fandomtownies | Luke's, Saturday

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Luke's, Saturday

So, waking up to no noise had been nice. Then it had been freaky. Then it became annoying as all hell when he accidentally stepped on the damn panda.

Dean was just going to divide his time at the diner today between texting Bobby about deaf curses for an entire freakin' town and getting his weapons ready.

Look, papa Winchester didn't raise no fool. Just an emotionally stunted soldier. A+ parenting skills.

[[OCD Is cleaning guns!]]

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Éponine had been up when the spate of deafness hit the island. Wandering around in the streets of the warehouse district aimlessly and singing to herself, as a matter of fact, so she'd noticed her sudden inability to hear her own singing.

That had been a fun moment of panic when the realization set in. So she'd gone home and holed up for a couple of hours with her cat, hoping it would go away soon, but when it hadn't -- well, time to try and figure out if it was just her. Never mind that asking around would be difficult; she could figure something out, couldn't she? And maybe get some breakfast while she was at it?

It was a great plan up until a flying creature with sharp talons divebombed her outside Luke's, anyway. Good thing she was still so scrawny, and managed to duck inside before she got worse than a torn shirt and some fairly minor scratches, but she still looked annoyed by the whole situation.

"Good god!" Just because she couldn't hear herself didn't necessarily mean no one else could hear her, right? Right?

And hey, check it out. She was being yanked inside by a shotgun wielding Dean as he shot the ugly fucker before it could try getting through the door. Because he was proactive like that.

And had waaaaay too many guns.

A certain group of dead revolutionaries would envy Dean's gun collection. Except they were dead.

"What in hell was that?" Éponine demanded for all the use it would be. It wasn't as if she'd heard the gun go off either (which was probably for the best).

She at least remembered to nod at him in thanks.

Well, maybe they'd get better. Because that happened for the Winchester family.

Except Adam.

Dean shot her a look once he'd checked up and down the street that no more where on their way to avenge their fallen buddy. He nodded his head toward the table area of the diner. Away from the door and windows, thanks.

Only in fix-it fic, Dean. Only in fix-it fic.

Éponine nodded again and scurried toward one of the tables, in no mood to tempt any more of those things, much less have to deal with flying glass shards.

Once she took a seat and started dabbing at her bleeding scratches (and making a displeased face at her ruined shirt) she glanced up at him.. "You can't hear me either, can you?"

She had to try.

Dean stared hard at her mouth, trying to figure out just what she was trying to say. This looked way easier on TV, you know. "I can't hear you, lady."

From the look on her face, hearing wasn't necessary to figure out that Éponine was swearing a blue streak. (Not very polite, no, but whatever. No one heard it.)

She gestured toward the street, tapped her ear, then pulled out her phone and indicated the time on the screen as if to ask if Dean had any guesses about how long they were going to have to put up with this inconvenience.

Both inconveniences.

Dean snorted silently, shaking his head. This place was too messed up to try figuring out this crap.

Though he was hoping Bobby would get back to him in time on what they were dealing with.

Well then. Since she was here and all . . .

"Can I at least get something to eat?"

She'd be damned if Fandom and whatever was wrong with it now were going to keep her from having breakfast.

"Eat?" Dean was pretty sure he knew that word. Could have been 'feet', though.

Ew. No.

Éponine nodded, pointed at the coffee machine, then adopted her best pleading expression.

Could have been!

Dean shot her an amused look before grabbing a coffee cup to set down on the counter for her before grabbing a slice of pie and the coffee pot. Congrats, you're attractive and Dean was nice.

Yes, well, it wasn't.

Never one to turn down pie, not to mention still not over this whole thing where she got treated like a regular customer instead of getting the if-I-give-you-something-will-you-please-go-away treatment, Éponine beamed at him.

If she got pie out of this whole annoying situation, it wasn't a complete inconvenience.

That and he had a soft spot for strays. You hit the jackpot, Éponine.

He grabbed an order pad and pen, shoving it over at her in case she had anything to add to that.

How about that? A random stroke of luck for her.

She gave Dean a playfully scolding look -- really, making her write down her own order? -- but scrawled, slowly and awkwardly, steak and eggs on the pad.

He was nice like that.

Dean took the order, looking it over before giving a silent little laugh. Hey, he couldn't fault her for good taste at least.

She never passed up the chance to have a nice steak any more, okay? Éponine took a sip of coffee and asked (silently), "What's so funny about that?"

She looked amused, at least.

Dean just shrugged at her inquiring look, shaking his head as he put the order in and hoped the cooks were, you know, paying attention enough to get to work on that.

Sam's morning had been spent trying to keep Grace calm, and with that taken care of as much as possible while she still couldn't hear, his next instinct was to check on Dean, especially after noticing the freaky looking things outside. He managed to make it to Luke's with little trouble, which was probably good because unlike some people, Sam only had one gun. He went inside and shut the door firmly behind him, nodding to Dean in greeting.

Dean nodded right on back, automatically tossing him one of the shotguns. Sammy could grab his ammo from the little stockpile he had going there. Awww, it was like all their times together since college.

Sam caught the gun and gave it a quick check before loading it. Of course it was super clean with Dean taking care of it. "You okay?" he mouthed to Dean. He didn't think he'd get the truth, but he was still going to ask.

Even if he couldn't tell what was being mouthed, he knew his little brother well enough to understand the intent behind it. Dean nodded at that, huffing in annoyance.

"And I complained about missing Shark Week."

'Shark Week' was clear enough that Sam rolled his eyes and pointed outside. There were definitely bigger fish to fry. He also took the opportunity to look Dean over for any scratches or marks or bites or other things he might want to hide.

Dean sighed, letting him get that over with. Because he'd already done it covertly to his brother upon arrival.

Just a few scratches over his eye. Would he lie to you about injuries, Sam?

Just as much as Sam would lie back, of course.

Sam motioned over his eye where the cuts were on Dean, and then pointed outside. Those things had looked a little sharp, now that he thought about it.

Having more than enough of playing Charades, Dean grabbed one of the never used order pads to write out, Freaking harpies, Sam.

Bobby was hitting his head on a book at that classification. Because it was wrong, Dean.

Sam grabbed another pad, sorry Priestly, and wrote Harpies who make people deaf? I couldn't find any lore.

Of course he'd researched already, shhh.

Like Dean knew the details, Sam. God.

Bobby's working on it.

Did you tell him everything?

Not that Sam thought Dean might leave out details that would worry Bobby or anything.

What do you mean by everything? Deafness, harpy fuckers. There something more?

No, thank goodness, Sam wrote. I hate not being able to talk.

I mean, sure, he could talk, but there was no point if no one had to listen to him.

There's a shocker.

Brotherly love transcended the ability to hear.

Sam leaned over and smacked Dean with the pad before writing on it again. Promise you'll be careful?

Always, Dean wrote back with a wink.

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Luke's, Saturday

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