Nim paused outside the door of the bedroom where she'd left Dean sleeping, her head cocked toward the staircase. A faint grin rose on her face as she caught the sound of Bill and Bobby apparently discussing the French onion soup that was just finishing off in the oven. She had a feeling she was going to miss seeing Bobby eating it, but Bill could probably be relied on to accurately recreate the look on the other hunter's face for her later. Her fingers smoothed against the wooden door for a moment before she pushed it open, dipping her head around to take a look inside. "Dean?"
No sound or movement came from inside the room, not even the sound of snoring. The curtains were drawn to hide the light, a form dimly seen huddled on the bed. The journal from the future lay open on a table beside the bed, along with Dean's Beretta. Rumpled bedding covered the shape of a man lying beneath the covers.
Slipping inside with an indulgent smile on her lips, Nim closed the door quietly behind herself, moving toward the bed. "Still sleeping, huh?" she said, her voice soft despite the intention to wake him up if she could. Never poke a sleeping hunter; they'll break your bones before ever opening an eye. Walking around to seat herself on the bed beside him, she leaned over, gently stroking fingertips along his hairline. "Time to get up, baby," she tried again, lowering down to brush a gentle kiss to his temple. "Dean?"
He was slow to waken, lost in a deep, dreamless sleep, moving slowly up through the layers of sleep as some part of him heard a familiar voice callling his name. Lucky for her, she was waking him gently or she might find herself on the floor before she had time to think about how she got there. "Hmm?" he murmured, stirring slightly, eyes moving beneath closed lids.
She certainly wasn't stupid enough to try and wake him up in a hurry unless she wanted a few fresh bruises. Nim shifted closer, one hand falling to brace herself against the bed at his back as the other rose again to caress his cheek, trailing down over his shoulder affectionately. "That's it, almost there," she murmured, touching another soft kiss to his cheek. "There's fresh food downstairs, if you can, you know, wake up long enough to eat it."
Maybe it was the word "food" or maybe it was her gentle touch and the sound of her voice summoning him from unconsciousness, but his eyes finally fluttered open, feeling like he'd just awoken from a long, deep sleep, and yet, was not quite rested, groggy and disoriented. He grunted quietly as he shoved a hand through his hair and peered up at her from the bed, his voice rough with sleep. "What time is it?"
She straightened up as he stirred, out of range of the flail of his hand as he scrubbed at his hair. "Oh, about twenty past five," she told him fondly. "You've been asleep almost eight hours. I thought maybe you should eat before going back to sleep again."
"Eight hours," he grumbled as sat up in bed, glancing toward the window to see how much daylight was left, though he couldn't see much through the closed curtains. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?" He dropped his legs over the side of the bed, moving slowly, groggily. He had a million things to do before Brian got here, or so he thought, the first of which was reading that journal.
"Because you needed it?" Nim suggested, ignoring the complaining tone as she stood up, getting out of his way. Hooking her thumbs through her belt loops, she stepped back, unable to stop herself admiring the view, no matter how sleepy it was. "And I wouldn't have woken you up, either, except that you need to eat."
"I need to do a lot of things," he remarked, unzipping his duffle and pulling out a clean shirt. "Did you meet Bill yet?" he asked, as he turned to face her and pulled the shirt over his head. It was nothing special, just a plain pocket t-shirt appropriately in hunter green.
Leaning back against the edge of a dust-sheet-covered dresser, Nim tucked her arms about herself a little awkwardly. "Uh ....yeah, I did," she nodded, dropping her eyes to the toes of her boots. "Told him about Ellen and Jo, showed him the knife. He kinda took it all in and didn't really react." She shrugged a little, flicking her hair out of her eyes as she looked back to Dean. "He's, uh, bullying Bobby into eating real food right now."
He tugged his shirt down over his chest, furrowing his brows at her, not only at her remarks about Bill, but about Bobby and real food. He felt out of sync again, like he'd been sleeping too long, yet not long enough. He thought of her future self a moment and wondered if this Nim was on her way to becoming that one. Self-assured and yet still somehow vulnerable, independent but not really wanting to be alone. "Maybe Bobby told him before we got here, and you were just confirming what he already knew."
