timed to mid-March

[prodigaljaybird]

The man is easily contained, though Jason thinks things might have gone differently had he not been so drunk, too slow with it to even raise a hand before Jason had him immobilized. He'd have overpowered him either way, Jason's sure of that, but it might have taken longer, been. Messier. Anxious as he's been lately, Jason almost thinks it's a shame. Sparring with Bucky holds little of the joy of a real fight, Jason unwilling to fight dirty with Bucky these days, and he sighs as he ties the last knot.

Regrets aside, he's out the door of the Winchester in no time, the would be thief a captive and tied, still and silent now, to a chair. Neil's hut isn't far, and Jason takes to the trees, cutting the time it'd take to walk there in half. The home is dark when he finds it, but Jason doesn't think this is something to leave 'til morning.

Raising his hand to the door, he knocks.

Comments

[little_moons]

Awareness creeps in really fucking slowly. Probably because it's the middle of the fucking night. I know it's the middle of the fucking night, because it's dark and I was deep asleep, for once.

Tom grunts, curling closer and muttering something low in my ear, but I manage to squirm my way out from under him, stumbling to my feet and grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed to sling around my hips.

My eyes are barely open by the time I make it through the hut to the front door, face pinched up in a sleepy scowl when I open the latch and poke my head out and find...

Just about the last person I'd have guessed to see on my doorstep at ass-o'clock in the morning.

"What the fuck?"

[prodigaljaybird]

Jason appreciates the irony himself, albeit for different reasons. It's rare that he doesn't slip through a window or an open door, it's rare that he stands patiently and knocks.

"I caught a thief," he says, taking in Neil's state of undress only long enough to wonder how quickly he can put on shoes. "In your liquor." This is different from the food, he knows. The liquor doesn't replenish. "I tied him up."

[little_moons]

Heaving out a sigh, my forehead dropping to rest briefly against the doorframe, I say, "There isn't a fuckin' lock on the door, Jason. What the hell."

A thief. In the liquor. It's probably kind of sad how little I give a shit.

"Who was it? Did you even ask?" I'm already running through a list of people who might think it was okay to go in there, after hours. People who know I trust them. But it could just as easily be someone else, tied up in my fuckin' bar for stealin' shit they get for free.

[prodigaljaybird]

Jason shrugs. "He lives by the big waterfall. Tall as me, green eyes." He frowns a little. He knows Neil doesn't care who eats the food, but this is worse, anybody could be in there after the alcohol. Jason wouldn't let a kid in there, not the young ones of which there are plenty on the island, and, "He left the door open."

[little_moons]

"Fuck. Fuck, okay. Just... Just gimme a minute," I say, disappearing back inside so I can put on some fucking clothes and tell Tom where I'm going. That Dean -- it's gotta be Dean, who the fuck else would it be? -- is probably half conscious and tied to the fuckin' bar by a kid who might actually be insane, and I've gotta deal with it. Even half asleep, the soldier in him rears up, wanting to charge in and save the fuckin' day, but thankfully, it doesn't take much to get him to go back to sleep.

When I come out, I'm in a pair of old sweats that might belong to Tom, or maybe even belonged to Mike once upon a time, and a ratty old t-shirt I think I found in the box my first summer here. I'm still pulling on my shoes, hopping on one foot as I shut the door behind me.

"Come on. Let's go."

[prodigaljaybird]

Jason nods, and it takes a moment to keep his feet on the ground, not lifting into the trees where it will be faster, but the Winchester isn't far away, and Neil, at least, is finally coming.

And pissed, too, by the look of his face when the moonlight hits it. "He didn't break anything," Jason offers. "Me either. He's already drunk, it was fast."

[little_moons]

What went fast, I want to ask, but I don't even have it in me. I'm fuckin' tired and it's late and this is probably the weirdest fuckin' thing that's happened to me in a while. Which is saying something.

"Look, man, I appreciate you lookin' out for the place, but there are people that I'm okay with bein' in there, and he's kind of one of them." Granted, I'm kind of glad to know that he was sneaking around in the middle of the fucking night to get booze, when I know he's been drunk nearly non-stop for weeks and I already told him that it's freaking me out, but even though I'm planning on hitting him upside the fuckin' head if he's still conscious, tying him up might've been overkill.

