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

[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.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

And then Toby's in there, dropping his stuff by the living room doorway.

"Hey, man. Stay with me here. If your brain's not too banged up you can take some paracetamol and crash all you want."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

"'m awake, stop fussing," Dean grumbles, but there's no real venom behind it. It's a good thing Toby's gotten better at blocking because Dean is so not able to do that right now.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

"I'm not fussing, it's my job," Toby replies idly, stopping in front of Dean. He digs a penlight out of his pocket.

"Hey, look here."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Dean grumbles something else, but he opens his eyes so he can look at Toby and his annoying light. Ow.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Okay, eyes are pretty good. That's good. He puts the annoying light away.

"Any vomiting after the fact?"

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Simple yes or no questions, those are the best. Dean shakes his head no.

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

"Okay, good. Anything I should know about that might scream damage?"

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

"My head's killing me," Dean mumbles, closing his eyes again. "But not anything that's gonna kill me."

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

"Okay." He goes back to his bag, digging out a container of paracetamol tablets. "'Kay, looks good. Safe to say you're probably not about to die." On second thought, he shakes a few into his hand, rather than give Dean the whole bottle.

Just in case.

In a few moments he's back with some water, handing that and the pills to Dean. "Here."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

If Dean was paying attention he'd roll his eyes at Toby dumping a few instead of the whole bottle. It isn't like Dean hasn't had injuries before. He knows how to be safe enough.

Dean opens his eyes to stare at the pills warily, then shakes off the initial uneasiness and takes them. Once he has, he offers a half-grin at Toby. "Thanks, man."

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Toby slants him a grin, tilting him a casual two-fingered salute. "No problem. And hey, I'll leave a note for your brother to wake you up every couple hours, 'kay? Just to be safe."

[fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com]

Dean's grateful. Really. He looks up, and looks straight at Toby, eye to eye, letting him know that, hoping he gets it.

"Sounds good," Dean replies, yawning. "Night. Or... morning, whatever the hell time it is here."

[notcursed.livejournal.com]

Toby does get it, and even stops for a moment on his way out, making that eye contact. Then he smiles a bit.

"Later."