Sam Winchester (
gavemea_45) wrote in
milliways_bar2007-07-02 08:53 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
(no subject)
If Sam never sees another catfish ever again, that'll be perfectly fine with him.
Perhaps especially not a giant spinning catfish -- which, as it turns out, isn't actually supposed to be spinning.
This would be why Sam is currently hunched over a table, poring over a collection of books, notes, his laptop, and John Winchester's journal, trying to figure out how on earth to exorcise a possessed statue of a fish.
As far as he knows, Dean's still back in the hotel room, laughing himself sick.
Perhaps especially not a giant spinning catfish -- which, as it turns out, isn't actually supposed to be spinning.
This would be why Sam is currently hunched over a table, poring over a collection of books, notes, his laptop, and John Winchester's journal, trying to figure out how on earth to exorcise a possessed statue of a fish.
As far as he knows, Dean's still back in the hotel room, laughing himself sick.
no subject
"I wish I could argue the point. And hey, that's awesome news--"
Sam brightens, looking interested.
"Anywhere in particular?"
no subject
"I'm just looking," she adds, a little hastily. "Nothing major yet."
no subject
no subject
She sneaks a quickly assessing glance at his laptop.
no subject
"Don't get me wrong, I like computers," he assures her hastily. "It's just they weren't my field of study, you know? I'm better with using them for research."
no subject
And this is maybe one of the three times in Mac's life where she's glad she lives in Neptune. It's a very weird feeling.
"Hey, as long as you know enough about them to not ask me where the 'any key' is, we're cool," she remarks with dry humor, continuing to eye the catfish. "Even if you are a Windows heathen."
Idly, she keeps skimming over the open windows, and --
"Ohhh." The relief in her voice is audible.
no subject
It's only then he realizes what all he has open on the screen.
Shit.
"... everything okay?"
no subject
She's snickering a little, reading a few more notes.
"Dude, you could have just said it was possessed. I was starting to think you were in a weird cult of weather vane vandalizers or something."
no subject
"... wait, you know about that sort of thing?"
There's a disbelieving smile starting to appear, too.
no subject
no subject
Sam's smile is growing.
"We're friends. We've got -- a lot of the same interests, I guess you'd say."
no subject
(Which says a lot, none of which Mac's going to say out loud.)
"So you do the vampire- and demon-hunting stuff for a living, too?"
no subject
To his credit, Sam doesn't even twitch at the word 'demon,' although there's a flicker in his eyes for a second.
"-- I guess you could call it the family business."
no subject
no subject
There's an annotated Bible, a book of Roman rituals, and several volumes dealing with either fish, haunted items, or sometimes both. One of the books is very different from the rest, though -- it's a journal bound in leather, with scraps of paper sticking out of its pages. It looks as though it's been well-used, and yet it's well cared for.
"What kind of job involves jet skis?"
no subject
As she continues the survey of the book collection, the journal's getting more and more of her attention. She lifts a curious eyebrow.
no subject
But as he follows her look, Sam's smile fades.
"... that's my dad's journal."
no subject
Awkward. She scratches the crook of her elbow, more out of a need to fidget with something than because of an itch.
"Bad topic?" she asks, the words pretty close to a wince in and of themselves.
no subject
Sam leans back in his seat a little, and runs one hand through his hair.
"It's -- you know how I said it was kinda a family business? Dad, um-- he's the one who started it."
no subject
"So that's...all of his notes on it and stuff? Passed down through generations? Or, uh -- " Embarrased. "Generation. Singular."
no subject
Sam shrugs.
"He's on a hunt right now."
no subject
"He takes all the cool ones and leaves you to hunt the possessed catfish?" she asks.
no subject
"... you could say that, yeah."
no subject
Crap.
"Bad topic," she repeats at a mumble, wry and a little flat, dropping her gaze as she drums her fingers against the tabletop once. A deep breath, in prelude to what she hopes will be a less crappy topic.
Which of course is the exact second when she can't think of anything else to say, and just has to blow out the breath in an inaudible sigh.
Ten seconds to go until she scoots the chair back and makes a break for it.
no subject
"Hey, don't-- it's not your fault, okay? Dad and I -- we don't always see eye to eye on things, that's all. And I wanted to be there on this hunt, but instead--"
He gestures at the references on catfish. His tone is half-wry, half-rueful.
"You didn't say anything wrong, Mac, I promise."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)