Actually, now that I think about it, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

[prodigaljaybird]

"Well he was on his way to breaking something," Jason mutters, which he's decided, apart from the alcohol, is the point. The guy almost took out his own shoulder just getting through the door - Neil's lucky he didn't lose a table or a chair, or hell, that the guy hadn't managed to pull down his entire stock of bottles just getting to the one.

But the man's Neil's friend, he gathers, if he's welcome no matter the hour. "He's not hurt."

[little_moons]

"Good. I... Thanks," I say with an awkward quirk of a smile, my arms folded across my chest, feeling weird for even thanking him for basically attacking my best friend or whatever, but if he was alone in there and on the verge of tearing the place apart, I guess he was probably in need of an intervention.

"So, since when do you even know where the fuck I live?" I ask, arching a brow. It's possible I told him, I guess, but I honestly don't remember it.

[prodigaljaybird]

"I know where everyone lives," says Jason, shoulders rising again. He doesn't sleep so well most nights, spends it wandering, watching, has been trained to observe for so long he'll probably never shake the habit.

"Your house is kind of memorable," he adds, thinking of that big fuckoff tree.

[little_moons]

"Yeah, I guess it is," I say with a snort of laughter, and I'd make some crack about me being memorable, but it's too late and I'm too fucking tired, and admittedly, too fuckin' worried about the drunken, miserable idiot I'm gonna find in the bar once we get there.

[prodigaljaybird]

Jason might ask about that, sometime. There are treehouses here, but only one home built right into one, and not a single other tree on the island like Neil's.

He pushes his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing when the Winchester finally comes into view. "Want me to go in with you?"

[little_moons]

"'m I gonna be able to turn him loose on my own? You didn't use handcuffs or anything, right?" I ask, arching a brow. With this guy, I honestly wouldn't be surprised.

[prodigaljaybird]

"It's just a zip tie," says Jason. He hates to waste them, but it had felt good, he admits, that his carrying them around with him was necessary after all. "Kitchen knife'll cut it. I only used one."

It'd been more than enough.

[little_moons]

"Then, I think I got it from here," I say, managing a crooked smile that I hope is at least halfway reassuring.

"Next time, think maybe you could ask questions first, manhandle later?"

[prodigaljaybird]

Jason lifts a brow. That's not really how he does things, if only because he investigates long before he asks, he just doesn't do it face to face. "Maybe," he concedes. "But I don't think you should let that one in whenever he wants."

He stops when they reach the walkway, one quick lift of his hand before he's gone again, swallowed utterly by the darkness.

[little_moons]

"Don't I know it," I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes and turning away to cover the last bit a distance to the bar.

Making my way up the steps, I pause just outside, dragging in a deep, steeling breath and then reaching out to open the latch on the door.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

Dean gave up getting his arms free long ago. They're tucked behind him, biceps tight against a chairback and wrists bound, and they're numb and his nose itches, and it all pretty much sucks a big one.

He turns his head at the sound of the front door opening for the first time since he was left here, and wonders idly if that means it's breakfast time. The thought serves to cheer him somewhat, even if he'd really rather just have something more to drink. Leaning forward as much as he can, Dean squints at the doorway, trying to cram the two figures swimming in his vision back into one.

[little_moons]

Heaving out a sigh, I let the door shut behind me, flicking on the lights, almost as an afterthought, on my way back toward the kitchen. I come out with a knife in hand, walk over to him and gently slip the blade in under the tie.

"You're a fuckin' idiot," I mutter, cutting through the plastic with one quick jerk, my thumb brushing briefly over faintly raw skin around his wrist before I straighten up and drop the knife down onto a table nearby.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

He's probably right, but it doesn't mean Dean's not in the mood to argue, sliding close to the wrong side of sober, stomach rolling unpleasantly and mouth cotton dry.

"Coulda told me you got a guard dog," he mutters. It takes three tries to get his arms moving, but he manages it, rubbing at his wrists after.

[little_moons]

"He's not mine," I admit with a shrug, "I dunno what the fuck he was doin', lurkin' around, but I'll tell you, it was a whole lotta fun, havin' him knock on my fuckin' door in the middle of the night. Hope that happens again, soon."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

Dean rolls his eyes, which is a bad idea, 'cause the world keeps going long after he's stopped. "You want fun? Try getting Vulcan nerve pinched from behind." He shakes out his hand, but it's only stiff now, no nerve damage, just pins and needles. "Time is it, anyway?"

