( He kept that real close to his vest for almost two months, didn't he. Even though they shared a tent.
Misty's words flash across his mind: 'STEP TWO: gay awakening.' They haven't talked, have they? Not since. Not after. They've only just returned to themselves and now they're thrust into this fucking "game." He's not young and skittish and uncomfortable and confused, so he doesn't flinch when he sees Hawk's name in his inbox. They're both adults.
And, yeah. He can admit he liked what they did. But, they both had that bloodlust. They were driven by their knife. Followed the blood. Nothing more primal than that, right?
He's been the demon before. )
News travels fast outside our "teams."
Yeah, I could use a drink.
JUST a drink.
( Probably. If it were anybody but Cas, if it were girl Sam or Faith -- it's also Peony. Peony who asked him to protect her. Protect the others from her. Ironic. )
Shit. I'm taking a look at Homelander's. Wouldn't hurt to compare notes when we're through, maybe. You sure - you want to be there for it?
[about an hour later though, dean will find the sign turned around and the lights low, window cracked to let a trickle of smoke pass through. hawk's got a cigarette between his fingers and a bottle of half-drunk whiskey, though it hasn't been sipped recently. his face is pulled tight with concern, wondering what kind of shape dean will be in when he gets here. but it'll smooth into something easy and casual when the door is closed behind him - trying to find the balance between reassurance, reminiscing of the last time they were alone like this, and respect for the dead.]
You wanna talk about it, or you wanna drink and forget about it?
Yeah, a big hell no to puppy play, thanks. Also horseplay. Any animal-play. Not for me.
Am I sure? Yeah, I'm sure.
( the flicker of low lighting beckons him inside. he passes through the front area, fighting a latent urge to grab up his knife again and get to work. he ignores flashes of his time as a butcher and his time with hawk as he joins the former soldier.
he's had some to drink with Parisa, but he's not sloshed. a layer of buzz carries him down to the other side of the cot as he answers.
He will take the bottle of whiskey, though, and speak before he takes a precious sip. )
Don't know what there is to talk about. Nobody knew we were friends. He woke up in my tent, but that was all. Been buried in blood and meat for a month, so we didn't have a chance to make each other friendship bracelets. If they're trying to get at me, they're doing a damn good job.
( He outstretches his other arm, flexing his hand. Wanting something in it. He wants to take something apart.
@HZF
Date: 2025-10-04 10:50 pm (UTC)Heard that guy was a friend of yours. Not asking if you're alright when none of us are, but.
You need anything? A drink?
no subject
Date: 2025-10-04 10:56 pm (UTC)Misty's words flash across his mind: 'STEP TWO: gay awakening.' They haven't talked, have they? Not since. Not after. They've only just returned to themselves and now they're thrust into this fucking "game." He's not young and skittish and uncomfortable and confused, so he doesn't flinch when he sees Hawk's name in his inbox. They're both adults.
And, yeah. He can admit he liked what they did. But, they both had that bloodlust. They were driven by their knife. Followed the blood. Nothing more primal than that, right?
He's been the demon before. )
News travels fast outside our "teams."
Yeah, I could use a drink.
JUST a drink.
( Probably. If it were anybody but Cas, if it were girl Sam or Faith -- it's also Peony. Peony who asked him to protect her. Protect the others from her. Ironic. )
no subject
Date: 2025-10-04 11:43 pm (UTC)Hands to myself - scout's honor.
Tell me where to find you. 15 minutes.
no subject
Date: 2025-10-05 12:09 am (UTC)Give me an hour. We're taking care of Cas' body.
Getting it down.
But. Our shop. The back, though. Turn the sign around. We can sit on the cot.
no subject
Date: 2025-10-05 06:07 am (UTC)Shit. I'm taking a look at Homelander's. Wouldn't hurt to compare notes when we're through, maybe. You sure - you want to be there for it?
[about an hour later though, dean will find the sign turned around and the lights low, window cracked to let a trickle of smoke pass through. hawk's got a cigarette between his fingers and a bottle of half-drunk whiskey, though it hasn't been sipped recently. his face is pulled tight with concern, wondering what kind of shape dean will be in when he gets here. but it'll smooth into something easy and casual when the door is closed behind him - trying to find the balance between reassurance, reminiscing of the last time they were alone like this, and respect for the dead.]
You wanna talk about it, or you wanna drink and forget about it?
no subject
Date: 2025-10-05 08:19 am (UTC)Am I sure? Yeah, I'm sure.
( the flicker of low lighting beckons him inside. he passes through the front area, fighting a latent urge to grab up his knife again and get to work. he ignores flashes of his time as a butcher and his time with hawk as he joins the former soldier.
he's had some to drink with Parisa, but he's not sloshed. a layer of buzz carries him down to the other side of the cot as he answers.
He will take the bottle of whiskey, though, and speak before he takes a precious sip. )
Don't know what there is to talk about. Nobody knew we were friends. He woke up in my tent, but that was all. Been buried in blood and meat for a month, so we didn't have a chance to make each other friendship bracelets. If they're trying to get at me, they're doing a damn good job.
( He outstretches his other arm, flexing his hand. Wanting something in it. He wants to take something apart.
He resists the urge. )
You lose anyone up there?