driftfleet | Happy Twenty...Somethingish...

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Happy Twenty...Somethingish...

Who: Anyone!
Broadcast: N/A
Action: A nice stretch of beach.
When: The night of this post.

[It's a party! Or it's an excuse to enjoy yourself and drink with friends, whatever. Beach, bonfire, booze, birthday cake, and maybe a beach volleyball game ~~sob~~. Anyone who knows Nami is invited, but if you just want to wander by and get dragged into the festivities, well hey! It's a public beach.

In short, it's a mingle log for having one hell of a night. The ponies are in charge of this party, so you just know it's gonna be festive.]

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[Don't sweat it, Sam, most of the snacks are kind of your thing. Nami's just as big a fan of rabbit food, apparently.]

I find I sleep better at night if I just don't ask the big questions, Sam. [She hands him a plate and blinks owlishly, then kinda starts gently pushing him shipwards. And by gently, it's not at all that she's using him for balance.]

C'mon. I'll make sure you don't get mugged by a stiff breeze on the way home.

[Like a total gent, he offers his arm for her to slip hers through.

... So we can each be a leg, obviously. :D;;]

You gonna make sure I don't get kidnapped by tipsy aliens this time?

Depends on how much they offer me. [Yes okay arm holding is good we can keep each other upright.] I mean... you know I could make a huge amount of cash filming the whole thing, right?

[He looks just a bit mortified. Because apparently the mental image of your friend filming a sex tape for you is, yanno, just on that level. Who knew.]

Gross.

[And apparently this is a good time for understatements.]

I'd rather you tranquilize me and drag me home before I, um, y'know, make more bad life choices.

[ONWARD, TO A BED. ONE THAT WON'T INVOLVE SEXY SPACE ALIENS.

By the time they actually get back, Sam's face-planting the bed and abandoning soggy layers until he's down to the scandalous 'one layer' that is so very rare for Winchesters.]

'm always happy to knock you out and drag you home, don't worry. [...wow that sounds really bad--] In a strictly friendly kind of sense, I don't--

[Giggling now because she's not picturing the caveman route at all. She'll just leave that there, help him home, help him peel off those outer layers and hang them out so they're not a musty smell mess of damp in the morning. She's sleepy herself, stifling a drunken yawn, but playing big sister, really.]

How y'doin? You want some water to drown that incoming hangover?

Naaaaah... I'm gonna jus'...

[He buries his face in the pillow, not quite sleeping, but feeling the pull of it. You could probably roll him up in the blanket and airlock him and he'd be too blissful to bother moving.]

Come on in, Nami, the water's warm.

[And by water I mean wonderful fluffy blanket.]

And here I just got out of the water. [Dryly. Sam, don't tempt her, she's incredibly tired.

She does kinda roll him up in the blanket, but no airlocking required.] You look like a big shaggy dog like this. All wet hair that's gonna dry funny come morning. I should take pictures.

Feel free, that's all m'brother does when I drink too much.

Blackmail fuel is a normal thing.

[... When they have a chance to enjoy living, anyway.

He supposes it's kind of moot if he doesn't find a way back to save them both.]

I'm not sure I wanna be compared to Dean. [But she says it with a lot of amusement. She had a bit in common with original recipe!Dean, but...not so much the one currently here. But you know what, taking you at your word while yawning. She fishes out her comm and flops down suddenly on the floor next to Sam's bed, shaking it. She might've accidentally taken it into the water with her, whoops.]

Say 'cheese'. Or 'put it away and don't be mean'. Either or.

[A sober Sam would feel downright bashful and shy away from the idea of someone taking a picture of him lingering on a bed — and... yeah, drunk Sam is also pretty embarrassed at the thought, too, but he is far more likely to let it be (see: alien orgies, Sam, come the fuck on). So he gives a blushing grin at the camera anyway.]

Swiss or cheddar?

[... What a loser. How embarrassing.

He also proceeds to flop over and sigh loudly, like an obnoxious little brother who has been stuck in the back of the car for way too long on a road trip. But Sam has always been annoyingly complicated about his moods when it comes to laying down and staring at his ceiling. Maybe guiltily. Dean's been in bad moods, and back home, Dean's stuck on a submarine and Sam's probably dying, and Cas is possessed, and...]

Not always a bad thing, to be compared t'Dean.

He's really inventive... Made his own ghost detector, uh, thingy once. And he actually is a really good cook, when he's in the mood to be a hen. Yeah. He's pretty cool, I guess. That's how you know I'm drunk — saying he's cool. He's not, but he is, or whatever.

[The drunken ramblings of a Winchester, Nami. Enjoy.]