"Maybe." But she didn't sound convinced. Her expression was almost unreadable, but for the quietly saddened flicker deep in her eyes as she went on. "There's nothing there, Dean. I look at him, and I don't see anything familiar. I don't even know what to look for ....he's a stranger." And yes, it was a disappointment. She'd hoped that she would at least feel something, something familial, friendly. Not nothing at all.
Dean's brows furrowed deeper, unsure what to think about Bill himself, frowning at Nim's apparent disappointment. "I'm sorry," he sympathized, wondering what he'd missed while he was catching up on sleep. He didn't quite understand what was going on. Some part of her seemed to remember him, but not her father, who Dean would have thought would have made a bigger impression on her than he had. A thought occurred to him, but one he was not quite ready to express yet, if ever. He turned again to snag a clean pair of jeans and socks from the duffle. "Apollo still has a lot of explaining to do."
"Bill's a good man," she said quietly. "He'll be a good friend, if we don't freak him out too much." Drawing in a slow breath, she shook her head, dismissing the upset easily. It wasn't enough to hurt her, or so she wanted him to think. As Dean moved on with the conversation, she moved with him, rolling her eyes as that familiar lopsided smile made itself known again. "Well, Apollo can't find us until we have some way of summoning him," she pointed out. "I don't think calling him on his cell will help; we're gonna have to hope for the guitar to arrive with Brian."
Dean made no comment regarding Bill, not having met him yet. He knew his father and Bill had been acquainted back in his world, but he wasn't sure if things were different here or not. "You don't think there's a cheater summoning spell in the journal?" Dean asked, as he tugged the pair of jeans up over his shorts and zipped them closed. He hadn't had a chance to read much of the journal yet, but it was the next thing on his to-do list.
"I wouldn't know," she admitted, dropping her hands to her sides as she pushed out of her lean against the dresser. "I haven't exactly read the whole thing in depth. Just skimmed what would help off the top." Pausing in front of him, she slipped her arms about his waist, closing her eyes to lean in close, breathing in every nuance of his scent to soothe her rattled senses.
No sound or movement came from inside the room, not even the sound of snoring. The curtains were drawn to hide the light, a form dimly seen huddled on the bed. The journal from the future lay open on a table beside the bed, along with Dean's Beretta. Rumpled bedding covered the shape of a man lying beneath the covers.
Slipping inside with an indulgent smile on her lips, Nim closed the door quietly behind herself, moving toward the bed. "Still sleeping, huh?" she said, her voice soft despite the intention to wake him up if she could. Never poke a sleeping hunter; they'll break your bones before ever opening an eye. Walking around to seat herself on the bed beside him, she leaned over, gently stroking fingertips along his hairline. "Time to get up, baby," she tried again, lowering down to brush a gentle kiss to his temple. "Dean?"
He was slow to waken, lost in a deep, dreamless sleep, moving slowly up through the layers of sleep as some part of him heard a familiar voice callling his name. Lucky for her, she was waking him gently or she might find herself on the floor before she had time to think about how she got there. "Hmm?" he murmured, stirring slightly, eyes moving beneath closed lids.
She certainly wasn't stupid enough to try and wake him up in a hurry unless she wanted a few fresh bruises. Nim shifted closer, one hand falling to brace herself against the bed at his back as the other rose again to caress his cheek, trailing down over his shoulder affectionately. "That's it, almost there," she murmured, touching another soft kiss to his cheek. "There's fresh food downstairs, if you can, you know, wake up long enough to eat it."
Maybe it was the word "food" or maybe it was her gentle touch and the sound of her voice summoning him from unconsciousness, but his eyes finally fluttered open, feeling like he'd just awoken from a long, deep sleep, and yet, was not quite rested, groggy and disoriented. He grunted quietly as he shoved a hand through his hair and peered up at her from the bed, his voice rough with sleep. "What time is it?"