[little_moons]

"Fuckin' ass crack of dawn?" I guess, lifting up both wrists for him to see, even though I'm kinda skeptical he can even focus enough to see 'em. "No watch."

Watching him shake out the leftover tension in his arm, I arch a brow and say, "That kid might come in handy."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

"Don't go siding with him just to piss me off," Dean replies, and it takes both half-numb hands to get him out of the chair and onto his feet, but he manages, on his way behind the bar where he'd meant to be an hour ago.

Ass crack of dawn. He hopes not. Won't be much time to sober up, even if he doesn't find the drink he's looking for. "Should go back home."

[little_moons]

"'m not," I murmur, watching him warily but biting my tongue while he goes rummaging through the liquor.

"So should you."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

"Halfway there already," Dean murmurs, and this is it, this is all he needed, two fingers of whiskey and he'll be good to go. He pours it carefully, doesn't spill and doesn't break the bottle on its way back down.

"Seriously, Neil, go home."

[little_moons]

"Fuck you, man. I realize there's not a lock on the door, and I don't technically own any of this shit, but you're the one rummagin' around in here in the middle of the fuckin' night and you're tellin' me to go home?" I say, incredulous and not doin' a damn thing to hide it.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

It's on the tip of his tongue, to tell Neil to go home to his family while what's left of it is still there to go home to, but he doesn't say it. He's not that far gone yet, and what Dean does do is shrug and pull out another glass.

"Fine," he says, pouring. "Look tired, is all."

[little_moons]

"'m always tired," I murmur, sliding onto a stool and reaching for the glass, "Goin' home to sleep isn't gonna make any fuckin' difference."

Especially since I'll probably just spend the rest of the night awake, starin' at the fuckin' ceiling, now.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

"Make some difference," Dean remarks, losing half his own glass to a gulp. It burns at his throat, which only means he's gone too long between drinks, and he pours a little more.

"Girls sleepin' in their bed again?"

[little_moons]

"They still try and crawl into ours, every couple nights," I admit, knocking back my drink with a sigh.

"'s been worse, since Abby."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

Abby, who's...Jesus, Dean hadn't even realized she was gone, so far up his own ass as to miss it. He feels bad for it, but even now, in the face of Neil's grief it's hard to feel it, one small ache pulverized in the teaming wake of Angua's disappearance.

"Yeah, I...I bet," he says, reaching to refill Neil's glass. "Never stops, does it?"

[little_moons]

For the last couple of years, Dean's always, always been the person I can count on most. No matter what. He usually doesn't even have to say a word, it doesn't matter what's happened, just being near him makes things seem better. But it's like... it's like he's not here. Not really. Not anymore, and I could feel it happening before she left, with all that drinking, but now that she's gone... It's like whatever it was in him that always made me feel like everything would be okay has just... slipped away.

Mike is dead, and Tom's still a mess and the one person I really want to lean on just can't handle it. Can't handle me. And I can't help it. I can't help this completely selfish wish that things could be normal. No matter how much I wish Angua was back, no matter how much I wish that he could be happy, because he deserves it more than anybody I know, what I wish more is just to have him back again, for me.

Mike's fucking dead, but Dean's sitting right here and it's like drinking with a ghost.

"No, it doesn't," I mutter, knocking back my next drink, wiping the back of my hand across my eyes and turning my face away.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

They've moved on to what passes for pleasantries these days, comments on who's gone and who isn't so daily, so normal, that Dean spends the next few breaths just drinking. He pours more into each of their glasses, eyes on the polished wood of the bar and then his hand as it wraps around the glass, then nothing at all as the whiskey burns its way down.

He swallows, but Neil doesn't, and it's only when he goes to ask if he's done drinking that Dean looks up. All at once, it feels like he's on the wrong side of the bar. He's hot all over, skin stretched too thin and dry despite the heat, and his voice, when it comes, isn't much better. "Neil?"

[little_moons]

Clearing my throat, I force myself to turn my face toward his, but I can't quite manage to look him in the eye, feeling stupid and so fucking selfish, my cheeks practically burning.

