milliways_bar | (no subject)

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As soon as the shower had started running in the motel's bathroom, Sam had seized his chance. He yelled something indistinct about lunch, grabbed his laptop and messenger bag, and headed straight for Milliways without waiting for Dean to answer.

Now he's sitting at a booth, the laptop open in front of him, staring at something on the screen.

(From time to time he stares at a note, instead.)

Either way, it doesn't look like he's making much progress.

[ooc: open until it scrolls, with a break at 9 MT for tonight's episode of Supernatural.]

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Neither is the startled look on Sam's, more than likely.

He doesn't exactly jump, but a slight tremor runs through him as he jerks in surprise.

"Quick shower." His tone's a little flat and more than a little dry. "You sure you managed to get rid of all the soap?"

"Good job on avoiding the question, too bad I ain't that distractable."

He uses this moment to shoot a grin at Andrew, wide, bright, and totally fake.

"Hey, Andy, fancy meeting you here."

The feeling of caught! is subsiding into something else.

Maybe what he's caught them at has nothing to do with the subject under discussion. Maybe it's just that Sam's talking to him at all.

Dully: "Hey, Dean. How's life."

"Peachy!"

The response is instant and more than a little cheerful.

"Thanks for asking."

The startled look's gone, replaced by an expression that gives the impression that Sam would like to smack one or both of them upside the head right about now.

Hard.

"Looks like we're all doing just great, then." Even flatter than before. Sam glances at Andrew, then turns in his seat to face Dean.

"Since you've gotta know, we were talking about Ava."

"Yeah?"

Dean's eyebrows go up. Way up.

"Anything besides her whole yippee-skippy-the-evil thing? Because I could've sworn you two'd already covered that."

Tell him more, Sam.

Or Andrew.

Whoever wants to start talking first.

Dean's got all day.

Tomorrow's lookin' pretty fine, too.

For a moment he pictures himself standing up and just walking away.

"Mostly that," he says instead, very evenly. "Plus a couple local ramifications. Nothing all that earthshaking."

"That pretty much sums it up," Sam agrees.

A beat.

"So now that we've got that out of the way..."

"There's this bridge you just gotta get rid of?"

Someone here is not impressed.

"Yeah, pretty sure I've heard that one before. When you were eight. But that was a pretty good try at selling it, there. I give you guys a solid 7 out of 10."

Andrew glances at Sam, trying hard to keep his face expressionless.

"What the-- who do you think you are, the freakin' Russian judge?"

Sam snatches up the note that's lying on the table and shoves it at Dean.

"See for yourself."

Dean takes that note -- the one Sam practically shoved in his face -- and reads it.

He's still smirking, because you always keep up your front, always -- but the edge on it's a little different.

"Not earthshaking, huh? Good to know."

Because Ava feeling like Sam needs to know shit -- yeah, that's nothin' to pay attention to. Not at all.

He sets the note down.

"Russian judge, my ass. But when you're done with this little pow-wow, Sam, you and me're gonna have a talk."

Oh, are they gonna.

"Meanwhile, looks like I have some time to kill."

Dean's smirk gets a little wider and -- to a close approximation, at least -- a lot more genuine.

"Three guesses on what I'm gonna do, and the first two don't count. Andrew."

Sam's BFF gets a short nod before Dean makes a move to head back the way he came.

It'll be easier to grill Sammy when he's by himself, anyway. Habits as old as that, they die real hard.

Edited 2010-05-02 07:35 (UTC)

Well. That sounded kind of ominous.

Andrew returns the nod, and doesn't say a word until Dean's some distance away.

"What is he gonna do?"

Sam's still looking after Dean as he answers,

"He's gonna go get a beer and find somewhere where he can keep an eye on me until I pack up and head back."

He sounds tired, but completely matter-of-fact about it.

Andrew rubs a hand across his mouth.

"So maybe this is a bad time to ask," and the dry note in his own voice takes him somewhat by surprise, "but did you ever talk to him about the Council Library trip?"

"Yeah," Sam says, swinging back around to look at Andrew again. "I did."

Beat.

"He's not coming."

A small sigh. "Didn't figure."

He glances in Dean's direction, and then back to Sam.

"Sorry if this is ... you know. Making things awkward for you."

He looks surprised.

"This what? You haven't done anything."

Being my friend, he almost says, and doesn't -- it sounds too pathetic even to him right now.

He shakes his head, instead. "Never mind. I got it set up -- we can go pretty much whenever, I just need a twenty-four-hour advance notice."

Sam nods.

"Twenty-four hours your time, or time here?"

"My time. Which ... doesn't always translate to time here," he adds, frowning slightly. "We may have to wing it."

"I think I'm getting a better handle on how time runs between here and back on the other side of the door," he muses. "Why don't we say about a week Milliways time, and I'll aim to meet you back here then?"

Edited 2010-05-03 02:52 (UTC)

"A week sounds good. I'll make the arrangements."

Beat. He feels obscurely like he ought to say more, but doesn't know what.

"Thanks," Sam says, quietly. "I mean it."

"Anytime." No louder. "You know that."