She straightened up as he stirred, out of range of the flail of his hand as he scrubbed at his hair. "Oh, about twenty past five," she told him fondly. "You've been asleep almost eight hours. I thought maybe you should eat before going back to sleep again."
"Eight hours," he grumbled as sat up in bed, glancing toward the window to see how much daylight was left, though he couldn't see much through the closed curtains. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?" He dropped his legs over the side of the bed, moving slowly, groggily. He had a million things to do before Brian got here, or so he thought, the first of which was reading that journal.
"Because you needed it?" Nim suggested, ignoring the complaining tone as she stood up, getting out of his way. Hooking her thumbs through her belt loops, she stepped back, unable to stop herself admiring the view, no matter how sleepy it was. "And I wouldn't have woken you up, either, except that you need to eat."
"I need to do a lot of things," he remarked, unzipping his duffle and pulling out a clean shirt. "Did you meet Bill yet?" he asked, as he turned to face her and pulled the shirt over his head. It was nothing special, just a plain pocket t-shirt appropriately in hunter green.
Leaning back against the edge of a dust-sheet-covered dresser, Nim tucked her arms about herself a little awkwardly. "Uh ....yeah, I did," she nodded, dropping her eyes to the toes of her boots. "Told him about Ellen and Jo, showed him the knife. He kinda took it all in and didn't really react." She shrugged a little, flicking her hair out of her eyes as she looked back to Dean. "He's, uh, bullying Bobby into eating real food right now."
He tugged his shirt down over his chest, furrowing his brows at her, not only at her remarks about Bill, but about Bobby and real food. He felt out of sync again, like he'd been sleeping too long, yet not long enough. He thought of her future self a moment and wondered if this Nim was on her way to becoming that one. Self-assured and yet still somehow vulnerable, independent but not really wanting to be alone. "Maybe Bobby told him before we got here, and you were just confirming what he already knew."
"Maybe." But she didn't sound convinced. Her expression was almost unreadable, but for the quietly saddened flicker deep in her eyes as she went on. "There's nothing there, Dean. I look at him, and I don't see anything familiar. I don't even know what to look for ....he's a stranger." And yes, it was a disappointment. She'd hoped that she would at least feel something, something familial, friendly. Not nothing at all.
Dean's brows furrowed deeper, unsure what to think about Bill himself, frowning at Nim's apparent disappointment. "I'm sorry," he sympathized, wondering what he'd missed while he was catching up on sleep. He didn't quite understand what was going on. Some part of her seemed to remember him, but not her father, who Dean would have thought would have made a bigger impression on her than he had. A thought occurred to him, but one he was not quite ready to express yet, if ever. He turned again to snag a clean pair of jeans and socks from the duffle. "Apollo still has a lot of explaining to do."
"Bill's a good man," she said quietly. "He'll be a good friend, if we don't freak him out too much." Drawing in a slow breath, she shook her head, dismissing the upset easily. It wasn't enough to hurt her, or so she wanted him to think. As Dean moved on with the conversation, she moved with him, rolling her eyes as that familiar lopsided smile made itself known again. "Well, Apollo can't find us until we have some way of summoning him," she pointed out. "I don't think calling him on his cell will help; we're gonna have to hope for the guitar to arrive with Brian."
Dean made no comment regarding Bill, not having met him yet. He knew his father and Bill had been acquainted back in his world, but he wasn't sure if things were different here or not. "You don't think there's a cheater summoning spell in the journal?" Dean asked, as he tugged the pair of jeans up over his shorts and zipped them closed. He hadn't had a chance to read much of the journal yet, but it was the next thing on his to-do list.
"I wouldn't know," she admitted, dropping her hands to her sides as she pushed out of her lean against the dresser. "I haven't exactly read the whole thing in depth. Just skimmed what would help off the top." Pausing in front of him, she slipped her arms about his waist, closing her eyes to lean in close, breathing in every nuance of his scent to soothe her rattled senses.