[Baw, Sam. You're drunk, and drunk people mood swing, and she thinks fuzzily that she should probably try keeping things light before you fall down a dark tunnel where missing Dean is concerned. She's real tired, though...

Taking a picture or three. To be honest, she just kinda clicks it haphazardly, so if she's lucky she maybe got a good shot of Sam and some of, like, his pillow with his tangled hair in the corner or something. Then Nami shifts around to face him instead, chin resting on her folded arms by his side and smiling drowsily.]

So what you're saying is, being smart runs in the family. Just in different ways. I guess I can live with that.

[SNORT.]

Dad n' Dean were always better hunters than me. Jerks. I had to get into books because I couldn't keep up when I was younger, not for a while. Then I turned into a tree.

[He chuckles at the thought, but his eyelids are feeling particularly heavy. One of those pictures is totally just him like this. Lame-o.]

Don't tell Dean I said he's better, though. He'll get a big head.

I won't tell him. But you have to tell me how you turned into a tree. [Partway between amusement and dread on that one.] Tell me you don't mean literally.

[He chuckles, rolling his eyes to the heavens, as if praying to never become a goddamn tree.]

Not literally — not yet...

... Been a car, though...

[|DDDDD]

[A car. The fast awesome thing on wheels that belonged to Shawn, right? That was fun. But most definitely not human. Definitely not human. Made, manmade, of steel and--

No, she's just too drunk for this.]

Okay, that's it.

[She hauls herself up and flumps down on the bed itself, above the covers, and just gives Sam the blandest of looks.]

I'll go home when you finish telling me how it makes any sense what-so-ever that you became a car.

[Smiling against the pillow, he says:]

Alright, alright. I'll tell you about that whole stupid mess.

[Basically, he begins to tell you the whole tale that is Changing Channels.

Hope you're capable of staying awake through some of it. If he even is.]

[Hahaha NOPE. Though she's curious, she's also drunk too much herself, and combined with her antibiotics it's not long before she shifts comfortably on the bed and tucks the far corner of Sam's blanket over her shoulders. Still listening, I swear. But her eyes drift shut and she dozes off with a goofy smile on her face.

This sleeping together thing seems to be becoming a habit, Sam. Just in the entirely comfy and literal fashion. (Shippers in the Atroma audience are probably frustrated af but too bad.) And sleep is restful enough at first, shot through with colourful and bizarre bits of dreams.]

[...that eventually turn darker when she gets cold in the middle of the night and burrows a little closer to the other source of warmth in the bed. Hunger that feels carved into shaking hands and aching muscles, and hurt and betrayal a mile deep. She dreams of Sam in a luxurious room, and a woman with dark hair and eyes, and in some distance part of herself Nami wants to backpedal right out of the room when he throws the woman down on the bed, because it's obvious where this is going, right?

Then he pulls the knife, and suddenly it's horrifyingly apparent what all that painful hunger is for.

---

She wakes up soon after with a strangled sound and rolls straight off the bed.]

[Sam's reaction to his own memories isn't so abrupt and vocal — it's more of a festering sad dream, the kind that leaves you restless when you wake up. He'd known a little about Nami; he knew her childhood was rough, knew that Arlong played a heavy hand in that and had taken her mother ruthlessly from her, but it's one thing to hear about it and another to feel it.

He wakes up not from the terrible sensation of loss, of hunger and weariness, but from Nami's dramatic flailing. Jackknifing up to sit, he looks over with a wild head of hair and trips over himself in the tangle of sheets in his attempt to peer down at her from the bed.]

Whoa!! Are you alright?

[Freaky memory-dream later, concern right now.]

No. [She almost flinches at the sound of Sam's voice, which is stupid, but she's still waking up, sorting out threads of that dream from reality. Takes her a moment to realise she's on the floor, but...ugh. She can still taste blood and it's vile. Her stomach is roiling. What a horrible dream.]

Bad dreams. That's all.

[Like you'd ever drink blood, seriously.

Right?]

..... Um. Bad dreams about... uh, your childhood?

[He's just. Wondering. Because memories have been passed around, but...

He's kind of hoping you didn't get anything from him. :|]

[Nami gives him a sharp look from the ground, because that was an awfully specific question. But it doesn't take more than a moment for her to remember the planet they're visiting when he asks, and her look morphs into one of confusion.]

...no. No, I uh.

...dreamt about you, actually.

[That couldn't possibly have been real. She sits up, wincing as low level nausea settles in, but this time at least it just feels like a hangover. Haven't had one of those in a long time.] I think it was just a dream, though. Weird one.

... Oh.

[Maybe a little concern colors his face, alright?

Because... Well, maybe if he focuses on her side, this'll be infinitely easier.]

I um. I dreamed about — after Arlong. You mapping things.

[You can fill in the blanks on that, right?]

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