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Where are you? I swear I hit every bar on this rock and you're not in them

[ Don't ask why he didn't just try Sam's ship.

Also don't ask if he's been drinking at every bar he hit. Of course not. Who do you think he is???? ]

[... You didn't just try for my ship, dude?

Sam is in some parts hesitant to talk to his brother without fear of hitting some kind of wall of continued arguing, but he's also itching to hurry the hell up and get over this hump. They're not going to agree, at least not as is, but they could at the very least ignore it and carry on.

So he sends Dean the location of the little generic bar, the one Dean's probably seen or been in with the blue neon sign that is at the very least very well-maintained. For being a den of drunkards and annoying prat aliens who don't realize you're hustling them at pool.]

I've been at the datary. Library. Whatever you want to call it.

I'm gonna be starting a shift soon, though, if you want to come in.

[ Ignore it and carry on is practically their motto, after all. If they stopped speaking every time they argued... Well, they wouldn't be brothers then, would they?

And it figures Sam was at the library. Once a nerd, forever a nerd. ]

Course I do. Wouldn't want to miss seeing that apron in person

Which one is it?

Pretty close to where we dock. Just about five minutes. It's the smaller one with the big blue sign that is thankfully fully functioning. Can't miss it.

[You probably hit it up, but the usual guy is a big grumbly man who isn't one for conversation. That's why they hired Sam, you know. Very outgoing when you put a task in front of him to be outgoing.

He's there when Dean shows up, already rolling up his sleeves. He looks like he just got into a fight during a hunt, lightly bruised up, with a scabbed cut on his jaw and a preference to work more with his left than his right hand. Apparently he has plenty of fighting to do around here. :|;;]

Edited 2016-02-12 04:54 (UTC)

[ Yeah, Dean remembers him. Who even hires a guy like that as a bartender? Must own the place, or be married to the owner's kid, or something. Sam's better for it, hand down. He just loves being a shoulder to cry on. ...Or, well, he's good at faking it, anyway.

Dean's gotten into a couple arguments along his booze-and-swindle tour, but amazingly enough, he's ducked any real fighting. You better believe he's noticing the signs of it on Sam, though. He doesn't ask about it, even if his eyes go over the cuts and the way he's using his left hand more than usual. ...Oh, he will. But the last thing he wants to do is start a fight when he just sat down.

So he doesn't ask, smiles wide instead and leans his elbows on the counter. ]

Hey, Sammy. Look at you, a real working stiff. I bet the tips are good.

[ He turns and looks around. It's not a bad place. Clean, decent-looking kind of people, considering most of them are aliens. If not all of them. He looks back over his shoulder at Sam. ]

What's on draft around here? Or should I stick with whatever they've been giving me when I asked for whiskey?

Tips aren't too bad, actually. Now I actually have more than two shirts.

[On one hand, at least Dean's in a pretty good mood (and he's poking fun in a friendly way, that's a good sign). Must mean he's not running into any trouble or having issues with the station in general. That's a positive. On the other, the night is young and Dean apparently has a fire in him about bar-hopping today. He quirks his eyebrow, leaning on his good hand against the counter top.]

Could make you The Punisher.

... Or at least, that's what they said it translates to.

[He'd like to see his brother's reaction to that potent monstrosity of hangover terror.]

[ Maybe the good mood's thanks to that bar-hopping, and Sam should be grateful about it. ...Or maybe it's residual guilt from fighting with Sam before he'd even fully laid out the welcome mat.

Or it could be that he doesn't plan on paying for anything Sam lays in front of him. Free drinks always put Dean in a good mood. ]

The Punisher. Sounds like a good time I won't remember. As long as you know, whatever you give me, you have to deal with the mess I make, little brother. So choose wisely.

[ And that said, and while Sam's getting him whatever, Dean broaches the subject of those injuries, before the curiosity eats him alive. ]

They pay you to break the fights up in here, too?

Wouldn't be the first time I've had to deal with you throwing up all over a motel room.

Only, your shipmates will be more pissed than the maid staff.

[Be he starts to make the drink, anyway... and distills it a little bit on the side, sure. He's quick and nimble with each bottle, only a bit rocky when it comes to having one decent hand that doesn't hurt too much when it rubs over the glass. Is that liquid glowing? That liquid is glowing. Congratulations on the glowing concoction Sam is making you.

Don't worry, it's Human Approved.

As for the comment on fights, Sam expected it. His bruises are much lighter now and his jawline cut is closing up just fine, but he's still an obvious sign of things going a-muck. He shrugs, looking pleasant enough.]

