice, Dean might have jumped a little.] To get food, I think. Not his fault, told him I was fine.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

[jumping is good! and Toby's just about there.] Alright. So your brother, everything okay with him?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

He's alright. He's... kind of quiet. [Dean answers.] Haven't got to talk to him much, yet.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Guess you were a little busy, huh. [aaaaand SUP Bobby's house!]

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Yeah, guess so. [Dean sounds kind of like he wants to say more, but he doesn't.] Hey, man, you don't have to. Don't want you to have to deal with my head.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Hey, I'll deal with it. Otherwise I won't have a head to have to deal with. Door's unlocked?

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

[Dean nods, and then realizes that Toby can't see him.] Yeah. Door's open.

[location: Bobby's]

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Toby turns the tablet off and walks inside, looking around for Dean, starting in on the blocking, which he's happy to be getting better at. He heads for what he thinks is the living room first.

"Dean?"

[location: Bobby's]

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Dean's there, in the living room, slumped in a chair. His tablet's on his stomach, and he's half-awake. Not only is the concussion making him sleepy, but he hasn't slept yet, seeing as he never went to bed the night before.

But he does hear Toby's voice. "Hey," Dean answers, yawning and wincing.