"Yeah?" I say, a weak smile flickering across my face, but I know it ends up looking more like a wince. There's about a million other things I wanna say, but none of it'll come, so I end up just sitting there, trying to just breathe and not fucking cry or run or anything else equally pathetic and embarrassing.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

Neil's face is wet and as red as Dean's feels, and in the few steps it takes to get to the other side of the bar Dean actually feels like himself again, moving towards a problem he can solve, a hurt he can soothe.

"Hey kid, c'mon," he says, arms up and tugging Neil gently into a hug. God only knows how long Neil's been crying before Dean even fucking noticed. "It's gonna be okay."

[little_moons]

"Jesus," I breathe, curling my arms around him, purely instinct, 'cause if I wasn't so fucked up, I'd be shovin' him away and tellin' him not to fuckin' baby me. He doesn't need to be the one to fix things. Not now.

But it's too comforting, too familiar, and I practically collapse against him, my face buried in the crook of his neck, holding him tighter like I'm afraid to let go.

Really, I'll take what I can get.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

Neil hasn't held on like this in a long while, hasn't folded up and let Dean take his weight like this maybe ever, and Dean holds on, one arm around his back and the other landing in Neil's hair, keeping him there against his throat for as long as he needs. He probably smells terrible - been drinking for hours and his last cleanup had been for the clinic, but he's not so worried about that right now.

"You and me, we're still here," he murmurs, feeling Neil's breath hitch against his skin. "Gonna be okay."

[little_moons]

"Bullshit," I say with a dry, sobbing cough of laughter, and maybe I'll be embarrassed later, but right now, I've got no fuckin' shame for the way I'm clinging to him.

"I dunno what the fuck I'm supposed to do with you. You're supposed to be the fuckin' adult around here, asshole."

As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I know how much of a fuckin' guilt trip it is. I'm married, for Christsakes. Got two kids at home. But when it comes to him, I've got it in my head he's better at handling shit than I am. That he's the one that holds it together, while everything falls apart. When really, I know that's pretty fuckin' far from the truth.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

"M'tryin', man," Dean exhales, but it isn't true. He's not trying, doesn't even want to, but times like this he wishes he did. That drive is still there in him, it has to be, the need to pick up and keep going, to burrow out of all the miserable shit piled on top of him, but Dean can't feel it. He can't seem to do anything but drift along, at least until something hits him hard enough to wake up for a few moments, and the sight of Neil's tears packs a damn fine punch.

Dean takes a shaky breath. "If I let go of you you're not gonna swoon or anything, right?"

[little_moons]

"Probably," I mutter, but I pry my arms away from him, sitting back on my stool, my hands still braced on his shoulders.

"Shit, man. I'm... I'm sorry, I just..." There's no excuse. None that he's not already aware of, anyway.

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

Dean can guess what Neil's going to say, and he doesn't think he can handle hearing it, not as keyed up as he is already by the sight of Neil's red eyes. "Just what?" he asks. "Just tired, maybe a little pissed you got dragged out of your bed for my dumb ass?" he asks, and makes it all the way to a smile this time, even if it's a tired one.

[little_moons]

"'m not pissed," I mutter, scrubbing a hand across my face and sliding off my stool, brushing past him on my way to put my glass in the bus bin behind the bar.

I'm a lot of things, but the anger went away a long time ago.

"You're right. I oughta go. I told Tom I wouldn't be gone long."

[weary-head.livejournal.com]

"Yeah," says Dean. "I gotta...get back." To what, he doesn't say, nor could he if asked. Sam has Cori, O-Ren, Roger and Jess can look after themselves, what is he going back to? An empty bed, and he can't bring himself to feign its appeal.

"Thanks for the drink, man."

[little_moons]

"Next time, try not to get busted," I murmur, and on my way past, I step in close again, resting a hand on his back, high between his shoulder blades and leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, just shy of the corner of his mouth. And maybe it's a strange sort of gesture, not something I do with him very often, but I'm too fucking tired to give a shit about boundaries or what's normal for us.

I don't want him to go home on his own. I want him to come with me. I want him to be where I can keep an eye on him, I want him to be where he can keep an eye on me, but we've got a full fuckin' house already, and he's got Sam and Cori and O-Ren and Roger there. There's no reason, other than pure selfishness, for me to need him so close when he's already got family all around him.