Actually, no — more like a friend of mine got herself into trouble hustling people, so I had to lend a hand. Nami's tough and all, but five or six of them against one just didn't seem fair.

[ That drink is glowing, alright. And Dean looks dubious even before it's served to him, and Sam is lucky he's the one making it, or there's no way that would go near Dean's lips. If he throws up glowing vomit, Sam, he's doing it on your shoes. ...Not that glowing puke wouldn't be kind of awesome, but it would be awesome in a terrifying kind of way, so a ruined pair of sneakers is exactly what Sam deserves.

Anyway, hopefully Sam knows what he's doing and it won't come to that. Between the wide open windows and ship-hopping these last two weeks, Dean's done enough throwing up to meet his quota for the year as it is, thanks.

At least talking about the fighting is a good distraction from the inevitable. He can't say he wouldn't've done the same in Sam's shoes. And Nami was hustling people? Dean likes her more already. ]

Nami... She's the redhead, right? Friend of yours from that Astringent place. She's cute.

You two seem pretty close.

[ You see this smile, Sam? You know what this smile means. Go get 'em, tiger. ]

[Yeah your barf will glow, but it'll be cool, okay???

Anyway, he pauses in his preparation of said drink, looking confused for a moment.

Then he snorts.]

... Well, we've shared a bed together, so I guess it's pretty serious.

[But after a moment, he waves a hand dismissively, looking pleasant. Fond.]

It's not like that, man. Seriously. She's one of my best friends. And she really saved my ass in Adstringendum; I don't know how much of me would be here if she didn't fish me out of that cloud of doom, so I kind of owe her big time.

[And for other things, too, but. Anyway.

He points at Dean.]

So that means no being weird and hitting on her, either.

Edited 2016-02-12 06:42 (UTC)

She's a pirate, Sam.

[ That's Dean's answer, and he looks completely serious about it. Because... Seriously. Take her or leave her, dude. But letting fiery redheaded pirate booty go untapped is a crime. Someone should be hitting that. ]

She have a boyfriend back home? Is that it?

[ Or a girlfriend? Did poor Sam get friend-zoned? There are a lot of options here, and that chick being available but off-limits to both of them ain't one of them. ]

... So?

[Sam rolls his eyes. Leave that to Dean, that he would focus on the completely irrelevant fact that she's a pirate. Yep, sure.]

If you try to get lucky with her, you're in for a surprise, because it won't happen; she'll wipe the floor with you if you don't watch out.

[He considers how to say what he feels, though, biting his lip. Articulate it proper.]

Seriously, though. She's... Family. She knows more about me than -- pretty much anyone, outside of you and Cas. And she was there for me when I needed it.

So... No. It's not that she has a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or whatever. It's just not like that. You know? She's more important to me than a one-night stand or ass-measuring competition. We're crew mates. That means a hell of a lot. Especially for me.

[He doesn't want to say "like Jo and Ellen, or Charlie"; the wound for the last is especially deep. But you missed things, man. Crucial things.

He pushes over the creepy glowing drink.]

Don't puke on my bar.

[ You know, saying that she'll kick his ass is not the way to get Dean to back off. Hell, that just sounds like a challenge.

But the rest of the stuff, unfortunately, is enough. Little sister complex. Yeah, he gets is. ~~But you know, Sam, if you wanted to hit Jo, Dean wouldn't've stopped you. Not like Dean didn't try, even if it was a dollar short and a couple years too late.~~ Dean rolls his eyes right back, scooping up the glass. ]

Yeah, yeah. I hear you.

[ It's dismissive, but he still takes what Sam said to heart. If she's family to him, if even mister runs-from-his-family calls her that... That means something. Looks like Nami's Dean's family too, and that's something he doesn't take for granted. He won't come on to her after this, even if it is a damn waste. She's a pirate, Sam.

Dean eyes the drink in his hand, and lifts his eyes to Sam again before shaking his head and raising the glass. ]

Here goes nothing.

[ He takes a sip. And immediately after, smacks his lips and makes a face like a dog with peanut-butter in its gums. ]

Eugh. Tastes like ass. That's punishing, alright.

[ He sets down the glass and leans over it, mouth open and tongue hanging out as he talks around it. ]

Huy, ith muy tugh glowig?

[ The only way it'll be worth the taste is if his mouth is glowing for it. There's no other reason people would drink this crap instead of straight bottom-shelf tequila. ]

[Sam grins, like he knows something Dean doesn't. Mostly because he's seen this drink in action before, and it's 1,000 times more gratifying when it's happening to your pain in the ass brother.

Assholish little brother alert, wassup.]

Nah, your tongue isn't glowing. Your eyeballs and teeth are, though.

[And they're not gonna stop glowing for an unfair amount of time, too.

On the other hand, his fingernails look like they're painted with a lovely fluorescent blue.]

[ Too bad so sad, little bro. A prank only works if the one being pranked doesn't think it's hilarious. Which Dean totally does. He grins wide, excited at the idea. ]

Yeah?

[ He lifts his glass, tries to see his reflection in it, but seeing his nails glowing is good enough. He laughs deep from his chest. ]

Awesome. Dude, have you tried this? Check me out.

[ He grins and leans back with his arms spread. ]

I feel like I belong at a rave. Or a roller derby.

[ Glowing praise aside (HA), he's not about to take another drink. That crap was foul. ]

Can I get a bottle of this stuff?

[YOU KNOW WHAT!!!!

He'd be more defeated and say 'drats' if not for the fact that he loves when his brother does that chest laugh. It means things are okay, even just for the moment, and that makes Sam feel okay. Shut up. Sam's grinning despite himself, too, toothy and dimpled.]

Considering I don't want to look like something found on hotel sheets under UV, no thanks.

[He cocks his head to the side.]

You hustle enough darts and pool to afford it?

Yeah.

[ Actually no, probably not. Especially with all the credits he's been throwing around on booze and food. But Sam doesn't need to know that. Even if it's probably obvious because, I mean, Dean's not exactly a frugal guy and never has been. Sam, on the other hand, never spends anything. Which means money to burn.

Dean keeps grinning his glowing teeth. ]

But come on, man, you really going to charge your own brother? We're family! And I'm new here, came in flat on my ass, not a credit card to somebody else's name. I need a little seed money to get me started.

[ He shrugs, lips pressing together as he struggles not to keep smiling. ]

Or a little seed glowing napalm horror liquid, I guess. Help me out.

[Sam can't help but give a smug smile at that.

You're so full of shit man, oh my god.]

Wow. Talk about theatrics.

You gonna start hanging around outside with a five o'clock shadow, singing 'How Dry I Am'?

[But he's at least nice enough to not leave Dean hanging completely.]

One more glass, then you're totally on your own.

... Water's always a free drink.

What good's having a bartender for a brother if I don't get the good stuff for free?

[ WATER HA. Sam, please. And yeah, Dean's totally full of crap, and he's already got enough under his belt to afford his own drinks (beer and whiskey and a whole lot of coffee, thanks) without Sam's charity. But that doesn't mean Dean won't try to milk Sam for all he's worth, anyway. ]

But fine, alright. One more glass of something that isn't that, thanks.

[ He says, pushing the glowing drink back in Sam's direction. Because fun as it is, he wasn't kidding when he said it tasted like ass. He sure as hell isn't finishing it.

While he waits for a glass of something better, he broaches carefully. ]

You like it? The bartender gig. Being a working stiff.

[Sam's retrieving something a little less horrible for drinking, when the question pops. He grabs a bottle and pauses to consider his answer.]

It's familiar. I mean... Bars are only second to motels for us.

I've worked bar-tending before, back home. It's good practice when I'm not in the libraries, keeps my hands occupied while I think. I don't know. Besides, we don't exactly have credit cards to burn through, or people to get us weird components to spells or rituals.

The more I save, the better odds I have of getting what I need in the future.

Sure. It's, uh... It's frugal.

[ Sam's avoiding the real question, but that's fine. The answer he gives is good enough, walking a thin line, and Dean's not going to push him either way. It's one thing to get in a fight with Sam and send him packing back home where everywhere he could go is still just a long drive away. In space? Yeah, he's not looking forward to the day Sam decides to hop a shuttle to another freaking galaxy. Dean doesn't exactly want to thank their alien hosts for anything, but this whole being trapped on a fleet together with a communication network and no roaming charges... it's not so bad. Cas is here, too. If it weren't for the flying thing and, you know, the nagging feeling like he needs to get back to Amara - to, you know, stop the Darkness... Dean could almost be comfortable.

He shrugs, leaning heavy on the counter, watching Sam as he gets that next drink. ]

You know, you're good at it, you like doing it, keeps you busy, brings in the, uh, credits... It's not a bad deal.

It's good for you, Sammy. And I... [ Dean's eyes flick down briefly, guiltily, towards his glowing nails before lifting back up. ] I shouldn't've teased you for it.

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